THE CHRISTMAS COW

The holiday shopping season is in full swing and the major credit card companies have jumped into the fray. Have you seen their latest gift idea? Visa’s offering one now and American Express has been promoting theirs pretty hard. It’s a pre-loaded credit gift card. Their value proposition is that the credit card works just like a gift card, but you can use it anywhere! Wow – what a brilliant fucking idea. A gift card that works at ANY store. That’s amazing.

Wait a second. Don’t they already have something like that? Oh yeah. I think it’s called CASH.

But cash as a holiday gift gets a bad rap because it can be perceived as thoughtless and uninspired. The appeal of the gift card is that it lets people take the easy way out of having to choose a gift for someone, without entirely removing thoughtfulness from the exercise. By giving someone a Borders gift card, you’re essentially saying, “I think you like to read, but I don’t have the time or the balls to pick something out for you.”

Of course, it’s always spun as a positive:

“This way I figured you could pick out whatever you want.”

See? How THOUGHTFUL.

But the proof is in the pudding. Gift cards have been wildly successful because people LIKE gift cards. They're easy. Plus, we LIKE being able to pick out the things we want instead of having someone else presume to know what we want. And do you know who REALLY loves gift cards? Retailers. They save a fortune every year in unused cards. Shit – I’ve still got gift cards in my wallet from LAST Christmas. That’s money that went directly into the bank accounts of big businesses in exchange for future purchases that were never made. And by the time I actually use them, prices will have risen and I won’t be able to get as much product as I would have a year ago when the cards were originally purchased.

If you've been post-holiday shopping for years, you may have noticed a trend. The number of post-holiday sale events have significantly decreased. There was a time when malls were packed post-holidays with people shopping for deals. Retailers customarily dropped prices after the holidays to keep traffic coming at a time when consumers felt financially tapped out. Not anymore. That's because we've entered the age of gift cards. If retailers drop prices, they'll be giving away more product when people use their gift cards. That's why, instead of using them right after the holidays, it's now better to wait a month or two.

I don't mean to badmouth gift cards here - heaven knows I've given out and appreciated receiving my share of them over the last decade. And I’m certainly not suggesting gift cards are a racket – they’re just good for business. And if they're good for business, they're good for the economy, which is good for people looking for work, which is good for boosting employment figures, which is good for putting money in peoples' pockets, which is, in turn, good for business. Ah, the wonders of capitalism.

I guess that explains why the credit card companies are finally getting into gift card the act. They’re banking on the fact that if they can talk people into giving out plastic cards as gifts instead of cash, people will lose or forget to use their cards and they’ll make out like bandidos.

So my advice to you this holiday shopping season is to resist the urge to buy preloaded credit cards as a holiday gifts. Especially considering I am more than happy to accept cash.

Thanks in advance!

MAKING CONVERSATION

A guy I work with told me the other day that if he didn’t complain he’d have nothing to say. And that got me thinking – do I complain a lot? I like to think I don’t, but a further analysis of my conversations has revealed that I bitch incessantly. And here’s some news – you’re a whiner, too.

Think about it. There are only so many things worth talking about. The old stand-by was, is, and forever will be “the weather.” That's because the weather is something we all have in common, and it’s also one of the two things in life over which we have absolutely no control, so you can bitch about it freely without blaming anyone.

But once we’re done talking about the weather, what else is there to say? As a courtesy, we've adopted the custom of asking one another how we're doing. Regardless of how I feel, I usually say I’m good – which isn’t entirely a lie, but not entirely the truth, either. It’s just that I know people don’t want me to tell them how I REALLY am, because that would involve a litany of pointless complaints.

“Fine, thanks. Well, actually, I’m not doing so great. My property taxes doubled, I’ve got an escrow shortage, my condo assessments are on the rise, business has been slow, my car is acting up on me, I’ve got a bad cough, the White Sox won the World Series, and I just got the worst haircut of my life. How have YOU been?”

The fact is, no one wants to hear that shit because we’ve ALL got problems. And, of course, we all think our problems are the worst. Ah, the ultimate relativity of distress. By the same token, no one wants to hear how GREAT someone else is doing, either. If there’s anything worse than a chronic complainer, it’s a person who couldn’t be doing any better.

“I’m fantabuliffic! Things could not be going better. My property taxes went down, an uncle I didn’t even know existed left me $43,000 in his will, a publisher contacted me out of the blue for a book deal, that mysterious lump I found turned out to be a golden testicle – I’m having it removed next week – I just got a massive raise and promotion, won 6 tickets to the Super Bowl, my doctor says I’ve got the cholesterol level of a Japanese fisherman, and my dick seems to have gotten bigger. Can you believe that shit? So, how are YOU?”

People like that suck. The truth is, life is hard work and is full of disappointment. We worry about our health, our finances, our jobs, our loved ones…and so much more…day after painful day. We’re under the stress of so many commitments and obligations, it’s a miracle any of us ever find the time to sit back and reflect upon how amazingly wonderful it is to JUST BE ALIVE. But we’re all lottery winners in that regard. We’re here – fortunate enough to have shit to bitch about day after day.

So, yeah – my taxes doubled. That sucked. But I’m still breathing. And yeah, business isn’t what it could be. But I’m still breathing. And yeah, this is the worst haircut I’ve ever had. But I’m still breathing.

Basically, life is good. So if you hear me complaining, don’t let it get to you. I’m just making conversation.

A LINK TO YOUR PAST

Here’s an oldie but a goodie!

Enjoy…

THE FINAL CUT

Have you ever had a really bad haircut? Me neither.

Okay, I KNOW you’re lying – and so am I. I mean, just look at me. This is fucking ridiculous. I can’t believe I paid someone money to do this to my head. Stevie Wonder could’ve given me a better cut with a pair of garden shears. Drunk. Speaking of Wonder, I wonder if he ever drinks himself half blind. [gratuitous rim shot]

So I waited and waited and waited to get a haircut. And day after day, Geri would politely remind me by asking, “So when are you going to get a haircut? You could always go this afternoon. How about tomorrow then? Will Friday work?” And I would shrug it off – “I know. I know. It’s getting shaggy. I really need to go.”

On Saturday, I finally went. But for some reason there was a run on the barber shop that day. People must want to look their best for the apocalypse (I hear it is nearing). As I stepped up to the front door I noticed there were 4 people seated in the waiting area…all patiently reading day-old newspapers. My well-kept secret was out – the Russian immigrant I’d discovered down the street from my apartment took a lot of pride in his work, and it showed. For $20 (after tip!), he’d give you a clean, crisp cut every time...without taking, or talking, your ear off.

On any another day I might have pulled up a stool and waited for his reliable services. But I had places to go and people see that day. So after waiting and waiting for weeks to get a haircut, I chose not to wait just one more hour. I got in my car and drove uptown to one of those fast-food haircut joints where they fleece folks like sheep for $10 a pop.

I eagerly took a seat in the chair of a slow-moving, older lady who I was certain moonlighted as a tarot card reader. She had a thick accent I couldn’t place and a pleasant, if unhurried, way about her. I felt comfortable in her care, assuming she’d been cutting hair for boys of her own for decades.

Oh, the horror that followed.

I watched on in helpless agony as she began chopping away at my dark brown dome, her clipping fingers weaving up and down randomly like drunk butterflies, slivers of hair shooting like sparks from my scalp. I wanted to stop the madness, but she was the professional, I thought. I decided to close my eyes, relax, and give her experienced eye the benefit of the doubt.

10 minutes later I opened my eyes to a whole new me: one who looked like a lobotomy addict. I smiled graciously and thanked her for the cut, eager to get home and patch things up with some hair gel.

But this was wishful thinking, it turned out, as she’d left me with disturbingly little to work with. There wasn’t any hair left to direct with the gel – and what WAS left was not in good shape. I envisioned a stoned high school kid “mowing” the lawn with a broken weedwacker, leaving patches of dirt in between tufts of thick, uncut bluegrass. Yeah - it's THAT bad. I then remembered Geri's five year old son enthusiastically offering to give me a haircut just a week ago. In hindsight, I should have taken him up on it. Would've saved a little money, anyway. (But not much - ever since discovering the value of money, he's been driving some pretty hard bargains).

Anyhow...here I sit at work, just hours before a client meeting, wondering if the partners will mind me wearing a golf visor during the presentation. I am a “creative,” after all. It'll be part of my schtick.

Here's the photo you nosy people keep clamoring for. Go ahead - make your jokes. It'll grow out...eventually.

WHITE MEN CAN JUMP

We're just not very good at it.

FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE

So I'm watching Survivor here, enjoying a couple of pan-fried pork chops, when the CBS channel 2 news center catches my attention during a commercial break. I shit you not, this is what I hear:

"Why hundreds of thousands of chicagoland residents are being told to have their tap water tested immediately. Could you be one? Find out tonight at ten."

Excuse me? If hundreds of thousands of people need to check their tap water immediately, shouldn't you tell us who they are immediately?? What's this "find out at 10" horseshit? I hate these fucking scare tactics news programs use to lure us in. I'm hitting the sink right now and downing as much tap water as my belly can hold in the hope I get deathly ill so I can sue the shit out of CBS Channel 2 for withholding vital public health safety information.

Bastards.

FOR SPORTS AND GIGGLES

Thanks to Dr. Barnyard Friend for this hilarious spoof of ESPN.com . The Dickie V column is a fucking scream. Be sure to check out the mock stories on the right side. WNBA Player Suspended For Not Being Gay.

Fanfuckingtastic!

OUT OF SERVICE

One of the big knocks against big businesses is that they can’t provide the same level of customer service as the mom and pop shops. It’s just hard for a faceless corporate entity to give you the same personal attention as your friendly, neighborhood boutique down the street. But things are definitely changing, my friends. Here’s an example…

I routinely order my contact lenses through the online service 1-800 Contacts and have never had a problem. My last order, however, was taking a bit long to arrive, so I called to check on the status of my delivery. The customer representative on the phone politely acquiesced that my shipment should have arrived long ago and agreed to send out another shipment of $210 contacts absolutely free. She then told me that if the original ones should arrive at some point, I should just send those back. But, of course, we both knew that was code for, “If the original ones show up at some point, keep those, too.”

A week later I received a hand-written apology by that very same customer rep. She’d included a coupon for money off my next order. All because my package had been lost in the mail – it wasn’t even their fault! But they valued me as a customer and wanted to keep me happy. Now THAT’S service.

By contrast, here’s an experience I just had with the friendly dry cleaner located in my building. The shop is very small and always staffed by the same, polite Korean woman who not only remembers me, but remembers my name and unit number. Last week I brought in 7 button-down dress shirts to be laundered with light starch. I dropped them off on Monday and she told me they would be ready on Wednesday, which was a little longer than usual for laundry – but I was in no hurry, so whatever.

I returned that Friday to pick up my shirts. She saw me walk in and immediately went to the rack. I waited patiently while her mechanical closet spun full wardrobes of plastic-covered suits, shirts, dresses, and coats past us. She ran the motor for awhile, checked a few tags here and there, stopped and started the machine over and again, moved the line forward and reverse, and finally started digging through the clothes as they went by. You can probably guess what happens next. Mine were missing.

After an uncomfortable five minutes, she finally gave up and told me they were lost and that she’d have to call me back. Good thing I gave them a couple of extra days, I thought.

An hour later she called me at work to let me know that my shirts had been located, but were not laundered. “You come Monday,” she said. I wasn’t sure if she was asking me or telling me, but I realized I didn’t really have a choice, so I agreed. At least I’d get a discount, I thought.

I went back in this week to pick up my shirts and, as usual, she remembered me right away. After apologizing profusely for the delay, she proceeded to ring me up for the full price. I probably could have negotiated a discount of some kind, but I knew the mistake had been unintentional and was just glad to have my shirts back. I paid her the full amount and left.

On the way to the car I looked at the shirts and realized one of them wasn’t mine. So I headed right back in and told her one of the shirts did not belong to me. One was still missing. She showed me two other shirts on a nearby rack and asked if either one was mine. They were not. She asked my size, then took one of the shirts off the rack and told me it was mine. “You take shirt,” she said. Certain it was not my shirt, I declined. She insisted. “Maybe you take shirt and see if fit.” At this point I understood everything. She was offering me someone else’s shirt to replace the one she had lost. Aside from the fact that it would have been loose on Marlon Brando, it was simply wrong. She was running her dry cleaning business like a community closet.

“This is not my shirt,” I said. “Mine was white.” I then pictured her offering up and giving away my white shirt to the last guy who lost one. She apologetically jotted my phone number down and told me she’d look for it and give me a call back.

This morning I put on one of the shirts (that was actually mine) and noticed a button had disintegrated somehow to a fragmented little nub. Not only had they misplaced my shirts, forgot to wash them, delivered them late, charged me full price anyway, lost an entire shirt and tried to replace it with a tablecloth – they’d now fractured a button, rendering it unwearable.

That was the last straw. I dug through the trunk of my car for an empty gas can and marched over to the dry cleaner. I barged in angrily, startling a couple of patrons, and sending a set of door chimes flying across the tiny room. The gas can in one hand and a book of matches in the other, I stared across the counter and uttered: “You burned me, now I burn you.” Everyone scrambled in a panic as I began…

And then I woke up and realized I hadn’t really set flame to the dry cleaners. That was the good news. The bad news was that the rest of the story was true. Funny how a big company like 1-800-Contacts could provide better customer service than my friendly neighborhood dry cleaner. It just goes to show that companies, like people, should be judged individually, on their own merits, and not as a function of blind assumption.

And I still haven't heard back from the dry cleaner.

INFORMATION HIGHWAY ROBBERY

I don’t like this one AT ALL. My dad sent me this link yesterday. It’s a website that will let anyone in the world have a peek at your driver’s license, including all of the information which may be on it! I was shocked that this kind of sensitive information has been made public. I strongly encourage all of you to have your license removed from the database.

For your convenience, I’ve included the link to the site here. Just enter your name, city, state, and ZIP to see if yours is on file. If it is, click on the “Please Remove” tab and then search for it again to make sure it has been removed.

You’re welcome.

COOL BEANS

I finally got them to switch to regular coffee here at work.

I can feel it inspiring me to do something great. Just not sure what. All I can say for certain is that my bowels definitely approve of the move, so to speak.

BUZZ NUGGETS

Here’s some more of my handiwork, because I know you people are interested. It's a little work I did for a company that claims to manufacture the only confection of its kind made in America – a bite-sized piece of chocolate filled with real espresso. They didn’t have a name for it, so I was put to the task of coming up with something sweet (pun forced). I came up with scores of options to choose from – in the end, a focus group helped us select Espresso Secrets.

My personal recommendation was to market them on college campuses as “Buzz Nuggets” with the tagline "Good to go." As is so often the case in my life, no one took me seriously.

Anyhow, a year and a half later they finally got around to producing the damn things and I was proud to see they’re still using my copy to promote them. I actually had a couple and must admit they were tasty. Is it time for a coffee break?

JOWLING BALL

Proof that cyberspace can be wasted.

SAY UNCLE SAM!

President Bush, speaking at a news conference with Panamanian President Martin Torrijos, defended U.S. interrogation practices this week, insisting forcefully that "We do not torture."

Bush obviously hasn't seen Deuce Bigalow 2. Hollywood promotes cultural agony worldwide as a matter of habit. I can hear the whimpering voices of international passengers on trans-oceanic flights right now: "Please, please, I beg you - make it stop. Make it STOP!"

THE IMPORTANCE OF BEING ERNEST

" I love sleep...It's when I'm awake that my life falls apart."

~Ernest Hemingway

SWOON SONG

Here’s a site that makes Astrology fun. Check on compatibility, get daily horoscopes, or find out all about yourself. They've also got this handy dream interpreter that tells you all about your dreams, including a forecast for things to come. Even keep an online dream diary that logs all of your dreams for future reference. I had a dream last night that I was drafted by the military, forgot my asthma medication, and missed the bus. I chased down the bus only to discover it was the wrong one. Not a great dream, really, but at least it wasn't my usual episode of burning and drowning at the same time. Anyhow, it's definitely worth a few minutes next time you need to take a brain break at work. They've even got a special category for dreams about Tori Spelling. I don't know what that says about us as a people, but it can't be good.

TUBES & TUBERS

Thanks to cindy and steve, my windy city neighbors:

Terry,

Thought you might this:

POTATO LAUNCHER

He can shoot a potato farther than 500 feet. Hey, it's something to do at a pig roast!

************

Believe it or not, my good friend Dr. Faber actually had one of these bad boys and I saw it in action a couple years ago on our annual camping trip. It's as fun as it is dangerous!

THE CASE OF THE STICKY BUNS

When the urge to take a monster dump struck Bob Dougherty, 57, in the middle of his trip to Home Depot, he couldn’t have imagined it would go down like this.

Bob hastily stepped into the bathroom of his Home Depot in Boulder, Colorado, expecting your average everyday defacatory experience. What he got instead was stuck to the toilet seat. That’s because some ingenious prankster thought it would be a good idea to line the seat with superglue. [Warning: Do not try this at home]

According to the lawsuit filed last Friday, Bob, who was recovering from heart bypass surgery at the time, thought he was having a heart attack when he couldn’t lift himself off the pot. He immediately started calling for help but no one came to his rescue. Would YOU respond to pleas from a man in a restroom at a Home Depot claiming to be stuck to a toilet seat? Really? You would? Me too.

Anyhow, a store employee heard him calling and informed the head clerk by radio, but the head clerk believed it was a hoax. Bob spent 15 minutes on the throne before the paramedics were finally called in. The seat had to be unbolted from the porcelain commode and Bob had to be wheeled out of the store with it firmly fastened to his backside. The seat was later removed, leaving abrasions on his arse. Sounds like an episode of Nip/Tuck to me.

Bob said he doesn’t blame Home Depot, but he IS upset he was left sitting in the bathroom for 15 minutes while calling for help, hence the lawsuit.

Ladies and gentlemen, Bob was the victim of a criminal act. There’s no doubt about it. He went through a lot of pain, discomfort, and humiliation that day. But, unfortunately, not all criminals get caught. We can’t just go around awarding damages to victims because we feel bad for them. Home Depot was not to blame here, nor were its employees. The assmuncher who cemented Bob’s cheeks to the seat is the guilty party. He’s the fucknut we really need to get our hands on. Punishing Home Depot by awarding compensation to Bob for a sticky bun incident wouldn’t be an act of justice. Is Home Depot expected to hire bathroom monitors at all of its store locations to prevent future such incidents? Is McDonald’s for that matter? Or Starbucks? The fact is, you can’t prevent idiot pranksters from performing random acts of havoc like this. Sometimes you can catch them and prosecute them. But when you don’t catch them, you don’t pass the blame to the next person in line. I feel for Bob – I really do. But my decision is for the defendant. Case dismissed.

HALLOWEEN DREAMS

Geri and I only had a few minutes to throw together our Halloween costumes this year before trick or treating for drinks, so this is the best we could come up with.

With scissors and glue, we manufactured our own Chicago Cubs World Champion shirts. Surprisingly, our "costumes" ended up being a hit. People liked them because they were original and conceptual: Geri was "in denial" and I was "dreaming." WE liked them because they cost $10 and took 10 minutes to make. Plus, we got to deface a perfectly good White Sox t-shirt in the process.

Oh yeah...and I also got to wear my pajama bottoms to the bar. You really ought to try that some time - it's a whole different world out there when you're in your PJs.

MIND GAMES

Here’s a link that ought to keep you occupied a while .

UNFAIR AND OFF BALANCE

A few years ago I discovered something called the Fox News Channel. I was immediately drawn to its colorful, sensational presentation, and soon found I was preferring it to the comparably uninspired approach of other news networks. Fox had character…and I liked that.

The flashy Fox formula was soon duplicated by MSNBC and CNN, but there was still something I found appealing about Fox. It just seemed easier to digest somehow. My tastes have since changed, however, after having taken a closer look at how they cook their "news."

It didn’t dawn on me for quite some time that if you have to keep telling people you’re “fair and balanced,” chances are you’re probably not. Yet they drilled that message home over and over again, every chance they got, and with pleasant authority like a hypnotist telling me to relax. And every morning I’d watch the talking heads on Fox spew forth commentary disguised as news. I’d listen to carefully selected experts cite suspect and often refutable statistics in defense of their points of view. I’d see guests offering alternative perspectives berated and belittled in a hostile public forum. I actually started resenting the very news presentation I’d come to prefer.

I began to note how, behind all the fancy graphics and quick-hit breaking news alerts, there was an unmistakable undercurrent that pulled strongly right. I actually found myself laughing aloud at the ludicrous opinions offered up as articles of rational thought. These people are insane, I’d think, if they honestly believe some of the things coming out of their mouths. The Fox News Channel was about as fair and balanced as 24 hours of Tucker Carlson debating with a stuffed bear (an argument I’m not so sure he’d win, incidentally). More frightening than that was the fact that people actually watched this shit. And I was one of those people!

Morning and night, the Fox News Channel beat down its cable news competitors. And people loved the one-sided approach to news for the same reason they tuned in to hear Rush Limbaugh vomit diarrhea into a microphone every afternoon – because when you tell people how to think, they don’t have to think for themselves. And the presentation of opinion as fact is a clever means of telling people how to think without telling them you’re telling them how to think. Further, they actually think they’re thinking for themselves! Not only that, but then these brainwashed disciples go out into the world and spread a gospel of nonsense like fertilizer on artificial turf – making a big, stinkin’ counterproductive mess.

I don’t know where to get my news these days. All the cable news networks seem to have gone sensationalist on me. I guess that’s why I take such pleasure in making up my own news, not unlike the wizard who put together this entertaining collection of faux Fox News Channel reports .

Good shit, y'all.