Is this story from the New York Post real? I don't know. I refuse to look into the veracity of something so outlandishly fucktarded for fear it will open a Pandora's box of jellied brains that will immediately cause me to wet myself and tune in to Spike TV while I wait for a delivery from Popeye's. I can't take these risks, even for you, my devoted fans.

According to the story in the Post, there are some well-to-do moms in New York who are hiring professional organizers to pack for their kids for camp, because the idea of giving your kid a plastic bag with two pairs of underwear, some sunscreen, and a box of Twinkies is beyond the skill set of Manhattanites these days. So these organizers, for $250 an hour, will pack your kids' shit for you. Pro tip: I will pack your kid's shit for way less than $250 an hour. I will make a kid with you for less than $250 an hour. I will be your kid for less than $250 an hour.

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"Yo, when's feedin' time?"

The existence of this job is predicated upon not only your child being fundamentally unable to pack a bag of their own shit for a week away from home, but you as a parent being dumbfounded by the task as well. This leads people like me to wonder where you found the lamp that contained the genie that you implored to dial the phone for you to get a hold of this organizer in the first place and how often you get your head stuck in jugs around the house.

As part of the $250-an-hour job these organizers do, which can take up to four hours, they're packing 1,000 thread count sheets and spare shelving for the kids to use at camp, because these kids apparently want to be beat up by strangers but aren't sure how to say it with words.

No child wants to be the kid whose idiot mom hired a professional packer to send them to camp, because first, that requires acknowledging that your mom is an idiot, and second, that means that's $1,000 that could have been spent on literally anything in the world, from feeding homeless people to hiring a guy to fuck a Camaro on camera for a fetish video, that will forever be gone.

Hey, what the heck is a cuddle club? According to my research, a cuddle club is a club at which you cuddle. With strangers. Whom you pay.

Say you're feeling lonely today and you want human contact. Rather than following the lead of, say, your entire species for its entire existence, you can now go to a club and give money to a stranger whom you can snuggle up with in a non-sexual manner for a predetermined amount of time in an effort to deceive yourself into thinking you're worthy of human contact. How much does it cost to lie to yourself like this? Attendants make about $45 an hour, and the house gets a cut as well, but the whole thing sets you back $80.

So for $80, you hop into bed with an attractive stranger and you literally just sleep. On a scale of 1 to pathetic, this ranks a solid 9, with your parents changing their last name and not answering your calls at Christmas.

I understand the desire for human contact, even in a non-sexual way, but the facade of pretending to be someone's friend or however you explain this is all kind of head-shakingly sad. If someone can't find companionship on their own, we're not doing them favors by taking their money and pretending to like them for a few hours. It's like dishonest prostitution or something. That guy should use that money to buy a Fleshlight, or a crippling addiction to some kind of mind-altering substance. He owes it to himself.

Do you ever use toothpicks? I could be wrong, but I feel they're a little retro these days; you don't see them so often anymore. Maybe it's because they're fundamentally gross and in a strange way kind of like the yin to toilet paper's yang, just a weird little implement you use to clean one of your holes as part of the process of consuming nourishment. Maybe it's because flossing has taken off. I don't know, I'm not an ornithologist.

Despite the rarity of toothpicks these days, or what I perceive as rarity and will not acknowledge as otherwise, there's a company in Canada called Daneson that's making what can be best described as "What the fuck is that?" but can also be described as "artisanal toothpicks." Not familiar with the word "artisanal"? It means "overpriced artsy-fartsy shit." That's right from my desk dictionary. Daneson makes single malt scotch-infused toothpicks for $36. That $36 will net you four bottles, each bottle guaranteed to contain at least 12 toothpicks. Meaning you just bought 48 toothpicks. For $36. So $0.75 each. For a sliver of wood you use to poke jerky out of your teeth.

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"I keep this industry in business!"

Someone over at Daneson makes these toothpicks for a living. The website says this about them, I assume without irony:

To be clear, if you're not a scotch drinker you will likely not pick up on the subtlety of No16 because it is literally soaked in premium single malt then kiln dried leaving behind flavors deep in the wood of the toothpick.

That's a real thing. I wish I could write jokes that dry. If I could write jokes that dry, Stephen Colbert would avert his eyes every time he called upon me to help out on his show, which he would do every day.

If the previous paragraph didn't give it away, hamuketsu is a Japanese term for hamster asses, and it exists because people have been making books filled with pictures of hamster asses. Do you know what people do with books filled with hamster asses? Nothing good, I'll tell you that. What could you possibly do with them? Look at them? Jack it? I have no idea, but there's no sane option.

How popular are hamster asses in Japan, you may ask? The answer is "for fuck's sake." Translated into non-exasperated English, over 40,000 copies have already been sold. Forty thousand Japanese people. That's like the entire city of Salem, Massachusetts, every man, woman, and child, owning a copy of a book that features nothing but photographs of hamster asses. And if you want to really have your mind blown, ask yourself if anyone wanted a book of hamster asses before it existed, or if this trailblazing hamster ass photographer start the trend on his own, simply by taking a picture one day of some hamster's ass, looking at it, and thinking, "Yeah ... yeah, this is it."

I work for a company that has a social media expert, and I almost feel bad for him. Almost. Like the way you'd feel bad for someone who tried to dive off a cliff into the ocean but hit the rocks on the way down. It's unfortunate, but also, couldn't you see those rocks there, dumbass? Likewise, the social media expert chose to do this to himself. He chose to pretend he knows how to assist your business through the use of things like Facebook and Twitter. Fun fact: No one's business has ever been improved by Twitter. You hear me? No one. One person in a million found a way to make money off of Twitter, and that includes the people who invented Twitter.

And Facebook? No social media expert knows how to parlay Facebook into anything, because there's no such thing as a social media expert. You don't know what I want to see on Facebook, and do you know why? Because fuck you and fuck Facebook. I don't even have Facebook. And people who do have Facebook want to see hilarious cat pictures, or dumb criminals, or stories about Justin Bieber getting punched, or stories about orangutans, or memes, or recipes for maple fudge, or literally everything else on earth, because literally everyone else on earth, except me, is on Facebook, and no one has a goddamn clue what all of them want to see.

This is what a social media expert does -- they put a post on your Facebook page and see how many people interacted with it. Then they make another post. If more people interact with one post than the other, they try to replicate the more popular one. Was it a picture? We'll post more pictures. Was it a helpful story? We'll post more helpful stories. A marmot could do what a social media expert does, and they all know it. No one must live in as much fear as a social media expert because no one has done so little to get the word "expert" included in their title, all tenuously balanced on a stunning pile of virtual bullshit and a vague understanding of Pinterest.

Social media is a buzz term; you can tell because of how often the rest of the media use it. People and businesses have been convinced for the last few years that social media is of vital importance to their business and they have no idea why. And this in turn bred a whole league of people who are more than happy to get paid to assure you it will help your business and it will help even more if you hire them. And now look how you have 100,000 new Facebook friends. Isn't that great? I mean, they don't go to your store or order shit from you, but they like your page, so that's somehow not completely and utterly useless, right? No. No sir.

For more on employment options, check out 5 Jobs Everyone in the World Should Have at Some Point and The 6 Worst Jobs Ever (Were Done by Children).

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