_____________________________________________________________

Tresckow - Adel- Roode
-Ren-


Wednesday, April 28, 2010

5 Things Society Would Give Up If It Was Serious About The Environment

By Adel

Far be it from me to associate myself with Roode or any of his articles, but I felt the need to expand upon his Earth Day piece (of shit). It got me thinking. No, not thinking about how Roode has kept out of prison for this long. Not this time. I started thinking about how, exactly, would society have to tackle environmental issues in a way that matters. Then it occurred to me, most of the big changers would never be done, because society is only willing to go so far. Sure, some will toss a plastic bottle into a recycling bin, but you bet your ass someone will drive a block to buy their lottery tickets and cigarettes instead of undertaking such an arduous journey of walking.

Sidewalks? Are we savages?

So, what would society REALLY have to do without in order to actually make an impact on the environment? Check that; a POSITIVE impact. My list of ways to make a negative impact is pretty much never-ending.

Setting a river on fire is way #23, in case you were curious Ohio.

So what would the Earth's population have to sacrifice to make a dent? I have a few ideas. But, we all know none of them are ever going to happen....


1. Make Country Leaders Give Up Personal Jets
Right out the gate I'm taking a swing at politicians. Well, sort of. I'm not talking about government policies. I'm talking about the non-stop, gas guzzling trips made by most of the world's leaders.

General air travel has skyrocketed after that pesky Luftwaffe was grounded in '45. The "lower prices" and bigger airline fleets made air travel a practical reality. Until the early 21st century, that is. Now it's nothing more than nickle and diming, TSA strip searches, and big shiny targets for terrorist groups.

Our world leaders need to be able to travel at a moment's notice. They have to tour earthquake areas to acknowledge that, yes, buildings have been reduced to rubble. They need to attend state funerals for people they never knew for PR and, during election season, be able to drop themselves in whatever state they need to whore themselves in for electoral votes. But, isn't this all outdated and nonessential? Let me answer that for you. Yes. Yes, it is.

This is the modern age, you silly pillack. Everything's virtual or digital... and other things that end in "al" I imagine. First, invest in a Skype or WebEx account. You don't have to physically be everywhere to give your partisan speeches. Pipe that digital goodness into the Brazilian government's multi-purpose room. You don't see Bin Laden jetting all over the West to distribute his messages of death and infidel fueled rage. It's all recorded, baby, and posted online. Yes, he's got a blog and their whole operation is hiding in a cave!

Second, downgrade the bollocks out of the fancy pants transportation. Air Force One, do you really have to be the size of a jumbo jet? I'm thinking more of a Cessna or a Piper Cub. What? It's just as secure as a gigantic jet aircraft. In fact, it's even better. Everyone knows that small planes are infinitely harder to hit and easier to land when damaged (The Big Bopper thing was a fluke). Cram the president's entourage into one of those things with a WiFi ready system and, Bob's your uncle!

Trust me. I will look a lot better with the Presidential seal on it. Maybe a little less yellow.

2. Stop driving.
We've all heard the non-stop ramblings about how the individual driver is really the cause of much of the Earth's pollution. So? Billions of people drive every day. China and India have just started the joys of modern auto travel (modern for 1955, that is). Trust me, they're not going to stop anytime soon. If anything, nations that are just entering their automobile phase are going to rape and poison the Earth in a fraction of the time it took North American and Europe. It's going to get a lot worse before it gets better. Let's face it, if China can't be bothered to NOT add antifreeze to cough syrup, what makes you think they give a shit about emissions testing?

Mmm. Breathe in that fresh city air, Beijing.

Are you really serious about saving the environment, society? Then stop driving, unless your vehicle is hydrogen powered. What about the Toyota Prius? It's rubbish. If the only alternative to good old fashioned fossil fuel burning automobiles is a car with a glorified D cell battery, it's best not to drive at all.

Alright, fine. I suppose some vehicles could be allowed. Service vehicles like, trash trucks, UPS vans, and pizza delivery wagons. But, in the spirit of maximizing efficiency and radically lowering emissions, they all have to be the same vehicle. Just think of all that o-zone we would save with our trash-UPS-pizza delivery trucks!

In some cases, the pizza may actually taste better.

What about the children? Surely, they need transportation to school. Why bother? Each generation is getting progressively dumber. Society might as well admit defeat now and end schooling of any kind. Not only would it save billions of dollars, it would finally usher in the downfall of society we've all been waiting for.

3. Stop using electricity. Everywhere.
You read that right. I'm not talking about simply turning the lights out when you leave a room. I'm talking about turning the lights out forever. Do you know how much fossil fuel is used to generate electricity to run our televisions and industrial strength A/C wall outlet powered marital aids? Neither do I, but I'm guessing it's a lot.

Imagine the money your average Joe would save by jumping off the grid. Citizens of nations everywhere would save thousands of dollars a year without electricity bills! Alright, so some of that money would have to be invested in glow sticks. I suppose most households would have to find an alternative heat source, too. Our ancestors managed without electricity. They used fire for warmth, light, and cooking. What's that? Burning wood is still polluting the environment? For fuck's sake! You can't have your cake and eat it too.

Not that you're really going to be able to make too many cakes in our new electricity free world.

Kicking electricity to the curb may even enrich our society. Without electricity there will be no computers. Without computers there will be no blogs. It will no longer be easy for any half-witted dipshit to vomit typed out retardation for the masses. It will be like the old days, the sheer expense and effort weeding out the posers. We'll have to go back to reading actual books and newspapers. I hear you, an increase in newspapers means the death of more trees, yadda, yadda, yadda. Well, society is going to need to wipe their asses with something. Newspaper is one hell of a multi-tasker! Just be sure to read BEFORE you wipe.

Wait until you read and wipe with the first print edition of The Fuse Was Too Cold.

4. Wipe out big chain stores.
Nothing embodies the crushing of the very soul of world commerce like the Wal-Mart or Target empire. Mom and Pop stores went the way of the Utah Raptor and Hammer pants. At first, we all cheered. Finally, there is somewhere to go for our economy sized enema needs! Want to buy a pair of boxers and a head of lettuce? At the same store? Well, my friend, you can do that. Never again will you have to make multiple trips to buy condoms, baby lotion, and duct tape.

Well, I guess you're not really serious about healing the planet, then. These gigantic chain and bulk stores are generating enough waste and energy consumption to make Mr. Burns blush. According to this article, states have accused Wal-Mart stores of polluting their water with shitty construction practices. Do you know how much electricity retailers need to refrigerate food, to power lights, and operate the exit theft alarms that go off for no apparent reason? Our research tells us it's a shit load [citation needed]. Even when the store is closed the energy consumption keeps trucking on. Do we really want to hurt our environment for a cheap 12 pack of socks and a case of Dr. Thunder? Well, I'm fine with it, but that's just me.

What WOULDN'T we do for a 12 pack of Dr. Thunder?

Bring back the Mom and Pops. Not only will that diversify the market, it just might bring scurvy back in style. Quick, it's the middle of winter in northern Saskatchewan and you want an orange. Tough luck. I guess you should just get used to those bleeding gums. Mom and Pop stores, although romantic and quaint, probably won't be able to carry anything out of season. Your average corner shop may never be able to buy and stock anything outside of an affordable geographical radius. If a store owner was lucky enough to get a hold of a crate of Spanish clementines, they would have to jack up the price to, about, $10 an orange. Scurvy is cheaper.

5. No more concerts, rallies, or protests.
How many of us have a brilliant sexual, drug, or cop beating concert story to tell? Maybe at that Screaming Trees concert the midget next to you projectile vomited so hard at he actually propelled himself through the air. Or what about that rally/protest for something or other you'll remember for the rest of your life? There's nothing like showing up somewhere, en mass, to support/protest the troops/president/lactose/soap.... Seriously, there are rallies for anything these days. You don't really have to know what you're protesting about.


Be warned, Betty White.

It's nice to know that people out there are willing to express their opinions and use their right to free speech while punching the environment in the face. The millions of people around the world that go on pilgrimages to see Winger live are also killing the environment. Well, in addition to murdering musical taste.

If you're not part of the solution, you're part of the problem, Stewart.

Think about it. For your average concert you'll have one bus for the band, 10 or more trucks for the equipment, one bus for the whores, a catering entourage, a couple more buses for the crew, and a huge power supply for all those trippy lights. Take all of that and add the thousands upon thousands of cars driven by the attendees. Well, why not just set a baby deer on fire?

Go on. Do it. Get the lighter fluid and have at it you monster.

Protests pretty much cover the same ground. Perhaps, the pinnacle of contradiction is when thousands of people, rock bands, and politicians blow a million tons of fuel to attend some sort of global save the world rally. The environment would be better off if everyone stayed home and live streamed Bono's pretentious egotism on YouTube.

Little known fact: Bono's ego and sense of self-satisfaction can power a city the size of London.



Wednesday, April 21, 2010

Hey, Earth Day: Being Aware Isn't As Good As Giving A Shit

By Roode

Earth Day. This is the day I'm supposed to prance around wearing shorts made of hemp and make out with trees. Right? No? No, wait, that's Arbor Day.

We must appreciate trees. Mankind needs something to slash and burn.

According to the soon to be sentient Wikipedia (laugh, but it will be an event of SkyNet proportions) Earth Day is:

... a day designed to inspire awareness and appreciation for the Earth's environment.

Frankly, I'm not sure how we couldn't be "aware" of the Earth's environment. It slaps us in the face every minute of every day. Driving to the store: environment. Cutting the grass: environment. Smoking a cigar while burning a pile of bald tires: environment.

What? Is burning used tires a bad thing now?

The other part of the definition is "appreciation." That's not going to happen. Sorry, but appreciating something more than internet porn and schlitz with today's society is too tall an order. The most recent generation doesn't appreciate the gut-wrenching bullshit previous generations went through to ensure they can act like pretentious emo pricks. Little things like abolish slavery, win World War II, the Civil Rights movement, and the Industrial Revolution. We're in the era of "Gimme Now, Gimme Fast." For shit's sake, kids, today, don't know where the goddamn milk they put in the mochiatos comes from!

More mysterious than Bigfoot and less exciting than Game Stop.

Hey, I'm AWARE that grain alcohol will make me go blind. I just don't CARE. Awareness, from cancer to butt crack exposure, doesn't accomplish shit. Great! Now people are aware that the environment exists and taking a dump in someone's well water is a bad thing. So, what now? Being "aware" is more useless than having Ellen Degenerous judging on American Idol.

Seriously, was Gallagher busy?

The trick is to get people to give a shit. I'm not talking about giving a shit on the same level as Ed Begley Jr. or the environmental equivalent to the Irish Republican Army, Greenpeace. There is a line between giving a shit and being an outright annoying and insufferable asshole. Especially when it seems like the biggest advocates are full of crap. We're looking at you, Al Gore.

Sure, this guy is AWARE he's taking a nap on the train tracks. He just doesn't care.

The preachers of green doctrine want us to believe that the individual has the power to reverse global warming, heal the rain forests, and re-freeze glaciers.

This poor bastard got a head full of that doctrine. It got him an indescribable tank tread crushing .

Get ready, here it comes; I'm going to rain all over your environmental circle jerk parade.

Seek shelter, because this mother fucker is gonna pour!

I recycle, because my wife is annoyingly saintly. As a single man, it was perfectly acceptable for me to use my apartment as a land fill/future archaeological artifact pit. Most people won't recycle unless they legally have to. In areas without mandatory recycling, people seem pretty content mixing their plastics with used condoms and broken dreams.

Above: Your plans to be a doctor and
Pabst Blue Ribbon fueled disappointment.


Take a look at your local airport next time you're being pissed on by an airline. Most will have recycling bins next to regular old trash cans. People chuck their plastic bottles and paper in the trash can. The recycling bin is literally 1 inch away, but they STILL dump their recyclable shit in the refuse. Why? Because mankind is a species of lazy and thoughtless fuckers. Alright, MOST of mankind is a species of lazy and thoughtless fuckers. A healthy portion is just plain rock stupid. Even with step by step instructions, colorful maps, and cheerful muppets some people are still confused about the whole brown glass vs. clear glass deal.

Even Oscar the Grouch is feeling pressure from the green movement and he's pissed about it.

You can completely green-out, reusing bacon fat and building a Rube Goldberg machine to separate your plastics from your used toilet paper. There is absolutely no guarantee that smelly mess you so painstakingly separated will make it to a recycling plant, let alone not be exported to a third world country with a healthy helping of medical waste. Take this epic bullshit play a couple of British recycling contractors [allegedly] pulled on Brazil. Worldwide Biorecyclables Ltd and UK Multiplas Ltd are accused of being liberal with their definition of plastic recyclables. In an alleged international act of douche-baggery, the companies threw in bags of blood and dirty syringes to round out the shipment. Hey, a little bit of medical waste never hurt anyone.

Oh, yeah.

Back to the "awareness" vs. "giving a shit" issue. There is no contest. "giving a shit" is the only savior the green movement has. Look at this way: the U.S. was quite "aware" that the Japanese bombed the shit out of Pearl Harbor. If this country stopped with "awareness" Hawaii would belong to the Japanese today. Standing around the shipyard pointing as you mumble to your adjutant, "I am aware the Arizona is sinking and there are tons of men trapped," won't really help the situation "Why, yes commander, we are aware Japan has kicked us in the nuts and declared war." See how being "aware" absolutely didn't do a fucking thing? You know what did? "Giving a shit."

"I'm aware that another ship full of sailors over there has just sunk."

"Giving a shit" isn't content to point its fingers around and count the damage. "Giving a shit" wants, no, DEMANDS we get off our asses and do something about it. While that "awareness" pussy is sulking on the dock, aware that another cruiser is on fire and sinking faster than a fat chick from a Tru TV reality show in a tub of fudge,"give a shit" said, "Mother fucker! Find out what's going on, who did it, and their home addresses. Let all of us work as one to a common goal. We will be strong in out unity and resolve!"

See what giving a shit gets you? Flaming hot, radioactive JUSTICE!

No, man. "Give a shit" needs more. Don't get me wrong. To "give a shit" you have to, first, become aware of the situation. Then you move the fuck on to constructive action. If your first urge after absorbing the Earth Day doctrine is to show up with a bunch of sandal wearing, hairy, slacked jawed, wannabe hippies toting signs, then my friend, you are part of the problem. FWTC can't help you.

No, sir. We wash our hands of it.

Continuously bitching while holding signs and throwing environmentally friendly red paint on people to raise their awareness of animal abuse and shouting "You're murders!" isn't a way to make friends. It's no where near the way to garner support for your cause. Especially if it's during a thousand man BIKER RALLY. You, my hippie friend, will not accomplish jack. I mean other than getting your asses handed to you over and over again or being duct taped to the bitch seat of a biker's ride, because his old lady couldn't make it and you're "close enough." Ask this group what it got them.

People are aware this dude is taped to that tree. They just don't give a shit.

Instead of regrouping and examining where they went wrong in their lives, the animal rights group became whinier and more self-righteous. In addition to the above treats, the soldiers in the "war against leather" found themselves being used as urinals, duct taped in fast food dumpsters, and encased in a silvery cocoon of duct tape in a tree (They truly are the Renaissance Men of duct tape). No, this is not a segment of Sons of Anarchy. If it were, it would be one of the coolest scenes ever! Shit! I just stopped writing to give myself a high five out of the sheer awesomeness a scene like that would bring. This shit went on for real this past January at the Johnstown, PA biker rally.

Pictured: Motorcycle enthusiasts that do not take being hit with red paint well.

"But, Roode" I can hear some unwashed, meatless diet following, red paint spewing asstard say. "How can you say the individual doesn't matter? Some of the greatest events in history have happened, because of 1 person."

First of all, shut the fuck up. I don't even know you, but I can smell you over the interwebs. For the rest of you, NO. Individuals haven't made a shit sack worth of difference. On their own, that is. Caesar didn't change ancient Rome by himself. He had an ass kicking, ball busting army to help. Harriet Beecher Stowe may have written one hell of a tome about the injustice of slavery, but it was a shitload of individuals that fought against it and, finally, a government that had to outlaw it. Lincoln may have wanted to outlaw slavery in the second half of your Civil War, but if he was the only one, his ass wouldn't have been elected in the first place.

"What? I'm the ONLY one that thinks slavery is a bad idea? Fine, let's just go back to killing Indians."

Not only does one person have to give a shit, tens of thousands have to. Finally, enough people will give a shit that the government HAS to take notice. This is the tricky part. The government can be "aware" of things until the sun turns into a bran muffin. They need to give a shit too or at least pretend for re-election. Or, in the case of the American Revolutionary War, get tossed out and replaced by a government that makes "give a shit" their motto (well, for 80 years or so). See? Giving a shit is a lot harder than it looks.

Let's face it, giving a shit requires too much energy for most people. It's a lot easier to bitch and moan while holding a protest line in front of a Carl's Jr. You just stand there, chant ridiculous rhyming tag lines, and endure the police beatings that follow. So, you protesters and activists can go back to your display of awareness and hand holding. Maybe I'm wrong about all of this. I'm sure the Earth will be just fine for future generations with awareness, alone.

Oh.

Sincerely,
Roode

Tuesday, April 06, 2010

A Girl, Her Whisky, and an Irish Holiday

By Ren

I know; Saint Patrick's Day was a few weeks ago. It's way to late to publish an article about it or any shenanigans that took place. I'm lazy. It's time to move onto another topic. Fucker, I just sobered up enough NOW to write about it!

Don't ask.

So, for you neigh sayers, piss off. I'll write about what I want, when I want! I'll write an article about mother fucking Christmas of 2000 if I want. You're going to sit there and like it.

A real Irish chick/dude has to prepare for the drunken joy that is Saint Patrick's Day. Part of this prep was to take Wednesday through Friday off work. Look, I know my genes. In the past I've tried to contain Irish alcoholic's day to the Wednesday it fell on. But, after considerable research and tests (see: binge drinking), I came to the conclusion that Saint Patrick's Day is more of a multi-day holiday like Hanukkah or Wrestlemania.

Our tree is more kick ass, though.

We've got the menorah covered, too.

So, as an Irish girl whose father is right off the potato boat, I've learned just to accept the truth. I'm going to get completely asstarded drunk, so I might as well take the work days off and get paid for it. Shit, it worked for Ted Kennedy (too soon?). I said "goodbye" to my co-workers, not knowing if I would ever see them again. By this time, tomorrow, I may be in another RCMP holding cell. At the very least, I knew I was going to end up passed out on a pool table.

Deceptively comfortable.

Any good alcoholic gets her recovery kit ready for the aftermath. Surely, you have one. No? Amateur. Alright, I'll share my ancient Gaelic secret for a proper recovery kit. Warning: there can be NO substitutions.

  • 10 bottles of Gatorade
  • 1 Pair ear plugs
  • 1 box of Saltines
  • 20 pre-penned letters of apology
  • 3 extra dark sunglasses (to be worn at the same time)
  • Passport
  • 2 bottles of Kilbeggan Irish whisky
  • 1 bottle of Excedrin Migraine (to be taken with the whisky- 2 pills and 3 shots every 2 hours)
  • 1 twenty gallon bucket from Home Depot
  • 1 Box of adult diapers
  • Rosary
  • 1 Whisky Makes Me Frisky tee shirt
Having made sure my recovery kit was packed and stowed in a safe location (behind the toilet in the second floor bathroom) I was ready. Ready for what? Damn if I know. I still don't really know what the fuck happened for those three days. Whatever happened, it was enough to make me swear off drinking Sunday. That's saying a lot for someone who comes from a nation where bar brawls and domestic abuse are the national past times.

Above: Our nation's Olympics.

I had to play a little bit of Nancy Drew to piece together whatever the fuck happened from Saint Paddy's day until when I woke up under my bed with ice skates on my feet Saturday. My recovery kit was emptied out, including the box of adult diapers. That was odd, considering I wasn't wearing any this time and they were no where to be seen in my room. I argued with gravity for about twenty minutes. Gravity can eat shit. It's always trying to keep the Irish down. Asshole physics.

When I learned to walk again, I peeked out the window to see if there were patrol cars out front. Nope, not this time. There were no signs of a riot. There wasn't even one person passed out on the lawn. I guess the biggest surprise was that I wasn't passed out on the lawn. Again.

You can usually see my feet sticking out the bush, here.

I cracked the door and peered into the hallway. No wreckage there either. All the same, I wanted to avoid human contact until I found out if I owed money or had a bench warrant waiting for me. Fuck! Stairs! The one kink in my otherwise perfect plan. I would have held the railing with both hands if I wasn't holding a half filled bottle of whisky in one of them. So, being the innovative little girl I am, I just slid down the steps on my ass. Here's a bit of advice: don't slide down the steps when you have a hangover/still drunk. Halfway down I ended up turned around and crashed on the landing head first.

You win, again, staircase!

I laid there waiting for someone to rush over and help... or yell at me. Whatever. One of the dogs meandered over and sniffed my face. He was judging me. I know it. Fucking dogs. Ooooooooooo! They have paw-eye coordination and can walk in a straight line! Big deal. Show offs. I could walk just fine if I had four legs too. As it stands, crawling on all fours isn't quite the same thing. That's how rumors get started.

Hot rumors...

As the dog walked away I say where one of my adult diapers went. I guess I thought it was a good idea at some point to put one on the dog. HA! I'm hilarious! I could safely assume that four diapers were accounted for; two dogs and two cats in the house. I'd never stop with diapering just one animal. That would be half assed.

Just like this, except the dogs in our house are 90 pound Alaskan Malamutes. How the hell did I manage to do that?

I decided to concentrate and do my damnedest to piece together the jumbled jigsaw puzzle that was the last 72 hours. Based on the evidence and the strange fact that I had bird seed in my pocket, I came up with this cobbled together time line.

Wednesday, March 17- Noon
Pre-programmed local area blood banks and hospitals into my GPS. Ate a nutritious Saint Patrick's day lunch of black bread and Guinness. Either that or a severely moldy slice of bread I found behind the toaster... and Guinness.

Wednesday, March 17- 5 PM
Polished off a case of Smithwhick's and bummed a ride to the pub. Now, from what I can put together, I either had a friend pick me up or I hitched a ride with a clown. I did find a rubber nose down my pants at one point.

Seems trustworthy enough.

Wednesday, March 17- 11 PM
Sang some Irish karaoke, even though the bar didn't have a karaoke machine and I was, apparently, singing into an empty toilet paper tube.

May explain the shitty sound check.

Thursday, March 18- 10 AM
Have the feeling I was in Yakima for some odd reason. I don't have much to base this on other than the appearance of a brand new "I Heart Yakima" t-shirt that I was suddenly wearing.

I really fucking don't. God, how I fucking hate Yakima.

Thursday, March 18- 1 PM
Something to do with a zoo...

Thursday, March 18- 4 PM
Had a quickie wedding with the bottle of whisky I was drinking.

Thursday, March 18- 4:15 PM
Divorced said bottle of whisky due to irreconcilable differences.

Son-of-a-bitch ran out on me. Literally.

Thursday, March 18- 8 PM
Signed up for the Peace Corps.

Thursday, March 18- 9:23 PM
Realized I didn't sign up for the Peace Corps. It was a waiver for a wet t-shirt competition.

Thursday, March 18- 11 PM
Inexplicably was wearing a soaking wet "I Heart Yakima" t-shirt.

Friday, March 19
A complete fucking blank.

OK, so truthfully, I really don't have a shit-faced leprechaun's clue as to what really happened. Oh, I've heard rumors. I'm happy to accept that this is one of those Unsolved Mysteries type deal. Well, without the convenience of Robert Stack narrating.

Join me in solving the mystery of Ren's missing bra."






Thursday, March 11, 2010

4 Ways to Tell If the Company That Canned you Is Full of Shit

The FWTC, again, enlisted the "talents" of a guest writer. Translation: None of the regular columnists felt like writing anything this week. So, instead of re-posting an old article in the spirit of NBC's old "if you haven't seen it, it's new to you" mentality we threw the ball into someone else's court. Cue, PT. If it sucks, blame Ren. That's our policy around here.- Tresckow
***********************************************************
By PT

Tons of people in this country are having a tough time with employment. On one end of the spectrum you have poor bastards stuck in a shitty job that's rotting them from the inside out. Even though their employer is crushing their souls a little more everyday, they don't dare quit. The simple fact is no one knows if they can land another job that doesn't floss its teeth with the spirits of their employees (at least not as much). At the opposite end of the spectrum are another crop of poor bastards fired from their jobs because, The Man is looking for ways to cut expenses. These poor sommabitches join the legions of unemployed in an economy that's way past circling the drain.

If you look closely, you can see Chrysler in there.

It's one thing if you were axed for refusing to wear pants at the office. No one wants to wear pants, but you just have to suck it up. However, it's quite different if you're tossed to the curb like yesterday's diaper for no fault of your own. You're given the corporate "it's not you, it's me" speech. Tears may be shed, chairs thrown, and cars driven through walls, but what can be done? There's no money and the company has to cut their expenses. Right?


But, what if the corporate douche bags are lying through their teeth? There you are, dumpster diving for left overs outside a Carl's Jr and the senior management of your former financially fucked company is still ordering caviar pancakes for breakfast. What the hell? Didn't they just lay off 27 employees, because they were in the hole? Sometimes, the answer is, "you got fucked." How do you know?

1. Promotions all around
Let's say an ass ton of employees were laid off last month. I'm not just talking about the dude that drives the little mail cart around. No, we're talking skilled, white collar, middle management types. Inevitably you end up getting the dirt on the demon whore company that sent dozens of people packing. When you were still on staff, they couldn't afford to supply everyone with a computer made in the last ten years. Half the staff gets shafted with an Amiga or Apple Lisa. But, wait. There were a round of promotions after the layoffs?

Wait, WTF?
You, my friend, have been duped. Sure, the company had to make some cuts due to budget reasons; just not the reasons they eluded to. As soon as the dust settled, 10 friggin ass clowns were given hefty promotions and $25,000 raises. It's true, you and the other expendables were fired for financial reasons. But, the reasons weren't because the company had problems paying the electric bill. It's because the money that used to pay you needed to be redirected to a handful of fucks that already made thousands more than you!

Oh, bother. I'm simply running out of places to put all my money.

2. Adding to the Already Bloated Senior Management
While looking through useless job sites in an effort to find a job that pays in money, not beads, you become disheartened. It's not that there aren't jobs out there. It's that employers know the applicant to available position ratio is 1000 to 1 [citation needed]. After scrolling past the 80th pyramid scheme or shady work from home ad, you come across a familiar company. A company hiring a shit load of vice presidents, czars, grand poobahs, and other master of the universe type positions. Wait a mother loving minute! That's the company you were fired from!

Wait, WTF?
As with the previous scenario, the company needed to get rid of a bunch of staff positions due to their finances. So, in turn, to save the money they just reclaimed from the round of layoffs they go on a Paris Hilton-esq shopping spree for high power employees that cost four times as much as the money they yoinked from your sorry ass. Why, you ask? Well, so they can look like they know what they're doing while they drive themselves into the ground harder than a tent peg at the big top.

Well, maybe not the Big Top, but at least the oddities tent.

3. Big Donations for Big PR
A few months go by and you're forced to pay for your rent with manual labour and wheels of cheese. True, millions of people have it worse than you. At least you don't have to shit in a hole in some God-forsaken third world country like France. There have been so many cataclysmic disasters in the past few months one thinks the End of Days is here. The most terrifying catastrophe: The re-make of "We Are the World."

NO, Lionel Richie! YOU get right back to obscurity this very minute!

Companies love to donate to charities. But, these are tough times. Who can afford to cut a $50,000 check to shady relief fund with its office in a van with the engine running? You just got an earful of "The company has to tighten its belt" and "We have to be smarter with our money" war cries as the door hit your ass on the way out. Hold on a minute. The company that made you pack your professional life in a trash bag just promoted their ginormous donation to the earthquake-tsunami-famine-wrath of God fund.

Wait, WTF?
So, let us get this straight... the money whores gave you and a dozen of your buddies the 'ol heave-ho, because they didn't have the cash to pay you. So, where did the fucking charity money come from?

No, I don't have anything against giving to charity. I'm not Roode. I don't wish for the death of my fellow man. But, there is a certain bullshit contradiction when a company shit cans a shitastic number of employees for "financial reasons" then turns around and gives thousands upon thousands of dollars to the crisis of the month. OK, so I sound like a dick on that one. But think about it. There's no good way to say this. It's sort of a "Robbing Peter to pay Paul" deal. They say charity begins at home, but when was the last time a company sent out a press release for NOT firing employees?

Congratulations!

4. Mr. Bigshot President/CEO Gets a New Ride
You haven't gotten an oil change in five months. The only thing holding your shit box car together is duct tape and wishful thinking. The money is running out and you don't have a dime to spare for luxuries like brake pads, a functioning instrument panel, and working seat belts. You end up rolling past your ex-employer because the building is at the bottom of a hill and gravity is your fuel now. As you roll by in the world's most dangerous soapbox racer you see the carpeted, velvet roped parking spot that belongs to the big cheese. Wait one douchebaggy minute. When you left he had a Plymouth Reliant. Now, a fucking shiny new Lexus is in the space being washed and waxed by bikini models with bottles of Dom.

Wait? That shit is real? Why wasn't I told, damn it!?

Wait, WTF?
We call foul! A small army was tossed out the door due to cutbacks. Where, exactly, does a brand-spanking new pimpmobile for the bossman fit? To add some extra oomf to the crotch shot, the damn thing is leased by the company. So, it's not just the fact that Mr. Cutback somehow has the cash to buy him some new wheels. That shit is on the company dime!

Cash strapped company boss' ride.

Yours










Monday, March 01, 2010

Mailbag: Roode Pretends to Care About Reader Mail

By Roode

Damn it! Why the fuck do we have to acknowledge that there are people reading this shit? When I was brought on board, it was explicitly promised that no one was reading this wblog (no, that's not a typo). Tresckow is calling FWTC a "wblog". You know; website + blog = bullshit buzz word.

Ohhhhh hold on! Here comes another FRESH wblog!! With pieces of grass?


Ren, Adel, and I went in circles to see who was going to address this round of reader mail. Tresckow is out of the running, since he put on his big boy undies last year and waged war with your email. So, I guess this is the point when 'ol Roode gets all behind the scenes and answers each one of your letters to show you the inner workings of FWTC. That shit isn't going to happen. I've avoided this for the better part of a week. Adel provided me with print outs of your mail. I promptly threw them into the toilet. Here's a little known fact: large amounts of printer paper WILL kill a crapper. The fix it dude had to make the trek to our place so he could fish out half of the emails that were stuck in the plumbing. It wasn't pretty.

"Man, what kind of asshole would jam printer paper in a toilet,
then flush over and over, THEN hit it with a hammer?
"




From: SillyJilly11
"Do you really think any of this is funny? It's childish and sad."

Fuck you.

From: Gillybit
"I've noticed a lot fewer hate letters to FOX. Did Roode give up?"

The short answer is that I just don't give a shit anymore. Terminator and Dollhouse were canceled, regardless of ratings. TSCC had a shit pile more ratings than Dollhouse, but the colon suckers at FOX went with the cheaper product, then fucking canceled it within two months. It's exhausting to chastise a major network as much as I do. As long as Sons of Anarchy live, I'll delay my murderous rampage for another television season.

Try me, FX. I fucking dare you.

From: Dillhef.pog
"Are we going to be treated to another Saint Patrick's day rant?"

What is that, sarcasm? I can't tell. Just in case it is sarcasm, eat shit then punch yourself in the nuts. If it isn't, then punch someone else in the nuts. Either way, I have no idea. I'm guessing Ren, our resident Mick, will handle that. It's a day of fist fights, alcohol poisoning, and rekindling a decades long hatred of the British. That's all up Ren's alley. She's a fucking alcoholic. And that means something coming from someone who drank a combination of sour mash and Listerine.

Mmmmm. Minty with the slight taste of blindness.

From: Tyrell
"How can I send in a story to you?"

Well, Tyrell, we usually frown on random submissions, but I'll give you the inside dirt.
  1. Print out your submission and seal it in a brown envelop. It has to be brown.
  2. Go to your nearest Home Depot and slip the envelop under one of the display toilets in the plumbing section. Do NOT substitute a Lowe's. Repeat: Do NOT substitute a Lowe's!
  3. Before you leave mark the drop toilet by writing "I.P. Freely" on the lid in permanent marker.
  4. Go outside and ask a random elderly woman if she would like to take it in the pooper while gyrating your hips.
  5. Send us an email from jail and let us know how it all turned out.
From: Nos
"What's wrong with your site? The pics in some of the articles are gone."

Shit happens. Don't care.

From: Taquilfd
"Is any of what Ren wrote about her Canadian thing true?"

Canadian thing? The ill advised trip of whiskey fueled chicanery to Alberta? Or are you referring to one of her lady parts being Canadian? I know nothing about the latter. But, the whole article was true. She even left some of the more unbelievable stuff out. Maybe someday Ren will tell you about how she got out of being charged with lewd behavior with even lewder behavior. Here's a hint, it involves lap dancing and a riding crop.

Ren still gets emails from that guard.

From: Calweego
"This is just a shitty rip off of Cracked."

That's not a fucking question fucktard. This is what we call a declarative statement. "Is this a shitty rip off of Cracked" is a question. Just like, "Would you like it if I found you and stuffed your ass with hot coals?" Or, "Did you know your girlfriend was boned by the entire roster of the San Diego Chargers?" Here's a particular favorite of mine, "Do you know what being castrated with a spoon feels like?" Now, those are questions!

And, yeah, we're pretty much a shitty Cracked rip off. We're just a shit load poorer and have less exposure.

From: Tatargus
"Why are you guys so hard on Michael Jackson? He was the world's best performer!"

Dude, it's not the fact we're hard on MJ. It's the fact that we're pretty sure MJ was hard on kids. In the biblical sense.

From: Kourtican
"What's the obsession with Billy Mays?"

Seriously? You're kidding, right? No! You're serious! Billy Mays was and always shall be a credit to the species. The world died a little when he was called to that big direct shopping infomercial in the sky. To this day I wander around stores not sure what will clean my windshield or how I can talk on my cell while I drive recklessly at speeds not easily attainable by a Plymouth Duster. Simply put, Billy Mays IS ALL THAT IS MAN!

And we like his beard.

From: Pizoo kola
"I am offended by your constant use of the word 'retard.'" It's insensitive and downright rude."

How can I put this?
Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard.

From
: Dalton
"Is Ren cute? She sounds like she would be cute."

Cute? I don't know. She's just something we came up with to scare children like pop quizzes and Jack the Ripper.

From
: BVlnk
"So what, is everyone there related or something?"

So, no. Does it matter? Who gives a shit? Out of the four of us, three are related in some way or another. I, Roode, maintain my own company; like a cowboy. On a steel horse I ride. Because, I'm wanted. Dead or Ali.. FUCK! I knew that bullshit generic rock station I listened to this morning was going to come back to haunt me!

Fuck you, Bon Jovi.

From: AmberlyThrower
"網路交友18禁地航海王影片ㄇ美女圖片情慾免費情色電影台灣美女寫真貼圖區色情聊天室性愛情666avcom免費下載18禁小說一夜聊天室人之初貼圖後宮電影院入口成人情色歐美素圖qqav性愛姿勢a片直播a圖a片美女桌布"

Yes? No? What is the capital of Nebraska? What about this site has ever lead you to believe ANY of the columnists speak anything but broken English?

From: Barlow
"Roode seems to hate spending time with his family. What's his deal?"

What's my deal? Probably seething hatred. I kid. I don't hate my family. Not all of them, any way. I dislike the idea of liking them. Go to hell!

From: Kotterly
"Did anyone get arrested at Adel's wedding?"

No, although I'm pretty sure there were a few deportations.

From: Pasquall
"Is it OK to stuff a Thanksgiving turkey with bread crumbs before I put it in the oven?"

According to this site :
Most turkeys are too large for the internal temperature of the bird to reach sufficient temperatures quickly enough to kill bacteria present in stuffing which has been refrigerated. For this reason, you should plan to prepare the stuffing separately.

For more information about preparing food safely, visit the USDA's safe food handling website.

*Author's note: Why the fuck would anyone send us a question about preparing a Thanksgiving turkey?

Sincerely,
Roode