Gratuitous Horse Footage

Today I screamed at a temp agency rep via speakerphone and it felt great. This involved being on ice for most of this month waiting for an assignment to start at a local desktop publishing company. Three interviews, two intensive tests, a few measly shifts at less than part-time hours, then the agency tells me it messed up the payment paperwork and the company didn't want to pay me the rate I signed up for.

So I get on the speakerphone and let my freak flag fly. I believe everyone who has ever been wronged by a massive company should be allowed one hour on a speakerphone to verbally dismantle their superiors. Complete with interruptions, expletives and anything you think might stick to the phone lines.

There are so many of them, and only one of me. One day I will even the odds.

Buzz Yap

With nearly a third of a bag of coffee ground, perked and introduced orally into my bloodstream, I write to you Fishwrap mongrels.

Summertime is winding down, so the television says. Kids are flooding the malls and the huge grocery aisles prepping themselves for another nine months of twisted inculcation into the work force of the next twenty years. The Trapper Keepers have been replaced by Blackberry Machines, portable computers and ultralight cell phones that one can use for everything including actual phone conversation. So I'm told by my tidy Cingular rep at the University Village Shopping Center.

AC/DC's Back in Black now is the theme music for the new Motorola RAZR phone. At times I wish I worked in advertising so I could increase the learning curve between consumer and product, and try to convince my superiors that giving away free cable for people willing to subcutaneously implant ad chips under their fingernails is a fine idea.

Why bother even looking at images anymore? I want my AC/DC Motorola RAZR pill in convenient blister paks of 20.

We need to push the envelope, people. I want to see what happens when the ultimate cynicality of the marketplace is embraced by all. I want to be the Man in the High Castle of Commerce.
Not only be the man Behind the Curtain, but the man who will wrap you up in it because the curtain fibers are made from a new chewing gum flavor that reeks of mating pheromones and the blood of the poor.

Comcast has a great new commercial about their internet hookup where the backround lyrics say "NOOW, I want it now. Want it now - no time to wait or hesitate. Noww, I want it now!"

I want to see a reality show where contestants are literally shovelling through an enormous pile of consumer goods while being chased by grizzly bears who've been fed a steady diet of stanazalone for over a year. Whatever they can hold on to before being mauled is theirs and our compliments on a game well-played. Kudos for those who attempt to turn the bear on to the iPOD or mate with it while slathered in anti-aging cream.

Better yet, let's have a "trading places"-themed show where hidden cameras are placed in an entire neighborhood while hallucinogenics are tastefully introduced into the water supply.

Let's destroy all the restraints of the Good Society and see what lies on the other side. I want all of humanity to submit to the inherent desire to manipulate and control the environment in which we live for the sake of pure profit and appearance. I want one thousand glittering kings, corpulent and stupid, squinting their beady eyes up to a dying sun.

I want it now, I want it now. Want it now, no time to wait or hesitate. Nowww.....

Things That Should Happen

Once again, the Land of Talk claims me. I am now watching Ellen every day. I look at a clock now and say "Ellen" when I look at the 11 hand. Today I have these observations:

1. I now believe that every toddler should be given a miniature, fake George Foreman Grill at birth. Nothing is cuter than a small infant cradling their own portable barbeque grill. I can see their parents scampering around the townhouse now - "Where's your grill, Kelsey? Get your grill!" I predict the George Foreman Grill will replace the Teddy Bear in the pantheon of toddler affections in this new millenium.

2. Inside every pop diva, there is a track star waiting to break out. Witness Ashanti and her prowess at the long jump. Actually, inside every pop diva there's a monster booty waiting to break out. Witness Ashanti and her prowess at shaking everything below her waist while still singing at peak volume.

3. Watching Leah Remini from the King of Queens and Ellen singing karaoke to Pat Benatar is not only cute, but oddly erotic. I believe that karaoke is a hidden source of sexual power. The geekiest hidden source.

More tomorrow! And everyone reading this blog goes home with a copy of Ashanti's new CD, Booty Monster Gonna Eat Your Grill Baby!

Questions That Have No Answers

As I continue to look for work, I find myself ruminating about things that mean nothing. But they arise in the mind of those of us underemployed and looking for meaning. Such as:

1. Why do people on talk shows scream so enthusiastically for anything put in front of them? Pee wee footballers dressed up like the Philadelphia Eagles, summer interns who can't play guitar, how Cate Blanchett pronounces her last name. It's all incredible to them. Of course, I cannot claim any incredulity, for the only reason I konw this is that I continue to watch these shows. Is there a difference between forced enthusiasm for talk show fodder and someone unemployed who tunes in anyway?

2. Why do they have horrible commercials like ads for meds dealing with post-menopausal osteoporosis on at 11 am? That just sounds nasty. "Hi there! Your child-bearing years are behind you now, and we're worried your skeleton will collapse. Here, take these!"

3. Is it good to watch talk shows at all? They kind of change you in bad ways - for instance, I now have an opinion on the haircut of Wilma McNabb, mother of famous Philadelphia Eagle's quarterback, Donovan McNabb. (I don't like it).

So, campers, call in with your tales of unemployment and television. You'll be on right after the marching band and the woman who sells Moose-related gifts in Montana.