Battle Plan for the War on Christmas

''Tis the season to be jaded. Each year, the day after Halloween, we're all supposed to take off our monster masks and immediately put on our friendly holiday masks. Fearsome fangs are replaced by fake smiles. It's a very jarring transition. Suddenly we're supposed to act like we care about people we can't stand.

Christmas is a rather bizarre custom, absolute sensory overload. While you may notice Halloween's hoopla everywhere you go, it tends to stay at a modest level. Maybe some cobwebs and jack-o-lanterns here and there, a few fake bats, and the ambience of scary noises playing through tiny plastic speakers. But on November 1st, Halloween is brutally stomped out by the mighty Christmas juggernaut. Like holding up a cross to a vampire, the Christmas season becomes the end-all/be-all as it smothers the last bit of spooky fun. As American culture insists: all mortals shall await the Christmas season and worship it!

All those idiots are like, "Oh shit! I can't wait for Christmas!"

But they cut out the part where the dog takes a giant shit on everyone.

'Oh shit,' indeed.

Now why does Christmas season need to start on the first day of November? Is there any historical significance to the date? Well after a significant amount of research, it turns out that 2012 years ago, November 1st was not an eventful day at all. At the time, the Virgin Mary didn't even know whether her child would be a boy or a girl, much less the son of the Lord God and savior of mankind. As strange as it seems, 11/1/01 B.C. was just a normal day, a time when the world wasn't already soaked in Christmas decorations. There was however, a bit of foreshadowing on this day, when the preggers Virgin had a major craving for 5000 loaves of bread. For those interested in learning more about these events, I refer you to this historical document.

Would it really hurt for Christmas season to begin, I don't know, a little closer to December? Of course not. The question is, would it really be profitable for Christmas season to begin any later? That's as simple as it gets, this whole "Christmas" thing, it's all a big racketeering scheme. All of this seasonal fuss is only for one thing: money.

As recently as a month ago, this fact hit me like a brick. It was like in Home Alone 2 when Kevin dropped several bricks from a rooftop onto Marv's face. But the proverbial brick that hit me had a bill stapled to it. When your wallet becomes lighter, it's like your equilibrium shifts and your world perspective changes. Suddenly you realize these friendly Christmas characters --these snowmen, reindeer, and Santa Clauses-- they are not our friends. While we're all distracted by the lights, the cheer, and the holly jolly horseshit, the Christmas Cartel is robbing us blind. 

And this is how I knew for sure: I drove to downtown Nashville to enjoy some non-holiday festivities. I parked my automobile in the same downtown parking lot that I always go to, the one that's a few blocks out of the way and only costs $5. But this time the price was double. That's $10! And do you know what the fucking receipt said? Instead of 'Parking - Evening - $5', it said: 'Parking - Christmas - $10'. Oh! It's Christmas so you can charge whatever you want? But wait, it's not Christmas, it's the beginning of November!

Is that supposed to be "supply and demand"? The parking lot company just arbitrarily decides that the parking space is worth more during Christmas --and also-- Christmas isn't on December 25, it lasts from November until whenever they say it's over. Excuse me, I don't live in the North Pole, I can't see how more people are parking downtown than usual. And I did not see any sleighs or reindeer parked anywhere that shitty overpriced parking lot.

Now what exactly is this "War on Christmas", and wouldn't it seem obvious that Christmas is winning? It seems unrealistic that some kind of rebel army, or even a major geopolitical power, could make a dent in the colossal Christmas machine. I couldn't find any information on this war in my world history textbook, but that's because this war is happening in realtime, right now! All the facts and documents I needed came directly from Bill O'Reilly's Twitter page.

Thanks to today's 24/7 social media cycle and web traffic metrics --which measure internet influence and popularity in terms of 'likes', 'trending', and 'clicks'-- it's easy to get information fast, and to jump to conclusions even quicker. That's how I was able to discover that O' Reilly's conversation directly led to more Twitter followers and a more amplified and vitriolic dialogue regarding "The War on Christmas". This led to more Christmas marketing and advertising, which led to more sales in everything from Christmas decorations to electronic goods. And this led to rich motherfuckers getting richer. If you participated in a Macy's doorbuster sale this season, congratulations, you just payed for a new luxury hot tub at a North Pole mansion. 

The so-called "War on Christmas" is in fact, the most profitable and omnipotent false flag operation the world has ever seen. Of course, it's a ridiculous notion to believe that Christmas could be taken away from you. But they want you to be afraid of losing it so you'll celebrate more aggressively. That doesn't do you any good, but it makes a difference to the Christmas Cartel, which is making a flagrant fortune off of your panicked consumerism. 

So what's the point of it all? Is it that special, warm and fuzzy feeling you have inside during the holidays? That's just gas, try taking a Prevacid before suck down another slice of ham. In reality, Christmas is an unnecessary strain on our lives. Why should we work so hard all year just to waste our hard-earned money on junk in the wintertime. An overworked child in China busts his ass to make an iPad for an over-privileged brat in the U.S. who deserves to get his ass busted. 

If this holiday is just going to be about stress, wasteful spending, and further pampering of the most obnoxious and spoiled generation to ever walk the earth, maybe it's time we changed it. Perhaps some elements of Halloween could be extended for just a few extra weeks.

Of course, Krampus! If you're unfamiliar with antiquated European folklore, Krampus was the mythical counterpart to St. Nicholas, who instead of bringing gifts to good kids, brought wrath and punishment to bad kids! And he looks like a badass demon! How in the hell could Krampus have been forgotten for so many centuries? Now it's time that he made a return to pop culture, to show these consumerist brats that the world doesn't owe them anything.

To show my appreciation, I'm going to leave some milk and cookies out for jolly ol' Krampus. Hope he likes oatmeal!

Language Lesson Pt.1: Using Words and Phrases to Command Fear and Respect

I want it to be known that I listen to the feedback of my loyal readers. I realize the last post was a little over everyone's heads (none of you watched The Torkelsons?) and that, maybe you've seen enough funny pictures and read enough puns. You want to actually learn something from the Waldo Faldo Journal. Something that will help you in daily life.


Well, I got you! It would not be right for me to be selfish with my language skills, so I am going to teach you how to write and speak with dynamic phrases and witticisms. I am giving you the gift of gab. 


So for the first lesson, we'll focus on things you can say that will make you come off as a badass. Unfortunately in traditional public school, they teach you the alphabet but then they don't bother to teach you how to punk motherfuckers out. So crack your knuckles, kiddos, and start studying these fundamentals of trash talk.

I Was That Man in the Moon Dorothy-Jane Torkelson Was Talking To

Hark -- I am the luminous wonder in the night sky; looking down, smiling upon you. As I direct shooting star traffic, I log your wishes and listen to your woes --  for these sentiments are the lifeblood flowing through my celestial body. For a young Oklahoman girl, I was not a myth, not a distant glow, but a true BFF. In the early 1990s, we sat together intimately on restless nights of longing, wistful contemplation; she had steam to blow off, I had light to shed. She was named Dorothy-Jane; an intelligent, pristine girl -- in fact, she was far more radiant than I. Her mind was filled with culture and keen thought, while her heart was filled with a deep longing for true love. It was a joy to spend time with the young lady and support her during those confusing teenage years.

But of course, back then, I was not the dashing luminary you see in this recent picture, or in tonight’s sky. Yep, back then I was just an awkward aeriform teen. Dorothy-Jane was in need of a father figure at the time, and better it be a sixteen-year-old soothsayer in the sky, than the musty old man who rented a room in her family’s home. For whatever reason, no one ever felt that comfortable around him.

Though candid, as our conversations were, Miss Torkelson and I have now decided to share these musings with all you hopeless romantics out there. May they be a guiding light in your lovesick darkness.

Dorothy-Jane: Man in the Moon, maybe I’ve been reading too much romantic literature. The more I read, the more fictitious it seems; and the more regrettably real real life seems. Don Juan seems as far-fetched as a talking unicorn. For I ‘ve always dreamed that a sweet Casanova would one day pursue my love as if it were magical, more desirable than a breath of air. He would charm and fawn over me until I fell infinitely into his arms. Oh well. Meanwhile back at the ranch, I have someone following me alright. A real suave gentleman -- Kirby Scroggins, Archduke of Hicksville. [Big Laugh Track]. I mean, Kirby’s sweet in his own way. Not sweet like Romeo, but sweet like a goofy pet dog. Or a pet hornet. [Laugh Track]. I can only hope that one day Kirby will get distracted by a stale Honey Bun and leave me the heck alone.

Me: Oh Dottie, I know how much film and literature can leave us disappointed with our reality. But that’s why we love art, it’s why we love dreaming. We need fantasy to appreciate life and vice versa.

But when it comes to Kirby, I believe you’re in an even grayer area, Dorothy-Jane. You say you want him to leave you alone, but he sure is handy to have around when you need a little attention, isn’t he? You have an inconsistent approach to your relationship with Kirby; you tend to treat him good or bad depending on your mood or level of confidence. Yet his adoration for you is as steady as clockwork. You don’t have to give him your heart, but you have to give him your respect. Men are confused by mixed signals, so don’t label Kirby a creeper when you sort of need his friendship. Temper your petulance, young one, and your dream man will one day adore you as a sound, sophisticated woman.

Dorothy-Jane: Man in the Moon, I am highly concerned about my brother, Steven-Floyd. He’s become a dreadful bully at school, and sometimes he smokes cigarettes! But worst of all, I just caught him stealing ten dollars from mother! That’s money she sorely needs and barely has. I haven’t tattled on him yet, but I don’t know what to say. Just the thought of more drama and confrontation disturbs me so deeply. I just want him to straighten up and be a good man for our family.

Me: Ok right now your hopes are up here (pointing above my head, way into the sky), so what you want to do is bring your hopes all the way down heaah (pointing not to, but just below my crotch). Did you have D.A.R.E class? Do you remember learning about methamphetamine? It’s going to be very popular in your town in a few years. The good news is, so will Steven-Floyd. That’s where he’s heading, Dot, I’m sorry to say. You and your family are gonna wind up moving to Seattle, and Steven-Floyd will not get to come. Oh, I forgot to mention, “spoiler alert.”

Dorothy-Jane: Oh, Man in the Moon! Perhaps love has finally come to me! Kenny-Ray Culver -- he’s captain of the basketball team, and president of the literature club! What a hunk.. Ohhh, and he’s finally asked me out on a date. We are to have dinner at a nice restaurant tomorrow night. But I’m so anxious, do you have any advice? How can I make it perfect?

Me: Just don’t fucking fart and you’ll be fine.

The Holiest Man In Football

I heard, to be a sports journalist, all you have to do is yell. And I said, 'shit, I can yell', so NOW I'M A SPORTS JOURNALIST AND I WROTE AN ARTICLE TO GET YOU READY FOR SOME FOOTBALL! I HOPE HANK JR'S RACIST ASS READS THIS. LET'S GO!

We live in an era where the greatest sports icon and most influential religious icon are the same man. No football player has ever been this exciting to watch or talk about. His die-hard fans positively adore him for his personal charm and wild athletic greatness. It also doesn’t hurt that they share the same beliefs. This man represents something greater than football, something greater than man. His inspirational locker-room speeches are considered to be modern gospel; his passion for football and God make him the spiritual leader of millions. And ironically, he's the back-up quarterback.

Epaulet's Quit With The Damn Epaulets Already

We will now be diving into a discussion of men’s fashion, and we must prepare to kill, or be killed. Our country has been under attack, and as stylish Americans, we will not fall to the tyranny of tacky clothes made in Bangladesh. How did we get here? Well, let’s start at the beginning...

World War II revived the American economy, ended Nazism -- and most importantly -- brought us dazzling fashion staples like pea coats and bomber jackets! Military influence has shown up in the fashion of every generation since WWII; details like patches and epaulets convey strength, masculinity, pride, and a very regal dignity.

In the 80s and 90s, America’s mightiest heroes took military fashion to a new foreign land: The Republic of GLAM!

Pictured above are two of my personal idols. Michael Jackson is unanimously revered worldwide, and there’s not much else I could say about the man. But I would love to take this opportunity to examine Bret “The Hitman” Hart, and why I wish I were him.

How could anyone dress that flamboyantly, and not come off the tiniest bit gay? I mean, not even a hint of homo. Seriously. Take a guy like Shawn Michaels; now, homeboy really had it going on. But he was just a touch effeminate -- which, hey -- is perfectly fine. But Bret Hart was just an ice cold killer, who was unquestioningly the straightest man to ever exist. And there he was, rocking pink tights, heart decals, and those radical shiny sunglasses.

The Best/Worst Jobs of the Information Age

Have you found a career in the cyber-economy yet? What, have you been living under a rock? Or a giant desktop PC? Well if you’re still using a landline telephone, you may not have received the news: the internet is everything! And there’s nothing else. You would literally be more of a real person if you existed only on the internet, as opposed to being alive physically with no internet.

This is especially the case with the job market. The Industrial Revolution was so long ago, even it’s Wikipedia page is dusty. These days we don’t make things, we make information. We buy, sell, and trade data; it’s what keeps the Google Earth™ spinning.

By the way, we don’t use Classified ads in printed newspapers anymore. (Where do you even get a newspaper?) We get our job postings from Craigslist, and we get our news from dumbass blurbs on Yahoo. And in that format, I am providing you with a guide on the best and worst careers of the Information Age.

The Best

Shady Dating Site Advertiser - You ever notice those creepy, fake-looking ads for “hot singles looking for hook-ups”? The one’s that say she lives right in your po-dunk town. But there's no way any girl could be that hot, that single, and that local, right? You always assume those girls don’t live in your town, that they don’t even exist. Well, they do. You don’t know it because you spend all your time on the computer, never even bothering to click on those ads! Really, that wouldn’t help you much anyway because the guys making the ads get first dibs. They’re like modern-day Mad Men: rocking chest tats, sick iPhone accessories, and badass t-shirts with crosses and studs and shit. A typical work day is nothing but snapping pics and tapping ass.

Ergonomic Program Director - There used to be a conception about office or computer jobs -- that they’re “cush jobs” because you’re inside in the air condition, you’re on a comfortable chair, and so on. But modern health crises have proven: sitting, clicking, typing, and staring at a screen all day eventually result in blood clots, carpel-tunnel, and arthritis. Even more frightfully, excessive computer use can result in miscarriages and impotence (this has not been medically proven, but more importantly, it hasn’t been disproven.) So companies everywhere enlist the services of an ergonomic consultant. He shows all the employees some stretches that will hopefully stall their physical deterioration, and then calls it a day. Talk about a cush job!

Twitter Medium - Because it’s a shame that the Twitter era and the Anna Nicole Smith era didn’t overlap. Could you imagine the kind of delightful nonsense she would’ve dropped on the world? Well you shouldn’t have to imagine it, you should be able to get the gossip live, even if the celeb is dead. That’s why the Twitter Medium will soon be one of the web’s most in-demand professions. And one the hardest-working Twitter Mediums happens to be yours truly; for I am the chosen one. Since earning my online degree with Hades University, I’ve worked non-stop double shifts. I spend all day on my Ouija Board iPad app, in a room full of skulls and candles. In the daytime I work as Andy Rooney’s Tweeter, and at night, I put on the CAPS LOCK and then I’M SAM FUCKING KINISON!! FUUUUUUUUUCK YOU!!!! 

Sex Predator Bait - We all know that To Catch a Predator, you need some pretty tantalizing prey. Before all the embarrassment and arrests go down, remember that there’s a very erotic and provocative romance that thrives over the internet between two illicit lovers. One thinks he’s wooing a kid, the other knows he or she is duping the bastard and drawing him into a humiliating trap. So when you consider the experience of the baiter -- ahem, as it were -- they are, by no means, playing a passive role in this lustful affair. Amongst the sexual language of the online courtship, the “kid” is flattered and sanctified as if they were a sacred, sensual wonder. The baiter experiences that praise, compounded with the rush of deceiving someone, and the sadistic thrill of ruining the predator’s life. So how is that not and exciting and titillating job?

The Worst

Youtube Copyright Violation Inspector - As technology evolved, so did piracy. And to keep up, all the big networks and record companies cracked down. Like some kind of web pesticide, anti-piracy measures take out illegally-distributed media, but leave a toxic trace. So now a lot of folks browse Youtube for a living -- but instead of entertaining themselves, they’re deleting the videos that violate copyright law. Sounds enjoyable, but is it safe? God, no! Because as anti-piracy measures intensify, so does piracy. And now pirates have to get nasty. Recently there’s been an outbreak of physical crime involving swords and canons and the slaughter of hundreds of Youtube moderators. Nowadays, if you get hacked, you literally get hacked. One minute you’re disabling the audio of an Usher song, the next you’re walking the plank; the only thing to “cease and desist” will be your life. ARRRRRR!

“Like” Launderer - Creating your Facebook profile is a lot of fun, right? You feel important because you get to talk about yourself and connect with others. Too bad you only get to make one profile... Well, that’s no longer true! Yup, you can get a job making profiles all day. Join the marketing department at any shitty restaurant. You’ll enjoy a stable career with a tedious routine: make fake profiles, leave flattering reviews, maintain a web of testimonial deceit. These days you got to have a certain Yelp ranking before people will even think about walking into your restaurant. So the escalating arms race never ends because every business does it. When “likes” are inflated for the sake of financial gain, they start to lose meaning. And if Facebook “likes” don’t mean anything, then nothing means anything. Life is just a waste. The world is HTTP Error code 404, Not Found.

Myspace Marketer - Some of the biggest firms in this diluted industry include ✩!JPZ!LPZ!~MUZ1©✩ and {SMACK.down} PROMOTIONS™. You’d be much more familiar with them if you had checked your Myspace since 2007. You probably have more spam in your inbox than a Doomsday Prepper’s apocalypse shelter. Maybe you should take this opportunity right now -- go ahead and check your inbox and see what “service” these people want to sell. They can get thousands of listeners for your band, including some of the biggest movers and shakers in the music biz! Did your screamo band break up? Well hell! Call up the guys, get out the guitars, because this is your chance to really make it big! Or maybe you don’t have any musical ability? Well lack of ability or talent never stopped any marketer! Not once in the history of marketing; this even goes for the promoters on the very, very, very bottom of the totem pole. By the way, where would you find “thousands” of Myspace users to listen anything*?

*(Superfluous answer to a rhetorical question: It appears people still use Myspace, but they seem to be mostly Middle-Easterners or Americans of Middle-Eastern descent. And let me clear! I am not racist! Only some Middle-Eastern people are Myspace users, and just because someone is of that creed DOES NOT mean they would be do something terrible to America, like use Myspace in 2012.)

Social Media Consultant - This is the job on this list that is real. But it really shouldn’t be. Marketers have convinced every type of business that their livelihood depends on an arbitrary ranking in the lightning-fast world of social media, where shit changes like -- BOOM! BOOM! BAM! -- every second! And it’s rough out there, not everyone can hang. Social media marketers are the fierce warriors in this thunderdome, battling and bickering for attention. They sometimes represent a company, but are ultimately out for themselves. One of today’s most precarious and competitive careers, the job prospects for social media consultants are contingent on self-promotion and the range and ubiquity of their ass-kissing. And there’s no forty-hour work week in this field; they gotta have the phone, laptop, and tablet on 24/7 or it’s a wrap. 

For example: there have been thousands of new tweets since you began reading the last paragraph. If you were a social media consultant, you’d already be ages behind the rest of the world, unless you were multitasking or conducting “market research” while you did a little recreational reading. Shit, you should’ve created three new hash-tags by now! As the social media rep for Tampax, your job is to make sure people are tweeting about Tampax! And you’re clearly not Tampax material, because it turns out that the heavy flow of internet babble is just too much for you.

So if I were to pick a career between social media consultant and janitor, all I have to say is, “Hand me the mop, boss!” It’s simply a matter of job security. Because social media jobs will all disappear the moment everyone stops obsessing over a flavor-of-the-week tech fad. Or when companies (see General Motors) base their social media presence on actual profits, rather than groupthink. Or when solar flares and/or asteroids disrupt satellite and electronic communication. These are just a few things that will completely eliminate the social media industry. That’s why you wanna be a janitor, cause the world’s always gonna be a damn mess.

For Basketball Reasons

At the moment, I'm swept up in the all the excitement of the NBA playoffs, so it's the perfect occasion to share some eccentric basketball-related thoughts. 

And we'll make it sort of a game. So before we get started, see if you can guess the name of this shape.

The Future of Commerce

Let us take a look into the crystal ball for a glimpse of the future; it’s the fascinating era of Really Late Capitalism! There are cultural clues all around us, telling our fortune and foreshadowing our fiscal fate. In this is reverse history lesson, we'll answer the question, "How bad is this gonna suck?"

In the free market heyday, businesses were in equitable competition with each other; the best product or service would supposedly attract the most customers. Unfortunately, greedy industry leaders have always been obsessed with reaching an abstract and intangible mega-profit, no matter what had to be destroyed along the way. Capitalism eventually reached an economic peak and subsequently began a fast and violent free fall.

Buy Out or Die Out

Capitalism’s rock bottom is a post-apocalyptic quagmire of economic atrophy. Starving for scarce profit, businesses desperately struggle for the last piece of market share, as one company after another meets its doom in bankruptcy court. The days of small business success have been over for, it seems like, eons. For years, shop owners such as Bob (from Bob’s Electronics) and Big Lou (from Big Lou’s Bar & Grill) have been buried in freshly-paved suburban graves. But now even corporate giants are looking down the barrel of the same gun, per capitalism’s inherent design. 

Further competition will only result in more casualties, so the only way for corporations to survive in this climate is to merge operations. Sort of like how people are always getting married, just because it takes more than one income to live. The great wave of corporate mergers results in some very bizarre combos -- or creates exciting, quality products for the consumer?

And no idea could be worse than being friends with your Exxon-Facebook...

Big Box Stores Are Big Busts; Little Mom and Pop Shops Are Giant Flops

Back in the good old days, Best Buy and its brethren had a real knack for undercutting the prices at Bob’s Electronics. But eventually, internet websites started doing the same to Best Buy’s business; online retailers didn’t have pesky capital expenses like rent and labor to interfere with their profits. So basically what happened next was every last retail worker got laid off and commerce began functioning almost exclusively on the internet. This is much easier to accept if you can get a good wi-fi signal in your cardboard box-home.

You might think, "Wow, so everything will be just shipped out of gigantic warehouses. But that means the big logistics companies will be doing great, right?"

Yes, the companies will doing great.

A Topographic Timeline of America

Pre-20th Century: Vast wilderness; amber waves of grain, purple mountain majesty.

Mid-20th Century: Dense clusters of glorious retail ziggurats.

21st Century: Dense clusters of deserted retail ziggurats.

Some say these empty shops are gloomy eyesores. But that's such a yuppie thing to say. Salt-of-the-earth-type people are more upbeat. Not only do they squat in these strip malls, but they furnish and decorate them, HGTV style!

Your Information is Their Business

Remember how boring and lonely Facebook was before advertisers took it over? It was so lame, like watching TV with no commercials. Like, you couldn’t do anything fun like “like” your favorite brand; it was just a stream of useless minutiae from loose acquaintances. I don’t care what what’s-his-fuck had for lunch, I want to change my relationship status to “Loves Starbucks!” Otherwise, I don’t believe it’s official.

So eventually advertisers gave us a good reason to spend hours and hours on Facebook. But companies kept needing more and more of our business and attention. And when you consider all the excessive personal data we carelessly catalog online, our favorite brands don’t need a survey to figure out exactly what we think. We might “like” them, but they might “lurk” us.

Secondhand Chic

Inside the chasm of the ravaged economy emerged an entirely new craze, the commodity: secondhand crap. Sure, flea markets and garage sales had always been around, but they were traditionally just niche conventions for cheapos and grifters. But in the future, this is going to be big business, and old junk is going to earn big bucks.

Back when the recession was just cranking up, websites like eBay served as sort of an underground railroad leading to somebody else’s shit. Before long the craze was in full swing. Virtual reality allowed us to rummage though the attics and closets of people all over the world. Thrift store fashions were more en vogue than anything on a Parisian runway. You didn’t need a shopping list, you just needed Craig’s list. And finally sex could no longer dominate television. The only thing we wanted to watch on TV was bargain hunters spelunking through barns in search of hidden treasures.

It was certain that this trend was here to stay. Another 2012-era certainty was that eventually, shit would hit the fan with China, the world’s leader in slave-driven manufacturing. So when international relations aren’t exactly hunky-dory, the only way Americans can be self-sufficient is to make do with the crap we already have sitting around. This means a new fiscal age, and you already know who’s in the driver’s seat.

The Economy: Fixed!

When the hoarders and hustlers of yesteryear have become the well-to-do elite, the American dream has been fulfilled, and economic prosperity pervades every class. Rich with relics of the good 'ol days, common folk propel into society's upper crust; the middle class is restored like a precious antique with a steep price tag. And used goods are the currency. If you want a better life, barter for it; if you don’t have a job, blame yo self.

If you have a one-bedroom apartment, stacked floor-to-ceiling with knick-knacks and whatsits, you sit on a veritable gold mine. If your front yard is loaded with plastic flamingos and an ’81 Plymouth, you’re rich and you want people to know it. Today these sound like partial Jeff Foxworthy jokes, but tomorrow, they will be success stories.

The future may look mighty strange, but it's easy to see how we’re getting there. However one thing will never change: whether it’s running a business or shopping at a garage sale, the absolute best way to get rich in The United States of Bank of America is still…

Steal.

I'm the Little Kid From 'Liar Liar' and I Declare War On Bullshit

Hi, I'm Max. One time, I made a birthday wish that my dad couldn't tell any lies -- and it worked! Then he got back together with mom and our lives were enriched. But lately I've noticed that my dad wasn't the biggest liar, the whole world is lying everyday! Everyone is lying to everyone, and it's sad. So I made a wish. I wished everyone's bullshit would dissolve and we could all believe what he see and hear. Let's call it like it is. It's OK if the truth is ugly, just be honest...