In what is probably the most apropos yet ironically named company to go under, Aloha Airlines goes...well..Aloha.
So with all the bad financial news over the past few months one more death in the charnel house known as the American economy really didn't matter; except Cerebral Itch floated some serious expenses on the corporate Aloha Airlines credit card so we could score "free tickets" to Hawaii for all the thankless work we do. Now thanks to Aloha's stellar management, our miles and free tickets are worthless.
So here's the quick and dirty on the situation: There's been a fare ware going on for the past couple of years thanks to an upstart Phoenix-based airline called go! airlines. They flooded the market with below cost inter-island fares that rattled the complacent Hawaiian airline industry. Now I'm sure before go! even put up their first sign, Aloha and Hawaiian Airlines could see the storm coming. Radical countermeasures and shrewd business decisions should have been the order of the day. But instead, a great deal of whining about a "carpet-bagger" mainland corporation with no respect for Ohana was heard amongst many Aloha executives and residents alike. Last I checked, Hawaii was still part of the union and a free-market system. Competition and ruthless business strategies are all part of the deal keikis.
Well Aloha, you knew jet fuel wasn't going to get any cheaper and your competitors had more cash than you long before things got nasty. So what did you do? Scrambled at the last minute for a backroom fire sale acquisition, kept your loyal employees in the dark and served the most inedible celophane-wrapped crap sandwiches on earth while you prayed for an easy way out.
Monday, March 31, 2008
In what is probably the most apropos yet ironically named company to go under, Aloha Airlines goes...well..Aloha.
Friday, March 28, 2008
DATELINE: March 28, 2022 - It has been six years since the celebrated Obama presidency ended, but former first lady and New York Senator Hillary Clinton still continues her campaign for the 2008 United States presidency.
Clad in one of her three faded trademark pantsuits looking all her 74 years and driving her own illegal petroleum fuel burning campaign bus, Mrs. Clinton can be found in one of three places, none of which are home: Michigan, Ohio and New Hampshire. They are the three corners of the sad trek of a woman who just can't face the facts that her presidential aspirations ended in the Spring of '08. It was when then-Senator Barack Obama made quick work of her in the remaining primaries as well as received the overwhelming endorsement from the majority of Super Delegates and Democratic party elders. Clinton refused to relent and campaigned throughout the remainder of the election season drawing smaller and smaller crowds in each city she visited. Her staff completely abandoned her by June of that year and Clinton was quickly forced to administer all facets of a quixotic presidential campaign. Her 2008 campaign was capped by her disorderly conduct arrest during the first Obama inauguration resulting in her forced resignation of her senate seat. Her campaign to this day is financed by minuscule donations (rumors persist that certain late-night talk shows are funding her campaign just for material) and revenue generated by online merchandise sales bearing her self-deprecating slogan "Hillary - Crazy for the presidency".
It's a sad sight to those who remember how the former Senator was a force to be reckoned with on issues debated on the senate floor. Once a stalwart crusader for universal healthcare and working class families; Clinton will be remembered for her canned insincerity, vindictive campaigning and grandiose embellishments of her executive record while First Lady. The negatives quickly sank a campaign that in 2007 brandished the veneer of inevitability.
Today at a "rally" in a Lansing, Michigan Best Western conference room, Clinton spoke to 17 people with a voice that is hardly tired but completely shrill, continuing to push for the 2008 Michigan and Florida primary votes to be counted claiming they overwhelmingly favored her and reminding people of her Ohio and New Hampshire comeback victories of that same race. Needless to say, there are still Clinton "supporters" that come to her rallies. Usually never more than 20 people at each event, the attendees mostly consist of sincere older white women who still wish to see her or any woman in the White House and college students who consider being part of a Hillary rally a must-do on any spring break road trip. "She's out of her mind and it's hilarious!" Said Seth Gutierrez, Michigan State University freshman. "My parents would tell me stories of her time as First Lady and senator which I can't believe when I see her on stage singing the National Anthem and claiming she's fighting for me - you can't buy that kind of crazy from a pill".
Ironically, after the first Obama inauguration, it was former President Bill Clinton who left her in divorce citing irreconcilable differences. Many believe it should have been she who left him after the Monica Lewinsky affair, but she stayed married in what others also believe, was a calculated political play for her own presidency. The former President now lives out his golden years in Martha's Vineyard with supermodel and fifth wife, 23 year old Ava Elizabeth, daughter of Academy Award winning actors Reese Witherspoon and Ryan Phillippe. Estranged daughter and US Representative (NY - dist.14), Chelsea Clinton Mezvinsky could not be reached for comment.
As the glare from the afternoon grows dim, so does the fire in her eyes as she tiredly hobbles into her ramshackle bus, angrily waving off any assistance. She claims that she's headed to Florida to lobby the state legislature for a new primary. This reporter didn't have the heart to tell her Florida no longer exists and that it's now the largest man-made reef in the world ever since the 2017 catastrophic global warm-up that submerged a majority of the gulf cities. Details like that don't deter a clinically insane woman who will let her detractors call her many things, except a loser and a quitter.
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
It’s a pretty mixed bag of nuts over here at the Cerebral Itch offices. To say we have a typical employee would be like saying there is a typical penis (wait, not that I’d know). We got your bouncy perky fitness club types and your bitter sardonic Paxil popping Xbox 360 playing geeks. It’s a lively bunch that always keeps the rumor mill and Human Resources hopping.
So one of our favorite employees, a Brit if you must know, came back yesterday from a family vacation. With his wife and three kids in tow, they did the historic east coast colonial tour. First off, color us shocked when we all found out this chap had a wife much less kids. Secondly, he had the funniest goddamn story from his trip that we had to share it with our readers. He sent it to me in an email this morning and like all good or really bad emails, they go way past their intended recipients
Sent: Wednesday, March 26, 2008
To: The Boss
Subject: Jungle Fun can kiss my alabaster ass
Last Thursday it’s pissing rain in Pennsylvania and we’re trapped in our hotel room. The wife said she’d watch our boy, who’s got more energy than a f’kin’ OPEC nation, so I said I’d help out and take the two girls off her hands in the hope she might return the favor later by perhaps pruning me ol’ twig and berries if you get my drift. My plan was to take the girls to an indoor playground called Jungle Fun, which I saw as a perfect name for a strip joint, but that’s just me. My thought process was focused on grabbing a newspaper, a bloody huge cup of coffee and getting to this ring of hell where I would waste an hour reading about the world whilst forcing some caffeine into my bloodstream while my girls scream and bounce around like crazed banshees.
Due to lack of parking, I abandoned the car on a patch of grass adjacent to the parking lot, grabbed the tots and struck out in the inclement weather for the gleaming Jungle Fun entrance. When I entered the Jungle Fun foyer if you will, we were smacked with a downright rapacious admission fee. Not only that, but the twits had a sign blaring “No outside food or drinks allowed” right next to another saying “we sell Starbucks coffee” – bastards! Holding my own just-purchased Starbucks, the fellow behind the counter yells “no drinks….see!” and points to the sign.
Now if he had been courteous I would have been fine, but I kept my mouth shut (hard for me) and proceeded to enjoy my coffee in the Jungle Fun foyer. He then insisted that I drink it outside in the cold. That was the last f’kin straw, I yelled back at the nancy-boy, “What am I supposed to do; take my girls outside in the cold whilst I down my coffee, or leave them inside on their own?” So fine, I take this cock-up of a minimum wage worker’s advice and stand outside with the door wide open enjoying my coffee. He then yells at me to close the door. This is the point I decide I am not spending any money on their jungle shite. So as me and the girls turn to leave, some manager comes running out and threatens to call the police. I said “go ahead ya’ wee-puss of a man! – what are ya’ going to tell the 911 dispatcher 'please come quick, someone is drinking coffee next to a sign that says he shouldn’t'”. He then rushes in to get a clipboard to scratch down my license number at which point I gladly point out that I was parked illegally too. I have not been kicked out of a bar since college, but I am now banned from Jungle Fun for life.
Monday, March 24, 2008
Sunday, March 23, 2008
The death of four U.S soldiers today added to the loss endured by our country by pushing the official Iraq death toll to the grim milestone of 4000 dead. Our prayers go to their families and fellow soldiers. Our venom goes to the men who sent them off to become that number.
Friday, March 21, 2008
I think I speak for many when I say that this whole Reverend Jeremiah Wright kerfuffle (yes, I wrote kerfuffle) is growing a bit asinine. Asinine in the fact that the news outlets (or should I say "news anuses" because an anus is an outlet too and consistently more useful than most news organizations) have yet to properly hold up Reverend Wright's vituperative language and compare it to some of our nation's most well-known spiritual leaders who have chosen to align themselves with both candidates and presidents.
Let's start with the grand-daddy of them all: Reverend Billy Graham
Reverend Graham has of course known more presidents than any spiritual leader dead or alive. He is often a fixture at any function where a president has to look more Christian than he actually is. Well, it appears that ol' Billy had a friend in "tricky Dick" when it came to Jews in the media.
Now let's cut to a classic. The following video has not only Jerry Falwell, the founder of the "Moral Majority" a political movement credited with giving Ronald Reagan two-thirds of the white, evangelical Christian vote in 1980; but also former presidential candidate and Christian media mogul, Pat Robertson. Both "southern gentlemen" have seen the inside of the White House multiple times and are part of the Republican ring-kissing tour all candidates must endure (now minus Falwell since the good lord saw fit to punch the fat ass' ticket). Please ruminate on the last words Robertson says in this clip, "well, I totally concur".
Keeping in step with the past, Senator John McCain racked up a sizable posse of pudgy white preachers who got nothing but love for everyone as long as they're not gay, catholic, oh hell, as long as they're only white, straight and evangelical Christian.
The most recent addition was Reverend John Hagee of the 17,000 member Grace Church of San Antonio (11,000 more members than Reverend Wright's church) and enjoys a global reach of around 99 million homes with his radio and television programs. Reverend John has fired off some grand statements not really preaching tolerance. Here are some of the highlights:
"[Catholicism is] A Godless theology of hate that no one dared try to stop for a thousand years produced a harvest of hate."
source: quote from Standing with Israel by David Brog
"All hurricanes are acts of God, because God controls the heavens. I believe that New Orleans had a level of sin that was offensive to God, and they are -- were recipients of the judgment of God for that. The newspaper carried the story in our local area that was not carried nationally that there was to be a homosexual parade there on the Monday that the Katrina came. And the promise of that parade was that it was going to reach a level of sexuality never demonstrated before in any of the other Gay Pride parades. So I believe that the judgment of God is a very real thing."
source: September 18, 2006, NPR's Fresh Air
On former Secretary or Education, recovering compulsive gambler and self-proclaimed moral watchdog for America, Bill Bennet's radio show, McCain said he "repudiates" the Catholicism crack and believes Reverend Hagee when he says his words were "taken out of context". Well good, thanks for clearing that up so nicely Senator.
Now let it be said that Jeremiah Wright does not harbor and preach some poisonous ideas. But as Senator Obama pointed out in his speech we all should put down the stones we intend to cast because he is a type of person we all know or in fact could be related to. And instead of slinking, obfuscating and finessing the episode, Obama had the balls, temerity and intellect to stand before the country and condemn his pastor on live television and eloquently explain what so many white presidents, candidates, senators, congressmen and city councilmen never have had to explain or for that matter, endure.
Thursday, March 20, 2008
First off, I would like to thank all of the regular readers of this blog for not calling bullshit on us for promoting the fact that this blog is updated daily. We know it's not true and you know it's not true; so apparently we've come to some kind of arrangement that is similar to the "only gay once in college while drunk so let's not talk about it" kind of arrangement good friends make. With that said, let's get on with the mea culpa and related explanation.
Right before the editorial offices of Cerebral Itch went black, things were progressing rather nicely. We had a full staff of writers who could stay sober during the day or at least fake it really well when the investors dropped by. We all knew we were cruising into a robust period of renewed political jousting and at the very least, American Idol was gearing up. Heady times ahead indeed; but then…the mold appeared.
Right over Veejay's head for about three days prior, a bubble in the ceiling grew until the moron decided to lance the two-foot wide office boil with an x-acto knife resulting in drenching himself with three gallons of putrid stagnant water. We all laughed our asses off until we saw mushrooms through the gash in the drywall. You read that right, mushrooms. An actual fungal colony had taken residence in our office above the head of the one employee that it could probably take in a debate. Those of us that had seen enough 20/20 and Dateline scare pieces on the deadly black mold grabbed our car keys and got the hell out of there never to return until today. Apparently the air testing is now complete and the offices got a clean bill of health. The insurance covered it even though an investigation found that is was all the result of an abandoned mini marijuana hydroponics lab left by the previous tenants. Our lawyer's frequent recommendation to the authorities to ignore the fact that there were no previous tenants before us was successful and the check got pushed through.
So what did we all do for the three weeks you saw nothing from us? Well, Veejay healed up nicely from the abrasions he received during his mold killing Silkwood shower the health department gave him (supposedly nursed back to health by none other than Ugly Betty herself, America Ferrera – see our debate coverage). Silvio the intern just disappeared, but pulled into the office parking lot this morning driving a Mercedes CLS 550 coupe with nothing but a smile on his face. We’ll be getting to the bottom of that one later. Our HR person who has contacts over at Monster.com was notified that seven of our people posted fresh resumes and also the local Kinko's informant we keep plied with donuts and Wii games let us know he ran off resumes for three of our employees. Since we had nothing really to do, we rented office space, whipped up a cool ambiguous website with a lot of Flash animation and marketing buzzwords for a bogus competitive start-up and then called them all for an interview. We hired a stand-up comic we know who’ll open for a flower blooming and had him play the hiring manager. Each interview consisted of wonderfully inappropriate sexual questions and promises of ridiculous salaries leading each one of the ship-jumping rats to take the bait. Our saucy
So in closing, no one is more sorry about our absence than us. We cry nightly that we were not able to cover the Spitzer hooker scandal. Because seriously, if you're going to hold a hotness contest with high-profile Jezebels, Ashley Alexandra Dupre wins by a landslide when you stack her up against the likes of Monica Lewinsky and Jessica Hahn. We sob in the shower when we think about the missed opportunities to comment on hideous old feminist relics spewing bile in a crass attempt at frank political discourse when in fact it's deep-seated resentment finally bubbling up from the 80's for being used as a novelty running mate in a failed presidential bid. But you know what gets us through the night (besides the obvious)? It's that tomorrow, Barack will still be black and scary to a frighteningly large segment of the population and Hillary will still be a crazed selfish shrew fixated on the presidency like a crow in a parking lot with a shiny piece of glass. McCain also just gets older and less able to deal with the nuances of let's say, oh, reality. Also the fact that the US economy will continue to cruise into a sort of 1970's Argentinian wheelbarrows full of cash like scenario gives us all hope we will have plenty of stuff to write about in the future as we attempt to make up with our readers.
Client Number Eleven