Complaint Department: Take a number and try to come up with something original

The best thing about complaining is there’s no shortage of things to bemoan. Public schools are lousy, companies are negligent, airlines let passengers rot on planes, our food is tainted, newspapers can’t keep our attention, there’s two more years of Bush, and we’re microwaving the world. So I’ll make my predictions for future grievances.

When a mountain climber dies no one will know what kind of gear he used, but if he’s presumed dead yet survives The North Face will endorse him.

Men’s clothing will get ever slimmer and even normal guys will have to hit the big and talls.

Corn and potatoes will be our car fuel; synthetic food will be our body fuel.

Medical coverage will continue to decline while procedures and medicine prices climb.

Grandma will be further distracted by her cell phone, ipod, and DVD player. She’ll drive into a playground.

There will be even less parking.

You’ll never be able to speak to a real human customer service agent on the phone again.

You will wish you never became a celebrity. Thanks a lot UTube and MySpace.

How did we elect a president who doesn’t even speak English? Oh, that’s how.

There’ll be nowhere to get a burger fast and cheap.

The advertising and graphic design bubbles will burst. Expect a surge in costumed goons on the street and unemployed dudes with tattoos will try to sell you pink on black skeleton screen printed shirts. “I used to make design subliminal ads for Sony, now I’m a hotdog.”

Eventually we’ll run out of housing.

When the war’s over we’ll complain about that.

Anna Nicole Smith will rise from the dead as the new savior.
Astronauts will get diaper promotion deals.

Britney Spears will open a hair salon.

There’ll still be nothing on TV.
This blog will get worse.

Things will never be perfect, but at least we can still grumble and bear it. And it doesn’t hurt to laugh sometimes.