Monday, January 28, 2008

Recession Depression

Well, folks, I can smell the poop and I can hear the fan. It's really up to physics now. The bender doesn't end until the liquor store stops accepting your money, but, well, we seem to be down to that 'order more checks' slip in the national checkbook. So, it's hangover time!

Congratulations, America, on being a beacon of Denialocracy all these years. Evidently we've been robbing Peter to pay Judas. Who knew? I mean, besides The Eliminati and those of us with eyes and ears? Turns out the crazy guy with the 'End Is Near' sign was right all along -- but then, he had to be, yes? I mean, the odds were always in his favor, as long as you use the word 'near' in a Big Picture context.

Oh, by the way, speaking of depression -- do NOT, under any circumstances, regardless of what some jerkoff with a medical degree tells you, do NOT try Cymbalta. Just say no. Antidepressant, my ass -- it's not just an SNRI; it's an SFD. That's Slow Fucking Death. Poisonous shit, man. Trust me. Learn from my pain.

Anyway, back to the whole reason I had to start taking that crap in the first place: The Persistent Horror Of Impending Doom. Will it be a recession? Or GreatDepression2.0? You say tomayto; I say ketchup. What's the difference, really? The bottom line is that all empires crumble eventually, like tears in rain. Time to die.

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