Incoming Chickenhead Transmission:
Yes my children it has been quite a long time since my last contact with you; this is because It Is The Spring and There Is Time For…everything going fucking wrong.
You see, given that this last winter was Nature telling Al Gore to sit the fuck down and shut the fuck up, the Chicken Farm has had to deal with failing sump pumps in the middle of February, a fucking April ice storm that knocked out the power for four days straight, and the latest bit of fun, a septic system that decided it was time to roll over and die.
Now anyone who lives in the sticks will tell you that when the shitter’s full, you do like Cousin Eddy and pump it into the nearest sewer. But not in this case, the problem was a bit more fundamental and that starts the dollar signs floating around Chickenhead’s head just like Tom getting hit over the head by Jerry. Feels about as good, too.
But you see, shit happens. And sometimes you actually do need to call in an expert to fix it. Or so you’d think.
No, I’m not going to sit here and rant about Drone Lord Obama, Wall Street, the banks, the 1% or mega-corporations. No, this rant has a much smaller target: That’s right you motherfucking “small” businesses, this note’s for you.
WHY IS IT that everytime I have to reach out of my area of expertise and call someone to fix something…anything, even a leaking pipe…I get hit with a $500 or larger bill?
I’m fucking serious here. It seems like every small business I talk to is TRYING TO RIP ME OFF. EVERY FUCKING ONE OF THEM. Even the sump pump guy charged me over $500 (a mistake I won’t make again…it’s basic-level plumbing, not rocket science). WHAT, WAS THE FUCKING PUMP MADE OUT OF GOLD?
But no, the septic assholes take the fucking shit-cake. Not content to try and fuck me for a $600 bill that included a $300 “technical evaluation” (which basically had some loser walk around and say “uhhhh ohhhhh…this is not gooood…”), their recommendation to me was basically to try to get the all-time high score of anal probings of my wallet.
These assholes, without having lifted so much as a septic lid, tried to tell me that my whole system had packed it in, and that I needed to install a $30-fucking-god-damned-thousand dollar septic system to replace it, complete with some kind of fucking “water treatment plant” that, in their words would require “yearly service” and needs to be continuously powered?
Come again negro?
Now, maybe this kind of horse shit works on city dwellers, but I get too pissed off too easily to just take some motherfucker’s word for it…especially if that motherfucker didn’t do a god damned thing to actually LOOK at my system.
So going on a recommendation from someone I actually found someone who knew what the fuck he was talking about. A real grown-up with real experience. In 15 minutes he figured out what was wrong AND located the septic bed using just a metal pole…the other assholes wanted to charge me ANOTHER $900 to dig up my fucking front yard to find the bed.
But that’s not the point. The point is, WHY IS EVERY SMALL BUSINESS TRYING TO RIP ME THE FUCK OFF AT EVERY TURN? You know, I know the fucking economy is bad. I know that the politician assholes are more interested in bombing brown people and funnelling billions to Shitreal than actually caring about the citizens of this country. BUT DON’T TAKE IT OUT ON MY FUCKING WALLET YOU FUCKING ASSHOLES.
Fester said it best…why the fuck do we all have to be experts on EVERYTHING just to keep from getting ripped off? Seriously…I hope the whole economy falls taking EVERYTHING with it, small businesses included.
Fuck off and die. End fucking transmission.