If you live in a big city (or probably any city for that matter), you more likely than not have observed the phenomenon of urban cemeteries. Not being a historian of any sort myself, I can only assume that these plots were originally suburban graveyards that were swallowed up in urban sprawl. After all, who would intentionally plan to put a bunch of dead people on prime real estate? Look at the ancient Egyptians. They dumped their bodies in the desert, albeit in very elaborate tombs. As royal and rich as they might have been, not even the pharaohs were getting buried any place that might potentially have condos on it one day.
Personally, I find urban cemeteries creepy. I'm not a superstitious person. Hell, whether or not I believe in God really depends on how I'm feeling that day. I'm equally divided in a belief in the afterlife. I don't have any proof of it, but I don't have any proof to the contrary either. I'm not particularly sure that I would even want proof. Mostly because it would involve seeing someone dead in a setting that does not involve a) a funeral home, b) a video will or c)their corpse being poked with a stick.
I won't lie. It would freak me out. I don't care who it is and I don't care how benevolent the visitation might be. I want a dead human in my house (corporeal or incorporeal) about as much as I want a dead skunk in my house. Unless the dead human happens to be one of a number of ex-bosses, in which case I'd mount the skull on the porch as a warning to intruders.
But just to be on the safe side, I've informed a number of family members that I'd prefer not to enjoy their company after they are deceased. It wouldn't be anything personal . . .in most cases. Anyway, I think 40 or 50 years together is a good run. I hate it when the living overstay their welcome. Can you imagine having that one annoying aunt or uncle rattling chains or whatnot in your hallways all night and having to, yet again, figure out a polite way to tell them to get the fuck out? Death should be the end of clueless, pushy relatives. There are no messages from beyond the grave that are of any import to me except maybe those regarding money, and even then only in the form of cash or jewelry. In which case, a note or a map taped to the refrigerator will be sufficient and a second visit will not be warranted.
That being said, I think it makes sense that I have even less desire to see some random ghostly mofo traipsing around my house or apartment than I do a deceased relative. So living in close proximity to any cemetery is probably out of the question for me. I don't care how nice the neighborhood is otherwise. Even if there are no such things as ghosts, the bottom line is there is basically a field of rotting corpses across the street. I don't know about anyone else, but that isn't really a big selling point for me.
Plus I've been wrong about a lot of things in my life. I'd rather not find out the hard way that I've been wrong about this too via a shrieking severed head floating over my bed every night at exactly 1:51a.m. Believe me, with my luck, this is the sort of manifestation I'd get. Honestly, if it was going to be doing that anyway, I 'd just go ahead and request it start up around 6 a.m. or so; eliminate the need for an alarm clock. Couldn't hurt right? Unless, of course, it was one of those hauntings that you can't interact with. Then that room would become the new guest room.
I'll admit, there's a sort of eerie beauty to any graveyard. That doesn't mean that I want to look out my bedroom window everyday at it, though. And what happens if there's a zombie apocalypse? Guess where the zombies are going first. That's right. The singles complex across the way. It'd be like the zombies had a Burger King next door. Their way, right away.
A zombie apocalypse is reason number 17 on my list of why everyone should have a double-barreled shot gun in their house. But that's a whole other blog.
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
Sunday, September 25, 2011
The Golden Years
I am 30 years old, very shortly going on 31. I keep saying that I'm old. I have some gray hairs, wake up with the occasional mysterious ache in a miscellaneous body part and have seen my metabolism drop to that of a dead fish; but I'm not really old. I've matured like a fine wine single malt Scotch one of those stinky fancy cheeses that are supposed to be good but taste like ass.
I guess what I'm trying to say is that my 20s are over, but I'm comfortable with that. Good riddance. What a shitty decade.
Anyhoo, now that I'm a "responsible adult", I find my thoughts turning more and more towards the future; specifically retirement. Yes, I am already looking forward to retirement. Working is for suckers. However, as I have become quite partial to food, shelter, clothing and Impressionist art; work will be mandatory for at least the next 35-37 years. . . if not longer. The government keeps raising the retirement age hoping that most of us will be dead (or damn near it) by the time we're old enough to collect full benefits. As if you can live solely on social security anyway. At the rate the cost of living is going up, retirees are going to be torching their houses to get their hands of some of that sweet, sweet insurance fraud cash.
As of this year, I have absolutely nothing saved. There are several reasons for this, the biggest being that I had a string of crap jobs in my 20s that a)had me living from paycheck to paycheck and b) were independent businesses that didn't have retirement plans for employees to pay into. Now, as I've said, at this point in my life, I have roughly another 40 years of work ahead me. That is assuming, of course, that I'm not bussing tables until the day I drop dead. But time flies. One day you're in high school and the next day you're crashing through the front of a KFC because you thought the accelerator was the brake and your kids were too chickenshit to make you stop driving sooner. It's time for me to really start thinking about how I'll be funding my golden years
With the markets being what they are, 401Ks and IRAs are iffy right now. Not that I have any money to put into either one of those anyway, but I can think of much more entertaining ways to piss money away than watching it evaporate in a stock market free fall. And I think a lot of people are in the same boat. Either they've just not been in a position to save money or have had to dip into their savings during the recession (you know, the one that allegedly ended in 2008/2009) just to get by.
For myself, unless some things change, I'm going to have to get really creative. Tin cans of cash buried in the yard and Crown Royal bags full of pennies are just not what they used to be fiscally speaking. Unless, of course, I take that money to my local Indian casino and bet everything on a hand of blackjack. Hey, you never know. One lucky night could get me a nice little hoveround and buy a condo in Florida, all in one fell swoop.
Then, of course, there's the backup plan of three or four generations of lower and middle class Americans: lottery tickets. An investment of a couple dollars a day could potentially see me with a big house, five cars and my very own episode of "The Lottery Ruined My Life". And what have I got to lose, really? Sure, I could put a dollar a day in a savings account for 40 years, but even with interest I'd barely end up with $16,000 by the time I retire. If I have to bail even one grandkid out jail, that cash is history. Then, in the event that no one in the family ends up being a felon, I could have the misfortune of being one of those people that lingers on and on well into her 90s. $16,000 isn't going to last very long. Then what? I end up in a state nursing home where the nurses occasionally forget to wheel the old people in out of the rain, that's what.
Then there's always the good old have-a-bunch-of-kids-and-see-if-anyone-makes-it-big strategy. NBA/NFL/MLB/RAPPER/SINGER/NASCAR kid could set me up really nice. Hell, I'd even take WWE kid. There's guys in there that have been successfully "wrestling" 20-25 years. By the time the kid is Ric Flair old and not really making money anymore, I'll probably be dead anyway.
Finally is the last (and least attractive) resort of actually continuing to work well into my 70s and 80s.
I suppose it's lucky for us all the demand for drug mules never seems to decline.
I guess what I'm trying to say is that my 20s are over, but I'm comfortable with that. Good riddance. What a shitty decade.
Anyhoo, now that I'm a "responsible adult", I find my thoughts turning more and more towards the future; specifically retirement. Yes, I am already looking forward to retirement. Working is for suckers. However, as I have become quite partial to food, shelter, clothing and Impressionist art; work will be mandatory for at least the next 35-37 years. . . if not longer. The government keeps raising the retirement age hoping that most of us will be dead (or damn near it) by the time we're old enough to collect full benefits. As if you can live solely on social security anyway. At the rate the cost of living is going up, retirees are going to be torching their houses to get their hands of some of that sweet, sweet insurance fraud cash.
As of this year, I have absolutely nothing saved. There are several reasons for this, the biggest being that I had a string of crap jobs in my 20s that a)had me living from paycheck to paycheck and b) were independent businesses that didn't have retirement plans for employees to pay into. Now, as I've said, at this point in my life, I have roughly another 40 years of work ahead me. That is assuming, of course, that I'm not bussing tables until the day I drop dead. But time flies. One day you're in high school and the next day you're crashing through the front of a KFC because you thought the accelerator was the brake and your kids were too chickenshit to make you stop driving sooner. It's time for me to really start thinking about how I'll be funding my golden years
With the markets being what they are, 401Ks and IRAs are iffy right now. Not that I have any money to put into either one of those anyway, but I can think of much more entertaining ways to piss money away than watching it evaporate in a stock market free fall. And I think a lot of people are in the same boat. Either they've just not been in a position to save money or have had to dip into their savings during the recession (you know, the one that allegedly ended in 2008/2009) just to get by.
For myself, unless some things change, I'm going to have to get really creative. Tin cans of cash buried in the yard and Crown Royal bags full of pennies are just not what they used to be fiscally speaking. Unless, of course, I take that money to my local Indian casino and bet everything on a hand of blackjack. Hey, you never know. One lucky night could get me a nice little hoveround and buy a condo in Florida, all in one fell swoop.
Then, of course, there's the backup plan of three or four generations of lower and middle class Americans: lottery tickets. An investment of a couple dollars a day could potentially see me with a big house, five cars and my very own episode of "The Lottery Ruined My Life". And what have I got to lose, really? Sure, I could put a dollar a day in a savings account for 40 years, but even with interest I'd barely end up with $16,000 by the time I retire. If I have to bail even one grandkid out jail, that cash is history. Then, in the event that no one in the family ends up being a felon, I could have the misfortune of being one of those people that lingers on and on well into her 90s. $16,000 isn't going to last very long. Then what? I end up in a state nursing home where the nurses occasionally forget to wheel the old people in out of the rain, that's what.
Then there's always the good old have-a-bunch-of-kids-and-see-if-anyone-makes-it-big strategy. NBA/NFL/MLB/RAPPER/SINGER/NASCAR kid could set me up really nice. Hell, I'd even take WWE kid. There's guys in there that have been successfully "wrestling" 20-25 years. By the time the kid is Ric Flair old and not really making money anymore, I'll probably be dead anyway.
Finally is the last (and least attractive) resort of actually continuing to work well into my 70s and 80s.
I suppose it's lucky for us all the demand for drug mules never seems to decline.
Friday, September 23, 2011
Unemployment Compensation Myths
According to many financial analysts and other fancy economic-type folks, we've been out of the recession for about a 2-3 years now. The U.S. economy apparently didn't get the memo, though. Perhaps it was out collecting cans to pay it's electric bill. But wherever the miscommunication occurred, many people continue to feel the effects of the recession and may continue to for years to come. While we are allegedly experiencing economic growth, the job market is just not there yet. It's dead. I mean, real dead. You that funky smell coming from under the hood of your car that you thought maybe might be a dead squirrel stuck up by the water pump ? That's the job market.
People that had job security 5 years ago are now people that would kill to be the McDonald's employee that spits in the Big Mac of the rude asshole at the drive-thru window. But until the job market recovers, many are being forced to subsist on unemployment compensation. I mean, we've all paid into it, right? Might as well get some of it back. Otherwise, it's just more money we've worked for that we're pissing away. *cough, cough* social security *cough, cough*
However, there are many negative connotations associated with drawing unemployment, mostly perpetuated by people who haven't ever had to do it. The misconceptions are astounding and, sometimes, downright insulting.
So, just for the record for anyone that may half-way care:
1) No one WANTS to collect unemployment. Well. . . most people don't want to collect unemployment, but the edge of financial ruin is certainly not to place to get all uppity. You gotta do what you gotta do. F.Y.I. there's plenty of easier ways to lay around and get a government hand-out. State unemployment departments are full of shit and you have to jump through all kinds of hoops to get and keep your benefits. . . which is actually fairly ridiculous considering you're trying to get money back that you already paid. It's like an extra-retarded income tax refund.
2) No one is ballin' on employment. This is the thing that gets me the most. People seem to think that people drawing unemployment are sitting around at home in a top hat and spats eating steak and lobster for dinner and laughing at all the suckers that went to work that day. Well, maybe some of them are. Though, personally, I pawned my top hat and spats for gas money like a year ago. I do still have a pretty spiffy monocle, though. Gotta have something to leave to the kids. . . assuming I can ever afford to have any.
But yeah. Basically, you're poor. Unemployment benefits are like 50% or less of whatever you made at work. So there's a good chance you're eating pork and beans with hotdogs cut up in it. That or good old Ramen: the breakfast, lunch and dinner of champions. Could also possibly end up being Thanksgiving and Xmas dinner until you find a job.
3) Unemployed people ARE looking for work. The unemployment department makes you. And even if they didn't, most people still would. Why? Because (and this is key), it's easier to just go work than collect unemployment. No. Really.
The problem is that you can't get what's not there. Looking for work in this economy is (for all you wrestling fans) like being in a royal rumble. In fact, employers should just do that. Lock applicants in a cage and the last man standing gets the job. That's pretty much the sort of competition everyone is up against anyway and it would keep all of us from having to edit our resumes constantly.
For myself, I decided to use my unscheduled two years of vacation to go back to school. Because, apparently, that five years I went from 1999-2004 wasn't sufficient to land me any job that didn't involve me answering someone else's phone.
People that had job security 5 years ago are now people that would kill to be the McDonald's employee that spits in the Big Mac of the rude asshole at the drive-thru window. But until the job market recovers, many are being forced to subsist on unemployment compensation. I mean, we've all paid into it, right? Might as well get some of it back. Otherwise, it's just more money we've worked for that we're pissing away. *cough, cough* social security *cough, cough*
However, there are many negative connotations associated with drawing unemployment, mostly perpetuated by people who haven't ever had to do it. The misconceptions are astounding and, sometimes, downright insulting.
So, just for the record for anyone that may half-way care:
1) No one WANTS to collect unemployment. Well. . . most people don't want to collect unemployment, but the edge of financial ruin is certainly not to place to get all uppity. You gotta do what you gotta do. F.Y.I. there's plenty of easier ways to lay around and get a government hand-out. State unemployment departments are full of shit and you have to jump through all kinds of hoops to get and keep your benefits. . . which is actually fairly ridiculous considering you're trying to get money back that you already paid. It's like an extra-retarded income tax refund.
2) No one is ballin' on employment. This is the thing that gets me the most. People seem to think that people drawing unemployment are sitting around at home in a top hat and spats eating steak and lobster for dinner and laughing at all the suckers that went to work that day. Well, maybe some of them are. Though, personally, I pawned my top hat and spats for gas money like a year ago. I do still have a pretty spiffy monocle, though. Gotta have something to leave to the kids. . . assuming I can ever afford to have any.
But yeah. Basically, you're poor. Unemployment benefits are like 50% or less of whatever you made at work. So there's a good chance you're eating pork and beans with hotdogs cut up in it. That or good old Ramen: the breakfast, lunch and dinner of champions. Could also possibly end up being Thanksgiving and Xmas dinner until you find a job.
3) Unemployed people ARE looking for work. The unemployment department makes you. And even if they didn't, most people still would. Why? Because (and this is key), it's easier to just go work than collect unemployment. No. Really.
The problem is that you can't get what's not there. Looking for work in this economy is (for all you wrestling fans) like being in a royal rumble. In fact, employers should just do that. Lock applicants in a cage and the last man standing gets the job. That's pretty much the sort of competition everyone is up against anyway and it would keep all of us from having to edit our resumes constantly.
For myself, I decided to use my unscheduled two years of vacation to go back to school. Because, apparently, that five years I went from 1999-2004 wasn't sufficient to land me any job that didn't involve me answering someone else's phone.
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
I'm Addicted to Rageahol
For almost the last two years, I've been driving all around northern Illinois; mostly for school related reasons. Just going to school and back is literally about 80 miles a day round trip. Needless to say, this is quite a bit of driving; especially for me. I'm a city girl. For years, my primary means of transportation were either my own two feet or public transportation.
Now, am I saying that I miss the good old Chicago Transit Authority? Not quite. After playing a few thousand rounds of "what the hell is that smell?", public transportation sort of loses its charm. Not to mention that fact that you can get from point A to point B faster by dog sled than you can by bus during the winter months and it becomes fairly obvious that the CTA has its downside.
I was forced into commuting by necessity. Don't get me wrong. I love my car. LOVE IT. My scale of things I love the most goes Mom>Cats>Car>Caffeine>Miscellaneousotherfamilymembers. My car has direct service from one destination to the next without any additional stops. My car runs on my schedule. My car is temperature-controlled and is there whenever I want it. And best of all, my car doesn't have any random creepy dudes that choose to sit directly next to me even though there may be thirty empty seats available.
Yet, driving does have it cons; the biggest of them being that you have to drive with other people. Now, at 5am outbound on any major expressway leading out of the city, this is not a big deal. Roads are clear and cops are scarce. It's pretty much the ideal driving time as far as I'm concerned. I like speed like crackheads like. . . well. . . crack. Any other time of day is pretty much a clusterfuck of old people driving 15mph under the speed limit and 85% of everyone else driving the actual Illinois speed limit or whatever the speed limit is in the their home state (which is apparently 20mph).
Needless to say, I'm prone to the occasional road rage. It's not a serious case, mind you. I'm not going to be on the next episode of Dr. Phil with my face blurred out whipping a milkshake (or whatever else I happen to be drinking at the time) onto someone else's windsheild while screaming obscenities. That is totally not me. I don't care if it does look like me. That's a complete coincidence.
Anyhoo, I will admit that I have been known to get slightly pissed off at people in the far left lane who are driving like they're driving Miss Daisy. Maybe I've tailgated them a little bit. Maybe I've flashed my brights in their rearview mirror so many times that it looks like Morse code. I'm not asking them to break the speed limit. I just want them to get the hell out of the way so I can do it. Would it really kill anyone to speed up just a little to change lanes? I find it fairly unlikely that a state trooper is going to appear, throw down a spike strip causing their car to fishtail out into the median, then drag them out of the driver's seat and beat the shit out of them for going 5mph over the speed limit. Unless, of course, they're shooting an episode of Cops. In which, case that could happen. . . they could also coincidentally "discover" a kilo of cocaine in the trunk. Still, odds are pretty low on all that.
Then there's that's special driver that for sure sees you coming up behind them , but still decides to change lanes at the last minute. Obviously, risking being rear ended by another car going 80 and having you both burst into a Jerry Bruckheimer-esque ball of flame is totally worth passing a school bus.
Anyone driving a semi or a one of those Pace vans should go end themselves. Immediately. I'm sure that after 8 straight hours of having a pack of geezers jabbering at you to slow down even while the van is in park, death probably starts to look pretty good anyway.
Luckily, I have roughly 8 months of school left. My long distance commute should come to an end after that. Hopefully, it'll be back to cheapie public transportation and it's colorful cast of characters. Because, you know, it's really been too long since I heard the soothing sound of a drunk retching in the back of a train car.
Now, am I saying that I miss the good old Chicago Transit Authority? Not quite. After playing a few thousand rounds of "what the hell is that smell?", public transportation sort of loses its charm. Not to mention that fact that you can get from point A to point B faster by dog sled than you can by bus during the winter months and it becomes fairly obvious that the CTA has its downside.
I was forced into commuting by necessity. Don't get me wrong. I love my car. LOVE IT. My scale of things I love the most goes Mom>Cats>Car>Caffeine>Miscellaneousotherfamilymembers. My car has direct service from one destination to the next without any additional stops. My car runs on my schedule. My car is temperature-controlled and is there whenever I want it. And best of all, my car doesn't have any random creepy dudes that choose to sit directly next to me even though there may be thirty empty seats available.
Yet, driving does have it cons; the biggest of them being that you have to drive with other people. Now, at 5am outbound on any major expressway leading out of the city, this is not a big deal. Roads are clear and cops are scarce. It's pretty much the ideal driving time as far as I'm concerned. I like speed like crackheads like. . . well. . . crack. Any other time of day is pretty much a clusterfuck of old people driving 15mph under the speed limit and 85% of everyone else driving the actual Illinois speed limit or whatever the speed limit is in the their home state (which is apparently 20mph).
Needless to say, I'm prone to the occasional road rage. It's not a serious case, mind you. I'm not going to be on the next episode of Dr. Phil with my face blurred out whipping a milkshake (or whatever else I happen to be drinking at the time) onto someone else's windsheild while screaming obscenities. That is totally not me. I don't care if it does look like me. That's a complete coincidence.
Anyhoo, I will admit that I have been known to get slightly pissed off at people in the far left lane who are driving like they're driving Miss Daisy. Maybe I've tailgated them a little bit. Maybe I've flashed my brights in their rearview mirror so many times that it looks like Morse code. I'm not asking them to break the speed limit. I just want them to get the hell out of the way so I can do it. Would it really kill anyone to speed up just a little to change lanes? I find it fairly unlikely that a state trooper is going to appear, throw down a spike strip causing their car to fishtail out into the median, then drag them out of the driver's seat and beat the shit out of them for going 5mph over the speed limit. Unless, of course, they're shooting an episode of Cops. In which, case that could happen. . . they could also coincidentally "discover" a kilo of cocaine in the trunk. Still, odds are pretty low on all that.
Then there's that's special driver that for sure sees you coming up behind them , but still decides to change lanes at the last minute. Obviously, risking being rear ended by another car going 80 and having you both burst into a Jerry Bruckheimer-esque ball of flame is totally worth passing a school bus.
Anyone driving a semi or a one of those Pace vans should go end themselves. Immediately. I'm sure that after 8 straight hours of having a pack of geezers jabbering at you to slow down even while the van is in park, death probably starts to look pretty good anyway.
Luckily, I have roughly 8 months of school left. My long distance commute should come to an end after that. Hopefully, it'll be back to cheapie public transportation and it's colorful cast of characters. Because, you know, it's really been too long since I heard the soothing sound of a drunk retching in the back of a train car.
Saturday, November 21, 2009
I Hate Morning People
Now, I realize that this is not the norm for everyone. Some people are bright-eyed and bushy-tailed every morning no matter what time it is. They jump out of bed raring to go and ready to take the world by the horns. They are cheerful and alert and can easily overcome any lingering fatigue from the night before as quickly and easily as you can say "good morning". . . .
I hate these people. A lot.
While I do not begrudge anyone whatever they like to do in the morning, be it starting the day with a workout or some yoga right down to lighting up a joint, I find myself becoming violently annoyed when they try to drag me into it. I am not a morning person. Never have been. Never will be. My mind is not firing on all cylinders before a certain hour. The only parts of my brain that are active are the basic motor skills portion and the angry-stabby-bitchy portion. The one part has no coherent thoughts. The other part just wants everyone to go away or die, whichever comes first. It is a veritable recipe for disaster.
And as if just daring to be cheerful in the a.m. isn't enough, the worst part about morning people is that they don't seem to realize that there are some who don't wish to be engaged at that hour. They chatter away happily like everyone gives a shit about whatever the hell they're talking about. Not that there probably isn't someone that does, but personally, all I can hear of what anyone says before 9a.m. is the waah-waah sound all the adults in every Charlie Brown special make. And as irritating as that sound is, I think I'm justified in wishing they would shut the fuck up and disappear for two hours.
Some may be wondering why I'm bringing this up. Well, for the obvious reason that I seem to be some sort of magnet for these people. The rate at which I attract them is positively surreal. I am not ashamed to say that I look like a cross between a zombie and a schizo in the morning. Is that really the face of a person that wants a pleasant chat? No, it's the face of a person that's going to end up as the suspect on a 48 Hours mystery.
I really don't understand what's getting lost in translation.
Sunday, October 25, 2009
Love Note from the U.S. Department of Education
Dear Deadbeat,
This office is writing in reference to your repeated requests for forbearance on your student loans. We have been more than happy to grant your petitions due to the outrageous interest that accrues during these periods, but don't you think this is getting a little ridiculous? To date, your current debt is approximately $12,000 give or take a grand; chump change compared to the hundreds of thousands of dollars owed to us by professional students at the end of their educational careers.
Considering the paltry nature of this sum, we advise you to begin making some sort of effort to settle this debt. In light of you having completed your education instead of pissing your loan away like so many of our other victims. . . . er. . . . clients, we highly suggest you cease and desist in the continuing series of crap jobs that have rendered you unable to submit payment.
In today's competitive job market, we understand the difficulty that you may be encountering in identifying viable career options and are pleased to inform you that there are scads of opportunities in the exotic dancing and pornographic motion picture industries, both with exciting potential for expansion into the wonderful world of prostitution.
Of course, by no means are we attempting to add any undue stress to what is already a walk-into-the-office-and-blow-everyone-away life situation. We simply have our. . . .er. . . your best interests in mind. As you are probably aware, our office is dedicated to providing the highest quality of service. After all, you've paid for it. . . . or you will. . . . because we'll make you.
As an informative aside, U.S. citizens who have obtained student loans are no longer permitted to dissolve the debt by declaring bankruptcy. In cases of financial hardship, we are amenable to extending multiple deferments on your loans. Confidentially, however, we advise you not to go this route. Though we will extend these deferments indefinitely, we are not above hounding your immediate family after you have faked your death. Conversely, some of our clients do experience continued difficulty in satisfying their payment obligations and late or non-payment is unacceptable. We don't care if you are living in a box in an alley. We will put a lien on your box.
In conclusion, we are more than willing to make payment arrangements tailored to your specific needs. Please contact us if you would like a list of approved pawn shops or blood donation outlets. If you have any questions or concerns, a dumb-ass automated system is available 24-hours, 7 days a week or you can speak with one live operator for roughly 55 minutes a day from 1:00 p.m-1:55 p.m. Eastern Standard Time. Alternately, you can contact us by mail. Response time is 6-8 weeks. Thank you for your time and we look forward to sucking you dry for the next ten years.
Best Regards,
U.S. Department of Education
P.S. Don't forget: WE KNOW WHERE YOU LIVE!Saturday, October 24, 2009
Sandwich Gravy
So, I'm watching t.v. the other day and an Arby's commercial comes on advertising one of their many tasty, artery-clogging sandwiches. I don't recall which one it was, but it was one of the ones that comes with an au jus dipping sauce.
Now, some may be wondering what exactly "au jus" is. Unless you're a food geek, this may not be part of your vernacular. According to Wikipedia, au jus is French for "with [its own] juice". Jus is the juice itself. In French cuisine, jus is a natural way to enhance the flavour of dishes, mainly chicken, veal and lamb.
Sounds good, right? Problem is, Arby's is not exactly a high class dining establishment. Frankly, I'd be surprised if there weren't deep fried critters in with the curly fries or if the special
"seasoning" on them doesn't just come from the fries being dropped on the floor.
More likely than not, the use of the term au jus is clever marketing ploy to make Arby's sandwiches sound yummier and, to the consumer subconscious, fancier.
Yeah, 'cause nothing says "high class" like processed cheese and meat that may or may not actually be roast beef.
Now, don't get me wrong. I like Arby's (but then I also like White Castle, so that's not really saying much). I don't knock them for trying to push their product any way they can. After all, shoving products down the consumer gullet ad nauseum is the American way. The issue I have with the fast food version of au jus is the second part of Wikipedia's definition:
"Often prepared in the United States is a seasoned sauce with several additional flavourings. American recipes au jus often use soy sauce, Worcestershire sauce, salt, pepper, white or brown sugar, garlic, onion, or other ingredients to make something more like a gravy."
The key word there is "gravy". Gravy! Fast food au jus is, in essence, sandwich gravy. Because that's just what a sandwich made of cheese and (alleged) red meat needs, right? Gravy.
I won't pretend like I'm the poster child for healthy eating. . . not unless Ramen, cheesecake and red No. 40 are part of the major food groups now, but there's just something wrong about gravy on a sandwich. Kind of like that bacon cheeseburger made of donuts (here). Bacon cheeseburgers are great. Donuts are great. But they don't belong together.
I mean, you can see through an Arby's bag by the time you get home when there's just a regular sandwich in there. Do we really want to throw gravy into that mix? It's worse that putting ranch dressing on a deli sandwich. A deli sandwich can actually be pretty healthy if you put the right things on it. Ranch dressing destroys it. Actually, ranch dressing destroys everything it's on. The fat content is astronomical. Now imagine putting something like that on a sandwich that is already a cardiovascular nightmare. May as well book your triple bypass now.
Personally, I believe American au jus and ranch dressing are a conspiracies cooked up by good people that bring you "insert-any-fad-diet-name-here". I mean, they gotta move those books somehow. And it totally makes sense that not eating bread will make up for sucking down milkshakes for ten years. Right?
Right.
Now, some may be wondering what exactly "au jus" is. Unless you're a food geek, this may not be part of your vernacular. According to Wikipedia, au jus is French for "with [its own] juice". Jus is the juice itself. In French cuisine, jus is a natural way to enhance the flavour of dishes, mainly chicken, veal and lamb.
Sounds good, right? Problem is, Arby's is not exactly a high class dining establishment. Frankly, I'd be surprised if there weren't deep fried critters in with the curly fries or if the special
"seasoning" on them doesn't just come from the fries being dropped on the floor.
More likely than not, the use of the term au jus is clever marketing ploy to make Arby's sandwiches sound yummier and, to the consumer subconscious, fancier.
Yeah, 'cause nothing says "high class" like processed cheese and meat that may or may not actually be roast beef.
Now, don't get me wrong. I like Arby's (but then I also like White Castle, so that's not really saying much). I don't knock them for trying to push their product any way they can. After all, shoving products down the consumer gullet ad nauseum is the American way. The issue I have with the fast food version of au jus is the second part of Wikipedia's definition:
"Often prepared in the United States is a seasoned sauce with several additional flavourings. American recipes au jus often use soy sauce, Worcestershire sauce, salt, pepper, white or brown sugar, garlic, onion, or other ingredients to make something more like a gravy."
The key word there is "gravy". Gravy! Fast food au jus is, in essence, sandwich gravy. Because that's just what a sandwich made of cheese and (alleged) red meat needs, right? Gravy.
I won't pretend like I'm the poster child for healthy eating. . . not unless Ramen, cheesecake and red No. 40 are part of the major food groups now, but there's just something wrong about gravy on a sandwich. Kind of like that bacon cheeseburger made of donuts (here). Bacon cheeseburgers are great. Donuts are great. But they don't belong together.
I mean, you can see through an Arby's bag by the time you get home when there's just a regular sandwich in there. Do we really want to throw gravy into that mix? It's worse that putting ranch dressing on a deli sandwich. A deli sandwich can actually be pretty healthy if you put the right things on it. Ranch dressing destroys it. Actually, ranch dressing destroys everything it's on. The fat content is astronomical. Now imagine putting something like that on a sandwich that is already a cardiovascular nightmare. May as well book your triple bypass now.
Personally, I believe American au jus and ranch dressing are a conspiracies cooked up by good people that bring you "insert-any-fad-diet-name-here". I mean, they gotta move those books somehow. And it totally makes sense that not eating bread will make up for sucking down milkshakes for ten years. Right?
Right.
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