Posts Tagged "batteries"
Ladies and gentlegerms, meet Billy the Big Mouth Bass. Billy used to be a cultural icon of gloriously irritating kitch. But as his prominence in our stinking pop culture stew faded over the years, Billy turned to partying to fill the void in his animatronic heart. Wild partying turned more desperate over the years as Billy slipped into a nightmarish cycle of addiction and withdrawal, only finding solace at last in the teachings of the Dark Lord, Satan.
Somewhere along the line, Billy also had a string of plastic surgeries to alter his appearance to more closely resemble that of a rainbow trout, but that’s neither here nor there. What we can say, however, is that what was once a notorious and hideous Secret Santa gift, often relegated to the dark corners of over-crowded garages and attics, has now become quite possibly the funniest fucking thing I’ve seen in quite some time. Oh Billy, you may have lost the will to live, but you certainly haven’t lost your demonic charm.
Never — and I mean never — buy a wireless mouse. They’re marketed as convenient, clutter-free and easy to use, when the reality is, they’re mostly just a money pit. How far away from your computer do you tend to use your mouse? Like… a foot and a half? How often are you going to be using your mouse at the table across the room from your computer, considering you can’t even read the monitor from that distance? Yeah. Never. Which is why you should never buy a wireless fucking mouse.
Oh, and there’s also the part about how you might as well get sponsored by Duracell if you actually plan on using one. The people at the convenience store counter are going to think you’re cracking double As open and getting high off them or making acid-spraying bombs or doing something illegal at the rate you’re going to be picking those economy size packs up.
I’ve replaced the batteries on mine three times in a month. And now I’m just going to be replacing the entire mouse with one of its prehistoric, wired ancestors. Keep the clutter, keep the money, and keep your fucking batteries for your circa-1998 discman that, oh yeah, you never use anymore because it’s the fucking future.