Cynical Meat Sack

Fisting the First Amendment

2007-04-12T20:52:00.000-04:00

It’s been over a year since my last posting here at Meatsack Central…so, you know that something really good had to bring me out of my blog celibacy to vomit comments into the blogoshpere.

Imus. The washed up, has-been radio guy who just got fired.

Before I get to my rambling point…let me make this clear. I never liked Imus. There isn’t a radio station in this town that broadcasts his show, but I caught his telecast once and wasn’t impressed. His face has no motion…I’m not sure if it’s because he suffered a stroke or if his face is full of Botox, but it’s like plastic. Imus probably should have been off the air a while ago…but, people fear change.

On to the good stuff…I’m so terrified right now about where our country is going with regards to free speech.

What Imus said was stupid. Not because it was racially motivated, because he was fed a line by his producer and blurted out a ridiculous sentence in return that didn’t make any sense. It wasn’t funny…but, it wasn’t a racist comment either. Sexiest? Completely.

The fact that he got fired over this is what scares me.

Here’s what we need to think about…

Where is the outrage over The Chris Rock Show?
Where are the protests over The Dave Chappell Show?
You can buy a copy of Borat at Target next to a copy of Zathura.

All three of these examples are riddled with racists statements and yet none of the same groups that put pressure on any of the producers of these shows or their sponsors to pull the material. (I love all three by the way…Zathura’s ok too.)

We are now at a time in our history where no one of Caucasian decent can make any comment at all about any other race without someone jumping at the chance to call them out on it. But the door doesn’t swing both ways.

I firmly believe that there are certain groups in our country that force issues just so that the group can still exist. These groups include PETA, ACLU, even Congress. As long as we have perceived “problems”, they have job security. If we take away their paychecks, I’ll bet they’d be working a bit harder to truly fix our problems.

What it really boils down to is money. Imus was fired because his sponsors started pulling out…his sponsors jumped ship because they couldn’t sweat the pressure from the activist groups…the activists hadn’t gotten enough press lately and needed a cause to validate their existence to continue the contributions flowing.

Not to foster any conspiracy theories or anything…but, it’s kind of interesting how the Duke case was settled really close to when this thing started up. Huh.

20 Questions Tuesday

2006-07-10T23:27:00.000-04:00

So, this past Christmas I got this game. 20 Q, made by Radica. Supposedly, it can guess what you’re thinking of in 20 questions or less. It’s more like 25 to 30 questions, the first one is actually 5 – Is it an Animal? Vegetable? Mineral? Other? Unknown? If it doesn’t get it in the first 20, it asks five more.

I figured I’d start my own re-occurring theme.

Every Tuesday, I’ll post an item to stump the game. After today’s item, I’ll accept suggestions for next week.

This week’s item:

A Keg

1. Animal? No
Vegetable? No
Mineral? No
Other? Yes
2. Is it used in a Sport? No, kegstands don't count.
3. Is it worth a lot of money? Yes...some more than others.
4. Is it something you can purchase? Sometimes
5. Does it come in a box? No...it's not wine.
6. Can it be heard? No...pumping the keg doesn't count.
7. Is it outside? No...not usually.
8. Could it be found in a classroom? No...unless you're a Delta Tau Chi.
9. Do you use it in public? Yes.
10. Is it straight? No
11. Can it be washed? Yes
12. Do you wear it? No...what's inside, yes.
13. Can it be painted? Rarely, liquor stores don't like it much when you do that.
14. Do you hold it when you use it? Sometimes
15. Does it have a hard outer shell? Yes
16. Does it contain a liquid? Yes
17. Would you pay to use it? Yes
18. Is it heavier than a pound of butter? Yes, but less than a pound of feathers.
19. Would you use it daily? Rarely...anymore.

It’s a wine bottle. No, but you're close.

20. Does it roll? Sometimes.

It’s a bottle of wine. No twit, it's not bottle with wine, either.

21. Is it comforting? Sometimes...the answer isn't in the bottom of the keg, but that doesn't mean you can't look.
22. Would you give it as a gift? Rarely
23. Does it come in different colors? Sometimes
24. Is it heavy? Yes...full.
25. Can you lift it? Sometimes

It’s a Keg. Bitch.

Now...give me your ideas. The best one goes up next week.

Brain Dump

2006-06-29T22:08:00.000-04:00

I don’t have a theme for tonight’s posting…just a few things to get off my chest.

Recently, the Sci-Fi channel began televising the WWE offshoot ECW: Extreme Championship Wrestling. Now, I know that professional wrestling is labeled as “fake” and thus can be considered fantasy…but, putting wrestling on the Sci-Fi channel is like putting Rugby on the Lifetime network, or American Idol re-runs on the History Channel.

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I went to a driving range to nights ago with my brother. Let me back this up a bit and give you some background…I’ve never played a round of golf in my life. The closest I’ve come is Putt-Putt. But, I got a free almost-set of clubs from my wife’s decidedly lesbian sister.

(When I say decidedly, I mean that she fits the stereotype to a “T”…just like a German in lederhosen, a Brit with bad teeth, or a Transvestite with Clown Makeup. She’s so butch, I’m pretty sure that she’s got a bigger dick than I do. She’s a great person, but man she is a really hardcore lesbo.)

So, I’m not sure what driving range etiquette is, but sure as hell laughed my ass off. When you suck as bad as I do, you can’t help but laugh. At least the large bucket of balls was only $6.

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The Ordinance Officer (Yes, officer hot pants) called the house last Friday and had a long talk with my wife. Yeah…any fantasy I may have had is completely gone now. Apparently, she handed out 50 violations that day and ours was just part of the “rounds” and not because any one person complained. Apparently, she forgets the conversation that she and I had in the yard…I can understand, I have that effect on most women in uniform. When we spoke, she said that she had a “complaint” on my next door neighbor…and 10 minutes later she handed me one too and acted like she didn’t know what in my yard could have caused the complaint.

Whatever…my shit’s cleaned up now…sort of.

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I think I’m becoming addicted to prescription drugs and porn. Not necessarily together.

My wife is a borderline hypochondriac and has several open prescriptions for pain meds and muscle relaxants. Vicoden and Flexiril, mostly. The other day, I got home and thought, “I could use a Vicoden.” I wasn’t in pain, I was just looking to get high. WTF? When did I become Chris Rock in New Jack City?

Porn. Holyshit is it stupid easy to find free porn and get it lightening fast on this laptop through my Yard Nazi’s connection. I consider myself a fan of porn, so much so that I have a favorite director. But, the dirt that you can get on the internet is so much worse. It’s like when I was a kid and I’d find a Swedish Erotica magazine next to a dumpster…no words like Playboy, just fucking…pure and simple.

Whitey Invades Ghetto

2006-06-21T21:02:00.000-04:00

(OK, I don't know what's up with Blogger, but evertime I tried to add a link, using the little hyperlink button, it deletes all the text after the link...until I typed the link in. So, you'll just have to deal with ugly links.)

http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/13389273/

This has got to be the most racist and bigoted news article I’ve ever read. Seriously. Some of you may not think that…but, to prove my point, read through this and substitute the words “Black” for “White” and “White” for “Black”.

I guarantee you, had this article been written with that take, it never would have made the news and the writer probably would have been fired and sued by the ACLU.

For those of you who hate to click links, here’s a summary:

Whites in Seattle and Portland are now moving into historically predominantly Black neighborhoods, while Blacks are moving outside the city into the predominantly White neighborhoods. So called Black activists are complaining…yes, complaining…that because of the rise in home values that this “invasion” of white, rich folk is causing it’s “destroying” them “socially and politically” and that it’s “a total inconvenience and disrespect to Black folks.”

I hope that quote was taken out of context. How is that disrespectful? White folk can’t live with Black folk? This activist is honestly SUPPORTING segregation. What a fucking joke…and this story got buried. Where’s the outrage from the ACLU? Nowhere.

Think about this: What happens to career activists if the racial divide is gone? If suddenly, one day, we don’t judge people by skin, but by character. Yeah, they have to find real jobs. So, I’ve got a real hard time believing that some, if not most, of these so called leaders of the Black community hold back these people or encourage and incite more division rather than foster cohesion.

Quick Update(s):

Remember the fuck stick sales chick that drove me Nucking Futs one day?
http://cynicalmeatsack.blogspot.com/2005/12/lifes-plot-twist-episode-1.html

Well, she quit last month. Why? Because, we hired a new sales manger who expects the sales force to SELL instead of running up large expense reports. She quit because she thought she had enough pull to threaten to quit and get away with it. Only the owners called her bluff and she left with no prospects. She tried to ask for her job back, but that didn’t happen.

Kinda makes me feel all warm inside.

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I don’t have any pictures of the hack ‘n slash day we had to placate the Yard Nazi. Sorry. I got into it and totally forgot about it. The real plus is that one of the Yard SS troops came over while wifey and I were clearing one of the fence lines:

“We’re still fri-ends, right?”

Outside voice: “Aww…sure, we under-stand.”
Inside voice: “God, I hope you die soon.”

Cool part of the day was ripping a fence line infested with saplings and small softwood trees out with my truck. Low 4 will make the testosterone level jump by 30% everytime.

Kiss my grass!

2006-06-14T23:23:00.000-04:00

Fuck neighbors.

Fuck them with rusty fan blades.

Here’s why…

I’m out in the yard tonight, trimming the crotch-wood tree that my East-side neighbor refuses to cut out of her fence line and that blocks my view of the alley that the teens in my neighborhood think is a launching pad for drift racing. Along comes a cute female local police officer, walking between our houses towards me.

My first thought is: “Shit…what am I doing wrong.”

She proceeds to ask me which house is mine and I point to the one with the saplings in the gutters…not the one with the fence-line built in 1920 out of cast iron chainlink and wood.

Officer Hotpants tells me that she’s got an ordinance violation reported against East Neighbor and her fence.

No shit.

I go back to hacking at the bush, thinking about how big Officer Hotpants’ tits could be behind the Kevlar vest and if she likes to play “hide the nightstick”.

A few seconds later, she comes back…this time for me.

So…she gives me notice that my property is in violation of local ordinance 06.08.010 for “Unkept Property”. The complaint is for having “tall bushes and weeds in fencing around property and weeds in gutters surrounding residence.”

I freely admit that I’ve got saplings in my gutters. They need a good cleaning, but I haven’t done it because in the next week or so I’m having them replaced along with the roof. Apparently, this isn’t happening fast enough for the busy-bodies in my neighborhood…specifically the new “Block Captain.” Yeah…she’s a yard Nazi.

“Tall bushes and weeds” in my fencing…hmmm…news to me. I’ll take some pictures, maybe tomorrow, so you can tell me what the fuck is wrong with my fence.

Unfortunately, by the time I do that there will be a long strip of brown dead foliage. Shortly after Officer Hotpants and her Kelvar chest left, I took my gallon jug of AgentOrange and laid waste to my fence-line.

The one glimmer of warmth that I cherish and will snuggle up to tonight like the bosom of a large chested woman. I stealing wireless internet from the cunt that turned me in.

Death by Cell Phone

2006-04-26T14:28:00.000-04:00

Rising fuel costs saved my life today.

Kinda different tone than the title of this post...but, it will all fit in a minute.

My name is Kyuball, and I listen to talk radio. NPR, Neal Boortz, Glenn Beck, Sean Hannity, Michael Savage, Laura Ingram, Free Talk Live...to name a few of the shows that I end up listening to. (Any friends of mine that know my real name, just passed out.) I can't help it, I love to hear conservatives and liberals rant. It's a sickness, really. Let me clarify: I don't actively seek out these hosts...well, maybe Savage...they're just on when I want to listen to radio.

Anyway...for the last few weeks, rising fuel costs have been on the lips of most of these talk show hosts. What can we do, who's to blame, Iran must be paved over, Bush is insane...blah, blah, blah. Well, one of the "tips" that continues to be mentioned is to slow down and try not to drive too aggressively and you can save your gas mileage.

So, today, I left work early because my son is sick and took a back road from work to get to the highway. This back road has lots of hills where you can't see over one to the next to see what's coming...so, it's a "no passing zone". Seems reasonable. I use this piece of road often because I can avoid traffic in getting to the interstate.

When I turn on to this road, generally I open it up a bit...not too bad, but I generally hit it at 60 mph...it's a 35mph zone. Today, I decided that I'd cruise it a bit and scaled it down to about 45 - 50mph.

interlude

You know the saying that just before you die, your life flashes before your eyes? I think it's more like a heightened state of awareness. Your brain goes into hyper-mode. I believe that your brain has the ability, in fight or flight situations, to become a mega-super computer that can process millions of calculations in a split second. This doesn't mean your body can react to the signals fast enough...just that the brain tries to. This is probably why people also say that, "It all happened in slow motion."

end interlude

As I came to the second hill, a sliver Buick Le Suckbre, crested the hill from the opposite direction. In my lane...not the two drivers-side tires...no, full on, all fours and more in my lane headed right for me and my little Japanese truck.

In the span of saying, "Holy fucking shit! You fuck, you fuck, you fucking fuck." I experienced a moment of total awareness:

The sun, was partially clouded...and shone through the sun-roof, pleasantly heating my scalp. The radio station was on NPR and the music was a slightly melancholy piano solo. The Le Suckbre was freshly washed and sparkled in the sunlight as it crested the hill. It was driving at a 7%-10% angle to the lane it should have been in which would put it in the grass on my right in less than 40 yards. I'm driving at 47 miles an hour and will be seriously injured if we collide head on. My health insurance card is in the third sleeve of my wallet. The co-pay for emergency room visits are $75. The driver of the Le Suckbre has a cell phone in his hand that he is holding up in the middle of his steering wheel in what appears to be a vain attempt to drive and use his peripheral vision while he A) Finds a phone number in his contacts list. B) Sends a text message. C) Plays Tetris. or D) Drives his car like James bond through his phone, but his controller is inverted. I don't have anti-lock breaks. There is no real shoulder on this part of the road. There is a retention pond on my right, that runs the length of this stretch of road, with a Male Mallard Duck swimming in the middle, he looks at my truck. I apply my breaks at 80% to 90% of full force and turn the wheel sharply. My breaks lock slightly, but do not squeal, the sound is like dragging cardboard over dry dirt. The patch of grass is not too bumpy, I won't flip over, but I may land in the pond after we collide. Water will leak into the cab through the crack in my windshield that's been there for months. I'm still waiting on the insurance company to call me back to inspect my "hail" damage. I'm 15 feet from the other driver. He looks up. I'm far enough over to the right now that he will miss, I turn left slightly so as not to shift my center of gravity too much and flip into the pond. The duck begins to take flight. The LeSuckbre passes me on the left, the driver has dropped his phone, and his mouth is shaped as if he's saying, "Oh..." I think he's going to finish with "...oh I'm a complete fucking moron, please don't beat me with a gas pump handle." I pull back on to the road and see in my driver side mirror the LeSuckbre begin to pull back into his lane, just in time to miss the red Geo Metro(sexual) that was following me. In my passenger side mirror I notice that my tires did not kick up any dust. Probably because of the rain we've had recently.

All of that in the span of less than 3 or 4 seconds.

Had I been doing my usual 60 mph, I wouldn't be typing this right now. I'd be in the hospital having the steering column of a '91 Toyota removed from my colon...maybe worse.

I'm not going to get all sappy on you, suggesting that we all go out and hug our families or live life like every day is your last. Hallmark moments, one and all.

However, I am not going to drive and dial. I would ask that you do the same. If you see someone texting while driving...honk, and flip them off. If they don't look up, pull over and wait 10 minutes...someone's going to be in an accident soon, you don't want it to be you...find a different route to where ever you were going, traffic is going to be backed up soon.

If you happen to see a red Toyota 4x4 parked on the side of the road next to a man beating the fuck out of some one with a cellphone stuffed in a tube sock...honk and wave, I'm visiting your town.

(I just taught spell check the word "LeSuckbre." Aren't computers fun?)

Few and Far Between

2006-04-24T23:45:00.000-04:00

I have been blogging since a little before September of 2005. Not very long, but long enough to get the gist of the program and really get a handle on what I like to read and blog about. It all started...

Ok...let me put a little disclaimer in here before people start to rapidly click on the "next blog" button or start cycling through their "favorites" sites...I'm not about to bore you with my history of blogging. I might bore you, but not about what you think I'm going to bore you about...er, something...ok, continue...

...with tpsreports...a blog by a guy that works in the IT department of an office from hell. Don't go there, the archives have been wiped out...but, it got me thinking that I might just be able to write one of these things and be half-way descent. (The wrong half, but it's still a half.)

So...since September I've been boring you folks with my rants and drivel. Up until now, I've been able to avoid the one topic that almost everyone else I've read has posted about at least once. Blogging. Not that there's anything wrong with that, it just seems like when someone gets writer's block, that's the first topic they go to...so, I was really making an effort to avoid it.

Guess I failed, cause here I am with a case of the writer's block and I'm blogging about blogging.

I've got two collaborative blogs that I write for, one you've seen and one you haven't yet. I'm blocked on those as well. I just haven't been inspired enough to write anything...even comments on my other favorite blogs. Ain't feeling it right now...must be the spring weather, but I'm just not as cranky as I have been in the past...which makes for a decidedly un-cynical, cynical meatsack. Funky.

In closing, I leave you with a few questions I've been pondering recently:

Why does the nation care who the next mayor of New Orleans will be?

What the fuck happened to baseball?

(Related topic: Keith Hernadez made an offcolor remark about a woman having no place in the Mets' dugout...a lot of people were surprised by his comments...blah, blah, blah. I've been in a professional baseball club's clubhouse...that's NO place for a woman. The shit those guys do...holy crap. Let me tell you, take a typical frat house, and turn it to eleven. You're damn right that's no place for a woman...unless she's a stripper, a hooker, or a stripper/hooker.)

When is Harry Belafonte going to finally die?

Have the Brokeback Mountain jokes finally stopped?

(Guess Not)

Why do we want Britney Spears to fail as mother?

When will the entertainment reporters and gossip columnists STOP concatenating celebrity couples names? Bennifer, Bengalina, Tom-Kat...STOP IT, IT'S FUCKING ANNOYING!!!

Wasn't the parade for the San Francisco earthquake just a little bit weird?

Wouldn't you like to get President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, President Hugo Chavez Frias, and President Vicente Fox Quesada in a small room and beat them with the handle of a gas pump while singing God Bless America? (No? Maybe it's just me. )

Would you rather do that with Sean Penn, Katie Couric, and Ty Taylor?

One final comment...

Penn Jillette is a no-talent, ass-clown...but Penn & Teller: Bullshit on Showtime is funnier than a sack a rabid weasels strapped the crotch of a pedophile.

Cynical Meatsack, DST edition

2006-04-03T22:11:00.000-04:00

My mind is like a shotgun blast from 100 yards today, so "bare" with me...

A couple of posts ago I was semi-braggin about the wireless network I hacked into...I prefer the term piggy-back, thanks DKT. Apparently, I'm a complete amateur compared to what some Brits pulled off in London a few years ago. I have a completely new love for Pringles now.

Indiana just began to observe Daylight Savings Time as of 2am Sunday morning. (I think Arizona is now too.) Great. I wanted to devote a whole post to the nightmare that Microsoft Outlook created for the IT group...but, the events that would have been transcribed from that night are already 6 days old and won't be nearly as funny. However, I'll leave this on the table: If I ever again "volunteer" for any "quick" program fixes that need to take place after hours; I've requested the services of several close friends whose job it will be to kick me repeatedly in the man-sack until I come back to my senses.

This past weekend I attended the National Tattoo Association convention in Cincinnati, OH. I've got one tattoo...so, I felt extremely underdressed. There was some amazing artwork there. Here's a couple of pics:

Medusa

definitely, NOT Medusa.

I've got more, but you get the idea.

I'm currently in Atlanta. Me and the family are headed to the new Aquarium tomorrow. The hotel we're staying at offers free wireless...just like at HOME! They also offer free ant colonies and musty rooms. We switched rooms, but only after my loving wife began counting the ants. "That's 9, Honey...oh, no 10 now." Yeah, fun. Now, we're in a nice clean room but I've still got the itches like Chris Rock in New Jack City. Nothing makes be twitch like the thought of bugs crawling on my skin.

(How many of you just scratched something? Yeah, I thought so.)

Whitey McBurger

2006-03-29T23:02:00.000-05:00

Today I had a lesson in racism.

Lesson may be the wrong word...display is probably better. Let me explain.

I just recently moved from one office to another within our facility. Now, I'm sitting in a cube next to a guy I've know for a couple years. He's a mid-twenty something, goofy white guy. Goofy in the sense that his flavor of humor is more shock than funny.

Anyway, we ended up going to lunch today with another guy. There is a burger joint called Culvers nearby, they have really great hamburgers cooked in butter. Oh, the sweet heart clogging flavor!

As soon as we walk in, this friend says in a normal speaking voice:

"Sure is dark in here. Didn't expect that."

The first thing I do is look up at the lights. Then I get it. At first, I can't believe that this dumbass just announced to a restaurant full of black people that he's a racist dickhead. So, what do I do? I try to salvage the coversation and steer it back from the brink of the Nazi party.

I say: "They need to check the lights."

Lame...dear God that was lame.

So that's how the rest of the lunch went as well. He'd sit there and make racial slurs while I tried to find a way to melt into the vinyl seat.

I don't think I'll be going to lunch with Johnny Whitehood again.

In a completely unrelated topic:

Why did they make another Basic Instinct movie? This sequel is about 12 years too late. This plays right into my theory that Hollywood has run out of ideas.

Wireless Networks, The New Cable TV

2006-03-26T23:57:00.000-05:00

IT tip of the Week: Encrypt your wireless network.

Last year, my employers gave me a laptop with internal wireless. The idea is that I needed to have a unit that could be used remotely within our facility and from home. Up until last week, I’d been using it primarily as an ITunes Jukebox.

When I first brought it home I turned on the Wi-Fi just to see if I’d pick up a signal. Nothing. I tried it again two weeks ago…bingo! One of my neighbors has set up a wireless network. And just like Tara Reid’s legs at a Frat Party, they’ve left themselves wide open. I can come and go as I please and I’m fairly certain that they haven’t a friggin clue.

Question: Is it wrong that I’m using my neighbor’s wireless network to access the internet? I am at odds with myself, here. I don’t know which of my neighbors it is that I’m piggy-backing on, but I do feel a slight ting of guilt. Slight, because I’m not doing anything illicit and I’m not running out to set up an Xbox Live account. Ok…by “not doing anything illicit” I’m not referring to looking at naked pictures of Willow from Buffy the vampire slayer…I’m talking about hacking into my neighbor’s computer and other assorted bad things that I probably could do, but don’t really know how.

As a side note: Google Images is a great way to harvest free porn. Go there, type in your fetish, and BAM...here's a group of 30 thumbnails to store in the spank-bank. Just be careful though...you gotta take the good with the bad...and there are some shocking images out there. Just remember the keyword: FREE. You get what you pay for.

Back to my problem. Am I stealing? My neighbor is essentially broadcasting access to his DSL connection in a 50 foot radius. How can it be called stealing if they’re sending the data to me? Alright, so it’s a two way stream and I’m sure that argument wouldn’t hold up in court. But, really, am I being bad? (Besides my grammar, I mean.)

Polar Bears with Sunburn

2006-03-22T23:03:00.000-05:00

Global warming? My fuzzy white ass. Indiana just got buried in snow on THE FIRST DAY OF SPRING! Don’t give me this bullshit that we’re causing our planet to overheat. Sure, we’re dumping a shitload of bad gas into the atmosphere…anyone who’s had the pleasure of eating a 10 sack of White Castle ™ Sliders knows that…but don’t burn SUV’s in protest because you think they’re causing the Inuit’s to hunt for jobs instead of Polar Bears.

Here’s a story I didn’t really read.

I read the headline and immediately came up with this rebuttal. Then I read the story. Still doesn’t change my mind…but, here’s more yammering…

If the climate changes so much that you have to change your lifestyle…then welcome to Evolution 101. Move or die…something many in those African nations where thousands to millions of people are STILL starving have yet to learn. It worked for those half-ape people that originally moved out of Africa all those years ago. They moved because they needed food, and they were tired of being eaten by Tigers. Sounds like motivation.

The planet is changing…is it our fault? Maybe, but driving with the AC off isn’t going to fix it. Think about this for a second: There are approximately *3,356,229,573.33916 cubic miles of air in the troposphere…that’s the air between 0 and 7 miles from the surface. 3.5 billion cubic miles worth of air that we assume we’re fucking up so bad that we’re melting the ice caps…and not idling my truck is going to fix that. Right. Next, I’ll sit down next to Lake Erie and clean out all of the toxins with my Brita…shouldn’t take too long.

You know what I love? When the eco-terrorists burn SUVs. Do you know how many toxins are released when you burn a car? Over half of it is made with plastic. Rubber tires? Yeah, that’s fucking great for the environment…good job! Wow…you really taught them a lesson.

I think it’s completely egotistical to believe we’re having any affect on global warming because we’re burning coal by the tons each hour so I can snap one off while watching reruns of the Golden Girls. The environmentalists need to take a different stand on this. Anyone can roll out an “expert” that will quote page after page of statistics that prove that howler monkeys are the real cause of global warming, but who's going to believe that. It might be true, but then some else will parade out more "experts" that will disprove the howler monkey theory and provide a new theory that points to a subsonic frequency emitted by Katie Curic that breaks down ear wax into a rare gas that turns regular oxygen molecules into ozone killing nanobots that resemble Jay Leno's head.

Here’s another story that makes no sense.

Ok…if I ever had a doubt that Broadway was being run by a bunch of sissy-boys, this story solidifies it.

If you get past the whole frivolous law-suit thing…and if you’ve got half-a-sack or an appreciation for a woman’s chest…you’ll see what I’m talking about. Big tits got this chick fired. Yeah…read the story. Unless this girl was playing the part of an 8-year old, then I can’t possibly see why you’d do this. It’s completely un-American. I know waify girls were in for a while there…and I’m not prejudice against small breasts…athletic bodies are AWESOME…but, she only went up one cup size. How much extra fabric is a D cup from a C?

Keep and eye on this one. If this story gets enough press, she’ll be posing for Playboy.

In a not so unrelated story…my wife’s cup size recently went up from a DD to a DDD. “Oh happy day…”

Sure, she’s got chronic back pain and the reason she knows she went up was because she BROKE an underwire…but, damn…those is some big big titties that I get to hold…and caress…and fondle…and hold…and…nevermind.

*If someone knows if these figures are accurate, please drop me a message. I had to take the surface area of the earth in square KM and convert it to square miles, then multiply it by 7 miles. Sounds reasonable to me…but, I wasn’t the brightest bulb in the pack in math and I’ve never tried to find the cubic volume of a portion of a sphere. Here at Cynical Meat Sack we pride ourselves on manipulating the figures to prove our point.

Jungle Fever

2006-03-13T21:49:00.000-05:00

“There I was, in the Congo.”

Sorry folks, as I’ve mentioned, I’ve been stupid busy at work. I’m transitioning from my current position of “one guy doing three jobs” down to a one job guy and it’s becoming painfully obvious that I’m the only bastard that wants that to happen.

Seriously, I’m so bogged down with other crap that the owners of my company are saying, “Kyu…dude, we need to get you some help.” I appreciate that, but everyone else around me has lost their damn minds. It’s like they all suddenly realized that they weren’t going to have me around anymore so they’ve all upped the dosage of “Quick Questions”.

Little background:

I’m a quasi IT guy. I run our warehouse management system, but I come from the operations side of the fence. Which means I can program it so it works in the real world. Mostly, I’m stuck in the office all day, answering emails, monitoring file transfers, and writing endless reports. (Yeah, TPS reports in triplicate.)

The problem is that I work in an office full of people who know just enough about Windows™ to be dangerously inept.

I swear to the God of Cast Iron Piping that if I hear a phrase that starts with: “Quick question…” again, someone will have their spleen removed with a pickle plucker.

Example A –
Inept Coworker: “Quick question…how do I save a document?”
Me: “Uh…select file and save.”
IC: “Where does it go?”
Me: “Where did you put it? Stick it in your ‘My Documents’, off your desktop.”
IC: (blink-blink) “But, how do I attach it to an email?”
Me: (sigh) “Use a stamp.”

Example B –
Inept Coworker: “Quick Question…My system is locked up.”
Me: “Call IT.”
IC: “Are you locked?”
Me: “No.”
IC: “Can you get your inner-net to work?”
Me: (Sigh…check IE) “Yeah.”
IC: “This stupid system. I can’t get anything done.”
Me: “I know the feeling.”

Some of the other inane things that I got stuck with:

Tours. I give tours of the warehouse. Part of our “business development” process to have our prospective clients come through our facility and meet our SME’s (Subject Matter Experts). I’m the SME for the warehouse. However, not one of the other 12 to 15 SME’s has to give talk for 20 minutes as they walk through a 300,000 sq ft building. Nope, that’s me…was me.

Rate Quotes. I’d give quotes on new warehouse business. How I got this one, I’m not sure. I’m pretty sure it started when I had to figure out how to pull invoices out of the system and I saw how much we WEREN’T making on accounts…then freaked out about it to the owners. Dumb…first rule is to not show that you care about your job.

Newsletter. Oh, this was the best. I wrote an internal newsletter for the company. It’s amazing how impressed people can be if they’ve never used MS Publisher™. “You made this? Nice work, I like the design.” (Bubble Newsletter Design…works every time.) As you can tell, I like to write, but it got to be hard to etch out an hour of time to write some drivel about cooperation, communication, teamwork, or something else business related. “We want to see something more about the Strategic Plan…but, in language the guys in the warehouse will understand.” (Do this shit and you won’t get fired…don’t do it and you’re fired.)

Well…you get the idea. Now I’m moving into strictly the IT side of world so I can concentrate on upgrading and maximizing our system’s functionality. Basically, cruise the internet all day and download porn…occasionally tell Sales “NO” and ask people to submit support requests each time they have a question. Nice, huh.

Before I can start living the good life, however, I have to shift my work load to someone else…three to four other people, actually. I hope to be able to get back into my normal pissing and moaning about bad drivers, muslim zealots, people who say “IDEAL” when they mean “IDEA”, and the world in general soon.

Wow…that really sounds like I’m taking off for a few weeks or quitting blogging. Nope, you’ll probably get an update sooner than that.

Waldo?

2006-03-02T17:25:00.000-05:00

Yeah, I've been out of it for awhile...lurking amongst the many blogs that I read...commenting here and there. I've been really busy with different things and haven't been able to dedicate some time to my little bitch blog.

I wish that I was a bit better at announcing my down periods, like Timmy. Unfortunately, I'm just not sure when it's going to happen.

However, I do have a treat for you. Something to tide you over until I return...which should be in a couple more days.

http://www.shockabsorber.co.uk/uk/

Let the page load and click on Bounce-ometer.

Truthfully...that site is why I haven't posted anything in a week or so.

Enjoy!

50 Foot, Bronze Hooka Pipe

2006-02-16T23:13:00.000-05:00

This story is a bit old, but I’m so friggin sick of the whole Chenney incident that I could puke, so you’re getting old news.

This story comes out of Canada. It’s about a revived proposal to build a monument to U.S. “war resisters”, from the Viet Nam conflict, who fled to Canada instead of being drafted.

It’s a good thing that they want to build it in Canada. You can keep that shit up there.

“But, Kyu, these people were protesting an unjust war…this monument is a testament to their struggle and courage to stand up to the administration.”

Bullshit. They broke the law to save their own asses so they could get high, grow long hair, and fuck each other all day. (Ok…so some of that isn’t all bad, but they still broke the law.) While some poor guy was getting his legs blown off doing his duty to his country, those cowards were jumping ship, fleeing to Canada.

Let’s build a monument to cowards…great idea.

Oh…I know this will ruffle the feathers of my more liberal friends, such as Dan over at
Crallspace. So, let me throw in a little disclaimer here: I’m not saying that speaking out against the government makes you unpatriotic. Nope. I’m saying that if you dodged the draft, you’re a criminal and a coward. Cowards shouldn’t get memorialized.

Sure, some of those guys actually did it as a protest…but the majority fucked off ‘cause they were scared shitless and couldn’t knuckle up and do their duty because they wanted to get stoned instead…so, some other poor shit got stuck in the jungle getting shot.

I remember when I was a kid, probably around 12 or 13 years old. I was at my Grandparents house sitting at the dinner table across from my Grandfather who was a WWII vet. I was spouting off some rhetoric about leaving the country if there ever were another draft, rather than go off to die.

The look that my Gramps gave me was like a slap across my face. It was like I just wiped my ass with the US Flag and started a BBQ with it. He gave me the lecture of my life that day…it was a civics lesson I’ll never forget.

He explained to me what it meant to be an American. How we’re living in the greatest nation in the world, with freedoms that some people will never ever experience. He told me about how he had been wounded by shrapnel fighting in the Pacific theater. He wanted me to realize that, while he hoped that I would never have to experience war, that to run away and turn my back on the call from our nation would be the most cowardly and dishonorable thing a man could do.

The draft dodgers do not deserve a monument. They barely deserve the pardon that Carter gave them. If anything, the veterans that served deserve an apology from these twerps.

As a side note…don’t you think that this whole thing with Chenney is getting blown WAY out of proportion? I’m talking J.Lo, Beniffer, Nick and Jessica out of proportion. The guy shoots his buddy in the face and first thing he’s supposed to do is call a press conference? I don’t remember Clinton calling up Oprah saying, “Hey, you’ll never believe what just happened. I was walking through the Oval office today, my pants fell down, I tripped, and my dick got stuck in the mouth of an intern.”

He made a mistake, one that could have cost his friend his life. If that were my friend the first thing I do is call an ambulance, not a news truck. Yes…it’s news. But, why is it Dick’s job to report it? Isn't that what reporters are for?

Alright, enough ranting. Enjoy your weekend!

Valentines

2006-02-13T23:29:00.000-05:00

Happy VD to everyone!

Please spread the love, one thrust at a time.

Can it fit in the overhead compartment?

2006-02-09T21:45:00.000-05:00

A friend of mine over at Humming Bird on Speed passed me this story to Kyuballify. Greasefire is a great storyteller, so I’m not sure why he’d think I’d do any better with this...but, since I update my blog more often then he does, here goes.

The gist of the story is that Columbian drug smugglers were caught smuggling heroin in the bodies of Labrador puppies.

When I first read this, I thought: So what? Am I supposed to be surprised? Columbian coke-whores have been smuggling junk in their bodies for decades now. Why not in the bodies of pets too? It’s a bit ironic that they used Lab’s since their great drug dogs, but other than that…so what.

Here’s what my twisted mind eventually worked out: The “War on Drugs” is finally showing signs of a pay-off. It’s working. It’s got to be, the drug lords are running out of ideas on how to smuggle drugs into America.

Coffee: played out, it doesn’t fool the dogs…Axel totally lied!
Balloons: done
Aerosol cans: dead giveaway
Butt plugs: too obvious
Hidden compartments in luggage: way too obvious.

All that was left is puppies. Right? How unbelievably obvious can you be with out having a coat entirely lined with Weed? I’m not up on my AKC research, but I don’t think that Columbia is well known for it’s puppy exports. So, why did these brainiacs think that they could get puppies through?

“Juan, chu know wha will work? Puppies, mayn. Puppies, stuffed wit junk. We jees need to git a betrinarian por to sew it in.”

“Aye poppie, et bery good idea. Pass de chainsaw.”

Coincidentally, Hollywood has run out of ideas for screenplays. I present the following movies that should not have been remade…ever: Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner, When a Stranger Calls, The Poseidon Adventure, Sabrina, The Nutty Professor, Dr. Doolittle, The Pink Panther, and Batman and Robin. Ok, that last one wasn’t really a remake, but damn it sucked worse than having a paper cut under your finger nail.

Guess Who probably bugs me the most out of all of those. I’m a big fan of Sidney Poitier and Spencer Tracy and that flick did not need remade. It was, in my opinion, iconic and released at a time when our country needed to see a movie like that. I don’t care how funny the new one is…it pisses on the original.

Next, they’ll remake Patton. Only the character of Patton will be played by an Australian actor with a fake Southern accent and shot on location in New Zealand.

This past weekend.

2006-02-06T23:15:00.000-05:00

I got a few things here, and none of them are related, so bear with me and my disjointed mind:

This past weekend I attended a two day seminar on Shorei Goju Ryu karate. Great stuff. This is a style that I’m currently studying and it was great to get all the schools together.

I must be a sadist at heart, though. I’ve got bruises all up and down my poor body from all the pressure points that were lit up. Two sessions in particular: Small Circle Jujitsu and Free Form Bunkai. Bunkai is traditionally an interpretation of Kata…which to those who don’t know is similar to Tai Chi movements only with more force. Bunkai is the “attacker” to Kata. Free Form Bunkai takes it to a new level because you add in arm bars, finger locks, and throws. Nasty.

Small Circle Jujitsu is just pure hate. Lots of joint manipulation. My fingers, specifically my pinkie and ring fingers, were bent in so many different positions I thought for a moment that the bones had disappeared. I also learned a technique that involves the “love handles” that will make you slap your momma.

So, for those that were looking for an update to Just Waking…I’ll get to that later tonight.
---------------
Super Bowl half-time show. What the fuck has happened to this? Janet flashes some tit and the whole show gets knocked into the middle ages…like late 60’s. The Rolling Stones. I bitched about this at the beginning of the season and here we go again. You guys knew I’d hit on that again, didn’t you?

So…they opened the season with “Start Me Up”, and some new song that sounded like drivel. They end the season on: “Start Me Up” and some new song that sounded like drivel. Oh…but, it’s a three song set…so naturally they play “Satisfaction”.

Only, part of the song sounded like Elmer Fudd suddenly appeared on stage:

“And I twy…and I twy…and I twy…and I twyyyy!”

WTF?

At least it wasn’t Gretchen Wilson. Hag.

-----------

Right…so I bitched about this last week, and I hate to blog about the same thing twice. However:

What in the fuck is wrong with the Muslim world? I’m sure you all heard that several people…5 or 6 last I heard…DIED over these stupid cartoons. Dead…deceased...gone from this plane of existence over a friggin cartoon.

Whywhywhywhywhywhywhy?!?!?! What in the name of your Muhammad are you people doing? Can’t you have a peaceful demonstration that doesn’t end up with the fire-bombing of an embassy or the declaration of a Jihad on entire nations of people?

Are you people that fucking ignorant? No, really. Are you that fucking pathetic that you froth at the mouth like a rabid badger over a drawing? Who in the world will ever take you seriously…to give you respect…when you animals can’t debate without throwing rocks at each other.

And where are all the celebrities in Hollywood on this one? So Bush is from the devil and he’s taking our civil rights away. Debatable, yes. However, he’s a far cry from this fanatical bullshit. Where’s Tim Robbins on this? Haven’t heard a word from Sean Penn…of course he’s probably busy with his brother…I’ll let that one slide. Where are all the people who cry out against censorship in America and denounce the war?

They’re shutting the fuck up right now. They don’t want to anger their buddies. They don’t want to speak out against the people they’ve been supporting for the last few years…that would send the wrong message.

Here’s the best part. The protesters ALWAYS try to write a few banners in English…and they fuck it up 90% of the time. I couldn’t screen grab the pictures I saw on MSNBC today, but there were several of protesters with signs in Engrish™. Here’s a sample of the few that I saw:

“Go to the Hell Denmark.” – Outside Danish Embassy, Jakarta
(Sounds too much like: “Go to your room.”)

“No Est – No West, Islam is at best.” – Kyderabad, Pakistan
(First I thought that this was written partially in Spanish…then I read the rest a few times before I got it.)

“Europe lacks respect for others.” – London, England
(Now…this was very well written, printed out at a local Kinko’s I imagine. It was the phrase that got me. Because the Arab nations have NOTHING but respect for other countries…they haven’t been bombing themselves into caves for thousands of years…nooooo. The followers of Islam are nothing but respectful of the Infidels.)

“Together to protect our prophet 'Peack be up on him' "- Sudanese Muslims, Khartoum.
(K the new E.)

I’m sure that the people in Denmark are all sitting around shitting their pants full of chocolate tulips over this. “How did we suddenly become the U.S. of Europe? Everyone in the Muslim world hates us?” Of all the nations in Europe, Denmark became the asshole of Islam? How does that work? Crazy shit.

In closing: If you and your religion can’t teach anything but violent intolerance then FUCK YOU AND FUCK YOUR RELIGION, you ignorant lemmings.

America, Home of the FREE

2006-01-30T22:02:00.000-05:00

This is the greatest country on Earth.

The more I look around at the stories coming from different areas of the world, the more it solidifies this point of view for me. Sure, we’ve got corrupt politicians, drug gangs, child predators, and Katie Curic.

But when was the last time Pepsi declared a Jihad on Coke for one of those snappy commercials that denounced the “Pepsi Generation”? You don’t see too many Kellogg’s delivery trucks full of C4 crashing into the Post Cereals’ headquarters. I don’t think I’ve read one story of a Viking’s fan strapping pipe bombs to his shorts and diving into a crowd of Cheese Heads. The Pope didn’t issue a religious decree calling for the death of Kevin Smith for his Buddy Christ statue in the movie Dogma?

I can tell this joke:

“Why do all the trees in Indiana lean toward the South?”

“Because Kentucky sucks.”

And I don’t have to worry about a Wildcats alumni kidnapping a Hoosier and cutting off his head.

I caught this story out of Denmark. Apparently, some cartoonists drew a few caricatures of the “Prophet” Mohamed that offended a few people, as in entire Islamic nations.

Now, I’m not sure - I could be wrong, but I don’t think everyone in Denmark and the surrounding countries had a hand in creating these images. However, as we’ve seen with these crazy sand-monkeys, they group all the Vikings into one nice neat package of Norse targets and issue several statements that no one from that area will be safe in the Middle East.

--Side note: Does anyone who looks Danish feel safe traveling in the Middle East? Seriously. 6’ 4” tall, pale white, blond haired men and women walking around Saudi Arabia in wooden shoes…you can’t paint a bigger target than that. Well, maybe if they were wearing Mickey Ears.

I think it’ll come as no surprise that Gaza gunmen claimed that they would attack any Norwegians in the area. Gaza, the peaceful strip of land that it is? Violence there? Say it ain’t so!

Peace in the Middle East is a pipe(bomb) dream. These people have absolutely no concept of what freedom is and they don’t truly want it. They fear it worse than soap and carb free diets. Those that really DO want freedom, move here…then talk shit about the country and burn our flag. Why? Because they can and no one will cut their clits off.

Before I get the hate comments on me for lumping all the followers of Islam into one big Happy Meal™ of targets…it’s my blog, Fuck Off! But, I’ll clarify…when I say THEY…I mean all the zealots who refuse to have a mind of their own and BLINDLY follow a religion and RELIGIOUS LEADERS that promote hate and violence against people who don’t follow their ideals. If you want to write a rebuttal on our nation’s history of doing the same thing – see Native Americans, slavery, Hawaii, and Canadian Football…feel free. But while you’re writing your nice essay on how bad this Country sucks, just remember that in some countries you’d have your hands cut-off and your mouth sewn shut for speaking out against your “leaders”.

For all it's faults, this country still is the greatest this world has ever seen.

Birth-iversary

2006-01-25T23:44:00.000-05:00

Today I celebrate my 34th birthday.

And my eight year Anniversary.

Guys...don't do this. I completely suck when it comes to remembering dates. I thought I'd be slick and get married on my birthday so that I'd never forget the day. Stupid.

Do you know why? Because it's not my day anymore. Sure, that's completely selfish...but, hey that's what a Birthday is about. The wifey has been really good about making sure that I get more "attention"...more so this year than in the past. Still, I miss it just being about me.

In hindsight, I would've been screwed anyway: My son's birthday is tomorrow.

That's it...I'm spent. I was going to go on for a few more pages on this, but I'm done like a dinner. One of the presents I got for my birth-iversary this year was a cold and it's whoopin my ass somethin' fierce. I'll try to update this sorry assed blog in the next couple of days.

Check out some of the more interesting bloggers linked on the right, but use some anti-bacterial lotion before you leave.

Double Secret Probation V.1

2006-01-18T22:52:00.000-05:00

If you have ever seen the list for the colleges that throw the best parties, you would never find this college. In fact, I’m sure that if there is a list of the most repressed and restrictive, Liberty College in Virginia would rank in the top 5…and that would be including military academies and juvenile detention centers. (I was close, it’s actually ranked as the number 7 in the top ten conservative colleges in the United States.)

Their web site lists infractions against the school rules and the disciplinary actions associated with them. These are listed, I assume, in order of low to high in severity.

Most of these read like they’re straight out of Footloose:
- Attendance at a dance
- Music code violation

While others are vague and could be interpreted in many different ways:
- Improper social behavior
- Unauthorized room change
- Spending the night with a person of the opposite sex
(Sorry, Mom…I can’t visit, it’ll cost me $500.)
- Entering entryway of opposite sex on campus or allowing the same
(My personal favorite because this is definitely fornication…
go ahead, read it again, you’ll see.)

Here are some that are almost clinical in how they describe the infraction:
- Academic dishonesty
- Unauthorized borrowing (This is stealing, right?)
- Deception

With that in mind, it’s a wonder that this made the list, twice:
- Horseplay
- Malicious horseplay/behavior

Unless, of course, they’re referring specifically of random games of Polo or impromptu rodeos that are the scourge of college campuses everywhere.

Then there are the Christian rules:
- Abortion
- Failure of three Christian/Community Services without reconciliation
- Immorality
- Involvement with witchcraft, séances or other occultic activities

All four are grouped under the harshest penalties…they’re grouped with infractions like rape, assault, weapons possession.

Then there’s the pictures of what is “acceptable” and what is not. The girls, however, only get a description and a link to an article on modesty, written presumably by a student who realized it was “HER FAULT” that her “BROTHERS” fell to temptation (she calls it “stumbling”) because of what she wore.

(“Sorry, Chrissy, the Lord says it’s your fault that you were gang-raped by the Lacrosse Team. You shouldn’t have worn those tight jeans.”)

I can’t imagine any kid actually wanting to attend this college. Every one of these poor souls have parents who don’t want to see their kids on “Girls Gone Wild”…which I can understand…however, when do we turn over the responsibility for a teen’s actions TO the teen?

These rules apply to all students, so a 22 year old senior, someone legally old enough to drink in any bar, can’t. It’ll cost them $500 and 30 hours of community service…then they can still kick you out.

And he/she would get caught, especially if one of the other college zealots sees him/her. It’s in the school moto, “The Honor Code™”, to uphold the rules and report anyone seen committing an infraction…if you don’t and they find out that you knew about it, then you suffer the same consequences.

It’s a little collegiate police state. The Anti-Fun Gestapo is looking for a few good informants.

Oh…check out the Judicial Board. Made up of two students, and three faculty members…majority vote wins.

You don’t say…wonder who’ll win?

“Liberty College: where all your liberties are stripped.”

On a final note, I was going to provide a Kidney Stone update regarding Shatner's, but Sarah broke that one in the last post's comments. Still funny, though. And I still haven't given birth yet.

My Weekend

2006-01-15T22:13:00.000-05:00

Nephrolithiasis. Sounds like a former Roman emperor, right?

Nope. This is one of the clinical terms for having kidney stones.

Back in 2002, I passed one of these little bastards in the ER. The ER? Well, yeah, you see…for those that have never had one…this is a really painful process. You’re “passing” a rock from your kidney to your bladder and then you “pass” it from your bladder to whatever you use to catch piss to prevent it from landing on your floor.

I have to take a pause here to point out that “pass” is such a light term to use for this process. The pain involved ranks above “pass”. It’s more like a forcible ejection. The stone is like a belligerent drunk getting kicked out of a club…only he doesn’t want to leave. So, he scrapes and claws at everything he can on his way out.

For me, the most painful leg of the stone’s journey is from the kidney to the bladder. Mostly it feels like a muscle spasm. Sometimes, more like a knifing.

This weekend I’ve been enjoying the latter stages of forcible ejection. Kidney to bladder wasn’t too bad this time, I woke up thinking that I had slept wrong. An hour later, I got that funny feeling like I had a small blockage…yeah, that feels like sitting on your sack, guys. That’s when I knew I’d be having another stone soon.

Something that isn’t taught in public schools about kidney stones…once you have one…you’ll have more. You’re a lifer. So, once the first stone drops, the quarry is open for business.

There are plenty of things that you can do to prevent them. Cranberry juice is a fan favorite. I like mine with a little Grey Goose…but, that messes with my acid reflux. So, mostly I stick with drinking about half a gallon of water a day. This works, for the most part. I haven’t had a stone in almost a year.

Here’s what the last one looked like:

I passed this little jewel at work. It actually came out in TWO parts. The other chunk is lost for ever. I was standing there peeing and praying to the Almighty that I'd finally pass the geoad that I'd been carrying around on hold for 5 days. And then it happened. Actually moving the stone through the urinary tract doesn't register until those final few inches, then...well, I'm not sure how to describe it exactly...except like your dick is vomiting...minus the dry heaves, burning throat, and abdominal cramping. Graphic, I know, but there really isn't anything in my frame of reference that I can use that's similar. Anyway, so my cock shoots out the first bit of shale that shakes me so bad that my aim goes high and I literally bounce it off the rim and it lands on the floor. His brother came out with much less aggravation and a small splash. I let him go, but the other one got washed off and shown around the office.

That’s right, I keep them. Gross you say? Why shouldn’t I keep them? Anything I worked that hard to produce ain’t getting flushed down the shitter. Besides, the wife has always wanted a rock garden, this way will save me the trip to Lowes.

In conclusion…as I sit here and patiently await the birth of yet another present from the seven dwarves working the mine in my kidney, I ask you for a moment of silence for my Colts who couldn’t turn it around today and got beaten by the Steelers. Flashbacks of ’95 still haunt our fair city.

Art vs. Porn...UPDATE

2006-01-11T23:11:00.000-05:00

To continue the saga of the pornographic Children’s Map, I recently received an email from the US Distributor. In it there contained an email from the Manager of the company in Italy that created the map.

Below is the email with my commentary inserted:

-----Original Message-----
From: XXXXXXMaps Info [mailto:info@XXXXXXXmaps.t-com.hr]
Sent: Tuesday, January 10, 2006 9:40 AM
To: somedude@somemaps.com
Cc: someotherdude@usdistributor.com
Subject: Customer Complaint -explanation

Dear [Dude],
with the reference to the email you sent us yesterday and it refers to the complaint from one of the customers, it is important to point out several important issues.
--This is probably the most polite way that I’ve ever seen someone write “Stupid American, let me explain why the world hates your country…”--

For the start we must say that we are very surprised by the reaction from your market.
--He’s not surprised at all, he wrote this letter 9 months ago and has had it shelved waiting for the first complaint.--

The disputable element that the customer says it is inappropriate for a"children's map", presents the satellite Magellan that is mapping of the surface of Venus by radar technology and it entered the orbit of Venus on 10-08-1990.
--I love the amount of detail that he felt he needed to add. I’m disappointed, however, that he did not mention that Megellan was launched by the US...and created mostly in Denver.--

We have decided to present this satellite by using the famous paint of Botticelly that shows The Birth of Venus and this famous artwork hangs in the Uffizi gallery in Florence.
--His typos, not mine.--

This is not a photo of a naked woman, but a famous artwork painted by famous Sandro Botticelli. This is a world known painting and it is always presented in this way, so we have not done anything wrong here by presenting it in this way and by educating children.
--Here’s where I’m going to have to argue with him. You see, Botticelli’s painting depicts Venus as a red haired woman, standing inside a large seashell. Her right arm is covering both her breasts and her left arm and hair is covering her “nether” regions. The caricature on the map depicts a blond woman, kneeling on what could be a shell, but looks more like a pool floaty. Both her arms are spread out as if she’s doing the “Y” in the YMCA dance. In my opinion, if this is supposed to be Botticelli’s Venus, then it would be called “Venus Gone Wild”. Granted, her entire form on the map is smaller than the size of a pencil eraser…but still, he’s stretching it just a bit when he says that it's "always presented this way." Maybe by Monty Python...I could see that.--

We must say that we are also stunned by the reaction of the person from[Club Store] and we are wondering if this person has taken a look at the map and has checked what does it present!?
--Ok…obviously they don’t have club stores in Italy. He’s lucky that the store manager even knows what a map is.--

It is not a problem for us to remove this element, however, we will not do it because we think it is not appropriate, but in order to meet the expectations and to correct it if you think it is wrong.
--I wouldn’t correct it, either. However, I know that they made several other changes on other maps for the American market…such as the US Map, Martin Luther King Jr was depicted on an earlier version with lips bigger than his hands…he looked like Elmer Fudd after his gun exploded in his face. The PC crowd would have "exploded" all over that one. Then there was the Calvary riding towards the cowering Indians. So, their maps have been thoroughly PC’d to pieces.--

In any case, if this will be the reason for [Club Store] to terminate our cooperation, we must point out that we are having a huge damage here andnot just us, but you and [Club Store] as well, because we have had a verysuccessful cooperation and this element is nothing else, but an educational element that pupils learn about in the schools.
--I highly doubt that a store manager has the pull to declare that “the entire chain will no longer carry these maps.” Again, the manager was telling the crazy lady what she wanted to hear so she’d get out of his store faster.

Quick Story: When I was an Assistant Manager at a Toy Store, I had a child running around the store once…well, no that happened every single day…but on this particular day, this boy tripped over a pile of action figures that he had made while running through the store. When he fell, he bumped his head on the corner of a shelf.

His mother came up to me and said:
“My son just fell.”

Me: [Trying to be jovial and big brother-ish to the boy] “Ohhh, hey you’ll be ok, rub it out big guy.”

Mother: [Not impressed] “He hit his head on this shelf. Do you see how this corner sticks out?”

Me: “Hmmm. Yeah, that sticks out a bit.”

Mother: “You need to fix that. You shouldn’t have sharp objects like that where kids can hurt themselves.”

Me: [Starting to warm up for the fight.] “Wow. You’re right.” [I take my pen out of my pocket and throw it into the back room.] “Sorry, too sharp.”

Mother: “That’s not funny. Let me speak to your manager.” [My favorite line.]

Me: [All smiles] “Yes." [dramatic pause] "How may I help you.”

Mother: [Blink-Blink] “When I come back here, you better have all these shelves changed or else.”

Me: [Can you feel the climax coming on?] “Or else what?”

Mother: [Indignantly] “I’ll sue.”

Me: [Here it comes, get your feet set.] “On the grounds that our store is not completely made of Nerf? That our store is at fault because your son has the grace of club footed armadillo? Or maybe the store is at fault because we weren’t watching your son as he ran through the store like a gerbil on crack?”

Mother: [gasping] “I don’t have time for this! Fix your store or I’ll have you fired and I'll own this store!” [Grabbing her boy who’s staring gapped mouth at me.]

Me: [All smiles again, waving as she leaves] “Have a great day and do be careful, don’t stub your toe as you get on the escalator…or bump your elbow on a sign…[yelling] or trip and break your leg on your lawyer!”

OK…back to the email.--

Thank you very much for listening, [Dude], and your patience, we are looking forward to hearing back from you very soon.
--IE: "Don't bother me again with this bullshit, stupid American Dog."--

Best regards,
[Foreign Dude]
General Manager

Bag of Ass and Called out.

2006-01-06T23:42:00.000-05:00

The company I work for usually receives several metric tons of food gifts from vendors around the Christmas/New Year holiday week. These are promptly distributed amongst the mensch of the front office. I tend to invade this area and harvest as many spoils as I can.

While on my many expeditions for oranges and unidentifiable chocolates I came across a bag of chips...well I assumed that they were chips:

My first thought was..."These chips must taste like ass." Not just any ass, though, we're talking vegetarian ass. I've hung out with herbivores before, and they've got some of the worst gas than the heartiest of meat eaters.

So, as you can imagine, I passed on trying the "Gourmet" puffs of vegan ass with "Spinach and Kale".

Next, apparently Leesa has called me out on her blog. She practically begged me to do this, so blame her for the vulgarity that will soon grace your monitor...or, God willing, your conference room projector.

Without further ado...here's a picture of my 6" pen is, erect:

"I find your lack of faith disturbing."

Art vs Porn

2006-01-04T21:48:00.000-05:00

I was originally going to show you pictures of a really obscene snack food that I saw over the holiday weekend, but this afternoon my boss brought me something that I just had to share with the blog world.

Below is a letter my company received from a disgruntled mother who purchased an item from one of our clients. Obviously, she could only get our address and we’re just a distribution center…more on (moron?) that later.

(I’ve changed the names and places to protect the ignorant…and my job.)

December 29, 2005

TO: [Map Company]
C/O [Kyuball’s Company]
[1234 w. 1st street]
[Midwest, ST 00000]

FROM: [Ignorant Bitch]
P.O. Box [558]
[West Cost City, NorthWest State 00000]

RE: Children’s Map of the Solar System
Sold in [Club Store] late spring 2005

On the 26th of December, 2005, I returned this map to [Club Store] in [NorthWestern City and State]. I spoke with the Assistant Manager, [Wimpy Limp-dick], who can be reached at [555-555-5555].

This product came packaged with two (2) maps: One (1) of the solar system; One (1) of the world. I had given the world map away as a present. The solar system map went to my nine year old son.

Upon my son’s exploration of your “children’s map,” he found a naked woman beneath the satellite: Magellan (to the left of the sun). The image is very small, but clearly identifiable. What does this say to our children-that satellite dishes are watching naked women?

This is entirely inappropriate for a “children’s map.” [Club Store] refunded my money 9which I wasn’t asking for) and assured me they would no longer be carrying your products in the future.

[illegible signature]

CC: [Club Store in Purchased City]
CC: New York Newspaper, Consumer Affairs, New York City, NY
CC: ABC and NBC Television, Consumer Affairs, [nearby major city]
CC: [Home State] Attorney General, [City Capitol, Home State]

Ok. Before I get to the pictures, let me destroy…I mean, present a brief rebuttal on the text of the above letter:

“This product came packaged with two (2) maps: One (1) of the solar system; One (1) of the world.”
Why did she spell out the numbers AND place them in parentheses? She’s not a lawyer and this is not a contract…she should have also placed her son’s age in parentheses.

“I had given the world map away as a present.”
What a cheap ass bitch. Ok…she’s not fooling anyone. She bought this in the SPRING…even if it were “Late Spring” that’s May or June. So, she’s been sitting on this for nearly 6 months. Yeah, right. Her brat didn’t want the world map, he just wanted Buck Rodgers…which means one of her nephews got a world map stuffed in a paper bag.

“Upon my son’s exploration of your ‘children’s map,’...”
There’s an image.

“What does this say to our children-that satellite dishes are watching naked women?”
No, satellites beam pictures of naked women to our television sets so that daddy can crank one off because he can’t get it up for mommy’s flabby ass anymore.

“…refunded my money 9which…”
Not my typo, it was hers.

“CC: New York Newspaper, Consumer Affairs, New York City, NY”
Ok, I love that she copied this to all these organizations…but the Newspaper is the best. What newspaper exactly? From what I can find, there is no “New York Newspaper”. She named every other agency by it’s specific name…except the newspaper.

Before I go on to the pictures, I want to remind you of one bit of text: “…he found a naked woman beneath the satellite: Magellan…”

Magellan…hmm, where did the Magellan probe go?

Disclaimer: I took these with my phone's camera, so spare me the lecture on composition.

Here’s a picture of the map: (The red circle is where the obscene satellite is located)

The Map is 54” x 38”…that’s 4.5 feet long, and over 3 high. Not a small poster.

Here’s a picture of the Magellan Satellite above the planet VENUS.

Here’s another picture of the satellite, this time I used a magnifying glass to boost the picture of the naked woman.

Here’s a bigger picture of the woman.

So, the caricature of the Magellan satellite is taking pictures of a naked woman standing on a shell. Now, where have I seen that before?

Oh…right.

Dumb, ignorant, close-minded, twit.

After making fun of this letter for an hour to co-workers and friends, I actually started to get mad. Someone this stupid was really trying to start a nationwide issue over a picture smaller than Eisenhower’s head on a dime.

What did I do? I tried to find this woman. First stop, Google. Winner! She has a website. She’s a paid speaker and has been published. She’s got several degrees and certifications in a few areas.

Most importantly…she’s uglier than Pug with a hairlip.

I’d share her web site with you…however, I’m sure that more than a few of you would contact her and give her the “what for”…then my cover would be blown and I really don’t want to lose my job over someone like this.

Anyway, this is getting way too long for my normal postings and I’m sure I’ve lost a few of you already. I’ll leave you with this: Don’t rely on the world to educate and raise your children, do it yourself.

Gear Head

2005-12-27T21:41:00.000-05:00

First off, thanks to everyone who gave me a shout off that last post. I hope you all had a great holiday weekend!

Now, on to our regularly scheduled post…

I’m such a gear junkie. I mean a straight up material ‘ho. I just love getting stuff. So, you know, Christmas is the most wonderful time of the year for ‘Ol Kyu.

This year is no exception.

I got an IPod this year. Ohohoh…not just an IPod, but a Video IPod…30 Gig. I’m looking at this thing right now and I’m in awe of it. It’s smaller than my wallet and has more disc space than my PC. Well, almost more space.

I’ve been fighting the whole IPod wave. I actually got an MP3 player for Christmas about 4 years ago and exchanged it. Back then, I just wasn’t into that kind of “stuff”. It was…and to a certain extent still is…video games. But, it was more than that:

There’s this weird thing that happened to me when I became a parent…I stopped tuning out the world. My awareness for my environment suddenly jumped to Ludicrous Speed. I’m not talking about saving dolphins, but just my view of my immediate area.

“Was that the baby?”

“Do you smell smoke?”

“I need to move my keys, the baby might poke his eyes out.”

“Don’t give the baby a neckless, he might use it to escape from his crib, snag it on a pacifier and loose his grip to fall into a carelessly placed glass of water and drown!”

Some people may call that paranoia…I call it the “Law of Averages”.

So for a while now, I didn’t want to have anything that might block me from hearing when something was “amiss”.

I’m over it now.

And now I’ve got this Video IPod. I’m slowly venturing out onto the internet to find all the Hacks and Mods that I can find for it. My first so far has been a freeware tool that allows you to correctly format several different media files into the “MP4” structure that IPods require for videos. Not much of a Hack, but it allows me to watch all four seasons of Red Vs. Blue and downloaded porn flicks. Next will be the car adapter, then skins, and probably a dock.

No, I will not be watching videos while I drive…maybe the porn, but that’s it.

I had the same “toy problem” with camping gear.

I went on a hiking trip a few years back on the Appalachian Trail with my brother and a good friend. (Oh, you’ll get stories about that trip, don’t worry.) We “trained” for nearly two years, hiking and camping every weekend, read books, joined a hiking club full of folks that had hiked the trail and gathering up gear.

Oh, the glorious gear! In the course of 2 years the three of us collectively purchased 7 tents, 5 sleeping bags, 5 backpacks, 5 water filters, 6 pairs of boots, 7 camp stoves (we built 6 to 8 others out of soda cans that didn’t make the trail), 35 waterproof stuff sacks, 9 hiking poles, 12 Nalgene™ water bottles of various sizes, 4 water bladder drinking systems, 6 different knives/camp tools, 2 shovels, and tested 47 different food stuffs…including the foul tasting “energy gel” shot packet of caffeine and other “performance enhancing” supplements, that we all pretended worked but really didn’t. My wife thought I lost my mind and was preparing to start up a militia and move to the woods. Excluding the guns and mindless zealots to lead, I was close to achieving that goal.

But, I digress…that’s how I get sometimes. I focus on a “hobby” and go ape shit collecting as much junk as I can for it.

Another example: I purchased, not one, but two $40 “light guns” for my Xbox this year. Anyone who knows their Xbox games will know that there are only 2 games for the Xbox that use the light gun. So, why did I buy two? John Woo, baby. You gotta use two guns.

I’ve got to find a way to break this cycle, because I’ve got more clutter than a single human family should have. Until that day comes, I’ll just watch my Revenge of the Sith on a 2” x 1.5” screen until my eyes bleed out.

At least I don’t have a Blackberry.

Days that Suck

2005-12-19T23:38:00.000-05:00

You ever had a day where you just knew that it would suck before you even got out of bed? Yeah, that was today for me.

Now, nothing monumentally bad happened today. No one close to me died, my house didn’t burn down, I wasn’t in a car accident, I didn’t lose any limbs, and my wife didn’t sleep with the neighbor…today.

It was just the little things today that piled up like mounds of horse shit at the State Fair…no matter how careful you are, you still end up stepping in it.

First, it’s bloody friggin cold…like 5 degrees. I’m ok with just cold. Somewhere between 20 and 30 degrees, I’m fine. Once you get into single digits, it sucks to breath. My skin tightens up, my contacts begin to fog…no really, they do, and my lips chap faster than Sean Penn at a Kodak convention. (That was a weak analogy and I apologize…it’s a shitty day.)

On the way to work, no matter what lane I chose, it became the slow one.

Once I got to work, it was one problem after another. I’m a quasi-IT guy, so I get those, “Why can’t I save this to my email?” and “I saved it, but now I can’t find it.” questions. It’s amazing how difficult it is to grasp the subtle intricacies of using Word® and Outlook®.

Then I realize that I left my phone at home, which is good and bad. Good, because I hate that little demon box...but, bad because I actually have to answer my land line at work. So, the client calls and emails start to come in.

First call, I drop my hands-free set, before I can hang it on my ear. The headset auto-answers when you pick it up from the base, so my caller hears the head set hit the floor and bounce under my desk and me grunting as I attempt to squat and reach it. Then as I try to put the headset on and crawl back out from underneath my desk at the same time, I crack my head on the bottom of the desk.

Something like this:

*ring*…click…*thwack*

*pat*pat*

“Groan”…*shuffle*

*WHAM!* “Oh, muthafucknsonofabitchpeiceofshitstickintheass”

“Ahem…This is [Kyuball], good morning.”

First client issue: client didn’t inform the box maker that the rush job they were working on feverishly through the weekend was cancelled. Box maker calls me to finalize some artwork specs and I get to be the asshole to break the news to him.

Second client issue:

For the last two weeks I’ve been working on “fixing” an error, that was in truth my fault, which caused the re-labeling of 60,000 units of an item with a non-scannable UPC barcode. Well, I fixed it, and I began sending out a packet to 1200 drug stores with instructions and new labels to 700+ stores on Friday.

The address list was provided by my client, who received from the customer. I specifically asked…twice, no less…if this was the most up to date list AND represents all the stores that require new labels. “Yes” was the answer, both times.

Guess who started calling us today: FedEx.

Guess what they wanted: accurate addresses and phone numbers.

So, I ask a THIRD time…the answer: “Oh, the client says that any address on the list without a phone number is a future location…please don’t send packets to these locations.” No shit...thanks for the update there Nancy Fucking Drew, did you come up with that all on your own? Never mind the whole, "This absolutely must go out as soon as possible" crap that I had to endure for the past two weeks...then, nonchalantly..."Oh...never mind those...la-di-da..." I hope she catches Ass-clap from a rusty mophead.

I won’t continue the count down, as I’m sure several of you have already skipped to the end, but suffice to say there were a few more. “Few” meaning more than four, less than fifty.

Oh…and sales was at it, once again. There’s a new guy who thinks that once he’s landed a new client, he’s done. Yeah…don’t bother telling the people who have to KEEP the client what they need to PROVIDE the client. Jack-hole.

Then…mom calls. I love my mother, she’s done more for me than I could ever repay…but, I’ve become her panic call. When she can’t get something done, she calls me. So, I go…no matter what it is…I go. It’s just that sometimes, it’s a wasted trip. Like tonight.

I won’t go into the details, this post is already too damn long…hell, I don’t even want to re-read it.

And the Colts lost yesterday. San Diego did NOT beat them…they beat themselves. Oh, well. The wheels on the bandwagon still roll.

I’ll try to post something more substantial for the 6 of you who actually read this drivel.

Two things that made me giggle

2005-12-14T22:18:00.000-05:00

I was driving to work the other morning and spotted an absurdity that had to be a joke. It was a Dark Blue Chrysler PT Cruiser with a Misfits logo on the rear windshield. Not just a small bumper sticker, I'm talking a sticker the size of trash can lid.

Why is this strange?

Well, the Misfits were an underground punk band from the 80’s that still hasn’t died yet. It’s one of those bands who were considered talentless retards when they came out, but now their thought of as “pioneers”. A PT Cruiser is a car that tried to market to the younger crowd, but was embraced by middle-aged soccer parents.

So, putting a Misfits logo on a PT Cruiser is like putting your grandma in Hip Hop Gear and taking her to a club. It just doesn’t look right. Kind of like Michael Douglas in Basic Instinct when he’s dancing in the club with Sharon Stone. Just something wrong about that…he looked uncomfortable trying to dance.

Anyway…straying…

The other thing I saw driving, and oh I wish I had a camera…

I rolled up to a stop light and this giant Yuko-burban-lade pulled up next to me thump’n loud like everyone else in a four state radius wants to hear that shit…and I notice this clown has got graffiti graphics all over the vehicle. Across the windows, all along the sides, and as he pulled away I saw that they were on the back as well.

It was one giant rolling advertisement for an All-White Rap group. How do I know that it’s an All-White group? The graphics on the rear were of these joker’s picture. You haven’t lived until you’ve seen shit like this. 9 guys giving their best, “I’m hard, I’m street” look…plastered on the back of an SUV.

I live in Indianapolis, people. We are so NOT street. These pose-wads are so lame, I can’t even come up with enough witty phrases to describe how pathetic these twerps are. There are corn fields RIGHT NEXT TO the international airport…you can’t be street with shit like that.

Sure, last year our NBA team tried to fight Detroit fans …all of them. Having the “Greatest Spectacle in Motor Racing” doesn’t count as street either…also, how is that the greatest? All they do is drive in an oval…that doesn’t seem great to me…the only great feat is that they don’t fall asleep. (Left…ok, left again…one more left…oh, I think I’ll go left again…look kids, Big Ben Parliament.)

It’s just sad, really. I will get a picture of this SUV…and I will post it.

The Friendship Virus

2005-12-13T00:13:00.000-05:00

Contrary to popular belief, I have friends. Really good friends. Unfortunately, one or two of these friends acts like the internet and email are brand new toys that must be abused until the stuffing and batteries fall out. One of my friends sends me these “affirmation” emails.

You know the ones. They usually start out with some inspiring story of friendship or relationship with God and near the end the email implores you to “Send this to all your friends, including the one who sent it to you”. The latest one had a points system:

0 Replies: You may need to work on your "people skills".
2 Replies: You are nice but probably need to be more outgoing.
4 Replies: You have picked your friends well.
6 Replies: You are downright popular.
8 Replies or More: You are totally awesome (and that's probably why you're on MY list).

This is the single most annoying SPAM/VIRUS in the world and so many people fall for it that it’s damn near insulting that we call ourselves the dominant species on Earth. Don’t kid yourself though, this is the single most widespread virus in the world…worse than the Flu.

Why?

Because IT departments can’t filter it out. It is almost impossible to stop someone from accepting these emails and resending them to their entire address book. And countless people do this crap everyday.

“Oh, I’ll send this to 20 of my ‘friends’ because it’s cute and I want to know how many are my true friends.”

A true friend doesn’t need to stroke your ego everyday. A true friend will come over to your house to do it, while he eats all your chips.

I never resend this crap. Only once has any of my friends called me out on it.

Friend: “Did you get that email I sent you?”

Me: “The one with the Precious Moments angel?”

Friend: “Yeah, that’s the one.”

Me: “Yeah.”

Friend: “Why didn’t you send it back?”

Me: “Because you sent it, I would think that you’d already seen it.”

Friend: “I know, but…”

Me: “I’m already your friend. If you want a fan club, open an amusement park.”

That ended those emails. It took me another three months to convince them that they will NEVER see “something cool happen on the screen”, “receive free shoes from Reebok”, “receive a gift-certificate from Old Navy”, or “receive free movie passes” if they forward an email to 10 or more people.

I’ve got friends, they just don’t send me very many emails anymore.

Richard Pryor and My Father

2005-12-10T22:41:00.000-05:00

Growing up, I never got a chance to really know my father. My folks were divorced when I was 6 and Dad become the “every other weekend” Pop. I don’t believe it was because he didn’t love my brother and I, he was just a bit irresponsible at the time and Mom was the steady breadwinner. He died when I was a freshman in High School.

One of my best memories of my father is comedy. He was the funniest man in my world. He introduced me to comedy the way a boy should be, not with the fluffy bunnies or purple dinosaurs. He did it through Mel Brooks, SCTV, Saturday Night Live (When it was really funny.), and a countless list of comedians throughout the late 70’s and early 80’s.

Where am I going with this? Well, as we’ve all heard, Richard Pryor died earlier this morning from a heart attack.

His passing affects me on a core level. He was one of those comedians that I had watched with my Dad. Richard, in a sense, was a connection to my Dad that I still had. Now, one more piece of that picture is gone for me.

The media is doing it’s recap of Richard’s career, his contributions to modern comedians, his pioneering style, all of the things that made him special to the rest of the world. For me, though, he meant so much more.

Here’s a connection that you’ll probably never hear of again: Richard Pryor and John Candy. John Candy was another of those connections to my father that’s gone.

I guess I’m reaching that age where deaths start to affect me more and remind me of my mortality. Comedians like Richard and John, Icons to modern comedy, but more than that to me, passing really hit me on deep level.

I openly wept for both. Weird, huh.

Anyway, I’m just kind of rambling here. Not my normal posting…so if you were expecting my average rant, I apologize for being so deep. It’s probably the two vicodins I took before starting this.

Thank you Richard, God speed.

Life's Plot Twist, Episode 1

2005-12-08T22:07:00.000-05:00

I have amazing self control, sometimes. I run into life’s little plot points, and at times, make the right decision. Take tonight for instance…

I had to go to a local drug store chain, Osco Drugs, to check on a product for one of my company’s clients.

--Back Story--

Back in August we “over-labeled” the UPC codes for two items, changing the code from an old number to a new one. We generated, tested, and applied the new labels and sent the product to the chain’s distribution centers.

--Back to the real story--

Tonight the Midwest got donkey punched by Old Man Winter and he unloaded about 6” of powder in 3 hours. (I know this seems light to those who experience “Lake Effect Snow”…but go with me on this.) Effectively shutting down all surface transportation…and since this city doesn’t believe that it needs mass transit (Fucking morons) we’re in a white-out.

So…once again I’m rambling…

I had to go. Why? Because no one else could do what I did. Go out and look at a box, check to see if it has a label, check to see if the label scans at the register, and check to see if the new label scans at the register. That's just too difficult, isn't it? A monkey couldn't do that...but, a trained monkey can.

Here’s my moment…it’s 5pm, there’s already about 4” of accumulation and the radio traffic reporter said, “I’d give you the update, but that would take an hour…everything everywhere is backed up, don’t go outside.”

The Salesrep for this account calls me…

Her: “So…are you going to go to Osco?”

Me: “Uh…yeah.”

Her: “This is important, we need to know about this as soon as possible, I need to call [the client] tonight.”

Me: “Right. Have you looked outside lately?”

Her: “Yes. But…I’d go, but my...” [insert dramatic pause] “...car is at the shop, I’m stuck at Firestone.”

This is my moment right here. This is where, in the space of less than 2 seconds, my mind goes through the list possible scenarios and responses to this “request”.

A) I tell her to fuck herself and her client.
B) I tell her that she can stop by in the morning on her way in…SINCE IT ON HER WAY IN TO WORK AND NOT MINE!!!
C) I lie and say that I’ve already been there and the label works.
D) I go and fuck my night into the snow.

A through C would eventually come back on me, so I go with D.

So…I go. It takes me an hour to get there…it’s 3 miles away. The labels are fucked, I know I’ve got a shit load more work to do tomorrow on this for 1216 stores nationwide and 60,000 labels.

I call the Sales Rep to give her the update. Guess what? She’s AT HOME!!! WTF?!? You’re at home? It took me 3 hours to get home from the drug store. Bitch. Total fucking slacking bitch…and she get’s the commission on this shit-hole of an account.

Salespeople suck feces from the cocks of gay badgers.

The only redeeming factor is that I drive a four-wheel truck and traversing the snow laden roads was actually fun, except for all the jack-holes that lose they’re minds when the weather turns.

Anyway…life throws you these little plot twists to test you. I was a 187 (Murder-Death-Kill) away from life in prison…instead I chose to play in the snow.

Air Marshals

2005-12-07T22:11:00.000-05:00

Sorry folks, been crazy busy the last few days and I haven’t had a chance to do an update. So…here you go:

Speaking of crazy…by now you all have heard bout the bi-polar guy in Miami that was killed by the Air Marshals because he claimed he had a bomb.

I give his wife less than one month to sue American Airlines, Miami Airport, the city of Miami, the state of Florida, the Office of Homeland Security, and the officers that shot Rigoberto. You know it’s going to happen. I’m surprised the ACLU hasn’t already released a statement.

My wife and I had a discussion about this tonight. She weakly tried to argue about how she could see how the Air Marshals should have shown restraint in handling this situation. If he was truly a terrorist, they could have just wounded him and interrogated him in case he had accomplices.

She knew her argument was weak, so the conversation didn’t last long.

If I were riding in that plane, and someone starts running down the aisle like a freak yelling that he has a bomb, I want him dead. I don’t want him wounded, wounded means he’s pissed and will want retribution. Nope, kill him and ask questions later.

This may sound a bit harsh. I really do sympathize with Mrs. Buechner…no, they don’t have the same last name…she lost her husband of 20 years and that is a real tragedy. It must have been horrifying for her to watch this unfold. Knowing that her husband is just sick and not a terrorist, screaming to the other passengers to that effect, and the Air Marshals still kill him. I can’t imagine the feeling of helplessness that she must have gone through.

Still, if I were on that plane…kill him.

You just can’t take chances anymore. I used to love riding in the window seat on planes. Not now. Now I sit on the aisle. I’m a martial artist…no really, I am…and I know I’ve got a better chance of defending myself ,and the other people on the plane, if I’m in the aisle rather than trapped by the window.

The Air Marshal is there to prevent incidents. If this guy’s wife sues and wins, then every officer is going to get his nuts clipped. Training will be forced to be changed, and the potential for someone like this, who truly HAS a bomb, to successfully detonate a bomb will greatly increase. I don’t want an Air Marshal to second guess or hesitate…do the job and protect the people.

If she doesn’t sue, then this will send a giant message to terrorists: These Air Marshals don’t fuck around.

Homie Don’t Play That.

Give Peace the Finger

2005-11-30T21:56:00.000-05:00

I have got to stop reading news stories. Maybe I should start hitting up Comic Book sites or spend my lunch breaks cruising Apple.com for trailers. There are genuine news stories that just make me want to fling the monitor across the office.

Take this story for instance: Christian Peacemaker Teams were abducted in Iraq. One American, One Brit, and Two Canadians. CPT blames the US and UK for the abductions “due to the illegal attack on Iraq and the continuing occupation and oppression of its people.”

Huh. Can’t blame the kidnappers, nope, they couldn’t help it. The Coalition Forces twisted the terrorists’ arms and made them say ‘Uncle” then told them to pick up a couple of old white dudes and their two Canadian Kwikie-Mart owner buddies.

C’mon…are you serious? This is what is so fucked up about some Liberals. These poor guys are probably going to get chopped up and instead of placing the blame on the twisted shit-stained, coward ass-bag terrorists…they’re going to blame the US.

Why not, everyone else does.

Here's the "kicker". The CPT's motto: "Committed to Reducing violence, by getting in the way." That's NOT in the article.

These people purposely put themselves in harm's way in order to stop violence. What stupid fucking morons. The CPT released a statement that read in part, "We fear that whoever is holding them has made a mistake."

No, Bright-mind, you jack-pipes made the mistake. You think these animals give a shit about who is or who is not in the US/UK military. They don't care what your mission statement is. Nope...they saw four Christians and said, TARGET ACQUIRED.

Don't you get it!?! Muslims HATE Christians...at least those Muslims do. You're an infidel. You might as well have been carrying a M-16 instead of a bible. It's the same thing to them. Dumb-ass.

I really want to feel sorry for these guys. Really. If they lose their heads, I'll be upset, but it's almost like feeling sorry for the Crocodile Hunter when a snake bites him...after he's fucked with it for 20 minutes. You can't be surprised that they've been abducted. They probably went door to door and asked to be kidnapped and paraded across Al-Ghraib-ur-Boob'i TV.

Any entity that is not directly related to security or the military has no business being in Iraq. You’re practically putting a friggin sign on your neck that screams CUT ME! Anybody that needs a harsh reminder of what these animals are capable of, can go to MichaelSavage.com. Most western companies have moved their people out. If you’re still there, you’re at risk, all the time. These finger pointers aren’t helping anybody BUT the terrorists.

Don’t coddle these bastards, they’re terrorists…cowards. They can’t take on the real armed forces, so they go for non-combatants, civilians. Pure fucking cowards. If you support them, in any way, you are not helping anyone...not even the scum-fuck terrorist towel heads. They'll keep believing the whole Virgins in Heaven thing and we'll have more headless bodies.

I have to go kick something.

Quick LINGO Update

2005-11-29T12:45:00.000-05:00

The Game continues...

Spoken during a meeting yesterday:

"anydated" = inundated
Sentence: "I don't want to be anydated with orders."

"re-enter-ate" = reiterate
Sentence: "I will re-enter-ate with him about the r'quirements."

"ideal", one instance.

Email this morning:

“And also would like to give you heads up you might need to kit some unites by the end if Dec or beginning of January.”

Points: 18 for meetings, only 1 point for Email...spell check wouldn't have tagged this one.

Black Friday

2005-11-25T12:37:00.000-05:00

This day reminds me of when I used to work in the retail industry and why now I’m not.

Nothing will kill your holiday spirit faster than working retail. People are stupid, but when they think they can get a deal…they become the espresso of stupid.

I’ve worked for a toy store, a men’s apparel store, a shoe store, and a video store…all mall based. I’m still in therapy over the men’s clothing store episode in my life.

The worst and was the toy store and the video store. It’s insulting how far people think they can push you for a discount or a refund. On one hand, I could have given a shit about giving out refunds…it’s not my money and the shit was broke. However, some people automatically think that they need to start yelling and degrading you to get what they want.

Oh…you want to fight…then you ain’t getting shit. Read the sign: No receipt, no refund. Fuck off…and have a happy holiday.

I always loved messing with people like this. I always knew when I had them at the edge of sanity…they uttered the famous words, say them with me:

“Let me speak to your manager.”

Guess what…that’s was me, every time. The rest of the exchange goes something like this:

“You’re speaking to him now.”

“Then let me speak to your supervisor, get them on the phone.”

“No. My supervisor is in, (insert major metropolitan city 1000 miles away).”

“Get them on the phone right now.”

“No.”

“Are you being smart with me?”

“I’m not being smart with you, because you’re not being smart with me.”

It goes on like this for several minutes and eventually they either leave or take a store credit. This happened so many times that I’ve lost count.

Once, on this very same day, I had a lady call me a liar. She came into the video store to return a pile of opened video tapes. She was speaking to another manager, who had just told her that since everything was opened all he could do was exchange them. She then pointed to me…I was standing nearby helping another customer…and said that I helped her originally and that I said it was ok to open all the movies and bring them back.

The other manager said told her again what our policy was and that no one working at the store would have authorized that. (By then, I was paying more attention to the situation.) She then turned to me, looked me dead in the eye, and told the other manager:

“Then HE’S A LIAR!”

Usually, I’ve got a good grip on my anger, especially at work. But this woman flipped my switch. I walked over to her, placed everything she brought in to return back in her bag…she kept repeating over and over “whatareyoudoing,whatareyoudoing”…handed her the bag, leaned in close and told her:

“Take your shit and get out of my store.”

“You can’t talk to me like that…who’s your…” I cut her off.

“I just did and if you have a problem with it you can call our home office…(she tries to cut in…I don’t let her.) look up the number ‘cause no one here is going to help you any further. There are four other stores in this city, go try your song and dance with them. Now leave or be removed. Merry Christmas.”

She cussed her way out of the store, made threats…blah, blah, blah.

Oddly enough, I was not fired over the incident. Apparently, she did try to go to another store…but, instead of telling the store manager over there what I had done, she did the same thing as she had with me. Unfortunately for her, I had called all of the stores and let them know about a possible friendly visit from a psycho, so they were prepared.

I quit the manager position that next spring and worked part time for another few months before I’d had enough. It’s been nine years since I had to work a Black Friday and in the last 5 years I’ve started to re-develop my love for Christmas…but, it’s a long hard road to recovery.

Anyone else have an incident they’d like to get off their chest?

Dutch Dominos

2005-11-23T23:17:00.000-05:00

Endangered species…when are we going to get over this? I mean when are we going to say, “ok we can’t save everything”. It’s another example of taking a good thing too far.

I picked up a story about how some Dutch television show broke the world record for domino drops…to the tune of 4.1 million. Remember how that was big in the US back in the eighties…way to stay hip, Netherlands!

Well, it turns out, during the set up a Dutch house sparrow flew into the area and knocked over 23,000 dominos. A local ORKIN man was called out and he “captured” the bird with a shot from an air rifle. Seems it’s much easier to capture a dead bird than one still flapping around.

As fate would have it…the offending bird was and “endangered” species. A fucking sparrow is an endangered species in the Netherlands. Are you kidding me with this crap? Apparently the species, according to the AP, is down to less than 1 MILLION breeding pairs. For comparison, the Netherlands have a human breeding population of just over 8 million pairs.

Anyway, there was the obligatory public outcry from the animal rights groups. They set up a web site for mourners that got tagged by at least 5,000.

Here’s the Alanis-type irony in the story: The exterminator reportedly had received several death threats for his actions. That’s right, the people who want to save the birds, want to kill this guy for doing his job. How completely fucked up does that sound?

This was a friggin sparrow! Not even some really rare breed of sparrow, it was a common house sparrow. If they’re so endangered in the Netherlands, let’s send them some of ours…I’ve got plenty around here that like to shit on my truck! While we’re at it, let’s export some of these damn Canadian Geese…they’re protected too.

Was killing the sparrow a bit over the top? Yeah, maybe. But did it really need the attention of all those people? No. Sparrows die all the time…they’re friggin everywhere. I’m not an ornithologist, but I’m willing to bet that the common sparrow is second only to the pigeon in worldwide population of bird species and some poor Dutch guy is getting death letters ‘cause he popped one.

What should have prompted public outrage is the fact that a television station dedicated the man-hours to setting up 4 million dominos, just to knock them over. If the Dutch are that hard-up for entertainment, they should start importing some re-runs of the Fresh Prince of Bel Aire or Knight Rider.

Domino, Mutha-Fucka!

In Non-Denominational Entity or No Higher Power We Trust

2005-11-22T20:52:00.000-05:00

Anybody remember the atheist in San Francisco that tried to get the Pledge of Allegiance banned from public schools? Well apparently Michael Newdow isn’t done milking his 15 mins of fame. Now the hairless monkey is trying to get the words “In God We Trust” taking off of American currency.

I mock religion…a lot. But, this is just some sad attempt at taking a jab at conservatives. Is anyone really that offended at the word "GOD" is on money? Does anyone truly feel as though they are being prejudiced against because of a Fiver?

Pick your battles, dude. This ain’t the one.

Let’s face it. This nation was founded by Christians…not atheists, not Muslims, not Buddhists, not Wiccans, not even Flying Spaghetti Monster-ites. While I may not agree with Christians on their vision of what is and is not right, I really don’t care if the word God is on money.

I guess that’s what bugs me about this whole argument that he’s trying to sell people on. He thinks that it’s unconstitutional. “In God We Trust” is, in his view, a governmental support of God.

He may be right…or he may be an idiot. I’ll go with the last one. This is a really stupid waste of time. I hope that he loses everything he owns in court costs fighting this. Of course, some Hollywood jack-ass will support his monkey nuts. He’ll get a book deal…probably a Showtime Movie with him masturbating to a Spawn Comic…anything to keep his ugly mug in front of a camera.

I wonder if Cindy Sheehan is looking for someone to go on tour with.

Snooze Button

2005-11-19T23:50:00.000-05:00

I am a habitual snooze button masher. I will lay in bed, sometimes for a full hour or more, hitting the snooze button every 9 minutes. I’ll bounce in and out of true REM sleep the entire time until finally, I roll my carcass out of bed.

This ability amazes my friends and torments my wife. My wife is one of those people who can immediately wake up and start her day. I have this ability too, however it’s only induced by extreme measures…like: burst water pipes, gun fire, screaming child, barking dogs, and acid reflux (I’ll save those stories for another day.)

I also have the ability to sleep through the alarm. It could and has gone off for an hour or more before it actually breaks through my lucidity and forces me to hit the snooze. Again, to the amazement of friends and torment of my wife.

You know those little metal balls that sit on executives’ desks that hang from a series of strings and click back and forth? Wait, that doesn’t sound right. How about this analogy…the scene in my bedroom on most work days looks like some twisted game of “pass it on.” The alarm goes off…my wife slaps me on the chest...I reach over and slap the snooze. This will happen two or three times, then my wife will get out of bed and leave me to my game of “Snooze You Lose” as I continue to grasp at small portions of sleep, exactly 9 minutes apart.

As of Thursday morning, my life is in complete shambles. I broke the snooze button. This has never happened to me before, so it throws off my morning routine. Most people have a set series of actions that they know they can do in the exact amount of time from waking up to arriving at work. I’m one of those people and I’ve got it down to exactly one hour and 5 minutes including dropping my son off at school. Now…I’m screwed.

The first morning was the worst…my brain isn’t prepared to handle tough problem solving that early. So, after five or six futile attempts at tripping the snooze feature, I turned off the alarm and went right back to sleep. And so did my wife, who had no clue that there was an issue with the snooze function.

There was a lot of rushing around that morning, which included the obligatory finger pointing and disbelief that there was actually anything wrong with the snooze button. Considering my mind set, I conceded that it was possible that I dreamed the whole incident…and we went about our day.

The next day I found a feature on the clock that is very similar to the snooze, but just different enough to completely fuck with my brain. The button, which in the five years of owning this clock I had never used or realized it existed, is located less than ¼ inch from the snooze button. It’s called “Alarm Reset”. It turns off the alarm like snooze does, however the alarm will not sound again for 24 hours. Not good if you’re expecting only 9 minutes.

Again, there was much rushing around.

So why did the snooze button suddenly stop working? It cannot possibly be the 5200+ times that I’ve hit that button in the last 5 years. I blame our throw away society that builds alarm clocks using the cheapest labor and materials. Tester Number 5 in China should not have cleared this malfunctioning demon box for release to the general public. If I could remember where I bought this, I’d return it…maybe Nordstrom’s will take it back.

There are several items in this world that should be indestructible by normal human interaction: Door Handles, Shoe Laces, Soft Soap Dispensers, Straws, Zippers, TV Remotes, and Snooze Buttons.

Please write your congressman.

Meetings, or How I never get anything done in a day.

2005-11-17T23:00:00.000-05:00

I was stuck in meetings all day today. That sucks for a guy like me. I understand the need to meet with clients and get an understanding of their work flow and processes, but damn…my whole day was shot. I'm a hands on, get it done and stop talking about it kind of guy.

The last meeting was the stickiest.

As you know, my loyal readers, I work at a warehousing and transportation business. The last meeting of the day was with one of our already existing accounts that wants to expand on the business and give us some kit building fulfillment. (Kits = assembly of components to make a whole unit) This customer is a supplier of computer accessories to another supplier of a large computer manufacturer. It’s a complicated tree of back scratching that is surprisingly legal.

Anyway…I came in towards the tail end of the meeting and missed most of the process explanations and systems requirements. Basically, everything that I needed to know. As usual, our salesman vomited commitments and promises to our client that we can’t do…but that’s not what I’m writing about today.

This client is just…icky. He’s the kind of guy that makes you want to take a shower after talking with him. He gave off this strange vibe that I’m still not sure if I can explain it correctly.

It was like talking to a merchant in some dusty middle eastern bazaar. One where the peddler is subtly haggling while telling you stories of his family and experiences…there’s this constant undertone that you’re in the middle of a deal, yet he’s making small talk and getting very personal. We continued to bounce in and out of business, serious then joking, it was almost hypnotic…except I was revolted by the whole deal.

At one point, right after some off the cuff joke, he looks across the table at me very seriously. He tells me he does not want the other supplier to see the inventory for this new business. He starts making several assumptions that this other supplier and I are “tight”.

I laughed. He was talking about another guy who lives 5 states away that I’ve never even spoken to directly. Yet…we’re so tight that I’d just divulge proprietary information like some babbling little 14 year old girl talking to her girlfriends on the phone. What eh-ver.

Still the client stays serious and goes on and on about how it’s none of the other supplier’s business…blah,blah,blah.

It was very “Cloak and Dagger.” I’m thinking to myself…this isn’t State Secrets, it’s friggin’ PC components and not even highend components. This is crap you’d buy at Target and this guys acting like I’m going to give his social security number to a hacker.

People who take themselves too seriously bug the shit out me. So that didn’t help this guy’s impression on me.

So…there I am stuck with this guy and his crony who turned out to be the company “Controller.” I like that title for some reason, it sounds so much more than it really is. That guy was ok…except he had Pug eyes. You know, the eyes that don’t meet in the middle like they should and you can’t ever tell if the guy is looking at you or the person next to you. He covered it up well, so I kind of felt for the guy since he’s probably been dealing with that since he was a kid…but, I’m getting off topic.

This meeting ended up being 2 hours longer than it needed to be…and then he wanted me to join him and Controller for dinner. Normally, I’d jump at the chance to hang out with a client and eat expensive food. But, with this guy, I’d spend all night wondering when the steak knife would end up in my back and my cash in his hand.

Time to bathe.

Epiphany or Marriage Counciling

2005-11-15T22:33:00.000-05:00

Last night, I had an epiphany. Quite by accident and at a time that I don’t normally have wondering thoughts, a hypothesis happened upon my very receptive consciousness.

Sex is a pain killer.

Guys…you’ll understand a bit better than the girls, but I think they’ll catch on.

Evidence:

Guys, remember the last time your Franks ‘N Beans were “slightly” grazed by some foreign object…no I don’t mean Keira Knightley. Like those times when you’re walking and someone bumps into and their leg or arm just grazes the Twins. About 15 seconds later, you’re doubled over trying desperately to breath.

The Phantom Nut-racking…fatal to some men…debilitating to others.

Fact:

A man’s testicles are two very sensitive pieces of equipment, affected by climate and environmental changes.

Theory:

Sex negates the pain receptors in the testicles when the owner/operator is in the “command” position. (Command position is any position where the man is “driving”, so to speak.)

Evidence for theory:

During a vigorous encounter with my wife in the Doggie Style position…we really need to rename that…I became VERY aware that my man-sack was beating against my wife’s pelvic region like the head of a conga drum. I felt no pain. None. I could hear my Spaldings slapping collectively against my wife and it didn’t hurt at all.

How can I hit it like a speed bag and come away all smiles in that situation, yet cry like a kicked puppy if I drop a pad of paper in my lap? WTF?

Obviously, sex turns off those pain receptors. It’s got to be similar to walking on hot coals. A guy’s mind must go into a Zen-like meditative state, blocking the pain or substituting it for pleasure.

That means I’m a freak’n sadomasochistic shaolin sex master!

So, guys, next time you and the lady are in the mood, tell her you want to try the “Meditating Lotus Petal” position.

Anyone care to provide an alternative theory?

Fuji or Kodak...the new penis envy.

2005-11-09T23:24:00.000-05:00

Sales and Marketing people are cockbites. They are a bunch of lying, backstabbing, double talking, suck-holes.

Why is my race/age/nationality constantly being touted as the joke-ponies of the new millennium? Nearly all of the commercials today have a central figure who’s some 25 to 35 year old white American male that’s a fucking moron. He’s the guy that’s always got the “went to bed with wet hair” look and clothes bought at a yard sale who can’t figure out how to A) order a meal. B) Buy a car like a man. C) make a decision that his wife approves of.

The latest tripe marketing ploy is this new digital video camera that has a hard drive. The big hook is that you don’t have to fumble with changing the disk.

How do they hook you? They show this white American guy fumbling with a camera like he’s got a Polio arm. Meanwhile, his ever faithful wife/girlfriend gets swept off her feet by some smarmy Europhite.

So…the gist of this commercial is, you’re a fucking loser who’ll only keep your girl if you don’t have to change your disk.

Ok…here’s the reality. If I take my wife to Europe and the minute I turn my back she wraps her legs around the first Guido that walks by…it ain’t because of the camera. She’s a fucking slut. I’m not an idiot for having a shitty camera…I’m an idiot for traveling with that whore.

Also, what's so hard about changing a fucking disk? Are we so lazy and impatient that we can't take 2 minutes to change out a disk in a camera? AND we're supposed to believe that during this two minutes, our significant other...who's also lazy and impatient...will fuck off with the first schmuck that comes along and says "hi".

It’s not enough that we American men have to live with penis envy. Now this concept keeps getting transferred over and over again into everything else. And the message is always the same:

You’re white, American, under 40…you’re so inadequate. But…buy this now and you’ll stand out. Chicks will want you and guys will envy you. And no one will notice that you can’t dance, play sports, and dress well or that you have a small dick.

It’s like some kind of passive aggressive forced penance for the years and years of racial bullshit that Caucasians have doused upon the nation once upon a time.

Don’t read this wrong. I’m not saying that the years of racism that happened should be forgotten. No. I’m saying the son shouldn’t pay for the sins of the father. Politically Correct actions should be a two way street…but, that’s not the nature of man. There’s always got to be someone who’s the ass of the joke.

Right now, it’s me. So go ahead, sheep, laugh and buy your hard-drive camcorders and feed your cash back into some foreign company pushing out electronics made by some 12 year-old South Korean kid making $2 a week.

My dick don't hit the bottom...but I fuck the sides up.

Quick Shot

2005-11-08T12:13:00.000-05:00

Just a few quick observations and quotes:

On Terrell Owen's public apology for being such a fucking selfish moron...
My favorite quote so far on this came from a reporter who asked T.O.'s agent point blank, "What have you done for you client in the last 5 months, besides get him fired?"

Gold, pure gold.

On Halloween on the Westside of Indianapolis:
The wife and I are walking with our son as he's Trick-Or-Treating through our neighborhood and as we come to one house I notice that there are several people on the front porch handing out candy to a boy dressed as Bob The Builder as his mom watches on from a few feet away. As my son walks up the front steps, he passes a can on the front walkway of the home. Upon, further inspection I notice it's a can of Coors Lite. My first thought is that this house is having a nice little Halloween party and some dumbfuck left his soldier behind.

So, Bob the Builder comes bounding off the porch and heads blindly down the walkway looking intently in his candy bag for his latest score. As you can probably guess, just as I'm trying to stop him, he trips over the beer.

Right before I'm about to pick up the can and hand it to the people on the porch, with a few choice words about safety...young Bob's mom reaches down, picks up the can, takes a drink, and shuffles her little construction worker on his way.

WTF?!?

My wife stops me before I ruin a perfectly good holiday for our son.

On Paris:
Would you like some Freedom Fries with that roasted Crossant?

On the new Supreme Court nominee:
GW is trying to prove a point, "Oh, so you didn't like the Old Broad...suck on this ultra-conservitive who'll set back the clocks on your asses. Fight over this one."

On LINGO:
Word - FIFT.
Meaning: Numerical value after fourth.
Sentence used: "...and we were fift in line."
Points: 12. (Story was repeated in two separate meetings.)

Word - METEOR.
Meaning: One who reconciles disputes between two parties.
Sentence used: "When you and (insert client name) have your call, I want to be your meteor."
Points: 6.

Current standings: 2nd with 899 points. (I missed a few meetings where ideal was used repeatedly.)

More later once I'm unburied at work.

New meaning to the term "SLIDERS"

2005-11-04T20:23:00.000-05:00

I’ve been out of it for a while so bear with me. The following is based on an older story…

There is a place in Arizona, the San Francisco Peaks, that the Coconino National Forest is trying to turn to shit. Literally. San Francisco Peaks…who really should change the name…has a ski resort type area called Arizona Snowbowl (which makes this story even more funny) near Flagstaff.

Get this. They want to pump waste water up the mountain and use it to make fake snow.

What the fuck? You seriously want to coat your mountain in shit and call it snow? Who skis there? Blind Anosmiacs? (Look it up.)

Naturally the environmentalists are out in full force as well as the several Indian…oops, I mean Native American Groups trying to block this decision.

Here’s the punch line…

These peaks are sacred to several Indian…damn…I mean Native American tribes. One of which is the Navajo.

And what do the Navajo call this mountain?

Dook’o’sliid.

I’m not making that up…really…it’s Dook’o’sliid. I don’t know what that means in Navajo…but it means “Dookie slide” in Indiana.

Check out the story here.

L-I-N-G-O

2005-10-24T23:02:00.000-05:00

I live in the Midwest…which generally means that the people around me murder the English language on a daily basis. One person in particular does it so much that we, her caring and sensitive co-workers, devised a game to play behind her back. We call it LINGO.

Originally, it began like BINGO. We created individual gameboards with phrases and words that have been uttered by our esteemed collegue. When the key phrase is spoken or typed in an email…the player would mark it off. Five in a row and the player would email the subject: LINGO.

Today, it’s much more simplified.

Anytime one of the magic words is spoken, one of the players must be the first to say: “LINGO.” This can and does happen at anytime during the day…like during manager meetings. We’ve attached a scoring system that is tallied at the end of the year.
-1 point for each instance
-Add a point for each email (spell check is on)
-Add 5 points for internal meetings
-Add 10 points for client meetings
Points double if two occurrences happen in the same sentence.

The number one misused word is “IDEAL”.

“I had no ideal she was gonna call me.”

“My ideal was to add a page to the report.”

“On the way here, I had an ideal about that meet’n.”

You get the point.

My personal favorite is “DISPURDUTION”. Go ahead, sound that out. She means, “distribution”…but she just can’t get it to come out of her mouth. I’ve corrected her hundreds of times and she still can’t do it. We work for a transportation and warehousing company…you almost have to say “distribution” a dozen times a day…she can’t.

I’ll be updating you on future transgressions and where my score is. Currently, I’m in the lead with 881 points.

NBA Garamimils

2005-10-20T22:35:00.000-05:00

I hate Pro Basketball.

I live in a state that reveres this sport, but I hate it. The Olympics proved that our game ain’t what it used to be. I think the slam dunk is what started its downfall. Then came the crybaby stars.

But, that’s not what I want to talk about today.

The NBA is going to enforce a mandatory dress code starting with the regular season. Players are going to be required to wear business casual attire to all team and league functions.

No more saggy-baggy. No more bling. No more hats worn every which way.

From what I’ve read, the majority of the players don’t have a problem with it. Others are crying racism. It’s hard to not carry that flag when the league specifically targets “Chains, pendants, or medallions worn over the player's clothes” as being one of the no-no items.

However, in defense of the League, it’s not a racial thing. It’s about image. If the league was predominantly Caucasian and theses guys were all wearing sleeveless shirts and John Deer hats, I’m sure that they’d ban that too. It’s about promoting an image, and the image that they’re sick of portraying is that of the League of sloppy dressing millionaires.

The best quote I’ve seen came from Allen Iverson: ''I feel like if they want us to dress a certain way, they should pay for our clothes.''

He makes $19,000,000 a year. Allen, the league IS paying for your clothes…and you dress like a colorblind kid with Down Syndrome.

Unfortunately for our nation, sports figures are idols to most of our youth. As such, their actions and images are often copied by our ever impressionable teenagers. And it’s a health hazard.

That’s right, I think the CDC, EPA, and some other acronymed government regulatory department should get involved in banning baggy, ill fitting clothing. It’s a safety menace.

Case in point:

The other day I was exiting a McDonald’s, returning to work with my obligatory double quarter pounder extra value meal…when I noticed a guy attempting to run to his car. I say attempt, because is saggy drawers were hindering his progress.

Had I been drinking my large Coke at the time, I would’ve done a spit take. This guy could only get about a stride and a half into his failed attempt at a “run” before he had to reach down an lift his jeans back up to at least half-ass level. It was pathetic.

This guy’s saggy-baggies could have caused him great injury had he fallen down. He could have been hit by someone in the drive thru…he was in no condition to dodge traffic. More importantly, I could have choked to death on my 80% beef patties…had I been eating at them time…and so could have a number of innocent on-lookers trying to enjoy their meals.

If you wear pants that are 8 sizes too big because you WANT to, then you’re endangering the lives of millions.

Iverson! Your reign of terror ends soon!

As a side note: I personally would've loved it if the league switched Kilts for Khakis as approved gear. That would've made a real statement. Kilts are making a comeback.

You don’t have to have blond hair to be Blond

2005-10-19T00:08:00.000-05:00

As promised, here’s one of the many stories of women I’ve dated in the past that may have been a bit, less than normal.

Once upon a time…

I used to live in Hawaii.

Before you start to shower me with pity for my hard-knock life, let me continue.

I moved to Hawaii straight out of High School. Young, dumb, and full of…er…ideas. A few months after I arrive, my brother, God rest his soul…even though he’s not dead yet…introduced me to a classmate of his. We’ll call her Pie. No, that’s not Hawaiian for “Tastes like Dessert”, it’s just pie.

Pie was a beautiful young Asian girl of 17. An honor roll student with aspirations of attending Harvard. What the hell she saw in me, I don’t know…chics dig older guys, I guess.

So, anyway, she and I had been dating for a couple of weeks. One weekend…our last as a couple…we go out with some friends to Waimea Bay at night. Waimea is on the North Shore and is an extremely romantic place to share spit with the partner of your choice.

We arrive and promptly split up into our various, “couplets.” Pie and I head down beach, for what I had hoped was going to be a GREAT night. Remember…I was 18, guns a’blazin so to speak. Pie was a bit shy and not so outgoing, so up to that point, we’d done little except light kisses. Cute, but not what I’d call passionate. There was quite a bit of lead up talk to that weekend that suggested we were going to reach a new level…right here, on this beach.

We find a nice spot to lay out the blanket and hold each other as we looked at the stars. It was a perfect night, cool breeze coming in off the glassy water, not too humid and no bugs. (Waimea is only a surf haven once a year, the other half of the year it’s flat.)

I start to act like I know shit about constellations…

Me: “There’s Orion’s Belt.” (If it weren’t for Orion Pictures, I wouldn’t know what the hell Orion’s Belt looked like.)

Me: “Oh. The Big Dipper.”

This continued for a few minutes, while Pie oh’d and awed.

Finally, she looked up into my eyes and said,

Pie: “Can I ask you something?”

Here it comes…what I thought would be the lead in to at least 5 or 10 minutes of booty rocking beach love.

The next thing out of her mouth still haunts me to this day.

Pie: eyes fluttering “Do stars really have five points?”

-pause- Take that in for a second. Go ahead, I’ll wait.

Me: “What?”

Pie: “Do stars really have five points? I mean, they always show them with five points. Do you they, like, really have five, cause it looks like they have more.”

Me: giggle…then serious. “You’re kidding, right?”

Pie: “Well…no.”

Me: “You realize that they’re like our sun…right?”

Pie: backpeddling quickly “Well, uh, yeah…I mean from an art type of…”

But that was it, I laughed so friggin hard. I couldn’t stop. I had to get up and find each of the couples we came with to tell them what she said. Anyone that stupid needed to be ridiculed on the spot. Hell, I knew I wasn’t going to get laid…even if she still wanted to, I don’t think mini-me would have been up to the challenge. How could I? I’m dating an honors student who’s probably going to Harvard and she’s dumber than sack of wet mice. There’s no chance of me respecting her after that.

As you can imagine, the relationship didn’t last much longer. Two days to be exact.

Now…in hind sight…I probably could have handled the situation a bit more gently.

I could’ve said, “Hell yes they do...and they look better with your top off.”

Accidents and Why you should fear the road

2005-10-17T23:21:00.000-05:00

Last Friday we had an accident in the warehouse. One of our delivery drivers was attempting to unload a truck and dumped the forklift in the parking lot. As the forklift was entering the truck, the truck pulled away from the building and the forklift fell out of the truck.

To someone who hasn’t worked around a warehouse, this may sound uninteresting. This is actually very remarkable. The driver came away uninjured. She "rode it out" from start to finish and only ripped the sleeve of her shirt. This is a 7,000 pound forklift…for comparison, that’s more than two Mazda Miatas. Additionally, this is a battery powered lift. The battery alone weighs about 2,500 lbs.

Most accidents like this almost always end in injury…often in death. Remarkable.

What the pictures do not show real well is the battery acid pouring out of the battery. The battery dumped out about 20 gallons of acid on the forklift and concrete. I wasn’t too concerned about this until we had to get the forklift back on its wheels. To do this, without the help of a crane, you need to drag the lift away from the building, lay the forklift on its side, and then set it back up on its wheels. This process spread the acid around just a bit.

On the brightside, chics in Europe are paying top dollar for acid wash jeans.

For those of you in the rest of the world, I have a single message…that I’ll undoubtedly repeat often on this blog: You should cower in fear of every delivery truck and semi that you see on the road. I mean the pull over and wait kind of fear.

“Why, Kyu? I know these trucks are big, but why be that afraid?”

Because of who’s behind the wheel. Oh. My. God. If you’ve ever had to go inside the gas station to pay for gas and looked at the attendant behind the counter and wondered: “Was the GED that hard?” Or been to a McDonalds and felt very fortunate to not have been dropped on your head by the nurse, and your mom, and your brother-daddy like the guy running the McFlurry machine. These all pale in comparison to the brain trust that is the transportation industry.

The reason that the accident at our building happened is because the driver of the truck that was being unloaded didn’t chock his wheels or set his parking break. Essentially, he left the truck in neutral. You don’t have to have a degree in physics or phys ed to know what is going to happen in that situation.

And the excuse:

“You guys never unload me with a forklift. I didn’t think you’d do it this time.”

Oh…but there’s more than just this guy.

You haven’t lived until you’ve given directions to one of these guys. They all speak in exit numbers.

Driver: “What exit number are you at?”

Me: “The one that leads to my building.”

Driver: “You mean you don’t know?”

Me: “You mean your dispatcher didn’t give you directions? No, I don’t know the exit number…but, I also don’t know my company’s 9 digit zip code and I can still find the place.”

Driver: “Zip codes only have 5 numbers.”

Me: “Yeah, and we use street names here. Call your dispatch.”

Something you may not know. There is a great majority of over-the-road drivers, those are the trucks with the big sleeper cabs, that are Russian. There’s also a good contingent that are French-Canadian. Those calls go a little something like this:
(as a side note, I not supposed to get these calls, yet somehow these dopey bastards still find my extension.)
-ring-

Me: “This is Kyuball, can I help you?”

Driver: silence

Me: “Hello?”

Driver: “I pick-up, need…ah…to you…how?”

Me: sigh “You’re making a pickup and need directions?”

Driver: “I pick-up. Where you?”

Yeah…you get the idea. Conversations like this usually take 30 minutes. Time I’ll never get back.

And these guys, sometimes women, smell like they’ve been sleeping with a dirty-turd. It’s not just their body odor, no-no it's their breath too. They must snack on rotten goat-cock jerky. It’s a stink that just doesn’t leave when they do. It sticks around like tree sap on your car window. Other people who walk into it look like they got slapped then they check there shoes for dog shit.

One more observation: I know that there are driving schools out there. They advertise. If anyone who runs these schools happens to randomly read this posting, please consider adding a three-week course on backing up to dock-doors.

It never ceases to amaze me how guys can drive forward for thousands of miles at a time, but can’t back up to a building to save their life. We’ve painted lines on the concrete for these guys and they still end up hitting the building. I’ve backed up a trailer before, it’s not easy, but it’s also not my career and while it’s not 40 feet long, it’s the same principle.

So the next time you're zipping through traffic and you see a large gap between a semi and the one in front of him, think twice before you put yourself in center of a shit sandwich. It just might come with pickles.

Holy Smurf

2005-10-12T20:15:00.000-05:00

Have you seen the new campaign by UNICEF? It’s a depiction of the Smurfs getting bombed. You can see it here.

This is appearing in Belgium right now…which is good, because if that were shown in the U.S. it would be the funniest ad on television.

C’mon, how many people wanted to kill a Smurf? Smurfs were the Barney’s of the ‘80’s. My penultimate vision of the Smurfs had them caught in the cross-fire between G.I. Joe and Cobra forces.

The scene opens with Poppa Smurf teaching Smurfette the proper way to smurf his smurf and swallow his smurf while he ate her smurfy smurf.

The smurfalingus is interrupted by the scream of a squadron of GIJOE Mauler MBT tanks roll over the same horizon while Cobra H.I.S.S. tanks roll in from the opposing horizon into the Valley.

The ensuing battle ravages the Smurf village.

Meanwhile, several Smurfs are captured by Cobra forces and tortured for information. Destro becomes so incensed by the Smurfs constant smurf-like yammering that he has the prisoners dragged to a blue death from behind a STUN.

But, that’s me. I'd be a giddy kiddie to watch a truckload of Cabbage Patch dolls and Care Bears crash into the back of a School bus full of Strawberry Shortcakes and Polly Pockets, bursting into a fruit flavored happy-happy joy-joy flame filled pyre.

I guess the next ad we'll see will come from the ACLU. It'll be Fat Albert and the Gang getting beat down by the L.A.P.D.

Getting old sucks V1

2005-10-08T23:17:00.000-05:00

I found a grey hair tonight.

Inside my fucking nose!

When the hell was someone going to tell me that you get grey hair everywhere? It’s not taught in public schools. I would have remembered that shit. Not in biology, history, or economics. NO WHERE in the classes that should teach you about grey hairs is it mentioned.

Oh…I’ve already wigged out about greys in my chest hair. I also had a tough time with greys in my pubics. And, don’t even get me started on where I’m growing hair now and how much of it there is.

But grey hairs in my nose?

Damn, I thought this shit would be easier on me.

“Why, Kyu, would getting old be easier on you?”

Well I’ll tell you, if you’d stop interrupting me.

I’ve got, what has been termed, the curse of the baby face. I didn’t have the pronounced jaw line that most of my troglodyte peers had in High School. For most of my life, people would mistake me for being 3 to 7 years younger than I was. Up until I was 27. No really.

When I was 21, I got into an argument with a liquor store clerk about my age. It was December of ’93, I was born in January of ’72…break out your calculators with me…that means that I had been 21 for 11 months. The asian clerk spent a good minute, minute and a half looking at me…then my license…me…my license.

“You not 21, come back next month.”

We argue a bit as I try to tell her how stupid she is and that I’m just a normal “of age” drinker whose looking to re-stock my wet-bar. With two 1.75L bottles of rum, a liter of vodka, two fifths of two different whiskeys, and a cold pack of Budweiser. Nothing weird or suspicious about that...right?

By then, a line had formed behind me and I was right at the point where my voice had risen to just below a scream. The manager came over and tried to rectify the situation. He looked at my license…at me...my license again as said:

“No…you no 21…come back next month.”

I made them find a calculator. I made them apologize to me and the 8 people behind me. I got $10 off my bill.

Back to my point…I look younger than I am. Well, I did for a good portion of time, until now.

I’m not freaking out about grey hair in general. What happens, happens, and I’m not going to cover it up with “Just for Men” or any of that other coloring like some middle-aged Al Bundy, pining for the good old days. If I go bald...I go bald...fuck it.

It’s life’s little DVD Easter Eggs that are throwing me off here. There will be more…I know…but, damn…grey nose hairs. That shit ain’t right.

Breakout the Turkey Basters

2005-10-08T20:33:00.000-05:00

An Indiana Legislator, republican state Senator Patricia Miller, tried to suggest a law that would deny couples that aren’t married from producing kids with help from medical procedures.

That’s what living in the Bible belt will get you.

This was really a thinly veiled attempt by an ultra-conservative to keep gay and lesbian couples from having children and essentially regulate pregnancy. I’m still undecided on the gay parents thing as a whole, but I’ve got two in-laws who are lesbians and they’d make great parents. I’d be willing to make a donation to their family unit too…the old fashioned way…wink-wink, nudge-nudge.

What this Senator should’ve been concentrating on is not the people who want children…but the people who don’t care if they have children. I’m not referring to the Prom Queen who’s looking for an abortion. I’m talking about the single mom’s on welfare who can’t keep their legs closed. Those people fucking make me sick. You can’t afford to keep a dog healthy, but you’re going to raise 7 kids.

And don’t give me that sob story that they’re only on government handouts because the father won’t pay child support. You fucked a turd, now you’re living in shit. He wasn't a deadbeat when you were reginding his cam shaft in the bathroom of the Waffle N Steak.

“They don’t know any better, Kyu. They aren’t educated enough.”

Bullshit. Common sense should kick in after the second child:

Oh…if I keeping getting naked at the crack house, I might get knocked up again. Maybe I should keep my legs closed this time and just suck cock instead.

Maybe I’m wrong, but I think that if you’re living off the rest of America, then you should have limits to what you are allowed to do:

If you’re on welfare and you don’t find a job in six months, you can’t have more than two kids. If you do, then the third kid gets foster care. You have another one after the third, and the State cuts your tubes.

Oh…before you estrogen farms get your panties in a knot. I’ve got regulations for the Johnny Appleseeds of the world too:

If you put your cock into a woman on welfare and she has a kid by you and you don’t have a job or can’t pay child support, they you get your man sack snipped.

I shouldn’t have to pay for you to have kids. I have a hard enough time supporting my own. If you’re going to live off me, then I should have some say in what you do.

Living off me makes you a dependent. I wonder if there’s a section for that on Turbo Tax®.

DEPENDANTS: 4,000,000

Ah hell. Getting 4,000,000 social security numbers and typing in those names would be a bitch. Maybe I could hire out a firm in India to do it.

Anyway…Patty dropped the issue because the Democrats had a field day with the George Orwell analogies and most of the state thought she was Coo-Coo for Cocoa Puffs. However, she didn’t leave out the possibility that she'd bring it up again in January when the state general assembly reconvenes.

I’m so proud to be a Hoosier.

Remakes Blow

2005-10-06T22:08:00.000-05:00

Ok…not all remakes blow. But a good majority do.

Case in point: The Nightstalker. The remake of Kolchack The Nightstalker.

This show sucks, and I haven’t even watched an episode of it.

“Then, Kyu, how do you know it sucks?”

Because, jack-hole, Stuart Townsend is the new Kolchack. He’s an ok actor, but he’s not Kolchack. Look at him…he’s too pretty to be Kolchack. The original story was of some bumbling, skeptical journalist who got into situations because of bad luck…then out of them because of dumb luck.

He didn’t have a Scooby Gang to bail him out. He didn’t have some driving motive to find a killer…he just wanted a good story. And he looked like this. Darren McGavin was the ultimate bumbling hero.

Hollywood has run out of ideas. The stories are rehashes. No one wants to try to come up with something new.

This is just like the new/old cars that they’re manufacturing now. The biggest rip off is the new Charger. What the fuck is this? A FOUR door Charger? You can’t put four doors on a Charger? Nothing on this car is a Charger except the name. The original Charger had a uniqueness about it. This new one looks like the rest of the four door sedans out there. Like a big plastic tampon.

Save some oxygen for me

2005-10-05T22:18:00.000-05:00

Let them die.

The Feds are debating the right to die issue. It’s a side topic these days, but they’re looking at it again.

This is one of the many things that are wrong with this world. There used to be, back in the old days when you clubbed a girl and dragged her to your honeymoon by her hair, a natural thinning of the herd. Those too weak or stupid died horribly and the rest of the pack grew stronger and smarter.

No longer. Now the government steps in and “protects” the mouth breathers by regulation and control. Prime example: seat belt laws.

The states and feds want people to wear their seatbelts to protect them and reduce the cost of health and auto insurance. So, they make it against the law to not wear your restraints.

Does this really solve the issue? No, not really. The same can be said for speed limits…people only follow the law if there’s a cop around.

You want people to wear their belts? Then the insurance companies should put in an act of stupidity clause. If you’re injuries are the result of an accident and you were not wearing the proper restraint, then you are an idiot and are not covered. Have a nice day.

Something else not directly related but is still fun: bring back the predators to North America. I read a few months back that some ecologists were suggesting that large plains animals such as the lion, the rhino, and the elephant should be re-introduced into the “wilds” of the plains states. This is an unbelievably awesome idea.

Tourism might lag a bit for the Corn Palace in Nebraska if Simba started eating the faces off the kids or Jumbo goes into heat and starts haunching on Winnebagos. But at least you wouldn’t hear anymore about the puss-wads trying to pet the bison and getting gored. You’d see stories of Johnny Cocko trying to feed a Big Mack™ to some 2 ton rhino who goes ape shit over the sesame seeds and impales Johnny on his McHorns.

These are the thoughts that run through my head in traffic as I try not to ram the douche bag in front of me who souped up his ’89 Honda Civic Rice Rocket with parts from Wal-mart and drives like Mario Andretti…the Mario who wrecked his shit at Indy in 2003.

Granted, it’s not these morons that want to die. But, if we open the door for assisted suicide, perhaps in a few years we can start scaling back our regulations that keep jack-pipes like Paulie Shore and Ashlee Simpson alive.

Seattle: no place for a dollar.

2005-10-04T22:31:00.000-05:00

Apparently, Seattle has a hard-on for everything liberal, except strippers. The Seattle city council voted 5 to 4 to crack…hehe get it?...down on strip clubs. They’re instituting a new ordinance that will turn strip clubs into Hooters®.

This new ordinance requires that there be at least four feet of separation between the skanks and the pervs. No more dry humping to music. There also will be a 3 foot rail installed and lighting your physician would be proud of. No more tucking a buck, either. So, basically everything we know and love about strip clubs is banned in Seattle.

Frankly, Seattle doesn’t jump out as a hot spot for strip clubs in the first place, but you’d think that a place with that many hippies would be a little more slack on the naked thing. Of course, when I think of Seattle I think of rain 300 days of the year, people who don’t bathe, and lumberjacks…but, I don’t get out much.

This doesn’t affect me much as I’m not a big fan of strip clubs. I’M NOT GAY!!! I just don’t feel like paying some chick a buck to tease my cock like a 16 year-old cheerleader and end up NOT sucking my dick.

“Oh thanks Trixie, here’s another buck for not letting me put it in you. Can you shake it a bit more to the left? That one’s not the same shade of blue as the right one. That’s great, here’s another dollar.”

Still, it’s just not a strip club if you can’t tuck our national currency into the G-String of a coke whore. It’s simply un-American.

Fucking hippies. Where’s there sense of national pride?

My new favorite song

2005-10-03T21:47:00.000-05:00

I just recently downloaded, legally, the Bloodhound Gang's Album (yes I still call them albums) Hefty Fine. These guys are definitely an acquired taste, but funny.

As you'll find out in later posts, previously to meeting and marrying my wife, I have a history of hooking up with psychotic bitches. No...not women, bitches. The kind of women that give seeping anal sores a good name.

But, I digress. These guys have written the ultimate break up song. Oh, there's others that rate...but this is the best.

Lyrics below:

chorus:

Ain't my job

To fuck you on your birthday

Ain't my job

To fuck you on your birthday anymore

repeat chorus

Maybe you got screwed

but i dumped you 'cause you ain't nothin' but trash

I put out despite the fact that you're like a Hawaiian punch moustache

Right under my nose thinking i'm so colonel klink oblivious

But how could i nazi? you got off scot-free 'cause i know this means it

repeat chorus

If i want to be repeatedly shit on i'll go make dutch porn

When roughly translated even your naked truth means squat and what's more

I'm missing you like a hijacked flight on september 11th

I don't know who got on you but i'm not wrong in thanking them since it

repeat chorus

Maybe it ain't your birthday but then again

Ya know i wouldn't give a fuck

When what i shoulda got is over ya sooner so now I'm just gonna wrap it up

A night at the movies

2005-09-29T23:44:00.000-05:00

The wife and I caught a sneak preview of Into the Blue tonight, and before you immediately click the “next blog” button, I’m not going to subject you to some asinine review of the movie. That ain’t what this blog’s about.

I will say, that if you’ve seen any of the commercials or trailers for this flick, you’ll think that this is a Jessica Alba swimsuit and sharks movie. Half right, there is sharks, but they’re not the story. It’s not half bad…that’s my review.

I made a lot of observations during this excursion that I’d like to share with you:

This preview was put on by a local “Lite-Rock” radio station. The Wife won the passes, she actually got four, but we couldn’t find anyone else to go with us…not a good sign.

Have you ever been to any kind of event where everyone you see is completely average or below? Every person there was Joe and Jane Average, including the people who worked at the theater. I’ve been to extreme geek conventions and even there I’ve been able to spot the beautiful people. Not this time. The only beautiful person in the joint was my wife…and I love saying that…I’ll score for that comment, but it’s true. It was like we were surrounded by the Dungeons and Dragons Club.

I’ve got nothing against geeks. That would be E: drive calling the C: drive “Formatted”. But that was just weird. Next subject…

Nowadays, people really froth at the mouth to bitch about the commercials we have to sit through before a movie. The big gripe is: “I paid to see a movie, not commercials.” Whine-whine-whine. Except, most movies are filled with product placement. Oh, they don’t bitch about the subliminal stuff. Drink Pepsi. They’ll sit there and piss and moan. Eat at McDonald’s. Yet not pick up on the shit that’s on the screen. Buy Sony.

However, it’s really odd that when you pay $10 for a movie, you get the commercials. When you watch a sneak-peak, you get one trailer (maybe) and the movie. You’d think that the theater would make you sit through and hour of marketing to make up for the lost revenue and they've got a captive audience. Next subject…

My wife…who I love beyond measure and is one of the smartest people I know…asked a truly dumb question during this movie.

We’ve established that it was a Jessica Alba swimsuit movie. Ms. Alba spends at least 70% of this movie underwater and in a bikini. There is one sequence that she’s underwater in a wet suit, but there’s exactly 30 seconds worth of film with her IN the wet suit. The camera angles in this movie were shot by a guy who, what I would guess, is a close friend of Ms. Alba…or her OBGYN. You see Jessica’s butt in most underwater scenes. It’s also painfully obvious that it was cold in the sea during the shoot.

Anyway, half-way through the flick, my beautiful/smart wife leaned over and whispered in my ear:

“How many scenes need ass in this picture?”

I gave no outward reply. I’ve been married for 8 years. Guys, you do NOT reply to that question. However…my inner monologue replied:

“Every damned one of them!”

American cinema is built on Ass.

If you want brainy comedies, you go to England. If you want cartoons, you go to Japan. If you want action, you go to Hong Kong. If you want movies that look like they were shot in the 80’s, you go to Australia. If you want movies that make absolutely no fucking sense at all, you go to France or India.

But, if you want Ass…you look no further than America, baby! Every movie made in America has got ass. Why? Because the best ass comes from America. No other nation can boast about their ass. Other countries fear our ass.

Why did all the women in Afghanistan had to wear those durka’s. Not because of some ultra-suppressive religious state. Nope. It was because their men wanted to hide their women’s scrawny asses.

One more thing, then I’m done…

Have you noticed the trend in Hollywood today where most of the women look like transvestites from the planet Vulcan? Ladies, the penciled eyebrow thing is SO done. It’s just not natural to have eyebrows that are a full four inches from your eyeball. This constant look of surprise only worked for Bozo. Find something new to fuck with at the salon…please. I would rather see women stop shaving their underarms or grow a brillo pad down under than see this fad continue.

Web Cams, another reason not to leave your couch.

2005-09-28T20:50:00.000-05:00

Have you ever heard the term: “I’m so bored I could watch the grass grow.”

Now you can watch the leaves turn. Enjoy Indiana has set up cameras that update every 15mins so that you, the bored masses, can view the leaves turn color before clogging my gutters.

I can’t help but think of the scene from The Meaning of Life, where the leaves in a tree are so depressed they throw themselves, screaming, to their demise.

Have we come to this? Do we really live in a world where we’re so freak’n busy that we have to watch nature on a monitor?

“But, Kyu, you’re a guy working on a laptop and a PC at the same time.”

I reserve the right to wallow in my hypocrisy. However, at least I get out to do stuff like this.

And if you really want to watch grass grow, go here. But please, get out once and awhile, put the mouse down and go watch leaves end their sad existence. If you don't live in a region where the seasons change, go buy a small tree and kill it. You'll feel so much better. At least I will.

Motorola and T-Mobile can suck sack.

2005-09-26T23:23:00.000-05:00

I hate my phone. Yeah, I know…people bitch about their phone all the time, but I really hate my phone. It’s a Motorola with T-Mobile as the service provider. It sucks.

“Some people don’t even have phones, Kyu.”

Then they are the lucky ones, because this is a hunk of shit.

Top Ten Reasons why my phone sucks:

10. It’s a flip phone. I’ve lost more calls because I can’t answer this damn thing with one hand. I have to flip it open to answer. If I grab it the wrong way, it answers and hangs up at the same time. Sorry Mom.

9. The ringer on the loudest setting sounds like two mice fingering each other. I work in an industrial setting. I need a phone that rings like air-raid klaxon.

8. The screen rests on your face and becomes dirtier than a peep-show window. Maybe I need to use Stridex ® more often, but I can’t talk on the phone without splooging my screen with face oil.

7. It has a flashing yellow light when it has a signal and a flashing red light when it doesn’t. What deaf industrial engineer came up with this bright idea? Let’s put a fucking ridiculously annoying flashing light on our phone that’s on all the time. (The only thing good about this feature is that anyone else that has this phone must turn the damn thing off in a theater or they’ll look like they're a strobe beacon for a light aircraft field.

6. Every time I “miss” a call, I get three text messages: A) the announcement that I missed a call. (thanks.) B) the announcement that the phone call I missed is not an unknown number. C)the phone number I missed. What a clutter of shit. I have to hit 6 buttons before I can clear one missed call from my phone.

5. T-Mobile…get more. Get more what exactly? I leave a major interstate and I get no signal. I can’t get to download most of the content from the T-Mobile web site T-Zones ™ because my phone is just this side of obsolete. I can’t get why this phone was even allowed into the market place.

4. The camera that comes with this phone is not built in, it’s an attachment. You insert this camera into the bottom of the phone similarly to how you insert the charger. The charger has a little male end that slips into the bottom of the phone and has a catch-release button to remove from the phone. The camera does not have this button and must be torn violently from the phone, causing obvious damage after each use. The camera attachment is about ¼ the size of the phone and seems to be created to be permanently attached…but, then how would someone charge the phone? Morons.

3. Dropped calls. This phone drops a call faster than Keyshawn Johnson (circa 2001). I live in a major metropolitan city and I drop calls in my kitchen. I can walk from one end of the warehouse that I work in to the other and drop service three times. I can stand in one place and drop a call.

2. This one almost made number one. The voicemail system. Ok, this phone has a message feature with several different selections. You can, supposedly send text messages, receive pages, and receive voicemail. Under the “messages” menu, there is a listing next to each feature for the number of messages yet to read and those that have been read…which looks like this:
Message inbox: 1 / 8.
This would mean I have one message to read and 8 that I’ve read. The voicemail has read:
“Voicemail 0” for the last two years.
Why? Because this phone doesn’t use the Voicemail line to let me know I have voicemail…Nope…this service sends me a text message to notify me that I have a voicemail. Every time. Just like the “missed call” feature, I’ve got to go through 6 keystrokes on a PHONE, to clear a TEXT message that tells me I have a VOICEmail. I spend more time punching buttons on this device each day than I have writing this article.

1. I can’t get a new phone or service. My company pays for this piece of shit. I’ve begged, I’ve pleaded, I’ve threatened to run this over with a forklift and chuck it into the retention pond 40 yards from our building and they still won’t get a new service. I’m stuck with this device like luggage and herpes.

As a side note, because of my plight I feel no remorse what so ever in running up the minutes talking to friends across the country and installing inappropriate ring-tones. (Ice, Ice Baby; Theme from the Austin Powers movies; Don’t Worry-Be Happy; Pirates Life for Me from the Pirates of the Caribbean Ride at Disney.)

A Rose by any other name...

2005-09-23T23:03:00.000-05:00

Lame, overused title...but:

ref●u●gee \,fer-yoo-‘jē\ n: 1. one that flees 2. one who flees to a foreign country or power to escape danger or persecution.

evac●u●ee \,ē-vak-yoo-‘wē\ n: an evacuated person.

Tell me what the difference is between these two words and the people in New Orleans, Mississippi, and Alabama. Both apply. Especially in the case of New Orleans. You had two types of people: people who got the fuck up out of Dodge and those who stayed behind and had to be carried out.

“We don’t like to be called ‘refugee’, because it’s derogatory.”

Why? What makes ‘refugee’ a derogatory word? You ran from a mother-fucker of a storm that donkey-punched your city. You fled from danger. It wasn’t political, but you still fled.

I think “refugee” should be used in this case because it sounds much more serious than “evacuee.” People should be looking at this as a demoralizing situation that never should have happened in this country. Calling these people “evacuees” makes it sound like they were ferried around on the backs of fire trucks for a couple of blocks, instead of stuck in the Sauna-dome and on roof-tops for a week.

You know why these people don’t want to be labeled as “refugees”? Because white middle and upper class reporters called them that. So, naturally, when whitey calls a group of more than 3 blacks a name, it’s derogatory.

“But Kyu, some of these evacuees were white.”

Yeah, and how many of them bitched about it?

I’m sorry you lived in a pool. I’m sorry that you were poor. I’m sorry you lived in an area with no jobs. I’m sorry that you spent your government check on smokes and liquor and couldn’t afford to buy a bus ticket for you and your twelve kids. I’m sorry that none of your neighbors, who did get out, offered you a ride. I’m sorry that your elected officials sat on their hands for the last few decades.

Here’s some derogatory words that applied to a lot of the people who still complain about the word ‘refugee’:

Apathetic, larcenous, egocentric, sadistic, ignorant, rapacious, mobbish, treacherous, miotic, self-serving, non-genuine, drivellers, society-leach, pedophilic, separatistic, rapists.

Abu Ghraib AV Club: Canceled

2005-09-22T21:04:00.000-05:00

Here’s a story that’s getting buried under a Hurricane:

Remember Lynndie England? She’s the little troll faced dog trainer from the party pictures at the Abu Ghraib prison. She’s currently going through her court martial hearings. Her sausage slinging “ex”boyfriend who was tapped as being the master mind behind the festivities testified against her today.

Here’s a little nugget that he dropped during the trial:

“The prisoner was not injured, so I believe I did nothing wrong.”

He had them stacked in a naked pyramid, dog collared, and forced to masturbate all while he, his buddies, and fuck hole took pictures. Now this may sound like boys camp at St. Francis of the Talking Horse, but no this was a prison full of alleged terrorists and Koran touting martyrs. (Hard to take a side here.)

Here’s what he did wrong: HE TOOK FUCKING PICTURES!

Every sick-perv who’s worth his weight in black jelly dongs knows that you never EVER take picures. If you absolutely must take a photo to remember your romantic evening, never stand IN the picture…it’s all about the scenery and the subject matter.

Never talk about it...never write about it...and never, ever take pictures of it. You always get caught.

Next you’ll tell me that Richard Hatch is Gay.

2005-09-19T23:31:00.000-05:00

Kate Moss admits that she uses cocaine. Oooh, big surprise. Lose the make-up and the $100,000 dress, throw on some torn stockings and she’ll look like most crack whores. Scrawny and in need of a fix.

Here’s the kicker: her employer, the Hennes & Mauritz clothing chain, “disapproves” of this type of behavior, so Moss said she was sorry and that she wouldn’t do it again. Well, sort of. She claims that she’ll abide by the company’s policy to be “healthy, wholesome and sound”.

She better start eating some Double Quarter Pounders™.

Yeah, I made that same promise to my Mom when she found me smoking weed in the garage. (Sitting in a lawn chair, sucking smoke from a bong made from a two liter, aluminum foil, and a ¼ inch socket…yeah, not a good image.) That didn’t stop me from eating brownies.

I give her two months and she’ll be back to snort’n lines off of Billy Zane’s cock.

Parents who hate their children, Vol. 1

2005-09-18T01:00:00.000-05:00

Have you ever heard someone’s name and immediately think that their parents must have hated them? This column is dedicated to those select people in our world whose parents wished they died from SIDS.

Our first installment is a gentleman whose current claim to fame is to be violently hated by most of Texas. (I’m not a Texan, but my guess is that anyone who bashes a Texan instantly becomes hated by half that state…the other half speaks Spanish.) He is the chairman of the World Anti-Doping Agency. This organization has been allegedly attempting to defame the One Nutted Texan who has won the largest bicycle race in the world a record seven times. Apparently, no one outside of America believes that an American can actually be a successful athlete without being on drugs…thanks Barry.

The man is named Richard W. Pound. Dick Pound.
Dick Pound hails from Quebec, and while they do speak French in Quebec, the humor in his name could not be lost on his classmates. Can you imagine growing up named Dick Pound? Morning Roll Call would sound like this…

Teacher: “Palermo…Donny?”

Donny: “Here”

Teacher: “Pound…Dick”

Class: laughter

This guy’s school life must have been sheer hell. Think of all the jokes. It boggles the mind. (Dick Pounder, Pound of Dick, etc.)

It’s probably a wonder to most of his high school that he didn’t throw himself in front of a runaway Zamboni or something.

Old Dick is a former Olympian who competed in the 100m freestyle. So that would make him a Wet Dick Pound.

Ahhhh…the poor bastard. Sure, he’s rich, successful, and moderately powerful, but he’s still a Dick Pound.

Another part of American Culture, STOLEN!

2005-09-16T22:53:00.000-05:00

Ok Americans, once again one of our national past times is being assaulted by foreign nationals. A past time that we invented is being misused and a record is held by a Sri Lankan – Canadian…or is it a Canadian –Sri Lankan. Whatever, he probably plays Hockey

That’s right, Suresh Joachim, a Canadian originally from Sri Lanka, now holds the world record for watching T.V. at 69 hours, 48 minutes.

The Hot Dog eating contest wasn’t enough. No! Now their targeting us at our very CORE!

Admittedly, this guy definitely had an edge. I mean, have you ever watched Canadian television? Hockey and news. Sri Lankan television? Please. Not one I Love Lucy or Law & Order re-run. You savages call that entertainment!?! Suresh comes to America and he can’t help but watch T.V. for 3 days straight.

But, c’mon…I know there’s an American who can beat this record. We’ve got 900 channels and TiVO. We’ve got channels dedicated to 24 hours worth of cartoons and porn. Hell, I’ve been training for this event most of my life! All Americans have!

I challenge you unemployed X-Gen’rs. You can do it! Make your country proud.

You lost what???

2005-09-16T00:04:00.000-05:00

The AP reports that the Public Health Research Institute on the campus of the University of Medicine and Dentistry of New Jersey LOST three mice that carry the bubonic plague. This group apparently studies bioterrorism for the Feds. What they don’t research is inventory management.

Now they’re playing it off like it’s no big deal. Don’t worry, America, go back to sleep. Three sick as fuck mice are missing…but don’t miss an episode of Gilmore Girls or the O.C. over it we’ve got it “under control”.

State Commish Freddie “Black Death” Jacobs says, “Faggedaboutit, dooz freek’n mouses gotta be axed by now.”

Yeah, he says that because the Dentists have been missing the mice for quite sometime and no one would have known if the Feds weren’t already investigating the school for finance corruption.

You know, I really want to continue to freak out on the mice, but something is nagging at me more. It’s the fact that this school feels the need to separate Dentistry from Medicine.

How is dentistry not considered part of the medical profession? If you take out all the medieval torture devices, smoking hot dental technicians, and the occasional anesthestical rape…it’s still got a doctor who administers medical attention to a specific part of your body and give prescriptions for some kick-ass pain killers. (Fake a toothache, get some vicoden…it really works.)

Then my two minute attention span focuses on the fact that they’re studying bioterrorism next to root canals. Oh…you’re right…that does make more sense.

Just for Men...Proud Sponsor of the NFL

2005-09-09T00:36:00.000-05:00

Thank God, it’s football season again. Football is the only sport that I can stomach watching. It does, however have it’s drawbacks. (Like I wasn’t going to bitch about something.)

So, the NFL decides to have a kick-off party and invite “today’s” top recording artists. Who starts it off? The Rolling Stones. I love the ‘Stones…but, holy shit they are getting old. I mean like Great Grandpa just sit on his balls old. It was a spectacle to behold.

Mick Jagger looked great, for a 900 year old. He puts the “rock” in rocking chair. I was sitting in front of my TV, watching old Mick prance around stage waving his flabby arms, thinking…he’s going to die right here. This old guy is going to fall over and die on National TV.

Then I spotted Keith Richards and the “other” guitarist. (Yeah, no one remembers his name, he’s just the “other guitarist in the Rolling Stones with the big nose.) Keith is tore up from the floor up…there’s just no other way to say it.

These guys are Legends of Rock ‘N Roll…there’s no doubt…but, c’mon Mick…put the mic down. There ain’t nothing sexy about Father Time sticking the microphone in his leather pants.

AND QUIT DYING YOUR FUCKING HAIR. Who the hell do you think you’re kidding? The only guy in the ‘Stones, who’s not delusional is the drummer…senile, maybe…but he can still keep time and he let his hair go grey.

Vigilant-astic

2005-09-08T00:36:00.000-05:00

Do what you will with this one…

The AP put out a story about a guy, Michael Anthony Mullen, in Washington State that confessed to killing two convicted child molesters. Read about it here.

There are two things I want to point out about this story that the AP didn’t follow-up on or just didn’t give a shit.

These two sex offenders were roommates.
These two sex offenders were roommates with a third fuck-tard who unfortunately left before his fuck-buddies were offed.

This is why the left is destroying our society. Three…THREE sex offenders…and I’m not talking about three guys who stick lamp-posts up their asses for kicks, these are the jack-pipes that cruise playgrounds and play slap and tickle while watching Barney…lived together.

We need to ask ourselves how is it that these three individuals were allowed to live together? What were they planning? (Don’t give me any shit about them not planning something…three rapists living together, do the math, eventually something bad was going to happen.) How were they able to find each other? (I retract that, they were obviously easy to find.)

I’ll tell you why these scum-bunnies were together: because the radical Left have cut off the balls of Justice. These three should never have been allowed to leave prison. You rape a child, you give up your life, rot in prison…sentenced to life getting raped. That’s exactly what they deserved, but because of the touchy-feely fucks that want us to believe that “it wasn’t their fault, it was their upbringing/culture/addiction/other excuse.”

Bullshit.

Everyone has a choice.

Another question not asked: Why did Michael do it? What was his motivation? The AP isn’t going after that one. You know why? Because they’re afraid more people will use sites like this to track down these molesters and do the same thing.

Responsible journalism…yeah, right.

I’m not condoning being a vigilante. My big gripe is that because of all the garbage that happens in our courts, men like Michael Mullen are compelled to go out and deal out a little justice. Justice should have been served long before Michael went searching. Justice should have prevented these three rectal sores from ever seeing the outside of a cage…let alone living together.

FISH!

2005-09-04T02:16:00.000-05:00

I’m not going to make any friends with this one.

I am so fucking sick and tired of hearing about how down trodden Blacks are in America; of how there aren’t any opportunities. “A black man just can’t get ahead in this world.” That’s fucking bullshit.

This isn’t 1962. This isn’t even close to 1982. There are so many opportunities out there it’s ridiculous. But, you see, here’s the thing…you’ve got to WORK for it.

GASP!

Yeah…I said WORK. If one more person spouts off that rhetoric about how a white man makes more than a black man junk, I may throw my self under a bus. Yes…I’m white. Yes…I make more than most of the black men that work for my company.

“There, you see…white man makes more than a black man.”

Yeah, I’ve also been with the company for 7 years AND I actually show some willingness to accept responsibility.

Here’s a perfect example for why I’m a cynic:

It took me 3 years to get to the position I have now in the company. I started as an entry level warehouse worker. I’ve done every shit job in that warehouse and I know what it takes to get it done. Now, I’m a project manager.

There are several key positions out in the warehouse that have seen some turn-over: Receiving Supervisor, Parcel Shipping Lead, and Quality Control. Each time these positions become available, the company attempts to promote from within. We’re not a union shop (don’t get me started on that bullshit institution), but we do go through the steps of offering the position to those with seniority first.

In the last 5 years, these positions have been open 3 times, not simultaneously…so that’s 9 opportunities for advancement in five years. In regards to seniority, each time these positions have been available, the first three to 5 candidates were all black. Every single time.

Out of 9 opportunities, only twice…TWICE…did a Black man step up to accept higher responsibilities. Every one of those guys had the traits to be a leader, and they passed on it. Even if they didn’t have ANY managerial experience, the company was willing to send them to leadership courses…COLLEGE CREDIT COURSES…and they pussied out.

It’s a God damn disgrace.
“But Kyu, that’s not enough time to come up with an argument like this. You can’t pass judgment on only 5 years worth of data.”

The fuck I can’t…this is my blog…go fuck yourself lefty.

Don’t misconstrue my argument, here. I’m not saying that all black people are self-absorbed, non-motivated, irresponsible sloths. Nope…that ain’t it. That behavior has got NOTHING to do with race….every race has got a bus load of mouth-breathing fuck-tards that need to be driven over a cliff to save the rest of us. My point is that there ARE lots of opportunities out there…and no one is taking them…yet they’re blaming me for being a White guy with a higher paying job.

You can give a man a fish…
You can teach a man to fish…
You can even teach a man how to teach others to fish…

But don’t persecute the teacher for having fish, when the student chose NOT to fish.

The beginning...

2005-09-02T22:37:00.000-05:00

Look, I get pissed off daily at the world around me. I'm going to sound off here. I'll mispell words, type in run on sentences, forget punctuation, put, puncuation in the wrong space, and probably use really big words incoherently. I'll save to you trouble of correcting me...I don't care.

Feel my pain.