Bartering Is An Art

I love craigslist.  Whatever you need, you’re sure to find a relevant posting about it somewhere on the site.  Need a car?  A job?  A toaster?  A girlfriend (for just the night and/or more long term)?  Good ol CL has it all!  Unfortunately, there’s one, awful, terrible aspect of craigslist that really can’t be ignored.

The fact that other people are involved.

“I know your asking price is $3000….I’m a little short on the cash part so how about $50, two movie passes and I cook for you for one week?…..No?  Fine….I don’t normally do this sort of thing but 2 weeks of cooking, including dessert, and 5 sexual favors!”

What actually get’s me the most about craigslist is that I used to immediately discard poorly written emails/text messages because I assumed they were scams.  When I responded back to a lovely woman about a certain ring I was selling, she told me she was windsurfing in the Azores but would send me a Western Union cashier’s check and an extra $300 for my troubles.

Not sure if its a scam... Or once in a lifetime deal 300x298 Bartering Is An ArtShe was just so darn nice about it and had such good grammar that I still wanted to deal with her over everyone else.

On the bright side, I still immediately dismiss poorly written texts and emails.  Mostly because my selling standards are way higher than that and I want to make sure my stuff is going to a good home.

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The Real Meaning Of Thank You

The problem with memorial day is people always try to bring you down.  We’re all trying to just get our grill on and wade out into some brown jersey water and we’re beset on all sides with people saying shit like “Hey, did you thank a vet today?” Uh, yea, you see me with this delicious burger, don’t you?  What better way to celebrate vets and america than eating beef and watching nascar?  They didn’t all die for tofurkey and electric cars, no sirrebob!

That’s one thing that has really begun to irk me on this particular weekend.  Oh sure, the true meaning of the holiday has long been lost in a cloud of carbon monoxide, charred meat smoke and 50% off furniture (this weekend only!!).  But in truth, the original meaning of “dying for your country” has been gone for an even longer time.

This weekend is remembering those Americans that died in wars, past and current (and in wars formerly known as wars).  Much, much more importantly, however, is remembering just what they died for.  The most important takeaway from this weekend and this blog is not to post a picture on facebook or say thank you to one of those Vietnam vets with the awesome trucker hats, it’s to really think about what those men and women died for.  Rather, ask “Did they really die for a good cause?”

The party line of “defending America” and all that other patriotic horse shit is an easy whitewash when it comes to remembering the wars.  For the most part, no, they didn’t die for a good cause yet we continue to blithely turn a blind eye to it because we “support the troops.”

My point is, we say thank you because that’s what we’re supposed to do.  It’s so ingrained in us to support the military nowadays that it’s blasphemous to question their mission, whatever it may be.

So this weekend, enjoy the burgers, blackout in the comfort of your backyard and eat so much salsa that you start talking with a Mexican accent (done and done), but take it one step further this time.  Saying thank you this weekend doesn’t mean anything.  Not because you weren’t there or can’t understand the sacrifice those men and women made.

No, it doesn’t mean anything because it only adds to our national belief that whatever the military does is right and good.  However most times, it is far from that.


Vietnam war mem3 300x225 The Real Meaning Of Thank You

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It’s 15 feet from the sign, right?

After being forced to choke on my rage induced spittle from Philly drivers, their is one other really god awful thing about this city. If your an avid philly sports fan, I imagine all their chokes are probably above  this…especially if you live with a Steelers fan…

But god damn the parking in this city.  I mean not only do 1.5 million people live here but, apparently, there’s only 45 parking spots.  To be fair to the city planners, there are way too many “4 bedroom homes” for rent that are really just a 1 bedroom cut into fourths with an “updated kitchen” consisting of a stainless steel microwave and a giant cooler.

So we’re all forced to play chicken as we race around the block, blow stop signs and cut off pedestrians in the cross walk in some mad hope that we get to an open spot before some other asshole that has only been waiting for 5 minutes does.  And then there’s that inevitable mistake we always make too.

The open spot 9 blocks away.  You know it’s not going to be there the next time you come back around.  But, seriously, fuck that.  I’m not walking 9 blocks.  That’s why I have a car, right?

But what drives me mad is when I see someone parked half a car length from the “No parking from here to corner” sign.  What.The.Fuck.  Are you saving a spot for your friend with a smart car?  Are you being extra cautious so PPA doesn’t ticket you (blog forthcoming)?  Are you just an annoying asshole?  I, of course, assume the latter.  The only revenge that I can partake of, unfortunately, is parking so close to them that our bumpers are swapping dust.

But it’s all worthwhile when I do get to see them throwing their arms up in frustration when they’re blocked in on both sides.

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