Musings From Mossberg #17

They’re dead serious!

Have you ever had one of those days where things just don’t seem to go right?  Not even close to being your fault, it’s as if every possible thing conspires all night to fuck you up every chance it gets?  You stub your toe on a table that hasn’t moved in eons, except it did but you can’t prove it?  You pour your coffee and somehow instead of a steady stream of that delightful beverage going in your cup, it splooshes out in a tidal wave of liquid mockery going all over the counter and floor and it laughs at you no matter how many fucks you elicit? Then you throw a towel on it and go get the mop, but when you straighten up you knock your head on the corner of an open door of a cabinet you haven’t opened since the Lincoln Administration.  You stumble back, step in the puddle of coffee, slip and fall on your ass with everything on the counter you swept off in a vain attempt to save yourself from certain death?  One of those fucking days?  Well, that ain’t the half of it.  You finally make it to the couch nursing your lacerations and contusions, your bruises losing the competition to your bruised ego and pride, secretly glad nobody saw that circus and enduring the stifled giggles of the dogs who look at you and shake their heads, but don’t say anything because you feed them and they know it.  But aaaaaaahhhhhh, finally!  Comfort.

You turn on the television and since it’s now commercials that have small actual shows interrupting them every now and then, you can’t help but watch a few because you can’t sit up to retrieve the remote you foolishly left just out of reach.  So I’m watching the usual mind numbing offerings from companies so paralyzed by the counter culture woke fucks, that they try to portray things that are wildly false. I was watching the usual denigration of the white male and was getting pissed until the dog reminded me of the morning’s incidents so I was kind of stuck. But since it’s the holiday season, the veritable avalanche of gimmicks and unlimited useless bullshit items we can’t live without, yet we can.  I’ll get into one that shouldn’t faze me, but as a follicly challenged individual, there is this new device that I saw that left me gob smacked as to its uselessness as a helpful solution to thinning hair.  It’s that stupid fucking Laser Dome hat that touts its inane ability to have you looking like Bigfoot if you wear it while you go about your daily routine.  Anybody who believes that shit has a daily routine that includes a daily full frontal lobotomy and numerous psychotropic drugs. They say that by putting red colored LED lights in your noggin helps “stimulate hair growth” because they’re colored red.  Except they don’t. The only light they emit is photons.  No heat. No other portion of the spectrum that’s useful. No infrared. No ultraviolet.  It’s like shining a fucking flashlight on your dome.  That has the same effect, only you don’t look as fucking moronic and it didn’t cost “only $19.95” and you just pay a “handling fee” of $20.00.  The second one as always, is “free” except that isn’t either. You just pay “shipping and handling”.  The “fee” pays for everything. The $19.95 is pure profit.

They play on the minds of people who consider hair loss worse than having a rabid wolverine chew on their wrinkle bag while they’re covered in motor oil thrown on them by an environmentalist who’s foaming at the mouth screeching about the latest fad that will kill them.  Seriously?  As you age, some people’s hair goes away, others doesn’t. So fucking what?  Deal with reality!  That miserable Bosley cock with ears is a good example of a person who needs to be beaten with iron bars and thrown under a steam roller, scraped up and dissolved in a vat of hydrochloric acid.  Here’s why. A guy with widow’s peaks goes to a bar and these hot babes point and laugh, kick him in the balls, call him shrimp dick to his face, then they flock to the buff dude who’s sporting a full head of hair, sneering at the poor bastard who slinks into a corner and wishes he were dead.  Until!  Yes, until he spends a small fortune on the Bosely Hair Club and after a couple of years of being endlessly mocked by the staff and turned down by every female on the planet, numbnuts finally gets a few sprigs emanating from his noggin and goes back to the bar where the babes now suddenly drop everything a fawn over him like a fucking rock star tearing their clothes off and fighting amongst each other for a chance to bone him first.  Biff now looks on in a crestfallen jealousy as he is deserted for this Elvis haired Adonis and his confident sneer is replaced by a certain sadness as he realizes the Bosely enhanced cuck has toppled him from his lofty perch on mount Olympus. To his credit, he has to look up the meaning of shrimp dick. Except that’s not the case. Hair doesn’t make the man.

Once your head has been planted with neat rows they pluck off your ass, you are still the same loser dweeb that shelled out your money in a vain attempt to be viewed as something you’re not.  Cool and handsome. You’re still a pathetic basement dwelling, Hot Pockets consuming failure, who can’t come to terms with the fact you’re going fucking bald. You cannot figure out you’ve been played by hucksters who create the stereotype of a bald man having a little dick and no money.  People fall for it too!  Girls are conditioned to reject men with thinning hair because that’s all they’ve been taught!  Men with hair are told they are more successful than any copper topper because fucks like Bosely depend on it.  And people fall for it too.  Except as a curt reminder, Ted Bundy had a full luxurious head of locks.  Jeff Bezos is without one pesky hair on his head.  Who would you rather be friends with, girls?  I thought so.  But the fucking light filled baseball cap has to take the cake.  Wear this and you’ll look like a woolly mammoth in just days!  It’s a scientific breakthrough!  It’s magic! It’s phenomenal!  It’s utter bullshit.

I remember a long while back at a staff meeting I was attending, one of the less likable women said out loud in front of everyone, “Hey! How does it feel to walk around with no hair?”  I replied, “A lot better than walking around with no tits”, since she was severely lacking in the tits department.  She burst out crying and ran out of the room. Suddenly I was in trouble. I was the unfeeling prick bad guy.  “How could you say that?”  They demanded to know… “She can’t help it!”  I replied, “How could she say that to me?  I can’t help it either!”  Now this is what they told me. “You can get hair replacement”. I said, “She can get a boob job and it’s cheaper!” Never did they equate her insult meant to embarrass me with my retort which definitely embarrassed her!  Not once!  I was ordered to apologize for my misogynistic sexist remark or be fired. Soooooooo,  I was at another place filling out a job application and still laughing at how she didn’t just get burned, she got napalmed.  I simply didn’t care. A job’s a job.  If you come at me, expect to get twice what you give.  That works with kindness too.  So fuck them all.  I’m going to get back to commercial television now so I can watch the ten minutes of show per hour sandwiched hastily between the endless reminders of a society that exists in the left’s imaginations and watch the subtle and not so subtle indications that white people are psychopaths and morons who exhibit mentally ill behavior in front of knowing black people…..yeah, I know……But, I won’t buy that fucking Wad-O-Hair baseball hat even as a fucking joke. Because that’s what it is. A fucking joke!  Along with the carefully psychologically crafted commercials that try to instill my inferiority to minorities, mutants and freaks.  They’re the fucking joke.  I just wish they were funny. They’re not. They’re dead serious.

Read that previous sentence. Take off the serious. That’s what they should be.

Moss out.