Uninspired Toaster Dreams

​There’s a very special kind of torture I usually keep in mind for a very select few individuals on this planet. If I were ever given a carte blanche to dispense social justice, that is.
 
Some people just deserve some comeuppance, y’know?
 
Now, I’m not interested in narcissistic, profiteering fascists whose acts of oppression against their own people are continuously re-branded as patriotism protection measures. And you better believe that pompous pile of troll hair running things south of the 49th is one such ne’er do well.
 
But this post isn’t about that misogynistic waste of amniotic fluid, no sir (or m’am.) There is no shortage of jokes made on his account this past year alone, so I feel no need to add to the rising mound of shit upon which he resides. If you want some political fodder for the next office party, fire up your favourite browser; the sheer number of website hits will rival that of the entire online porn industry.
 
And, say, what do you think happened to all the porn stars of olde? I mean, you don’t hear of porn stars anymore. Going into adult film making was a legitimate career choice during the prime of the 70’s, 80’s, and early 90’s. Shoot, most vocational colleges had programs, I believe. Likely something along the lines of Indecent Proposals 101 or Advanced Bow-chicka-wow-wow.
 
And young actors looking to get some field experience could hone their adult film acting skills with an easy after-school job, like a pizza delivery dude or studly handy-man.
 
The internet must have completely destroyed the industry, no?
 
I mean, they (still talking about porn stars here) must have all gathered together to see the very first online nookie video, downloaded at 14kbps over the course of 11 hours (as long as NOBODY PICKED UP THE PHONE!) And you just know, with the looming possibility of people sharing endless naughty videos online for free, someone in the group must have muttered a deep truth right then and there concerning their questionable futures as adult film stars. Something eloquent, no doubt, somewhere along the lines of “Well, we’re fucked.” Ha! Get it?
 
So, like, what happened to these poor souls? No way are they still making films, right? With people making their own amateur videos and posting it for free while earning ad revenue, I would imagine there is no need for infamous adult stars anymore. People (couples as well as “just friends” duos) used to eagerly await the release of their favourite star’s latest endeavour, like Saving Ryan’s Privates and Harry Does Sally, in full colour VHS, and watch the hour and a half feature film with a steamy bowl of popcorn by their sides, probably with no small amount of light petting. But now, surely, the guys and gals of the traditional porn industry must have all hung up their whips, cock rings and fuzzy handcuffs long ago. I imagine them all deciding one day that it was time, that the world no longer needed them, and so they all walked off together, hand in hand, dissolving into the wind as they strolled towards a perfect Hollywood sunset.
 
Kinda sad, in a way.
 
A perfect example of how technology has made people’s jobs obsolete. Shoot, they weren’t hurting anybody. And it was just a part of life, one which every little boy and girl learned about at a healthy age, when they first stepped into a video rental store. Remember that mysterious little room with the black curtain? Oh, yes, we all remember that curtain. Girls, being the more mature species of humans, were probably less than remotely interested in what was behind that curtain. But for young boys, the magnetic pull was tantamount to that of the local hardware store BB gun. Not necessarily because we craved to see female nudity long before puberty ever asserted itself, but because we were curious, that’s all. We just wanted to sneak a peek in that little forbidden room of treasures, to see what all the fuss was about. Unfortunately, I never got a chance. Before I hit 18, I’d met my future wife, and it was more fun to hang out with her than the idea of sitting alone in a dark basement with a well-worn hi-fi copy of Village of the Rammed (and I’ll have you know, we kept the petting to a minimum when we were dating, thank you. My mum in law might be reading, after all.)
 
But the whole idea of renting a nudie flick is a bit gross, no? When you think of all the strange hands (sinful, inquisitive, probably never washed hands) which those hard-copy videos had passed through…ick. Now, however, with the delicious convenience of wi-fi and a vast array of other connected electronics, it’s far more hygienic for voyeurs to keep their hands confined to their own personal (and probably sticky) devices.
 
Where the Hell are we?
 
Oh, right.
 
So, yeah, some people deserve a bit of torture, in my opinion.
 
What, did I lose you back there? I’m talking about serving up some justice here, people, try to keep up. And get your mind out of the gutter.
 
No, I don’t care about real world dictators and “democratic” leaders wagging their dicks (there you go again, you naughty person you) at each other as they point to their big missiles set to deploy at the push of a button. Karma will set them straight one way or another.
 
But there are some monsters out there. Creatures of senseless evil which need to be tortured mercilessly for their comments and actions. People who, though they cannot possibly be held accountable for inflicted misery at the same level as instigators of genocide or even reckless natural destruction, are still regarded as undeserving fiends to society due to their complete lack of, well, imagination.
 
I’m talking about people who win the lottery, I’m talking mega bucks, then don’t do a dang thing different.
 
“Congratulations, sir, you are the proud winner of thirty million dollars from Friday’s Lottomax draw! What are you going to do with your winnings?”
 
Undeserving shnook: “Oh, I dunno, s’pose Edith an’ I’ll buy some bonds or something. GIC’s sound interesting, too…We’ll keep workin’, though. I get a full pension in sixteen years, ah-yup. And our car’s still good. A ’79 Gremlin…Maybe we’ll get a new toaster, though. Keeps burnin’ the bread. Maybe watch for a good sale at Sears…”
 
.
..
…
 
F – you.
 
You win THIRTY MILLION and you can’t get more imaginative than a discounted Black n Decker?!?! Go play in traffic, you uninspired sponge.
 
My mind won’t stop reeling at the infinite wonderful things I would do with millions in my account. Travel the world, for starters, not to mention look into tickets for commercial voyages to the moon. Build my dream home. Donate funds to small non-profit organizations trying to change the world for the better. Become an angel investor (always wanted an angel, hope he’s got big wings.) Quit work and write a novel or two. Go skydiving, learn to sail, float in zero-G parabolic flights, raft the entire Grand Canyon and test drive a tank.
 
And, oh, sooooo much more.
 
I once read an article about a couple in eastern Canada who won the lottery five times! Yeah, okay, the payouts varied, the smallest coming in at a “measly” twenty thousand, the biggest around five million. Still.
 
Isn’t that unbelievable? Some people have all the luck.
 
And if they were appreciative, humble and deserving people, it wouldn’t bother me one bit.
 
But, of course, they weren’t.
 
Get this. In regards to their last big win (something around the three-quarters of a million mark) these ingrates actually tried suing the lottery commission for delay of payment. Can you believe that? How greedy can you get?
 
Probably the lottery officials were busy running extensive background checks on these pirates trying to find out if they’d knowingly gone over the legal limit in terms of how many horseshoes, clovers and blue moons could be surgically implanted into one’s own rectum.
 
Greedy mooks like that don’t deserve to win. Bring the tar and feathers, I say!
 
Thankfully, every once in a rare while, you hear a different story, one where a young, loving couple who were down to their last couple of bucks, instead of buying a soon-to-be-expiring package of grade “B” hotdogs (Now with 30% more snouts!) from their local cornerstore to give their family sustenance for a single, miserable meal, decides instead to blow the last of their meager net worth on a single lottery ticket, ultimately winning the big jackpot.
 
Awesome.
 
Hearing that, your hope in humanity and the world beyond restored, you can’t help but bring your hands together in a slow, affirming clap, thinking Way to go, Universe. You done good.
 
Yeah, sure, I wanted to win that big payout, I’m not gonna lie about that. But if I had to lose, I’m glad it was to someone who really needed it, and will hopefully do some good with it.
 
I’m doing okay, anyway. We’re doing fine, in fact. Our bills are being paid, we live comfortably (if not fancy-free), and we’re blessed with a wonderful family to call our own. I guess it’s easy to understand why the universe passes us over when it’s handing out some big wins.
 
And maybe that’s why some people, even though they’re complete ass-hats, seem to have buckets and buckets of money being tossed their way. Maybe their lives actually suck so bad that the universe is basically throwing money at the problem, hoping to fix it. Sucky.
 
I guess I don’t really need to win the lottery. Things are going pretty well and I can’t complain, really. But still…a couple million in the bank wouldn’t be bad, either, I could make it work…
 
Damn cosmos, always passing me over with the cash payouts.
 
Maybe, maybe I should try to look more pathetic and needy. I could start by cobbling pants together from old rags rather than splurging on George’s at Wal-Mart. Heck, instead of name-brand cereal for breakfast, I could enjoy my milk over a heaping bowl of Alpo.
 
Yeah, maybe if I looked sad enough, the powers that be might just let me win the lottery sometime. Think it could work? Sort of? Maybe?
 
Maybe I should just remember to buy a ticket, for starters.
 
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