I still have enough money to hate Rick Reilly

That's right, Rick. Not even identity theft can make me forget how much I hate you and the senseless tripe that you try to continually pass off as a million-dollar column. I think you should consider getting tuberculosis.

Here's Reilly's latest "effort", in which he used stale played-out jokes to fix the recession.







This Great Recession is on us like a golf club head cover. Every direction you look, blackness. I meet people every day who are working twice as hard for half the pay in offices that would make a morgue look cheery.

They probably work on Wall Street. If so, they should be working for half of the pay they used to receive. I, on the other hand, have not met a single person who is working twice as hard for half the pay, but then again I have not looked in a complete 360-degree direction recently.





It's tough. It's brutal. It's depressing. And that's just the break-room fridge.

Rick Reilly...you have a comedic gift. Of course, I guess some people refer to herpes as a gift as well, so that might not be saying much.






But I have a solution. What offices need right now is a little bit of sports.

Perfect. This will certainly help people feed their kids, right? I mean, this has to work.






If there's one thing games teach us, it's to buck up, dig in and hold on. That's what we cherish about sports -- the faith that no matter how bad things suck, eventually you're going to win. How else do you explain Cubs fans?

Cubs fan joke! I love it! Sports does do this. For example, Red Sox fans had the same thought before their team won it all in 2004. Which goes to show, sure you may have some problems, but it may only take 86 years for them to ameliorate themselves!!! YAY!






For instance, what if -- like in hockey -- the boss picked the three stars of the day? And those three people came out of their cubicles and did a little spin around the main lobby carpet while the other employees banged their staplers on their desks in approval?

Oh my God! This would only get tired after...once! This would be so cool. I can't wait. How about we have office fights, too? Or, I know, every couple years we go up to a co-worker and slash them in the throat with a skate! IT WOULD BE SO HOCKEY!






What if the office had chest bumps and shaving-cream pies and everybody slapping the Work Like a Champion Today sign over the door on the way in?

Wow! It would make the office EVEN GAYER!

The first person in this office to hit me with a fucking shaving cream pie is going to get beat so hard that they could do Shamwow commercials.







And office chatter!

C'monKidHeyKidOnlyTakesOneBuyerKidOnlyTakesOneYouAndHerKidRightOnThe DottedLineKid.

Words can not describe how not funny this is. I believe this is on par comedically with full-blown AIDS, devastating earthquakes, and The Holocaust. Why was this article greenlighted? This is an assault on comedy. Rick Reilly should probably be arrested for writing this and cashing the check that he received for doing so. In fact, it would probably help ease the recession a bit.





What if every accounting office came with cheerleaders?

Two, Four, Six, Eight!

What Do We Depreciate?

Corporate-Owned Vehicles!


Or, what if that didn't happen and I wasn't forced to kill anybody in this office with lockcutters? If failed attempts at humor caused water to evaporate, then Rick Reilly would have some serious explaining to do about the Aral Sea.





Everything we need to know about the economic recovery we learned in sports: Back each other up, hustle for everything, and get it back one score at a time.

Right now, I am thanking the Lord Jesus Christ that Rick Reilly is not an economist. Did Obama start taxing successful humor or something?






The office needs hotfoots and butt slaps and Gatorade showers. And a room where people can go and bust the bejesus out of a cheap toilet with a bat every once in a while, just to get it out of their system.

That would be terrible for office productivity, Rick. Listen, I have to wear nice shirts to work. The first person to dump Gatorade on one of them is getting face-raped.






When a really great secretary hits 65 and has to go, why not retire her number?

Dolores Ginty, no one will ever use extension 3713 again. It's yours forever!

Because Dolores Ginty doesn't give the slightest of fucks about the extension 3713.






Like baseball, firms should have some political bigwig come and throw out the first pitch of the day.

Mrs. Finsterwald? This is Governor Bloom. How would you like to own a vacuum that could change your life?

Holy hell. Just shut the fuck up already. This kind of writing makes Natalee Holloway disappear.






Work needs Rings of Fame along the office walls and tailgating instead of lunchrooms. At the end of the day, everybody makes human tunnels for everybody else to run through. Orange slices now and again would be nice too. When the big sales drive starts, guys should grow playoff beards and women should stop shaving their legs, and everybody should start wearing their Jason Giambi lucky gold lamé thong and refuse to take it off until we're back in the black.

Why? WHY DOES EVERYONE IN RICK REILLY'S VIEW OF CORPORATE AMERICA SELL VACUUMS?!?!?!?!





There's nothing better in golf than a good caddie, right? So why can't businesspeople have them?

All right, Mr. Grey, here comes the big client and his wife. Don't forget, she's been on that Oreo diet, so tell her she looks like she lost some weight. And remember, he can't hear out of his left ear, so stay right. You TOTALLY got this!

Uhhh, they do. We just don't call them caddies. Do you think people in offices just meet other people with no knowledge about them at all? "Hey, Mr. Grey, remember that he's black, so no sickle-cell jokes, ok?".





Tiger Woods wears red on Sundays for low numbers. Businesspeople need to start wearing green on Fridays for cash. And if they sign the big deal, let's watch it again on instant replay!

Or we could wear purple on Thursday so we feel like kings. And maybe gay people could wear blue on Tuesday because they like dudes. And we could wear black the entire month of February for Black History Month. Really, this will save America.





Look, we Americans are as resilient as Slinkys. As a country, we are too young and bouncy to let this get us down much longer. This is a time to turn our hats around backward and bring out our rally monkeys and start rattling the window shades. Don't make fewer business trips, make more! Don't buy less stock, buy more! Every office needs an organist playing "Charge!"

We can't afford to fly, so let's fly more! We can't afford to walk, so let's run! We can't afford condoms, SO LET'S FUCK EVERYBODY IN THE OFFICE!!!!






Think like athletes. Write "No Prisoners" on the soles of your shoes. Ask each other for autographs. And at the end of the month, put together a "One Shining Moment" highlight reel. Then, somebody, pull out the softball cooler of beer.

I autograph enough stuff every day. I refer to it as my "signature".






Pretty soon, as sure as cops love doughnuts, this will turn around. And we'll be using sports stuff we never thought we'd use.

HA! Cops and donuts! Hey, sure as little Vietnamese children make shoes for 20 cents a day, we are going to get out of this hole! And as sure as all Chinese people look the same and have tiny cocks, we're gonna make some fucking money!






Hey, nobody talk to Achmed. He's made a sale on every call so far today! Don't jinx it!

He's sold eight vacuums today!

Maybe if all you are doing is cold-calling, you could save some money by not having an office?





When everybody gets their job back and unemployment in this country is once again under 5%, here's what I'll do: If you see me in a bar, I'll buy you a jigger of your favorite adult beverage. But you get only 24 seconds once I walk in.

After all, I've got a shot clock.

HA! That's so...nonsensical. This is honestly one of the dumbest things that I've ever seen Rick Reilly write, and that really is saying something.

Rick, I'd take your drink, but I'm not able to hold it in my hands. Because I'm carrying a fucking basketball right now. Maybe next time.