Pizza, universal remotes and clever marketing

This here is a recession mother fuckers. Seems it’s cut into my blogging and then I say “how the fuck did that happen?” seeing as I don’t get paid for this shit. I should though, fuck, that’s it. It’s now $0.25 to read my blog. Nah, fuck it, you can read it for free but in return, keep reading.

Lots of people have hundreds if not thousands of electronics all over their houses. And with these lovely gadgets always comes an even more outlandish (sometimes complicated) remote control. And then these fucking remotes end up piling all over and we lose them and we break them. They’re just a whole other thing all together. If you lose your remote, it’s worse then you’re electronics being broken. You can rarely use that shit if you lose one, and come on. You lose them, we all know. Just admit it and move on. So what’s the solution? Universal remotes of course. Or so some would think. Now though these damn universal remotes are getting so big and frustrating, we’d rather use our own hands to change a tv station. JVC, Sony, RCA, whoever makes these things, STOP mother fuckers! They don’t help, and then when we lose the universal remote, all the shit is useless. What do you expect us to do, walk to the DVD player and hit play? Fuck that. Just check out what I mean by how big they’re getting:



Pizza, the diet for the lazy, unemployed fat slobs of America. Now pizza is good, in rational quantities. I’m thinking of ordering food the other night and think “hmm all that’s open is pizza”. Shit, I don’t want pizza. I’ve already had it once that week. So instead I go for a panzerotti. No people, it’s different then pizza. It’s like a pizza sandwich. But that’s where the problem began. They tell me it’s a minimum two panzerotti order for delivery. Cool, fine. I was hungry and I wasn’t just ordering for me. I’m starving as it is, so as soon as that pizza guy got there, I was all into shoving that panzerotti down.  I take one bite, and the damn thing tastes like a warm loaf of bread. I taste no meat, I taste no cheese, I taste no sauce. All I taste is warm bread. And to top it off, it had the texture of bread. You’d think a panzerotti would have a texture like maybe a pizza pop or at least toast. Not this fucking thing. I don’t know how I managed to scarf half of that down. It was disgusting. And pizza pizza, fuck you.


Driving down the road the other day I see Pizza Hut. This was after my horrible experience with the Pizza Pizza panzerotti, so I’m not even thinking of going for anything they wanna sell me. Though it does get me thinking “I wonder how good their panzerottis taste?”. I didn’t feel like going and trying, so I wait til the time is right to test it. I see something funny on the outside sign though. Was it a funny word someone misspelled? Was it something someone had changed so it said something dirty? No, not even close. Plastered on the sign is “RIP Michael and Farrah”. Are you serious? Do you expect us to believe that Michael Jackson and Farrah Fawcett were both customers of this Pizza Hut establishment? Not even one of those fuckers were Pizza Hut. You ain’t fooling no one. And it’s been like a month, don’t you think corporate would rather you put up how delicious your pastas are and to order them then that? By the way, I fully endorse the Pizza Hut pastas. But again, fuck you Pizza Pizza panzerottis.


So what’s next? A Wal-Mart story of course. I’m full of these things. They’re like gremlins. If you splash water on anyone in your vacinity, one of those people is bound to have a story about Wal-Mart. And one of those people if not more then one is bound to shove their foot up your ass. So I’m walking through Wal-Mart (pretty sure I was wasting time doing something) and I see this:


A little beaver. I’m sure all the old grannies are dying to have one right away, and I’m sure all the house moms can’t wait to get one. Marketing ploys these days aim at everyone self-esteem and sex. Have you seen the ad for the Slap Chop? He flat out calls Americans fat pigs. Oh how I miss Billy Mayes. It’s all over the place too, like here in this Taco Bell food ad:


The Volcano Box, sure. If you want it to sound like your girlfriends pussy has some mangled, nasty STD.


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