Tag Archives: Costco

Costco Has 12 Days of Twosies for Your Favorite Candidate!

There’s only a week before Christmas, and you still don’t know what to get for the Republican Presidential candidate on your list? Don’t worry! Costco is here to help. These candidates have been working hard most of this year, excreting their feculence all over America. Isn’t it time to thank them for dropping deuces on immigrants, Muslims, climate scientists, gays, Mexicans, common sense, good taste, and decency? We think so, too! Lucky for you and them Costco is number one for number twos!  Here are just a few suggestions to keep their back doors swinging all the way to the election:

Ted Cruz: 144 Preparation H Medicated Wipes
Look at that pinched face and that forced smile. The guy is clearly uncomfortable. Is it the cognitive dissonance of being a Princeton and Harvard alumnus and former Supreme Court clerk running as an everyman populist?  Or is it being an being an anti-immigration Cuban-Canadian? Maybe. Or maybe he’s just got the fire down below. Preparation H is the trusted name in taking care of flaming assholes. But careful! If Senator Cruz uses all 144 at once, he might disappear!

Marco Rubio: (2) 2 oz tubes of Preparation H Ointment
Rubio and Cruz are two sides of the same coin: young, inexperienced Latino senators from big southern states. Until Cruz finishes ripping Rubio a new one, his old one has got to be plenty sore: pushing out a steaming pile like a massive tax cut for the wealthy and finding $4 trillion to pay for it has got to burn. Get him the two pack – one for now, and one for when he has to explain why he thought George W. Bush did a “fantastic” job.

Ben Carson: 400 Kirkland Signature Brand Anti-Diarrheal Caplets
Most people would rethink many of their choices when realizing they needed to buy anti-diarrheals by the crate. But most people are not Ben Carson. The good doctor is squirting stools faster than his aides can wipe them up! Is China fighting in Syria? Were the Egyptian pyramids for storing grain? Did he actually stab a guy?  Ugh. This is getting disgusting. Act now to get this guy some anti-diarrheals before he smears his drawers like he smeared the reputation of neurosurgeons.

Jeb Bush: 200 Dulcolax Laxative Tablets
Hey! Remember Jeb?! We’re shocked to find out he’s still running. The electorate just isn’t ready for a gentle, predictable candidate this time around. But Bush is definitely ready for the gentle, predictable relief of Dulcolax – helping him drop the twin loads of his brother’s execrable Presidential record and his own failed education reform.  Jeb’s going to a need all the “comfort coating” he can get when the job he thought was his slips through his fingers all warm and wet like when your niece blew out her Huggies.


Chris Chrstie: Economy Pack of Preparation H Suppositories
Where would gift givers be without Costco’s incredible variety of Preparation H products? Finding the perfect one for the governor of New Jersey is tricky. Christie has been talking from his ass for so long, it’s gotta be sore: he was for gun control, Common Core, and immigration reform until he decided he wasn’t. Show the big guy you care with this supersized pack of suppositories: he can stuff ’em up there side by side.


Carly Fiorina: Trunature Digestive Probiotic.
Women don’t get constipated or irregular. They get “bloated” and need help restoring “digestive balance.” This is just the kind of euphemistic language perfect for Fiorina, who has turned her destruction of Hewlett Packard and disaster at Lucent into “qualifications” to be CEO of the US. Her “record of success” includes firing 30,000 people and the lack of a real job since 2005. Even through that weirdly botoxed face, you can see she’s straining under the weight of those giant BMs.


Donald Trump: Fleet Enema Six Pack
We had a great summer with Trump: every shart about Mexicans, women, and POWs was reported on like the embarrassing noise it was. It’s winter now, and The Donald is full on dropping ’em down his pant leg. There’s plenty more dookies in him – and this six pack is just the thing to get it all out at once.  Fleet enemas have a patented “comfort tip” – but that’s only for losers and cowards. Just wedge ’em in there, and let it all wash out at once. One big, stinky flow of fascism, racism, and misogyny. Just the kind of shit that should help keep his poll numbers strong. C











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Delicious Mediterranean Chickpea and Bullshit Dip

Tucked in amongst the vast shelves of dietary supplements, paper goods, and firearm fetish books written by victims of gun violence, Costco still sells food. In the last couple of years, they’ve added more refrigerated space, presumably because of major advances in sausage and dip technology. I made the mistake a while ago of mocking their wide selection of  hummus on Facebook, in particular the kind that was $2.99/pound and packaged in little plastic single-serve cups. Little plastic single serve cups topped with plastic seals, packed onto a cardboard tray, and then wrapped in more plastic. Take that, Earth!

Sadly, the environmental movement has long since given up hope in the face of the “we like giant trucks and a/c set at 62″ movement. Even so, this seemed excessively wasteful. And more than that, expensive. For reasons I can’t fathom, Costco carries three varieties of hummus, ranging from $1.99 to $2.99 a pound. I suppose that a certain kind of person feels entitled only to buy only the “good stuff”, even when said stuff is mostly chickpeas and tahini. Those people must’ve gotten lost on the way to Whole Foods, “where people who will believe anything shop(tm)!”

Given that the environmental argument seemed lost, I thought I could make an argument on cost. Surely, you could make hummus at a fraction of the cost that you could buy it at Costco. I decided to do the research. I went to the store and priced out the simplest recipe for hummus that I know, which is:

2 cans of chickpeas
2/3 cup tahini
3 cloves of garlic
1/4 cup olive oil
1/4 cup lemon juice

Throw everything in a blender, food processor, or place in rip-stop bag and run over with rear wheel of Lincoln Navigator a few times. While making sure the a/c is on, of course. Also, if you can put a baby harp seal under the other wheel, more’s the better.

After careful research which required both multiplication AND division, I came to this conclusion: the Costco hummus at $1.99/lb is probably cheaper. I say probably, because once I realized that the chickpeas, tahini and garlic alone were going to run $1.39/lb – never mind the $129 blender I make it in – I gave up. Like I said, there was multiplication and division involved. Even with a marginal savings, I will concede to Costco and Big Hummus (really. Sabra is owned in part by Frito-Lay) that buying it by the bucket in the refrigerated aisle is a lot more convenient. This is particularly true if you don’t happen to keep olive oil, lemon juice, and tahini in the house. I do. But only for intimate purposes.

These results left me conflicted and divided, just like the land from which hummus comes. Was all hope lost, like the two-state solution? Could I somehow mount a comeback, like Hezbollah in Lebanon and have a successful jihad against the mighty Israeli Sabra and it’s American-backed force of Costco/Frito-Lay? Maybe I could just act like the whole thing never existed, like the Palestinians, Israel’s nukes, or Benjamin Netanyahu’s bald spot.

Why cook? For something simple like hummus, one can’t even argue that the homemade is that much better for you. Sure, the tubs o’ hummus have preservatives in them, but that just means they won’t get all of those white fuzzy patches on them after sitting in the fridge for a week.

The best argument I could come up with was that cooking was good, even it wasn’t necessarily better for you or cheaper. I was a better person because I cooked for my kids. Yeah, take that parents who spend money on their children! I grind up things in a blender for them! That’s love. I’m teaching them something about self-reliance, hard work, and always making sure that part of the blender lid isn’t in the carafe when you turn it on. And that’s how my kids got to enjoy a delightful applesauce with plastic chips one day last fall. Stupid blender.

Imagine my dismay when I realized that the Costco hummus can indeed counter my self righteous virtue. Though hummus is, again, mostly chickpeas and tahini, the vats carried all sorts of bold-faced text proclaiming that the puree was any number of the following:

-Gluten free
-Cholesterol free
-GMO free
-Dairy free

That’s a whole lot of freedom. And freedom isn’t free — it costs $1.99/lb. Sure, factually speaking we’re talking about a food that isn’t made from wheat, or animal fat, or crops that are subject to genetic modification, or milk. But if George Bush taught us anything in the War on Terror, freedom outweighs facts every single day. How could my homemade hummus in a ceramic bowl possibly counter freedom served with a side of bullshit?

And then it hit me like a homemade rocket attack for which I prepared a disproportionate response. I made my own food labels. Every time I open the fridge, I can look at my hummus and know that I am doing the right thing. I am both righteous and virtuous. Even better, people who eat the food I’ve made will know of the abundant amounts of righteousness and virtuousity of which I am possessed.

You can download the handy food labels I made yourself. They’re sized to print on standard Avery address labels, and you can put them on virtually anything that might not presently reveal your high moral standing to the world.

In designing these labels, I didn’t want to resort to complicated words and all the reading and knowing stuff that they require. I instead used powerful, powerful symbols of goodness known to all Americans. Big hummus has got gluten free? GMO-free? That’s nothing.  I’ve got the combined moral weight of Gandhi, Mother Theresa, Spider-Man, “Sully” Sullenberger, Martin Luther King, Jesus, Mr. Rogers,Anne Frank, Maya Angelou, Yoda, the Dalai Lama, and Gandalf the Grey.

Dip a an organic cholesterol-free pita chip in that and suck it, Costco.

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It’s Not You, It’s WALL-E

I’m always honored when a single female friend of mine asks if I know any single men. I deeply appreciate that my many female friends trust and like me enough to think that I could match them up. But I can’t. Please stop asking. I don’t know if  you’re seeking companionship or if you just miss having socks all over the floor and a stack of magazines in the bathroom. It’s not you, it’s me. I haven’t said that in years, but unlike last time when it actually meant “you smell like cat urine, your tattoos look like Rorshach tests, and you mispronounce February” this time it’s actually true.

Well, it’s not me per se. It’s who I am. I’ve been married for ten years,  which means most of my male friends are married, too.  Single men don’t want to be around me. I’ve been emasculated by having to go to Target to buy nursing pads. That is probably the last activity you will ever see featured in a beer commercial. I would have thought that it was a guy having a physically intimate relationship with a horse, but Budweiser’s Superbowl ad proved me wrong.

What’s left of the single men I know are a little…ehhh. Do you really want that last piece of chicken from the chafing dish? No one wants that piece. It’s been sneezed on by extreme emotional stunting and picked at by crazy tongs. Better to wait until they bring out a new tray when the current wives and girlfriends start popping their clogs in 20 or 30 years. Is that a terrible thing to say? You’re the one who wanted me to set you up.

By my age, men on their own are like aging stars – big balls of gas that are about to go supernova in a bright flash of batshit before collapsing on themselves into black hole of regret.  Women admirably seem to organize themselves into book clubs, or workout groups, or whatever you call those things where one woman is selling lingerie or kitchen crap or candles to all her friends and they have to keep having parties to sell more until there’s one huge group of women standing in their underwear in a candle-lit kitchen and then there’s a pillow fight…never mind. The point is, these are social activities. Sexy, sexy, social activities. Men don’t seem to do these things. Our scanty underpants don’t come from parties, they come from being washed 10,000 times since we bought them at Dollar General in 1997.

In one way or another, men left to their own devices are like WALL-E. We just stack and collect garbage all day in the guise of our “hobbies.” Sometimes this garbage is physical. Lionel trains, possibly the worst toy for anyone under 25, come to mind.  And, who do you think is buying a $150 “stunningly life-like”Green Arrow statue?  What use does this stuff serve? It’s just stuff to collect and organize and obsess over.

Some of the garbage is abstract, but the object of  pointless obsession nonetheless. I went out to dinner once with a guy who spent an hour talking about oak casked malbecs and how the joke of the movie Sideways had something to do with pinot noir actually being a subvarietal of some other kind of something something. I have no idea. Because it’s just stacks and stacks of garbage this guy piled up in his mind. I enjoyed Sideways a lot, and I know only two things about wine: (1)it should be 6.99 and (2)it should say Kirkland on it.

I listened to sports talk radio once, for 10 minutes in 2005 on the eve of the White Sox going to the World Series. All I remember is this: some guy called in to compare the pitching lineup of the 1959 Sox to the 2005 team. This poor bastard was all alone on planet White Sox collecting garbage about  Billy Pierce and Early Wynn on the chance that someday he could get on the radio to compare them, to, uh, that chubby guy who was a really good closer in 2005.

What happens in WALL-E? The little guy robot is running around in a world only he inhabits stacking garbage until one day a sleek, tough female shows up. She shows a little interest, and then he totally invades her personal space when she falls asleep. He later stalks her all the way back to her home, where he screws everything up and eventually costs her her job. Also, there’s some environmental message. But the point is this: Eva was once a super awesome high powered girl robot, and now she’s stuck on a planet full of garbage with a male robot that pieces keep falling off of. Is this what you want?

There’s a point between the mid-20s and the mid-30s where I think women can stop men from getting too involved in their own interests and thinking about something other than themselves (or Early Wynn). Biologically speaking, it’s probably the point at which the testosterone is still overpowering the OCD. After that, it’s an inverse bell curve in terms of interest in women, picking up again maybe in the mid-60s when my peers’ current obsession with cured pork will inevitably lead to the need for a partner to help change the colostomy bag.

You’re really better off on your own.

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Costco and the End of the World

Costco is now selling emergency food. This is apparently the top of the line, a four person one year supply – or just over 30,000 servings of such delicious essentials as cans and cans of freeze dried potato “chunks.” When I first came across these products in one of the store’s monthly flyers, I thought “what kind of wackadoo buys this?” Thanks to the New York Times, I now know. They’re called preppers because the old term, hoarding paranoiacs, wasn’t snappy enough. With that out of the way, I have some other pressing questions.

If you are into this sort of thing, how do you decide what to buy? It seems risky to settle for 491 servings of pinto beans when you can get 621 servings of lentils for a measly two bucks more. I wonder if somewhere there’s a prepper convinced that his 39 pounds of beans in a six gallon bucket in his basement is normal, but that anyone would buy 1,384 servings of “ultimate fruit” is just overdoing it. Incidentally, I think this is the psychology behind the Hummer H2.

This stuff has a 25 year shelf life. If I was a hoarding paranoi – prepper, I would buy as much as possible. How do you know that there won’t be a catastrophic power failure in 2013, a zombie attack a few years later, and the total collapse of the economy as a result of Obamacare in 2020? Are you going to say that something that outrageous can’t happen? Thinking like that would make you a lousy prepper.

In the post apocalyptic hellscape, I probably won’t find myself worry too much about my dog.    Mostly because I’m sure he’ll never make it. The minute a zombie comes up the stoop, he’s going to be right there barking his stupid head off at the undead as if they were delivering my Mongolian chicken. Some people have invested more in obedience training than I have, and they’re lucky that Costco also sells emergency dog food. Leaving aside the probable infinite shelf life of plain old non-emergency kibble, it does make me wonder why in an emergency the dog couldn’t eat scraps of the human food (or scraps of humans themselves, since there’s sure to be some who failed to make thoughtful purchases from Costco before Obamacare kicked in) or simply be left to hunt and scavenge on its own. Somewhere under the sweater and snow booties and LED collar, it is still an animal with base instincts, sharp teeth, and a remarkable ability at self preservation. If you are dumb enough to have only bought a 1 year supply of food when the mother ship lands, you should at least have the decency to roll yourself in salt in your last minutes. That should keep the dog going for awhile.

Among the most reviewed of these items is for 267 servings of “deluxe meat.” No one wants to be discovered cowering in their basement by the Antichrist and not be able to offer him delicious (and deluxe!) “fajitas, casseroles, soups, pot pies, sloppy joes (or) tacos.” One of the reviews notes that the freeze dried sausage doesn’t really taste like sausage, as it isn’t greasy enough. Oh, to be a gourmand in the End Times! The reviewer goes on to say that the product is still relatively agreeable, and will be added to his pantry rotation. This means that someone out there is actually eating this stuff. Is that scarier than knowing that folks have been conned into spending hundreds or thousands of dollars on emergency food without ever, you know, planning to eat it?

I think I’m going to go hide under the bed. Without the dog.

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