White Bread

I’ve figured it all out.

On the topic of stem cell research, President Bush says that we can’t “destroy life to save life”. For the record, I happen to disagree with him on this one.

But on the topic of war, we can destroy terrorist lives to save non-terrorist lives. This time, I agree.

So all we need to do is round up all of the Taliban, Hezbollah, Iraqi, Iranian, and North Korean folks that hate democracy, freedom, capitalism, and Christianity; and force them to have sex with each other. That way, we can harvest their babies-to-be for stem cell research. You see, we would be destroying a life that would probably destroy more lives anyway in order to save a life that may have an opportunity to destroy and/or save more lives, whichever the situation at the time merits. If we don’t, we would certainly have to destroy that life later anyway.

Go ahead, try to poke a hole in that theory. –>

Abraham Lincoln, 1863:

“…that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom — and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth.”

Winston Churchill, 1940:

“It is victory-victory at all costs, victory in spite of all terror-victory, however long and hard the road may be, for without victory there is no survival”

Martin Luther King, Jr, 1963:

“When we let freedom ring, when we let it ring from every village and every hamlet, from every state and every city, we will be able to speed up that day when all of God’s children, black men and white men, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics, will be able to join hands and sing in the words of the old Negro spiritual, “Free at last! free at last! thank God Almighty, we are free at last!”

George W. Bush, 2006:

“See the irony is that what they need to do is get Syria to get Hezbollah to stop doing this shit and it’s over.”

Then he did the Curly Shuffle and then hopped over the horizon Daffy Duck-style. OK, I made that last part up, but he’s still retarded.

–>

The other day I saw a black guy in the most ridiculous t-shirt I’ve ever seen. I only mention that he was black because it’s important for the content of the t-shirt.

The shirt was red in color. Don’t worry, that’s not the funny part. At the bottom of the shirt’s front was the Warner Brothers logo. And the shirt read:

“If you see da police comin’, Warn A Brotha”

And hence my hypothesis is validated - put any stupid shit on a t-shirt, and someone will be dumb enough to buy it. –>

This is, word-for-word, my exchange with what is probably a nice young lady trying really hard to do her job at Arby’s a couple of nights ago. You can’t make this stuff up.

Some background info. I ordered a number 5 and a side of potato cakes because I was starving. Beating your head against the wall for three and a half hours in a useless MBA class can really work up an appetite. I pull around to the window.

Arby lady: “$9.31″
Me: “Wow, that sounds a little more pricy than usual.”

No reply. She just took my money. After what seemed to be an eternity, caused by a combination of my hunger and their inability to deliver fast food fast, she handed over the bag of deliciousness. Since I’m a pessimist, I always check the bag to make sure the order is right. Uh oh, we have a problem.

Arby lady: “Have a nice day”
Me: “Wait a minute, are these potato cakes in here?”
Arby lady: “Yes.”
Me: “Do you really think that I would ask that question if I didn’t already know the answer?”
Arby lady: “What?”
Me: “These aren’t potato cakes.”
Arby lady: “Are you sure?”

I held up the mystery side dish. Ah, this should resolve everything. She’ll see that the incorrect side was put in my bag, she’ll get me some damn potato cakes, and I’ll be on about my day. She took a look, furrowed her brow, cocked her neck, and spun around to ask the assistant shift manager something. “Can I get some potato cakes ASAP!” That would be a great question to ask. I’m not sure what she said, but it had nothing to do with potato cakes. The saga continued:

Arby lady: “Oh, someone must have entered in potato bites instead of potato cakes.”
Me: “Oh.”
Arby lady: “Don’t worry about the cost difference, you’re all set.”
Me: “But you charged me more than usual, and you didn’t give me what I ordered!”
Arby lady: “What?”
Me: “I want the potato cakes that I ordered, and I think you owe me some money back.”

Again, the furrowed brow, the cocked neck, a look back to see if the assistant shift manager could bail her out of this predicament. She’s nowhere to be found. Oh no! She’s probably out back on her smoke break making out with her baby’s daddy in the back of his El Camino. You could cut the tension with a knife.

Me: “You know what, fuck it.”

And I sped off. Welcome to the list Arby’s. It was fun while it lasted.

–>