I don’t care about the damned AIG bonuses. It’s less than one tenth of a percent of the money we gave them. Yep, it’s an outrage. Yep, I’d LOVE to find a job that would reward me for running a company into the ground with millions in bonuses. Yep, I’d like to string the folks who got those bonuses up by their high-priced undies, cover ’em in honey, and then drop ’em on an anthill. But I don’t want to hear anymore about it.
Wake me when someone has an idea for making that company profitable again. Since I, Mr. Taxpayer, now own 80 percent of it, I’ll be looking forward to the day it’s stocks are once again worth $60 a share.
I don’t care if Octomommy went to Walgreen’s. I don’t care if she went shopping for a layette or 14. I don’t care if Angelina is her idol, if she paid for those ridiculous lips with a foodstamp, and I can just about guess what her neighbor’s think of the latest family on their block, so I don’t need Inside Edition to bring me a special on their reactions.
Wake me when whatever doctor it is who decided to implant 8 embryos into a welfare mom with 6 kids has his license yanked. Or nudge me if she comes out with a new stretch-mark cream cause you know her stomach looks like a map of the Mississippi watershed.
I no longer care for guesses and speculation. It is not newsworthy to report when someone THINKS the recession might end. It’s not worth a headline to tell us what someone guesses MIGHT happen, MAY occur, or COULD be the case. If I want to hear a bunch of crap I’ll call up Lady Cleo.
Wake me when someone actually knows something.
I know it’s refreshing to have a young family in the White House. But I no longer care if the Obamas get a swingset. I’ve heard all I need to about the puppy that will one day poop on the rug of the Lincoln Bedroom. I don’t care if the First Lady wears a pantsuit or a Pull Up. We get it! They’re just like us, only richer, more powerful, and not worried about losing their jobs for at least three more years.
Wake me when everything he is doing actually starts working. If it doesn’t work, just let me sleep.
I don’t need a breaking stock market report anymore. We all know it’s up and down more than a Whack-a-Mole game lately.
Just wake me when I can open my investment statements without a box of tissues and a nerve pill handy.
Stop giving these talentless starlets attention! I don’t give a damn if Lindsay Lohan is into the hole or the pole today. I won’t lose any sleep if I’m not up to date on her arrest record. We already know Paris Hilton is a class-free dumpster slut. It’s no longer “news” that she’s sleeping with someone, that she bought a tacky new car, and I sure don’t care what her opinions are on current events.
Wake me when one of these “ladies” displays talent that deserves our attention.