How an Entry Level Job Scam Had Me Almost Move to Nashville.

I noticed I needed to get a new job after my tax return indicated I made less than $18,000 a year. Which, according to poverty guidelines, makes me $4000 short of the poverty line (sort of). Well, this got me thinking; I could continue to be a college town bartender making 2.13 an hour and clearing up sweet smelling regurgitated margaritas, or I could get a real person job.

After a month or so of relentless internet job searching I have concluded that there are no real jobs on the internet. 

Most of the job offers I got were scams centering around the old selling steak knife sets to complete strangers ponzi-scheme. 

First of all, who the fuck buys stuff from door to door sales people now days? The elderly? The cripplingly lonely?

And to get around the fact that well, no-one has ever wanted to be a door to door sales person, they mislead accordingly. One trick is to use as many professional buzzwords as possible to spell out the most basic of information. For example, I received this email yesterday.

As an Insphere Agent, you'll be able to provide a consultative product approach to create an innovative solution that best fits the needs of each individual client. A multi-line product portfolio also provides an increased ability to cross-sell existing and new clients. 

What it's actually saying: You will be working in a call center. Your "clients" will be a bunch of fucksticks that can't turn on their computer without suffering a minor brain hemorrhage.  

Now that's talk about Nashville Business Consulting. They called me in for an interview. Luckily, I researched them before buying a plane ticket to Nashville. Here's what I found:

They don't pay you, and more bizarrely, they participate in terrible, terrible team building exercises.

Needless to say, I ain't goin' to Nashville.

Break News! American Ad Agencies are a bunch of racist, sexisit

After being exposed to American T.V for seven months now and enduring a stream of awful shows and truck adverts complete with huge manly letters falling from the sky, I noticed that interracial couples were completely absent.



This article does a pretty good job of providing examples to the contrary, yet something seems amiss. The TV we get down here is going to be different, and I bet advertisers up North don't have to pander to the lucrative racist Southern dollar.

This is where I get to say a big fuck you to the ad agencies and their clients.

Ever since Mad Men blew up, the perception of the ad (wo)man is that of a creative genius, combining a Machiavellian brand of psychology with the vision of an artist.

This is utter bollocks.

The ad agencies have been and will continue to peddle to the lowliest dregs of culture. For example, here is a hilarious Miller Lite commercial.




Oh, I get it. It's funny because he's a weak vagina-man for not drinking Miller lite. By the same logic, does drinking 20 Miller Lites give you cumulative manliness? If so, that time I drank a case of the stuff, vomited in a sink and fell down a flight of stairs was, in the perverse mind of the ad agencies, the same level of manliness as ripping a crocodile's tongue out and clubbing it do death with it.

This may seem off topic, but one has to really point out the absurdities to really show how fucking bad American commercials are. While the gender marketing and outright sexism of the commercials highlight the sleaze and bigotry of the ad companies and their clients, the lack of interracial couples in adverts shows their cowardice in challenging the remnants of Jim Crow. After all, why risk annoying the rednecks who swear by your otherwise shitty product?

Ad companies please stop insulting women, men, minorities and, my intelligence.

Business Class is the Perfect Marriage of American Isolationism and British Anti-Socialism

I had the pleasure of being bumped up to business class during my recent London to Houston flight. What I didn't realize is that amidst the pampering and cocktails (Yes Kanye, I have in fact drank champagne on the plane) is that business class is hilariously awkward, even more so than sitting next to a repugnant bloater in economy class. The reason- the optional screen that seperates you and one other person.


The problems start soon after takeoff. You are faced with a decision; put the screen up and look like an elitist dick, leave it down and feel like an invasive twat, or do nothing and see who blinks first. Fortunately, the other guy reacted first by pressing the button. The two seconds it took for the screen to rise were just enough time for him to give me a "Sorry, you invasive pleb" smirk. But I understand it! The screen serves as a physical barrier between two people that would only have the ability to make awkward small talk anyway. And everyone knows that the British hate talking to strangers in close proximity more than anything, especially so if the guy sitting next to you is potentially a Texan.

So I abandoned my quest at connecting with my business class travel mate and settled in to blessed isolationism. And yes I hate to admit it, but whacking that partition up after the stewardess brought me another flirtini was sort of gratifying in a Jabrone-Thoreau way.