Category: Culture

Let’s Fix The World!

fix the world

Let’s face it, folks!  We’re screwed — like totally.  Western society is in an unholy hole, and every time some bright-bulb-somebody shows up with a shovel and tries to fix things, they just end up digging us in a little deeper.  In my lifetime, the poor have gotten poorer, the hungry have gotten hungrier and the homeless have gotten — uh — well, you can’t actual get any homelesser, but given the wretched state of things, they probably would be — if it were at all possible.  The point is, we need to do something — yesterday — or we’re going to find out rock bottom has a basement.  Unfortunately, our world has been hijacked by stupid people.  We all know there’s no cure for stupid, but with a little ingenuity, we can limit the ability of these morons to control the agenda.  This is not a quick fix, and it could take a generation or two to get things under control, but if we act now there’s still time to save our society.  Here are three things we need to do immediately, or the next voice we’re going to hear is President Dwayne Elizondo Mountain Dew Herbert Camacho from Idiocracy, declaring war on asparagus.

1 — We need to make people take a test (and pass it!) before they’re allowed to vote.  Here’s the deal: plumbers have to take a test (and pass it) before they’re allowed to play around with your sewer pipes; electricians have to take a test before they’re allowed to install a light switch; even cab drivers have to take a test before their allowed to drive you home from the bar.  Yet, when it comes to politics and selecting the folks who are actually going to run the world, we abandon all due diligence and let every dumbass who can make an ‘X’ have a say — an equal say, BTW.  No wonder most of our leaders have nice hair, good teeth and no brains.

2 — We need to make people who want to become parents go to Parenting School.  Here’s the deal: if you want to be a teacher and teach kids, you have to go to school.  If you want to open a Day Care and look after kids, you have to go to school.  Hell, in some places if you want to be an occasional babysitter — you have to go to school.  Yet, if you want to become a parent and be totally — 100% — responsible for a helpless child’s comfort, nutrition, safety and education, their physical, psychological, moral and spiritual wellbeing, and work diligently 24/7 for 18 years (without a day off) to turn them into responsible adults — all you have to do is have one too many tequilas, let a foot massage get out of hand and 9 months later — Shazam! — you’re a parent.  Does this make any sense?  Letting a bunch of people who haven’t got a clue about life have kids and pass their cluelessness on to the next generation is what’s exponentially killing our society.

But first — before we do all that:

3 — We need to take the warning labels off everything.  This is Darwinism at its best, and it might be exactly what our world needs right now.

Mean Words About Insurance

car-accident

The entire insurance industry is based on the simple premise that there are any number of ways to rob somebody without sticking a gun in their face.  Over centuries of thievery, insurance people have mastered every one of them.  To call insurance companies shysters is an insult to shysters everywhere.  Here are a few things everyone should know about insurance.

FULL DISCLOSURE:  I’ve had insurance in one form or another for most of my life, so I am well-versed in the wiles of these swindlers.

Insurance Agents — These are magical people who are literally everywhere when they’re trying to sell you insurance but suddenly vanish off the face of the earth after you buy it.

The Policy — This a mind-baffling 60 page document written by a cabal of blood-sucking lawyers.  (No, not all lawyers are bloodsuckers, but the 99% who are give the others a bad name.)  Its express purpose is to legally deny everything the salespeople (agent) ever said to you — including “Good morning.”

Deductible — This is a sneaky way of saying “We’re always going to keep some of the money we owe you, because — uh — we can.”  Nobody has ever given me a satisfactory reason why the “deductible” even exists.  What is its actual purpose?  Or how do I, the customer, benefit from having a “deductible?”  Want some serious John Oliver grins?  Phone up your insurance company and ask them to explain the “deductible” to you.

Claim Form — This a mind-baffling 60 page questionnaire written by a cabal of blood-sucking lawyers.  (No, not all lawyers are bloodsuckers but the 99% who are give the others a bad name.)  Its express purpose is a) to prove you’re a lying, cheating criminal or b) to frustrate you to the point of gut-splattering suicide.

The Payout — Should catastrophe actually befall you, get ready for a trial by fire.  This ordeal will include (but will not be limited to) a mountain of paperwork, months of argument, 19 emails, 27 telephone calls, 8 hours on hold, a letter to your political representative, a formal complaint to the Board of Trade, and thousands of dollars to your own blood-sucking lawyer.  Then, at the precise moment you’re seriously contemplating homicide, suicide — or both — the insurance company will offer you a minuscule amount of money (minus the “deductible”) for your trouble.  This will be an insulting fraction of what they promised you when you bought the damn policy, but a word of advice.  Take it — or they’ll start the whole process all over again.

So what’s it all about:

What is Insurance? —  Insurance is a bet you make with a nameless, faceless, soulless corporation that something terrible is going to happen to you.  Every month, you ante up a sum of money (called the premium.)  This “premium” is held by the insurance company, and if you happen to avoid disaster for 30 days, you lose the bet and the nameless, faceless, soulless corporation gets to keep your money.  This little exercise is repeated — month after month, year after year — until you either go broke, get sick, die or your house burns down.  Thus, weird as it sounds, every month that life is good, you lose the bet and lose your money.  But if your life does go to hell and you finally win the bet — you still lose!

DISCLAIMER:  This is satire, and I am sure that there are plenty of insurance companies out there who are honest and trustworthy — but like unicorns, leprechauns and howling banshees, I’ve never seen one.

When Harry Met Meghan

harry

The date’s been set, the hall’s been booked, the dress has been selected and the invitations are being printed — even as we speak.  All I have to do now is watch the mail to make sure mine gets here in time.  Then it’s rent a tux and off to Jolly Olde England for The Wedding Of The Year! (Sorry, Celeste!)

Even if you’re a hopeless anti-monarchist, you know that Prince Harry is going to marry Meghan Markle on May 19th — and by all accounts, this is going to be quite the shindig.  First of all, the Brits do pomp and circumstance better than anyone, but, more importantly, this is Prince Harry.  This is the guy who punched a paparazzi in the face and split his lip.  The guy who wore a Nazi uniform to a costume party.  And the guy who was photographed playing strip billiards in Vegas (and obviously losing.)  Brother William might be the future king of England, Scotland, Wales, etc., etc., etc., but Harry’s the royal you want to drink tequila with.  Here’s a lad who knows how to party, and what better party than his own wedding reception?

Plus, when your grandma is Queen Elizabeth II — the richest, most prestigious woman on the planet — the sky’s the limit.  After all, rumour has it, that she’s the one who picked up the phone and got the Spice Girls back together just ’cause her grandson thought it would be cool.  Personally, if I was Harry, that would be the tip of the iceberg.  On my wedding day, I’d roll up to the church in a gold coach, pulled by panda bears — while the Vienna Boys Choir sang “Another One Bites The Dust.”  (But that’s just me!)

The thing is Harry is never going to be king, and everybody knows it.  (By the time the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge get finished in April, he’s going to be relegated to 7th in line to the British throne which, in royal terms, means he might as well be a pub owner from Putney!)  Essentially, he’s a royal nobody.  So, what do you do when your brother’s the heir and you’re the spare?  You don’t really have a job, but you can’t just wander off to the Cotswolds and grow vegetables, either.  I think it’s remarkable that Harry has carved himself out a place in the world — two military tours in Afghanistan, trekking to the North and South Poles and organizing the Invictus Games — and, he’s had a hell of a lot of fun doing it.

I approve of Harry.  He may go off the royal rails every now and again, but he does understand what it takes to make an irrelevant prince relevant in the 21st century.  Besides, I like it that — even though he’s obligated to wear the very straight strait-jacket of the House of Windsor — he still tends to go his own way.

The truth is I’m probably not going to get invited to the wedding of His Royal Highness, Prince Henry of Wales to Ms. Meghan Markle, but, that’s okay, because the invitation I’m actually waiting for is to Harry’s Stag Party.