It is a warm summer’s day in colonial America when the founding fathers decide that the ratio of taxation to representation is way off. So, like an angst-filled teenager, the founding fathers write the most famous running away letter of all time. Meanwhile, across the pond King George catches wind of this and cannot believe what a bunch of prima donna amateurs he has to deal with. Who do these so-called “founding fathers” think they are? A bunch of day-dreaming desk jockeys finally getting the stones to quit their jobs and sail to the soon-to-be-colonized Galapagos Islands? One can only imagine how cathartic it must have been to draft a break-up letter to England, but those boys clearly missed the part of that old saying where you write the angry letter, but do not send it.

Let us pretend that Thomas Jefferson and co. weren’t a bunch of whiny nerds. Just think about how much innocent tea could have been saved. A little self-control can go a long way, fellas. Colonial America is the kid in the grocery store screaming because they didn’t the Snickers bar they wanted. England is the parent who wants to run errands just one time without their spoiled, shitty kid making a scene. On the drive home England can only think about how they never even really wanted kids, but just kind of had kids anyway because all their friends were having kids. Hey England, if the Dutch, Spanish, French, and Portuguese told you to colonize off of a cliff would you do it? In the wise, immortal words of Kanye West, “Eighteen years, eighteen years, the Queen’s got your colonies, got you for eighteen years.”

Just think of how much greater life would be if America had not moved out of their parents’ house (often referred to by historians as “The Revolutionary War”). We would have used the Euro for a spell which is stronger than the U.S. dollar. That would admittedly be short-lived in the grand scheme of human history since England will eventually do that whole Brexit thing and effectively “America” themselves. Everyone knows that the most important step to becoming a successful actor is to be able to speak with a British accent. Congratulations colonial America! Y’all better get yourselves down to Ye Old Home Depot so you can build a trophy case to hold all the Oscars. Opposite of congratulations to Eddie Redmayne, Benedict Cumberbatch, and Rupert Grint, the “Big 3” of British actors.


Murphy’s Law

“Looks like it’s going to be one of those days, fellas” the ill-tempered man bellyaches to his nearby coworkers. It is 7:22 AM on a cold Tuesday morning in December. The day has only just begun, but Mark has already reached his boiling point, set off this time by an uncooperative copying machine. “I’ve had to reset my default printer every day this week, thanks a lot IT” he whines in a sarcastic tone. After pacing back and forth between the copier and his computer muttering obscenities Mark returns to his cubicle with the elusive contracts in hand. The papers crumple as he balls his hands into fists and climbs onto his desk.

“My fellow coworkers, will we just stand idly by as this company destroys our livelihoods? How many infinitesimally minor inconveniences must we endure? I for one say no more! No more to the upstairs conference room being too cold in the winter and too hot in the summer. No more to the defunct toaster oven in the breakroom that either leaves food frozen or melts the contents into a plastic puddle at the bottom. No more to the tyrannical and oppressive rule of IT over our default user settings.

Who among you can say you are content with the current state of affairs? We are allowing ourselves to be subjected to inhumane treatment. The batteries in my wireless mouse died last week and there was only one AA battery left in the supply closet. I was forced to use my spare mouse with a USB cable for an entire day like a Neanderthal. At what point will someone do something about these blatant violations of the Geneva Conventions? When will the United Nations intervene?

I drive forty miles to and from work in a 1997 Honda Civic through stop-and-go, bumper-to-bumper traffic every day because I am the best goddamn dairy salesman in the greater Madison area, NOT because I want to role-play living in a third-world work camp. This is no way to live!”

Emily in customer support snaps her gum and rolls her eyes as her neighbor finishes proclaiming his latest manifesto. Mark, expecting a standing ovation from his peers, can only hear muffled coughs and the clacking of keyboards over the otherwise piercing silence. He takes a deep breath and hangs his head dejectedly as he comes to notice one of his shoelaces is untied. He throws up his hands, exasperated, and cries out, “Oh jeez, would you look at this. Honestly, what else can POSSIBLY go wrong?” The desk wobbles as Mark leans over to tie his shoe causing him to lose his balance, desperately grasping at the air as he plummets off of his desk. Mark lands headfirst, snapping his neck with a sickening crunch, and then lay motionless on the floor. Dead.

Murphy’s Law


One of the only real goals that has any weight in my life is retirement because the idea of having all the time in the world to have nothing to do is my ultimate fantasy. However, as a millennial with no qualitative grasp on how economics or politics work it is abundantly clear that there will be no social security by the time I reach the age of 65 and my 401K is all but certain to be decimated by the next great economic collapse.

Enough hard facts though, let us pretend that I am a criminally underpaid desk jockey who hates both his job and the idea of taking even the slightest risk to improve his quality of life. In this entirely hypothetical situation this person does not appear to be on the fast track to retirement. However, there are two tried and true options to cross that metaphorical retirement finish line sooner:

  1. Make more money.
  2. Spend less money.

If you are able to pull off both options then what are you doing reading this? Your life is swell and you have no reason to be seeking (hilariously unqualified) financial advice from some sociopath on the internet. If the first option is not possible for you because you provide no discernible value to a company or society as a whole and/or lack the thirst for blood necessary to rise to the top, much like our aforementioned hypothetical hero protagonist character, then option two is right up your alley.

Budgeting is key if you want to spend less money and for the low, low price of free, albeit unsolicited and unsubstantiated, I will teach you how to budget your way to an early retirement:

Entertainment is the first category as it is often the most superfluous part of most people’s expenses. Things like going on going on vacations, ticketed events, and partaking in hobbies are entirely unnecessary expenses. Once you have resolved to give up having fun from now until you die (assuming the cause is old age not self-inflicted gunshot wound) you will be amazed at how much more money you will have to spend on things you are no longer physically capable of doing.

Food is the next category that typically tends to be rife with excess spending. It is pretty common knowledge at this point that tactful grocery shopping and cooking is much more affordable than eating out over the long-term. I am here to do you one better, it is scientifically proven that humans can go up to two weeks without food. If you stick to a strict diet of water and a bi-weekly dumpster diving session then your bank account won’t be the only thing looking good because you will be beach-body ready in no time.

Housing is the last category that we will cover in today’s installment. This one is tricky because it is notoriously expensive, but also indisputably necessary for long-term survival. One of the biggest debates in this arena is whether it is better to rent or own. Assuming you live in a major metropolitan area this debate is entirely irrelevant because gentrification is already well on its way to pricing out renters and homeowners alike. If you don’t live in a major metropolitan area then consider yourself warned of the dangers of gentrification. You will not be feeling so high and mighty when the local saloon becomes a Cross Fit gym/coffee shop. In either case, whether you live in a cow town or a sprawling city, I have a nifty little life hack for you. If you commit enough non-violent felonies you will earn yourself an all-expense paid trip to jail.

Of course, most of this incredibly sincere advice is contingent on having a job that pays more than minimum wage. If you are in the minimum wage club I offer my condolences and wish you the best on your journey of being fucked forever. That just about does it for the No Onions, Please financial advice hour. Tune in next time to find out why saving is futile because of inflation and your investments are going to crash and burn so badly that you will think you have stock in the Hindenburg. In the meantime, keep saving and try not to agonize over the futility of the life you will spend working in its entirety.



If you are reading this then I must convey my reaction in the wise, immortal words of Owen Wilson, “Wow.” This blog is called No Onions, Please. If you came in search of a forum for picky eaters or are unfamiliar with how ordering food online works I feel obligated to say this likely is not the site you are looking for. In all honesty, this likely isn’t the site for anyone as it is in its essence a blog about nothing. Again, if you are in search of a blog about Seinfeld or are an avid something enthusiast I must warn you that this likely is not the site you are looking for.

Since there is a critical shortage of commentary on everyday life and observational comedy on the internet I took it upon myself to chime in with my aggressively average, unqualified takes on life. No mundane topic is off limits. Unoriginal monologues about working in an office, uninspired reviews of movies that came out thirty years ago, unhealthy doses of self-deprecation and more await you until I inevitably quit trying.

Remember kids, you can’t fail if you never have any goals, dreams, or aspirations. Happy New Year!