I really did start a new job this week that may or may not in some way be related to diapers, so time has been tight.  Yes, I know I have been posting regularly on On Deaf Ears, but those require a lot less thought and creativity.  If you like music, go over there and read some of that crap.  As for humor, you’ll just have to wait.  Sorry.

I promise I’ll try to get a new post up soon.  I’m know I’m lazy, but this is ridiculous!

       Sorry for the long break between posts, but I have been extremely busy lately.  I am in the process of transitioning to a new job.  As you may remember, my old job at Colonel Al’s Old Time Cloth Diaper Emporium™ was not a great fit for me, as I had dreams and aspirations of a greater and more meaningful existence.  Well, the Chinese pop music trend did not make nearly as much of a splash as I had originally hoped, and after months of trying to break into the music biz, I was forced to sell all of my young Chinese singers into sexual slavery to recoup my losses.  I still hear from them by mail every now and then.  They like to fill me in on how their lives are going.  The letters are sparse, though.  There’s only so much time for letter writing between all of the gangbangs.

       After the failure of my foray into the world of pop music, I decided for a while to renew my commitment to the diaper industry.  I managed some one on one time with Colonel Alfred P. Moneybags, and I was able to talk my way into a new job at the Department of Research and Development.  There I undertook one of the riskiest but potentially most rewarding projects of my life.  I decided to completely change the way people looked at diapers. 

       Think about it: what do you think of when you see a diaper?  It’s basically just a white blob made for holding feces and urine, right?  How boring is that?  All function, no form.  Well, I aimed to change all of that with my eye for fashion.  I was going to make diapers the trendiest, most visually stunning items a person could own.  That’s right, I thought, diapers aren’t just for babies and senior citizens anymore!  Now everyone is going to be wearing diapers!  Bathrooms will become a thing of the past.  You’ll shit yourself, and you’ll look great doing it!

       I immersed myself in this new venture, practically taking over the whole R & D lab for my own vision, and my project dominated the company’s research budget.  Colonel Al had given me carte blanche over the whole project while allowing me to keep it secret from all but a few of my most trusted underlings.  Day and night we toiled, hoping to create a signature look for our new line, one that would capture the hearts, minds, and asses of the fashion world.  After a few months of back-breaking labor in the labs, I had finally constructed the perfect item, and it was ready to be revealed to the world.

       Colonel Al spared no expense for our product reveal to the public.  He booked several stages in cities around the world during Fashion Week, and our first big show was in Milan, Italy.  We hired the top models, makeup artists, and hair people from around the globe, and the stage was set for this world-changing event.  I could barely contain my excitement as I helped the models preapre for their first trip down the catwalk in my new creation.  Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine that I would be witnessing Kate Moss, Gisele Bundchen, and Naomi Campbell modeling something of my design, but here they all were, and the show was set to begin.

       What followed could only best be described as a disaster of epic proportions.  I had instructed all of the models to binge on food and drink lots of water before the event so that they could properly demonstrate the full functionality of my design.  I had fed them coffee and cigarettes all morning, but since this is pretty much a model’s normal diet anyway, I made sure to spike their coffee with as much liquid laxative as possible.  I didn’t want to leave anything to chance.

       As the music began thumping, that was the cue for the models to take to the catwalk.  I watched from behind the scenes in nervous anticipation as one by one the models made their way down the runway modeling my signature creation:  Colonel Al’s T-Back Thong Diapers.

       An air of silence prevailed in the whole room, and the audience looked on in stunned amazement.  At the end of the runway, I had instructed each model to let loose their natural body functions, and the diapers held up just fine.  The audience screeched in horror as they watched the tiny diapers bulge from the rear as the models filled them with their leavings.  Screams filled the air, and those in the audience who were not fleeing the venue were invariably vomiting in their tiny black handbags. 

       Apparently the fashion world and the general public were not ready for such an innovative design.  Fashion critics the world over lambasted my designs, calling them “disgusting”, “tragic”, and “retarded”.  Colonel Al saw his stock prices plummet, and when all was said and done, the company hemorrhaged approximately thirteen billion dollars in revenue.  I became a pariah in not only the fashion industry, but in the diaper industry as well.  Uncle Al handed me my walking papers and an unceremonious kick in the ass as I was booted out the front door of the Diaper Emporium Corporate Shitquarters®.  When all was said and done, I couldn’t even find work with lesser diaper companies like Luvs or Huggies.

       Thus, I have been forced to seek out a new line of work.  I have created my own company, and I am currently developing yet another revolutionary product, one that will, God willing, revolutionize the farming market for decades to come.  What’s this amazing new product, you ask?  Well, I will tell you, but I ask that you keep it under your hat, for corporate espionage is alive and well, and I wouldn’t want someone to steal my idea.  The tentative title of my new product is PeckerPuckers™, a tampon for chickens.  We’re still in the beginning stages, but everything is looking good so far.  I have my scientists working around the clock to answer some unknowns for me, such as if chickens even have periods to begin with.  They have to with all of those eggs, right?

       As a responsible and productive member of society, I have made several sacrifices in my everyday life in order to provide for myself and those I care about.  It is a social contract that we all sign.  From this contract, we gain employment, from which we gain monetary compensation, from which we pay for the things that sustain us in life, such as food, shelter, clothing, cars, etc.  This contract also forces us to trade our time, our energy, our brainpower, and all the other resources and skills that we have gained in approximately a quarter of a lifetime’s worth of education for the benefits mentioned previously. 

       The average person with a full time job sacrifices approximately 36% of their waking time to work.  This is excluding commuting time.  That’s a lot of time.  Imagine what you could be doing with this time.  Imagine the possibilities of a work free life, a life in which you could spend all of your time pursuing your own interests, devoting that aforementioned time, energy, and brainpower to making the world a better place to live.  When did we as humans decide that we were willing to sacrifice so much of our own identity, our own freedom,  our own lives to this strange notion of economy? 

       My search for answers to this question have led me to the writings of Adam Smith, as well as those of John Locke before him, both brilliant scholars who shaped economic theory as we know it.  Their writings have shed some light on the idea of society and the sacrifices that each man must make in order to protect his property and his very well-being.  Their logic is sound, their arguments nearly irrefutable.

       And yet for some reason, I went to see Iron Man at the movie theater today rather than go to work.  Am I a rebel who is rejecting the notion of the modern economy and the social contracts signed by my ancestors so long ago?  Do I reject the tenets of modern society and the idea of being an integrated part of an orderly and productive nation?

       No, I just really didn’t want to go to fucking work today! 

Fuck it, Dude.  Let’s go blow some shit up!  I mean bowling.  Let’s go bowling.

       As some of you may know, I have long dreamed of breaking into the music business.  Ever since I was a wee babe on my mother’s knee, I’ve been drawn to the pounding beats, bright lights, powerful melodies, and evocative lyrics that only the best modern music can provide.  However, I don’t sing, I don’t write songs, and I don’t play any instruments well enough to mention, so my dream has always seemed pretty far out of reach. 

       Because of these limitations, I had pretty much resigned myself to a life of corporate slavery, whoring out my talents and mighty brainpower to the highest (and by “highest,” I mean ”lowest”) bidder.  My life would be a long, tiring slog from one day to the next, working my ass off every day for the meager pennies that Colonel Alfred P. Moneybags (the owner, founder, and proprietor of the mighty Colonel Al’s Old Time Cloth Diaper Emporium™ chain of worldwide shitrag stores) would see fit to throw my way.   

       I started out as a mere Lowly Cloth Diaper Scrubber®, toiling tirelessly day in and day out, until my time with the company and my hard work led me slowly up the corporate ladder to my current position, The Guy Who Dumps the Blue Liquid onto the Diapers in the Commercials Seen on TV®.  Sure, it’s a pretty glamorous position, the money’s not bad, and I’m technically a member of the infotainment industry, but I have never been able to shake my yearning for a true shot in the music business.

       Well, my friends, I have some news.  Before I disclose the following information, I will ask that you please keep it under your hat for the time being, at least until all of the contracts are signed.  If Colonel Moneybags found out what I’ve been doing behind his back, he would no doubt beat me senseless with a large bag of money (his weapon of choice, which served him well during the Great War).  At that point, I could only hope that his monocle did not shake loose from its familiar and trusted position above his eye.  Then I would really be in for a Shitstorm™ (the mighty Shitstorm™ machine has long been a staple of the old time cloth diaper business, and an item you’re all no doubt familiar with, so no further explanation is necessary). 

       Approximately two weeks ago, the Colonel called a large meeting around his massive boardroom table, which, as we all know, is shaped like a long piece of excrement, and he spoke of the future of the diaper industry.

       “Gentlemen, we have come to a crossroads in the storied and hallowed cloth diaper business.  As you are all aware, our company has experienced massive growth and staggering profit margins in the last several years.  The fear of global warming and the negative effects of non-recyclable materials have brought the disposable diaper business to its knees, making way for the resurgence of the cloth diaper.  I must thank our brilliant marketing team for creating and proliferating the myth of global warming, for that brilliant scheme has propelled our company’s wealth and power into the stratosphere!

       “But, men, we have just begun to feel the effects of a saturated market.  As you know, once you own a cloth diaper, you don’t need to buy more.  Now that everyone in the United States and Europe owns our diapers, who else is going to buy them?  Our relatively recent expansion into the diaper laundering services market as well as our offering of diaper warranty support has helped cushion our profits, but that can only hold off the downturn for so long.  Where do we look next, gentlemen?  What will rescue our mighty firm from the death sentence of market oversaturation?”

       The Colonel paused and surveyed the room, and he was met with little more than nervous coughing and shifty glances.

       “Globalization!” Colonel Moneybags thundered.  “Emerging markets such as China and India are our new bread and butter, gentlemen.  With almost half the world’s population living in these two countries, we have an untapped reservoir of cash that can lead us to huge potential profits.  What do they use for diapers over there now?  Does anyone even know?  Rice?  Curry?  Well, I have personally hand-picked a team to go over there and investigate.  They will be leaving tomorrow, and with them go the hopes and dreams of our company’s future.  Godspeed, young men!  With your help, there will be no Chinese baby or old person without their asses swaddled in our finest shitrags!”

       Well, as you may have already guessed, I was one of the lucky few selected to travel the world to investigate these emerging markets.  Our first stop was in India, where we discovered that they do indeed use curry to diaper their young.  It was quite a confusing sight, but I won’t bore you with the details.  Needless to say, we discovered a demand for our products that was both promising and encouraging.  Next stop: China!  Little did I know, this journey into the Far East would change my life.

       It was on a routine trip to a local diaper manufacturer in Shanghai that I stumbled upon the discovery of a lifetime.  Again, the Colonel’s business sense was staggering, as the Chinese did indeed make all of their diapers from rice paper, a very messy and disturbing option, second only to the use of curry by the people of Calcutta.  The demand for cloth diapers looked stronger than ever, and I relished relaying this news to my superiors. 

       As I walked down a back alley street on the way back to my hotel, I heard a sound, not unlike a chorus of angels, emanating from a nearby grocery market.  It was music, and what heavenly and divine music it was!  Four young girls with voices of pure gold were singing in the back of the market, and they were joined by what I could only describe as a “hype man,” similar to the work of Flava Flav in Public Enemy.

       As I listened to their delightful melodies, the whole facade of my “corporate success” came crashing down in front of me, and my dreams of success in the music business flooded my mind.  I immediately knew that these girls and their weird “Kabuki Flav” dude were my ticket out of Diaper Hell™.  I decided that I would manage this act and bring their magical music to the United States, where we would no doubt conquer the world of pop.

       Well, those are all the details that I can share with you at this time.  I’m typing this from my work computer at the Diaper Emporium Corporate Shitquarters®.  I’m sure you have many questions, such as what my marketing strategy will be, how I plan to carry out my assault on the music industry, and what five obviously Japanese performers were doing in a Chinese market, but those questions will have to wait for another time.  Meanwhile, I leave you with our first ever video.  Enjoy!