Beats Entropy: Consumer report
January 10, 2008
The walls and halls of BE headquarters run thick with wisdom, and red with blood. Our combined life experience (when collated by the Arbitron 6500) prove a powerful panacea against ignorance and wrong-headedness. It is thus our responsibility to share our wisdom on all things, with you. Today we turn our savvy to the world of purchasable’s, in our new feature: BE Consumer report.
I was going to give a detailed breakdown of the scoring system, but you’re not retards, and I’m a little tired today. I’ll get right to business and leave the fine details for next edition. In a effort to give you informed commentary I will confine my reviews to products and services that I have actually acquired. Prepare yourself!
CEREAL AND RAISINS
I visited the grocery store with my ladyfriend, as I had no food. My house is many streets away, and it was cold and raining out, so I had to purchase only what I was willing to carry home. I bought a box of Life cereal as large as the moon, and a bag of raisins. I believe this, supplemented by light bird feeder theft, should get me through the winter.
Meets implied need: 9
The mandate of breakfast food in my life is trifold: Sustain me, comfort me, and shield me from betrayers. Each bowl of raisin enhanced wheat lattice filled my belly, and stirred forth the heedless innocence of my childhood.
I wrote this haiku when I was 9 and had to eat breakfast each day with my sisters. I think it speaks for itself.
milk and wheat redeem
how will you judge me today
safe behind this box
Can it be used as a weapon (in a pinch): 5 (Since I’m not sure if this is a + or -)
Oh man, you don’t even want to know. The intestinal ramifications of a diet primarily composed of wheat and tiny prunes has rendered my apartment as biologically active, as it is sociologically inhospitable.
My prostitute neighbour has been pounding on the ceiling, demanding that I “Turn that stink down”. I pounded back on said ceiling and suggested she “stop taking it three at a time and maybe things will tighten up past the need for sweat pants”. Not the most on point refutation…but my position was somewhat indefensible.
Aside from the gastric consequences there is certain ennui that takes hold when you eat cereal out of a pot two meals a day…while your obese cat looks on judging, yet envious. Each echo of childhood simplicity is underscored by a haunting “what am I doing with my life” refrain.
Sure I could just use a bowl and spare myself that pain…but none are the right size, and I’d have to get the milk out twice if I used a smaller one.
I should get 50 meals, and another 5 years life on my colon, from this box alone. The raisins, however, were too plump for my taste.
I know at least one reader is going to make some stupid joke involving the name of the cereal brand (Life). I would ask that they refrain, but I fear my prayers fall on deaf ears.
I’m not going to lie to you: I initially acquired the Muslim faith so I’d have an excuse to grow a beard (which is coming along nicely). Beyond the Hirsute-ical justification, however, there has been a aching spiritual void within me since The Venture Bros. went on hiatus, so some religion might keep the shotgun in the cupboard another day or two.
I wanted to keep things in house, so I’m essentially self taught/converted, and stumbling along as best I can. My seminary training consisted of browsing the wikipedia entry, then rigging a speak’n Spell up to a Koran and tossing them both in the bathtub with me. I think I got the gist of it.
Meets implied need: 9
As religions go it covers all the bases nicely:
-Demanding wrathful god that probably kinda looks like me
-World wide, rabidly devout, following
-Catchy theme music
-Praying like it’s going out of style
-The one true Prophet (accept no pretenders…seriously don’t: my responsibilities are quite clear should you do so).
Lot of infidels out there…and if I’m reading this Koran thing right, I’m supposed to do something about it. Thing is I’m a little on edge to begin with, and being the new zealot on the block I have a lot to prove, so I may be lacking the due restraint associated with the religion of peace.
Just yesterday I brutally beat some guy on the bus because I heard “I’m sad because of Mohammed.” Turns out he actually he was actually sad because his “Mom’s dead”; so a little unnecessary salt thrown in his wounds on my part.
Can it be used as weapon (in a pinch): Uh
Whew… kinda on treacherous philosophical ground here. I’m close to having to Jihad myself as it is, so I’ll just leave this a Zen Koanesque  point of reflection.
Seeing as I did my research at work (and counter baptized myself in the handicap washroom) there has been no cost outlay, and a respectable hourly wage attached, to my conversion. So at the moment, despite the marginal benefit accrued: Prophet=Profit.
My new name: Adbul Jaffar George Valliant.
Also: apparently you can spell Mohamed anyway you want and it is still correct. I can use that sort of cushion in my line of work.
 Provided I’m still allowed to make music (which I’m a little unsure of) look for my new single “I am my own Imam”.
 Turns out I’m really not supposed to do that sort of thing.
 Technically I’m osmotically inferring.
 Crap….is that blasphemous? I’m just angry all the time here.