For the week of 4 November, 2019
This week’s business report is drab, colorless, arid, stodgy, wearisome, humdrum, and belongs in a baker’s left shoe.
This week’s business report won’t lighten anything but your wallet, won’t brighten anything but your watchamacallit, and won’t tighten your budget as much as it will your heart strings.
This week’s business report will eat up your dusty dreams and spit them back at you while you’re still mopping up the tears you shed during the open-casket viewing of last week’s business report.
That’s right, folks, you heard it here first. Businesses are going to keep on doing what businesses do. They’ll look you right in the pupils and pull tulips out of their mouths while a little man in greasy overalls rummages through your wallet and takes all your peppermints.
Treat each business like a hot Chernobyl potato that’s about to burst in nuclear fashion because the bubble is growing and your investment portfolio is going to take a dive into the waters of fuscous forlornness and soggy mopes, waters which are significantly more frigid than those of Lake Titicaca, we assure you.
Test your home fire alarm. Assure it is amply supplied with battery power. Pack a 72-hour kit that includes neon liquids, dry starches, and equally dry underwear that could reasonably be consumed if left to soak in the aforementioned neon liquids for ~72 hours, give or take a few per personal preference. Read Stephen Covey’s 7 Habits of Highly Effective People. Learn a Shamanic prayer. File your toenails down until they resemble daggers. This is your right as a tetrapod and it is good to mold your body into a killing machine. This is recommended by most doctors. You’re going to need every advantage you can get, because the world is going up in flames and the only recourse will be your own cunning and your dagger-like toenails.
Treat your mother right. She’s not perfect, but she didn’t raise you in a swamp and you didn’t get chronic pharyngitis and at some point in your childhood you likely ate macaroni and cheese with sliced up bits of hot dog, which is all you can ask for. Her idiosyncrasies probably only irritate you because you can’t help but acknowledge that you’ve adopted some of them yourself, in the same way that she adopted you from a repulsive swamp creature named Grog, which rhymes with “bog”, which is like unto a swamp, but is not a swamp due to its higher peat content and general inability to support woody plants and trees.
That’s this week’s business report. Please don’t forget how pleasureless, numbing, and downright drab it was, and please don’t forget to check in next week for even more drab business.