YOU know, with all the great things at the 99¢ Only store all the time, there’s really no excuse for me to not post at least one such item a day no matter how busy I am, looming deadlines for actual paying gigs be damned!
“That way,” as my blogging mentor, or blogntor, Sylvia Haynes-Darden advised us in her recent continuing education class Mommyblogging for the Childless, “there’s new content continuously, regardless of how uninteresting and/or esoteric your blog is.”
And brother, my blog is nothing if not uninteresting and/or esoteric. I mean, there’s obscure references on this blog that even I don’t get, and I’m the one who wrote them. But don’t worry, you’re not missing much – they’re about as fascinating as Chapter XII (“Of the Motion of Water Issuing from a Cylindric Vessel”) in Colin Maclauren’s 1801 masterwork “A Treatise on Fluxions.”
Eh, anyway, without further fondue (you’ll get it in a minute), I give you today’s item: Cheese! See, now you get it.
Note: The preceding was written in 2014 but never posted. Folks, bear with me — I’m trying to re-find my blogging voice [industry term], and the first step in doing this is to go over the more than two dozen drafts I started to write but never finished and posted…and, eh, finish ’em and post ’em. You’ll agree each one is a fascinating snapshot of what it was like to live in American society as a disenfranchised* person back then — and yet today, somehow remain just as timely as ever!
*They had, at the time of this writing, recently repossessed the Uncle Razmik’s Falafel Wads™ rolling kiosk I had almost paid off and barred me from the food court.
“SORRY I haven’t blogged in a while…”
How many times have we all read that, after doing a search on something, finding an interactive hypertext underlined word, or link [blogging term], clicking on same and then “surfin’ on in” (as you like to say), onto someone’s personal website who happens to have posted an entry about the specific thing you’re trying to find out about? A lot of times, sure. Back when we all read blogs, that is.
So your introduction to this person who you aren’t the least bit interested in beyond whatever specific information you were looking for — a scanned owners manual for a late 1940s Norge RB 66-L refrigerator, a review of that seasonal Kwanzaa Crunch cereal that Quaker releases in December, the rollout of a new font in the aisle markers for a southern US grocery chain, whether that new cheese store got in a shipment of desiccated pomelo cheddar (and if it, yet again, has special ‘holiday’ hours), etc. — that brought you there in the first place is…that he (or she! #MeToo!) is apologizing for not blogging more.
How lame is that! And like anyone cares!
Besides — was the world really suffering from a dearth of poorly written pieces that go on and on and on about people who bring dogs into stores, or what the calcified old biddies at some incompetently managed San Fernando Valley women’s club are up to this week?
No, certainly not! I haven’t posted new material in over two blessed years, and rather than apologize, I expect your gratitude for not doing so! Yeah! You’re frickin’ welcome!
And what’s more — now you’re all going to pay, all, what, six of you, because I’m back, brother! I’m back and more inane and out of touch than ever! If the posts I was banging out on this site were embarrassing to read before, you ain’t seen nothing yet!
…Or who knows, maybe this’ll be the sole entry for 2019 and then this thing just withers here, swaying in the wind like a desiccated pomelo until I stop paying the cost to host this thing and it just disappears, forgotten as quickly as a reference to linoleum block-printing on a LiveJournal.
Either way, be sure to check back every day and see! Maybe next time I’ll include an inside joke crafted just for you!
Although you might possibly be forgiven if you wait until everything’s 50% off.
BACK IN 2009, some blogger stirred up some trouble when she realized that Walmart was selling store brand knockoff versions of a coupla of Girl Scout Cookies — Thin Mints and whatever the peanut butter ones are called. The good peanut butter ones. (Not those awful dry peanut butter sandwich cookie ones that no one likes.)
Anyway, it was a big deal for a few days and people picked sides, and we went to war, and many good people died. But me, I never understood what the issue was since Keebler already had been selling their own knockoffs of Thin Mints, the peanut butter ones (the good peanut butter ones) and even the Samoa ones for some time before this without anyone calling Keebler “evil” — a descriptor that Walmart didn’t escape in that little fracas (nor any other one, it seems).
So that was, what?, eight years ago. Then last year it was announced that Kelloggs was going to be releasing a Keebler chocolate chip cookie cereal, and the cereal blogs went crazy over that — those that update their content, that is. Not to be outdone, General Mills spoke of plans for a “limited edition” Girl Scouts Cookie Thin Mint cereal and the internet really went ballistic, with thousands upon thousands of people glancing at the various articles referencing it that appeared in their Facebook feed — and many even taking that all-important extra step of showing their unbridled enthusiasm by clicking “Like” and writing asinine comments like “can’t wait” and “ooh, luv me some thin mints.” Now that’s commitment!
Anyway, as regular readers of this blog know, this afternoon I was in Walmart and I saw both of them…
…and there they were, side-by-side, best of friends. I guess it’s nice to know that Walmart, Keebler and the Girl Scouts of America have all buried the hatchet.
However, I can’t resist pointing out that at 18.5 ounces, the “Family Size” box of Girl Scout Cookie Thin Mint Cereal ($3.98), weighs more than twice as much as a box of Girl Scouts’ Thin Mints — which are currently being sold here in Southern California for $5 a box(!).
I checked the Girl Scout website and their cookie-sellin’ schedule says they’ll be outside my local Walmart sellin’ cookies this Saturday from noon to three.
So my dilemma is whether to mock the little girls as I leave the store by refusing to buy their cookies but waving a box of their own licensed cereal in their faces, or to mock them by refusing to buy their cookies but waving a package of Walmart’s mint cookies at them.
As if this wasn’t disturbing enough…!
As if every aspect of this news story isn’t bad enough!
And it’s at Rhode Island School of Design! RISD! One of our nation’s most important art schools! The art school with such high standards, they even rejected my portfolio!
If there’s nothing but tolerant, accepting, progressive people at a major art school — an art school people! — I don’t know what to think! Well, for the record, I’m sure there’s a majority of tolerant, accepting, progressive people there…but evidently at least one bad apple.
And as though all that weren’t bad enough, there’s more!
To make this story even worse…
Someone thought “feces” needed to be pluralized into “feceses.”
“…At the tone, leave your name & message. I’ll get back to you.”
:: beeeep ::
“Hey, Rockford — it’s Moss Williams. You remember me. From the joint. Yeah, well I’m out now and it’s payback time. When I find you, I’m takin’ you out!”
* * * * * *
“So after this, Rockford, maybe you an’ me, maybe we get some cotton candy & hit the merry-go-round. Whaddaya say?”
Chicken Soup for the Soul…cat food. Featuring of all the things cats love: Red-skinned potatoes, spinach, carrots, and sweet potatoes.
There must have been a lot of drinking at the licensing expo that year.
That this product even exists is not the craziest part.
No, the craziest part is that the 99¢ Only store is trying to unload these small, Fancy Feast-sized cans of it for, yes, 99¢ Only…each.
At that price, the old people on severely fixed incomes who shop at 99¢ Only are going to starve!
Eleven years ago Richard Black took paintbrush in hand and changed the face of modern art forever…
Let’s take a closer look, hmm?
In the foreground, we’ve got a rather stern-looking woman in her classic LBD. She’s not a dame to be trifled with, by that look on her puss!
She contemplates life as she peers out over the ocean. Has she been stood up? Perhaps she’s just broken up with someone. Or is she angry that despite trying the controversial and painful hot-glob-of-tar-to-the-scalp treatment, at least one stubborn, hardy arachnid from that tarantula infestation on her head still remains?
And that churning sea — does it call to her? Can she sense Cthulhu beckoning through that vestigial tentacle she’s thrown stylishly over her shoulder?
Now as for the wreckage behind her: A Porsche has careened off the road, onto the sidewalk and crashed into the railing. The impact has caused the hood to fly up with enormous force yet instead of crumpling into a dented, folded, collapsed wad of mangled steel, it now resembles a sliver of uncooked beef at a Mongolian barbecue — a phenomenon someone with a better understanding of physics than myself could probably explain.
Did the driver, or driveh, as the vanity plate reads, survive? Is that him (or her) looking at the Woman at the Railing, or is it merely a pale, black-clad passerby, stopping to peer at the carnage inside, on his or her way to a beat poetry reading at a local café?
There’s no right answer. It’s up to the viewer to interpret the scene.
One thing’s for sure, though: If he did crash because he was distracted by the painting’s main figure — and he survived — he should thank his lucky stars. There was no way he’d have walked away from hitting head-on that enormous wall of matzoh bread that the road dead-ends into just a few yards farther.
Mmm-mm! Green watermelon frosting!
…Or there was a big argument and subsequent falling-out.
Or maybe it just got weird in general having this around, as it offers no clue as to whom it refers.
Presumably, this large wooden block — it seems to be an about 10″ section of a two-by-four — was a gift from one “bestie,” as you kids insist on saying, to another.
But then what? The recipient puts it on her coffee table or a shelf in the living room and everyone who comes over starts wondering, “Is she just really friendly?” “Is that about me?” “Does she think I’m her best friend?” and “Sheesh, I’m just here to fix the cable. Now apparently I’ve got to clear my Sunday for brunch with this woman.”
And, dear God, what happens if two of her friends visit at the same time?! The confusion! The awkwardness! The inevitable catfight!
Nope, she was right to get rid of it.
Of course, the curse strikes again with whoever buys it and gives it next.