By CHRIS PACKHAM
You guys, I love this so much. Ed Whelan at the National Review has actually found a way to deepen the intellectual vacuity of what remains of the Republican party by suggesting that Barack Obama's mother probably wanted to abort him. Who will be left to clap off the Clapper-equipped lights of the neoconservative movement after November? Because, you guys, this is all they have now.
After the jump, an interim report I'm required to file every three months in order to justify my grant. BONUS: Includes cute photos. Click here, or on this snowman:
You guys, I've been listening to this all morning:
If I've ever said anything bad about the Cordish Company, their downtown entertainment glitterplex or any of the fine people with popped collars I've seen vomiting on the sidewalk and/or their douchey Steve Madden shoes outside the Power & Light District at one o'clock in the morning, I'd now like to retract those statements — literally, by deleting them from Daily Briefs archives over the weekend. I would also like to retract my unacceptable use of the word "douchey" in the previous sentence. It was completely uncalled for, I don't know what I was thinking, y'all. I hereby apologize to Steve Madden, the grant application review team at the Cordish Company, the Power & Light District and listeners like you, the average, sexy Power & Light District customer who enjoys drinking beer the classy way, from a very classy plastic cup. Your Steve Madden shoes look totally edgy in a "suburban dad with a goatee" way.
Now that my brand consultancy business has been engorged with grant money from the Power & Light District and the Cordish Company, I've upgraded the whole apparatus of my personal sexxxiness, from my very sexxxy slip-on Steve Madden loafers to my convertible Ford Shelby GT-H Mustang. I don't deliberately pop my collar up, but if the wind blowing through my sweet ride's open top kinda' blows it up, hey, I'm just trying to keep my eyes on the road, y'all.
Committed not just to the short-term success of the Power & Light District, Cordish has a 20-year plan for continued prosperity while simultaneously crushing local businesses under the rugged lug heels of their casual Friday Skechers Alley Cats. It's impossible to know anything about the future — 20 years ago, people thought that nobody in the futuristic-sounding year 2008 would still be droning played-out, jokey maxims about the unfulfilled promise of jet-packs, and just look at us, WHOOPS, I mean look at you, weakly farting out WHERES MY JET-PACK?????? LOLOLOLOLOL <3 <3 ROTFL whenever anybody talks about futuristic stuff. So we can only speculate about what the popped-collar scenester-bags of the future will be like. Will they be popping their collars manually? Or will futuristic nanobots do it for them?
My personal brand consultancy for children had obvious synergy with the corporate mandate of the Power & Light District, and I received a sizeable cash grant to pro-actively cultivate a group of children into the nightclub douches of the future. For years, I've taught kids what descriptive attributes convey their personal brands; now I'm channeling kids toward a specifically chosen brand equity.
I have poured gallons of Red Bull into dozens of sippy cups. I've conducted field trips of children through Abercrombie & Fitch and sneaked them into PBR Big Sky. I've used flash-cards and role-play scenarios to teach a 4-year-old named Caitlin how to flash douchey faux gang signs. Taking cues from a particular taxonomy of New Jersey douche-clubber, I've smeared kids' faces with cheap bronzer:
Here's another example: Logan is a bright 10-month-old. At least, I think he is. He follows objects with his eyes, and he's figured out that Pladough is edible. That seems fairly smart. But his main preoccupations — shitting, sleeping and chewing on the fringe of his blanket — don't contribute to the fiduciary responsibilities of the Cordish Company to their shareholders. After three short weeks, we rebranded Logan as a Red Bull-addicted frat-bag:
It took weeks to track down those baby Steve Maddens, but it was worth it. We're pretty sure he's now dating three girls who don't know about each other. According to our computer projections, he should be getting into the district by 2026 with whatever is the futuristic equivalent of a fake I.D. A fake RFID implant, maybe?
Jayden is a toddler with obvious locomotor difficulties, judging by how frequently he tips over when he tries to walk. We think he'll grow out of it. But will he grow out of his disposable diapers? Only time will tell. Until then, we're acclimating him to velour track suits, which we hope he'll wear someday with a fake rolex and a gold chain:
Obviously a mixed bag; when clubbers are this young, they're almost impossibly cute. We're absolutely positive that he'll grow out of that.
As an experiment, we're rebranding kindergarteners as art-school hipster-bags. This demographic largely avoids the Power & Light District, but Cordish is hoping to expand their outreach to the introverted cultural firebrands who attend the Kansas City Art Institute. Previously, Savannah had branded herself with Princess imagery in pinks and pastels, and she is experiencing a certain amount of frustration at our rebranding efforts:
This is only a preliminary report; it will be literally 18 years before we can get an accurate measurement of the success of the project. This means more sweet, sweet grant money, and long-term job security for me. Although the study is ongoing, we've eliminated such hispster accoutrements as rave hats from consideration by virtue of being way too adorable:
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