Love for sale
I want Mitt Romney to become president; and I want him to privatize love. I don’t mean the way pimps and Hallmark stores privatize “love.” I am talking about, once and for all, allowing free enterprise to quantify the monetary value of my heart.
Clearly, the current supply of love in the world does not meet demand. (That’s even taking into consideration the potentially market-manipulating love hoarders like Benny Hinn, and Usher.) Therefore, I see an embarrassingly untapped opportunity for profit. And I believe it was the great Milton Freidman who said that neglecting an opportunity for profit was the same as mooning God. Or was that Milton Berle? I forget; maybe Milton Bradley.
Regardless, once we completely map and reverse-engineer the human brain — an epoch which could happen during a Romney two-term presidency — we will be able to thoroughly identify, analyze and track the specific electricity in the mind that is love. Thus, the curtain will be pulled back on this pesky, yet-to-be-monetized force that makes the world go ‘round.
Think of the power the U.S. will have by placing this new product on the market. World economic competition will be turned on its head.
Sorry, India and China. You mostly worship a false God, so your love isn’t genuine and your product is therefore obsolete. Plus, love is the one thing everyone wants even more than shoes and cell phones. So, I believe your emerging superpower dreams will have to be put on ice for a while.
Also, America, Europe, Brazil and other Christian nations will finally be able to stand up to OPEC when we form OLEC.
Sure, it will be strange at first to go to war with some other nation when one, inevitably, has vast reserves of love that it refuses to let the U.S. get in on. (Hinn and Usher will be easily waterboarded, and their love plundered.) However, as a collective American society, we’ll surely approach such weirdness with the same apathy and cynicism we offer to our wars today.
That brings me to the current commander in chief. He’s too busy sipping microbrews and signing defense bills that allow for any citizen to be thrown into prison for the rest of their lives without getting a trail to even think about manning-up and becoming the CEO in chief America needs.
Mitt, who celebrates that U.S. law recognizes corporations as people (unless that corporation is gay), knows that innovations within capitalism are what make a nation strong, make a people great and make a penis hard. I’m confident that he will do away with any foul regulations that stand in the way of the private sector nimbly adapting to create the love market. If we keep a Democrat in the Oval Office, there will no doubt be some social welfare safety net system that gives love stamps to lazy poor people with their hands held out, lowering love’s overall market value.
This world is only going to get faster and stranger. We need someone with the business experience and the smarts to stay lucid, and avoid getting emotional when it comes to the market-matters of the heart. Particularly, we need someone who knows that what matters is how much your heart is worth.
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Plus, then we could all be Mormon Mayans. Or Mayan Mormons. Or something like that.
http://downwithtyranny.blogspot.com/2012/01/mitt-romney-and-quetzalcoatl-will-south.html?utm_source=twitterfeed&utm_medium=twitter
Ryan
Whoever wrote this article is too brilliant to be an actual person. I demand that you declare what universe you are from.
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Okay, almost 24 hours later and I finally got Issac’s Summer joke. I’m an idiot.
Swap the dog for a fire pit and it sounds like you’re writing about my back yard. Very nice.
funny, as your summer begins, another Summer ends.
And that, my friend, is love. Bob, I think I still owe you for my wedding cake, served in 1998. But nevermind.
I believe the kiss between Rob and I was documented on low-quality videotape in the mid-ninties porn classic, Dirty Harry…and Sticky.
“Do I have to sign some forms, or am I just considered ‘in.’” You’re in!
Got damn, Coulter. You are the greatest.
I have no specific memory of it, but I wouldn’t be surprised if I’d kissed Mike, too—once we’d both drunk ourselves gay. And earlier this week I gave Clarence Shelley a back rub. Do I have to sign some forms, or am I just considered “in.”
FWIW, I got a copy of the letter in question. It was written in a way that would be plausible to a casual reader who didn’t scrutinize it too carefully. It announced the formation of an organization called G.L.A.B.A. (which actually exists), and had discussion about typical…
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Oh nice! I’d totally vote for Matt Campbell!
“Smile Politely sports writer announces candidacy for city government.”
I also got to visit Big Grove Tavern during the soft open and definitely enjoyed the pork belly the most of all the dishes I sampled. The cheesy grits and the vinegary pickled vegetables were a perfect compliment to the rich pork belly.
The Alan Partridge lookalike on the right in the first small photo has nothing to condescend to anyone about. AH HA!
Snell and the little Hitlers of the neighborhood association need to chill out. Legitimate businesses should have the freedom to exist without having to endure the slings and arrows of ignorant and misguided opposition.
represent, Matt.
Yeah, I’d agree that Transporter Room 3 is the worst house venue I’ve ever seen.
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I think it’s neat that SP has turned rightward, now espousing a Tea Party-style frustration with government regulations & taxes.
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*slow. clap.* Still offering no threat of intelligence…. I know I said I thought you should just write this whole column yourself next year, Isaac, but now that you’ve gone and taken a “part deux” run at it, I’d like to modify my request: Best Music 2013,…
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What? Echo! (Echo!) Where’s the dischord and dissent?
This weekend will mark the first appearance of Kayla Brown’s Fire Doll Candle booth at the Market. Check it: http://www.facebook.com/firedollcandles
And without bloodshed. Sounds like the Savoy trustees aren’t as narrow-minded as some of their whiny pants constituents. Do you think quack Snell is already planning an asinine counterattack or is he still laying low after those “threats” against his person?
hey, if hair ain’t gon’ be over your head, my jokes may as well be.
Okay, almost 24 hours later and I finally got Issac’s Summer joke. I’m an idiot.
Excellent. I am glad sometimes American dreams are encouraged, rather than stifled.
Swap the dog for a fire pit and it sounds like you’re writing about my back yard. Very nice.
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hey, if hair ain’t gon’ be over your head, my jokes may as well be.