Tell me more...

please...

Kudos to Gia Fozaroo for her artistic talents and brave execution of this masterpiece.

Read the rest of his "article."

Glad to see I'm not the only one feeling off today.

If there's one thing I hate, it's the insurance companies. When the revolution comes, they're going to be first against the wall, if I have anything to say about it. They are, to me, the monolith of capitalist evil. And despite the hard work of like-minded Americans, the insurance companies continue to power on like a Russian Steamroller that has fallen into radioactive ooze from Chernobyl and has multiplied to 17 times its original crushing power. They have become The Health Care Steamroller. The Health Care Steamroller robs people blind, makes families struggle to survive, makes sick people even sicker, and spits in all of our faces while doing it. Yet somehow, some of my friends, and many of my enemies, STILL defend the system. I wave my $8,600 healthcare bill in their faces (I get one of these every 7 weeks- with insurance, I wind up paying $45), but not a blink. I explain how I had to change jobs because I couldn't afford to pay more in health care costs than rent, per month. Nothing. Well, to all those humans who think the health care system in the U.S. isn't messed up, I offer you this letter:

That's right. Because I have a pre-existing condition, my health care company will not cover me for up to 12 months (Or, in scientific terms, A FUCKING YEAR) for treatment for this disease. In order to maybe, somehow, reverse this decision, I must have my old insurance company (Oxford) contact my new insurance company (Oxford) via mail.  Or, in scientific terms, HAVE THEM SEND A LETTER TO THEMSELVES. Now you tell me how that is OK. Do it. I dare you.

Last night was a beauty in NYC.  It was one of the few nights a year where you could walk outside, take a deep breathe, look at the cherry blossoms, and not feel like the pavement was winning.

I took advantage by hanging out in the local pub's yard (above), which is usually pretty empty except for the half-vandalized giant chess board, and the scuttling of Chris Christie-sized rodents.  But last night, as I sipped upon my drink, there was a fellow in the yard who was feeling about as happy about Brooklyn as I was.  Maybe even moreso, considering the amount of cocaine and Patriot Ale he seemed to have imbibed.

I think he was from Milwaukee, because he was wearing a Brewers hat, and as a Mets fan, I know you'd never pick a life like that on purpose. You're only born into it. Anyhow, Mr. Wisconson really wanted his friend to move out to Brooklyn.  Pacing around the yard, yelling like a little league coach, he spat out these pearls of wisdom:

Here were his words of encouragement:

• "What are you doing with your life, man? You're sitting on your ass eating flapjacks every morning. Come on!"
• "You're such a pussy, man. She sucks. Leave her. You're a pussy and you have to come out here now, man."
• "You suck, man."

Here were his life suggestions:

• "Be honest man, how much do you have on you, right now? 800 dollars?! Are you serious? I came out here with 125 bucks and I've been surviving here for a year. You're gonna be a king."
• "Just go beat one out, clear your head. Then call me back and tell me you're coming out here."
• "What's the worst that happens? You come out here, you hate it, and then you go back to her. Look at me- I'm doing great out here"

Someone get this guy a "born to be a therapist" bumper sticker.

I finally found you some Nacho Sticks, just in time for the John Jay Holy Days.

Quick: Rhinoceros or Sewing Shears. If you want to score 20% off of Mark Ecko clothing for your the rest of your life, you'll have to pick one.  Get a tattoo of either of the bad boys below, and you'll never pay the full $30 for a striped polo shirt again! My collar is poppin' just at the thought of it.

I'm thinking we should institute this policy on 2log. Maybe "Get the official 2log tattoo, and get 20,000 points per month, free!" Other suggestions?