Bank of America: The Epitome of Evil

For some reason, unbeknownst even to the Almighty him/her/itself... I trust my money and credit line to the evil, insidious, iniquitous, insipid pustule of a company known as Bank of America. As if they serve America....

No. Bank of America is a misanthropic sociopath of a corporation. In fact... they should be renamed. Instead of Bank OF America... it ought to be 'Bank which pulls down the American citizenry's trousers and proceeds to rape the shit out of the average Joe and Jane.' I think that is a befitting nomenclature, indeed. Because frankly... all actions taken by that fist-fucking corporation are anything but empathetic or philanthropic. When, all ye average, vapid masses, have the conglomerate bourgeoisie banks ever done anything to make your life easier? Remember the Depression, people! These assholes are the very same people that screwed us once; now, they exist on an entirely different echelon. God save us all.

Aside from being an industry of sycophantic megalomaniacs, hell-bent on stealing and extorting every possible nickel and dime from your pocket... they are also the largest congregation of moronic, morally-indigent stooges. Not to mention being wholly unhelpful and completely disrespectful and condescending. Every time I've been forced to call the customer "support" line... I end up speaking with a lackey housing the IQ of a discarded, used prophylactic who ends up making me loathe humanity that much more. As opposed to helping me solve my problem. It's not so much the incompetence that gets to me as it is the sarcastic and supercilious attitude with which I am dealt with.

A perfect example of this is my BoA credit card. Recently... within a few months ago, my old card hit its expiration date. So, I was automatically sent a new one. Which was fine; I used it for two months without a problem. And the renewed card wasn't set to expire for another few years. Yet this month... they issued a new one to me. Without thinking, I just assumed they were sending an unnecessary duplicate. Thus... I cut it up. But, low and behold... in their infinite "wisdom" Bank of America decided to change my digits by ONE single number. FOR NO APPARENT REASON! The result: the card on my person is essentially equal in value to a hobo's toenail. And the best is yet to come! Being Bank of America (one of the two largest banks in this rapidly dying country of ours) and me living in New York City (our nation's economic, cultural, artistic, and social epicenter)... the soonest they could get my NEW card to me is 5-7 business days. FIVE TO SEVEN BUSINESS DAYS. Can Bank of America be THAT inane and ineffectual that they cannot get a replacement credit card, they... BANK OF BLOODY AMERICA... to New York City in less than 5-7 days? Really... how demented is that?

If we're lucky... these devious Philistines will be drowned out in this economic recession of ours. Now I'm not usually a spiteful man... but these pinheads deserve the Guillotine! Off with their heads!

Generation: Anticipation

All things that come to pass must come to an end... so they say.

Looking back in our history, there have been some incredible cultural movements: the rucksack-toting, hitch hiking Bohemian bodhisattva Beats, the West Coast flower-child, LSD hippie craze, the fuck-all freedom and grunge of New York punk in the '70s, ecstasy crazed ravers in the '90s. So many I can't begin to name or remember. The point is... so many different counter-cultures have come and gone, each with their unique style, music, and general attitude... its hard to even keep track. Thus enters the social tradition of generational monickers! Generation X, Generation Next (thank you inane corporate sycophants at Pepsi for that one), MTV Generation... some catchy term so that newspapers and conservative pundits have something to bitch about and socio-anthropologists two decades later have something to study.

That brings us to today. This generation. My fellows and peers who are gradually dwindling from the academic system... dispersing out into the nonsensical maelstrom of full-time employment. I've heard us called the Millennial Generation and, thanks to Newsweek, Generation 9/11. Frankly... I have my issues with both of them. I think that grouping us mid-eighties rejects with the dilettantes of the later nineties makes no sense, because our influences were totally different. So Millennial is out. Generation 9/11 is, aside from being fucking morbid and totalitarian, too late. And although I was already a rampant degenerate by the time I hit high school, as most of my compatriots seemed to have been as well... it wasn't until I hit college and my twenties that I entered into myself. So I make my claim that this generation, my generation, has made its definition in our early twenties. 

And what are we? I walk around the preciously hip streets of Greenwich Village, the Lower East Side, and SoHo... and I see an entire generation of people simply waiting. Waiting for something to happen. Waiting around in Starbucks, drinking disturbingly overpriced imitation coffees. Waiting around in Washington Square Park smoking clove cigarettes while playing pawn-shop purchased guitars. Waiting around in bars and dives, minds warped on all sorts of drugs and booze. I assume now, you catch my drift. We are a generation utterly devoid of purpose and motivation. At this point, it feels like life is a generic blueprint. Over-privileged and under-appreciative yuppie by-products who attend colleges and universities, only as a means to secure a job. Job obtained, they then collect a family and possessions. And then they're dead.

The problem is lack of interest. We're a generation that consciously wants to do the bare minimum in order to get by, just so we can then leave our "lives" and kick back into the world of frivolous excess, where consequence and responsibility don't mean shit. But you older, "wiser" generations can't criticize us because frankly... it's your fault. You had your great fights and your great causes, and OUR whole lives we've heard about the virtue of integrity and hard work. Guess what, you antiquated, pedantic, obtuse narcissists..... we've had nothing to go on. There has never been an exceptionally poignant cause to get behind, and we're taught self-preservation and interest from the get go, so we really don't care.

iPods and cappuccinos. Unemotional sex and cigarettes. Cocaine and indie rock concerts. Cheap drinks and cheaper thrills. This is our generation. Like it or not... this is what the world has come to. Rapidly we are taking the reigns from your hands and taking charge. God save us all...

Superbowl Masterbation: The Game That Wouldn't End; John Madden Single-Handedly Kills the Environment

The Superbowl. The epitome of do or die games. The apex of American football, played each year against the (supposedly) best teams in the league. And yet... why is it this year was almost painful to watch? Scratch that... was like having your kidneys removed without anesthesia by a pack of black-market organ thieves down an alleyway somewhere in Chinatown (any one of them throughout the U.S.). And why, do you ask? Simple: both teams sucked, and the entire game was an act of futility.

Now in previous years, even when my team was not in the finals, I have witnessed Superbowls that were astounding to watch; true examples of incredible football. But those days seem to have gone. Aside from last year, for obvious reasons, I find that the only enjoyable Superbowls have involved the New England Patriots. Obviously there is high degree of bias in my claim, but at the same time... I think my opinion is completely valid. When the Pats lined up against the Rams in 2002, no sports caster/announcer in their right mind picked them to come even remotely close. And yet, the ultra-underdog Patriots upset the Marshal Faulk-backed Rams in a fantastic game. Even if you were not a New England fan, it was one hell of a game to watch. The next time around, they faced the Carolina Panthers. The Panthers had gone 1-15 the previous year, then went on to face the Pats in the Bowl. And it was a hard fought, smash-mouth game. Again, a solid example of what championship football is all about. Finally, the very next year... the Patriots faced the Philadelphia Eagles. This one seemed to be for all the marbles. I mean come on folks! They were the defending champs!! And everyone outside of New England wanted to see Brady and his cohorts fail. Which they didn't. They put the fear of God into the Eagles (which, by the way... I loved. I was in Syracuse, NY for that game... former school to Donovan McNabb. So I had to listen to dozens of elitist Westchester bastard-children go on and on about how they were rooting for their "schoolmate").

But I think it goes beyond lacking the presence of the Patriots. The Cardinals, despite being referred to as a team of destiny this year, were always mediocre. And they're from the NFC which is always such an easier division compared to the AFC. Then the Steelers. That putrid, puss-drained yellow and black colored team... led by a literal Neanderthal with a wretched name. There were no great names in that game (aside from Arizona's Fitzpatrick, who is one hell of an oddity amongst the NFL) to cause psychotic excitement. And throughout the whole game, aside from a couple of big plays... it seemed as if nothing happened. There was no drama, no tension, no anxiety during the last few minutes of the game. Even when your team isn't in the running, the Superbowl should have every single viewers' stomach doing a limbo contest from Hell. Yet I, like my colleagues, was left greatly wanting. Bring back the Patriots, or find a good team dammit!

On a final note, I would like to point out how John Madden is, single-handedly, killing the environment. And this is caused by his armored-car, small locomotive sized bus he uses to tour the country every week. While I appreciate the concepts of aviaphobia, acrophobia, and claustrophobia... I don't appreciate Madden driving around the country for the entire duration of football season in a 45-foot gargantuan (which, point of note, includes a sauna, gourmet buffet, multiple TVs, satellite cable, etc. It's estimated worth is a whopping $800,000 for fossilized Fatima's sake!). He had to seek special permission to build that motorized beast, thanks largely to its insanely large gas tanks. He can hold something around 300 gallons. In a world were fossil fuels are both becoming harder to obtain AND rapidly increasing greenhouse gasses, albeit destroying the environment flat out... I'd say to John: "take a handful of xanax, you triple-chin, joweled mongoloid, pass out on the plane, and wake up when you're there!" What is the world coming to?

Ladies and Gentlemen... I Give You President Obama; When Did Newspeople Become Idiots?

Ladies and Gentlemen... on this most auspicious of days, allow me to happily give you our 44th president... Barack Obama. Goddamn that is sweeter to say than President-elect.

I, like most Americans (or at least I hope), was plugged in and turned on to watch the inauguration of our new president. Unlike the poor suckers who were planted in D.C. since the wee hours of the morning in wretchedly cold weather (those lucky, lucky bastards. And yes... G.W. I'm talking about you AND your camera!)... I was in the [relatively] cozy confines of my apartment... drinking hot coffee and listening to Brian Williams and Tom Brokaw comment on all details. Despite the cheap, insufficient excuse for heat in my building... it all seemed like a dream. And this is a dream that has unified not only our country; instead... it has unified our image as a nation undivided throughout the world. I personally love the concept that we've fulfilled the dream set forth 45 years ago by one of America's greatest. In your face, all you hypocritical racist bastards still out there in the world!

There was, however, something horribly wrong with the day. It was not the presence of master of evil Dick Cheney... it was not the awkward wave of silence that descended when the now former president emerged. It was... the news broadcasters. How in gangly God's gravy did Katie Couric become the lead anchor for CBS nightly news? Because of that position... she was covering the inauguration. And I have to say... I've never heard such MORONIC commentary since.........fuck! I can't come up with some cleaver analogy. Which means it was probably the WORST I've ever heard. I mean the woman called Steven Spielberg an "American dignitary." DIGNITARY! Are you goddamn serious? The man is a director... not some bourgeoisie aristocrat landowner from medieval Europe. Get your already limited vocabulary straight, Couric... you neophytic mongoloid! And by the way... just because you now wear glasses doesn't mean you look any more intelligent. You and your Sinead O'Connor haircut straight out of Chelsea can go straight to Hell or Florida! I mean this crazed barbarian interrupted someone from the NAACP just to state a fact that part of Obama's speech was from a song. She went so far as to say "Just a bit of trivia for you!" Does anyone else realize how stupid this woman is?!? I feel like a raving lunatic, because apparently no one else is stepping up to say anything about this talking foot warmer. So now I am. Hear me well, world: KATIE COURIC IS AN IDIOT AND DOESN'T BELONG WITHIN THROWING DISTANCE OF A NEWS DESK! Jesus Christ on a crouton... all this talking about that plastic-faced mannequin is making me have a caffeine fit. I need coffee.

The Holidays: XMas Melees, Shopping Mall Zoos, and a Whole Load of Nonsense

Well, it's that time of year again kiddies... (or at least it was when I wrote this belligerent tirade)...

Yes, yes... I'm talking about the holidays. Be it the ever Hallmarked Christmas, Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, Ramadan, Boxing Day, Festivus, or Chinese New Year... it's a time of celebration. Most of these annual occasions the exchanging of gifts and trinkets (or grievances...), followed up with the "ceremonial" feast. While it seems well and good and all... there is, thanks to our modern consumerism, a dark and seedy side to the holidays. I speak of course.........(feel that tension rising yet?)... of holiday shopping.

The other day (how quite past), like most lazy or forgetful goons... I went last minute shopping on Christmas eve. And where else does a procrastinator go other than the mall? Dozens upon dozens of useless shops... teeming with even more useless junk. The epicenter of superfluousness. A shopper's Jerusalem. But from the very beginning... it was pure madness. It starts in the parking garage. In such a frantic dash to buy... there are almost never any available parking spaces. So in a cacophony resembling New York City rush hour traffic, car horns and vulgarities flutter through the air like snowflakes. Grown men leave their cars and bash each other's faces into mashed potatoes over spot-poaching. Mothers and grannies flick off youngsters for stealing their parking. All in all... it becomes the end of civilized humanity. People revert back to primordial savages, hell-bent on cracking skulls open like chestnuts.

Once inside the uncontrollably diseased, albeit highly sterilized halls... it's like stepping into a zoo on an alien planet. The burned out, empty husks once known as people move about the stores like kodiak bears in a paddock; too depressed to live, but no way to die. While scanning window fronts, they catch glimpses of themselves; dried sweat crusted to their pale, clammy, sun-deprived skin makes them look like some creature from Norse mythology. In these mannequins you can see delirium, dementia, and desperation; the slightest interference or or obstacle to their psychotic crusade will send them swinging wildly or jumping off balconies onto the communal slop-bucket below called a 'Food Court.'

Moving into a specific store... it is like being checked into a mental hospital. The "patients" (which is a euphemism I've always loved) are the customers... and the wards are the employees. Dazed, doped, or in-need-of-medication shoppers drift aimlessly... their eyes agape and drool streaming from their mouths... searching through racks and shelves for discounted clothing. The minute one stops to show interest, the "nurses" descend upon them like carrion... pecking and clawing each other to get the sale. Overall... it is a level of barbary that cannot be matched by the most brutal Colosseum gladiatorial match from Ancient Rome. The comes the lines for checkout. Sometimes snaking around the store like some deranged model of Jormungand swallowing his own tail, the line is long enough for old people to die in before they ever see the end. Essentially... it's similar to a physical adaptation of a Chinese finger trap; the more you try... the worse it gets. So we are forced to be good test-monkeys. We wait in line like cracked-out gerbils waiting for food pellets... only to get to the end and SPEND our hard-earned money away. Now it that is not psychotic masochism... I don't know what is, folks.

Without a doubt, the greatest degree of insanity induced from holiday shopping is gift-wrapping. There are essentially three ways of doing this: having someone in the mall (be it store employee or the official wrapping center) do it for a fee, have an outside company (like this ridiculous British company that wraps poorly to simulate a husband's wrapping job)... or to grin and bear it and do it yourself!. I guess the fourth option is to say 'fuck wrapping paper! we waste too much as a society already for me to add more via unnecessary paper debris!' But that is a take not take very often as it can lead to arguments and bitterness on the part of spouses, children, and relatives. Thus... like the aggregation of rejects we be (yeah that's right folks! The founding folks of this fair nation were the unwanted bastards of Europe. For Christ's sake... the Dutch didn't even want them. So DEAL with it!), we spend hours of painstaking torture... almost as bad as the Haitian rattle torture... concealing our gifts behind sheets of flimsy, "decorative" paper. Only to savagely tear it apart like jackals working on a gazelle corpse days later. And we wonder why people think we're crazy...

In the end, I'd say that the true essence of holidays, here in the ol' U S of A has been completely lost. I mean how on earth does the supposed birth of Christ have any connection to a fat man who creeps around peoples' houses while they sleep annually? The answer, aside from the fact that December has nothing to do with Christ's birth (if the fellow did strut the earth once in his biblical Birkenstocks): THERE IS NO CONNECTION! Huzzah... what a surprise. Because this is America folks; we are the refuse of every country in the world. "Give me your poor, your poor, your huddled masses yearing to breathe free, the wretched refuse of your teeming shore. Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me." Our own Lady Liberty says it perfect. We are the derange, Rick James- superfreaks of the world. And we managed to kill God here, ousted and replaced by our own demigods: Apple, Nordstroms, Abercrombie & Fitch, and The Gap. Oh brother. Well... I guess it could be worse. That's why there's always next year!