Category Archives: gripes

Air Heads

I’ve had this advert page open all week. Staring. Ruminating. Head scratching. Maybe it tastes good. I don’t know. But I do know I’m not going to find out on the general principal of the premise and more so, the marketing campaign.


I have never seen anything so overtly promote apathy as positive. “This tastes of nothing and in doing so, challenges my senses in no way what so ever. Which is good because I can’t do 9×12= in my head without whipping out my iPhone, so clearly I’m maxed out. Also, I really enjoy being seen whipping out my iPhone for mundane tasks… I should Tweet that.”

I need a drink.


This guy is my hero

How To Not Piss Off The World With Your Email Signature

I once worked at an ad agency that forced employees to use an email signature. And not only did we have to have an email signature, but we had to rotate in new talking points about the company into the signature every week. “Did you know that Sturding Pooper Raper Lice was ranked a Top 50 Agency by AdWeek?” I quit that job after two months. Never in human history has a human being looked at an email signature and been like, “Whoa hey, I have to hire that person!”

The rest is here


This is the first of many critiques on humanity. Frankly, humanity has it coming.

Its misting this morning. Cold, 55°. For late April, its downright miserable. People are not deterred. Off to work and stuff. We’re such a resilient organism. Must be our superior intelligence.

Take that young lady getting out of that car there. Opens the door. Fiddling with something. More fiddling.  Oh! Here comes an umbrella. Don’t want to get misted on walking the 10′ from the car to the covered train station.

Wait, now there’s more fiddling.  The umbrella is now out the door and upside down catching all the moisture it was meant to repel.

She begins a contortionistic set of maneuvers to get out of the car while maintaining maximum dryness from the now torrential mist. I briefly consider calling the Coast Guard, that little umbrella may need some help.

Begin disembarkation. Umbrella out the door. First foot leaves the car. So far so good. Check umbrella position; it’s sideways now, neither catching water nor protecting that brave little foot that has ventured out alone into this harsh environment. A full torso twist, she turns to grab her rather large purse. A purse so cumbersome in this kind of weather could be her downfall but she can not be stopped, no!

Next foot is out the door. Umbrella check: still in useless mode. Purse-slash-fashionable-bod-bag in lap, she begins her inchworm tooshy slide out of the car. Engage umbrella! It is now fully operational. Its 24 inch diameter offers complete protection from the relentless mist.

A couple more heave-hos and she is out. Had she the faculty of both hands it would not have been nearly as difficult, but no sane human would have attempted to leave the vehicle lacking the protection of the umbrella. No, this is the way it had to be.

As she comes around the car I see her unobscured. She’s wearing capris and thong sandals. Fucking sandals.

Are you serious?

I just need to recap because I’m confused. It took you 5 minutes to get out of the car because you needed that teeny-tiny umbrella to keep you “dry” as you walked 10 feet in mist. Do you dislike your feet? Do they need to be punished? Perhaps they are made of some unique water resistant substance. That must be it. But that begs the question then: what her head was made of?