Well it’s wintertime, and I assume that means that this blog post is reaching most of you from your hospital beds, as the frigid outside temperatures have forced you to throw caution to the wind and, in a desperate attempt to warm yourselves, try to operate a blanket. Up until now, I would have carelessly assumed that you’re all capable of using such an apparently infernal device, and I suppose I need to apologize for being so callous. I had no idea that some of these tassled monstrosities can turn into straitjackets that would confound Houdini himself. Thank God the people at Snuggie clued me in.
Indeed. How many times have I been caught between a ringing telephone rock and an urgent need to cover every exposed square inch of me in a blanket hard place? Do I answer the phone? What if it’s a family emergency? But then again, what if it’s just the increasingly desperate New York Times begging me to subscribe to the print edition? Then I’ve shifted my body position, thus causing irreparable blanket slippage, for no good goddamn reason! More than once, I’ve frozen up like a Bomb-Pop when faced with just such a choice. And here I thought I was the only one. Well apparently not, as we’ve bought more than 3 million of these things.
My sorry ass hasn’t been bailed out of such a harrowing household situation since the Get-A-Grip was introduced. I forget when this hit the market, but I’m pretty sure it’s inventor was a guy named Jesus H. Christ.
I thought that slipping like a Warner Brother’s cartoon character on a banana peel every time I exited the shower was an embarrassing ritual that only I was going through. But thanks to Get-A-Grip, I know it isn’t true…there’s a strapping, vital young man with muscles almost as big as mine making the same wacky “Oh shit!” face, right there at the 4 second mark! And I can’t tell you how many times I’ve destroyed perfectly good tile by ramming it with an 8 inch drill bit after watching “This Old House” and getting it in my head to try and install a handle myself.
I think it’s safe to say, especially now that we’re all down on the American capitalist system, that it’s products that save us from our own clumsy idiocy that make us the best f**king economy in the world. You know what they’re doing in bombed-out cesspools like Venezuela when they have to chop vegetables? Slicing their fingers to bloody ribbons like the poor woman who failed to buy a Chop Wizard, that’s what:
Not us though, man. Not even the dreaded onion, the dirty bomb of the vegetable kingdom, can make us flee the kitchen. Just throw one of those things in the Chop Wizard, and BAM! Chopped onion with nary a teardrop to be seen. Is it just me, or did President Obama really screw up naming Timothy Geithner as Treasury Secretary instead of this man: