What’s up, what’s up, WHAT’S UP! To all the new followers, thank you for joining this mediocre blog! To all the people who viewed the site and decided not to follow, fuck you, I hope you slam your nugget pouch in a DVD case.
Let’s get this party started with a little music, shall we? I highly, HIGHLY encourage you to watch the following video as it’s only a minute long and features North Korea’s finest, strutting their stuff to Stayin’ Alive by The Bee Gees. Please watch it. For my Chick-fil-A fans out there, you’ll enjoy this video and it’s only 90 seconds long. I recommend you turn the sound down on this one given the commentary is forced and lacking. Next. WHERE ARE ALL MY FERRIS BUELLER’S DAY OFF FANS AT?!? I came across this gem in a Starbucks parking lot:
The sausage KING, of Chicago. Next story. And I may have shared this one before so please pardon me if that’s the case. I was traveling last Summer and stumbled across a lake-side restaurant called Kara’s Kountry Kitchen (aka KKK). Solid food and great scenery. All the trimmings, all the works. Just don’t expect to order the Blackened Fish. Okay, that was racist, but not nearly as racist as this:
Aggressive sign, especially for the healthcare sector. But as Stewie said, it’s good to have land. As you can see, I spent a night in the hospital and the hot water heater was massive! Nice not running out of hot water, although I did have to reduce the temperature as I was particularly gassy that evening and the the humidity was wafting the funk in a most unpleasant fashion. Word to the wise: always take cold, no-humidity showers when your busts stink like cow ass. This was partially my fault: I had nasty gas and explosive runs after a day spent munching on hospital food. To quote my bad-hombre Peachy Carnehan, I was shitting out tomorrow’s breakfast, tonight.
I’ll leave everyone with a final thought as they watch the North Korean Bee Gees song for the fourth time: many women (I’m including Ellen Pao in this bucket) will be quick to tell you that they make ~77 cents to the dollar for equivalent male work. Let’s dispel with this fiction that women don’t know what they’re doing. They know exactly what they’re doing. They’re undergoing a systematic effort to change workplace culture and make the office more like the rest of the world. To be clear, this 77% statistic IS FOR ALL WOMEN ACROSS ALL JOBS AND FAILS TO ACCOUNT FOR DIFFERENCES IN POSITION OR TITLE. One could point out that 16 year olds should make the same argument as their demographic makes considerably less than other peer groups. For the same job and same title, women make ~4% less than men.
And how do I live with myself knowing this fact to be true? Well, in a normally functioning society in equilibrium, people are paid (the “reward” or “return”) based on their contribution to the firm, accounting for the chance that they’ll leave and take with them these skills after significant financial investment by the employing firm (the “risk”). Women carry more risk given there’s an established history of having children (yes, men also carry this risk, albeit to a smaller degree based on empirical evidence) and leaving an employer after the firm has made a significant investment in the employee. But in life, EXPECTED RETURN IS PRICED BASED ON ANTICIPATED RISK. I’m ALL for equality within a logical, economic framework. But one could argue that if women want to make 100 cents on the male dollar, they should be willing to get spayed following the interview. Game. Set. Match.
Now I’m off to play with those fuzzy yellow balls.
What malady allowed you to develop fuzzy yellow balls?
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