This post will not change a goddamned thing

Too bad nobody’s invented web-based Lysol yet, because email from corporate viral marketing enterprises increasingly befouls my inbox. That is some nasty stink, let me tell you. What I like best is that they always start out by saying that they immediately thought of me as the perfect audience for an exciting new Internet dating guide/slim volume of life’s little luxuries/book from Pamela Anderson.

Oh, yes, perfect! Send it right along. And while you’re at it, could you capture the sound of your father clipping his toenails, and include that in the package, too?

Unlike Ron Hogan of Galleycat, I’m disgusted rather than impressed by companies like Bzzagents, which could probably convince people to pimp sackfuls of dead flies to their friends. (Really?! They’re free?! And the packaging is so nice!)

As for the t-shirt Hogan mentions: a size medium, black-and-yellow variety that includes several random instructions like “Claim you’re Jesus” and has been sitting on a chair in my living room collecting cat hair? The book it’s attached to, a day-by-day series of inane assignments that swing between the nauseatingly twee and the outright dangerous, was a bad enough idea the first time around — the new one, a sequel, is called This Book Will Change Your Life Again! — when I said:

this book would hold my interest for about ten seconds before I stacked it in my closet atop the copy of The Artist’s Way that a friend insisted I borrow (“no really,” she said, drunk at her holiday party two years ago, “you have to read it. It cures everybody’s writer’s block!”) and the fourteen yoga videos friends gave me to help me learn to relax.

I guess I’ll stick the second volume and the t-shirt in the hall for Tori Amos. (Scroll to parenthetical.)


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