For some time now, I've been thinking that advertisers-in-general don't hold the American population's level of intelligence in very high regard. (And if that comes as a shock to you, congratulations on finding this blog from your thatched-roof hut in the Amazonian jungle.)
But now they've gone too far.
Now they apparently think I can be trained like some sort of attention-starved canine.
What's next? Play dead for a 20% discount?!!?
Have you gone to the Almost the Truth Publishing FaceBook page and clicked "Like" yet? If so, you may have already seen these Wednesday morning status updates. If not...upon what art thou waiting, yon scallywag?
- Every time a bell rings, an angel
gets his wings...with extra sauce and a side order of fries.
- Old Mother Hubbard went to the
cupboard to get her poor doggie a bone. But Old Father Hubbard had put the
bones in the garbage, where they belong.
- And they all lived happily
ever--BWAHAHAHAAAA--sorry, couldn't say it with a straight face.
- As Saul Pieman once sang,
"there must be fifty ways to love your lever."
- CNN: Cable Neener-Neener
- To peach his stone.
- When I find myself in times of trouble,
Mother Mary comes to me speaking words of wisdom: "You idiot, what were
you thinking?!?"
- For scored and severed ears: oh
no...
- I'll tell you something; I think you'll understand when I say that something:
I think this soup is bland ♫♫♪
- Ohhhhhh...the weather outside is
frightful...RUN AWAY! RUN AWAY!
- And it's all because your mama don't
dance and your daddy don't stop, drop, and roll.
- Frankly, my dear, I don't give a
discount.
- Hewstun, we half a porbelm.
I can't remember what major metropolitan city I saw this in, but I'm pretty sure I do NOT want to be the person either answering, or feeling the need to place, that EMERGENCY call.
Creating personalized comics with the Bitstrips app on FaceBook is not a sickness.
Really, it's not.
I'M OKAY! I DON'T NEED ANY HELP!
Being the cutting edge hipster that I am (#sarcasm), I started a little something on the shared whiteboard at work. I invited my coworkers to "ruin" a movie by adding a word to its title.
Being the boring, non-creative piles of steaming compost that they are (#slightexaggeration), my coworkers ignored the whole thing and left me to come up with these on my own...
- Gone With the Breaking Wind
- The Shawshank Coupon Redemption
- The Dark Chocolate Knight
- Reality Star Wars
- It's a Wonderful Still Life
- Back Fat to the Future
- Singing in the Acid Rain
- The Dental Bridge on the River Kwai
- Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Cracker Barrels
- No Country Music for Old Men
- The Gift Return of the Jedi
- There Will Be Blood Pathogens
- E.T.: The Extra-Cholesterol Terrestrial
- The Passion Fruit of the Christ
And with thanks to Queen CanDo (#OneContributingCoworker) I've saved the best for last:
I've finally decided it's time to talk about something I've been keeping to myself for...well...my whole life, I guess.
This blog is usually reserved for the lighthearted and looney ramblings that slosh over the edge of my far-too-small brain, but recent revelations by prominent sports figures and entertainment icons and even some folks near and dear to me have given me the courage and motivation to finally admit to the world what I've known in my heart for so very long.
I am a heterosexual.
My first clue as to my orientation happened when I was only seven years old. I was completely and utterly enamored with my second-grade teacher, Mrs. Hunter. Of course, I never acted on my straight leanings until much later, but I knew then that I was just innately drawn to members of the opposite sex.
All through my elementary and even junior high years, I often wondered if anyone else felt the same way I did.
While always a "performer" unafraid of the spotlight, I was actually quite shy in personal situations. I never got the nerve to initiate a kiss with a girl until halfway through my freshman year of high school. Even after that first confirmation that I was not alone...that there really were other straight people at my school...my interactions with females were always furtive, experimental, and tinged with feelings of guilt and shame.
But now? Now it's all different. The world has changed. MY world has changed...and I'm finally ready to embrace the real me with no apologies to those who automatically fear and reject people who are different from them. I figure that's THEIR problem and it's time for me to stop letting what other people think influence what I know to be true about myself.
I'm straight and I'm proud...might even start an annual parade about it.
Ever vigilant in my search for the latest information in olfactory awareness, I was interested in reading the following "News from the World of Medicine" in the March 2014 issue of Reader's Digest.
Who's Sick?
Your Nose Knows
There's a subtle difference in the way sick and healthy people smell. In a recent experiment, researchers injected volunteers with a type of bacterial toxin known to activate the immune system [Almost the Translation: germs]. Another time, the participants were injected with just a saline solution. Both times they wore T-shirts. When another group sniffed scents extracted from the shirts, they rated those from the toxin batch as much more unpleasant.
Already I have questions. How much were these volunteers paid? And which was the more unpleasant task: getting injected with stuph or having to smell the injectees' Eau de T-shirt? And who thinks UP these research projects to begin with? And how much do THEY get paid?
One bright spot, according to the article: there seems to be a practical use for all this.
Researchers believe this finding may one day help contain disease outbreaks: Sensors at airports could screen out sick people, for example.
While I wish there had been a smell-induced weeding out of passengers on the last flight I took...especially the salami-eating guy who sat in front of me...I feel the need to wave the yellow flag of Look-Out-Your-Personal-Freedoms-Are-Being-Encroached-Upon. This will most certainly lead to odor profiling of a most heinous nature.
"Alright, ma'am, I'm going to have to ask you to step over here so our dog can sniff you a little better...Yes, his nose is registered as an official tool of Homeland Security and he has every right to stick it wherever he wants."
