Throw him in the main stream.
Check it, frozen spicy rice from TJ’s, chicken, tomato soup, goat cheese, and some seasonings. Make it in bulk and it lasts days!
And for my finance friends boning up on their ampersands and abbreviations:
Nah, candidly, I opened this thing and it was painfully amateur. I’d rather pinch my nugget pouch in a DVD case than read another page.
Today’s song of the day is Baba O‘Riley by The Ghost of Paul Revere. (The alternative video by the same band is arguably a better sound). LOOK AT THAT VIEW COUNT! ADMIRE MY APPRECIATION FOR OBSCURE, UNDERGROUND ARTISTS?!?
…and some snatch. First Donny-T and then this…didn’t Bernie warn us about the billionaire class?
With the media and celebrities viciously attacking Handsy Weinstein, I ask you this: who’s the real victim here?
Of course I’m joking. But, is it really workplace sexual harassment if one participant is more senior than the other? I don’t know, I’m just asking questions, man.
Now a photo share from our very own Arch Stanton:
AAAAAYYYYYYY-OOOH!!! This morning, someone brought the following article to my attention:
He mentioned that the fire chief and his men were pulling straws to see who could go fight the fire. I can imagine the firefighters now.
No, in all fairness, these pot wildfires are no laughing matter and the men and women going in there are right to be hesitant to rush in. Like Bonnie Tyler, we need a hero. We need a fire chief who’s not afraid to brave the carbon monoxide and THC fumes. We need
Today’s song of the day is I Don’t Like by Chief Keef.
You’re just 10mg of addy away from that vFINAL!
Also, this two minute video (Everyone’s Upstairs Neighbor) should be required reading for all boys and girls entering the multi family housing world. What shouldn’t be required reading, yet was required for a roommate back in my colleeeeege years:
Brought to you by the labor movement. Like any movement, it smells a little funny at first but then rapidly turns to shit.
Ah, October 10th. Happy ten, ten, ten, twenty on yo titties, bitch. Today’s song of the day is Rack City by Tyga. Shout out to Mr. Rose.
However, after two hours of slamming my clam hammer balls deep into an industry overview, I realized that today’s song of the day has to be Back Dat Azz Up by Juvenile. Brought to you by the definitely Americans and certainly not Indians good people at IBISWorld:
Where they missed a real opportunity to show rather than tell:
I came across this photo of a sandwich while doing market research at work. Who else can lift a wet towel right now?
If you haven’t seen it, Donald Trump took precious moments away from his 2020 campaign to shower Puerto Ricans with American generosity. Nothing says “White America is here to help you” like mushroom tipping a bunch of Puerto Rican Oompa Loompas in the face with the Brawny Man. Who cares about delivering internet and power, I won’t sleep until we’ve cut down the entire Amazon Rainforest to get these mother fuckin’ Puerto Ricans, on these mother fuckin’ paper towels. Those are going to be some chaffed assholes down there and they haven’t even digested their pension obligations yet. Oh it’s going to be a surprise, A RUDE, PAINFUL SURPRISE.
Now time for some self awareness:
Are you fucking kidding me? These guys couldn’t land a touchdown with their wives. Or side pieces. Speaking of having a main bitch, and a mistress, and a couple of girl friends, being so hood rich, today’s song of the day is Head of the State by Baracka Flacka Flames.
An image for my girls still at the office tonight:
And finally, the McLaren P1, because a girl can dream, right?
Roping off a $1.2 million car with a plastic barrier chain? Nice, McLaren. Maybe it’s time you Brexit from the auto industry and focus on pushing cheap hats and questionably sourced keychains like Ferrari. AHHH SKEET SKEET SKEET!
And finally, Chick-fil-A has been rubbing off on Jimmy Johns (assuming the Bible says that’s okay):
Nothing bespeaks “thank god we live in America” like a black guy desperately trying to strip himself of ownership-administered shackles. I don’t know, that meat and bread on the right looks a little gay, over under Chick-fil-A walks from the deal?
A) Sorry to block out the location info. It is Uber, so she’s not in London. It is not an UberBoat, so she’s not in Puerto Rico. There is a functioning street lamp, so she’s not in North Korea. She does speak English, so she’s not in Miami or SoCal. She is driving, so she’s not in Saudi Arabia (for now). She does like restaurants, so she’s not in the Upper East Side.
Eh, fuck it. Today’s song of the day is Movin’ Like Bernie by ISA. Watch the video.
This might be too gay even for the Hot Cops:
Oh and this:
And this complete sack of shit:
And finally, finally, they finally made a shirt for I-banking’s Technology, Media, and Telecom group:
About damn time. These TMT guys labor harder than anyone else, had to fight to get to the top against all odds, and pull themselves up by their bootstraps. About damn time the world finally recognizes the TMT industry group for all the blood, sweat, and tears it took to make it on top.
Oh, and apparently I live in the same building as America’s next top starving actress:
…METAPHORICALLY, of course. What are we if not self aware and intellectually honest? Anyone hear of any casting calls for SuperSize Me 2.0? Perhaps we can star her in a movie as a confused Helios, chasing a cheese curd across the sky.