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Mr. Wrong

Let’s Not Get Real

Emily Flake

By Joe MacLeod | Posted 8/10/2005

Hey, cable teevee company? Don’t call me up and tell me you want me to switch my cable box for “upgrades” or whatever and then tell me I gotta go someplace to some fucking industrial park or whatever to pick it up, and then put my ass on hold for 10 minutes or more, umkay?

I say 10 minutes or more because that’s when I hung up on you fools. After you called me. And then put me on hold. For long enough to make me realize what a dope I am for wasting my life on hold from a call that the cable teevee company made to me. Really, nice fucking customer service you got goin’ there, cable teevee company whose initials are “Comcast.” Seriously, let’s break it down:

1) You call me. I mean, I’m just sitting around, minding my own business, watching some Gastineau Girls or maybe some nice religious programming or some of that crazy-ass Free Speech TV where they’re fomenting Revolution and stuff—that’s some Good Television, man, but whatever.

2) After you call me (see item No. 1), you tell me I need a new cable teevee box for some sort of bullshit “upgrades,” when I know perfectly well you’re putting in some sorta Homeland Security stuff inside that “upgraded” box so you can look at me while I’m scratching myself watching teevee, like maybe for instance the narcotically compelling Big Brother 6, which is all about watching people sitting around their house scratching themselves between bouts of trying to mind-fuck their roommates so’s they can win the “Big Brother” game, which basically is like some sort of weirdo popularity-contest deal, where you have all these annoying roommates and they all pretend to not want to win the prize until right at the last minute, so let’s be friends and vote off all those other freaks.

3) What?

4) Sorry.

5) Anyway, you tell me I gotta come to you and get it, to some, like, “Matrix Place,” or “Metro” somethingorother plaza-plex-avenue-way-drive that you know just has bleak, smelly industrial park written all over it, and I gotta go there to get this fucking mind-control device or whatever and hook it up myself in my own house so you can spy on me, and I’m so physically addicted to the creamy goodness of Cable Television that I’m ready to jump in my car and leave immediately to get my new death-ray mind-eraser robot wireless lobotomy safety box and take it home and install it myself. What a fucking sap, eh? I woulda even probably brought you a sandwich or something, but . . .

6) You put me on hold on my phone for 10 minutes or more, even though I was already putting on my cleanest soiled undershirt to be presentable enough to visit the cable teevee HQ to get my instructions on how to Obey and serve my cable dealer.

I think all that time away from the teevee cleared my mind just for a minute to where I was like, the fuck? They got me unhooking my box and bringing it to them, man—they should be the ones bringing me my “upgraded” brainwashing-emitter, and they should also install it and bring me a fucking pizza and a refreshing beverage so I can get back to watching the Arrested Development “marathon,” or the Battlestar Galactica marathon, or anything they got on the teevee that’s in marathon mode. Man, I love me some marathon television.

Which reminds me, marathonwise, please for the love of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints shut the fuck up about all the real estate, OK? Everybody’s blabbering nonstop about the real estate. I gotta fucking headache from this shit. It’s like, buy low and sell high, right? Lesson learned, conversation over. No, really, nobody cares anymore, even you, I swear to the God of Abraham, you are even boring yourself with this blah blah blahblahblah all about how you coulda bought a house or you shoulda bought a house, or even, like, you bought a house, and it was either way cheap or way expensive and now you think could sell it, you think you wanna sell it, because you hardly paid anything, and so you need to fucking sell it, so you can make some money and buy another fucking house someplace. Wha? Eh? Shut up about the house and the neighborhood and where’s the new neighborhood and I wanna buy a house and sell it so I can buy a new house, OK? Let’s talk about constructive shit like what you think is in that new “upgraded” cable teevee box and this fun cable teevee show I just started watching about how you buy a semicrappy house and then fix it up using really cheapo shortcuts to be able to suck the most profit out of the sale when you flip it quick before you even gotta make a mortgage payment. Oh.

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