Y a www XSive Xistence is UnYs

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Here’s why an online excessive existence is unwise:

Let’s say that we’re overly dependent on:

  • Streamed reportage to stay abreast of current events
  • Streamed music, movies and TV to amuse / entertain
  • Social networks to act as our digital photo repositories
  • E-commerce to purchase goods and peddle our wares
  • E-banking / E-bill paying to manage all of our finances

Now, let’s say that, someday, some devil-may-care electorate permits a cultist to rise to power; perhaps some narcissistic, fascistic, morbidly obese, bleach blonde, tousled hairdo’d dude with troweled on orange, clown make-up?

To keep it all real, what would stop that asshat from staging a coup d’état? Hey, it’s been tried before!

The top priority of any till-death-do-us-part type tyrant would be to sever all communication. And what could be easier than his throwing the Internet Kill Switch

The net effects of a net-less nation / world being:

  • Molded-over fake news; molded to flatter that Fascist bastard
  • A dispirited, disconsolate, alienated from loved ones populace
  • Consumers unable to secure life’s essential products/services
  • Entrepreneurs discovering their E-businesses shuttered tight
  • Frozen assets and the consequent inability to pay off creditors

There you have it folks. The unfed minds and bodies; unpaid mortgage/rent and energy bills would, quite literally, leave the huddled, miserable masses out in the cold.

In other words…

To abandon our in-print books, periodicals, newspapers, cardboard covered photo albums, in person theatrical performances / concerts, as well as brick and mortar businesses, could quite easily herald the demise of any robust, full-bodied healthy and happy society.

Exactly how far beyond that it could go, would depend, for the most part, upon the degree of the mercurial tyrant’s zealousness / doggedness.

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Live Like There’s No Tomorrow?

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The (so far) understatement of this (or, perhaps, any past) millennium, is how the pandemic has laid bare the fragility of economies, worldwide; so much so that we’re now witnessing corporations’ desperate attempts to fire up consumerism.

Case in point, are the home improvement / home furnishing industries’ advertising campaigns, which can only come across as tone deaf and off-putting; well, at least to those of us who are unemployed / underemployed or living on fixed incomes; in particular, to mortgagors and renters who are struggling to make their monthly payments.

I mean, why would anyone even remotely consider rushing off to the store to purchase… oh… say… a dining room table, today, when there might NEITHER be a roof over NOR food to serve upon that table, tomorrow?

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Fortune Cookie Blog (A$$hat$’ A$$et$)

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Dedicated to tightfisted, well-heeled mortals who’ve amassed
wealth, which they could not possibly piss away in 10 lifetimes:

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The wallowing in surplus assets, asshats’ daily,
waking lamentation: “Alas, so many solid gold
toilets, trinkets, trifles and toys; so little time.”

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Sign of the Times

I suppose, by now, we, who’ve been staggering around like extras in some zombie apocalypse film, have become a bit desensitized; have slightly adapted to our pandemic redefined world. Nonetheless, I really did get spooked out just last week. I wouldn’t even be blogging about this, now, were it not for my still being unable to shake that weird feeling.

I mean, this STILL is Earth. Yes? No? Maybe?

Setting the drama aside, IT all began when I needed to transact some mundane biz at the very same bank I’ve been frequenting since I was a four-year-young lad. Hey, what can I say? My impoverished, public school teacher folks’ lesson plans included instructing me to be thrifty.

Hell, even banks, of that bygone era, had encouraged that DIY, build a nest egg ethic, too, by paying out 4% interest on our savings accounts.

Granted, thru the ages, “my” bank has undergone numerous ownership changes as well several minor physical renovations, but, to me, I’m still seeing that same old brick and mortar institution thru my mind’s eye. In a sense, it feels as if I’m traveling back to that far more pleasant era; experiencing, anew, the flood of fond memories; e.g. the facial recognition; the personable bank personnel greeting me, by name (and vice versa), each time I set foot inside.

Of course, these days, there’s not much setting foot inside, anymore.

After all, even while masked / socially distanced, face to face, indoor transactions still (potentially) expose everyone to COVID-19. Beyond that, I’m sure that management doesn’t want customers spooking out their tellers; i.e. now that our being masked makes the same “fashion statement” that the bank robbers do.

Hmm, seeing how I’ve now digressed a bit too much, let’s time travel back to last week, again. Upon my arrival at the bank drive-thru destination, there IT was. The Sign. The Sign of the Times:

IT had been taped over the pneumatic tube system’s access port. IT read: “This branch office is temporarily closed.” They neither elaborated THE WHY this had happened nor THE HOW they were defining “temporarily”.

I actually began to worry. What would happen if “temporarily” actually meant forever AND my modest DIY nest egg had suddenly vanished, POOF, into thin air? Got gobbled up by some zombies?

Be it intentional or not, that sign’s evasiveness, did erode consumer confidence. It had been ill-timed, too, considering how, pandemic or not, retailers / e-tailers always depend on the holiday gift giving season to make their fourth quarter merry and bright.

More to the point, when our funds cease to be available on demand, even “temporarily”, this could compound the problem; i.e. result in a run on the banks.

At the very least, this episode certainly got me out of the shopping mood. From the drive thru exit I just drove home. And, for a fleeting moment, it felt as if the zombie apocalypse was starting to spill out from the big screen and into the real world.

Epilogue: Fortunately, this past Monday, my bank’s drive-thru lane reopened; finally allowing me to complete last week’s transaction.

As for the zombies? For the moment, they’ve been driven off.

For the moment.

Stay Publicly Masked!
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SNL’s Perfect Comic Coda

“A dad’s (Beck Bennett) Christmas surprise to his family (Timothée Chalamet, Heidi Gardner) isn’t received as he expected.”

Both Clip and set-up quip courtesy of the Saturday Night Live YouTube Channel
• Dec 12, 2020 • 130,174 views • Thumbs Up 8.8K • Thumbs Down 88

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Within a past post, I griped about the crassness of foaming at the mouth, dollar signs flashing in the eyeballs, mad, Madison Avenue admen.

To say the least:

For them to be marketing / huckstering high-end, bloated price-tagged vehicles during an economic downturn is the acme of insensitivity.

To say more:

“This IS 2020 after all! That godforsaken pandemic has been, literally, snuffing out lives and livelihoods. Average Janes and Joes are not making their rent / mortgage payments to keep roofs over their kitchen tables; are having a tough time paying their utility bills to “fire up” the requisite cook tops / ovens to prepare meals for said tables; are purchasing cheapo grub to toss into their cookware that’s being heated up by said contrivances.” [Read Full Post Here]

From my blog: “Do Re Me Fa So La Ti Do?” • Nov 25, 2020 (9:33 am) • Likes 7

To say the most:

Watch the clip, above, or over @YouTube! SNL’s creative geniuses say it all!

Mega Thanks to SNL! Somebody, who can reach a vastly larger audience than I can, needed to unmask the tone deafness of that mad, Madison Avenue admen mentality.

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Cans and Cannots

As I type this, I’m bundled up in a down parka, which tops off an entire multilayered, winter outfit. My exposed fingers are icy cold due to ambient indoor temperatures that can dip as low as 13°C / 55°F. To convert that numbing number into something more tangible, my shelved, surplus 24-pack of Coca Cola™ is chilling out nearly as much as the cans already inside my refrigerator.

So, why would anyone ever opt to “live” like that?

  • To (hopefully) coax at least one more heating season out of a natural gas fired furnace; a model so ancient (manufactured in 1959) that replacement parts are no longer available. In fact, one repairman’s recent miracle involved an ingenious retrofit (btw, he could’ve wowed a bevy / galaxy of Star Trek’s Chief Engineers; namely, Montgomery Scott, Geordi La Forge, Miles O’Brien, B’Elanna Torres, Trip Tucker, et al).
  • My concerted effort to maintain a respectable checking account balance; to delay becoming a homeless man, who’ll wind up freezing to death on some dead of winter, inhospitable, Michigan night.

There’s a side effect to such frugality, too. The outward appearance of financial stability; so much so that, for the past six weeks, a robocaller has been trying to sucker me in with the following spiel; words to the effect:

Your history of making timely, utility payments now qualifies you for a 20 to 25% reduction on all future energy bills. To speak to a rep, press “1”.

Here’s why I won’t be pressing onward:

  • These telemarketers called, even tho my phone number is listed on the National Do Not Call Registry.
  • I make it a rule to never transact business over the phone with suspected scammers.
  • They’ve been inordinately (perhaps illegally) nosing around my sensitive, purportedly private data.
  • Godforsaken corporations rarely, if ever, are renown for magnanimity.

Such concerns do beg at least two questions, too.

  • Seeing how consumers would never object to lower energy bills, why can’t these alleged benefactors simply pass along the savings; i.e., minus all of the jumping thru the hoops hoopla?
  • Why do they perpetuate the ass backwards notion of offering that 20 – 25% reward to people who CAN pay their bills?

After all, it’s the folks who CANNOT, who need such help the most.

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Do Re Me Fa So La Ti Do?

Let’s pay a call on, CORRECTION, call out a high end auto manufacturer’s recently aired and streamed commercial.

Now, don’t ask me to name this big biz entity by name. The tone deafness of the ad, itself, proved to be such an enormous distraction, I cannot recall, for the life of me, the specific corporation.

And, even if I could remember, I’d never want to afford this insensitive entity any additional publicity; not even via my barely noticeable website.

That said, let’s get down to the nuts and bolts of the ad:

Young, money grubby hubby ushers wifey out to the driveway (presumably on Christmas morn), to present to her two… mind you… TWO, luxury, showroom-new, gas guzzler SUVs; one red, the other blue. She promptly goes gaga, and assuming the blue one is hers, instantly takes ownership. Meanwhile, he glumly deadpans the ad’s allegedly humorous punch line; (words to the effect) Oh well, I suppose I could learn to love the red one.

Aside: Let’s hope he’s not scarred for life; so much so that it’d take decades of psychoanalysis for him to get over his “disappointment”.

The tone deafness of this scenario is toxic.

First of all, HIS and HERS vehicles? At $60,000 a pop? REALLY? WTF kind of relationship do these stick-figure characters have, anyway? I mean, they cannot get along well enough to carpool it to work for an hour or two each day? Of course, that’d be assuming they’d ever do a lick of work that’d go beyond managing their fat, Fat, FAT stock portfolios; oh, say, by phoning up their stockbroker(s) for speedy, greedy chats?

Far be it from me to begrudge “successful” people their materialism-centric “lives”; their getting off on such dubious “pleasure”; but my gawd, let’s keep everything down to earth!

This IS 2020 after all! That godforsaken pandemic has been, literally, snuffing out lives and livelihoods. Average Janes and Joes are not making their rent / mortgage payments to keep roofs over their kitchen tables; are having a tough time paying their utility bills to “fire up” the requisite cook tops / ovens to prepare meals for said tables; are purchasing cheapo grub to toss into their cookware that’s being heated up by said contrivances.

To bottom line real life for the edification of this avarice driven, tone deaf auto manufacturer and his like-minded, mindless Madison Avenue admen:

When the underemployed and out of work, working class don’t earn enough to readily pay their bills, their drab soundtrack of life does not contain the notes Do Re Me Fa So La Ti Do.

But then, again, you don’t sing Do Re Me Fa So La Ti Do, either.

Were you to ever, truthfully, set that above-mentioned, tone deaf ad to music; it’s dreary “lyrics” would go:

Dough Dough Dough Dough Dough Dough Dough Dough

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What Takes Precedence

Ever since the raging pandemic tanked out our lives, livelihoods and tomorrows, very few of us have been in a spend like there’s no tomorrow mood. Consequently, our belt tightening efforts must prioritize securing adequate sustenance and livable accommodations.

Yet, all too often, YouTube’s advertising content fails to conform to our pandemic altered, stripped down to the bare essentials, state of consumerism.

I mean, we, the sensible people, are not about to buy into that platform’s vast array of products which, by and large, involve [1] unregulated, unsafe potions / shoddy wares that no one would dare sell at the retail level and [2] quasi-legal, get rich quick schemes. Neither would we want to deal with service providers who, were they to set up shop in the real world, would be rapidly run out of town.

And, so long as I’m already airing my grievances, why are such snake oil salesmen so effing long-winded? I mean, if it takes a guy an hour to dupe the gullible, maybe he isn’t even good at being a crook? Of course, such shortcomings would be a good thing.

Let’s look at this, conversely, too. YouTubers, who post content that’s vital to surviving the pandemic, should not have their messages preceded / interrupted / followed by advertising at all. Ditto that for content addressing discrimination and loss of liberty issues.

I must also pause to make my gripes more America-specific.

If I see even one more godforsaken campaign ad dripping with White House B.S. to whitewash that so-called leader’s grotesque white supremacism and/or promote his concerted efforts to incite urban wars and/or to downplay his DIY pandemic, I do believe my head will explode.

Returning to the basic fiscal matters:

While it’s vital to salvage what little may be left of each and every nation’s economy, what takes precedence is rescuing what’s left of humanity. Once that becomes a done deal, everything else should fall back into place.

Stay Publicly Masked!
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Anyone in a shop-till-you-drop mood?

 

One would think that Confederate Prez Donny, who fancies himself the stable genius and consummate businessman, would be able to grasp onto the economic fundamentals… namely…

RULE #1: Unemployed, destitute grown-ups will not be in a let’s-shop-till-we-drop mood when [1] worried sick that COVID-19 will come home to roost [2] paying for the roof overhead and food on the table proves difficult, AND [3] the Fascist overthrow of America may already be a fait accompli.

That stark deficit of consumer confidence should come as no shocker to that science denier / autocrat who’s totally to blame for COVID-19’s physical and fiscal devastation and the dismantling of democracy.

Obviously, I cannot speak for everyone, but, under such grim circumstances, aside from paying for life’s bare essentials, the only way I’d ever go on a shopping spree is to [1] prepare for the worst by prearranging my own funeral and [2] hope for the best by booking a one way flight to the nearest progressive nation with outstretched, welcoming arms.

 

Stay Safe at Home! Stay Publicly Masked! Stay Healthy!

 

 

 

 

 

 

Fortune Cookie Blog (Pachyderms & Pimples)

 

It is tough to put much stock in the Stock Market, when skittish speculators’
cockamamie investment schemes (based upon weird events) can cause it to
CLIMB if pink elephants trumpet in a drunk-on-power, crowned head’s head;
CRASH if carbuncles crop up/erupt on a corpulent, crowned head’s caboose!

 

Stay Safe… Stay Home… Stay Healthy!