Of turtles and the assholes that somehow get marketing jobs

Okay, so for those of you who don't know, I live in northern Virginia, about an hour away from DC. And for those of you who have never been, the housing market is nothing short of ridiculous.

There's this sign that's on my way home that says "If You Lived Here, You'd Be Home!"

What the fuck?

I'm not such a dumbass that I don't understand the concept of my own location. I drive by that sign every day. Thing is, I don't live there. I'm not home. I'm sitting in traffic, staring at your fucking sign, wishing I had the balls to shoot myself right there. It's bad enough that the housing market is fucking ridiculous with their planned suburban neighborhoods that just never seem to stop growing or stop being effing expensive as shit. But now I have to stare at this ridiculous marketing ploy, telling me the most obvious thing in the world, making me feel dumb and making my very existence that much more dull and useless.

I'd love to sit in on one of these marketing meetings. Poor bastards. Apparently, by the time you work up a decent reputation in advertising, you're already completely out of touch with real life. You sink into a fantasy world where people become children who are easily amused by flashing lights and silly words like "poop" and "fart". (Haha, I totally just said "fart.") They treat everyone like they have ADHD. Yes, we need to be spoonfed the stupidest slogans on a regular basis to make us move in to your shitty little suburbia. "If You Lived Here, You'd Be Home!"

There's only one place that you can use that phrase: on a shell. Turtles, snails, and nautilises have the rare privelage of calling anywhere in the world their home. All they have to do is declare it. Predators afoot? Bam. Suddenly, our turtle friend is safe in his home. Fuck you, bird! I made it home just in time!

Can turtles run away from home? I know that some hermit crabs do it. But there's no real point. I mean, if you live by yourself in your own little bachelor pad, who are you trying to stick it to by running away? Come on, hermit crab. Don't be gay. Your father doesn't even know you. Quit being a pussy.

Anyways, the moral of this story is that anyone who uses this phrase should be gutted and have their organs put back in their bodies in alphabetical order. Furthermore, if you see a sign that says "If You Lived Here, You'd Be Home!", do your part. Get out of your car. Hop the fence. Change the sign so that it reads "If You Were A Turtle, You'd Be Home!"



orian57 said...

Stop that sissy, you're scaring me. Making sense. You need to come back to Uncyclopedia before you are assimilated into the evil facist orthadoxy of normality. Also what did you think to Lyle's column this week, I didn't think it was so good. I really want to get people involved in it. Have fun anyway.

SysRq said...

Eh, I really have no idea how long I'll be here in the land of the living. I got some other stuff I have to take care of, namely involving my tuba. But enough about that.

I have yet to read your latest Lyle column; I will do so now, for I enjoy said Lyle columns. =D

Thanks for reading.