Best. Shoes. Ever.

If you’re not familiar with it, there’s a sensor that goes in your shoe, and a receiver that snaps on to your iPod. The iPod shows how far you’ve gone, how fast you’re going, how many calories you’re burning, and so on. While you’re walking or running, you get an occasional voiceover telling you similar information.

After about a half hour today, I decided my legs kind of hurt, and I was about done. Not a minute later, I get the voiceover… “One kilometer to go.” For you heathens who didn’t have to learn Metric and Imperial units in school, a kilometer is about… well… it isn’t very far. So I pushed further, because I didn’t want Ms. Nike to be ashamed of me. “One half kilometer to go.” Well, this is taking too long, so I’ll turn the speed up. A-ha! Motivation!

I got home, and let it sync with the Nike site. Yay, me. Faster than last time.

Fuck you, sporty whore who can run.

I’m actually working up to running. Right now, it’s more of a brisk walk that takes forever. But Nike has has convinced me that I need a wonderful array of things, conveniently located on their site that tracks all of my uploaded data. Like a wristband. And an armband. And a watch. And better shoes. And a new outfit. All of these things will make me a better runner, even though I’m not really a runner right now. I will be one, and I’ll finally understand the allure.

More importantly, I’ll look closer to the people my age at the gym. Right now, I tend to hang with the 60+ crowd, because most of them are walking pretty slow. So, I imagine I pass myself off in the “medical needs” section, rather than “Holy fuck, he’s huge” when I’m next to some 19 year-old pixie who has been running like a fucking gazelle 30 minutes prior to my arrival, and stays an hour later than I do. Not that I’m bitter about it. Realistically, I can’t be. She didn’t shove those pizzas down my throat.

Speaking of Born to Run, Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band are playing this Friday. Had I known earlier, I might have wanted to go if there was an AmEx pre-sale. But I just checked and the whole floor is $92 General Admission, and anywhere else decent is like $103. Maybe if this was a farewell tour, but shit, that’s like a new pair of shoes and a Nike+ watch for two tickets. Sorry Bruce. I don’t think so.

Sounds very serious and almost scary, huh? I mean, that’s a resounding preface and answer for damn near everything lately.

Why can’t you give me extra Sweet & Sour sauce for my McNuggets? Oh, the economy you say? Dear me, I had better adjust my monocle so I can see the plight of my fellow man.

Seriously? You think he's figured out government secrets to free money?

Whether you’re looking for a reasonable price on a new television, or need to find yourself a job, people will tell you where to stick it, and if you ask why, they’ll say “The economy!”

That last run-on sentence? Periods are expensive, commas aren’t. It’s the economy, y’know…

Because I am a master of this internet, and will someday be as internet famous as some of the people on YouTube have been, I’ve seen a lot of ads targeting people who are impacted by the harsh and unforgiving mistress we call “The Economy.” And I’d like to share with you one very simple truth. This information is valuable. This information will save you money. Hard earned money, which, according to people who talk about being employed, is the only kind of money there is. Here it is:

Nobody wants to give you free money. Nobody.

I’ll blow my wad on periods here, to drive this point home: Nobody. Wants. To. Give. You. Money. For. Nothing. (insert lame “chicks for free” reference here)

This man's money is clearly hard-earned. Harder than anyone. Don't believe me? Check out the fucking hat.

So there’s the part of me that’s all “How in the name of all that is holy are people still falling for the Nigerian scam e-mails?” I’d think with the ever-watchful eye of Channel 7, even the oldest senior citizen with e-mail would be well aware that Uge Watumbe does not know a long lost millionaire relative you’ve never met. Yet, the scams still flow, because people still fall for them.

What’s more disturbing though, is the ridiculous online marketing I’m seeing now, which is really what prompted me to tug the old soapbox from the closet and bitch.

When you see a banner ad offering you something ridiculous — let’s say free money for your opinion, or a mortgage with $0 down at 2.5% interest, or $2,000 televisions for $199, it is almost certainly bullshit. Nobody gives a shit about your opinion, and they’re sure as fuck not going to pay you for it. This thing here? I pay for it. Sure, I should write it off on my taxes as a public service, but never the less, nobody is paying me for my opinion. Incidentally, my opinion is better than, and worth exponentially more money than yours.

Change you're a fucking retard to believe in.

Similarly incredible is the sheer number of ads online that profess that Obama has shooed in some magical law that is guaranteed to reduce your mortgage payment. But it’s a big secret, and the only way you’ll learn about it is by clicking on the seizure inducing flash ad on underground sites like CNN and The Weather Channel. Tip: If you’re 10 years in to your 30 year mortgage and you reamortize it, you’re going to pay less, unless you’re actually one of the dumbest people alive.

Similarly, there are ads professing “debt relief” (often of the guise that Dear Leader has bestowed this to his loyal subjects as well). The mysterious program? Fucking Bankruptcy. That’s the magic program.

Yes, it’s a federal program. Yes, it reduces your debts. It’s goddamn bankruptcy, for fuck’s sake! The only secret you’re unlocking is that you’re kind of a fuckup when it comes to your money, since declaring bankruptcy makes it public record. So when you see or hear about the program that lets you manage your debts if they’re over $5,000, think about the stupid fuckstick who is declaring bankruptcy over that kind of money.

Nobody is giving free money. Not wealthy marketers. Not people in charge of the estates of dead relatives in Africa (unless you actually have a dead relative in Africa who left you some money). Not Obama. Not the rest of the government. Stop clicking on the damn ads. Stop calling for more information when you hear them on the radio. As the wise philosopher Susan Powter once said: “Stop the insanity!”

This is what I saw after I checked out:

Nice…

The closest I can figure, is the incredibly caucasian woman who seems to be oblivious to the fact that you’d need to accept Sprint’s shitty service to use one.

She’s just so calm, and happy at the same time. She makes me believe that her e-mail shows up on her phone instantly, and that she can probably use her Exchange calendar properly — two things that my iPhone kind of sucks at.

I want one.

And yet, I’ve never seen one in person. Closest I’ve come was looking at the dummy phone at Best Buy a couple of days ago. But she’s sold me, as soon as they come out with a GSM version.

I realize, of course, that I’m probably the only person who knows who Hat Lady is. She’s probably in her late 40′s and shows up to all of these types of functions. Every time, she wears a bright hat with a long ribbon, and probably listens more intently than anyone else.

Sadly, she is the only person I’ve recognized today, which reinforces my belief that IT workers are leaving Michigan en masse.

Someday, it may just be me and Hat Lady, and a bunch of dorks trying desperately to sell is things we neither want nor need.

Note to self: find that Comcast guy.