Seriously, can the Chinese, Botswanans, or space aliens please just conquer us? America is obviously of no further use to the universe, and shockingly, it isn’t because of the Democrats or Republicans.

In internet parlance, we are D-MFD. Google it. It includes a profanity that I can’t type here, but you should be able to figure out which part it is.

I’m not talking about the recession/depression, because those will continue to come and go until the world realizes that, with all the great things we have, the only things people really consider valuable are a shiny rock and a clear sparkly rock. When that happens, skills become necessary again. To get a haircut, you will have to trade a chicken to eat. But as long as women exist, those two rocks will continue to dominate everything.

The reason America is done became evident when I stopped at a store today. It might be a potential advertiser, so I will call the store the Middle-Aged Air Force.

While browsing at the Middle-Aged Air Force, I came across a pair of shorts that, of course, in the current style, were all wrinkled and had rips in them. While this infuriates me, I am used to it.

What threw me off were the paint stains on the shorts. I thought they must have been left out while they were working on the display, so I looked at the pair behind them and the ones behind them and they all had paint splatters!

Not only did they all have paint stains, but they were $10 more than shorts without paint splatters. WTF? How do you charge more for shorts that Goodwill won’t even take?

How about this: Buy a pair of cheap shorts, and charge someone to paint her house. Not only do you have the paint-splattered shorts, but you have a pocket full of cash to go buy some other clothes that will make me hate you even more.

I guess, if these trends continue, the next big thing will be shirts with pit stains, special-sauce streaks, and the funk of cigarettes … because everyone wants to seem like a cool, edgy smoker, but is usually too sissy to actually do it.

In some Third World country, people will make the clothes and then wear them while they are force-fed juicy, sloppy burgers until they are too big for the clothes, at which point they will be put into a room where the clothes are hanging, and they will chain smoke to suppress their appetites until they are thin enough to put the clothes back on and then paint the factory. That way, you get the distressed, ruined look of the clothes without actually having to do anything other than hanging out at bookstores, reading books that you should be buying and reading at home instead.

As a bonus, the factory saves money because the facilities are always freshly painted, and you don’t have to pay the Third World labor force because you are keeping them flush with burgers and menthol cigarettes. It’s a win/win, and everyone knows that, in business, that is the ideal outcome.

PLEASE, SOMEONE, JUST DROP THE BOMB ON US!!!!!!! Or at the very least, let me win the Powerball so I can build the Weathers Compound, where I will be able to ride out the end of the world in my neatly pressed khaki shorts and white trash sleeveless T-shirt. And yes, those pit stains came from hard work, and I earned every one of those ketchup splotches, too.

P.S.: February 18 will be my 32nd birthday. I will be FAT32. If you don’t get that joke, just know that my fellow computer nerds are rolling their eyes and shaking their heads.