Reader alert: This is NOT a politically correct rant.
This has gone beyond stupid. We are now entering the universe of the ultimate, supreme Ridonkulous way of running the world. I’ve got my shorts so knotted up I could just spit.
Months ago I shot my television because I couldn’t stand the senseless drivel spewing forth from a whole tribe of empty suits. And it just got worse. Well, some idiot relative of mine over in the next county “gifted” me a computer. Should have known, but NOOOOW I’m thinking maybe I should watch these idiots from afar so I know when to hightail it to the wilds of Montana or some such.
I swear the wily, slimy tentacles of the “lamestream media” (I actually sort of like that one) will reach out and find you, grab you by the stacking swivel and eat your brain.
They tried “transvaginal probes” (no, I’m not going there), gay marriage, Hugh Ja-debt, birther stuff, and then violence against women. “Shut your woman face. You DO NOT matter.” Well, hey buddy, my Mom’s one of those women folk. And if you don’t STFU I’ll goin’ whomp you up the head so hard, you’ll wake up yesterday.
Seems like they have some strange obsession with anything that gets people nose -to -nose or toes -to -toes. Almost went over the line with the religion thing, cult this, cult that. Just shut the front door, please. It’s goin’ to be a long hot summer.
Anything to keep us from asking the right question, like “just what have you done for ME lately?” Hell, they have about $2 BILLION, or gazillion semolians to spend—so they has to get creative. Ya know, my Granddad use to say, “Work expands into the time allowed for it”. Well, yes sir-ree here’s an example of bloviating, ignoramuses expanding into the time allowed. More money, more time, more crap.
And just about the time they run out of junk to throw, some bad numbers show up about folks like you and me—the little people, the God help us—the workers. Well, hold on to your snogglewart ‘cause here they go. It’s about J-O-B-S. It’s about J-O-B-S!!!! On and on and on. Thought maybe my CNN channel and Faux Newspurt had one of them viruses. No, just the slime balls trying to rot my brain.
Maynard’s got a new word for them. He calls ‘em asshats. Kind of a funny word. Looked it up on Gawoogle. (Clears throat) Technically, it means a condition common among political types. The Doc told me it’s really an “anal-cranial” inversion wherein those two parts of their anatomy get stuck together. Interesting, it seems it usually comes along with a certain poopy outlook on the world. Well, hell that explainifies it, as 43 would say.
So, the asshats say it’s about J-O-B-S. Must admit they had me purely fooled for a while. Then I came to my senses, assisted by a slight change in my meds. It works better to use bourbon instead of water to wash ‘em down. Dammed ADHD.
Anyway, back at the ranch. It comes to me in a blinding flash of the obvious, J-O-B-S really means (drum roll, hang on):
Damn straight, it is about J-O-B-S, but not the ones they want you to think about. They have got to think I’m just dumber than a box of rocks. Well, they have gone over the cliff on this one. Driving way too fast for their headlights.
So, I’m going to give it to you straight up. That thing you used to think of as a “ J O B” is flatass gone, never coming back. Things change and the sooner everyone (including the asshats) get over it and move on the better we are going to be. Think I’m plum nuts, huh?
This isn’t about a business cycle. It’s a major, major change. Just like you can’t get the poop back in the dog, we are not going backwards. So, stop yammerin’ about doing those things that worked 100 years ago. This ain’t 100 years ago.
Well, just go hide and watch. You need to take personal responsibility and go do the things that will get you money, some jingle in your pocket. And we don’t even have a name for that yet. You don’t need a J O B, you need something’ to do that other people will give you something for. See what I’m saying’?
So, how many buggy whip makers do you know? How many quill pen writers do you know? How many telegraph operators? Get the picture?
They are talking about something that doesn’t have any meaning anymore—and blaming it on the other guy. Wow! That’s real three card Monty, there. Round these parts people get tarred, feathered, and run out of town on a rail for doing that stuff. And telling’ Mom to shut up—my, my we are stupid.
Reminds me of Uncle Bucksmucker. A bit touched in the head they say. He stands on a corner down from the Feedstore and Emporium clapping his hands all the time. You walk up to him and ponder, “What are you doing?” Calm as could be he says, “I’m keepin’ the unicorns away”. Hey, there’s no unicorns round here. “See there it’s workin’.
It’s about the J-O-B-S all right. Not to despair, dear hearts. I’ll be back next time with five things you best be doin’ right quick so you don’t get sucked down this rabbit whole. Take a peek under the tent:
Next time you hear ‘bout those J O B S, just cogitate on poor ol’ Buford out here having his very sensibilities offended. It’s plum pitiful.
Go Occupy this, Asshats.