Dirty Dirty Crude And Other Great Gifts From Your Corporate Overlords
exxon didn't do it
Are you looking for the perfect gift for the Corporate Person in your life who has everything? Or maybe you're a Corporate Person looking for just the right something to give a lobbyist or board member.
You've come to the right place. Here's Yr Wonkette's 2015 Corporate Schmucks' Holiday Gift Sucktacular.
Buy America’s Dirty Shale Oil Since No One Else Is Doing It
[contextly_sidebar id="eU0ScGMmyZcYIIamYQAiMaWrkCjtPyfx"]Roll out the barrel and throw a giant red Lexus bow on it, Fossil Fuel connoisseurs. It looks like the export ban on American crude oil will soon be lifted so that the world can be blessed with all the gross shale sludge Exxon and pals can extract from our Dirtiest Dakota. It's just too bad nobody wants it.
Moody’s Investors Service said on Wednesday that it expects the industry to continue limping at least through 2017 as weak cash flows discourage drilling and the declining values for oil and gas fields make asset sales less effective tools to generate cash.
Maybe someday your grandkids will momentarily remove their oxygen masks and speak fondly of the so-called "shale revolution" as they roast algae balls over an open garbage fire. But not at this rate.
Put ‘Just Mayo’ Under The Tree Whenever Since It’s Just Not Mayo
Upstart Corporate Buddy Hampton Creek is trying to make it work with Vegan-centric products and the backing of some Bill Gates dude. Good for them. But earlier this summer the FDA accused the cheeky company of misleading customers by naming one of its products "Just Mayo" and putting a picture of an egg on the label. Here's the thing, the product contained no eggs and, as all white people innately know, egg yolk is a key component to mayonnaise.
Luckily, the FDA shrugged and decided to reconsider their determination, allowing the company to keep the name as long as it made label changes and added a "NO EGGS, YO" disclaimer. And this is fine. After all, the Spin Doctors didn't have medical degrees and nobody sued them for false labeling. Happy holidays, Hampton Creek. Maybe Vegan parents should leave some healthy and gross faux-mayo out for that chubby guy trying to squeeze his ass down the chimney.
Never Too Early To Think About That Laser-Shooting Fighter Jet For Xmas 2034
[contextly_sidebar id="Lb3UzZYXGm8tMomovJ8cMZUujPzXUW6R"]American high school kids have known only a nation at war and that's the way it's going to be for a while, especially when the next Republican emperor spends DAY ONE commencing a 16-front war. This War To Never End Any Wars will require a new generation of fighter jets, and our corporate savior Northrop Grumman has just the toy to develop.
The idea: The jets could use a rechargeable solid-state laser to shoot down enemy missiles or aircraft that come within a certain range, essentially creating a no-fly zone around each aircraft.
Hot damn. Fighter jets with lasers? Keeping the peace, making the war, and retaining the ability to remove a gallbladder from 30,000 feet. Here Northrop, take our billions.
Pepsi To Go Re-Gift Gross Sugar Water No One Liked
[contextly_sidebar id="Q29avMdHFmtUKOjdQ5VYyEZEXBBiaLro"]"Whatever happened to Crystal Pepsi?" asked no one who was never on a basic cable I Love the 90s show. Yet for some reason PepsiCo is releasing 13,000 cases of its clear soda that had a short run in 1993. How do you get your hands on a few ounces of the Clear?
Pepsi has announced that the product will come back as part of a giveaway to promote the company’s rewards app, Pepsi Pass.
The synergy of annoying modern day technology and thousands of dusty cases of diabetes potion stored in the back of a warehouse. Looks like someone in marketing is getting a promotion!
Obligatory Heartwarming Walmart Holiday Gun Story
[contextly_sidebar id="d2Ht2IEXjl0XiarwqHbnvsrz5okYG5IZ"]'Twas the week before Christmas and all through the store
the gun sales were soaring like never before.
The shotguns were stored in glass cases with care,
in fear that NoBama would some day be there.
While children were juiced on some energy drink,
mom bought them rifles, some black and some pink.
Where the exercise equipment once used to be,
they purchased their ammo, not one box, but three.
When by the old greeter there arose such a clatter,
maybe Bundy Ranch psychos causing people to scatter.
Or maybe some dick with a bomb in a bag,
unable to buy a Confederate flag.
Let's skip ahead a couple of stanzas,
and something something Tony Danza.
The Ghost of Sam Walton, decrepit but swell,
digs the decor of red shotgun shells.
Then into the break room he'll noisily crash,
and fire some fella for returning some cash.
We hear him exclaim like a big fucking jerk,
"Merry Christmas to all, Now get back to work."