Increase In Gas Prices
"With our Juggies full and our gas real cheap, GallonMart's savings are yours to keep"
Well, the yeas have it! According to a recent poll I cast last week, an overwhelming 67 percent of you wanted to hear about the increase in gas prices. That’s more than half of the people who voted! Can you believe it? I can…’t.
Our incredible yet believable story begins where any true story begins; at a store. This isn’t just any store, though. This is the GallonMart off 104th. In case you don’t know, the GallonMart is a warehouse superstore where all products are sold by the gallon. It’s no Costco or Sam’s Club because it’s worse; free samples are in gallon increments and it’s always stuff you’d never consume like Pork Points and Lye Milk. Management at the GallonMart has its employees empty prepackaged consumable items into recycled gallon jugs known as Juggies. The store apparently saves money this way because of the huge savings offered from manufacturers for buying in bulk.
Although it’s not true, GallonMart also claims to have the largest assortment of crap in gallon form on the planet. They are so proud of this fact, that their slogan reads: “If we don’t have it in a Juggie, we’ll send you to Mars.” The slogan is then followed by a disclaimer that argues all claims of interplanetary travel will not hold up in a court of law.
However bizarre the store’s concept, it’s the business model that’s really interesting. Since GallonMart guarantees the lowest wholesale prices on obsolete items like Robert Milsap’s Malt Flavored Turkey Burst, Ibuprofiend Pain Reliever (highly addictive; popular with teenagers), and Red Bull Elephant Energy Drank, it has a difficult time meeting their projected profit margins. Can you honestly tell me who in their right mind is going to buy a gallon of Elephant Drank? Ech, gross!
To offset costs, however, they sell one product that people absolutely need: gasoline. GallonMart has recently built a filling station. They figure that people who actually stop in and shop are happy to fill up their cars with seemingly discounted gas. Even though GallonMart’s marketing strategies would suggest otherwise, their gas is not discounted at all.
GallonMart’s gasoline prices are off the chart. It averages fifteen cents more per gallon than that of the next highest purveyor of fuel. What’s worse, is that the self-filling stations are vending machines stocked with Juggies full of gas. Forget pumping your own gas. As the customer, you’re expected to “Pour yourself an old one (they play the age of fossil fuels on the old adage ‘pour a cold one’)”. Surprisingly, people are lining up around the block as a result of the unique filling methods and supposed convenience and reduced prices. They feel it’s kitschy and fun. And in order to recoup lost business, other gas stations are raising prices.
Hopefully, like most things, this is just a passing fad. If it is not a fad, then this is my warning to you people: stop pouring your gas! It’s expensive and wrong. It’s costing this community a lot of money. Additionally, you’re being lied to. If you’re going to shop at GallonMart, please buy other essentials like Gallon-O-Tripe or Rubber Wash and stay away from the gas. It’s watered down, anyway.
This message brought to you by the BBB (big bawling bitch).
The Dentistry
Teeth strings for the plucking.
Sometimes you go to Pittsburgh and your teeth hurt. There was a building called the Dentistry. When you went there an irate Aussie was working beyond the counter. In a thick Australian accent he said, “You like your teeth and so do Aye!” You were frightened about the insurance. No copay? You were vulnerable then. The Aussie glanced up from his stack of answers holding a knife to your face like a pen to paperwork and quietly barked, “I’m not from around here.” Shhh. You take the clipboard to the lobby. The lobby? The lobby. All of the white magazines and doors were covered in copy from covers to floors. You filled it out. Your appointment was sooner than it was. “You get in the chair,” he said. The gas passed. “Don’t forget your toothbrushes for the long trip.” Not again today. The Aussie gripped a knife in his hand’s palm; his main digits were thumbs. He has your teeth in his stack. He was nice enough to leave you smiling. It is what it is. You’ve always looked taller. The Dentistry was a building in Pittsburgh. It was made from teeth. They had rot. You can whistle again.
Just Curious…
Yeah, kind of like this
I’m curious about retards but I’m scared to approach them. I see Down Syndrome people or wheel-abouts (my expression for the mentally and physically doomed) and my heart aches. I feel so bad that I can’t even talk to them. I know if I did I would slip up and start asking them math related questions. I weep inside when I see a bus of them pull up outside the mall’s food court. What, if anything, are they thinking? Do you think that their thought processes are like those of animals? I heard this argument once that animals don’t have the ability to feel or communicate with others. One justification for slaughtering cows or chickens to eat is that they can’t feel the pain because they’re somehow immune. Are retards like that? Are they immune to pain? If they can’t feel anything or communicate effectively, do they want to live? Should we eat them? We’d have to kill them first. According to my speculation, they won’t feel it. Most wouldn’t be able to tell anyone about the injustice they were suffering at the feed lots because they couldn’t comprehend the situation. They wouldn’t know any different. I can see them getting upset trying to think about the way things could be or couldn’t be or just….UGH, poop! They could just vent their frustrations with poop throwing/eating contests. “Do you smell that, honey? I think they just wrangled up some more ‘tards for slaughter.” I wonder what they taste like. If only I wasn’t so scared to ask them, they could probably tell me.
World’s Greatest Insult
The reason for the lake is to have a place you can drown yourself after you lose all of your money
I went to Lake Tahoe a few months ago for my buddy, Goldie’s, bachelor party. In addition to the sick ski resort and water sport activities that can be had at Tahoe, there is also legalized gaming. I’m not talking Monopoly or Galloping Pigs. I’m talking about the provocative, self degrading gambling games like keno and craps. These are the kind of games that you either win some or lose big. Of course, when I lose, which is always, I get pissed. “What a waste of money?!” I’ll say. Every time one of my friends tell me that they’re up for the trip or that they’re breaking even, I tense up. I’m pretty sure that winning or at least keeping money in a casino is impossible. Apparently, they’ve all read Mensa’s Guide To Gambling and had great success; something I’m still getting around to. Anyway, I ended up with my last $100 to piss away in one of six classy casinos and I sat down at a Black Jack table next to my other friend, Teddy. With a $10 minimum on the table, I knew that this would either make or break me. The dealer was a middle-aged woman and my perception of her was that she seemed friendly enough, that is, until she started taking my money. Now, usually, I can hang at the Black Jack table (it starts off well, I build a bank roll, then the money fades away, and I leave knowing I played a good long game). Not this time. The game gods were not on my side that night. I feel that if you approach a situation with a good attitude and good things to say, you will enjoy the process and even come out happy at the end. This was not the case. Like I said, I was pissed; down to my last hundo. Within a matter of minutes of sitting down, I played through 9 hands without a single push or win. $90 just like that. After some casual banter with the dealer about how poorly the game was going for me, I looked her in the face and with the most sincere disposition told her, “It’s not that I wish you were dead, it’s just that I wish your parents would have died before you were born.” You take $90, I steal your soul. The most Jewish act of my life. She asked me to leave the table. I wandered around some and played my last ten spot all the while contemplating what had come over me. Who knows? Frustration, maybe. Whatever it was I’m pretty sure I dished out the world’s greatest insult.
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