I see they’re about to start selling us shoes that tie themselves. Seriously. I wonder if they’re going to call them loafers. I also wonder if we’ve gotten just a little too self-ish for our own good.
A guy came up to me last week and tried to sell me a handkerchief that blows itself. I’m not even sure what that means, although I was curious and weak and I bought one. I put it in my pocket and forgot about it. Later I heard the sound of a honking goose coming from my pants. I reached in and pulled out a slimy rag and a note that said “I hab a code. Got any eye boo pope in?”
I complained. The guy who sold it asked if I’d thought of making some chicken soup and pouring it into my pocket. When I shouted “No!” he rolled his eyes and, though I tried not to, I felt lower than a stinkbug’s bowling average.
He offered to sell me a spanking-clean handkerchief that came with a self-spanking, hanky (panky) attachment. But I wasn’t born yesterday. Nor last week. Nor in a year that starts with a 2. Nor in a decade that had fun. Look, I’ve been around the block–in a taxi, yes, but with a scary looking driver. I left a written tip: “Wearing pants might get you a couple of foldos from your next fare, pal.”
Anyhoo, there’s this new selfie based on the premise that the truth hurts — and therefore is often hard to hold onto. For instance, “All men are created equal,” is a truth we hold to be self-evident. Some, however, just can’t get a handle on the obvious. Now they can buy a Self-Evident Truth Holder for bigots (aka BIG SETH). Pathetically, it holds painful truths far enough away from your body that you won’t get any on you. BIG SETH is selling well in Trump country and what’s left of Antarctica.
Have you ever said “Well, I’ll be a monkey’s uncle?” but you never pulled the trigger? There’s this guy in a kiosk at the mall who is selling a gel that you rub on your bald spot and it immediately transforms you into a self-made monkey’s uncle. (Women become a self-conscious monkey’s aunt.) There’s also a reversing goo that will undo the monkey business so you can go back to being just another self-loathing primate in the community zoo. You still have the bald spot.
What will they come up with next? You know that many new cars come with a push button starter. But did you know they’re coming out with a self-starter button that can be implanted in your dead ass?
Seriously. No longer will we have to put up with bosses who holler “Get your butt in gear!” It will be humming and cooking with gas from the moment each morning you step into your self-annihilating cubicle.
Called “Butter Up!” you can set an alarm for whenever you want to get your rump rolling in the morning. In case you don’t, there’s a convenient remote control device for significant others to both open and close the garage door, record as many as 12 shows at once (as soon as they make 12 watchable shows) and hurtle your heinie out of bed. Right about now, those self-tying shoes begin to make sense, no?
By the way, I’m now at work on a pet project of my own. I haven’t yet named it, but essentially it’s a self-steaming, self-esteemer. It’s perfect for inflating the ego into an enormous gas-bag, and, speaking of enormous, very handy for your other implements of self-delusion.
©Patrick A. McGuire and A Hint of Light 2013-2016, all rights reserved.