The Apocalypse is Now

You know how in really bad sci-fi movies that came out last year starring Nicole Kidman and Daniel Craig, the protagonists are always piecing together seemingly unrelated clues and minor details that, when you think about it, all point to an apocalyptic end to mankind as we know it? I hate that. It's so... unrealistic. At least that's what I used to think.

As for me, my life is devoid of dramatic music in the background to let me know when I'm on to something, but I'm still a very astute observer, and I've discovered too many irrational things in the last 24 hours to keep quiet about them anymore. What follows below is the first of several examples that prove we are hurtling head-long towards the end of mankind. If these examples represent the direction our society is headed, the wheels are gonna come off long before the four horsemen ever ride over the horizon.

When I say "Carnival Food", it probably conjures up memories of riding the Himalaya on a hot summer night, right after you watched the carney wipe up some corn-dog-and-cotton-candy vomit off of your seat with an old towel, filled with a wierd mix of apprehension and exhilaration. (Just me? OK) Nevertheless, unspeakable cravings overcome me when I'm standing in front of the bright yellow food vendor stands, and the no-nonsense price list, and the sleeveless, bearded men and women who make it happen. Corn dogs that would make a porn star flinch. Nachos as big as your face. Turkey legs, dripping with delicious goodness.

But those were the old days. Sure, there was guilt the next morning for violating your diet, but you swore not to do it for about a year, hopped on the treadmill, and all was right with the world again. The kind of food they serve now at carnivals is of a caliber that makes me feel guilty as soon as I hand my money over. Fried twinkies, fried coke (wtf?), fried candy bars. I saw pizza on a stick. I've heard legend of a corn dog with chili on the inside. Nothing, however, prepared me for what I saw last night.

HOT BEEF SUNDAE (no really, here's proof: http://www.iabeef.org/Docs/Hot_Beef_SundaePR.pdf)

Try that on for size--doesn't your skin just feel greasy because you're thinking about it? The actual ingredients (beef, mashed potatoes, cheese, gravy, cherry tomato on top) aren't so bad. No, it is the Marketing department who is playing God by giving this thing such an excruciating name. The concept of "beef as dessert" won't just leave you with a twinge of guilt. No, this is a mind-fuck that will sink you into self-loathing and gravy addiction long after you've digested the 3,000 calories. This is beyond the scope of our fearless chefs-sans-sleeves and their 'stick it and fry it' mentality. This is surely the work of an evil genius, and proof positive that the antichrist will be a charismatic carney.

Junk Mail

Due to the unusually small mailboxes in my building, I'm disproportionately annoyed by the amount of junkmail that I get (2-3 pieces a day). If I'm not otherwise occupied, I try to call whoever sent me the mail, thank them profusely, and politely request to be taken off their mailing list. Well, that's only partially true.

The thing about telemarketers and customer service reps is that they sold their soul long ago to serve as the cold, uncaring face of corporate America, so I don't feel so bad for unleashing mild amounts of annoyance and sarcasm on them. I can't talk to some hotshot, asshole VP of Marketing for Netflix, who's job it actually was to walk into a meeting and say

"why don't we just send Josh 3 Netflix offers a week until he caves?"
"Conserve Paper?!? Environment?!?!....Did someone say 'Applebee's for lunch'?....lets go get some FAJITA SHOOTERS and FRIED SUSHI STICKS."

(sorry...I must have missed lunch today)

So instead I get to talk to poor Erin, who's chipper and has nothing to do with Asshole VP. She promises to take me off the list within 30 days, and I promise to bind all of the Netflix offers in a keepsake album, dote on them daily, and call as soon as I am ready for a DVD-Direct-To-Home relationship again. She apologizes for any inconvenience, and I apologize for calling her a useless hand-puppet of an evil corporate machine. OK, again, this is only partially true.

Today, however, I reached the coupon mailer company after hours. I stopped just seconds shy of leaving a scathing voicemail, and opted instead to make use of more advanced technology. The following is excerpted from the Comments section of my 'Don't want no more Shitty Coupons' address removal request form, located on the company's website.

I appreciate the Pizza Hut coupons, I really do, but I keep forgetting to use last weeks coupons, and then it becomes infuriating when the new coupons show up in the mail. (Is it Tuesday already? ARGGGG! I paid FULL PRICE for pizza just yesterday!) Add to that the environmental devastation caused by piles and piles of unused coupons that I must now throw in a landfill somewhere, and my anxiety becomes overwhelming. The Long John Silver coupons though....you'd have done us both a favor if you had just kept them in the first place.

The name I gave above ("Resident") is the moniker by which you've addressed me in all mailings. Your fine print requires that I give my full name, but I hesitate to do so, having seen what you can do with just my address. If you need my full legal name (for some reason that only God or Johnnie Cochran could fathom) please contact me at the email address below, and we can roll up our sleeves and deal with the issue properly, regardless of how many hours it might take. Otherwise, just remove my address from your database, and any other databases you have access to.

JoshW_17@hotmail.com

DO NOT, however, use my email address for spam mailings. Despite the lack of environmental devastation, electronic junkmail is still pretty fuckin' annoying.

Sincerely,

Josh "Doesn't like Junk Mail" _W17


...and somewhere in metropolitain Milwaukee, Asshole VP curses the one that got away.
"Shots are on me, guys. Who likes Apple Pucker?! YEAH!"