Millennials Are Shameful

Dear Millennials,

Why are you ruining America? Every week, I see another mediocre business with falling sales suffer because of your higher standards. Who do you think you are? Why do you get to snub crappy products and services when they’ve been good enough for other generations? Talk about being entitled.

Why aren’t breasteraunts like Hooters and Twin Peaks good enough for you? Aren’t their double D entendres sophisticated enough for you? Hooters – get it? They’re talking about boobs, but pretending that it’s something about owls. That’s gold. And who doesn’t like a good boob pun with a side of wings? Anarchists and pagans, that’s who.

And what have Sears and JCPenny ever done to you? Their clothing and linens may be inspired by wall paper from the 1980’s, but it keeps things covered. Isn’t that what Americans need? To keep things covered? What more do you want?

And let’s talk about houses. Why aren’t you buying the biggest one you can find with your shrinking real wages? It’s un-American to wait. Please do your civic duty and take out a mortgage far above your means to support the poor bankers. They need a nice Xmas too.

In short, Millennials, mediocre industries are suffering and it’s your fault. Stop being selfish. Share your pitiful paycheck. Who cares about your suffocating student loans? A little more credit card debt never hurt anyone. Buy mediocrity and make America second rate again.

Sincerely,
A Cranky Old Person Who Did Everything Better Than You Did
#ThanksALotMillenials
#GetOffMyLawn

This Is Really How Butter Was Discovered. Really. Not Fake AT ALL.

A long time ago, people didn’t have grocery stores.  They had to hunt for their food outside.  It was messy and sweaty, but the people didn’t have a choice.  If you wanted to eat, you had to take down a boar.

One day, a woman got tired of running and sat down.  She wondered if there was a better way and spotted a field of grains in the distance.  It occurred to her that plants didn’t put up much of a fight.  You could just pluck a plant and go.  Hence, bread was born.

The people rejoiced.  They forced the woman into a hut to make bread.  No one had to spend every single day running after a wild boar that refused to cooperate with the slaughter.  The villagers could harvest grain from a field that didn’t run, pound it into flour, and make the woman bake the bread.  Times were good.

Centuries of bread eating passed.  And after a while, the bread got old.  Don’t get me wrong. People were grateful that they didn’t have to run after their food every single day anymore. But after a few days, the bread got a little dry.  And sometimes, the people wanted something with a little more pizzaz than just bread and boar.

On another random day, a villager was running from a bear in the woods.  This person, known as the Milker, was responsible for milking the local cows or oxen or whatever uddered creature they had in the fields back then. Not wanting to sacrifice a single drop of freshly expressed milk, the Milker fashioned a small lid with a handle out of animal bones lying on the ground.

Suddenly, the Milker heard a noise coming from the woods.  It sounded like a bear, so the Milker covered the milk jug, strapped it to his chest, and took off.  In his haste, he didn’t notice that the lid was upside down.  The jug was sealed tight, but the milk swirled around the handle.

The Milker ran as fast as he could, because bears are fast.  The milk sloshed around in the jug, never spilling but repeatedly hitting the handle.  The Milker was too self-absorbed to notice what was happening to the milk.  All he could think of was escaping the claws of an angry bear.

The bear, which was really a raccoon, eventually left the Milker alone.  When the Milker reached the village, the milk was still.  Sweaty and breathless, but still curious, the Milker sank to the ground and pried open the jar.  To his amazement, the milk was solid.

The villagers wanted to stone the Milker for ruining the milk, but a wise old person suggested that the punishment for the Milker’s stupidity was eating whatever was in that jug.  They dragged the Milker to the town square, and force fed him chunks of dry bread slathered with whatever evil was in the jug.  To their dismay, the Milker didn’t die from it.  He actually appeared to enjoy it.

A little girl wanted to try it, so because she was useless, they let her try it too.  One by one, each villager sampled what was in the jug.  It was amazing.  They unstrapped the Milker from the flogging pole and told him that he would make more if he knew what was good for him.  So, he left the village to find the raccoon and recreate the process.

Hence, butter was born.  And from that day forward, the people ate their dry, stale bread with butter.

 

 

 

 

 

What Is A “Pearl Clutcher?”

Back in the olden days, when society was civilized, real ladies wore pearls. Their lives revolved around having babies, churning butter, worshipping husbands, making sandwiches, and staring lovingly at their children. Real ladies never complained. They took Xanax, and did everything while remaining perfectly coiffed. It was a lovely time to be alive.

Society was in perfect harmony. Men worked, while women made babies and sandwiches. There was no confusion. People knew their places. If a woman tried to disrupt societal balance by thinking, that impulse was promptly squashed by the neighborhood gossips. These fine ladies clutched their pearls and shamed any free-thinking hussies right back into the kitchen. All shoes were removed from the hussy’s house. Shamed and shoeless, women had no choice but to return to the kitchen barefoot, and hopefully, pregnant.  The system worked.

And then it all went to hell. While the men went to war, the women left the house. They wore pants. They worked in factories. They riveted like a hoochie mama named Rosie. By the time men came back from fighting about stuff, the good old days were gone. Women wouldn’t stop wearing pants. Some women even did yoga in them. And no one made sandwiches anymore.

Which brings us to today. We’re all living in a sad modern world, with a bunch of pants-wearing women who don’t make sandwiches anymore. And it’s up to indignant members of society like myself to shame them back into submission.

Hence, through an all-natural, organic, toxinz-free, dolphin-doula supported labor, Pearl Clutchers Anonymous was born.

Featured Content: What Is A “Pearl Clutcher?”

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Back in the olden days, when society was civilized, real ladies wore pearls. Their lives revolved around having babies, churning butter, worshipping husbands, making sandwiches, and staring lovingly at their children. Real ladies never complained. They took Xanax, and did everything while remaining perfectly coiffed. It was a lovely time to be alive.

Society was in perfect harmony. Men worked, while women made babies and sandwiches. There was no confusion. People knew their places. If a woman tried to disrupt societal balance by thinking, that impulse was promptly squashed by the neighborhood gossips. These fine ladies clutched their pearls and shamed any free-thinking hussies right back into the kitchen. All shoes were removed from the hussy’s house. Shamed and shoeless, women had no choice but to return to the kitchen barefoot, and hopefully, pregnant.  The system worked.

And then it all went to hell. While the men went to war, the women left the house. They wore pants. They worked in factories. They riveted like a hoochie named Rosie. By the time men came back from fighting about stuff, the good old days were gone. Women wouldn’t stop wearing pants. Some women even did yoga in them. And no one made sandwiches anymore.

Which brings us to today. We’re all living in a sad modern world, with a bunch of pants-wearing women who don’t make sandwiches anymore. And it’s up to indignant members of society like myself to shame them back into submission.

Hence, through an all-natural, organic, toxinz-free, dolphin-doula supported labor, Pearl Clutchers Anonymous was born.