I don't know what this nation or this community will come to if I don't get some cheesecake on this website.
What is this nation - and this BLOG - coming to if I cannot get some cheesecake or, at worst, some pie?
I have been working for two days on my legal work at my office, despite glorious weather outside in the mid-Atlantic, taking only a short break to go to my ex-wife's place to pick up my boy to take him to the park for his 5th birthday and to open presents with him. Noah got his Crayola package, his chalk, his fuzzy penguin and his butcher paper for drawing all day. But now where's Daddy's present? Where's the goddamn cheesecake?
This site should be eliminated if I cannot get some fucking cheesecake. I will use eliminationist rhetoric here. This absence of pie is a CANCER, a malignancy, on the net. No, unacceptable. This violates basic norms of human decency.
Look, I don't need two babes in bikinis to fight over who gets to give me cheesecake, or pie. I don't need Kos to photoshop himself holding a pie over his, well, image. In fact, I can live OK without the former and extremely well without the latter. But where's my cheesecake or my fallback pie? At my age I am prepared to take the cheesecake that I can get, and to lay out more cash than I had expected to, but damn - I should be able to get it right here.
Seriously, does no one understand the need for full access to cheesecake? I don't think that you should have to be a Congressman to get access to decent cheesecake; a bus driver or even (gulp) an attorney ought to be able to access affordable cheesecake without getting denied on a bait and switch at the damn checkout counter by some booger-picking iPod wearing 17 year-old working off the books who won't run the goddamn cheesecake over the scanner. I should not have to explain to the Wal-Mart greeter that because I bought cheesecake 7 years ago, I should have to wait until an open enrollment period to buy a goddamn cherry cheesecake, or to get the price jacked up on me by some asshole in Bentonville between the time I grab the cheesecake off of the counter and the time I reach the booger-picker.
No cheesecake for you - that's what I expect from the wingnut side of the aisle, the assholes who tell you to eat a three-year-old Twinkie and pretend it's cheesecake. They have wealthy friends in New York bakeries, they get cheesecake whenever they want, even when they retire.
Who do I have to sleep with to get some goddamn cheesecake on this website? Sheesh....