UAG

How's This For A Depressing Piece of Junk Mail

Man, there are so many perks to being Catholic. Like the inherent cultural guilt. Or the forty or so odd confirmation ceremonies you have to endure before you're an "adult." Or getting on the mailing list of the Archdiocese of Newark so you receive junk mail for mausoleum plots. 

I got this lovely full-color brochure for the "beautiful and majestic" Gate of Heaven Chapel Mausoleum just last week, and I gotta say, if I hadn't watched "Phantasm" back in the day, I'd consider chucking my corpse in one of those dresser drawers. No I wouldn't.  

I guess the most interesting part of the brochure is the "0% interest financing," which means this bad boy is probably pretty expensive. I guess it either teaches young people the value of saving all the way up till they grow up and croak or gives dying people the opportunity to really stick some serious debt to their loved ones. Because fuck them. Especially Nancy.

(Don't think that it escaped me that the two previous jokes centered around Germans.)

Stay tuned as I come around to downloading the mobile app to see what the heck that thing does. Because I'm curious now. Can you talk to the dead with it? Does it offer human remains Instagram filters? Does it track the police so you and your teen girlfriend can get it on under the gazebo?

You Can Tell A Lot About Pillow Protector's Customers By The Packaging

Audience 1: Old farts who love reading a lot more than they do playing hide the sausage (or walking the dog for that matter).

Audience 2: Unapproachable Asian woman reading Ayn Rand in a double bed. Her husband has left her, and she doesn't care. She is so misunderstood, just like Howard Roark in THE FOUNTAINHEAD!

Audience 3: Wait. Two questions: 1) Claritin makes pillow protectors? 2) Is that Kristine Johnson from Channel 2 News at 5?

Audience 4: Confident blonde sluts who don't have bugs in their coochie, thanks to sprinkling a little baking soda down there.

What the Shitfuck

So the other week I had to move some shrubs from one part of my yard into some planters. The planters look great now.


But the mass of torn up yard where they were looks like ass.


That's easily remedied by a quick trip to the Home Depot garden center to pick up some sod. Easy enough. But what is interesting is what I found amongst the old dirt:


#@$% autofocus!


I think this is some sort of pet treat ball. It's rubber on the outside with a little loose doohickey inside.


And what is this, an old horse stirrup? (A few minutes later I realized it was actually the brake for a 10 speed bicycle. Duh.)

Why is this shit buried in the backyard under shrubbery? If I dig deeper, will I find a rusty bike and a ferret skeleton? The previous owner to my house must have been some sort of junkyard voodoo wizard.

Lid Bib, Mang

Hey, mang. You heard of Lid Bib, mang? New thang, mang. Lid Bib save you from coffee on your shirt, mang. Save your shirt from staings, mang. Why take a chance, mang?

Lid Bib is like what it say, mang. Lid Bib is a bib like the bib you put on a baby, but you put on your coffee, mang. Prevents staings from stainging your shirt, mang. Easy as that, mang; I'm surprised nobody came up with that idea before, mang.


What, you think Lid Bib look ridiculous, mang? I tell you what look ridiculous, mang. Walking into a client meeting with big ol' coffee stang on your tie, mang. That's ridiculous, mang. You'll thang me later, mang, when your shirt and tie are perfect and you land that big Gunderson account, mang. And don' thang me, mang. Thang Lid Bib, mang.