Business People are the Unluckiest People

Have you seen that dumbass commercial where the losers in three-piece suits are running around with laser pointers, acting like they're having fun and being all creative? Then it turns out that all they are drawing are PIE CHARTS and LINE GRAPHS?

What sad, soulless people businessmen and businesswomen must be. To dream only of increasing numbers, of improving sales, of impressing richer, more important people, and of serving a faceless, heartless, emotionless boardroom is a fate so dreary that I cannot imagine it, and I've been committed to a mental hospital.

I wonder if there are any children out there who dream about raising percentages and building profits. I wonder if there are any six-year-olds who study corporate practices and say, "When I grow up, I'm going to steal my stockholders' assets!"

It takes all kinds to make a world, but it's always been problematic for me to comprehend the mind of someone who is thrilled by the man-made sciences. I'd rather delve into the dark places that cannot be sheared by the cold light of law.

Like the vagina. Who can fathom that soft and enticing cavern of death?

The Vaccine Takes Over

Man alive! I've been struggling to uninstall my Symantec Antivirus in order to switch to BitDefender, and the damn SAV just won't die! It keeps officiously replicating itself in order to maintain its duty of protecting my data. The damn thing is so stubborn that it's as bad as a virus itself!

Why are these programs so difficult to remove? Why does their influence seep into the tiniest cracks of my system, where I can't extricate it without some special scouring utility? Who thought that making anti-virus programs impossible to remove was a good idea? Hasn't anyone seen Roujin-Z? There's a point where technology can be a little too helpful. Hey Symantec, you really shouldn't assume that a user is going to stick with your software for all eternity, okay? That's just arrogant, and I won't stand for it. I am hereby banning all Symantec products from this home, and any that enter shall be incinerated in my fireplace!

Um...This Isn't Quite What I Expected

Travis here, everybody. I've been workin' at Mervyn's for a little while now, in the, um, "office," and I'm, uh, a little confused about the whole thing.

You see, when I applied for the office position, I thought that I might be doin' something, you know, like office work. Typing, maybe, or puttin' files away. Or maybe just peckin' keys on a computer. You know how department stores always have those really ol' DOS computers that no one can figure out? I thought I might be able to help people with that.

Well, the thing is, I'm not doing anything like that. Instead, they got me standing in this little alcove at the back of the store, helpin' folks who come back there with complaints or returns, and, um...I'm doing a lot of gift-wrapping. I've never been very good at wrappin' gifts, I usually like ta just slide my presents inta gift bags and call it a day, so I'm kinda struggling.

Then, uh...there's this other thing I have to do. I really don't understand it, but I have to do it every fifteen minutes. What I have to do is recite a page of words into the store's PA so all the customers can hear it. The words kinda go like this:

"Hello, Mervyn's shoppers! Today we are selling lingerie and baby shoes for 15% off! That's right, 15% off! And remember, if you use your Mervyn's card, you will receive an extra 5% off! What a deal! Have a great day, and thank you for shopping at Mervyn's!"

I have to recite this message every fifteen minutes. I'm, uh, not sure why the store doesn't just record this message and have it play over the PA automatically, but hey, I'm not the boss here.

The real boss, Shelly, likes to come around whenever I make this announcement and tell me that I'm not reading it loudly or enthusiastically enough. She says that I need to really yell this thing. Usually this sort of enthusiasm comes quite naturally to me, so I don't know what I'm doing wrong. I think I'm really tryin' hard here.

Well, I'm tryin' as hard as I can, anyway. It's kinda hard to get excited about things you really don't understand or believe in, but I must keep trying! My future is on the line! I, I...I'm not about to get fired again! Never!

I Eat Little Girls for Breakfast. No, Really.

The release of the upcoming Transformers movie has caught my interest, as it coincides with a plan for constructing giant robots that I recently hatched. I've been looking over the trailers, and...there's this scene that really bothers me.

It's the scene in which a Transformer emerges from a swimming pool, and...ehh...there's this little girl watching it. She just stands there, clutching a teddy bear, and she doesn't emote at all as this horrifying alien creature stomps past her.

What the hell is this?

This isn't a true performance. A real little girl would scamper under her bed if something that gigantic came clomping through her yard. And don't try to tell me that the little girl is so innocent that she doesn't recognize this creature as a threat. That's not innocence, that's stupidity. Human beings are animals, and whether they want to admit it or not, the primal instincts that kept them alive in prehistoric times are still present in their psyches. That means that when something that's ten times larger than you are comes barreling toward you, you're going to want to run away from it.

When a human encounters another creature, the first physical quality its brain recognizes is the creature's size. This is because size is the simplest way to judge whether that creature is capable of killing you. Color, shape, composition and focus are all secondary. That's just how the eyes and brain work. And here in this Transformers movie, we are expected to believe that this little girl sees an enormous monster crawl from her backyard and doesn't feel a thing. Dubious.

What is this reverence that Hollywood has for little girls anyway? Movies like The Ring, The Shining, Resident Evil, and Apocalypto (which I otherwise enjoyed), they all turn little girls into fetish objects, idols of great power and dread. I look at this and I burst out laughing. When was it decided that we're supposed to be afraid of little girls? And who decided it? I'm guessing it was a closet pedophile whose own self-hatred for fantasizing about his nieces materialized as a dark and confessional screenplay, and you rubes bought it.

It's time to climb out from the well, everyone. There's nothing scary or special about little girls. Like all young animals, they are puny, and they are weak. They are not to be feared. They are to be hunted and killed for sport, and then served whole with orange sauce.