Oh, and while you are over here, your parents are on Ebay trying to sell you

"You should go home right now."

"Why?"

"Because you aren't my problem, and I hate you."

"Why?"

"Because you keep asking 'Why?', but are clearly not interested in the answer."

"Why?"

"My guess is that it's because you are just an obnoxious, horrid little brat."

"Why?"

"Because your parents made you that way."

"Why?"

"My guess is that it's because Mommy wanted to have a kid right away, but Daddy didn't, and you came along even though Daddy thought they were still discussing it, so now every time daddy sees you he's reminded of what he considers a betrayal."

"Why?"

"Because Daddy remembers how awesome it was to be married to your mom when she was still slim and exciting and spontaneous and awesome in the sack.   Before you came along and ruined everything."

"Why?"

"Because that's what kids like you do. They ruin things."

"Why?"

"Because you are horrible.  Because you bother people, just like you are bothering me now.  Difference is, I get to tell you to get lost.  Your parents are stuck with you.  They hate that, but they are trapped.  I'm not.  Now, you have five seconds to leave."

"Why?"

"Because if you are still here after five seconds, I'm going to tell that monster in your closet to eat you while you sleep tonight."

The magic of exploitation (or "Capitalism: It's bigger than Humanity,") brewed by Starbucks

Now that Starbucks has put the magical journey of Sue's coffee-  from underpaid, underfed farmers living in conditions that would have been deemed horrific in the Antebellum Southern United States to it's brewing by "Barristas" (snigger) at overcrowded Starbucks where treacly, manipulative music plays on the loudspeakers and everyone in front of you wants some god damned complicated drink which may or may not actually include COFFEE and where brownies and bagels cost $5, let's see where else we can take this lovely little concept:

The origins of Sue's jacket- from a Pakistani sweat shop to the grimy, rat-infested docks to one of hundreds of Wal Mart storage warehouses and finally to the rack.  Accompanied by music, of course.

The origins of Sue's seafood dinner at the trendy (read: costly) little place near the pier (strictly for atmosphere) from the fishing vessels in the East China Sea to the stinking cannery in Vietnam to her plate.

The origins of Sue's I Phone 5, from the frozen fingers of the Chinese preteen working in an unheated factory in the middle of a town where the ONLY job is at said factory to the packing center where asbestos falls like snow on starving minions working 20-hour shifts and 80-hour weeks for wages that would make the Joads recoil to her own warm, well-manicured hand.  So she can check her Facebook page while stopped at a red light or download a concert while sitting on a park bench.  Heartwarming.

Yes, I sure hope this is the beginning of a trend.  It certainly would be educational.  Except, the reality is something most of us would rather just ignore, because it's a real bring down to realize how much blood, sweat and tears went into the little luxuries we simply could not live without, isn't it?

The customers Comcast REALLY cares about

I've pretty much reconciled myself to the idea that everyone in this country except me lives in a $3 million dollar home featuring kitchens twice as large as my apartment.  Homes with perfectly maintained hardwood floors.  Homes which just scream "Latin American Cleaning Crew Practically Lives Here."

And I've pretty much come to grips with the idea that everyone in this country except me has lightning-fast internet speeds which download pages before one has even finished typing out the address and streams movies to 40 different devices including the 80-inch plasma televisions mounted on every other wall, including the one in the bathroom large enough to double as a den.

What I will NEVER reconcile is the idea that people who live in these homes care about saving money on their cable/internet/phone service.  Seriously, how do brains like this function?  Thirty-year mortgage on a $3 million palatial estate.  $10 K on big screen televisions, including the one in the tree house.  Sunken living rooms and cleaning crews.  Oh, but Comcast is a slightly better deal than Fios- don't get fooled into signing a ruinous five-year contract!

Seriously, though, would it be so damned hard for Comcast to show us a commercial which is even remotely relatable to those of us who AREN'T snug and comfy in the 1%?  People like me, who use the package Comcast (without even a hint of irony) refers to as "Blast," which apparently translates into "Internet Service, Sometimes?"  I mean, I don't want to use my phone or laptop to look at my apartment wherever I go.  I don't want to adjust the heat or turn the freaking lights on from school.  I just want to be able to check my email, read the news, and write for my blog without endless freezing, cutesy "OOPS!" messages, and intensely unhelpful CLICK EASY SOLVE pop-ups (EASY SOLVE is Comcast's awesome, FREE service which provides terrific information like YOU ARE NOT CONNECTED TO THE INTERNET.)

To get any of those things, I guess I have to move into a $3 million home and start installing massive televisions.  Then Comcast will be interested in keeping me away from Fios.  Until then, I'm stuck watching the endless struggle of the Pretty Rich People dealing with the petty annoyances which keep life from being Absolutely Perfect.

Is there an App to help this woman discover where her life went?

So your adowable wittle daughter walks up to you five minutes before you are supposed to be bundling her into the SUV and taking her to school and announces that it's "Dress Like a President Day." You panic for a moment, before you remember that your other Little Helper- the one that doesn't come in a bottle and isn't prescribed by the understanding doctor downtown- can show you a picture of the eighth president in about three seconds.

So you find out what Van Buren looked like, whip open a few drawers, and in about ten minutes you've put together a passable costume for little miss Wait Till The Last Damn Minute To Get MommyWife To Do Your Homework For You.  She shows well at school and, more importantly, you don't look like a failure in fulfilling your MommyWife duties.  Adowable Wittle Daughter gets dropped off at school and you can get back to your medication and interviewing housekeepers.

Here's another option- "Well, honey, I'm sorry you didn't mention that earlier- I'm sure your teacher told you about this days or even weeks ago.  It was your responsibility to at least tell me about this long before now.  We might have had a very good time researching Martin Van Buren, learning about his life, learning about the  style of clothing of his period and, of course, learning what he looked like.  We could have gone to the local craft store and picked out just the right things to make our costume, and we could have spent a very nice weekend afternoon putting it all together."

"I guess now you expect me to just pull up an image of Martin Van Buren on my tablet, and a costume and makeup for you to wear out of my ass.  But I've got a much better idea.  I think it's time for Adowable Wittle Daughter to learn a little lesson in responsibility.  You see, Mommy has a lot of stuff on her mind every day- there's stuff to be bleached, there's meals to be cooked, there's cleaning staff to order around, there's shopping to be done, there's stuff to be bleached....Sob....."

"Sorry about that.  So you are going to school today in your regular clothes, and you can explain to your teacher why you totally forgot to plan for your Martin Van Buren costume.  I'm sorry you will look bad, but this is an important lesson.  I know it seems that Mommy lives to cater to you and your father's every goddamned whim and doesn't have a life of her own, or dreams of her own, or ANYTHING of her own....Sob....but it just isn't so."

"Where the hell did those pills get to?"

Never mind your day. You have NO LIFE

I'm a Red Sox and New England Patriots fan.  I'm old enough to remember the Buckner play, the Super Bowl Shuffle massacre, and Green Bay ruining what would be Drew Bledsoe's only chance to win a ring on the field.   I know what it's like to live and die with a team.

All that being said-- this commercial will always be my response to anyone who complains to me that people take devotion to a sports team too seriously.  The characters who "had a bad day" in this ad aren't crying because their teams lost.  They are crying because their Fantasy Teams lost.   Not actual teams- virtual teams they created.

Ladies and Gentlemen, I present to you the Biggest Losers in the History of Western Civilization.

Seriously, if you get emotional because your Fantasy Team ended up with a losing record- well, let's just say that being Pathetic is something you are very much familiar with.  This is beyond sad.

Earth to Dumbasses With Way Too Much Time On Your Hands:  Nobody in their right mind takes Fantasy Teams this seriously.  It's a Fantasy Team. That means it doesn't exist outside of your pathetic little circle of fellow players (I'd call you the Geek Squad, but that's been taken by Best Buy.)   So when you find yourself crying in the shower because your decision to be a desk monkey instead of the manager of an NFL team was just confirmed by your craptacular failure at assembling teams, well.....I really have nothing to say that could be of comfort.  You need a lot more help than I could ever give.

Discover another blatantly racist ad

Fat black women. Check.

Head wags.  Check.

Totally befuddled by technology- "I don't like talkin' to robots."    Oh, they are such SIMPLE people, aren't they?  Check.

"Girl."  Oh, they are such CHILDREN, aren't they?  Check.

Droopy, half-open eyelids and quizzical, "WTF-Ever" looks.  Check.

"I forgot what I was calling about."  Never seen this in a commercial featuring white people.  But why should I? Black people are SOOOOO FUNNY because they are SOOOO CLUELESS AND FORGETFUL  LOL!  Check.

Discover Card joins the "there's nothing funnier than African-Americans acting the way White People think that African-Americans are supposed to act" parade.  Hey, no problem, Discover- there's always room for one more monkey wrench in the gears of progress. I'm just surprised you didn't manage to get these women dancing.  You KNOW how musical "they" are.

K Mart Proves that Intensely Stupid is Intensely Stupid in any language

Have you ever been overwhelmed with a desire to just start punching people in the face?

If not, K Mart introduces you to an entirely new emotion.

Seriously, K Mart.  This crap has to stop.  Right now.  Because this-- this---Obscenity doesn't make me want to buy anything.  It just makes me want to hurt someone.  And to avoid your Big Box Made in China junk shop like the freaking plague.  

And keep in mind, this manic "excitement" is all about K Mart having Lay-Away.  You remember Lay-Away: that super-convenient innovation which allows people with lousy credit to overspend just like the rest of us.  Oh joy.

The mute button is currently the most useful part of the tv remote.  What we need now is a button which blacks the screen out until the commercial is over.  Not just for K Mart ads, but K Mart certainly does provide us with positive proof of the absolute necessity of such a button.