Guess whose back, back again. Hirp is back, tell a friend. I'd like to start off by thanking Senator Orrin Hatch for pushing just the right moment to make me write again. See, since being laid off I decided against blogging. I was afraid to write about how much being unemployed sucked, would only make being unemployed suck even more. It's stressful enough, and this is one thing I have total control of. Then tonight the better half and I were watching the "Rachel Maddow Show" and she showed a clip of your statement that chased me back to the keyboard.
You've gone on the record, saying you believe those receiving unemployment benefits should be drug tested. Okay, that's bullshit, but I'll respond to that in a minute. Then you took it a step further, and for one of your reasons for blocking an extension of benefits you said this, "will just buy drugs with it anyway."
Well that got my attention, and after some ridiculous Facebook updates, I decided I had more to say. Since you haven't been in my shoes, the last 7 months, where I've sent out hundreds upon hundreds of resumes. Which has resulted in no less than 5 interviews and just a handful more call backs. And every time I'm online looking for a job, I see a few dozen iPhone ads, which just serve as a reminder to why I'm unemployed. Because the former Executive Douche where I worked, passed on the iPhone, cost the company billions and when he was shown the exit door, he had a nice $55 million check to cushion his fall. Hell, I should be doing drugs at this point.
Only I never have. I haven't even smoked a cigarette in my life, let alone a joint or a line of coke. But because I was unlucky enough to be laid off in a shitty economy, you just assume I'm using that money to buy drugs. You must be talking about bills, cause they sure keep getting higher, not me. So you want me drug tested, fine, let's do it. Not because I'm unemployed, but because I cash checks that the government signs. Based on that logic, I'm good to go. But you and your staffers better be being in a cup too. Till then, shut the hell up.
I'm not asking you to shut up because you're a complete jackass, I can only think that helps make the Democrats look better. I'm asking you to shut up, because what if just one potential employer hears you're wild accusation, and believes it. Now, not only am I competeing with thousands of others who were just laid off, but its assumed that I'm a drug addict too. Because I really need that.
Which reminds me of this gem from Good Will Hunting:
"Why shouldn't I work for the N.S.A.? That's a tough one, but I'll take a shot. Say I'm working at N.S.A. Somebody puts a code on my desk, something nobody else can break. Maybe I take a shot at it and maybe I break it. And I'm real happy with myself, 'cause I did my job well. But maybe that code was the location of some rebel army in North Africa or the Middle East. Once they have that location, they bomb the village where the rebels were hiding and fifteen hundred people I never met, never had no problem with, get killed. Now the politicians are sayin', "Oh, send in the Marines to secure the area" 'cause they don't give a shit. It won't be their kid over there, gettin' shot. Just like it wasn't them when their number got called, 'cause they were pullin' a tour in the National Guard. It'll be some kid from Southie takin' shrapnel in the ass. And he comes back to find that the plant he used to work at got exported to the country he just got back from. And the guy who put the shrapnel in his ass got his old job, 'cause he'll work for fifteen cents a day and no bathroom breaks. Meanwhile, he realizes the only reason he was over there in the first place was so we could install a government that would sell us oil at a good price. And, of course, the oil companies used the skirmish over there to scare up domestic oil prices. A cute little ancillary benefit for them, but it ain't helping my buddy at two-fifty a gallon. And they're takin' their sweet time bringin' the oil back, of course, and maybe even took the liberty of hiring an alcoholic skipper who likes to drink martinis and fuckin' play slalom with the icebergs, and it ain't too long 'til he hits one, spills the oil and kills all the sea life in the North Atlantic. So now my buddy's out of work and he can't afford to drive, so he's got to walk to the fuckin' job interviews, which sucks 'cause the shrapnel in his ass is givin' him chronic hemorrhoids. And meanwhile he's starvin', 'cause every time he tries to get a bite to eat, the only blue plate special they're servin' is North Atlantic scrod with Quaker State. So what did I think? I'm holdin' out for somethin' better. I figure fuck it, while I'm at it why not just shoot my buddy, take his job, give it to his sworn enemy, hike up gas prices, bomb a village, club a baby seal, hit the hash pipe and join the National Guard? I could be elected president."
Orrin Hatch, you're the shrapnel in my ass.
