As the NFL season approaches, it’s time to realize that bringing beer to a party is stupid, outdated, and needs to be eliminated as a social prerequisite.
Why Bringing Beer To A Party Is Stupid & Outdated | Articles – SA Magazine
Perhaps in the old days, when there was a much larger separation of classes, inviting someone or being invited to someone else’s party was probably a very substantial thing. For example, if you were some printing press plutocrat or something, magnanimously inviting a few poor serf drones over to your stately, palatial manor for social festivities, there’s little doubt that this was probably a very big deal, and it would stand to reason that the peons showing up as guests at your disgustingly ubiquitous, blueblood mansion, would be expected to stomp a few grapes a few months in advance, and make certain they didn’t come knocking on your door, without a bottle of the puce intoxicant in hand. However, since the time of… we’ll say “color television”, if you really analyze this fluky, communal prerequisite, it really makes no sense at all.
Think about it- in this day and age of casual get-togethers, how does this benefit you, the guest? People, including you, have a bevy of different ways to utilize their earmarked entertainment-time these days. Movies, theaters, book-clubs, sporting events. So chances are, by just the mere fact of you being gracious enough to make an appearance at so-and-so’s pitiful yawn-fest, you’re already the white-hat, galloping in on your pale horse and saving them from virtual social-suicide. Even if one could argue that this was indeed some sort of an “even trade” (a couple of Jeno’s pizza rolls in your piehole equals the exchange rate of five Pabst Blue Ribbons) I still contend that being expected to bring spirits is ridiculous, on the mere notion that in nine out of ten instances, you’re still the one doing more labor than the other.
The truth is, you can crack open a Genesee Cream Ale and a bag of cheese puffs anywhere. Your couch, the roof, a park bench, or the backseat of your car. So unlike the aforementioned drudges being decorously summoned to some aristocrat’s highborn hall, these so called “hosts” asking if you want to come over and watch the Jets game, are not providing you with any kind of grand venue, which you yourself do not already have within reach. Again, you’re being asked to perform more travail, for the same pleasures you can already imbibe in at your own leisure.
Break it down. By design, you are visiting these so called hosts on your own time off. So that’s the first thing you’re giving up- time. Secondly, you are now tasked with the duty of bathing and cleaning yourself up. Furthermore, while you may choose to don some sort of inappreciable attire such as a football jersey and jorts, there is an equally good chance you may choose to sport some sort of outfit that requires ironing. Either way, you’re spending at least a good half hour showering up and combing, on a day where you would most likely entertain the idea of skipping the Zest and Pantene. There’s also the matter of your significant other. Is he or she coming along? Maybe you owe them some of your off-time, and now you’re either sacrificing those precious moments in exchange for guffawing with your dimwitted cohorts, or being put in a situation where making up some lie about where you’ll be spending the next three hours is the only course available to you. Though these motes of relevance may indeed sound minute, the point is, the person who is doing the hosting, is encumbered with none of these burdens.
Next, you’ll have to get in your car- perhaps even have to gas it up. The host’s car will be sitting quietly in their garage or driveway. You, will have to fight traffic, and actually run a bona fide errand to a busy grocery store, and while you laboriously make yourself over to the beer coolers at the other end of the supermarket, and ensue to wait impatiently at the back end of a ridiculously long “six items or less” lane just to shell out seven bucks of your own hard earned money, in the meantime, the previously cited host, will be staring at his or her watch and channel flipping, from the comfort of his or her own temperature regulated dwelling. Finally, you will now have to lug this cumbersome six pack back to your vehicle, dig for your car keys, get in said-vehicle, start said-vehicle up, put said-vehicle in gear, and spend even more of your precious free time managing the hassles of even more truckage & traffic, in an effort to drive this weighty, alcoholic “gift”, over to your “philanthropic benefactor’s” flat.
What, prey tell, do you get in return for this unwieldy undertaking? The “luxury” of being able to watch them, watch the football game in sweat pants- and probably from the crappier chair. –Johnny Video
Clowns. Clowns can be creepy.
Baby Dolls. The ones with those “lifelike” eyes? Equally as creepy.
Beauty pageants for girls under six. All that makeup? Seriously f’ing creepy.
Thanks to television in the second millennium, we can add one more thing to the category- Enterprise Rent-A-Car commercials.
It’s worth mentioning, that the notion of a car driving down the road completely wrapped in a brown paper bag, is in and of itself, just simply… strange. This alone more than likely has Stephen King himself, a bit green with envy. But worse yet, what is with the casting of these commercials? Take a close look next time… every single person that has ever been in any of the slew of countless Enterprise Rent-A-Car commercials, has a smile, that is a symmetrically perfect “V”. Three congruent lines: A perfectly horizontal upper lip combined with two sides of a bottom lip coming to an angled point, all forming a perfect triangle with teeth-so-white, they could reflect even those rays of the sun which are outside the visual spectrum.
This is creepy. They… are creepy. It makes one wonder if there is some clandestine, underground family of alien Uber-Humans in our world, and if being a part of this secret-society of experimentally cloned & grinning humans, is indeed a prerequisite for the casting of these sick, chill inducing, fifteen second television spots. Where is Roddy Piper and his special sunglasses when you need him? They Live. They definitely live Roddy, and it’s time to “chew bubblegum, and kick some ass”.
Furthermore, I’m sorry, what exactly is there to smile about if your scarf blows away, like the one gal has happen in the one commercial? You go to Macy’s, search through seemingly endless racks of headwear to find just the right color of scarf to wear over your head, because you’re about to take a joyride in the back of a rented convertible, and within seconds the wind whips it away… and this is funny? This is cute? This is an Audrey Hepburn/Marilyn Monroe moment? Would Enterprise truly have us believe that simply because you’re not driving your own car, and that they picked you up, that suddenly your life is so carefree, that you don’t give a shit about a seventy-nine dollar Donna Karan scarf flying off your head onto the dusty oblivion of Highway 19?“
“We’ll pick you up!” Yeah, I bet you do. Check the metals on that Buick Regal next time. Ten bucks says it’s extra-terrestrial. At least when the aliens use a spaceship to abduct you (prior to surgically repairing your smile), they probably at least tell you that you’re going to be brainwashed…
Alien (through telepathy): *”YOU WILL NOT CARE IF YOUR SCARF BLOWS AWAY!”*
Abductee (verbally): “I will not care if my scarf blows away…”