Peter Krupa

Maybe I’m too young so I’ll just never understand, but who the fuck would pay $2,000 to see Barbara Streisand? I wouldn’t pay that much to see Jesus himself. What do you get for this $2,000? An experience? A memory? A blowjob? Seriously, you could buy like 2,000 junior bacon cheeseburgers with that cash. Or a used Japanese car.

Even when I’m old enough and rich enough that people call me “eccentric” instead of “crazy,” I still won’t pay $2,000 to see a damn concert, I don’t care how much of a fun-loving, come-back, gala extravaganza it is. Screw that, I’m buying a hover car, because I figure we’ll have those by the time I’m old.

I thought I had it bad when my brand new Sony digital camera froze three days into my Caribbean vacation. At the time I was damning the entire Japanese race, and cursing with surprising fluency and creativity in both English and Spanish.

But it could have been worse. I could have bought a laptop that SET MY GENITALS ON FIRE!

I hope Sony burns in Hell, and that Satan inflicts ironic justice by placing burning laptop batteries on Sony’s stupid, stupid face, then grabbing Sony’s camera in the middle of his stay in Hell and crushing it with a dump truck while screaming, “Yeah, how do you like it! Try and take pictures now! Bitch!”

From now on, I’m buying Chinese.