We, three, here sitting are breaking new ground. We, this post, together writing. What topic worthy the three minds together? Steel tariffs? How much of a shit hole this city is? The general lack of laughs the Simpsons are giving these days? Not sure, our minds and bodies are glutted and full of cheese and bacon, and eggs.
So bear with us. This is not a science and certainly ain't pretty.
Draper:
Don't you hate pants?
While we can certainly all agree that pants are beat, that they are not top drawer, you should wear them old sport. It is what there is to do. You can't not wear pants. Could you? Maybe that is the new ground to be broken. Let's all unite against them, pants. Or anything else. Who will come with us...join one of our causes? Anti-pants? Yes, it is good.
But, there are certainly bigger issues. Aren't there? We, three Jerks, think so.
Oingo Boingo? Merits, demerits? Anyone? Anyone?
Marc:
Issue #1: Steel Tariffs
This clusterfuck is all the "Diabolical Genius" Karl Rove's fault. He tried to suck up to a dying industry and ended up pissing off every company that uses steel - and the EU to boot. Tariffs are a intellectually bankrupt and economically suicidal policy, and it is an embarrassment that this president is willing to use them for political gain.
Issue #2: Mallism
Let's talk about a plague that has swept the service industry in this nation: the scourge known as Mallism. When I go into a goddamn bar and ask for a hot toddy, I don't expect a mug of hot water, a shot of bourbon, and a packet of Equal. This is what happens when your desires don't fit into the mall template - when there isn't a button on the screen with a picture of a hot toddy on it.
You can get a pineapple martini or a dreamsicle smoothie or any other pile of puke that's on the menu, but when you ask for a drink that your grandfather would have ordered, the whole Mallist bar grinds to a halt. Barf.
Okay, I've said enough. I'm going to turn the mike over to T-Bone. Peace out.
Tony:
Issue #3: Drinking
It's no secret that I enjoy an adult beverage now and again. In fact, it's no secret that I never pass up an opportunity to indulge in libations whenever I get a chance. But why? Because drinking, when done properly, is the perfect antitode to the Orndoff Principle. (For the uninitiated, Orndoff Principle: Everything now is worse than it used to be.)
Drinking is one of a shrinking number of safe-havens we have in a world where the Eagles wear black, Kenny Chesney sells more records than the Derailers and Marc can't even get a goddamn hot toddy at a bar. Alcoholic beverages are also the last to be bottled in glass, with old-fashioned corks, and caps that don't screw off. And this, in fact, is why things like beer in plastic, Smirnoff Ice and anything besides gin and vermouth being called a Martini makes me go Draper with rage and disgust. When you drink you can still live in the world your grandfather inhabited. Where men wore hats, women liked being dames and you could have a couple at lunch, tell Betty to hold your calls, and kick back with a cigar in your office. Why do I drink? The loneliness? Yes. The inflated sense of self-esteem? Well, that too. But the real reason, the best reason is because drinking is top drawer, old sport.
Long winded wank. That Tony. Marc, too. They both have a lot to say about a lot. Of nothing, mostly. But, this ain't called We three wise Men. Jerks, with opinions, not right, or wrong. Well, we'd say they were right, but not always. They are filthy fucking liars and angry, angry men. Anyway. Enjoy, disagree...hopefully. Agree...scary.
Draper
