- May 4, 2000
- 16,068
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- 146
but I will miss Dennis Miller Live. Watched the last "new" episode tonight, and I hate to see it end.
I sure hope he can get a new show somewhere. First being kicked of MNF (which he just didn't really fit IMO) and now this. I know a lot of people don't like him, but I think he is freakin' funny and accurate on most of his attacks.
Inconvenience by Dennis Miller
8/23/02
Now, I don't want to get off on a rant here, but we as Americans don't like being inconvenienced. In fact, we are now unwilling to lift a finger unless it's to let another driver know what we think of him.
You know, I think this whole convenience thing started with the wheel. Before that gizmo came along people didn't expect anything to be convenient. Once we were happy in our dank little caves, until we were able to use the wheel to see that others had caves that were bigger and weren't filled with as much bat guano as ours. With the wheel came envy, a lowering of our self-esteem, and greed. F@ck you wheel and anything else semi-round you rode in on.
My favorite convenience is pay-at-the-pump gas stations. Zip in, slide the card, pump the gas and go. In fact, pumping gas is the only car-related task I will partake in. I'm proud to say I have not once opened the hood of my car. For all I know, the engine runs on the shrieking souls of the damned. Of course, I'm driving the new Chrysler Hieronymous Bosch Signature Model.
The one convenience I would never give up is ice. I feel this is by far a better invention than fire. I'm not putting fire down mind you, but I'll have my meat rare, thank you, if I can get a few frosty cubes in my cocktail. Any dipshit on Survivor stuck on a tropical island can make fire. How many can make ice? (Because I could use an icebreaker right now.)
For me, the ATM is the model of modern convenience. It's fairly reliable, open 24 hours a day. The lines are never very long. It leads me step by step through the process. Then in less than a minute, it hands me money and thanks me for taking it. Then, almost as a cherished token of our lovely time together, it gives me a receipt for the transaction. Oh yeah, I want to f@ck an ATM... And, yeah, I want a balance statement to remember it by, little lady.
The telephone, once one of the most useful inventions for man, has now become a communication curse for mankind. I think there is something wrong when you hear a cell phone ring in public and thirty people start patting themselves down like they've just burst into flame. You know, people on cell phones are like people on cocaine, except far less likely to shut up.
Now because of technology we can go through the entire day with out ever talking to a single living person. Which believe me, I look at as a plus. I would love to be in the middle of a live conversation with someone and be able to push a star-key on their chest to fast forward to the g@ddamn point of their story.
When buying home electronics, I always get the optional warranty. I know consumer advocates say it's a rip off, but I just don't want to be inconvenienced. Last week my high-definition big screen went out on me. So I call the place where I bought it, mention the warranty, and the guy says they'll fix it for free, but that I have to bring it in. I don't own a pickup truck or a van, and frankly, people who do scare me. Not only that, but have you ever tried to lift a big screen high definition television set? It's extremely top heavy and very awkward. So my boys and I put on safety goggles, took hammers, and bashed the thing into 763 easily manageable pieces which we numbered and put into a shoebox for eventual reassembly, and transported them to the service desk. Tebbi, the nice man in the New York Yankees turban, told us it'll be ready in the year Pi.
The clothing company Dockers actually makes a pair of pants with eight pockets to enable men to keep their hands free while carrying their wallet, keys, Starbucks card, MP3 player, palm pilot, two-way pager and cell phone. You know, when you're knocking over small children as you careen down the street because you're literally crating cargo in your pants, it seems like the cooler move at that point would be just to bite the bullet and go with the man-purse.
And you know the ultimate irony: today, even convenience stores are no longer convenient. First off, there is never a place to park, because the reason they named it "7-11" in the first place, is that there's only seven parking places and eleven cars at any given time, so you have to circle the convenience store like a f@cking Indian-oops, excuse me, "casino-owner American"-- attacking a wagon train. Then, the check-out lines are always filled with people who feel the need to scratch the silver pants off the leprauchan's @ss on the "Buck of the Irish" lottery ticket while still standing at the counter; not to mention the sixteen year old guys trying to buy hard lemonade using their dead uncle's dogtags from the Spanish Civil War as ID; and the sheepish couple palming condoms like the Ace of Clubs in a poker game with Ricky Jay; or, my personal favorite, the just-new-to-this-hemisphere guy trying to cash third party checks from Indonesia written on the back of a leaf that he had wiped his @ss with earlier that afternoon. By the time you get to the register, your coffee's cold, and your Slurpee's hot, but you were able to jerk off to Hustler in line, thereby saving yourself the cost of buying it. Now that's convenience. Clean up in Aisle 2.
Of course, that's just my opinion. I could be wrong.
I sure hope he can get a new show somewhere. First being kicked of MNF (which he just didn't really fit IMO) and now this. I know a lot of people don't like him, but I think he is freakin' funny and accurate on most of his attacks.
Inconvenience by Dennis Miller
8/23/02
Now, I don't want to get off on a rant here, but we as Americans don't like being inconvenienced. In fact, we are now unwilling to lift a finger unless it's to let another driver know what we think of him.
You know, I think this whole convenience thing started with the wheel. Before that gizmo came along people didn't expect anything to be convenient. Once we were happy in our dank little caves, until we were able to use the wheel to see that others had caves that were bigger and weren't filled with as much bat guano as ours. With the wheel came envy, a lowering of our self-esteem, and greed. F@ck you wheel and anything else semi-round you rode in on.
My favorite convenience is pay-at-the-pump gas stations. Zip in, slide the card, pump the gas and go. In fact, pumping gas is the only car-related task I will partake in. I'm proud to say I have not once opened the hood of my car. For all I know, the engine runs on the shrieking souls of the damned. Of course, I'm driving the new Chrysler Hieronymous Bosch Signature Model.
The one convenience I would never give up is ice. I feel this is by far a better invention than fire. I'm not putting fire down mind you, but I'll have my meat rare, thank you, if I can get a few frosty cubes in my cocktail. Any dipshit on Survivor stuck on a tropical island can make fire. How many can make ice? (Because I could use an icebreaker right now.)
For me, the ATM is the model of modern convenience. It's fairly reliable, open 24 hours a day. The lines are never very long. It leads me step by step through the process. Then in less than a minute, it hands me money and thanks me for taking it. Then, almost as a cherished token of our lovely time together, it gives me a receipt for the transaction. Oh yeah, I want to f@ck an ATM... And, yeah, I want a balance statement to remember it by, little lady.
The telephone, once one of the most useful inventions for man, has now become a communication curse for mankind. I think there is something wrong when you hear a cell phone ring in public and thirty people start patting themselves down like they've just burst into flame. You know, people on cell phones are like people on cocaine, except far less likely to shut up.
Now because of technology we can go through the entire day with out ever talking to a single living person. Which believe me, I look at as a plus. I would love to be in the middle of a live conversation with someone and be able to push a star-key on their chest to fast forward to the g@ddamn point of their story.
When buying home electronics, I always get the optional warranty. I know consumer advocates say it's a rip off, but I just don't want to be inconvenienced. Last week my high-definition big screen went out on me. So I call the place where I bought it, mention the warranty, and the guy says they'll fix it for free, but that I have to bring it in. I don't own a pickup truck or a van, and frankly, people who do scare me. Not only that, but have you ever tried to lift a big screen high definition television set? It's extremely top heavy and very awkward. So my boys and I put on safety goggles, took hammers, and bashed the thing into 763 easily manageable pieces which we numbered and put into a shoebox for eventual reassembly, and transported them to the service desk. Tebbi, the nice man in the New York Yankees turban, told us it'll be ready in the year Pi.
The clothing company Dockers actually makes a pair of pants with eight pockets to enable men to keep their hands free while carrying their wallet, keys, Starbucks card, MP3 player, palm pilot, two-way pager and cell phone. You know, when you're knocking over small children as you careen down the street because you're literally crating cargo in your pants, it seems like the cooler move at that point would be just to bite the bullet and go with the man-purse.
And you know the ultimate irony: today, even convenience stores are no longer convenient. First off, there is never a place to park, because the reason they named it "7-11" in the first place, is that there's only seven parking places and eleven cars at any given time, so you have to circle the convenience store like a f@cking Indian-oops, excuse me, "casino-owner American"-- attacking a wagon train. Then, the check-out lines are always filled with people who feel the need to scratch the silver pants off the leprauchan's @ss on the "Buck of the Irish" lottery ticket while still standing at the counter; not to mention the sixteen year old guys trying to buy hard lemonade using their dead uncle's dogtags from the Spanish Civil War as ID; and the sheepish couple palming condoms like the Ace of Clubs in a poker game with Ricky Jay; or, my personal favorite, the just-new-to-this-hemisphere guy trying to cash third party checks from Indonesia written on the back of a leaf that he had wiped his @ss with earlier that afternoon. By the time you get to the register, your coffee's cold, and your Slurpee's hot, but you were able to jerk off to Hustler in line, thereby saving yourself the cost of buying it. Now that's convenience. Clean up in Aisle 2.
Of course, that's just my opinion. I could be wrong.
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