And So Begins TMS Syndrome...

Hide the Halloween candy and break out the salt water hose.

Da-da's REALLLY Scary This Halloween...

Hey... ready for that playdate??

That Trick or Treat Echo

                                                                                                                                                   [img src]

The Worst Muffin Recipe in the World

Here's one Da-da made earlier. Like Brando said, "BRING ME THE BUTTER."

Mmm, Halloween means it's time for... uh, muffins. Yeah. It also means it's time for Da-da's favorite recipe. Great for kids. Great for scaring in-laws. Great for making things GREAT. Great. It's also perfect for making a happy Halloween memory. Enjoy.


  • 12 troy ounces of gold, seeded with Iridium (that's Element 192 to you)
  • 3 cups black truffles
  • 2 cups white truffles
  • 1 Higgs-boson
  • 2 teaspoons dark-matter epazote
  • 2 blowfish livers, chopped
  • 1/2 teaspoon sloth (ground and boiled)
  • 40 lbs. civet-bean coffee
  • 2 level cups Saharan yak lard
  • 2 teaspoons ground cinnamon
  • 2 teaspoons allspice
  • 2 teaspoons ground cloves (preferably Steve Kloves, Da-da likes his movies)
  • 2 teaspoons nutmeg
  • 2 teaspoons ground black centipede
  • 1 cup rhinoceros bile
  • 9 cups mummy powder (Kubrick dust works, too)
  • 3 gallons ghost chili oil
  • 3 cuckoo eggs
  • 3 architeuthis eggs
  • 7 dugong filets
  • dirt for garnish.
  1. Preheat oven to 10,000 degrees F (5538 degrees C). Grease 12 muffin cups or line with paper muffin liners. (Da-da is now saying that last sentence out loud.)
  2. Melt gold and pour into 12 cute little ingot molds. Let cool. In a very large bowl, mix wet ingredients. In an even bigger bowl (preferably hewn from a block of green jade), mix dry ingredients. Mix wet and dry together in a bowl cast from illegal moon ore. (Dick Cheney has two.) Set aside.
  3. Remove cute little gold ingots from molds and set aside. Scoop half the batter into prepared muffin cups, add gold ingots, then add rest of the batter on top.
  4. Bake in preheated oven for 2 to 25 minutes, until a toothpick inserted into the center of a muffin comes out clean, then bursts into flame. Let cool. Sprinkle with dirt and serve. O the sublime frugality. 

Nutritional Information 

Amount Per Serving:  Calories: 33 | Total Fat: 74000g | Cholesterol: 95053mg

Note1: these are best done with RADIOACTIVE NAZI GOLD. Use Kitchenaid Blast Shield when mixing ingredients. Note2: You Epicureans are no doubt wondering: "WHAT KIND OF DIRT?" Wellsir, Da-da prefers dirt collected from beneath the fingernails of congresspersons (yup, it's expensive, and takes a while to procure, but it's SO worth it); failing that, dirt from the center of Greenland is a fine substitution.

   (src: AVW)


That Buried Alive Look of Parenthood

"Honey, the boys locked me in the dungeon again.... Little help..."

That Buried Alive Look of Parenthood

"Honey, the boys buried me again..."

Wanna Snort Something Really Scary?

Coming Soon: DA-DA DUST!

Da-da got some interesting junk mail this past week: an offer for, "Free Pre-Paid Cremation!" Awesome. Despite the obvious shock and horror of being old enough to warrant junk death mail (Da-da's only 360 YO in cat years), the appearance of this item could be due to Da-da's haggard, mummy-like -- and permanent -- Mr. Mom Halloween costume.

Da-da's thinking of switching moisturizers.


Treater Trick

And ma-ma's a prophylactic. We're CLASSY, ok?

Of Goat Cleanliness, Rapturian Moments of Inertia, and Donuts LEFT BEHIND


Something is just plain wrong with our Emergency Rapture System... at least for humans. Turkeys and piggies and fish (see above) are currently styling with dodos and dinosaurs, spiritually. However, in regards to the Human Rapture Proper -- which was supposed to occur... well, five months ago, and then either last week or this week, who knows -- but should The Rapture finally strike, this blog thing will be officially unDa-da'ed, 'cause Da-da's elbowed his way to first in line for that big drive-in concession stand in the sky. No, really. God called and said that little 'goat-in-the-dishwasher' incident was no big deal. Lots of people do that. Alas, Da-da fears he got Left Behind AGAIN, this time with all of these jelly donuts. And clean goats.

Hi. I'm clean now. Where's my donut?

Elvis' Ghost, Tires and the Other Side (or, "Where the Rubber Meets the... HUH?")

Da-da's backyard is BIG, Dracula.

Da-da was sitting in a tire store the other day – just for fun – when something occurred to him. There are lots of cars in the world, right? And each one has, presumably, four tires. And each of those tires is rolling and abrading and wearing and tearing to the tune of serious consumer moolah. So?

A recent worldometer study noted that approximately 500 million cars had been produced in the last decade alone, and about 1B+ cars and trucks are on global  roads today, which translates into... oh, 4B+ tires. That’s a lot of tires. (Da-da knows, he has a million in his backyard next to all the barrels of radioactive waste.) And at $80 a tire… well, let’s just say for the sake of argument that there’s roughly $500 billion in rubber and a bunch of questionable grammar grinding away at any given time. A natural question to ask is: where the flock are the giant piles of tire dust?

Wouldn’t you expect there to be huge black piles of tire dust on the sides of every interstate, what with all these tires rolling and wearing all over the place? Is it being absorbed by the road surfaces? Or are the tire manufacturers impregnating the rubber with tire-eating bacteria, to not only take care of the tire dust problem, but also to keep our precious sets of tires wearing and deteriorating predictably to perpetually boost their bottom lines? What’s going on at the molecular level? Can people be allergic to tire dust? Can it be ingested? Will it make Da-da's children go to sleep faster? Is it good in beer? Are these questions making you wanna OCCUPY DA-DA? (There are a lot in there, already; bring hors d'oeuvres and a perky zin.)

99% of the info out there revolves around telling you what to do when your tires wear out and how many exciting (read EXPENSIVE) new choices you have for boring old tires, blah blah blah... [SNORE]... ah, but not HOW they wear. AhA! Reams of data exist on tire size vs. load requirements, traction, tread wear, temperature, how to make old tires into modern office buildings, how to make tire-enchilada caseroles, how great that tire casserole would look on your HEAD... that kinda thing. All the rubber geeks (that’s what they like to be called) talk a good game, hiding behind stalwart phrases like, "proprietary optimized component" and "univolume torpometric reduction." Awesome. But what happens when the rubber literally meets the road? (You were waiting for that one, right? You're so LUCKY.)

After some truly exciting research on road surfacing, Da-da finally found a DuPont engineer, Gregg Babcock, who seemed to know his stuff -- and who may or may not have been in a joking mood. Da-da asked him what happens when a tire wears on an Elvaloy-coated road surface (Elvaloy being a DuPont chemical coating for roads to make them last longer). Note that this is what the guy actually said, Da-da's not making this up.

“Tire rubber on DuPont Elvaloy roads is disposed of by Elvis,” said Babcock with a straight face. “We have an exclusive contract with him to dispose of rubber from Elvaloy roads. He takes it with him to the other side. [Italics courtesy Da-da.] Our COMPETITION, on the other hand, lets it sit on the side of the road, where bacteria eats it. The bacteria love the oil in the rubber. Don’t quote me on the Elvis thing, the King might not like it.” Oops.

Da-da then asked him what really happens to the rubber.

“Seriously, the bacteria is what eats the rubber,” he said. “I don’t know the exact details, but some form of naturally occurring bacteria just adore the high surface-to-volume ratio created by rubber wearing against the road. The bacteria eat the rubber getting at the oil. I don’t have any papers or anything detailing the process.”

Well. We can all sleep better knowing that all the tires in the world are slowly being ingested by countless legions of hungry Elvis-worshipping bacteria. Makes you wonder what else they’re eating. At least it should, MISTER TEXTING WHILE DRIVING. This of course will only remain important until that time when we don't need roads, which will be soon. No, really.

1.21 gigawatts... RIGHT THERE.


ATTACK OF THE SONS OF... The Hirsute Horror of Justin Bieber

Behold the horror of All the Pretty Biebers (someone's been busy). You think "Chipmonk Christmas" is bad...
(OK, this is the last one of these Cousin Bieber-IT things, Da-da promises. Just another one-hit wonder.)

The Hirsute Horror of Justin Bieber IN MOTION

Fresh from Cousin Bieber's recent caddie adventure (what, you didn't know?), the one-boy hairbearbunch took to piloting his vintage single-speed Schwinn at well over 3 mph, dodging gardeners and paparazzi and amateur taxidermists all the while. O the hirsutian humanity.

The Hirsute Horror of Justin Bieber


This just in. Da-da's apologies to you Donny Osmond Justin Bieber fans, but as it turns out, the poor kid has a rare form of reverse-alopecia called, "hirsutism," so in a few scant years he'll look like this:

Poor Cousin Bieber. Then again, he'll always have a job in movies.

Even worse, hirsutism is HORRIBLY CONTAGIOUS, so anyone he's ever touched will look like this in minutes:

Cousin-Bieberitis isn't pretty.

Da-da Taunted By Nuns

"We're not ha-aaving children! We're not ha-aaving children! Bree-der, NYA NYA!"

Yup. It's almost Halloween.


That Dracula Look of Pre-Parenthood, or...

...How I Bit Your Mother. (Ow. Sorry.)

That Great Pumpkin Look of Parenthood

This works on so many levels.

"Da-da, Will UFOs Land Here Soon?"

Da-da's oldest just asked, "Da-da, will UFOs land here soon?" Apparently, some kids in his class were discussing it (in 1st grade?), perhaps because UFO sightings were double their regular numbers this past summer. Or their little brains are being broadcast an image of Devil's Tower, Wyoming, that they will soon be sculpting with mashed potatoes and/or shrubs and mud from the front yard. Da-da tried to give an honest set of answers, but you have to wonder why the UFO numbers doubled. If true, what are they looking for? Or is it psych conditioning from the media, driven by TV and movies? Or is it quasi-leakage from an adjacent tachyon reality? So much phlogiston. Anyway, here's what went down:
Nagurski: "Da-da, Will UFOs land here soon?"
Da-da: "Mmm, not sure. I doubt they will, officially, so that everyone knows about it."
Nagurski: "Why not?"
Da-da: "Because humans can't get along. They're tribal."
Nagurski: "Like Native Americans?"
Da-da: "Yes, but with less sense and no feathers."
Nagurski: [laughs, but how did he know this was  funny?] 
Da-da: "And no gaming licenses. You see, if there are advanced beings watching the earth, they're probably waiting for us to come together, as a group, and to stop treating our brothers as targets. [pause] Everyone is your brother. And unless people recognize the need for unity -- that is, everyone getting together -- we can't move to the next level."
Nagurski: "Isn't that what politicians do?"
Da-da: "No. All the government does is math. They divide. They multiply. They subtract. Set all that equal to zero and you've got a pretty lousy equation."
Nagurski: "Huh?"
Da-da: "Never mind. Politicians care about politics, which is who controls who and what and how much. Like who controls all the toys. Imagine how much fun that would be, being the Toy Police.
Nagurski: "But when will the UFOs land?"
Da-da: "As soon as you and your brother get along every day for a year -- and share everything. And work together. And do everything your Ma-ma and Da-da ask you to do the first time we ask."
Nagurski: "That's a long time, Da-da."
Da-da: "Right."
"Hey, you kids. Who's your Da-da?"


The Apocalypse is Overrated

Why trick-or-treat when you can gas and invade? Note: all mustard gas canisters come with free hot dog!

Gut Morning!

As this is primarily a parenting horror blog, all parents who have to dose their kids with antibiotics (um, that's like everyone) should read this report:
Antibiotics can permanently destroy gut flora balance, leading to lifelong illness

(NaturalNews) Overuse and overprescription of antibiotic drugs has become a widely known culprit in causing the emergence of antibiotic-resistant "superbugs," as well as the onset of digestive and other health problems, caused by the elimination of beneficial gut flora. But a new review published in the journal Nature suggests that such gut flora alterations could be permanent.

Professor Martin Blaser from New York University's (NYU) Langone Medical Center has been studying the long-term effects of antibiotics on gut flora, which has already confirmed a definitive link between antibiotics and the disruption of beneficial bacteria in the digestive system. But what his research also seems to confirm is the possibility that such disruption might be permanent, at least in some individuals, and thus carry with it lifelong health consequences.

"Early evidence from my lab and others hints that, sometimes, our friendly flora never fully recover," writes Blaser in his shocking editorial. "These long-term changes to the beneficial bacteria within people's bodies may even increase our susceptibility to infections and disease. Overuse of antibiotics could be fueling the dramatic increase in conditions such as obesity, type 1 diabetes, inflammatory bowel disease, allergies and asthma, which have more than doubled in many populations."
Jeez, what else will we find modern medicine and science destroying? Besides everything in existence. Carl, care to show us the future?


It's Friday...

...time for the genie in your oven to explode.

The Vintage HORROR of... THE SPECIAL

Hm. Everyone looks a lot happier than they did in the 1966 original. We all did. <img source>

Uh oh. Get out your galoshes. Looks like a cranial NOSTALGIA STORM is brewing...

"It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown" is on again, somewhere, sometime soon. So what, right? You already own it, or have seen it a thousand times. But it's actually a big deal. In the old days, back before lichens and ice had broken rocks down into soil, "Great Pumpkin" and "Charlie Brown Christmas" and "Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer" were on only ONCE a year. They were specials. They all started with this (at least in the '70s):

Awesome. Anyway, if you missed these specials, you had to wait another year for them to come back around, for there were no VHS or DVD players. Of course, kids today have all their parent's nostalgic fetish properties on DVD, so they're always available, but they will always be specials to Da-da for many reasons.

Specials like these are still a friendly reminder of a world without smart phones, without people staring at smart phones -- while they drive. Or eat. Or use the restroom. A world without people practicing auto-iPod isolation, without video games devouring hometime, without homework for kindergarteners, without tiresome political tug-o-wars and constant long division mud-slinging and media manipulation. Specials like these represent a Lost World where only three channels existed -- which was nice, because everyone watched the same things and talked about them the next day in a kind of psychoneurasthenic lingua franca; today there are so many things on, so many choices, that fewer and fewer people have anything in common enough to talk about -- and where the weather was so much more predictable.

This was a world where secondary schools were fully funded and stable (imagine that), the teachers happy, the administration not as important or as highly paid, the classrooms rich with educational supplies, films -- FILMS, silly documentaries you could make fun of endlessly, an A/V geek running the projector  -- where every child was NOT left behind, where standardized testing hadn't been invented, and where a college education was not only actually worth something, it was infinitely cheaper.

Sure, there was still fear (Vietnam, The Cold War), but it wasn't as prevalent or as paralyzing as it is today -- or as secret; today the government keeps everything secret, because if everyone knew what was being done with their tax dollars, 100 million people would march on Washington, DC and heads would roll... not that the media would cover it. Back then, the media still provided checks and balances against the military industrial complex. Today, the media is gone, bought and sold and useless except to keep you interested in buying things; it's now all one long commercial. Da-da turned it OFF, pays no attention to it whatsoever. Ok, except for college football. (Even college football back then was about THE SPORT, and not the money.)

One of the nicest things about those olden days (which of course had problems, but were such naive, "open" problems in retrospect) was that people could pretty much walk around their neighborhoods without fear, without being looked at like they were casing the joint, without being runover by drivers trying to keep up with their texts/email. Parents could let their kids go play outside without worry. People communicated more in person, and with letters, ah... letters slowed business to a pace that was human. Less tied to a clock, wWe used to have more time to chat with one another; talking is a better and faster way of communicating... that's why talking was invented. The same pointless (sub)texting "conversations" that you're having all day could easily take place in two minutes face-to-face. Now business requires a 24/7 commitment and everyone is typing at each other endlessly while everyone's trying to keep up with what everyone's typing endlessly and failing miserably, and everyone's so goddamn busy (or pretending to be so people leave them alone). Computers were supposed to make our lives better, but all they do is allow less people to do more work, so the rest of us stand around and think about old TV specials. Or watch Oprah. (Does anyone really watch Oprah?) Or do driftwood sculpting. (Hey, Da-da's driftwood sculpture would make you cry, like an italicized little girl.)

Above all that, the PACE of life was soooooo much slower, the holidays richer, Halloween safer, and the coffee... well, the coffee sucked. The future has much better coffee. Ah, but the past had drive-ins, cheaper food and gas. YES, you say, but the future has... well, it has coffee.

So, Da-da's here to tell you that there is a way back to those halcyon days, part of them, anyway.  If you're tired of the rat race, if you're tired of the insane pace of school, of self-imposed 24/7 international business deadlines, tired of endless email, voicemail, texts, tweets, Da-da posts, tired of eating breakfast/lunch/dinner while driving 90 mph in the fast lane and getting passed... there is something you can try, an ontological speedbump that can be... bumped... a kind of STASIS, if you will, that is available. It's called: PARENTHOOD. Taa-daa! Ah, there's the real Halloween special. Horror and time warps like you've never experienced. Suddenly, it's not 2011. It's not 1966. It's more like 10,066... BC.

"Honey, after we have some sloth tacos, I've got an idea..."


The PTA Has Risen From the Grave...

...and has had waaaay too much coffee. Da-da went to an early coffee get-together for parents of kids from his youngest's preschool, and they were all suited up and READY FOR ACTION. Needless to say, Da-da didn't need that many roundhouse kicks to the head at 9:30 in the morning. One or two are plenty, Mrs. Norris. Luckily, Da-da prepared for the meeting in advance.

Forget It Jake, It's Zombietown

AIIEIIEE! Get your shoes on it's time for school! And don't forget your BRRRAIN...


That 99-to-1 Look of Parenthood

Da-da's Listening To...

Waitaminute... Da-da IS a big woman! Well, maybe he's just big boned.

How to Firmly Grasp The Tender Short Hairs of the Ruling Class While Creating an Awesome Donut Utopia

Ok, it takes Da-da longer to focus, now. So what?
While Da-da is no revolutionary (he's too busy wrangling SANDWORMs), Da-da admires those who put people and principles above money; Da-da even wrote a novel and another book of parody exploring such anti-Capitalistic fantasia, basically asking what it means to be human in an increasingly inhuman, corporate world.

So, what's Corporate America all about? It's about money. Alas, America and the entire world has become all about money, at least for a lot of folks. Maybe it always was, except for small pockets of enlightened humanism that used to get better press. Anyway, like many parents, Da-da wants a better world for his kids, a better world for your kids, for everyone's kids. What the Occupy Wall Street folks have done is admirable, but is occupying spaces all around the world going to effect any real change? It might raise awareness, but those with the reins only care about the money, and you camping in a park isn't gonna stop the wheels of commerce. So, what's Da-da' bright idea?

As Da-da said, if you want to get Wall Street's attention -- and the attention of the politicians and media outlets they own -- just look at the money, and the fear and arrogance that goes hand in hand with it. What's Wall Street's biggest fear? That you'll stop buying things. That you'll stop spending money.

Yup. If everyone in the world picked one day, or one weekend, or one day every week for an entire year (e.g., "Wednesday becomes NoSpendsDay") and vowed not to spend a single dime on that day or weekend (say after Thanksgiving, or on media holidays like Valentine's Day, etc.) -- THAT would get the attention of the 1%-ers. That would seize their short hairs. When mindless consumers spend money like crazy 24/7, the 1%-ers make money. When they stop, the spigot stops. No sales taxes are generated. No moolah flows into 1%-er coffers, and the wheels of commerce grind to a halt. Simply stopping all consumer spending on a global scale one day a week sends a powerful unifying message.

It's also a good exercise in self-restraint, one that reduces consumerism. If you honored just one no-spending day a week, multiplied it by 52, and saved that moolah, you'd have a nice chunk at the end of the year to pay down your student loan, or give to a local school, or buy donuts for 5000 of your closest friends. You could put the money in the bank, but Da-da's unsure of the stability and efficacy of banks these days (credit unions are actually a better bet), so howbout a mason jar? No matter. Bottom line: we're talking about creating a Donut Utopia, right here on earth.

If you've ever been around any 1%-ers (Da-da has), many are notoriously cheap, and often claim poverty over spending any of their own money. This is because the rich don't like to spend their own money. They like to spend your money. Ok, so don't give it to them. Don't think of it as a protest. Think of it as a lesson in personal wealth. In Da-da's case, this is more a fact of life than a moral choice, as Da-da's got about $3 and a moldy acorn to last the next three weeks. (Anyone want to buy a moldy acorn? Once owned by STING... or was it Tom Cruise? Penelope Cruise? Princess Cruises? Oh, well. You don't pays your money and you do keeps your chance at a future Donut Utopia, perhaps already in progress... that is, if the Grammar Police don't arrest Da-da for that last vintage-y sentence, but they like donuts, too, so no worries.

1 Marine vs. 30 Cops (Marine Wins)

Too good not to share. Best watch it now before YouTube yanks it (YouTube is starting to remove protest videos at the censoring demands of various govts. Interesting.) Note: Vimeo might have a more open video policy.


That Ultimate Look of Parenthood

Pretty much says it all.

The Atlantic is Sinking

Da-da subscribes to The Atlantic Monthly. He doesn't like to subscribe to anything but cooking magazines, as social commentary publications are usually so late to the table as to be nearly worthless. He subscribed to The Atlantic because the bulk of his frequent flyer miles were being held for ransom, and Da-da had to burn 1200 miles in magazine subscriptions or risk losing them all. Needless to say, Da-da doesn't fly Untied United anymore. Indeed, Da-da rarely looks at The Atlantic -- or any magazine or newspaper or news site -- as Da-da is constantly refereeing micro-bouts and shuttling lawn gorillas and writing about how little time he has (hey). But yesterday, while the boys were drawing pictures of psychoneurasthenic Pokemons, Da-da opened the November issue of The Atlantic. It kinda made Da-da sick:
Pages 1-2: a Boeing ad painting a blissfull 2-page spread of 1%-ers in First Class revelling in their smart international purchases. They're all white, of course, though the woman up front has a scarf over her head, barely suggested a Muslim influence to appear fair and unbiased. Ayuh.
Pages 4-5: a DOW chemical ad showcasing kites and storm clouds. Cheery! Confusing!
Page 6: a Merrill Lynch, "wealth management" ad, aimed at 2%-ers. (2%-ers are the inheritors of the 1%-ers.)
Page 11: a friendly Allstate ad with a hearse, trying to influence Beltway teen driver legislation.
Page 13: gobbledegook IBM ad about how dumb our current clouds are.
Page 15: a First Republic Bank ad showing smiling future inheriting 1%-er wannabes in a swanky kitchen.
Pages 16-17: Hyundai ad trying to make you buy a hybrid, then go have a steak. Good for the environment!
Page 19: a Shell ad highlighting how much we depend on oil companies, prompting us to, "LET'S GO." Yeah. Go.
Page 20: an Apple AppStore ad that tries to appear humanistic by roasting Colin Powell, and touching on the welfare of children and religion, among other windows of whatever -- all on an iPad, o'course, made by corporate slaves. (It's ok, Da-da can say that, as he used to be one.)
Page 25: a Delta ad bragging about their legroom, eclipsed alas by everything else they do.
Page 27: a f*cking Goldman Sachs ad. Unbelievable. And maddening...
NOTE: At this, Da-da closed the magazine and tossed it in the trash.
Then he thought it might be interesting to write about all this,
so he yanked it back from the abyss for 15 minutes.
Page 29: a vaguelly Mayanistic (and busy) Ford ad about, "long-term quality." Ha! Da-da's too many Fords to buy into that one.
Page 31: an amazing Hilton ad with an aging 2%-er/hipster (jeans and boots and swanky leather belt tossed akimbo) eating a cheeseburger and having a beer and watching BOXING on TV and reading a newspaper (really?) -- while soaking in a tub? Manly crossover illustrating that some 2%-ers are so-ooo down-to-earth. Sure.
Page 33: British Airways ad. Da-da likes British Airways.
Page 35: Intel ad blasting meaningless words like, "Next Generation" across from a picture of C3PO and an article about the future of robot speech. Yay, talking robots. Let's shoot for 100% robotic employment.
Page 37: Credit-Suisse ad trying vainly to hitch its dullard star to Alan Gilbert, director of the NY Philharmonic. Was that really necessary, Alan?
Pages 38-39: another Ford ad bragging about a Mustang's 305 horsepower and 31 mpg ratings, then adding how this combo will, "blow people away twice." Um, besides cops everywhere acting as city revenue generators by writing tickets for literally every moving and non-moving violation, most folks should know that, A) You stomp on the gas a lot, you get not only a ticket and higher insurance premiums but also, B) about 5 mpg. Hello?
Page 41: a grumpy 2%-er MSNBC ad that aims to know how to, "turn the economy around," capping it off with Da-da's favorite tagline: "LEAN FORWARD." And barf.
Page 43: Conrad Hotels ad with young 3% hipsters in love, living the good life in China while everyone in the kitchen around them does all the work. The hipster dream.
Page 45: a natural gas ad by... someone... drumming out safety and precision, yes sir.
Page 46: Big Pharma ad. Yeah, you're gonna cure us of something. Keep at it.
Page 49: bland Prudential ad from the early '80s.
Page 51: Hitachi ad unveiling that bright and shining future of Hitachi, cajoling us to, "Inspire the Next." Inspire the next what?
Page 55: requisite Mercedes ad, aimed at 2%-ers whose children will only be safe in a Mercedes.
Page 57: another investment bank.
Page 59: a southern power company that's, "turning ideas into power." What kinda power we talkin' about, master?
Page 61: Siemans ad about an underground substation in Anaheim, CA. If you'd ever been to Anaheim, you'd wanna be underground, too.
Page 65: another investment bank.
Page 67: another chemical firm.
Page 69: same chemical firm.
Page 73: BMW ad paying short shrift to "revolutionaries." Lame.
Page 75: BMW ad again, this time whining about sustainable cities with no cars. Ayuh.
Page 77: University of Phoenix distance learning ad. Da-da won't besmirch those seeking advanced degrees, but the results are kinda pricey.
Page 78: University of Phoenix again.
Page 81: a TOBACCO ad, wow, highlighting "additive free natural tobacco." Riiiiight.
Pagess 83-126: tame and quasi-lame ads, but ok, for the most part, except for the article on how employed women are inheriting the earth and unemployed men are spastic nerfbags unworthy of marriage. Want a Y-chromosome? Go to a sperm bank and roll the dice, babe.
Page 127: an ad for Lockheed Martin. Why?
Page 131: another goddamn ad for Shell.
Pages 132-160: requisite Atlantic ads for cigars and reading glasses and MLA guides, etc.
Inside back cover: ad for Korean Air, yeah right. They get shot down.
Back cover: a moronic De Beers' diamond ad influencing suckers into wasting "two months salary" for a goddamn special polished rock with a goddamn special De Beers' mark. Crapola. Instead, buy moissonite and use the extra $8000 for a trip to Paris. And Italy. And Venice. And Ireland. And Peru. Or better yet, use the money to EMIGRATE to a G7 country with a growing economy. Memories and lifetimes are made outside of De Beers.

And then... The Atlantic's 15 minutes were up. To wrap-up, approx. 90+ ads in the November 2011 Atlantic, or over 50% of the book, was sponsored by felonious investment banks and predatory insurance firms and shameless oil and chemical and tobacco companies, oh and strategically wasteful defense contractors, et al. Sure, The Atlantic isn't as bad as say, POPULAR MECHANICS, which is basically one giant, embarrassing ad for the armed forces and Uncle Adolph's military-industrial complex, but still. Pick up any magazine from any era and look at the ads -- like VOGUE which is ALL ads, talk about moolah -- crack the book, look inside and you'll easily see which side their head's buttered on. Da-da chooses not to support rapacious corporations in any shape or form, or any of their sycophantic minions, even if they are scantily clad.

That said, Da-da knows it's hard to sell ad space in this economy ("We have kids, too, you know," they'll whine), but if you have to pander to the 1%-er vending machines to survive, you might as well close up shop and work at Trader Joes, as you're just propagating the values of a dying world, otherwise. Mercifully, this was Da-da's last issue (and Da-da has a lot of issues); The Atlantic sent 47, "Renew Now For Only $29.99!" cards, but... come on guys, aren't you making enough from those sucky advertisers already?

Da-da used to like The Atlantic. The articles are still first rate, but Da-da just can't stand seeing 1%-er kowtowing become so blatant. Perhaps this is indicative of all ads in magazines, Da-da doesn't subscribe to very many. The good news is that all of those corporations will one day be dust, dead and forgotten.

Ok, now someone's gonna bitch about Da-da being a Republican, or a Liberal, or a Nazi, or somesuch silly obsolete label they don't understand (you know who you are), but hold those black steaming horses, Dracula. Don't forget, Da-da's the founding member of THE SANDWORM PARTY, and the spice MUST FLOW. Oh, and Baron... your 15 minutes are up.

Time to come back down to earth, fat boy. The old days are ending.
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