For a while there, people started calling them attorneys and stopped making macabre jokes about how finding scores of them dead at the bottom of the ocean wasn’t so bad. But, now it looks like we are back to where things were in the 1990s when some shifty bastard got a lady a million bucks for spilling coffee on her crotch.
Any good lawyer jokes please leave in the comments.
When you’re picking up somebody at the airport, don’t act like you’re in a scene from a romantic comedy. Don’t get out and give them a big hug and kiss and put your flashers on. Don’t sit there in the second lane and ask how the food was in ___________. If you can actually keep the wheels moving on the vechicle, pop the trunk and have your transportee take a runner into the passenger seat like you’re pulling a bank job, it’s best for everyone.
With the free market dictating so much of society these days, I have found that my clothing, appearance, and hygiene are all directly impacted by its invisible forces.
For starters, the fleeting possibility of having grand events to celebrate any successes has brought me to wear all my nice items inappropriately to everyday situations so they don’t go to waste before I die. Like a street bum, I use all items in my possession wisely and like a rapper I am overdressing to compensate for how poor I am. This can also prove practical. Getting drunk on a Tuesday in a tuxedo jacket and Ascot? Going to come in handy when I am selling pills and bartered jewelry out of my coat to make rent. I can also conceal a knife in here in case anyone wants to steal a kidney, or my pills.
A hat is great. In addition to looking like the gentleman you are, they’ll keep you dry while sleeping in the rain and are easy to come by on windy days.
With all this running around, it might be tempting to take a shower. But with the price of freshwater increasing as public infrastructure is decimated in the face of privatization, we all should get used to the idea of skipping one every once in awhile. If you don’t have access to a shower, here’s what to do: wash your crack with damp napkins at a food restaurant bathroom – the employees won’t be the wiser as you are dressed like a gentleman ; ) Some forest preserves still have well water too, if vagrancy has brought upon you that good fortune. When really hard up for cash and in need of a shower, barter a couple seconds of Do-It-Yourself car wash water from Uber-drivers hosing the puke off their car. All you need is 10 seconds on spot free rinse to have a perfectly effective bidet and only in rare cases do they need to wash the whole vehicle too. If none of these options are possible, use perfume/eau de toilette to cover up your stink. This is what the French invented the stuff for, and everyone has old bottles lying around. You have to do something about the smell of cigars, whiskey, jaundice, and B.O. on your person, and running freshwater + a bar of soap are not always an option!
I guess my point is you have to be resourceful and look at everything like a commodity these days. You never know when you’ll have to give a handjob under a zoo tunnel for dope or talk your way into a country club to swipe fine china, but you can- at the very least, be prepared.
If you noticed we didn’t throw this post up for Monday until Wednesday, you’re one of our very astute, loyal readers. For the other 7,442,999,993 people on earth, disregard.
Also, does anyone know if people still say, “A case of the Mondays”? The movie is almost 20 years old. I guess its cult-classic status insulates it from really becoming ironic.
My brother recently pointed out to me the lack of skywriting these days. It always seemed like a bold way to get around a restraining order to me, but I’m sure it served some legitimate purposes in its heyday. I imagine the focus on chem trails from conspiracy nuts hasn’t helped. Plus, Assad is hogging all the Sarin gas, so supplies can’t be easy to come by.
imgross will be diligently looking into a cost-effective manner to advertise through the dying medium.
I get a good chuckle every time I read the back of the El Milagro tortilla chips bag. They have some oddly specific instructions and suggestions. I think they’re marketing department wanted to make sure that if someone came into possession of a bag, and had no idea what a tortilla chips was, they’d still know what to do.
When I was a kid, I had the great fortune of being a participant in ‘The Bozo Show’. My team lost but we still went home with a set of ‘Uno’ cards and a Tengen ‘Double Dragon’ handheld game. Solid prizes.
The game I played involved passing a ball from your chin to your chest (no hands) to the next player. The first team down and back one.
I remember that they went for a line up with alternating male and female contestants. I also remember being relentlessly ridiculed by my brothers about how the gals on each side of were my ‘girlfriends’.
If they were my girlfriends, I’d like a chance to explain. I was six, and only knew how to call 911 and my grandma. Sorry girls. I’m such a typical man. I meant no disrespect.
Anyhow, still got ‘Double Dragon’ and I’m gonna grab some AA batteries and honor Bozo the only way I know how. Rest in Seltzer bottles my sweet clown.
They think they’re soooooo funny.
St. Patrick’s Day has come and gone for another year, and local man Sean Harrington, 28, can’t help but wonder if he did it right. “It only falls on an actual Saturday every handful of years, so you gotta make sure you do it right,” he said. He spent the morning eating powder eggs and cheap domestic beer, dyed green, and then made his way on an alcohol fueled, haphazard pub crawl.
“I lost most of my friends by about 1 or 2 PM,” Harrington vaguely recalled. “My last clear memory is of doing a car bomb and then pissing in an alley. It’s like I vaguely recall puking, I think I saw some boobs, and I definitely pissed myself when I passed out on my couch, but was it enough?”
Was it enough, indeed. The question will plague Harrington until 2029, the next time St. Patrick’s Day will fall on a Saturday.
This article in the Trib caught my eye yesterday. It’s about the residents of West Town raising $12,000 to care for a feral cat colony after their carektaker, a homeless man, froze to death.
Yeah, you read that right. A human froze to death because he didn’t have proper shelter. He was living in a makeshift shack in an alley. But don’t worry, his colony of feral cats will be looked after.
$12,000 could have put the guy up in a decent apartment, or helped him get a job (teach a man to fish), but instead it will now go to ensuring that his colony of feral cats get only the finest IAMS. Although, from the fundraiser page, it sounds like they have plenty of rats to eat.