Well Shit, I'm Old

It just hit me the other day that I am old. I don't need a wheelchair or a colostomy bag, I don't need to watch my diet and get plenty of walks, but I am officially old.

To put it in another way, the world is progressing past me. It's the beginning of being left behind before the inevitable end where you are nothing but a memory. It occurred to me when I was looking for music on the radio. I don't want "Today's #1 Hits" or "Calgary's Hottest New Music" because all that shit is terrible! I look for 80's rock, or usually some sort of grab-bag like Jack has music from the 90s as well. A few days ago at work I switched it to classical because I didn't want to listen to Chad Kruger doing a remix with Nelly featuring R. Kelly and Lil' Wayne about growing up in a small town a missing girls who fuck like panthers but had emotional problems that he overlooked because he has financial wealth. That, ladies and gentlemen, pretty much sums up what new music is and why I hate it.

So, that's it. My days of being a youth are numbered. No more will my generation be defined as a culture of the current music. We are those who stand fast at the edge of the millennium and look out at the musical wasteland. Beneath the shrill cries of underaged girls we breathe;

"Kids these days..."

Marketing Mishap

I think the guys at Koodo needed to stick to one marketing plan. That, or they have a very precise list of questions they feel the need to answer at the end of their radio commercials.
Perhaps it went a little something like this:

Customer: So, gentlefolk of telecommunications, why should I purchase your particular cellular telephone service?
Koodo: Say "no" to big billification!
Customer: Ah! What with the clever made up words and all. I understand. Thank you, obnoxious teenage girl brigade. But since I am in the market to acquire telecommuncative means I have no way to contact your services. Is there an alternate course?
Koodo: koodomobile.com
Customer: The internets! The "dot com" tipped me off. Though there still remains one fundamental question: By what moniker should I herald thee so that others shall follow in my path?
Koodo: Koooooooooooooodo.
Customer: Thank you Mrs. Motorola Man. Tell him I said, "Hello, Moto," too, and a good kooooooooodo to you as well.

Seriously, that's way too many catchphrases crammed into the end of one commercial. And when I say one commercial, I mean all of their commercials. Maybe I just need to stop listening to the radios, but I fucking hate those commercials.