Applying for jobs is starting to feel a lot like
I went to the worst of bars hoping to get killed. but all I could do was to get drunk again. worse, the bar patrons even ended up liking me. there I was trying to get pushed over the dark edge and I ended up with free drinks while somewhere else some poor son-of-a-bitch was in a hospital bed, tubes sticking out all over him as he fought like hell to live. nobody would help me die as the drinks kept coming, as the next day waited for me with its steel clamps, its stinking anonymity, its incogitant attitude. death doesn't always come running when you call it, not even if you call it from a shining castle or from an ocean liner or from the best bar on earth (or the worst). such impertinence only makes the gods hesitate and delay. ask me: I'm 72.
"A Sticky Situation" (1960) by Carl Barks
I like how advertising is literally still exactly as sexist as they’re joking about in this comic from 54 years ago.
The older I get the more I seem to understand this
when you say poolnoodle cucumberbench is unattractive and ppl go “are [picture of him] you [gif of him] confused [extreme hq pic]” and i’m like yeah no that dude’s ugly you just keep posting pictures of the ugly dude what am i supposed to do with this information