This One's On Me
A little section dedicated to great ideas I'll never implement and advice for thought.  Feel free to steal any of the amazingly ingenious ideas for your own get-rich-quick scheme.  If you rip off old ladies, though, you're going to Hell for sure.


Dear Wrigley's Gum,
  You folks make Cool Green Apple flavored Extra Gum, and you have ads out touting it superior flavor lastability.  A girl piece of gum rejects an actual green apple (those fruits have the weirdest relationships) because her flavor, allegedly, lasts longer.  Now, I'm familiar with the concept of poetic license, as well as advertisers' penchant for exaggeration...
  But, people, you must have done turpentine shots before you came up with this angle.  You need to find something else to emphasize about this gum, because I personally timed the flavor, by casually sticking a piece in my mouth as I got out of my car in the Home Depot parking lot.  I hadn't even got to the section where they keep the wood when the last vestige of flavor disappeared.  Less than four minutes, to be sure.  So while it is true that the Home Depot is a soul-sucking hellhole that darkens every human life, it hasn't as a rule, sucked the flavor from any edible items I have consumed within it's evil walls.  But I digress...
  Please keep in mind, I have chewed a two-car-garage worth of Wrigley's in my life.  I love ya, and you will freshen my breath for years to come.  But, seriously, your next commercial for this underwhelming gum should tout it's...uh, it's...green color.
  I've never been a big fan of the Extra brand, but I get the 'sugar-free' part that some people want.  For my part, give me the old Wrigley's Spearmint, or Juicy Fruit.  I'll  even gnaw some Double Mint. By "gnaw", I mean, all gum donations are appreciated.

 
 
Dear United Dairy Farmers,
  I think it's great that you have little rewards for your customers.  Nothing like having to go back in time to get that $1.89 price for milk.  The best part is, no one who works for you gets paid enough money to care, so I'll get that milk for less than two bucks every time, like I did today, the 5th of July, with this very receipt.  I urge you to continue to pay less than Gandhi could live on, so that even the barest modicum of respect I give your employees is sufficient to get them to hold the door for me while I heist two cases of Bud Light and a pint of Mad Dog 20/20.  Grape of course.

Yours Truly,
DEBishop
Damned Gentleman 
-The Obvious Next Great Invention That You Should Invent-

  Since the viral spread of the Secret Kids Only Ringtone, the obvious market is for some form of Super Headset/Hearing Aid.  Teachers and people who hate kids can wear them around, both to locate the ringtone, and to send a reverse pulse that will change the ringtone to a loud replay of bodily functions.  This will effectively put that punk in his or her place.
Adults: 18,975,923...Kids: 3.
"I hate friggin' kids .  They suck."
-Betsy Ross
The latest update to this page has a "The Latest!"  tag immediately above it.  Or beside it.  Or in it's vicinity.  Move along...

I've Stood For All I Can Stand

  This time last year, the average American didn't give a damn about the immigration 'problem' in this country.  Then, all of a sudden, it was the only thing going on, and there was much gnashing of teeth and wringing of hands.  Congress picked up the scent and started ranting about immigration reform.  'Reform', in case you are unaware, is a well-established government term meaning 'Cumbersome and wasteful tax increases, mostly to give ourselves a raise'.
  Meanwhile, the bulk of America, in all its A.D.D. glory, proceeded to care about some totally other thing.  I forget what it was.  Suddenly, Congress seemed to stop paying immigration any mind. 
  This type of behavior reminds me of an incident which occurred whilst I was in the 101st Airborne.  My battalion was out on a field problem (war games) in the woods of Fort Campbell, Kentucky.  We had some sort of night assault thing going, and were in the process of pretending to kick each others' asses, when the whole scene was shut down, and all fake mayhem was halted.  We all dropped where we were, broke out some grub, and waited for 'the word' to trickle down to us grunts.  My great friend Mark and I huddled up and some proper grousing ensued. 
  Shortly, word did indeed come down, that some unfortunate private had lost the barrel of his Squad Automatic Weapon (SAW) during the melee.  Just the barrel, mind you.  Now, in the Army, when a weapon, or part of a weapon, is lost, all Hell breaks loose.  We once turned a 12 mile road march into a 20 mile road march in order to double back and find a .45 that some grunt had inexplicably lost.
  So, soon enough, here comes the private who's missing his barrel, followed by 10 or so officers of various rank.  This is way more brass than any trooper ever wants to be around, and they're following this private like he had them on a string.  All the while, the private is trying to figure out where, during all the running, shooting, jumping, etc., he lost his piece.  In the dark.  In the woods.  Woods with hefty undergrowth and a nightmare of groundcover. 
  On occasion, he would stop in some seemingly random spot and go, 'This is it!  This is the spot!  I remember that tree!'  Like any of the hundreds of trees around us were in any way memorable.  Dutifully, the brass would fan out and start kicking at the underbrush and shining their flashlights around, all pretense of noise and light discipline long gone.  As they did this, the private would wander off a little ways and be newly inspired.  'This is it!  Over here!  That rock looks familiar!'  And off would go the brass after this hapless kid.  You could almost here a 'Boing', like a rubber band snapping.
  This went on for quite awhile, and it was all we could do to keep from breaking out laughing.  Eventually they disappeared over the ridge on their merry quest, and we let it all out.  We would look at each other for weeks after that and go, 'This is it!', and point at some random thing.  It was always a laugh. 
  Congress reminds me of those officers.  And we, America, are the private.  We wake up one day and go, 'ACK!  Steroids in baseball!', and Congress obligingly rakes baseball over the coals for a week or two.  Before anything meaningful gets done, we wander off and suddenly it's," ACK!  Child pornography on the Internet!'  And, 'Boing!' here comes Congress.  But people, the VERY SECOND that an issue doesn't warrant their attention (which coincides exactly with the second that issue will not get them another vote), off they go to something else.
  How about this?  If you are a Congresshuman, or whatever's PC this week, you work 50 weeks a year like most of us.  You can have weekends off to make your stupid appearances and whatnot, and a two-week vacation, but that's it.  So on your first Monday, you will take up some issue, any ONE issue, and you will work on that ONE issue for a solid month.  If you have not dealt one way or the other with the issue in a month, you're all fired.  Well, all right, maybe you can stay.  But the issue is off the table for a year, period.
  On second thought, you don't get to pick the issue.  America does, like this:
  Everyone writes down their thing, be it gay babies or dogs pooping in the park.  Whatever.  Collect 'em, count 'em up, and rank the top twelve. 
  Twelve issues, twelve months.  Get to work, you lazy bastards.  If you haven't worked an issue out properly, it'll show up in the top twelve again next year, trust me.
  Another stupid problem simply solved.  You're welcome, America.
    So here's what got me on the subject in the first place.  Congress is back on the immigration thing again.  Since we the people have not gone back to caring about it, that can only mean one thing; Pork, and lots of it.  And the pigs are lining up at the trough.
  Here's the deal:  Since they couldn't pass any laws the last time they got wound up about immigration, they decided to implement just the parts of the plan that would allow them to tax us.  The main part being this Berlin Wall II thing they want to erect across the border.  Like that's going to stop those lousy Canadians.  Or whoever lives in Mexico, the border of which I speak.
  This frigging wall will cost millions and millions of our hard earned greenbacks, and will undoubtedly stop no one except legless midgets.  Legless BLIND midgets.  With no one to carry them over the border.
  Now, here's the great part.   This boondoggle is going to cost so much moolah that if Congress passes the whole bill, they'd have to raise your taxes.  No legislator in their right mind would raise your taxes less than two months from their election, so no worries, right?
  Guess again, sucker.
  Congress is only planning to pass the parts mandating that the wall be built.  But no mention anywhere in there about how it gets paid for.  That part gets left blank until after the election.
  Great plan, eh?
  That way, you go down and waste your stupid vote re-electing these tools, and as they're accepting the congratulatory calls in the days following the election, your taxes mysteriously go through the roof.  By the time they're up for re-election again, they will have done plenty of other stupid things to make you forget all about it, not including that election year's Porkapalooza.
  So, this year, I've decided to change my voting strategy.  Instead of trying to vote for the less incompetent of the pair of incompetent asses I have to choose between, I'm just going to vote for whoever isn't currently doing the job.  I'm calling it my 'All New Guys' plan.  I'm firing everyone whos in office right now, and if it's TWO new guys, like it is for Governor of Ohio...Hmmm.  The spineless Democrat or the Republican who thinks he's Jesus?
  Damn it, I need a new plan.  Maybe I'll sneak over the border into Canada, before they put up a wall.
Yes, I had a little fun with it, but I actually own this baseball card, and it really is from a set called "The Naturals".
You can't make that shit up.
Your tax money will be buying the poop scoop bags for the dog shown in the dog corridor.  Mine will pay the guy who does the scooping.  Thanks to the 'Guest Worker' program, that guy gets paid 23 cents of the $532.23 that Uncle Sam charges me.
"The vast majority of Iraqis want to live in a peaceful, free world.  And we will find these people and we will bring them to justice."
-Washington, D.C., October 2003