UTERINE FRIDAYDoes eating turkey make you sleepy?
MSN.com had a piece on that same question this morning. Ez has often marveled how the guys who write for those web portals like MSN and Yahoo come up with all that friggin content day after day? Hey, we’re coming up on deadline, whatcha got for today? Ok, let’s see. Can wearing a St. Christopher medal for twenty years produce skin cancer? Does Victoria’s Secret market its bras in equatorial Africa? Hey, all those ladies in National Geographic sure could use a lift.
So, besides the fact that capitalism has eaten our brains away from inside and that most of the people you will meet in the mall today are not really people at all, they are mutants. Ez doesn't have a lot to blog about today. Oh yeah, he could blog about the fact that spell check on Windows XP doesn't recognize the word blog –that there is always one of those red line whatsamajiggers under the word, just like there is under the word whasma jiggers. Now that is pretty interesting. MSN doesn't own Blogger, their nemesis does. Ez has read far less interesting pieces lately on various web insider techie sites. Like all this shit on Google and android. Give us a break already. Like who gives a shit. What people really want to know is, will you one day be able to access the internet from your scrotum? Are they working on that shit, or are they not? And who came up with the word scrotum anyway? Is it taken from the Latin?
You see, Ez could really work for one of those pump out the daily content web portals. He has a panoramic mind, or people tell him that. How could anyone possibly write nearly 250 blogs about a hole in the wall town like Ithaca, New York. Hey, believe Ez when he tells you that it has been a struggle to come up with content for the blog. The fact that he has been able to blog every day since the end of October is no mean feat.
Steroids for the imagination. That is how. Ez is the Barry Bonds of blogging, all pumped up with them content-enhancing steroids that give you the edge when there is absolutely nothing but the dead and the dying to write about in your little town, credit to Paul Simon here. Ez loves that song. He’s visited that place over and over again.
Now Ez has had this great idea. What about if the big boxes and giant retailers programmed a computer in your car, sent all the blue light specials, winter circulars, news about white sales, etc to a little microchip in your Saturn? You know, no advertising every 5 minutes on tv, no pop ups on your pc, no billboards, no advertisements tattooed on people’s foreheads, just pump that shit right into your dashboard. Then, you’d wake up on Black Friday, have your Jimmy Dean sausage and egg mcmuffin or some shit like that and feel like good morning starshine, get in your car and head out to the mall or Planet Big Box on Rt 13. The GPS system in your car would automatically lead you to the best buys, take you wherever there are bargains thanks to Google Maps, and they could stop trying to program our fucking brains all the time.
Now, tell Ez, is that a good idea or what? Confess, does he deserve the Nobel Prize or what?
Anyway, did you ever wonder why the Friday after Thanksgiving is called Black Friday? How so, is it not true that the chiming of the registers brings happiness to retailers. Certainly happiness resides in the White House because the Chief Executive Consumer wants us to shop, shop, shop. Could the blackness refer to the darkness invisible of returning to a place where all of our material needs are met, where we are suckled through the umbilical cord connecting us to the Great Ocean of Stuff?
And so, stuffed with turkey, lullabied by advertising, we fall asleep on Thanksgiving evening, dreaming deeply of that ultimate consumer fantasy, a return to the womb where we can once again be truly happy and fulfilled, bobbing around again in the murky amniotic waters.
Comments invited at: ezrakidder@gmail.com - Peace, Ezra at 2:24 AM
