This year, make a change that matters. To illustrate the importance of doing so, here is a moral tale based on the National Football League franchise, the Dallas Cowboys. (Don’t worry, NFL fandom is not required to learn this lesson.)
Once upon a time, there was an evil NFL franchise owner and CEO, Jones Jerry. Jones Jerry was neither faery nor orc. He was pure-D avarice from his wazoo to his cork. Stab him with a knife or blend him with a spoon, as owner, operator and general manager, he’d fork you in the end.
He lined his wooly pockets by milking talent and sparking drama. He drove his players to the point of slapping their own mama while he danced and jigged high up in his skybox.
“A pox!” his subjects did cry. “It’s rigged! We supply you with money in exchange for more than Romos and Wittens and Bryants. We want a championship, or we’ll switch our allegiance to the football Giants!” (Now with more iridium!)
At first Jones Jerry did fret to the point of regret for purchasing his multi-million dollar bionical-hip (and stadium). “Don’t be a dope,” he smirked a wicked smirk. “Those hicks, I’ll lend them hope.” A mad hatter with geriatric bladder, he passed haughty gas from his executive potty. “I’ll fire the coach, that torpid roach.” [Read more...]
The parable of Ozmodiar is more important today than ever. And no, I’m not talking about an allegorical planet in which sympathy takes the form of blue cheese and flatulence represents the soul of man. I’m talking about the animated extra from the cultural beacon, The Simpsons. Ozmodiar appears in the final scene of an episode from season eight, and only Homer can see him.
If nations have anthems, why shouldn’t you? I mean, what’s the difference between a large united aggregate of people organized around something in common and all the united aggregate stuff of you? Very little, if you ask me.
For all you really forward thinkers out there, it is time to consider a change of residence based on the best spots to live out the end of the world as we know it. As any fan of apocalyptic or post-apocalyptic fiction or film knows, the last places you want to be are NYC or anywhere in the UK. Those places are where the Biblical crap hits the meat grinder of humankind’s jackasseriness first and foremost.
In today’s amoral world it seems the majority of folk wander the surface of the earth as if trying for the part of an extra on the Zombieland set. Unsure of how to deal with or construct nuanced moral values, we instead bounce around life aimlessly while mumbling, “brains, must have brains.”
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