Your opinion matters on Gas Station Dick Pills (Tropical Flavor, 48-count)
If you are anything like me, your email box is a fucked apart dead thing rapidly overflowing with asks to review Amazon products and asks to buy Google space for more emails about reviewing fucking Amazon products.
And if you fall for it, they take you to a page where you give stars, select whether the product was even what you thought you would get, and then fill in comments that I guess will be embarrassingly mailed to the vendor. Then I suspect we go to court to come to terms with our differences in expectations.
Fuck if I know — I don't write things down. It is the first step to being convicted of a crime.
Amazon, if I wanted to review your products, I would have done so already.
It's getting ridiculous. I just bought a stack of 'Simpkins Tropical Fruit Drops'. You want me to include that I snort the remaining coke you powder these things in when I'm done eating the whole fucking thing in a single sitting?
I bought a fucking porch goose
This fucking email says your opinion matters to us.
Does it though. Does it, El Jefe. Because I have opinions. I have opinions at 2am about the neighbor's motion light, I have opinions about whoever decided the bodega stopped carrying the good tallboys, and not once has anybody from Amazon asked about those.
What you want is five stars on a plastic goose so an algorithm somewhere keeps a warehouse guy running at 4 mph until his knees file for independence. That's not my opinion mattering. That's me doing unpaid QA for the richest man to ever stand on a boat.
FINE. I wrote one. Are you happy?
You want a review so bad? Here. Here is my verified purchase review of the Gaggleville Goose, submitted at 1:40 in the morning, and I stand by every word of it:
★★★★★ — Goose arrived. Scooter came over, looked at it for a long time, and asked if he could borrow it for "a thing," and I said no you cannot borrow a goose for a thing, that is how the last thing started. Anyway the goose sits on the porch. You can buy little outfits for it, which I would never do, because I am a grown-ass cat with dignity, except I did buy the tiny raincoat, which has not shipped yet, which is its own separate grievance I will be filing. Would purchase again if I black out near my phone which is how the first one happened.
Took me forty minutes and most of a bottle of something Ted left behind the toilet tank, and you know what Amazon told me? "Thank you. Your review is pending approval." PENDING FUCKING APPROVAL? You chased me through fourteen emails like I owed you child support and now my opinion has to be screened? I want to look into the eyes of the person who decides whether my goose feelings are legitimate.
And here's the part that actually makes me want to bite drywall
You know who could use a review? US. This website. This business the rest of us are legally and emotionally chained to.
Amazon is worth more than solid-gold fuck all and it's out here begging like a damp orphan. Meanwhile CatBagz has moved no bags this quarter. I confirmed this with Scooter who keeps our numbers in a spiral notebook now because the software wanted $14 a month.
The last review anybody left this company was in 2016 and the entire review said "bag came." Five stars though. We printed it out. It's on the fridge under the Domino's magnet.
You leave US a review and I promise you an actual living creature reads it aloud, weeping fledgling tears. Theodore will rebut it point-by-point even if it's glowing, because that's a sickness he has, but somebody will FEEL something, which is more than that survey page has ever done for anyone.
So no, Amazon. I will not be rating my transaction. I already rated it the way the devil intended, which is by keeping the goose and never emotionally processing the purchase at all.
Five stars for the fruit drops. Five stars for the goose. Five stars for the pills I have now stated in writing, twice, that I did not order, which my lawyer says was a mistake. Five stars for the email asking me to review the email. Now leave me alone. I'm tired, and the tiny raincoat still hasn't shipped.
ALRIGHT. THAT'S IT. GET OUT OF HERE.
