PIG is tired of listening to the relentless whining coming from damn near everybody. Our initial reaction involved slam dunking these caterwauling cretins with our infamous fervor, but we're not going to do that, this time out. Channeling our elusive "sensitive" side, PIG is prepared to sort out a variety of problems that - quite frankly - we find far from amusing. As usual, our approach is unique, but it's much more than that. Wherever it's PIGishly possible, we employ a solution that transforms a chronic annoyance into a source of endless entertainment. That's the key to our PIGish approach: if you can't make a problem go away, then find a way to make it relentlessly amusing.
# Gender bender bathrooms & locker rooms
The solution to this restroom/locker room debacle isn't rocket science.
Your imaginary gender is irrelevant. If you've got a hole - original equipment or a tribute to modern medicine - you do your business in hole city - the women/ladies/girls facilities.
Your imaginary gender is irrelevant. If you've got a pole - original equipment or a tribute to modern medicine - you do your business in pole city - the men/boys facilities.
For consenting ADULTS, public, UNISEX, bathrooms and locker rooms could sooth those bruised Mad Nads egos.
If you cut to the chase, you are what you're packing: a pole, or a hole. Why make it more complicated, when it's as easy as that?
# A "Smack 'em" function on my phone, because there are times when you want to reach through the phone and SMACK the asshat on the other end of the call.
A "smack 'em" function? You bet. There's a pressing need for this goodie, and I can prove it.
* After you squander precious minutes of your life working your way through the "press '1' for" automated answering maze, you finally blunder into a living, breathing, human being. You're so punch drunk from the automated answering system ordeal, you aren't as alert as you need to be, in this situation. With your guard down, you agree - DUMBASS - to be put on hold. By the time you blurt out that "D'OH", it's too late, and you're in elevator music hell. But, if you had a "smack 'em" function, you could administer a bitch slap on your tormentor, with the simple press of a switch. If you're on your toes, you'll "smack 'em" the minute they answer, moving you to the front of the line, for as long as you need to stay there.
* Your friend, relative, acquaintance, or sniveling sibling, starts blubbering, the instant you answer the phone. Been there? Heard it? Don't want to go down that long, torturous road again? No problem, "smack 'em".
* When that telemarketing twerp calls you during dinner, or at the critical moment in your favorite boob tube show, don't put up with their bull crap, "smack 'em".
* Is your ex fond of calling you up and spewing a venomous trip down memory lane? Why put up with it one moment longer? Why wait for him, her, himher, or it, to call you? Instead, phone the pest up and "smack 'em".
* Did some humor challenged Harpy take out a restraining order on you that bans you from Hooters, until the sun burns out? Don't sit there feeling sorry for yourself, call the bitch up and "smack 'em".
* Is your hippie neighbor blowing out your ear drums with his god-awful music? Don't waste your time calling the cops, when you can call that music lover and "smack 'em"
* Are you going postal listening to that blithering fool that your favorite boom box talk show host has as a guest? Don't grit your teeth, don't switch the station, just get the rat bastard on the phone and "smack 'em".
* When your so-called best friend calls long distance COLLECT to gloat, after his favorite team beat your favorite team, you no longer need to imagine the joy of having this exchange of views in person, where you could respond with some chin music. With this goodie, no matter how far apart you are, you can sooth the agony of defeat the instant that you "smack 'em".
Once you give this some serious thought, you'll realize how essential it is to add "smack 'em" to your phone. Hell, a technological advance of this caliber could revitalize the American economy.
Since I have been thinking about it longer than any of you, I have come up with a couple necessary enhancements that will take "smack 'em" to the next level. The first is a targeting mechanism that would allow you to pin a bull's-eye on the bellowing cell idiot in the restaurant, or that road warrior cell idiot in front of you who is driving 40 mph SLOWER, than everyone else on the expressway. Without this enhancement, you're SOL, because you don't have their number. BUT, with a targeting mechanism, you could put the cell idiot in the crosshairs and "smack 'em".
Fact: Paying reparations is an asinine notion that will set back race relations in America by decades. That said, I'm all for it, if it will make these ethnocrat whiners shut the (expletive deleted) up. I say, let's dangle a wad of money (at least $500,000 in dead presidents, but I'm willing to make it a cool $1 million, if needed) in front of their bellowing, self-pitying faces. Let's tell these whiners that the money is theirs for the taking, however, we want something in return. No, I'm not spouting any 'send them back to Africa' drivel. The only requirement is as follows:
You're free to take the money and use it any way you want, tax free. In return, you, personally, and all of your descendants to the end of time, must absolve the American government of any/all historical 'sins'. In other words, from the instant you take this money, you and your family are, in the eyes of the government 'unhyphenated white males'. This means no more racial set asides, no more 'protected minority' status, no raced-based government largess, ever again. As an unhyphenated white male, you lose your race card privileges. White males, by their very nature, are incapable of being subjected to racism. By the way, former ethnocrat, that's not the white man's rules, it's yours. So, there you have it. The choice is yours. The money in exchange for your protected minority status.
In other words, take the god damn money and shut your god damn yaps, for god damn ever! If they won't accept the money on those terms, they can bellow about reparations and racism till our sun explodes, because they're not getting jack. This offer is a one-time, take it or leave it gig. End of discussion.
I wrote that YEARS ago, and tucked it away in my files, until now. It's just the way I wrote it, way back when.
It 'came out of the shadows', when I mentioned it to Porcus. Together, we brain-stormed some consequences of this plan.
* His race card is invalidated, but that's cool because he's issued a 'Cracker Card'.
* The newly minted cracker loses his, her, hisher, or its Ebonics privileges.
* The newly minted cracker won't be waylaid by the cops for 'driving while black', because, melanin-content is trumped by 'I took the money, honey'. All he needs to do is flash his Cracker Card.
* If he stumbles and lands in jail, he helps improve graybar hotel demographics because he's not another brother in the slammer, he's just another whitey, paying his debt to society.
* If he's walking on the street at night, whitey won't panic, because his reparations recipient status makes him 'one of us'. One flash of his Cracker Card will get 'er done.
* If he decides to start his own business, live in the burbs, or get an education, he has a ready response for the losers who chide him for 'acting white'. Brandishing his Cracker Card, he will proudly proclaim: "I'm not ACTING white. I AM white."
* His Cracker Card entitles him to vote for anyone he wants, including Conservatives and -GASP - Republicans.
There are, of course, some devilish details to iron out, but it's no big deal. Winner, winner, chicken dinner? Oh, hell yes.
# Humanity 2.0
Old Ka-Boom seems to be past the busiest part of his celestial agenda, so this might be a perfect time to fast track one of those back burner projects that he has neglected far too long. I am speaking, of course, about the long awaited upgrade of humanity from 1.0 to 2.0. It's time for Old Ka-Boom to git 'er done, as Larry The Cable Guy likes to say.
I know how hard it can be to get rolling on a new project, so I'll prime the pump by giving Old Ka-Boom a few pointers, then step back and let him run with the idea.
He really needs to rethink his approach to 'begatting'. In one part of the Humanity 1.0 operator's manual - The Holy Tome - he has Humanity 1.0 begatting their butts off. In other parts of the operator's manual he's bellowing about the sinfulness of getting horizontal and squishy. I think he needs to leave sex alone, and re-engineer the begatting function.
Perpetuating the human species should be a tad more involved that "wham, bam, thank you, ma'am, OOPS"? He needs separate the recreational aspects of sex from procreation. A third gender whose only biological function would be to facilitate reproduction would be one solution worth considering. Given that 'burden', such a gender wouldn't take reproduction lightly.
I am, as you probably already know, egregiously Darwinian in my approach to procreation. My Humanity 2.0 reproductive upgrade - one that I respectfully suggest is needed - is based on a very simple Hambo contention: Anyone can reproduce, and those who have no business doing so - Twatney Spears comes to mind - ALWAYS DO. In other words, my third gender whose function is transforming boinking into reproduction serves one vital purpose that amounts to "stop these people before they breed". Would a third sex let ma and pa Jackson produce a La Toya or Michael? Doubtful. Would this third gender allow ma and pa Manson unleash a Charlie? Nope. I rest my case.
I enjoy a good prank, a practical joke, as well as the next guy, but enough is enough. In Humanity 2.0, he really needs to do something about this blatant "HELLO THERE, SWEET CHEEKS" male arousal. Something a tad less hair-triggered and somewhat more subtle is needed. We can work out the fine details.
Admittedly, being born nearly bald and dying with that some condition has a certain symmetry, but is it really necessary to punish all men because Adam stepped in it?
Women already outlive us, so letting us keep our full head of hair to the very end would let us accept that early checkout time with a smile on our face.
Many women seem less than thrilled spitless with the original set of sweater puppies they are issued. Why not create a biological mechanism that will let her adjust the size of her 'girls' to suit her mood. In addition to making her much, much happier, it would give dudes an early warning system beacon that will let him know when there's an unscheduled 'chill' in the air. If she deflates them the moment he enters the room, that's a sure sign that he's stepped in it.
There was a time when Old Ka Boom allowed these dim bulbs to achieve room temperature through their own stupidity. Then, ever so gradually, he got bored and imposed this new rule that didn't make it into the Humanity 1.0 operator's manual. You know the rule I mean, the one about Old Ka-Boom having a soft spot for fools and drunks. Granted, he seems to have a sliding scale on who makes the fools and drunks cut, but he saves more of them than he should. I think we should revoke the fools and drunks protection in Humanity 2.0.
# Swap Rats
PIG's cure for Senatorial bloviating is based on a venerable dose of American culture called the "The Gong Show." All it requires is a hand-picked panel of rational adults and a gigantic Chinese gong. Any of the rational adults can terminate senatorial bloviating at any time by smacking that large Chinese gong. Once gonged, the senator must sit down and is banned from pontificating on the senate floor for the rest of the debate on a given item. For added amusement, roving cameras will follow the gonged senator to capture all his, her, hisher or its post-gong whining. You gotta know that Chucky Schumer and his comrades will be frequent "gong" recipients, so they'll provide lots of post-gong amusement.
Are you enraged by congresspunks and their pork barrel antics? We have that covered too. It involves specially selected "referees" and reality show-like punishments. The referees would select the most egregious pork barrel offenders and force them to perform certain Fear Factor quality "tasks" to recover their House "earmarking" privileges. A special American Idol class bank of phones and computers would let the viewing audience determine which reality show fate the pork perpetrating hack must suffer. Buffo ratings and endless amusement would ensue.
See, we told you that we'd make it all better. Don't you fell a tad sheepish about all those names you called us, doubting Thomas Sparky?