Promises, promises
Today's installment is about commitments we make to others, and how unimportant they appear to be to some people and entities.
First, let's all give a round of applause to British Petroleum, the fine folks who brand their overpriced gasoline as BP and who have been promising us for over three months that they're doing EVERYTHING they can to stop the uncontrolled flow of oil into the Gulf of Mexico off the Louisiana coast. A lot of blathering, a lot of bumbling, a lot of excuses and one CEO later, it looks like that might finally be happening. And to make matters worse, what we've been hearing for some time is that BP is trying to coerce Gulf are residents (particularly those who operate businesses adversely affected by all of this mess) into accepting lump-sum settlements with the added provision that the recipients of these settlements WILL NOT SUE.
Don't sign them, people, I don't care how much is offered. We just don't know what the long-term effect of this disaster will be, so signing away your rights for any future compensation probably isn't a good idea.
Now let's turn to the former First Daughter of Alaska, Bristol Palin, and her would-be husband and baby daddy Levi Johnston. They're a committed couple. Wait, no they're not, Levi is a selfish jerk who should surrender his parental rights. Then they get back together, and now comes news that Bristol says it's over (again) and that she was "played." Ironic that this comes right on the heels of mom Sarah's pronouncement that the female governor of Arizona is, shall we say, better genitally equipped than the male President of the United States. Anyone else a little uncomfortable with the entire Palin clan? In the Andy Warhol parlance, I'll be glad when the family's fifteen minutes of fame are up.
And now we come to the man who is so indecisive that he should own a Waffle House franchise, Brett Favre. Somehow I remember writing something like this about a year ago, but here we are again, listening to all of sports radio and television breathlessly await his retirement decision. Just like the last three year. Give us a break, Brett. Play or don't, but make up your mind. Oh, and if this is all designed to have people make you feel wanted, you're rather pathetic, despite all of your career accomplishments.
All of that said, I promise that I'm finished. And I am.
First, let's all give a round of applause to British Petroleum, the fine folks who brand their overpriced gasoline as BP and who have been promising us for over three months that they're doing EVERYTHING they can to stop the uncontrolled flow of oil into the Gulf of Mexico off the Louisiana coast. A lot of blathering, a lot of bumbling, a lot of excuses and one CEO later, it looks like that might finally be happening. And to make matters worse, what we've been hearing for some time is that BP is trying to coerce Gulf are residents (particularly those who operate businesses adversely affected by all of this mess) into accepting lump-sum settlements with the added provision that the recipients of these settlements WILL NOT SUE.
Don't sign them, people, I don't care how much is offered. We just don't know what the long-term effect of this disaster will be, so signing away your rights for any future compensation probably isn't a good idea.
Now let's turn to the former First Daughter of Alaska, Bristol Palin, and her would-be husband and baby daddy Levi Johnston. They're a committed couple. Wait, no they're not, Levi is a selfish jerk who should surrender his parental rights. Then they get back together, and now comes news that Bristol says it's over (again) and that she was "played." Ironic that this comes right on the heels of mom Sarah's pronouncement that the female governor of Arizona is, shall we say, better genitally equipped than the male President of the United States. Anyone else a little uncomfortable with the entire Palin clan? In the Andy Warhol parlance, I'll be glad when the family's fifteen minutes of fame are up.
And now we come to the man who is so indecisive that he should own a Waffle House franchise, Brett Favre. Somehow I remember writing something like this about a year ago, but here we are again, listening to all of sports radio and television breathlessly await his retirement decision. Just like the last three year. Give us a break, Brett. Play or don't, but make up your mind. Oh, and if this is all designed to have people make you feel wanted, you're rather pathetic, despite all of your career accomplishments.
All of that said, I promise that I'm finished. And I am.
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