INFLUENTIAL IDIOCRACY

there are many aspects of our entire existence where we will make highly 

questionable choices before we ultimately kick the can...whether yer just some immature teenrage'n ejaculate'n oscar meyer weiner warrior try'na hide stock piles of crusty mummified tube socks buried in every nook and cranny of yer closet to some postmenopausal nightmare with her knickers in a knot try'n to recapture her dwindled youth by become'n the self appointed neighborhood nazi...

prevent'n someone deliver'n pizza to a customer in their cul-de-sac just cuz they're wear'n a TAYLOR SWIFT tee (oh and their skin color just happens to match the cuntasaurus's shit stained eyes) take'n chances with our own fate in hopes to garner a reputation as some sorta asinine bad-ass to yer plethora of non-existent on-line "friends" and flocks of fuckless fucks is an all too unfortunate socially accepted norm these days

in the late 60's there was the simple amusement of 2 innocent tempered 

glass balls attached to a rope called "CLACKERS" that basically were invented to annoy the fuck outta yer parents durin' their swingers nite with the neighbors until you were told to go outside with that infernal racket and all was fine and dandy until the solid shiny orbs garnered a merried of injuries from blackened eyes...broken noses to near death experiences

by the 70's the backyard became an all out assault with the entire family  

and neighborhood thanks to the colorfully coated missiles of death innocently labeled "LAWN DARTS" that paired you up in teams to launch yer ammo to the other end of the yard...hopefully hitt'n it into the confines of the targeted area placed on the opposite side (though if that one prissy pustule in pig tails was outside of their safe zone from yer school who always tries to make you look like some buffoon in ballet class that you play with only cuz they live on yer block...you made damn sure that they were the actual intended target) which was actually a reproduction stolen from the ancient Romans who 1st invented them called "PLUMBATA" back in 500 bc (and i'm pretty sure they weren't play'n around fer shits and giggles back then) however...eventually they were banned by 1988 due to the fact they caused over 6,000 hospital related injuries and 2 unfortunate deaths 

(this was also the last time i believe that some ballet snob tried to one up any unsuspect'n students in class)

when the 80's rolled around it was all about gett'n wet and wild and totally 

save'n money with the many over priced water parks and long lines out there on all those unbearably hot summer afternoons with yer own personal water slide in yer own backyard known as the "SLIP-N-SLIDE" which was an easy way to cool off on all those blister'n days when it felt like mother nature was have'n another one of her hot flash attacks...unfortunately it also resulted in many back injuries and broken teeth from not realize'n you don't dive into water slides like it’s a pool you fool just cuz there's water involved

if we could only go back to the careless yet sinister triple dog dare days!

(ummm...just an FYI...i had already invented that stunt in the back of my dad's yellow city pick-up truck in the winter of 1976...so there's still some ongoin' litigation over copyright infringements with the director of that flick to this day)

BUTT...here we are

with the rise of reality tv in the past 20 years send'n all of the great song 

write'n theme show composers straight to the unemployment line...

would regrettably bring the rise to the instant oatmeal fame via TIKTOK challenges and YOUTUBE pranksters gett'n as many views as possible along with a paycheck from corporate giants all cuz they can't deal with the value of an honest days pay by sling'n fries and frosty shakes fer cuntasaurus's behind a counter all day (like their predecessors before them had to)

 cuz that'll never get them their personalized Maserati by may they need fer their insta followers to gawk at...with the biggest of these insane challenges i ever heard about bein that of the tide pod challenge which were mostly influence'n kids between the ages of catastrophe to a cuntruffle to play russian roulette with their own life basically!

another one of these asinine challenges that i was completely outta the 

loop with was the idiotically insane fire challenge that consisted of douse'n parts of yer body with a flammable liquid then start'n yerself on fire while film'n it before it goes out...i'm almost positive (don't worry i got my results back last week...i'm still negative just like my outlook on life as a whole) that this one's called the non-cremation challenge but what do i know?

one that shocked the total shit outta me was the Nyquil chicken challenge

which i'm pretty sure was not intended to be associated in any way shape or form with Colonel Sanders secret recipe by any means

or YOUTUBER's try'na bug the complete and utter shit outta as many 

unaware shoppers or sidewalk strollers as possible just fer a knee jerk reaction to get as many "likes" as possible and a payday on their channel which consists of millions of lobotomized brain dead followers (though it's totally childish) be that as it may...back in april of this year one particular piss ant YOUTUBER did his damndest to annoy the fiddler's fuck outta some food service delivery guy who was pick'n up an order fer a customer in a Virginia mall when some 21 year old dipshit with a death wish got in his face over a stupid audio record'n to get this worker's reaction to post on his social media channel...however...

just like in baseball...3 strikes means yer out and that's exactly what happened when food courier Alan Colie gave this jackass jokester with 3 attempts to calmly yet sternly tell him to stop bein' an annoy'n asswipe until he was left with no other option so he pulled out his loaded pocket protector from his dish rag wind breaker and took the wind right outta the pain in the ass prankster with a single shot to the stomach

these pranksters and "influencers" wanna act like they're some sorta 

super power bad ass just cuz they're give'n an astronomical bank account to be as asshole and expect no accountability...the thing is Gen Z'er's...us Gen X'ers survived on a helluva lot less shit and hadda put up with a helluva lot more (without out any video proof to haunt us later on in life)  like try'n not to get 3rd degree burns from endless hours slide'n down lucifer's metal tongue durin' the boil'n hot summers of the 1970's and the 1980's...

include'n cling'n on fer dear life every time we decided to hop aboard the wheel of death in the park...so trust me...a large portion of us Gen X'ers ain't putt'n up with ANY of yer fuckery these days so think twice before come'n up with the latest "must do" influential/stupid bullshit pranks!

here’s a lil advice fer all you wannabe personal fortune 500 machines 

 out there...you outta be heed'n the words of one KATHY BATES as she so calmly put it in "FRIED GREEN TOMATOES" before it’s too late!

now GET OFF MY DRESS!

ps...if you wanna try somethin' a lil dare'n and make an actual difference

in yer demeaner...why not vote fer this marvelous matriarch by click'n here

TIME TO MAKE TO DOE...NUTS!

we've all had those utter mundane jobs at some point in our life...up to 

and include'n those that begin with blow...that you know goin into it is gonna work yer last nerve...nonetheless...outta sheer laziness...yer always hope'n fer the best in the end

even though...9 times outta 10...you know yer just gonna end up punch'n into Charlie's chocolate factory (call it intuition if you must)

i believe it was one Mr. Johnny Paycheck who sang the anthem fer all

those 9 to 5'ers out there that wished they were doin somethin' else with their professional life financially (like whale gutt'n in the arctic perhaps) with his 1977 hit 

"TAKE THIS JOB AND SHOVE IT"

live'n the luxurious lifestyle of an unintentionally internationally unknown

perform'n illusionist of yer own universe...ain't all what it's cracked up to be...it is...as one might say (that one bein' ME of course) albeit an extremely far far F-A-R stretch...though very akin in the same manner to the immortal words once muttered by everyone's fav-o-rit country chanteuse herself...

Mrs. Parton...many moons ago..."it's costs a lot of money...to look this cheap!" however...though i'm back on the hunt fer another position to fulfill my destiny and my piggy bank...

i DO NOT plan on suffer'n the same fate that i have in the past with past positions (whether it's behind a desk or behind a behind) so lemme go back in time

when i started this bumble'n blog of whimsical words of witty non sense

over 13 years ago...i was work'n in the fraud department of some downtown financial industry that would simply become to be known as Twin City Fuckers to me! (which has since been bought out by another financial institution)

some could contemplate as to why i would suffer such indignity fer 10

long and arduous years that i suffered at the hands of said company...cuz to be quiet honest...a monkey really could've done my job if it was trained properly...i guess the only real answer i could come up with was that i had unfortunately give'n myself one too many home lobotomy perms in the 90's...though i would attribute it mostly to the fact that i enjoyed the comradery i had with MOST of my co-workers...i said MOST!

BUTT...lemme back it up to the beginn'n

i was eventually picked outta the rejected cattle call of applicants and would become the newest fraud analyst to join the team and fer the most 

part...i caught on pretty quickly to the position...my 1st boss (name withheld due to the fact that she's not worth mention'n) well...except to mention the H-E-double hockey stix she would desperately try to put me thru over the years to get me to quit or she would desperately try to write me up so she could eventually fire me...nevertheless i was always one step ahead of that crusty and callus colostomy bag

i've learned over the years that you don't have to like everyone you work 

with...include'n yer boss...you learn to just suck it up when yer not yer own boss...co-exist with yer co-workers and get the work done if you want to eat 3 square meals a day...have a roof over yer head (in order to get head someplace outside of the back of their bronco) and buy some pretty things

after many months of learn'n all the nooks and crannies of my position...

i had FINALLY became a contestant as one of the company's popular ass kissers...referred to as employee of the month and was beyond excited since my average haul was roughly between $25g's to $50g's in fraud coins i got back fer the company...i assumed that the powers that be would be highly impressed and i would bequeath a handsome reward fit fer a queen of my stature...so i was ready to press my luck!

OMG...OMG...OMG...what did i win?...what did I WIN?...WHAT DID I WIN?

a new car?

an all inclusive weekend vacation at the charming Cabrini-Green estates in Chicago, IL?

M-O-N-E-Y?

oh no...unfortunately all those home lobotomy perms affected my thought

 process...cuz after the corporate gimp finished feed'n from the daily donut trough...she would spend 2 minutes pick'n from the company's list of pre-approved speeches...print it off

then corralled the cubicle cattle around in a circle with her donut bell...to recite said speech to the ass kisser of the month
(which...how lucky was i?)

and proceeded to present me with a printed out version of her speech and my very much anticipated reward

WAIT!! WHAAA?? an unintentionally internationally unknown perform'n 

illusionist of my own universe actually won a FUCK'N $2 coupon off popcorn on the skyway level?

i thought at any minute...Ashton Kutcher was gonna pop outta the stock 

room and mutter that annoy'n phrase of his...unfortunately...there would be no hidden camera man jump'n out from behind the copy machine to get my reaction or any visit from Ashton

i would have to endure this utter humiliation fer the next 6 months in a

row cuz i was THAT good (i got the bedpost notches to prove it kittens) this was the ACTUAL proof that i still held onto as a reminder to NEVER work fer another shitty and cheap ass company again as long as i breath (cuz believe me...the pay...along with my first boss...were way below my standard of life)

odd thing about this phony fiasco was that a select few of my co-workers

 were a bit cranky in their neatly pressed culottes cuz i kept winn'n month after month...until one co-worker finally beat my winn'n streak...unfortunately...i would once again win the follow'n month after and by then had decided to give away my oscar meyer wiener winn'ns to those less unworthy...i mean unfortunates and "cash" in my asinine awards fer the whole department

turns out though that by the time i went to cash in all of my $16 worth of rewards...the fuck'n biz would no longer be accept'n my worthless winn'ns cuz...ummm...they went out of biz!

well...needless to say...this DID NOT go over very well when one particular

CASPER crusade'n co-worker heard of this atrocity!

a year would go by before i was "nominated" by my peers as the latest

 ass kisser...i mean...employee of the month once again (since they changed the rules) though to be honest...i received said nomination only cuz i was the last one they never voted fer in my department (jealousy is not a pretty color on the cankle crowd ...no matter what the season may be) only this time...there would be no popcorn consolation coupon to collect and no longer was this charade parade left to just our immediate department...cuz now they had decided to make a mockery of you by make'n it a multiple company department fiasco where you hadda walk down the plank of yer peers like you were accept'n some sorta fuck'n golden globe (ummm...even if it were made of imitation gold that would'a been a much needed improvement)

no...instead...after the corporate gimp gave you accolades and praise fer yer obvious hard work done (and we ALL did collectively on a daily basis mind you) you were gifted a bag of cray paper and inside the cray paper

some halloween candy they obviously stole from their kids bucket from the previous year...

a juice box...AAAAAND (hold on to yer herniated disks)

a pop tart...NOT multiple tarts mind you to pop...ONLY THE ONE SET!

GET THE FUCK OUT! one might say to one self...and trust me...i could 

barely contain my shock and awe when i first experienced a co-worker's humiliate'n perp walk down the aisle to accept their "award" cuz when it was my turn to accept mine on said day...i made damn sure to call in sick with a hideous case of chernobyl mononucleosis cuz i was absolutely not gonna partake in zero part of this sham scam! 

though i would unfortunately have to collect my prize the follow'n day that was sitt'n quietly in my cubicle...neatly gifted in a non recyclable bag that has been sitt'n forlornly in the back of my closet all these years until i photographed it as exhibit B fer this blog...before donate'n it to the waste management system outside my shitbox

i would last another 3 more years cuz i have always been loyal regardless

 of the company practices...before finally call'n it quits cuz they thankfully moved to the burbs...and i'm not sorry in the slightest cuz that just ain't in my vocab...now GET OFF MY DRESS!