IRS agents are howling with orgasmic glee as they anxiously await your tax filing tomorrow and you’ve waited until the last minute in hopes that someone would give you the secret deets to save, save, save on what you owe. Are you crazy? Last year ended, well, last year, and you can’t do anything now to fix all the ways you screwed up in 2023. You know that by now, though, because you’ve been studying all the lame-stream media guides and every one of them mocks you for all the things you were supposed to do, but didn’t, when it could actually make a difference:
While you're waiting for all those updates, why not take a minute to click here to subscribe?
2 Comments
Not only do oldsters write in a secret code called cursive, we’re also coming up with hip new lingo and a cure for short-term memory loss. Making it less of a drag getting old this week…
While you're waiting to join the class-action list of plaintiffs, take a moment to click here to subscribe for more brilliant ideas for revenge. I’m doing a good job of keeping up on the news these days, but I’m not completely sure that any of it makes sense. For instance…
It turns out I owe Betty an apology. A few weeks ago, I railed about her and how she was treated so much better than I am and I admitted to my absolute jealousy over the special opportunities people were strewing at her feet. Since then, I’ve taken a look at my spam folder and it turns out I’m the lucky one, not her, and everybody, including Betty, should be jealous of me, me, me. As I was scrolling through my junk mail, it occurred to me that it’s much more compelling than the stuff I end up reading in my real messages. (Sorry, friends, but you’re really boring.) Even better, I can get much better deals than Betty and I don’t even need to take any classes at those schools that want her as a student. I am so special… Nothing indicates an investment that’s geared specifically for my parameters than: Good day. I found your email address in the Google database. Is your email address still valid? I have a good business proposal for you. Of course, there’s the traditional alert that I’m in for a big bequest: Hello, a donation of € 1,700,000.00 has been made for you. And then there are people who don’t know the difference between a benefactor and a beneficiary, although I suspect I would end up as more of the former than the latter if I clicked on the link: You have been selected as benefactor of $1,000,000.00 million dollars from our personal donation in the year 2023. A trillion dollars? That’s even more than Elon Musk lost on Twitter. I’ve got to temper my excitement, though, because I might not be the real beneficiary. Not only are they confusing me with Betty all the time, some of them now think I’m Ed, who is an even better credit risk than Betty or I will ever be: Hi Ed, If you'd like to get fast flexible funding for your business then a business cash advance could be the perfect solution. Get From $5,000 to $1 Million in as little as 24 hours. $1 Million? I could be in Tahiti before they find out I’m not Ed. Or Betty. Or that I don’t live in New York. That’s a good thing, really, since New Yorkers appear to be all wrinkly and saggy and vastly overweight, according to all of these messages:
Not only am I not Betty, or Ed, or a New Yawker, I’m not a Brit, either, but you wouldn’t know it from these greetings from friends:
I’ve also discovered that power tools are considered the most appealing gifts:
So, all this scrolling has me thinking. With all these special deals just for me, it isn’t possible that all of them are fake. There must be at least a few offers that are legit in here and I’m missing out by ignoring them. Maybe I should just click on a few an We’ll all be happier when AI eats our homework and we should all be nervous about liberals on the warpath, along with other thoughts you won’t be able to unsee this week… Maybe just this once. The driver who picked us up at the airport is very excited about his future. He’s lost 61 pounds so far on Ozempic, which is good for his diabetes and also good for walking on his new knee. He feels better and he looks better, as proven by the photo he showed us, and life is great. As soon as he gets the second knee replaced, he plans to get back to traveling and enjoying his rediscovered mobility. Next stop, he says, is Chicago, for deep dish pizza. Clearly, all that hard work and suffering deserves an award. An eighth deadly sin! I see that former Trump fixer Michael Cohen admitted to submitting an AI-generated court filing included a slew of fake citations, and I wasn’t surprised. Nobody checks their work anymore and nobody ever questions anything that comes out of a digital device. GIGO is the one immutable law of computing, but we’re about to see a zillion disasters as people sign off on AI documents they’ve never read and action plans they’ve never considered. Well beyond pride and envy and greed, sloth is the deadliest of sins. Well, it's not gonna kill me, maybe. Speaking of sloth, a friend and I were commiserating about how hard it is to get anyone to revisit their assumptions about anything. This is a big surprise to nobody, of course. We give things a glance, make up our minds and move on, devoting our energies to more important matters like telling online strangers how to live their lives. I’d make light of it, but it’s survival instinct at work. We decide something isn’t a threat, so we stop paying attention. Owning themselves. I was at a dinner the other night with a bunch of people who were complaining about immigration. Too many people are coming in, we have no systems in place to handle the surge, the immigrants have no interest in assimilating, they should turn around and go home, etc. Did I mention most of these people are liberals? Never means never. There are a couple of companies that keep sending me emails with all kinds of incredible offers and they refuse to stop. I’ve hit unsubscribe a million times and sometimes send them to the spam folder, but they keep sending new messages from a seemingly unending array of email addresses that I haven’t blocked yet. And I can’t help but wonder, what’s the point? It’s not like I’m suddenly going to forget the carpal tunnel I developed in my fruitless efforts to block them. What genius in the marketing department decided it was a good idea to recruit people to the Never, Ever, Ever, Ever list? Okay Genzer. It was once a mark of aging to start sentences with, “When I was your age,” but the newest batch of oldsters are people who begin a recollection with, “Back in the day…” Gen Z is rolling its eyes at you, Millennials, and I’m schadenfreuding like crazy. Would we notice? Speaking of Gen Z, I’m a little bit nervous now that they’re old enough to run for Congress. With their work ethic, it’ll be nothing but recesses and live-texting from hearings and absolutely zero work getting done. On second thought… She aged since then. Speaking of second thoughts, I really regret responding to those clickbait stories on Facebook last year. Now my feed is nothing but hilarious stories about texts gone wrong and invitations to ogle women who have been dead for 50 years. Even worse, I’m not getting any videos of cats playing the piano. Maybe I should get into that whole clickbait thing by promising nude photos of cats playing the piano instead of a Dad Writes subscription if you click here. Turns out AI is just like us, after all, and the guard rails are off for pretty much everything. It will look great in the future, though, because only the survivors will be left to tell the story…
We'll be living life without guard rails in 2024, so click here to subscribe and come along for the ride. |
Who writes this stuff?Dadwrites oozes from the warped mind of Michael Rosenbaum, an award-winning author who spends most of his time these days as a start-up business mentor, book coach, photographer and, mostly, a grandfather. All views are his alone, largely due to the fact that he can’t find anyone who agrees with him. Archives
January 2024
Categories
All
|