Making a house a home

I know you have all been lying awake at night worrying about this, watching the minutes tick by while precious sleep cruelly eludes you. But alas, you can now rest easy knowing that giant house-building companies will be getting tax cuts resulting in multi-million dollar refunds, necessary in order to save these struggling businesses from mountains of debt and impending corporate death... wait, what? They're not struggling? Many of the largest home builders are actually sitting pretty atop the piles of cash they made while helping to create the very bubble that caused this recession to begin with? But the Worker, Homeownership and Business Assistance Act of 2009 is still going to result in them getting refunds of hundreds of millions of dollars?

Well, as long as we don't give them healthcare...

Home Builders (You Heard That Right) Get a Gift

Back in Business!

America, I apologize for our lack of bloggery, which lord knows is sorely needed in these tough economic times. We are not ignorant to the fact that this blog brought a brief moment of respite and levity to millions of you laid-off and about-to-be-laid-off blog-readers. None of you killed yourselves, did you? I hope not.

You know what the problem is? Someone at the New York Times must have realized we were making fun of their stupid articles about rich people becoming slightly less rich, because they stopped writing so many. We're lazy, you guys. We can't just come up with blog ideas on our OWN. So we kind of shut ourselves away for a while and watched our official crying movie (A League of Their Own) until we were ready to come back out into the public sphere again.

And here we are! How about that recession, huh? I actually noticed in some Times article the other day, the author just came right out and said "Great Recession". Like he decided "fuck it, we've been pussyfooting around long enough and if no one else is going to make the call on it, then goddammit, I AM. I am a NEW YORK TIMES REPORTER. And I'm going to call it the GREAT RECESSION." Bravo, sir.

In other news, things are not looking good for Obama's health care initiative. I can't really even talk about this, as it makes me too mad. Who doesn't want universal health care? Rich assholes who can afford good health insurance, that's who. They don't get to decide! Go buy your stupid Blue Cross Blue Shield, rich people! Leave me my socialized medicine!

Being That You Brought Her, I Trust You Shall Be So Kind As To Pelham Manor

Oh my goodness. Did you know that some unemployed high-powered executive-type males have had to (GASP) STAY HOME AND CARE FOR THE CHILDREN??? The New York Times confirms it is true. At least in Pelham Manor, New York. Pelham Manor? Really? Your whole rich people suburb is one manor? How does that work? Was "Fancypants Acres" taken? Hold on while I add this to the list of things I hate and fear. Okay.

Titans of industry are losing their jobs left and right in ye olde Pelham Manor, so some of these unfortunate fellows have had to stay home with the kids while their wives work. What is this world coming to, when men who were once paid way too much to buy and sell things that are not real must stay home and raise little humans while their helpless, delicate wives go out and earn the money? The men have to cook dinner and pick kids up from school, while the women are presumably being preyed upon by wolves and mustache-twirling villains in the forest outside the village. The whole natural order of things is upset! Pelham Manor, I feel like I don't even know you any more!

Things are looking especially rough for unemployed dad Jerry Levy. He's had trouble fitting in at PTA meetings because he "tends to tackle matters with a bluntness honed in the financial industry" (translation: "is an asshole").* But Jerry has a lot of money saved up, and has taken over many of his wife's chores. Oh yeah, his wife? Doesn't have to work either. And they have a nanny. So, you know, pretty typical American family. Except for the shame--THE SHAME!--of being a stay-at-home dad.

...Mr. Levy said, one uncomfortable aspect of his new life is a certain loss of power. “At work, you are used to everyone listening to you — assistants, accounting, the middle office, sales coverage and outside vendors,” he said. “But try to get your four children to listen to you.”

OH AH HA HA HA HA HA CHILDY ANECDOTES! SOMEONE FETCH ME RAYMOND WHOM EVERYBODY LOVES FORTHWITH, FOR HE WOULD TRULY DELIGHT IN THIS JAPERY. Do you like how he had to list everyone he used to order around? What in hell is a middle office? Do I really need to translate again, when it's clear "everyone listening to you" means "everyone hating me, Jerry Levy"?

Here's the thing. Unless everyone in Pelham Manor is like Lady Levy (and hell, for all I know, they are, but I am trying to operate from a place of optimism), I highly doubt these stay-at-home dads' wives were full-time moms who suddenly went back to work when their husbands got laid off. I bet most of them were already working full-time, or close to it. Those Dutch Colonial homes with negro jockey statues in front aren't going to pay for themselves. I double-or-nothing bet these women were doing the bulk of the child-raising while working, while their financey husbands were crowing about how busy they were doing business and weren't lifting a goddamned finger around the house. Where's their tickertape parade?

More men than women have suffered layoffs in these tough economic times, and it sucks when anyone gets laid off, but that's really just a minor bummer compared to the fact that women are still paid less than men, as has been the case since, oh, the Industrial Revolution and the invention of wage labor. Is it better to get laid off and get unemployment, or continue being marginally employed at a job only because your boss can get away with paying you less than the dude in the next cubicle? The consistent undervaluing of women's labor, paid and unpaid, is the real story here.

Luckily for you, I'm too lazy to get into that story and would much rather just keep making up alternative names for Pelham Manor. Entitlementon. Blancho Villa. Simpleton Keep. George Foreman Jr. Knickerbocker Estates. Schloss Neidstein.



*Also: honing does not result in bluntness. It sort of results in the opposite, sharpness. Nice writing, New York Times.

Wall Street: Where the Stars Come Out to Shine!

The stars of banking, that is. What? You don't know about those stars? Clearly someone is not reading enough New York Times! Crisis Reshaping Wall Street as Stars Begin to Scatter

This article bemoans the loss of "top talent" as bankers from Goldman Sachs, Morgan Stanley, and others flee their sinking ships for the greener pastures of startups and smaller banks, which are hilariously described as "boutique" by the NYT, making me picture them as tony little joints in Paris where the ladies wear big hats and elbow gloves and the men wear smoking jackets and puff on cigars as they look over their monacles to conduct their business transactions.

Threatened by the odious dual threats of less payoff and more fiscal responsibility, some of the very people responsible for driving the economy off a cliff are now abandoning their posts (so much for those "retention" bonuses, huh?)to take ones at these boutique firms that are still intent on chasing fast profits and growth. Because learning your lesson? Ugh! [to steal a turn of phrase from Lady Blogpants]

The cliche of rats fleeing a sinking ship is actually not an appropriate analogy - the rats weren't the ones doing the ship-sinking, after all.

My favorite quote is from Lee Fenterstock, the chief executive of Broadpoint, a smaller Manhattan financial firm snapping up these so-called banking stars like a flock of pigeons after a dropped Lucky Dog. "We have the opportunity to step into the shoes of a Bear Stearns or a Lehman," he said. Umm... didn't both those firms just fail in a fantastical and dramatic manner? I think I'd leave those shoes right where they are.

The Con-Airy in the Coal Mine

I knew things were bad economically, but I didn't realize just how bad until I found out one of my favorite celebrities is so hard up he had to sell one of his castles. One of his CASTLES, people. That's right, Nicolas Cage is no longer the owner of Schloss Neidstein. He had to sell this Bavarian castle, in which he presumably was fond of donning his Con Air wig and twirling around yelling NICOLAS CAAAAAAAAGE in the echoey great hall before sitting down to a delicious pretzel-based meal, because of these tough economic times.

Like the canary in the coal mine, Nicolas Cage is an early harbinger of the doom-times to come for all celebrities. Your superfluous residential properties are not safe, o denizens of dreamland! Not yours, Jodie Sweetin from Full House. Or yours, Ruben Studdard from American Idol. Or even yours, Nicolas Cage, former king of Schloss Neidstein. Your Majesty.

You probably think now I'm going to rant about how ridiculous it is that in this economic day and age, Nicolas Cage owned castles (he still owns at least one, in England). But you're wrong. I can't find fault with Nicolas Cage. He's Nicolas Cage. Yelly, sweaty, weird Nicolas Cage. He named his baby after Superman. He was in The Rock. Did you click on that link up above, for god's sake? He's NICOLAS CAAAAAAGE! Of course he has castles!

Paycheck, Schmaycheck--I Used to Work in FINANCE!

Today's entry in the economic dick parade is a fellow who was laid off from a private equity firm in December. I don't know what a private equity firm is, because, as I've amply demonstrated, I don't know jackity crap about money stuff. Is it where you go to purchase pork-bellies? And perhaps to engage in the selling of same? Anyway, this guy Trent Calabretta apparently made far more money as a private equitist than any 26-year-old should make, because he has enough savings to keep his Upper East Side apartment and not have to look for a job right away. He's been whiling away the hours as a TV extra, for which he gets paid $8 an hour.

Doesn't sound so bad, right? Making money in show biz, checking out Angelina Jolie, presumably resting and regrouping for an assault on the job fairs of the greater northeast. I was okay with this story until Trent had to go and douche it up:

"I’ve gotten a few paychecks as an extra, but I haven’t even looked at them yet,” Mr. Calabretta said. “My intention is to get back into finance, and in the interim, I’m going to keep doing these fun little side jobs.”

Okay, I can't believe I'm standing up for people who play pretend for a living, but fuck this guy for taking jobs away from actual extras. Yes, if being an extra is your primary source of income you might have some large problems, and yes, maybe it's time to go back to school like your mom said. And yes, it is entirely possible you are an insufferable person. But still, I bet you appreciate and use the money you earn being an extra. Not Trent! He's too good for his paychecks! They're not made of real money--he's just doing a "fun little side job"!

Can you imagine receiving a paycheck, no matter how small, and not cashing it? What kind of private equity hubris makes you that big of an arrogant asshole? "What's this envelope? Oh, it's from Gossip Girl--it must be a paycheck from my last 12-hour extra gig. I think instead of opening this, I'll toss it onto the silver ashtray in my foyer and use it to light a cigar later. Or maybe I'll just jam it up my ass. That is how little regard I have for the legal tender contained therein."

You know what minimum wage is in New York? $7.15. I wonder how many thousands of people are trying to make ends meet with their "fun little side jobs" as fast food workers and janitors. Aren't they cute? Who's a little cutie? Who's a precious little janitor making less than a nonunion TV extra? YOU ARE!

And I know it's actually really hard to get into the actors' union, but jeez, at least pretend like you're trying, dude. No one likes a scab.

File under "Nerds Not Taking Themselves Seriously Enough. Again."

I recently received an important zeitgeisty tip from my neurosurgeon friend/ex-boyfriend (that's right, I used to date smart people, and don't think I don't mention my multiple neurosurgeon friends at every possible opportunity), alerting me that his wife's brother is not taking These Tough Economic Times as seriously as he should. In a classic "ha ha this is a funny joke oh wait it's becoming real hold on what are all these reporters doing here?" moment, laid-off computer programmer Nick Goddard inadvertently invented the Unemployment Olympics . After some hasty assembly of impressive cardboard box structures and the execution of this completely satisfying piece of art, a group of certified unemployed roustabouts competed in various office-themed events and otherwise poked fun and sported silly grins. At least one guy wore a suit and carried a briefcase, and I dub him King of Awesometown.

Don't these people realize the gravity of These Tough Economic Times? Look at them, using jocularity, looking on the bright side, not feeling sorry for themselves. Ridiculous. When will they realize their time would be better spent testifying to rapt journalists about how they used to have jobs and now they have not? Even better: standing all frowny on a corner with a sandwich board and a cup of pencils (not for sale, just for effect).

Readers, I am at a loss. If a 26-year-old code jockey from the East Village can't accept the mind-blowingly hopelessly irrevocably doomed nature of his situation, who can? Oh, everyone else the New York Times writes about? Oh, okay.

Optimism!

The economic news around here has been glum and getting glummer. BMW owners having to remain BMW owners instead of becoming Infiniti owners, incompetent bankers getting perhaps a slightly smaller bonus than they expected, intentionally unemployed housewives having to mop their own floors (but not mow their own lawns--we're not savages yet): is there any hope left in the world at all? In times like these, does ANYTHING make sense?

It does! It's time to take a walk on the sunny side of the street! I actually am going to note some positive stories; I don't know why this is starting off so sarcastically. Okay. Iiiii read that book sales are up in Europe, because people are reading more. They may be reading more because they're unemployed or because they can't afford TV anymore, but it doesn't really matter, they're reading! There is nothing not positive about people reading more. Unless those fruity Europeans are just doing it to make us look bad. Or maybe they just found out about the Twilight series. I hear the continentals are nutters for sparkly Mormon vampires.

Another good thing is that apparently volunteerism is way up. Instead of just going hoboing, or swanning about complaining to the New York Times, a lot of unemployed folks are showing up at food banks and Habitat for Humanity and whatnot to work. Of course, most of the non-profits don't have the infrastructure to actually make use of the surge of volunteers, but it's the thought that counts, right?

And the third good thing is that for the first time in my lifetime, poor people are really mad at rich people. Okay, I guess that's not new--what's new is now there's a little bit of media coverage on it. It gives me hope that some of the dummies who vote Republican are waking up and realizing their party has been shitting on them for years. Maybe making a living wage IS more important than worrying about whether Joe Gay Dude down the street is going to marry his boyfriend. Oh, now I'm just talking crazy.

But does she mop her own floors?

Oh, New York Times, have you ever met a rich person you didn't feel sorry for?

Today's sob story is Ms. Ryan Moore. Her claim to recessionista fame is that, due to these tough economic times, she was forced to keep her old car instead of buying a new Infiniti EX35. Goodness gracious! How ever will she be able to show her face in her old car, a 2004 BMW that has 25,000 whole miles on it? Does the odometer even GO that high?

Silly me. I wish I'd known about this money-saving tip a few years back when I was in dire financial straits and on the very successful "I can't afford food" diet. I sure could have saved myself the trouble of trying, much less successfully, to sell plasma, an experience that ended with a lot of throwing up, the blood bank people telling me not to come back, and me running over the bush in front of my parking space when I tried to drive myself home (note to self: if too woozy to stand up, probably best not to drive).

Let them eat cake

Today’s most infuriating headline: Home Economics: Families Doing Own Chores

What? You can do your own chores?? Fuuuuuck.

Thanks, Yahoo Finance, for this incredibly helpful article detailing how a lady in Fayetteville, Arkansas is saving 10k a year by doing her own cleaning and cooking at home. I’m going to apply this immediately to my own life to save… hey, wait, I couldn’t afford any of that to begin with! I’ve been doing my own menial labor for years. Where’s my retention bonus?

I wish that lady would call me so I could enumerate the reasons why she does not, in fact, deserve a ticker tape parade on Main Street for mopping her own floors. Guess what, lady? Nobody feels sorry for you because you can’t afford as many luxuries as you used to. Here’s an ingenious idea: why don’t you GET A JOB… or perhaps a clue. My mom worked full-time AND took care of the house the entire time I was growing up, and not only did it not kill her, but no one ever even offered her a Nobel prize. I hear she wasn't even nominated. We call that “life.” On the plus side, at least that afforded her some protection from Bernie Madoff... Not a celebrity OR a major national bank OR a Nobel laureate? You can keep your unimportant life savings, peon.

The article missed a great opportunity to talk about a real problem, which is that when Mrs. I Can’t Be Bothered With My Own Laundry and all her equally overindulged friends fire their maids and lawn boys, that puts people out of work and creates ACTUAL hardship. I am constantly amazed that the media think the real story about the recession is how it's affecting Suzy (non-home-making) Home-maker and her overdeveloped sense of entitlement, when there are people who truly are having a hard time of it and probably fishing for half-eaten sandwiches in dumpsters and selling their plasma at the local blood center for $20 a shot.

In the article, Fancy Lady notes, as an aside, that her maid calls her all the time and hasn’t been able to find other work. “I feel really bad about that,” she says, as she stands in her spacious kitchen full of stainless steel and state-of-the-art appliances. Sure you do, lady.

This Is Why You're Poor: Peek-A-Baby

While visiting my family in Northern California this weekend I spotted one of those billboard / sandwich board guys holding a sign and dancing on a corner. What kind of business was he advertising? Was it a car dealership? Nope! A sandwich place? Nope (that was on the opposite corner). A furniture sale? Nope. It was for a fucking ultrasound place called PEEK-A-BABY:

Yuck. I mean I'm all for local businesses trying to make money but this is gross. Do you really need to keep looking at the baby inside the woman's stomach? I do realize how oddly phrased that last sentence was but I've decided to keep it. "Hey I can't remember if my fetus has a penis or not, better go to Peek-A-Baby for a reminder! Yup it's me again! I'd like to pay money to look at my gross half-formed baby! Is there any way we could take it out and play with it too? Oh. OK, hook her up and let's look at this fucking thing. Hey how come every time I come here it has extra limbs? Wait this is safe right?"

I guess this could also have been titled "This Is Why Your Children Are Autistic" (although my sister has a theory that the cause of that is microwave popcorn).

"Humbled" Banker is a Dick

Today's headline story on CNN was called "Humbled Banker Parts With Yuppie Past". I thought I was about to read a heartwarming story about a rich banker who lost his job and after being forced to leave his lifestyle behind got some kind of "I learned the true meaning of Christmas!" realization and changed who he was as a person and decided material things and money aren't important. Nope. The story is about some dipshit guy Ernie Casillas, who was making a ton of money a year then lost his job and then in a "desperate move" put an ad on CRAIGSLIST asking for someone to give him a job. And now he's getting job offers. Great story CNN. Just listen to this dick:

"It took a lot for me to put that ad on Craigslist, because I had to change what I was before," he said, breaking down in tears. "I wasn't this rich little yuppie anymore, driving expensive cars, having expensive suits. I'm in this just like everybody else looking for work. It humbles you. This is real."

Wait you're crying? CRYING? Sorry I can't think of better words for this but: You are a fucking pussy. CNN goes on to point out this heartbreaking fact about him:

"he has been out of work for the past four months and now lives with his mother in suburban Los Angeles."

Awwww. Mommy's little banker lost his job and had to run home to curl up in her lap and cry. FUCK. YOU. Guess what? I'm probably going to be laid off soon. You know what I'm going to do when that happens? Go out and get drunk, then the next day I'm going to wake up, file for unemployment, and start working whatever temp jobs I can find so I can pay my rent. No crying. No moving in with my mom, just acting like a goddamn MAN about it. Oh and this is the ad he swallowed his pride to post on Craigslist:

"I have over 20 years of experience in sales, telephone sales in a call center, customer service, administrative assistant, cash handling, teller, and many more skills and abilities. Great personality, very friendly, hard worker, very responsible," it said. "I will be happy to e-mail you my resume. I need a job now. Please call my cell phone."

That's it? Oh boo hoo you had to use CRAIGSLIST, the thing us normal people use all the time to look for work, apartments, and cheap appliances (I just got a giant portable dishwasher on there for $50! Best money I've spent all year!). Here's more from the article to make you pull your hair out:

Casillas said he teared up when he first began typing the message -- that his life had come unraveled so hard and so fast. But ultimately, he said, he decided, "I'm just going to put it out there. I'm not going to be embarrassed. I'm just going to tell the whole world: I'm unemployed, and I need a job today. And the response was great. My phone kept ringing and ringing and ringing with people interested in my ability to think outside the box," he said, adding that he now has three good leads on potential jobs.

So you cry when you have to put an ad on Craigslist, then you cry to the reporter when you had to recall this embarrassing moment in your life? Sorry taking that job as a yuppie banker meant losing your balls. Also, putting an ad on Craigslist isn't thinking outside the box. You are a box. And since you started getting job offers right away this really isn't much of a story. Actually, screw it, when I get laid off this is the post I'm putting on Craigslist:

"Hi! I just got laid off! I'm not one of these rich people who got paid tons of money to do a job where they dicked around all day then got laid off and now act like they're swallowing their pride by looking for a lesser job and when they get one they're going to whine about it and talk about what they USED TO DO. I'm used to working 40 hours a week for minimal pay and even though I'll probably hate whatever job you give me I'll work my ass off at it because I'm cursed with genes which make me work too hard at crappy jobs and feel bad if I leave at the end of the day without finishing what needs to be done. P.S.: no fatties."

It is a far, far better thing I do than I have ever--HEY WHERE'S MY BLOWJOB BASKET?

Well, there isn't much I can add to the shitstorm surrounding AIG's payment of giant bailout-money bonuses to the idiot cartoon villains who got AIG into its current predicament. Evil buffoonery begets evil buffoonery. Spoiler alert.

A month or so ago, some muckity-muck at Wells Fargo took out a full-page ad in the New York Times whining about how mean we all were for getting mad when Wells Fargo continued taking its employees on junkets and retreats and whatnot after accepting bailout money. He implied--nope, straight-up stated--that by criticizing this wastefulness we were hurting the poor hardworking bank tellers and other low-level employees who just want to do a good job every day and deserve some special rewards. As if the bank tellers and security guards have anything to do with the catastrophic money-suck that is this guy's multibillion dollar shit-dick company. For shame, American taxpayers!

You know what kind of special reward I get for doing my job? A FUCKING PAYCHECK. I come in and go to work, and in return I get paid twice a month. It's a pretty sweet deal, guys. I do occasionally get a wee bonus; after taxes it's about enough to cover one electric bill and three songs from iTunes. This year we counted ourselves lucky that the company sprang for one lunch. And you know what? Despite our oft-dashed hopes for a muffin basket, we all still keep working. Waaaaaaaah where's my medal?

These CEOs argue that if they can't offer retreats and bonuses and junkets and blowjobs, they won't attract "the best and the brightest." Sirs, I submit to you that your various perks have attracted the opposite of that. Wait, is "the greediest and the rapiest" the opposite of "the best and the brightest"? I'm not so good with words. It sounds right.

Man, between the AIG stuff and Madoff's jailing, this class war is shaping up to be some good television. I keep expecting to see Madame Defarge in the background of one of the press conferences.

Rethinking my Spending Habits

The old cheap treats I used to feed my dogs are made of unspecified animal byproducts held together by synthetic chemical preservatives. My dogs, M and Q, loved them. However, because I am filled with the overwhelming desire to fix that which is not broken, I decided they need to eat healthier. Enter Mr. Fancypants' Super Expensive All-Natural Organic Treats Made from Happy Cows Who Got to Watch Cable TV and Have Massages Every Other Day Before Being Painlessly Hugged to Death by Angels.

The dogs hate them. They spit them out and refused to take any more, despite my insistence that they should eat them since I paid a lot of money for them. These are dogs who love trash, rotting animal carcasses, and cat barf. The Q has been known to snack on Kleenex straight out of the box (bet you can't eat just one!), and just last week he ate half of a 3 foot tall stack of fancy paper napkins.*

Maybe I'll cut out the middle man and feed them dollar bills, I thought derisively. These stupid dogs don't know the value of money.

When I thought about it more, though, I realized that maybe it is I who could learn a lesson from my dogs. I'm trying to force them to eat expensive treats for silly health reasons, and they're trying to tell me that they're happier licking the cans in the recycling bin.

M: Did you SEE how much money she spent on those nasty treats?
Q: I know, right? Is she made of money? Does she not know about these tough economic times?
M: Remember last week when we got a whole block of fancy cheese because she was afraid of a little mold?
Q: That girl needs recessionista lessons. Did you know that several years ago, she had to use the bathroom in the backyard with me for a whole month because she couldn't afford a plumber to fix the drains?
M: I heard that was because she used her emergency house fund to buy a digital camera.
Q: Some people never learn.




*Are you wondering why I own a 3 foot tall stack of fancy paper napkins? It was an anonymous gift. One of the good parts about my crappy ghetto neighborhood is that as well as stealing things from me, sometimes people leave me things. Besides the napkins, I've also gotten a bag of grass seed (this may have been a comment about the sad state of my front yard), a washing machine, and a bag of frozen bagels.

What do Kevin Bacon and the Royal Bank of Scotland have in common?

Lady Blogpants, below, has addressed some of the underlying causes of the dismaying drop in the billionaire population. Today’s arrest of Bernie Madoff highlights yet another factor, which is that some of them are getting a one-way ticket to the big house. Mr. Madoff, you remember, ran a Ponzi scheme that left him rich but cost his investors $65 billion. Let me say that again for full effect. $65 BILLION. The list of people from whom he stole, from grandmas in Florida retirement communities to Elie Wiesel, reveals what a morally bereft waste of organic compounds he is. He stole the life savings of a Nobel-Peace-Prize-winning Holocaust survivor AND 15.2 million from his charity, the Elie Wiesel Foundation for Humanity. That takes a special kind of asshole. I fail to see any reason whatsoever that this man should be allowed to live in human society, but a quick death at the hands of a vigilante squad seems too good for him, also. Justice will certainly not be served by him living out the remainder of his years at the expense of the American taxpayer in a cushy white-collar prison where he will enjoy amenities (health care, cable tv, air conditioning) that many completely innocent people in this country don’t get. How is it fair that Bernie Madoff gets air-conditioning when I don’t? Let me get this right. I'm the one who DIDN'T steal $65 billion, yet he will be lounging in comfort in his climate-controlled cell, flipping the bird to the summer heat, whilst I languish in the desert sun in a pool of my own sweat?

Here’s what he said to the judge in court. "I am actually grateful for this opportunity to publicly comment about my crimes, for which I am deeply sorry and ashamed," he said. Yes, after you’ve gotten caught is a great time to make a truly compelling apology. Your frantic dispersal of assets after the shit hit the fan showed us exactly how sorry you are. You know when would have been a more convincing time to publicly comment about your crimes? BEFORE you got caught. Maybe even a long time ago when you first started. Or maybe, just maybe, you could have realized beforehand that stealing money from Kevin Bacon and the Royal Bank of Scotland is morally and legally wrong and then NOT DONE IT. Oh, now I’m just talking nonsense.

The Great Billionaire Shortage

Economically alert reader Laura from Bakersfield wrote in to let us know she read a simply horrifying article in the Wall Street Journal. It said that there are fewer billionaires than there used to be. Now, at first I assumed that was because the economic climate was impacting their habitat and they were going extinct as a result. I pictured a sad Bill Gates swimming miles through the Arctic seas looking for an ice shelf sturdy enough to have his pups upon. Then that got me thinking about Planet Earth, and how now Disney has apparently turned it into a regular movie instead of the 10-hour BBC-produced David Attenborough-narrated documentary extravaganza that got me through the long winter of 2007-2008, and if Disney makes it all cutesy-poo and doesn't show great white sharks slingshotting seals through the air I am going to be most displeased.

Anyway, it turns out it's not that billionaires are dying off any faster than usual, it's that some of them have lost enough money to drop down to being merely hundred millionaires. Can you imagine? In fact, as of 2009, there are only 793 billionaires left in the whole world. It is unknown how many of them are breeding pairs producing viable offspring, and scientists have found that billionaire offspring tend to be inbred fucktards anyway. To make matters worse, the Bush administration had downgraded billionaires from their previous "endangered" status, to merely "threatened", and Obama shows no signs of re-listing them. OH TOUGH ECONOMIC TIMES, WILL YOU SHOW NO MERCY TO THOSE WHO LEAST DESERVE IT?

As Goes Cleveland

The more I read, the more I realize the members of the These Tough Economic Times team are pretty well insulated from the bad things happening in other places right now. We all still have jobs, although the team member who works for a well known adult TV network (motto: "Hoping Old Dudes Will Still Pay for Soft-Core Porn on TV in the Age of Free Hard-Core Porn on the Internet") has been wisely squirreling away his pennies for a while. Those of us who own houses are managing to keep up with mortgage payments, although said houses may not be worth quite as much as they once were. Except for Blogtastic's, which I understand was quite literally the cheapest house in Reno. None of us had enough money to invest in stocks or any other worthless pieces of paper (fingers crossed on the dollar!). We live in cities not economically dependent on car manufacturing or industry in general. In short, we're doing okay. Have I rubbed it in enough?

But holy hell, did you read the Sunday New York Times article about the thousands of abandoned, worthless houses in Cleveland? The Cleve is not doing well, you guys. Houses are selling for less than their original 1920s prices--you can buy one for $500. Of course, that house has had all its appliances and pipes ripped out by scavengers, bums have been living in it, and gangs enjoy the occasional crack party there. Oh yeah, and it's in Cleveland. But still, I kind of feel like I should buy one just because I can. Not to "flip" like all the profiteering assholes who helped cause this mess, but just to have. I'll never be able to afford one in the urban West for which I have such fondness; can't I just have one in Ohio? I would hug it and squeeze it and call it George. Oo! Maybe I could put it on a flatbed truck and move it somewhere that isn't Cleveland!

I am totally okay with all the poorly-planned, ugly sprawly 1990s McMansion suburbs being abandoned and reverting back to nature, or becoming home bases for roving bands of highwaymen. It would be kind of neat to have a post-apocalyptic part of town, especially because it would presumably eventually have a Thunderdome and some crazy new style of dancing. But I am not cool with that happening to 1920s houses in a historical neighborhood called Slavic Village. Even if they are in Cleveland.

News of the Painfully Obvious

Yahoo news headline: Federal Reserve Chairman Bernanke Says Regulatory Overhaul Needed.

Gee, do you think? I can’t imagine what tipped you off on that. Perhaps the fact that we are surrounded by crumbling financial institutions taking millions upon millions of dollars of aid from the federal government after years of unregulated financial free-for-all? Good eye, Detective Bernanke.

Bernanke also said the U.S. recession could end this year only if the government is successful in getting financial markets to operate more normally again. So, let me get this right… once we can get the financial market to quit operating like it’s in a recession, we won’t be in a recession anymore. Basically you’re saying that the recession will end this year if we can end the recession. That’s very insightful. Thanks, Wizard Bernanke! He’s full of other truisms, too, such as that big companies shouldn’t take excessive risks that threaten billions of dollars of investors’ and taxpayers’ money. If only people never did things that they shouldn’t. I also shouldn’t punch you in the mouth if ever I see you in person, Mr. Bernanke.

If only there were some kind of institution responsible for regulatory oversight...

Looks Like Somebody's Got Money These Days...

Hippies...

How To Fit In When Using Public Transportation: Hobo Slang Lesson 1

Let's face it. If this country keeps heading the direction we're in (experiencing slight inconveniences in our spending budgets) then we might as well just accept that it's a matter of months before we're all riding the fucking rails. And by that I mean "public transportation". What? You've never ridden a bus or subway before? What if the common folk spot you as an outsider and try to eat you?

Here's how to fit in: Hobo Slang! Hobo Slang has been passed on from the original old timey bums who hopped on trains to the modern dirty bum low class people who take public transportation and now on to you! Here are a few examples of hobo slang and how to use it. Pay attention or you'll look like a sweet back (someone only sampling hobo life)!

LESSON 1:

Bindle Stick: your polka dot bandanna full of belongings tied to a stick.
"Let me pull this single lima bean out of my bindle stick and split it with a knife so we can share it!"

Zook: an old worn out prostitute.
"Hi I'm a Zook! What's your name?"

Beagles: hot dogs
"Beagles! Beagles! I love Beagles!"

Chicken In The Clay: A chicken rolled in mud and then roasted.
"What the fuck do you mean I can't start a fire in the middle of the bus? I'm trying to cook a fucking chicken in the clay!"

The Big Burg: New York City
"Eyy This isn't-a how they-a make-a pizza in The Big Burg!"
Other hobo slang for New York City: Big Town (BE WARNED: Big Town is hobo slang for both New York AND Chicago so using Big Town in the above sentence could bring on a NY vs Chicago style pizza debate).

Clay On The Shuck: ears of corn rolled in clay and set out to roast
"Hey fellow passengers I'm making a Clay on the-wait why the fuck am I covering food with mud before I cook it?"

Dummy: A tramp that pretends to be deaf and dumb
"I can't pay the bus fare today. I'm Helen Keller! I mean I'm a dummy!"

Fag: a) a cigarette butt, b) a young hobo with homosexual tendencies
"Pardon me do you have a lighter? I think after this cigarette I'm going to attempt to have homosexual intercourse with that fag in the back of the subway"

Glomming The Grapevine: stealing clothes from a clothesline
"You wouldn't believe the deals at the Macy's sale this weekend! I felt like I was glommerganging the gloomerzang... oooh I can never get this hobo slang stuff right! Fuck it I'm getting a cab and putting it on my credit card! Hey how do you get off this thing? Conductor! Stop this bus immediately!"

Now go try those out and stay tuned for lesson 2!!!!

Recessionista. Meet the Depressionista.

Screw you Miss FancyPants Recessionista, with your free online grocery coupons and bags of prewashed arugula, the Depressionista is in the house (well, the foreclosed faux-Tuscan mini-manse in Elk Grove that's about to be snapped up for dimes on the dollar by some shady ex-Countrywide exec, but in the house nonetheless). Shattering the stereotype of the tech-averse geriatric who wouldn't know YouTube from a catheter tube, 93-year old Clara has her own Depression-era cooking channel. While thankfully short on recipes that I would've normally associated with Depression-era cuisine (no possum soup, squirrel soup, or any other soup made from small rodents) it is eerily similar to cheap ass bachelor food I ate in college and still enjoy when my wife is out of town. Throw a bunch of shit in a pan, fry it up, then put ketchup on it. If it tasted as horrible as it looked, well, you could always go and get pizza. I don't think pizza was an option during the Depression. Some things are surprising. Clara uses olive oil in some of her recipes and I wonder how available a good extra virgin olive oil was in 1933. I tend to think of the Depression as a Crisco and lard kinda time. Anyway, study up, because when things get really bad, like hock your iPhone at Slim's Gold 'n' Guns Pawn Palace bad, you may need to have a few extra kidney bean and potato recipes up your sleeve.

I totally did not make this up

I like to make fun of the jackasses who took out stupid loans to finance their unreasonable lifestyles as much as the next guy. Silly me, I bought a crappy little house in a crappy ghetto neighborhood (Motto: Even the cops won't come here!) because that's what I could afford; if I'd known I could have gotten bailed out of an adjustable rate mortgage on a fancy schmancy house with new-fangled luxuries like air-conditioning and functional doors, I certainly would have.

However, I read an article in the newspaper today that sheds light on a different facet of the housing crisis. While there were many people who were greedy and stupid, there were also some people who were just plain and simple stupid. A whole group of people in New York City apparently got swindled out of their houses by a company called "Home Savers"*, which promised to help them get out of debt by refinancing their mortgages but in actuality tricked the people out of the titles to their houses in order to get overinflated mortgages from IndyMac. I have pretty much zero financial or real estate savvy, but I think that even I would recognize a scam such as this, especially right about the time that I signed over the deed to my house. The article is mainly about one sad little old lady named Waver Brickhouse, for whom I actually do feel sorry. It would be nice to live in a world where people don't go out of their way to steal houses from little old ladies.

In any case, this story brings to the forefront another important point, which is that somewhere in New York City is a housing crisis victim whose actual name is Waver Brickhouse.

*I like that the house-stealing company is named "Home Savers". It's like the happy names that Bush gave to things to cover up their devious intent, like the "Healthy Forest Initiative" that allowed clear-cutting on National Forests with no environmental review, or "Enhanced Interrogation", which meant government-sanctioned torture.

Our Huge Prospective MBA Demographic

I love that the ads Google has deemed most related to our blog content are all for MBA programs. Like some sad businessman actually goes "Hmm. I'm all laid off and stuff now, I guess I'll use teh internets to figure out what to do next." Then he sits down and cracks his knuckles and wiggles his fingers around and googles "these tough economic times", which leads him to this blog (which wouldn't really happen since we're not showing up on Google yet). And he's all excited, "Oh boy, this blog is going to teach me how to--heyyyy wait a minute, they're making fun of me! But look, there are ads for MBA programs! Getting an MBA? What a terrific idea!" CLICK CLICK CLICK! ECONOMY FIXED!

I would bet the ones of ones of dollars we've made off of our ads that the kind of people who read this blog are not the kind of people who want an MBA from the Florida Polytechnical Institute. (This is a pretty safe bet, since I know half the people who read this are archaeologists and the other half are my parents).

Sad Irony

People in these tough economic times could learn a lot from Gandhi, who eschewed material possessions and instead focused on achieving spiritual enlightenment. Oh yeah, and India's independence.

It is only natural that the owner of Gandhi's few belongings (consisting of his eyeglasses, sandals, a bowl, a plate, and a pocketwatch), rather than using them to teach a consumer-frenzied people about what is truly meaningful in life, took those items last Thursday and sold them at auction for $1.8 MILLION.

It seems that the world has gone terribly awry when one literally puts a price tag on the belongings of an ascetic.

Ha Ha Ha Screw You Circuit City

There are a few victories in THESE TOUGH ECONOMIC TIMES. The last of the Circuit City stores are closing. Oh wait! Where will I go now to attempt to buy something but end up storming out because one of these things happened:

1. After several attempts to try and help me while I politely reply that I'm fine and don't need help, I finally give in and tell the customer service representative what I'm looking for and that I will be buying the cheapest version they have. Then he will spend the next 5 minutes trying to convince me how foolish it is to get the cheap version and if I was smart I'd buy a different one that costs twice as much, while I keep sneezing because he has too much cologne on. Then I get fed up and leave.

2. After wandering around looking at all the overpriced garbage I realize instead of paying $70 for a TV cable I should just go to the 99cent store to buy it (Even though I know I'll get lead poisoning from the 99cent store version because everything there is half lead. Even their flip flops have warnings on them).

3. I actually find something I want to buy but they won't just let me just hand them cash and then they give me change and a receipt because a transaction CAN'T BE MADE unless I give them my full name, address, and phone number. I had a guy actually refuse to let a sale go through once because I wouldn't show him my driver's license so he could take down that information. Or maybe he didn't believe that I really lived on 1234 Fart Street in Boogertown, USA.

What memories! How could a company like that go under? Oh also as their final fuck you to customers, you can't return anything you bought in their closing sale that you take home then realize is broken.

Why yes, Bank of America, I'd LOVE to get a home loan from you!

So I went to Bank of America yesterday to deposit my rent check in my landlord's account. I don't have a Bank of America account, because I keep all my money at my credit union and in my secret piggybank. A manager-type lady was my banker for the day, and here is a rough transcription of our conversation. One of my responses may have only happened in my head, but let's not let my inability to express myself verbally get in the way of a good story.

Banker: So is this going in your account?

Me: No, it's going into my landlord's account. There's his deposit slip.

Banker: You should buy a house! This is a HUGE rent payment!

Me: A mortgage payment would be huger.

Banker: No it wouldn't!

Me: Yes it would. I've done the math.

Banker: Now's a great time to buy!

Me: I'm not sure that's true.

Banker: It is! You should talk to our mortgage people!

Me: Okay lady, let me lay it out for you. Housing prices are still way overinflated around here and a down payment would eat up all of my paltry savings, leaving me with no cushion whatsoever to save me if I lost my job or got sick. This was true when interest rates were low and everyone yelled BUY BUY BUY, and it's still true now. I don't plan on staying in Reno for the 30 years it would take for a house purchase to make any financial sense. I like renting my cute 3-bedroom house with a giant yard in a nice older neighborhood, where the handyman fixes things that break, and if I decide to up and move, I can. If you think I will trust any sales pitch by a banker in these tough economic times, you are more deluded than a Rock of Love contestant. And in conclusion, how about you just deposit my check and mind your own goddamn business.

Foiled again, vultures! I know you can smell my good credit score, steady income and lack of debt, but I regret to inform you I won't be using any of it to buy a house. I'll keep renting with it, in accordance with every single "should you rent or buy?" calculator I've ever tried. Maybe for the rest of my life. Or maybe I'll do something totally frivolous with it. Maybe I'll take it down to Puerto Vallarta and get it drunk. Maybe we'll get married. Maybe we'll buy a little fishing boat and ply the azure waves. Only time will tell.

Joe Nocera is my new boyfriend

If you don't know who Joe Nocera is, he writes the Talking Business column for the New York Times (I act all smug for knowing that, but it's only because I just saw him on The Daily Show). If you want to get really angry, read his article Propping Up a House of Cards. It explains how AIG managed to chalk up the largest quarterly loss in history (possibly around $60 billion dollars) while playing hopscotch through legal loopholes and selling unregulated "credit-default swaps", which are some kind of complicated made-up things that act like insurance on securities. Banks could buy these things to transfer their risk of loss back to AIG and make it look like all their subprime-mortgage-backed securities weren't so risky, after all. Which was great, except that AIG didn't have the collateral to back up the insurance. Are you following this? They were selling fake insurance on derivatives of derivatives. Thanks for your oversight, SEC! It's like an insurance company, but without the insurance part of it! As Nocera points out, another word for this is "scam." Now the federal government has been throwing money at AIG like crazy in an attempt to forestall the end of Western civilization as we know it (well, the banking part of it, anyway).

Mr. Nocera asked a former AIG executive if he thought they were guilty of "gaming the system". The executive replied that they were just trying to satisfy their customers. Uh huh. If by "satisfy the customers" he meant "Completely fuck a whole bunch of different people due to unadulterated yet short-sighted greed." Why would they want to take responsibility for this, just because it's their fault?

Is it fun being a billionaire? Jon Stewart skins CNBC alive.

You all have probably seen this clip from The Daily Show already, but because I am cheap and do not have cable, I watched it on the wonderful Internet today. Jon Stewart takes CNBC to task on their years of bullshit business reporting and their fawning over lying CEOs. And he reserves a very special section to tear that sweat soaked a-hole Jim Cramer a new, well, a-hole. The best is at the end when CNBC "correspondent" Carl Quintanilla (I think he used to play second fiddle to that journalistic powerhouse Stone Philips on "Dateline") tosses up the biggest softball ever to Ponzi-schemer Marc Stanford. You have to hear the question for yourself. If you haven't seen this clip already, you'll wonder how you can laugh and be violently pissed off at the same time.

Washington Post Gives Wet Sloppy Tongue Kisses to Unemployed Globe Trotting Ex-Masters of the Universe

 Wish you were here, exploring emerging markets with me...

Really. With stories like these I can't wait to see the end of newspapers.

The Recessionista Responds

I see one of my fellow bloggers has cast aspersions on me. Hold up, girlfriend. There's a problem with your deconstruction of my lexiwhoozits. I'M NOT REAL. I'm pretty sure I'm a fabrication of the newspaper business, one of several These Tough Economic Times archetypes which help illustrate TTET for the dummies of the world. You know, all those people who still read newspapers. These fakey characters are still in the formation stage but so far we have:

The Sad Businessman/woman
I used to have one of those jobs where I made money off things that weren't real, like pork bellies or housing prices. Now I don't have a job and I'm all pitiful about it and some guy just came to my support group meeting and took all the doughnuts.

The Recessionista
I am one of those ladies who used to buy all the clothes (note: those ladies are also fictitious characters created by Candace Bushnell), and then my rich businessman boyfriend or husband lost his job and became sad, and then the New York Times wrote some article about how me and my girlfriends HAAAYYYY have a support group, and a lot of people got annoyed.

The Human Litter-Haver
I had eight fucking babies. I am mentally ill and have had some bad plastic surgery on my face parts. There is no way I can be a real person.

The Working Class Person
I am the guy/gal actually getting really fucked by these tough economic times. I didn't have much money to begin with, and I didn't make any stupid investments or purchases. The sad businessmen are taking all my janitorial jobs.

Oh wait, the newspapers don't actually write any articles about that guy. His descent from just above the poverty line to way below the poverty line isn't very entertaining. MORE MONSTERS HAVING LITTERS OF HUMANS PLEASE!

The Recession: A Lexicographic Examination, Entry #1

Recessionista - This is a person, usually a woman, who a scant two years ago couldn't utter a sentence that didn't include the phrases "Can I see the Jimmy Choo's in a size 6" or "I'll have another cosmopolitan." But now, in the midst of economic meltdown, she can't hold a conversation without mention of coupon clipping, crocheting, and how she's finally learning how to use the six-burner professional Viking range that's sat unused in the middle of this room called a "kitchen."

Despite her newfound frugality she still watches "Real Housewives of Orange County" and "Sex in the City" reruns religiously, and will start wielding her AmEx Gold Card once her husband finishes up that sentence for investment fraud.

See the Man With the Harvard MBA? Get Him.

As we sit back and survey the smoking crater that is currently the American economy a question naturally comes to mind: who crashed the fucking plane? The insatiable American consumer, who couldn't pass a McMansion, sweatshop-crafted Vuitton handbag or Hummer without gobbling it up like a plate of jalepeno poppers at Chili's, played a very acclaimed supporting role, but it appears that graduates from a handful of elite business schools may just win the Oscar for best lead actor in this miserable fucking drama that is quickly becoming our generation's Depression. Harvard MBAs lead the pack, followed closely by graduates from NYU's Stern School of business, then Cornell. The Harvard connection is not that surprising considering Shrub himself, George W. Bush, somehow got himself graduated with an MBA from that illustrious institution.

This is really the name of a law firm...

Anderson Kill Wood & Bender.

THEN vs NOW

OK once again let's clear things up. This recession we're going through is NOT LIKE THE GREAT DEPRESSION. AT ALL. Here are a few points to help clarify this:

"I'm hungry!"

THIS RECESSION: I think I'll go use my credit card and buy some food at the fully stocked grocery store. Excuse me are these apples organic? Helloooo? Do you even speak English?
THE GREAT DEPRESSION: Fuck you, eat your kids.

"I lost my job!"

THE GREAT DEPRESSION: I might have to move to California to find work. This dust storm sucks anyways. Pack up family! We're goin' west!
THIS RECESSION: I'm going to just hide in one of the closets in my 8 bedroom house with one of those silver emergency blankets wrapped around my head. Then months later I'll crawl out and take a less desirable job for less money but compare it to the Holocaust.

"I'm almost out of cash!"

THE GREAT DEPRESSION: Better hide this in my mattress and play the fiddle till this all passes!
THIS RECESSION: Wait, I can only afford an older generation iPod? I'd better murder my whole family!

I'm predicting that it's only a matter of time before we see a goddamn photo of some laid off businessman or woman wearing fucking OVERALLS because THAT'S ALL THEY HAVE LEFT TO WEAR. Because they're SO POOR now. However if we see one of them wearing nothing but a barrel, that person deserves a high five.

Fate worse than death!

Quotation of the day in yesterday's New York Times:

"It has been the hardest thing in my life. It has been harder than my divorce from my husband. It has really been even worse than the death of my mother."
-Ame Arlt

Holy tough economic times, batman! The absolute worst thing ever in her whole entire life! What could possibly have happened to this poor lady? Did she contract a debilitating disease? Did her children get kidnapped? No, she had to take an hourly wage job. That's it. Just a regular old job. I understand that going from a high-paying executive job to a less lucrative one is not a favorable change, but worse than the death of your mother? Really? If she had to choose between having her mother alive or having a better job, she'd choose the job? That settles it. Hourly wage jobs are, indeed, worse than death.

I looked up her mother's obitiuary. Mom died of cancer several years ago. Well, at least she never had to experience the heart-wrenching despair of the non-salaried workplace. I mean, she got off pretty easy, when you think about it. Cancer is probably like a fucking picnic compared to an hourly wage job. Except for the part where there's no picnic, and then you die.

The article mentions that this woman also used to have a tack store and equestrian magazine, which explains a lot. I know this woman. I used to work at a fancy dressage stable that was full of them. Like the one who had to import her new horse from Sweden, because Lord knows there weren't any decent horses in THIS country. Like the one who bought a $30,000 show horse for her pre-pubescent daughter, because little Betty Lou would be so upset if she didn't win ribbons at all the shows. There is still a review of Ms. Arlt's now-closed tack store online; the user describes it as having "Snooty staff, high prices, zero customer service." She says that the staff appeared to be annoyed at a commoner breathing their air.

Maybe there is justice in the world after all (but I'm still waiting for my ex to get hit by a bus before I will say I believe in karma).

You Wanna Be Mad? Harry Markopolous Is Gonna Make You F-in' Irate!

Mild mannered math nerds don't usually don't achieve folk hero status, but Harry Markopolous is a guy who deserves a Depression-era ditty written about him. For those of you who didn't see him shaking his fist and raising his voice in a congressional hearing a couple of weeks back, or missed 60 Minutes last night because you were too busy watching idiots get punched in the nuts on AFV, Harry Markopolous is the guy who started blowing the whistle on Bernie Madoff back in 2001. For eight years he duly alerted the SEC that Madoff was running a scam, and for eight years they ignored him, indtead focusing their resources on public enemy number one Martha Stewart. For all Stewart's crimes, her alleged insider trading is the least egregious. But Madoff got off. And would have kept getting off if everything remained peaches and cream in the stock market. If you didn't watch 60 Minutes, you owe it to yourself to see for yourself what a giant fuckup this was on the part of the government. Or was it a fuckup? Was the SEC in bed with Madoff? Stranger things have happened.

More Assholery

For such a so-called "liberal" paper, the New York Times is sure working overtime these days to provide the city's rich folk with a shoulder to cry on. Check out this article about a top New York City real estate agent giving up her Rolls fucking Royce in favor of - gasp! - an Audi station wagon! To look less pretentious.

"Ms. Baum said she could still afford the monthly lease — upward of $3,000 — and the high costs of repairing and garaging the car. She’s giving it up, she said, only because she has come to feel deeply uncomfortable riding around in the Rolls, spacious and well-appointed though it may be. 'I want to adjust to the times,' Ms. Baum said as she and Mr. Jaffeer stopped outside 580 Park Avenue, one of the city’s more prestigious prewar co-op buildings."

Really now, we wouldn't want mummy rolling up to Spoiled Brat Country Day in the Audi, now would we! Talk about embarrassing. Nothing says "one step away from food stamps" like having to trade down for a goddamn German engineered station wagon. Please tell me it's at least an A8 and not one of those lowly A4s, or, God forbid, an A3. Then you might as well just take your clients on the bus.

MONEY SAVING TIPS!

So far in these tough economic times I think the thing that has bothered me most are the articles and stories on the news that provide MONEY SAVING TIPS! Then you read on and see these aren't really tips, but basic common sense things that if you didn't do already, then you're a fucking moron. Here are some actual suggestions I've read:

-"Make a monthly budget" - Really? You can do that? You mean I can look at how much money I'm bringing in, then determine how much I have per month to spend on certain things? OK I'll try it. Oops! Looks like I can't afford this fancy car or giant house after all. Someone bail me out please! FAAAART!!!!

-"Wait and buy things when they are on sale" Do most people just blindly buy things without looking if they might be on sale somewhere else? Or even stop and think that you don't need whatever it is right now and can wait and get it when it's cheaper?

-"Don't buy things you don't need". Oh you mean dipshit gadgets like iphones and fancy speakers and giant flat screen TVs that before you said were must-have items?

-"Cook dinner instead of going out every meal" - Wait you mean buying groceries and then cooking them yourself is cheaper than going out? You can do that? But then who's going to do the dishes? Oh.

-"Make your own coffee instead of going to Starbucks". You can make coffee at home?????? FUUUUUCK!!!!!!

-"Don't buy name brand versions of food" - You mean I don't have to spend $5.99 on this box of cereal with the bird on it? I can go to Trader Joe's and buy their knock off version (that's actually better for you) for $1.99?

If you don't already do the above things then I hope you become a bum. In fact I hope these tough economic times produce a whole new bum race made up of stupid people who have lost all their money because they didn't have common sense. Unlike the old bums who were crazy and you felt sorry for, with these new ones you can freely mock and throw things at them.

Soon: a post where I reveal some actual money saving tips that work.

YOU POOR BUSINESSMEN!

My goodness. I read a newspaper the other day and you would not believe how rough a time businessmen are having these days! Some of them are have become so depressed they have to go to support groups to talk about how they're sad that they have to find new jobs that are beneath them.

These guys are the biggest goddamn babies on the planet. You know they probably applied to maybe two jobs then when they didn't get them they fell backwards onto a fainting couch with their hands to their foreheads and moaned about how they can't find work. Then to be extra dramatic they went out and got whatever job would be the most extreme opposite of their high paid job, just for pity (and hopefully so they could also get on the news for more pity). "I WENT FROM RICH INVESTMENT BANKER TO A GUY WHO HAS TO SMELL HOMELESS MEN'S DOGS' ASSES ALL DAY LONG. EVEN THOUGH THAT ACTUALLY ISN'T A JOB. BUT LOOK AT WHAT I'VE BECOME THANKS TO THE ECONOMY COLLAPSING." Yup you have to be one extreme or the other huh? Because there are definitely no jobs in between being the CEO of a company or the guy who cleans the toilets. Or the most pathetic of all, wearing a sandwich board saying you're an out of work businessman looking for a job. And now you have to go meet up with other sad sacks to whine about it.

This is an insult to support groups for people who have real grievances and addictions where they really need to talk about it and get support from people who have been in their shoes. These groups for sad businessmen make me want to just start slapping people (businessmen specifically).

I would love to sit in on one of their sessions. One of them would talk about how he used to run a Real Estate office and now he has to wash gutters using his tears. Then they'd all nod their heads and tell him he's being strong and I'd break the mood with fake crying and mimicking whatever he said last (also I'd have my chair flipped around so I'm sitting in it 'cool guy style'). Then if they say I don't know what it feels like to be in their situation I'll tell them about how when I was in between jobs a few years ago and had rent to pay I moved boxes for $10 an hour. Or I could mention the countless other random shitty jobs I've done in between full time jobs since half the places I've worked for have gone out of business. I didn't whine about it like a little girl, I showed up, did what I needed to do, then went home and drank beer. Oh also I didn't spend money I didn't have so I didn't get $30,000 in credit card debt. Then before the businessmen have a chance to respond I'm going to walk over and grab all the donuts and leave while flipping them the bird.

This year I can only afford the mink jacket instead of a whole coat, wah!

You can tell that these times are really tough, economically speaking, by reading in The New York Times and The San Francisco Chronicle about how rich people are having to be slightly inconvenienced. Why, just today I read a story about how a guy who had previously had some sort of snooty management job was laid off and had to take a job as a JANITOR! Well, I never! Having to work at an unappealing job just to make money, of all things. That shit is for COMMON FOLKS. And to top it all off, the poor dear is worried about making enough money to keep his 4 bedroom house, which he shares with one other person (his wife). Oh no! Quick, everybody, start a collection. I like that the photo accompanying the article shows the couple praying. Hey, you know what I've found makes more money than praying? WORKING. And not living in a luxurious 4 bedroom house. But who knows, maybe God is going to be all, "Screw those poor people living in slums with no health insurance, I'm really worried about the Richy Richersons having to suffer through a slight decrease in their currently extremely high standard of living."

My second favorite subject consists of the people who got married and bought ginormous expensive houses that they couldn't afford, and now, not only can they REALLY not afford the houses, but they don't like each other anymore and yet can't afford to get divorced. Those poor, poor things! They made long-term decisions about their lives just like grown-ups and now they're having to live with the consequences! THAT IS SO NOT FAIR - NOBODY TOLD ME I WOULD HAVE TO LIVE WITH THE RESULTS OF MY POOR DECISION-MAKING. One bail-out, please.

Screw You, Rich People

YAY OBAMA'S TAXING THE RICH!

I am so pleased with this. Finally all those ascot-wearing, monocle-polishing dickbags will have to pay their share. Tax them! Tax them up good! I love it! Already the whining has started in the New York Times--you know, "$250,000 sounds like a lot to mouth-breathers in the Midwest but here in NEW YORK and I hear also in CALIFORNIA (the New York of the West) it's really not very much money at all and rich people are just like you poor people because they also bought houses they couldn't afford and used their credit cards too much and it's not faaaaaaaiiiiiir."

SHUT UP SHUT UP! Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars a year is a hell of a lot of money. If you can't live on that you are an idiot and give it to me please. Okay, I grant that it's not enough money if you have major medical bills, since our horrible health insurance situation is capable of bankrupting the richiest rich. But wait, no, I take that back; if you make $250,000 a year you can afford good health insurance that actually pays for things, unlike my health insurance which takes $160 a month out of my paycheck and then makes me pay for my own annual Pap smear.

But I digress. I barely make fifty thousand dollars a year and I live quite comfortably. Granted, I live in Reno, but I could make it in the New York of the West too. I bet I could even live in the New York of the East*--I did it once, as an unpaid intern. I lived in a house for wayward women on the Upper West Side and I survived on rice and beans and bagels left over from Late Night writers' meetings. On my current salary, I bet I could afford to rent a studio in Queens and even go out to eat once a week. And you know what, New York Times? PEOPLE DO THAT EVERY DAY.

So all you two hundred and fifty thousandaires can go ahead and suck it. In these tough economic times.

*I should make it clear that I never want to live in Manhattan again. The buildings are too tall and it's too cold and the smell of roasting chestnuts makes me want to puke.

Hear Ye Hear Ye!

Hear ye hear ye! If you are a dummy who bought a house you couldn't afford, you are in LUCK! The bailout is on the way! Turn that frown upside down! I am sad I didn't get on the ball and sign up for an adjustable rate mortgage with no money down when I had the chance, for now I could be enjoying the benefits of not having to learn from my mistakes. That would have been fun for me, because LEARNING? UGH!

The These Tough Economic Times Team is proud to announce a new regular feature: Complete Breaks with Reality as Illustrated by the New York Times (When the Idiot Reno Deliverers Actually Manage to Get It to My House). Today's winner: the food section's piece about the rich people who have monthly tabs at restaurants. One rich lady said she ate out for lunch with the girls every day, and it wasn't very expensive at all--only $30-$40 each, since they just ate salads. FORTY DOLLARS FOR LUNCH. FOR SALAD LUNCH. I don't think I've ever spent $40 on lunch. In fact, I can't remember the last time I spent $40 on dinner. What's in a $40 salad? Is it composed entirely of foie gras and gold? How shameful...in THESE TOUGH ECONOMIC TIMES!

Welcome!

My fellow Americans,

We are living in tough economic times. These times of ours? So tough (economically). Things are difficult for us now. Extravagance is OUT and frugality is IN, at least according to the delightful newspaper articles I've been reading about "Recessionistas". I'M A RECESSIONISTA I'M ONLY BUYING THE $300 PURSE INSTEAD OF THE $1000 PURSE HAYYYYYY!

These tough economic times are exactly like the Great Depression, except that maybe you have to buy a smaller flat screen TV than you were planning to, whereas in the Great Depression people had to eat potato soup every day.

We started this blog in order to help you make it through. Check in on us whenever you can for helpful tips on surviving...these tough economic times.

Courage,
The These Tough Economic Times Team