First, the bad news (as is always the case, because the good news alleviates the pain):
The top tier domain name, "1evilmofo.com," has expired.
I know, my lovelies, I know... but fret not.
When I started this blog several years ago, I was a little pissy to say the least. When my friend decided to register the name last year for my birthday, it was a beautiful thing and I diligently updated the site with enough vitriol to make Rush Limbaugh look like the harmless old three-legged, twice-neutered pussycat he is. Some 30,000 views later, this blog has wound down. I watch less news these days. I have a fucking amazing support system. I have dreams, aspirations, and one hell of a woman on my six.
I'm pursuing a project twenty years in the making, and it requires my full attention (minus, of course, that which I give to Slightly Evolved).
So, while this has been (and will again be) a tremendous amount of fun, I must bid "1evilmofo.com" adieu. There will be the occasional rant (for that is my nature), but they will be sparse.
Hear comes the good news:
I am, as you read this with a tear in your eye, compiling these rants, and others that haven't yet been published here, and binding them into a small, rectangular object, called a "book."
This will be available very fucking soon through Amazon, and I hope the extra bells and whistles, and nostalgia you feel as you flip through the pages is enough to soothe your aching soul as you wait with bated breath for the release of The Icarus Project.
Should you be so inclined, you can donate to the publication of The Icarus Project here:
Thank you. Every last one of you. I'll see you in a bit.
The unfiltered, unabated, unabashed ramblings of a man in a state of perpetual righteous indignation.
Showing posts with label rant. Show all posts
Showing posts with label rant. Show all posts
Thursday, July 10, 2014
Sunday, December 23, 2012
Solve For Why
Last year, I did a rather short, yet not necessarily sweet post about X-mas titled Solve For X. If you haven't understood yet, yes, this is a companion piece. Rather than go through the same ridiculous drudgery of yet again trying to explain that it doesn't fucking matter what you wish someone this holiday season, as long as it's well, I think I'll simply offer some food for thought.
"...administering medicine to the dead" and all that.
Do you wish people Merry Christmas? Good. That's very nice of you.
Do wish them a Happy Hannu... channu... chana... festival of lights? Good. That's nice as well.
Do wish them a Happy Kwanzaa? Also nice.
Joyous solstice? Nice.
Fun Saturnalia? Nice.
And guess what? Happy Holidays? Also a very nice thing to wish someone.
I guess the point is: STOP FUCKING WHINING ABOUT WHAT PEOPLE SAY! Seriously, the appropriate response to any sentiment that can be easily interpreted as " I wish pleasantries for you and your family at this time of year, and bear no ill will toward you" is "thank you."
A simple "thank you."
That's all that's required.
Many people see fit to correct you if you wish them the wrong thing. Many want to provide you with an in depth dissertation that tediously meanders through all their reasoning (whether backed up by solid arguments, or not) as to why what they want you to say is the correct form of greeting. I know this is decidedly uncharacteristic of me, but it truly, honestly, absolutely does not matter a single half of an iota what words someone uses to wish you well.
You're missing the point.
The point is that they are wishing you well. They aren't trying to tell you that 2+2= π, they are offering you good tidings. Period.
The proper response is "thank you."
Or "you as well."
Or "same to you."
Hell, even "ditto" is better than some hipster looking askance at you while seething about what you should have said, beard dripping with self-righteous douchebaggery.
This season... and I mean this with all sincerity... this season I truly do wish the best for each and every one of you. Whatever your preferred celebration is titled, I want you to have a good one, or a merry one, or a happy one, or a joyous one, or a pleasant one.
In other words: At this time of year, when many people are celebrating many things, each in their own way, I wish no harm or ill will toward you and yours.
I'm not saying that won't change later, or next year, or next decade. Hell, I might want some of you to take a long walk off a short cliff later, who knows. As for right now, however, and in the foreseeable future, I thank each and every one of you readers from the bottom of my evil, black heart, and I wish you the best. Whatever that best is to you.
You're welcome.
Friday, November 16, 2012
You Misspelled Carpe Diem, You Jackass!
YOLO.
You only live once.
Really?
Despite the fact that Roald Dahl and Sean Connery debunked this brain cell assassinating gem in 1967 (thereby rendering any and all of your arguments invalid in one swarthy, sexy, Scottish fell swoop), it seems it needs some more clarification.
Fine.
This abomination is supposed to be "carpe diem" for the new generation.
It isn't.
What it is, is a grossly over-used, ridiculous, myopic statement that has blossomed into colloquial lexicons everywhere with a connotation bathed in more irony than the fact that most people don't know what the fuck "irony" means.
Why?
It isn't a reason to do anything. It's a reason NOT to. It isn't a justification, you assholes, it's a warning.
Need an example? Fine. First, though, you have to understand what you're saying (something it seems has been lost in this younger generation). This asinine acronym stands for "You Only Live Once" and whoever is responsible for its sudden uptrend needs to be punched squarely in the junk. "You only live once" is precisely a reason to not do stupid shit that may result in the sudden and violent revocation of your breathing privileges. Furthermore, this isn't what you mean. You don't mean "I'm going to jump into that gorilla pen and steal his banana, because you only live once..." unless you're suicidal, in which case, go right the fuck ahead. What you mean - you poorly educated, easily-manipulated sheeple - is "carpe diem." It's Latin for "seize the day." Not withstanding the fact that seizing the day (or an angry gorilla's banana, for that matter) isn't always a wise decision, the point remains the same.
"Let's go wake up that angry Irish woman 3 hours before she needs to get up and go to a job she can only barely stand, because YOLO."
No.
Stop.
First of all, you mean "carpe" fucking "diem," not "YOLO." Secondly, and perhaps most importantly, if you're going to do this because you only live once, you're implicitly admitting that you no longer wish to occupy this mortal coil, dumbass.
I know this just seems like I'm shaking one fist while clutching a shotgun in the other, standing on my porch in an open bathrobe and boxers while demanding that you get the fuck off my lawn, but I do have a point. That point is that if you're going to keep using this ludicrous acronym that serves as little more than a clear indication of douchbaggery, the least you could do is use it correctly. For instance, "I'm going to get the fuck off this crazy old coot's lawn, because YOLO, and I'm not done yet."
Here's a quick reference for you asshats:
Carpe Diem (Sieze the day) because:
YOLO (You only live once) because:
I hope this clears things up for you people, because now that you've been sufficiently warned, the trolling will begin with immediate effect.
You only live once.
Really?
Despite the fact that Roald Dahl and Sean Connery debunked this brain cell assassinating gem in 1967 (thereby rendering any and all of your arguments invalid in one swarthy, sexy, Scottish fell swoop), it seems it needs some more clarification.
Fine.
This abomination is supposed to be "carpe diem" for the new generation.
It isn't.
What it is, is a grossly over-used, ridiculous, myopic statement that has blossomed into colloquial lexicons everywhere with a connotation bathed in more irony than the fact that most people don't know what the fuck "irony" means.
Why?
It isn't a reason to do anything. It's a reason NOT to. It isn't a justification, you assholes, it's a warning.
Need an example? Fine. First, though, you have to understand what you're saying (something it seems has been lost in this younger generation). This asinine acronym stands for "You Only Live Once" and whoever is responsible for its sudden uptrend needs to be punched squarely in the junk. "You only live once" is precisely a reason to not do stupid shit that may result in the sudden and violent revocation of your breathing privileges. Furthermore, this isn't what you mean. You don't mean "I'm going to jump into that gorilla pen and steal his banana, because you only live once..." unless you're suicidal, in which case, go right the fuck ahead. What you mean - you poorly educated, easily-manipulated sheeple - is "carpe diem." It's Latin for "seize the day." Not withstanding the fact that seizing the day (or an angry gorilla's banana, for that matter) isn't always a wise decision, the point remains the same.
"Let's go wake up that angry Irish woman 3 hours before she needs to get up and go to a job she can only barely stand, because YOLO."
No.
Stop.
First of all, you mean "carpe" fucking "diem," not "YOLO." Secondly, and perhaps most importantly, if you're going to do this because you only live once, you're implicitly admitting that you no longer wish to occupy this mortal coil, dumbass.
I know this just seems like I'm shaking one fist while clutching a shotgun in the other, standing on my porch in an open bathrobe and boxers while demanding that you get the fuck off my lawn, but I do have a point. That point is that if you're going to keep using this ludicrous acronym that serves as little more than a clear indication of douchbaggery, the least you could do is use it correctly. For instance, "I'm going to get the fuck off this crazy old coot's lawn, because YOLO, and I'm not done yet."
Here's a quick reference for you asshats:
Carpe Diem (Sieze the day) because:
- You've never been skydiving before.
- You have a choice: Bacon, or no bacon (hint: ALWAYS go with bacon).
- You could either go to a concert, or stay home and knit.
- You're thinking of learning a new language or skill.
- You need to get off the fucking couch and go outside.
YOLO (You only live once) because:
- It's a bad idea to stand in the middle of a busy intersection.
- That gorilla really wants the banana, and he's SO much bigger than you.
- Irish women, while beautiful, can be very, very aggressive when annoyed, and if you're in range, it's your fault.
- Life sucks, so thank goodness you only have to do it once (for you dramatic types).
- You've taken Liam Neeson's daughter, and he's given you an ultimatum.
Thursday, September 27, 2012
An Open Letter to Verizon
Dear Verizon, please stop feeding your online customer service people lead paint chips.
It's really affecting their productivity.
This is the actual text I entered into Verizon's handy "tell us what you think" box at the end of the online chat. You know, that little applet that allows you to give feedback on your experience, and ostensibly give their customer support people glowing reviews for their helpfulness:
"This was the most horrendous chat experience I've ever had. It took four attempts to get Kayla to answer two very simple, extraordinarily basic questions, and I still ended the chat without having them answered. This agent was absolutely, unequivocally useless, and I have no idea how she maintains her employ. I repeatedly explained that I am deaf, and she repeatedly recommended that I call customer service. I don't know if it's a word with which she is unfamiliar or not, but I can assure you that it means I literally can not hear. It's physically impossible. After explaining that, she continued to recommend that I call customer service. I don't know how you managed to find the most daft person on the planet to engage a live chat, but my hat's off to you, because I'm certain it was a lengthy search, and I'm quite surprised she could even type without hurting herself. I assure you, I could find three marmosets with down syndrome that could do a better job."What's that, you say? Why would I feel the need to lambaste poor Kayla in such a way? Well, I'll show you. You'll notice any additional commentary exclusive to this blog post is in red. This is for two reasons: 1) I wish to separate any accidental hilarity induced by the actual conversation from any intentional hilarity induced by myself for this blog, and B) red is a good color for when one is typing out of pure unadulterated fury.
Chat Subject:Upgrade Existing Services
Your Question:Just doing some basic research on upgrading to FiOS.
A Verizon Service Representative will be with you shortly. Thank you.
Agent Kayla has joined.
Kayla : Chat ID for this session is 09271296593. (Technical jibber jabber).
Kayla: Thank you for choosing Verizon and visiting our chat service. I would be happy to assist you with your question. Unbeknownst to me, this is the first lie.
For quality and security purposes, your session is recorded and may be monitored or reviewed. Go ahead, review it. I fucking dare you. Please do not provide sensitive information such as social security, bank account or credit card numbers to the chat agent because things like numbers scare and confuse them, and frankly, the therapy bills we'd be responsible for are outrageous. May we view your account information, including the services you subscribe to, to assist you during this chat with respect to available Verizon products and services? I'm relatively certain that's why I initiated this debacle-to-be. You may deny us permission, which will have no effect on your current services. Under federal law, it is your right and our duty to protect your account information. May I have permission to review your account?
KRIS LEEDS: Yes.
Kayla: Hello! How may I assist you today.
KRIS LEEDS: I'm just doing some research on FiOS. I need to know a couple of things. First, is it possible to get FiOS internet and TV without the phone service. I don't need the phone, because as a deaf person, I don't use it. (Just me trying to inject a bit of levity into the day of someone who I'm sure comes across irritated people and angry fuckwits all day long, but still get the information across).
Kayla: Yes you can go for double bundle package of FiOS TV and Internet service.
KRIS LEEDS: Okay, and how much is that?
KRIS LEEDS: The lowest one, we're still poor at the moment.
Kayla: Please give me a moment to check for you. (Or ten).
Kayla: I just double check your account details. You currently have High Speed Internet service and Home Phone service of Verizon.
Kayla: You need to continue with the Home Phone service.
Kayla: You will get the best triple bundle package with the price you are able to view above the "Add to Cart" Button.
KRIS LEEDS: Why? I only accepted the home phone service because it was mandatory to get the DSL (true), and they told me I could upgrade to FiOS when it came around and drop it (also true). Now, I get a letter that basically says FiOS is a mandatory upgrade (quite surprising, but equally true), and you're telling me I have to keep a service I LITERALLY CAN'T USE?! (stunningly true).
Another ten minute delay...
KRIS LEEDS: Hello?
Kayla: Let me assist you here. Assist me? A novel idea. Here, I thought I had come for cookies and milk!
Kayla(13:49:02): I would suggest you to call your Verizon local business office and check all the options available to cancel your Home Phone service and then order the FiOS TV and Internet service.
KRIS LEEDS(13:49:50): Wow... did you seriously just recommend that I call someone? Did that just happen? Are you not paying attention at all?
Apparently, I signed up for Verizon's ten-minutes-before-you-get-an-answer-of-any-fucking-kind package.
KRIS LEEDS(13:51:43): How easy is it to transfer FiOS if we move? Can you answer that without directing me elsewhere, please? I opened the chat so I could communicate with someone to assist me.
Kayla(13:54:48): Let me assist you here. (I think you better had).
Kayla(13:56:24): You can switch to FiOS Verizon service at any time as your location is upgraded to FiOS Verizon service. ... Here, I've deleted a long spiel that could easily be a script idea for Mojo Jojo for the sake of your own sanity. You're welcome, but let me synopsize: This is where Kayla tells me about all the things I already have, and what's involved with getting those things. in other words, information I don't need about a service I'm already consuming which answers exactly zero of my questions.
KRIS LEEDS(13:57:05): Okay, so back to my original question: How much for the double package?
Kayla(13:58:36): Once you drop the Home Phone service by calling Verizon local business office. They will canel the Home Phone service manually and then you can come online at any time to check the double play price available to you as per your account with special discount as Valued Verizon existing customer. I didn't ask you that.
Kayla(13:59:47): The regular price for Prime HD TV plan and 15/5 Internet plan is $79.99/month. "However to check what price you will get. Please come online once you call your Verizon local business office and cancel the standard Home Phone service.
KRIS LEEDS(14:01:27): Was that so hard? Now, as far as the second question: how easy is it to transfer service if we move? Please don't give me a standard answer from a drop down menu. Just the facts. Also: do I need a tech to come out? Is it a lengthy install process?
Kayla(14:02:12): You will be able to select installation date available as per your location on installation date selection page, before you decide to submit your order. Not what I asked you.
Kayla(14:02:28): It takes 4 to 6 hours for installation process. Sort of answers one part of the question, but not really.
Kayla(14:04:03): Technician will come on the date of Installation which you select on installation date page, before you decide to submit your order. Still doesn't answer my question.
KRIS LEEDS(14:04:44): I'm still having trouble with one fundamental flaw in this logic: If I drop the phone service, I will no longer have internet (because I'm currently using DSL). How, then, will I be able to check the prices online for the double package? Please notify me immediately if this isn't a damned good point.
Kayla(14:06:19): That is the reason, I am suggesting you to call your Verizon local business office to check all the options available. WHY DO YOU KEEP SUGGESTING I CALL?!
KRIS LEEDS(14:08:00): At this point, it's obviously just easier to switch and downgrade. So how easy is it to transfer the service if we move? (Please note this is the fourth time I've asked you this question, and my patience is wearing thin).
Kayla(14:10:35): I understand your concern, You will be able to order the FiOS TV and Internet service of Verizon. You will be able to select installation date on installation date selection page once you proceed with the order and before you decide to submit your order. But for that I would suggest you to call your Verizon local business office as you need to drop the Home Phone service. Now she's avoiding my question and making stupid suggestions in the same sentence. This is where I become one of those angry fuckwits.
Kayla(14:11:26): Please call your Verizon local business office to check all the options available as online, It is not possible to cancel your current Home Phone service. Another marvelous suggestion from the captain of the idiot brigade.
KRIS LEEDS(14:11:57): Okay, you're seriously not paying attention. HOW. EASY. IS IT. TO TRANSFER. SERVICE. IF. WE. MOVE!
Kayla(14:12:37): May I know if you are moving to new location correct or if you just need to switch your Standard Verizon service to FiOS Verizon service?
KRIS LEEDS(14:15:16): I'm doing my best to keep a civil tone, but you are really trying my patience. Please tell me in the most succinct, and straight forward way what is involved in transferring the FiOS service from one address to another. I can't possibly be more clear with the question.
Kayla(14:15:41): I am sorry for any inconvenience.
Kayla(14:16:42): You can transfer your FiOS Verizon or any Verizon service to new location if Verizon service is available at your new location. If you go with 2 year agreement for double play of FiOS. It comes with $230 early termination fee prorated to $10/month.
Kayla(14:17:22): If you suppose cancel the service before 3 month to your 2 year agreement it will be $30 as early termination fee.
Kayla(14:17:47): You can even go for month to month plan service for double play of FiOS TV and Internet, It comes without any contract.
DAFUQ DID I JUST READ?
KRIS LEEDS(14:18:11): Okay, seriously. Are you a real person, or am I arguing with a bot? I truly wasn't sure at this point. I'm not looking to terminate service. Stop giving me that information. NOW. I want to know what is involved in moving service from one address to another. Is that really such a difficult question?!
Kayla(14:18:46): If you go with month to month plan, You will get price lock for 12 months and the price will increase by $10/month after 12 months and if you go with 2 year agreement you will get 24 months price lock. Please note that this is a lie that doesn't answer my question.
Kayla(14:19:07): I am explaining the moving process of the Verizon service to new location. Also a lie that doesn't answer my question.
KRIS LEEDS(14:21:47): No, you're not. You're explaining the contracts and fees logistics, of which I'm fully aware. What I want to know is how easy moving FiOS from one physical location to another is. It ought not to involve any cancellation, termination, suspension, or modification of service. is it a matter of moving the equipment with us, a tech coming out and doing it, or what?
Kayla(14:22:42): You can move your Verizon service to new location if Verizon service is available at your new location. You will be able get all the package and price as new customer and will be able to select installation date for new location and deactivation date for existing location on installation date selection page, before you decide to submit your order.
Kayla(14:23:18): You will get prepaid label cover to return your existing equipment. Another lie.
KRIS LEEDS(14:23:41): So in other words, transferring service isn't an option at all. It would require a termination of service at location A, and a new service request at location B, correct? Just yes or no, please.
Easy request, right? Just yes or no... simple?
Kayla(14:24:06): You will be needed to order new equipments for new location as per Verizon policy. Yes or no, please.
KRIS LEEDS(14:24:29): Why? So Verizon can make more money?
Kayla(14:24:49): Yes Pay special attention to this word, as it pertains directly to the question I just asked her. you will be ordering service again as like new customer and need to return your existing equipments as per Verizon policy.
Kayla(14:25:15): I do not have that information as I am providing you information as per Verizon policy.
KRIS LEEDS(14:25:38): Even though I've already been a verizon customer? That's not a very courteous way to treat your customers you realize that, right?
Kayla(14:25:48): You will get all the offers and promotions of new customer, If you move your service from one location to another location.
Kayla(14:26:28): You will get the best benefit of getting all the offers and promotions of new customer.
Your session is now closed.
Thank you, have a nice day.
I ended the session because I simply couldn't take it anymore. It was either that, or throw something, and I'm not really partial to throwing shit. That would put me on the level of these feces-flinging knuckle draggers and their band of hooligans. Draw your own conclusions.
Friday, April 27, 2012
FML, or FWP? OMG, WTF!?
FML is an acronym for "fuck my life." Most of you know this. What most of you assholes don't know, is how to use it properly. Here's the thing: If you're in a bind, and you're tight on money because you've over-extended yourself, that's a FWP (first world problem), NOT a FML. "The battery on my phone died, and now I won't be home all weekend" is NOT a FML moment. it's a FWP moment. maybe a WTF (what the fuck) moment. If your charger is fucked up, or the electric went out, you could even, in certain circumstances, use my own adaptation, WTFF (What the fucking fuck). That would be acceptable, but not FML. Your life isn't fucked because you've been slightly inconvenienced, it's just an inconvenience. At that, it's one that an innumerable amount of people worldwide would give their right arm for.
So stop it.
Just.
Fucking.
Stop.
The drama is unnecessary. The acronym is so overused and so full of bullshit that it almost instantly triggers my bitchslap reflex. So, here's a handy guide for all you drama queens:
For contrast, here are a few actual "FML" moments:
So stop it.
Just.
Fucking.
Stop.
The drama is unnecessary. The acronym is so overused and so full of bullshit that it almost instantly triggers my bitchslap reflex. So, here's a handy guide for all you drama queens:
- FWP (First World Problem)
- Your paycheck has been delayed.
- Your mom won't let you go play with your friend because your friend is a troublemaker.
- You have a curfew.
- Your car won't start.
- You don't like Facebook's Timeline format.
For contrast, here are a few actual "FML" moments:
- You're heart transplant has been cancelled.
- The fucking Holocaust.
- Slavery.
- Apartheid.
- Monkeys are flying out your ass at record speeds, and you are out of bananas.
- For FML
- Is this going to seriously hamper your life for the foreseeable future?
- Are you about to die?
- Are you in imminent danger of dying?
- Are you Japanese, and is it August of 1945?
- Are you on a slow boat from Africa to something those white guys keep calling "The New World?"
Friday, March 9, 2012
The Whole Universe Was in a Hot, Dense State.
So here's the thing. I'm really getting fucking fed up with these psycho-christian crackpots trying to blow everything into biblical proportions. I understand that for a great many people, the big bang theory is just to hard to grasp, and it's much safer and more comforting to think that the entirety of the universe is sequestered to this 1.08321×10 12 km 3 rock we call Earth, but that's just tough shit. Ladies and gentleman, there are scientific experiments, and textbooks, and research papers, and journals, and funding, available for a damned good reason. It's provable. Your magical sky ghost is not. While I respect that you have the right to believe whatever you choose, I'm becoming exponentially more livid that many of you Christians seem to think the path to enlightenment is laden with verbal abuse, mockery, and a holier-than-thou sense of entitlement. I've noticed a dearth of respect for MY beliefs, and the beliefs of those who share my world view, like Neil DeGrasse Tyson, Stephen Hawking, Leonard Susskind, Albert Einstein, Alex Fileppenko, Michio Kaku, Brian Greene, et al.
To answer some of the burning questions that none of you seem to bother asking, heat is a catalyst for fusion (the same principle that fuels, and ultimately causes the death of stars like our sun). The big bang generated heat on an unheard of scale. While microbes may not have existed beforehand, fusion dictates that simple elements, when combined and exposed to heat, will create new elements (for reference, see hydrogen fusing to create helium for starters), which combine to create chemicals and chemical compounds such as amino acids, and the other proteins necessary for life. Timing is everything.
Now, stop waving your book of faerie tales at me, and pick up a textbook, journal, or research paper, because if you tell me one more time about how the reason we have rope is because Rapunzel donated her hair after being rescued from the tower, or women are supposed to be skinny because they're made from a meager rib bone in the first place, I'm going to start throwing the scriptures you choose to ignore at you in response to the ones you quote because they're convenient for you. If you're going to be such a die hard bible thumper, read the whole fucking thing!
You hear that whooshing sound? You see that huge, ominous black cloud overhead? That's science dropping. You can't avoid it forever.
SPECIAL NOTE: This isn't directed at ALL Christians, just the ones that will most likely stop reading halfway through the first paragraph.
To answer some of the burning questions that none of you seem to bother asking, heat is a catalyst for fusion (the same principle that fuels, and ultimately causes the death of stars like our sun). The big bang generated heat on an unheard of scale. While microbes may not have existed beforehand, fusion dictates that simple elements, when combined and exposed to heat, will create new elements (for reference, see hydrogen fusing to create helium for starters), which combine to create chemicals and chemical compounds such as amino acids, and the other proteins necessary for life. Timing is everything.
Now, stop waving your book of faerie tales at me, and pick up a textbook, journal, or research paper, because if you tell me one more time about how the reason we have rope is because Rapunzel donated her hair after being rescued from the tower, or women are supposed to be skinny because they're made from a meager rib bone in the first place, I'm going to start throwing the scriptures you choose to ignore at you in response to the ones you quote because they're convenient for you. If you're going to be such a die hard bible thumper, read the whole fucking thing!
You hear that whooshing sound? You see that huge, ominous black cloud overhead? That's science dropping. You can't avoid it forever.
SPECIAL NOTE: This isn't directed at ALL Christians, just the ones that will most likely stop reading halfway through the first paragraph.
Thursday, February 23, 2012
Right Wing Mythbuster.
Isn't it funny how the people that believe this country was founded by people seeking religious freedom are the ones trying to cram Christianity down everyone's throat? Here are a few right-wing myths set beside the actual facts for your perusal:
"Obama is a socialist nigger from Kenya!"He's actually mixed race democrat from Hawaii, by way of Illinois (though why anyone would chose to move from Hawaii to Illinois is beyond me). Although his father was Kenyan, his mother was a stark white women, and natural born citizen of the United States, married to his father prior to his birth. Personally, I think a majority of the idiotic hate that Obama faces can more appropriately be tracked to the fact that his father married, and vigorously fucked a white woman. Something the tiny minds of the religious right just can't accept, but don't want to publicly say they can't accept.
"If them fags are allowed to marry each other because of their choice of lifestyle, why can't I marry a horse?"Because homosexuals don't have a choice in their orientation, they're born with it. Whom you love is not a matter of choice, it's a matter of heart, and no human being should be denied the right to marry another human being (assuming both humans are of equal maturity and intelligence, and of legal age to do so). You can't marry a horse because it wouldn't be a mutual decision, as marriage is, and marriage is an exclusively human rite. In addendum, animals are not granted rights under the Constitution of The United States as citizens. Although what you chose to do with your junk is your own business (and what anyone else chooses to do with their junk is their business, incidentally), your argument here, is asinine, banal, juvenile, ill-founded, and pedantic.
"Poor people are lazy, and just want me to hand them my money!"Most poor people are not lazy. most poor people are poor because they're shouldering more than their fair share of a burden that is the responsibility of the entire working nation. We poor people don't want YOUR money, we just want our own, and we're sick of donating a majority of the pittance we break our backs, bleed, sweat, and raise callouses on our fingers for to your lobbying efforts, political campaigns, bailouts, and tax relief.
"Non-christians are Satanic heathens!"Nope. Muslims, who practice the Islamic religion, worship an analogue of your god that they call Allah, Buddhists worship an analogue of your god (albeit much less self-centered and vengeful) that they call Buddha, and Atheists worship no god. Satanism is, by definition, a religion; one whose practitioners worship Satan.
"My kid should be allowed to pray in school! They're stomping on my religious freedom!"Your kid IS allowed to pray in school. There is nothing barring your child, or any other, from praying while in school, or any other public place. There ARE, however, conventions set forth by our forefathers protecting the rights of EVERYONE. Not just your kid. Prayer IS allowed in public school, it just isn't, and shouldn't be mandatory. You'd be just as pissed off if public schools taught the Qu'ran, or (god forbid) the Torah, because what you actually mean is: "My kid isn't forced to pray in school." Congress shall make no law respecting the establishment of religion, and therefore, religion is not mandated in public schools. You can, however, take the money I'm saving you by paying your share of the taxes that go to those public schools, and put your child in a private, charter, or catholic school, where they have entire classes dedicated to non-standard, ELECTIVE subjects such as religion. Ironically, though, you're forcing your child to participate in a religion that may or may not fit with their beliefs.
Monday, February 13, 2012
ANNOUNCEMENT!
I'm rolling out "audibles" of my rants. Slowly, but surely, for all of you TL;DR assholes. If your eyes are tired, or for whatever reason, you'd like the poison poured in your ear, rather than your eye, look for the link that will be the first line of the rant. If the first line of the rant is a hyperlink, voila! That means it's been narrated by yours truly, and is available to you as a lullaby! The first one is my most recent rant, "So Mad, I Could..." Please feel free to argue, debate, comment, or request a rant for narration. Oh, and yes... They will be out of order. Just deal with it. Ciao!
Thursday, February 9, 2012
Makes Me So Mad, I Could... Oh, Never Mind.
STOP FUCKING SPITTING! What is the matter with you people? At home, fine. If you're having a bad reaction to the diseased cock you just put in your mouth for a double cheeseburger, fine. If you're having an epileptic fit, or a grand mal seizure, fine, but other than a very select, very few reasons, there is absolutely no justifiable cause for spitting in public. It's just fucking nasty. What are you doing, marking your territory with your mouth? Showing your displeasure at the taste of the air? Paying homage to a long antiquated wild west display of disgust? Intentionally insulting someone whom you don't feel is worth words? Go classy, and bite your thumb! There is no reason someone ought to be showered with bits offal from your eighteen dollar soup and sandwich on the way back to the office.
Spitting out something that's disgusting, or gone bad, or caused an unpleasant reaction in your gut at home is one thing. Sometimes, it's necessary. Spitting on the god damned sidewalk where people are trying to walk by is another altogether. There's no justification for it. No one should have to worry about being projectile drooled on while walking down the street. It's disgusting. Don't believe me? Close your eyes, and picture a complete stranger spitting directly into your mouth. Picture their unsolicited glob of saliva and flecks of cheap fast food hamburger smacking into your uvula, and clinging for dear life before dropping offensively down your throat. Not pretty, is it? The same goes for snot rockets. KNOCK IT OFF! There is one place, and one place ONLY where snot rockets are even remotely close to being almost possibly acceptable, and that's in a boxing ring. So, I'll tell you what, if you want to act like you're in a boxing ring in my presence, how about if I do too? You go ahead and hurry past the throngs of innocent bystanders on the sidewalk, and when you close up one nostril to forcibly eject all the wisdom in your head from the other, I'll take my cue and punch the ever loving bejesus out of you for millions of dollars. Does that work?
There are times and places when sharing your bodily fluids is acceptable, even welcome and condoned. The sidewalk of the town I love is not one of those places... at any time. Keep your bodily fluids to yourself; especially if they're speckled with disease. I'm seriously considering carrying a supply of beakers around with me, just to catch the frothy globs so I can hurriedly whip them back into the faces of the knuckle dragging, paint chip eating, yokels who think it's okay to expel their saliva, snot, chaw, and dignity where I'm about to walk. Are there other disgusting habits? Sure. Of course. People have often told me that smoking is a disgusting habit, but you know what? At least I have the courtesy to not share the tendrils of cigarette smoke emitting from my nostrils with people unbidden. As a matter of fact, I've been known to intentionally not smoke when explicitly asked... or in a movie theatre... or in the middle of a restaurant... or on a plane... or in a baby's face... or any other area where it's banned... none of these can be said of spitters, or snot rocketeers, and they have the added horror of being the 21st century's answer to plague bearing rats.
Maybe this is what's wrong with people today. Maybe stupid really is contagious.
Spitting out something that's disgusting, or gone bad, or caused an unpleasant reaction in your gut at home is one thing. Sometimes, it's necessary. Spitting on the god damned sidewalk where people are trying to walk by is another altogether. There's no justification for it. No one should have to worry about being projectile drooled on while walking down the street. It's disgusting. Don't believe me? Close your eyes, and picture a complete stranger spitting directly into your mouth. Picture their unsolicited glob of saliva and flecks of cheap fast food hamburger smacking into your uvula, and clinging for dear life before dropping offensively down your throat. Not pretty, is it? The same goes for snot rockets. KNOCK IT OFF! There is one place, and one place ONLY where snot rockets are even remotely close to being almost possibly acceptable, and that's in a boxing ring. So, I'll tell you what, if you want to act like you're in a boxing ring in my presence, how about if I do too? You go ahead and hurry past the throngs of innocent bystanders on the sidewalk, and when you close up one nostril to forcibly eject all the wisdom in your head from the other, I'll take my cue and punch the ever loving bejesus out of you for millions of dollars. Does that work?
"But I have a cold."I don't give a bleeding blue shit if you have walking pneumonia. If you have a cold, and you're aware that you have a cold, 1) it's all the more reason you shouldn't be arming and firing snot rockets into public. You've now just admitted you're engaging in germ warfare. Asshole. B) CARRY A FUCKING PACK OF TISSUES! They make them in travel size for a reason. So people like you don't go around infecting people like us, who don't want to be sick! It's bad enough to have to hear the arduous calling up of phlegm from your chest and sinuses as you prepare what you hope to be the world's greatest ball of mucous. It's disgusting, and frankly, arrogant to assume that I'm going to get any kind of joy from dodging it!
There are times and places when sharing your bodily fluids is acceptable, even welcome and condoned. The sidewalk of the town I love is not one of those places... at any time. Keep your bodily fluids to yourself; especially if they're speckled with disease. I'm seriously considering carrying a supply of beakers around with me, just to catch the frothy globs so I can hurriedly whip them back into the faces of the knuckle dragging, paint chip eating, yokels who think it's okay to expel their saliva, snot, chaw, and dignity where I'm about to walk. Are there other disgusting habits? Sure. Of course. People have often told me that smoking is a disgusting habit, but you know what? At least I have the courtesy to not share the tendrils of cigarette smoke emitting from my nostrils with people unbidden. As a matter of fact, I've been known to intentionally not smoke when explicitly asked... or in a movie theatre... or in the middle of a restaurant... or on a plane... or in a baby's face... or any other area where it's banned... none of these can be said of spitters, or snot rocketeers, and they have the added horror of being the 21st century's answer to plague bearing rats.
Maybe this is what's wrong with people today. Maybe stupid really is contagious.
Tuesday, February 7, 2012
Don't End With A Propositional Phase.
Can we please focus on shit that matters now? Seriously, the big game against central is over, enough already. I know I've already tackled football, but this banal, boorish blemish on American society as a whole needs a time-out. Can we, as a nation - as adults - huddle up and discuss more pressing issues? Like maybe the recent sacking of Prop H8? That strikes me as a pretty big fucking deal.
Now, I know homophobes everywhere are mad about the robust grudge fuck Prop 8 took, but that's just tough shit. The fact is, even if you drain all the humanity out of it, and look at it exclusively from the most capitalistic point of view, it makes good, sound business sense. Put the humanity back into it, and voila! Now, you're looking at something that is a win for the LGBT community, or as I like to call them, my fellow human beings who happen to have different tastes (in some, but certainly not all) cases. You know, homo sapiens? I know a lot of people need that link, because they don't want to believe we've evolved from a species with it's origin in Africa. They're deathly afraid of being related to... BLACK PEOPLE! (Did they scatter)? Never mind that; it's for another rant for another day.
Here's the thing: there shouldn't be a rift between the general populace on the legalization of something that ought never to have been illegal in the first place! Perhaps I'm daft. Maybe I just don't get it, but I simply can't wrap my head around the abysmal hypocrisy of a select privileged handful of lechers and adulterers, trying once again to legislate morality. Especially when it comes to bemoaning the sanctity of marriage. I may be a complete asshole, and I may be slightly misanthropic, but damn it, love is love. Period! It's not something one can explain, legislate, or break into square, linear, black and white definitions. Why, then, is this even an issue?
At risk of sounding arrogant and obtuse, I think there is at least a handful of more important things we ought to be worrying about right now, rather than whom one can or can not marry, like... I don't know... figuring out who's least likely to fuck over the ever increasing throng of impoverished families in the U.S. over the next four years? Just a thought. Maybe it's be a good idea to pay attention to that, so we're not pissing and moaning about how poorly that person is doing their job before they've even got halfway through their term? Furthermore, WHAT BLOODY SENSE DOES IT MAKE FOR IT TO BE PERFECTLY LEGAL TO MARRY BLOOD RELATIVES, AS LONG AS THEY ARE OF THE OPPOSITE SEX!? Sorry for the Brian Blessed moment, but it truly flummoxes me that in 25 states, you can marry your first cousin, as long as you don't both have the same type of junk. It seems to me, a great number of these chimps flinging their feces at the LGBT community have hailed from these states. Is there a connection?
Who knows, we can't subject them to the kinds of tests I'd like to, because of that whole "ethics" thing. I'll tell you this, though, I for one welcome the legalization of same sex marriage (also called "marriage"). If you've got the heart, and the sincerity, and the loyalty, and the constitution to dedicate the rest of your days to a mutual reciprocation of love and trust, then as far as I'm concerned, you've earned the right to be proud of it, and walk through life as a legitimately married couple, reaping all the benefits of any other.The fact that there are married couples that haven't earned and continue not earning the privileges that they take for granted are allowed to stand up and falsely claim undying love to each other while couples that are truly in love are barred from having that same rite (see what I did there?) is truly criminal.
Now, I know homophobes everywhere are mad about the robust grudge fuck Prop 8 took, but that's just tough shit. The fact is, even if you drain all the humanity out of it, and look at it exclusively from the most capitalistic point of view, it makes good, sound business sense. Put the humanity back into it, and voila! Now, you're looking at something that is a win for the LGBT community, or as I like to call them, my fellow human beings who happen to have different tastes (in some, but certainly not all) cases. You know, homo sapiens? I know a lot of people need that link, because they don't want to believe we've evolved from a species with it's origin in Africa. They're deathly afraid of being related to... BLACK PEOPLE! (Did they scatter)? Never mind that; it's for another rant for another day.
Here's the thing: there shouldn't be a rift between the general populace on the legalization of something that ought never to have been illegal in the first place! Perhaps I'm daft. Maybe I just don't get it, but I simply can't wrap my head around the abysmal hypocrisy of a select privileged handful of lechers and adulterers, trying once again to legislate morality. Especially when it comes to bemoaning the sanctity of marriage. I may be a complete asshole, and I may be slightly misanthropic, but damn it, love is love. Period! It's not something one can explain, legislate, or break into square, linear, black and white definitions. Why, then, is this even an issue?
"You want to marry a man? Fine. WAIT A MINUTE! YOU ARE A MAN!? Well, that's no good. Nope. Can't do it."Huh?
At risk of sounding arrogant and obtuse, I think there is at least a handful of more important things we ought to be worrying about right now, rather than whom one can or can not marry, like... I don't know... figuring out who's least likely to fuck over the ever increasing throng of impoverished families in the U.S. over the next four years? Just a thought. Maybe it's be a good idea to pay attention to that, so we're not pissing and moaning about how poorly that person is doing their job before they've even got halfway through their term? Furthermore, WHAT BLOODY SENSE DOES IT MAKE FOR IT TO BE PERFECTLY LEGAL TO MARRY BLOOD RELATIVES, AS LONG AS THEY ARE OF THE OPPOSITE SEX!? Sorry for the Brian Blessed moment, but it truly flummoxes me that in 25 states, you can marry your first cousin, as long as you don't both have the same type of junk. It seems to me, a great number of these chimps flinging their feces at the LGBT community have hailed from these states. Is there a connection?
Who knows, we can't subject them to the kinds of tests I'd like to, because of that whole "ethics" thing. I'll tell you this, though, I for one welcome the legalization of same sex marriage (also called "marriage"). If you've got the heart, and the sincerity, and the loyalty, and the constitution to dedicate the rest of your days to a mutual reciprocation of love and trust, then as far as I'm concerned, you've earned the right to be proud of it, and walk through life as a legitimately married couple, reaping all the benefits of any other.The fact that there are married couples that haven't earned and continue not earning the privileges that they take for granted are allowed to stand up and falsely claim undying love to each other while couples that are truly in love are barred from having that same rite (see what I did there?) is truly criminal.
Thursday, February 2, 2012
Hypocrisy Abounds
GOD DAMN IT! When are people going to fucking realize that "pro-choice" does NOT mean "I want to kill your children!?" It means pro fucking choice. Choice. Remember that word? Choice? Here, I'll break it down for you:
Assholes.
I'm so fucking exhausted with having to explain this shit, I really am. My belief that a person has a RIGHT to choose does not have any affect whatsoever on your CHOICE. That's for you to decide. Personally, I find it offensive that people find my support of their right to have options presented to them, rather than be compelled one way or another, offensive. What the fervent, flying fuck do you not understand?
Now... let me take a breath and try to handle this with ever so slightly more decorum:
No, I am not a woman, but I do support the idea that you ought to have the right to decide what to do with your body. ESPECIALLY if you weren't given the option to intentionally place it into a state of gestation.
No, I have never given birth, but I do believe that as a citizen of the United States of America, you are granted certain unalienable rights. Among them life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. If bearing children impedes your right to life, you should have the option to make a decision about that. If it strips your right to liberty (I.E. You weren't consulted on the idea of becoming pregnant), you should be allowed options. If it halts you in your pursuit of happiness (for instance, the child will most likely be stillborn, or is the product of rape, or is likely to kill you in the process of becoming full term), you ought to be granted alternatives. Notice how in NONE of those arguments did I say "You ought to scrape it out." Again, I'm not insisting that you believe as I do, I'm staunchly defending your right to believe what you wish!
No, I've never been pregnant, but I'm not forcing my beliefs onto you and insisting that you do it my way because if you don't the invisible man in the sky will get you.
Here's the thing: it seems to me that a vast majority of pro-lifers (the ones killing all the abortion doctors) are ultra-conservative, right wing, republican, super-rich psycho-Christians. That's fine. I wholeheartedly support their right to choose that option. While I don't agree with it, one of the fundamental things that I believe in my core is that in this country, we all have the right to follow our own pathos and ideologies. (Yes, I used the word "pathos" intentionally).
What I'm having trouble understanding is this: These are the same people that want to shirk their civic duties and responsibilities to the progress of the nation as a whole. They want their money to be their money, and no one else's. They don't want to pay taxes, they don't want government, and they don't want you to disagree with them. These are the anti-welfare, anti-unemployment, anti-healthcare reform, anti-poor-people people. If people don't have the option, the CHOICE, or the education necessary to make the right decisions for their lives, or correct mistakes made by themselves, or mistakes made by other people but forced onto them, they will encumber society. Don't you get it? YOU'RE SHOOTING YOURSELF IN THE WALLET!
Planned Parenthood isn't about "killing babies." For starters, in cases of abortion, the cells removed are not yet proven to be viable. More importantly, however, (as the title of the establishment would suggest) it's about "planned" parenthood. It's about education, so that young people can make better decisions. So, stop railing against them because you seem to think all they do is scrape out unwanted babies.
As far as all you people who insist that any collection of cells that is capable of holding and maintaining life should be protected, don't be so fucking sanctimonious. A tumor is a collection of living cells. A parasite is a collection of living cells. That lemongrass smoothie you got from Hoity-Toity's House of Douchebaggery before going to the office to rape consumers out of their hard earned cash was a collection of living cells. Yogurt? Living cells. Cheese? Living cells. Salad? Living fucking cells.
Oh, and before you chime in with the standard-issue question that's supposed to make me change my mind, ("What if your mom chose to abort you?") she wouldn't have. I was conceived (albeit, to the chagrin of many) on purpose. That is a bullshit argument built on a horse shit foundation, because guess what? When I was born, my mother did, in fact, have a choice. She chose to afflict the world with me anyway.
choiceAs you can see (assuming you are capable of synthesizing this information) CHOICE, as opposed to COMPULSION, is more in line with what the forefathers of our country had in mind in most things. It's what this nation was fucking founded on! By being pro CHOICE, I am not compelling YOU to do one thing or another, I'm standing up for YOUR RIGHT TO CHOOSE!
Noun: An act of selecting or making a decision when faced with two or more possibilities.
noun. selection - option - pick - election - assortment
Assholes.
I'm so fucking exhausted with having to explain this shit, I really am. My belief that a person has a RIGHT to choose does not have any affect whatsoever on your CHOICE. That's for you to decide. Personally, I find it offensive that people find my support of their right to have options presented to them, rather than be compelled one way or another, offensive. What the fervent, flying fuck do you not understand?
Now... let me take a breath and try to handle this with ever so slightly more decorum:
No, I am not a woman, but I do support the idea that you ought to have the right to decide what to do with your body. ESPECIALLY if you weren't given the option to intentionally place it into a state of gestation.
No, I have never given birth, but I do believe that as a citizen of the United States of America, you are granted certain unalienable rights. Among them life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. If bearing children impedes your right to life, you should have the option to make a decision about that. If it strips your right to liberty (I.E. You weren't consulted on the idea of becoming pregnant), you should be allowed options. If it halts you in your pursuit of happiness (for instance, the child will most likely be stillborn, or is the product of rape, or is likely to kill you in the process of becoming full term), you ought to be granted alternatives. Notice how in NONE of those arguments did I say "You ought to scrape it out." Again, I'm not insisting that you believe as I do, I'm staunchly defending your right to believe what you wish!
No, I've never been pregnant, but I'm not forcing my beliefs onto you and insisting that you do it my way because if you don't the invisible man in the sky will get you.
Here's the thing: it seems to me that a vast majority of pro-lifers (the ones killing all the abortion doctors) are ultra-conservative, right wing, republican, super-rich psycho-Christians. That's fine. I wholeheartedly support their right to choose that option. While I don't agree with it, one of the fundamental things that I believe in my core is that in this country, we all have the right to follow our own pathos and ideologies. (Yes, I used the word "pathos" intentionally).
What I'm having trouble understanding is this: These are the same people that want to shirk their civic duties and responsibilities to the progress of the nation as a whole. They want their money to be their money, and no one else's. They don't want to pay taxes, they don't want government, and they don't want you to disagree with them. These are the anti-welfare, anti-unemployment, anti-healthcare reform, anti-poor-people people. If people don't have the option, the CHOICE, or the education necessary to make the right decisions for their lives, or correct mistakes made by themselves, or mistakes made by other people but forced onto them, they will encumber society. Don't you get it? YOU'RE SHOOTING YOURSELF IN THE WALLET!
Planned Parenthood isn't about "killing babies." For starters, in cases of abortion, the cells removed are not yet proven to be viable. More importantly, however, (as the title of the establishment would suggest) it's about "planned" parenthood. It's about education, so that young people can make better decisions. So, stop railing against them because you seem to think all they do is scrape out unwanted babies.
As far as all you people who insist that any collection of cells that is capable of holding and maintaining life should be protected, don't be so fucking sanctimonious. A tumor is a collection of living cells. A parasite is a collection of living cells. That lemongrass smoothie you got from Hoity-Toity's House of Douchebaggery before going to the office to rape consumers out of their hard earned cash was a collection of living cells. Yogurt? Living cells. Cheese? Living cells. Salad? Living fucking cells.
Oh, and before you chime in with the standard-issue question that's supposed to make me change my mind, ("What if your mom chose to abort you?") she wouldn't have. I was conceived (albeit, to the chagrin of many) on purpose. That is a bullshit argument built on a horse shit foundation, because guess what? When I was born, my mother did, in fact, have a choice. She chose to afflict the world with me anyway.
Tuesday, January 24, 2012
Es Lebe Das Word Reich!
Okay, so my ears are hot. No, really, like red hot. If you cracked an egg and let it ooze into my ear, you would get a nice, waxy omelette. I may have mentioned, or you may have gleaned that I'm a writer (imagine that!) As such, I have been blessed be-knighted with an awesome job doing what I love to do... writing.
"What a fortuitous turn of events!" you might say; and you'd be right.
"What an unholy pain in the ass!" you might say; and you'd also be right.
Every professional scribe has to do one thing that is the bane of professional scribes:
submit their work for approval.
Hey! Where are you going!? I know it's scary, but come back here! I didn't say you had to submit your work for approval! Relax, I know how frightening that phrase can be.
So I do this. This whole "submission" thing (and I might add that it's an apt word for the action), and for the first time ever, a fistful of assignments comes back. I was floored. I know, I know, "first world problems" but hear me out. I wasn't floored because the assignments came back, I (as any wordsmith should) accept this as an occasional inevitability. I found myself prostrate and cooling my countenance on the oak slats in my living room because the "edits" and "changes" and "suggestions" were what I can only describe as rife with typographical, grammatical, and mechanical errors. There was a sea of what in earlier days would have been red ink. A cruel, wild, untamed sea full of retarded dolphins and three-legged sharks. It was awful. I fell apart like a leper with epilepsy.
After a fair bit of stomping, swearing, and pulling my hair out, not to mention ashot of Jack Daniels walk around the block, I calmed down, and began examining the "changes" that the other "writer" recommended. Through tears, and bloodshot eyes, I accepted them, or at least their spirit. I know edits and changes will, on occasion, be necessary. It just comes with the territory. What I will not abide, is someone submitting changes that require me to put my name on a piece that appears to have been written by a four year old, or worse, that new cancer-causing agent, Newt Gingrich (I know he's irrelevant, but I can't pass up a cheap shot at someone who so concretely epitomizes failure and hypocrisy).
The moral, if there is one, is this:
There will be times when you have to bend and compromise what you do, especially if you're doing it for approval by a third party, but never, ever compromise who you are. There's always something in between, and part of who I am is a card carrying member of the Word Reich.
"What a fortuitous turn of events!" you might say; and you'd be right.
"What an unholy pain in the ass!" you might say; and you'd also be right.
Every professional scribe has to do one thing that is the bane of professional scribes:
submit their work for approval.
Hey! Where are you going!? I know it's scary, but come back here! I didn't say you had to submit your work for approval! Relax, I know how frightening that phrase can be.
So I do this. This whole "submission" thing (and I might add that it's an apt word for the action), and for the first time ever, a fistful of assignments comes back. I was floored. I know, I know, "first world problems" but hear me out. I wasn't floored because the assignments came back, I (as any wordsmith should) accept this as an occasional inevitability. I found myself prostrate and cooling my countenance on the oak slats in my living room because the "edits" and "changes" and "suggestions" were what I can only describe as rife with typographical, grammatical, and mechanical errors. There was a sea of what in earlier days would have been red ink. A cruel, wild, untamed sea full of retarded dolphins and three-legged sharks. It was awful. I fell apart like a leper with epilepsy.
After a fair bit of stomping, swearing, and pulling my hair out, not to mention a
The moral, if there is one, is this:
There will be times when you have to bend and compromise what you do, especially if you're doing it for approval by a third party, but never, ever compromise who you are. There's always something in between, and part of who I am is a card carrying member of the Word Reich.
Monday, January 23, 2012
Touchdown Syndrome
So here's the thing. I'm at the corner store earlier, trying to procure a Monster (not the little penny ante can, either, the big fucker) and something to munch on to help me trudge through an already exhausting day, and these giant fat fucks, (that's right, I said fat, go ahead and try to bust me for a hate crime, you litigious self righteous assholes!) in a display that is at the apex of knuckle-dragging douchebaggery, decided to clog the one and only aisle to the register so they could discuss... you guessed it... FOOTBALL!
Really?
Is that really fucking necessary!? Okay, I get it, this is America, and in America, we don't go out and play demanding sports, or engage in strenuous activity, we pay people gazillions of dollars so they can do it for us while we sit at home stuffing our faces with nachos, small pieces of mechanically separated chicken that come in ever growing buckets, beer, and on occasion, our own fingers (since we're not paying attention to anything aside from the big apes wearing the pretty colors on T.V.), but what, pray tell, is the logic behind parking your otherwise sedentary ass in my way to discuss and debate how aptly the team you prefer performed against the other team? It was like a damned poorly written skit; two sweaty, gihugic fuckers in sweatpants and hoodies adorned with their precious teams' logos like they're being sponsored in a knock down, drag-out, gasp-for-air-fest.
If these guys were waiting for something from the deli, I could understand, but they weren't.
If they were waiting for their counterparts to check out, I could understand, but they weren't.
If they'd had the civility to move when I asked politely if I could get by, I could understand, but they didn't.
If they had let me go on about my business without trying to engage me in their nonsensical debate, I could understand, but they didn't.
So what did they do to incur my ire?
They mocked me.
At first, it was a simple inquiry as to which team I preferred. I informed the gorillas that I don't follow football, and that was met with disbelief and a healthy dose of scoffing. I shrugged. I just wanted to get back to what I was doing. Then the smaller one, let's call him Jabba junior, turned to face me, thus COMPLETELY blocking the aisle with his overflowing girth (yes, the same aisle, if you remember, that I was trying to pass through to get to the register) to ask me if I lived under a rock.
"I can assure you that I don't live under a rock. I simply don't enjoy watching a bunch of jocks run around after an oblong ball, and getting paid millions of dollars to play a game. Frankly, it pisses me off. If you could do me the kindness of moving, I'd like to get back to work now."
He asked what I do. I told him. I write.
I was not aware that writing is such a mirth inspiring occupation. Granted, I do on occasion attempt to entertain, but not by the simple fact of announcing my livelihood. I was not aware that so many jokes could be made about writers. I was not aware that as a writer, I was beneath them. I was not aware that collecting disability was a far nobler vocation (and yes, I asked them, and that's what they both do). I was not aware that I needed to apologize for insulting football players by claiming that they make too much money to simply play a game.
Why, if someone can tell me, is it still okay for GROWN FUCKING ADULTS to act like high-schoolers? I wasn't entirely sure I was going to get out of there without having to defend myself from a swirly. This is what is wrong with people these days. Forty-somethings can be bothered to congregate in the single thoroughfare of a convenience store and get red eared and bluster about whichever professional game player they favor, yet disturbing them while idle for any cause of actual importance is of no use.
WHY?!
Perhaps I am socially retarded. I just can't wrap my brain around the fact that people will sequester themselves indoors to basically watch grown kids get paid a fuckload of money to play in an oversized sandbox, then venture out of doors to annoy people who have lives with their ceaseless prattling, yet if you ask them for any sort of action, be it taking action to try to better society, or something as simple as floating the fuck out of my way, such a request is met with scorn and mockery.
So, I'm sorry, fellas, for making you stretch the elastic on those sweat pants just a hair more. Didn't mean to make you sweat as you plodded over three feet so I could get by.
I will not, however, apologize for not sharing your views.
I will not apologize for not enjoying your sport.
I will not apologize for having something to do other than sit in a lazy boy and yell at my T.V. while my defeated wife keeps her mouth shut and brings me more sammiches.
I will not apologize for my opinion, and I will never ask anyone else to do it either.
You want to know why jocks get such a bad rap? It's because of paint chip eating neanderthals like these.
Really?
Is that really fucking necessary!? Okay, I get it, this is America, and in America, we don't go out and play demanding sports, or engage in strenuous activity, we pay people gazillions of dollars so they can do it for us while we sit at home stuffing our faces with nachos, small pieces of mechanically separated chicken that come in ever growing buckets, beer, and on occasion, our own fingers (since we're not paying attention to anything aside from the big apes wearing the pretty colors on T.V.), but what, pray tell, is the logic behind parking your otherwise sedentary ass in my way to discuss and debate how aptly the team you prefer performed against the other team? It was like a damned poorly written skit; two sweaty, gihugic fuckers in sweatpants and hoodies adorned with their precious teams' logos like they're being sponsored in a knock down, drag-out, gasp-for-air-fest.
If these guys were waiting for something from the deli, I could understand, but they weren't.
If they were waiting for their counterparts to check out, I could understand, but they weren't.
If they'd had the civility to move when I asked politely if I could get by, I could understand, but they didn't.
If they had let me go on about my business without trying to engage me in their nonsensical debate, I could understand, but they didn't.
So what did they do to incur my ire?
They mocked me.
At first, it was a simple inquiry as to which team I preferred. I informed the gorillas that I don't follow football, and that was met with disbelief and a healthy dose of scoffing. I shrugged. I just wanted to get back to what I was doing. Then the smaller one, let's call him Jabba junior, turned to face me, thus COMPLETELY blocking the aisle with his overflowing girth (yes, the same aisle, if you remember, that I was trying to pass through to get to the register) to ask me if I lived under a rock.
"I can assure you that I don't live under a rock. I simply don't enjoy watching a bunch of jocks run around after an oblong ball, and getting paid millions of dollars to play a game. Frankly, it pisses me off. If you could do me the kindness of moving, I'd like to get back to work now."
He asked what I do. I told him. I write.
I was not aware that writing is such a mirth inspiring occupation. Granted, I do on occasion attempt to entertain, but not by the simple fact of announcing my livelihood. I was not aware that so many jokes could be made about writers. I was not aware that as a writer, I was beneath them. I was not aware that collecting disability was a far nobler vocation (and yes, I asked them, and that's what they both do). I was not aware that I needed to apologize for insulting football players by claiming that they make too much money to simply play a game.
Why, if someone can tell me, is it still okay for GROWN FUCKING ADULTS to act like high-schoolers? I wasn't entirely sure I was going to get out of there without having to defend myself from a swirly. This is what is wrong with people these days. Forty-somethings can be bothered to congregate in the single thoroughfare of a convenience store and get red eared and bluster about whichever professional game player they favor, yet disturbing them while idle for any cause of actual importance is of no use.
WHY?!
Perhaps I am socially retarded. I just can't wrap my brain around the fact that people will sequester themselves indoors to basically watch grown kids get paid a fuckload of money to play in an oversized sandbox, then venture out of doors to annoy people who have lives with their ceaseless prattling, yet if you ask them for any sort of action, be it taking action to try to better society, or something as simple as floating the fuck out of my way, such a request is met with scorn and mockery.
So, I'm sorry, fellas, for making you stretch the elastic on those sweat pants just a hair more. Didn't mean to make you sweat as you plodded over three feet so I could get by.
I will not, however, apologize for not sharing your views.
I will not apologize for not enjoying your sport.
I will not apologize for having something to do other than sit in a lazy boy and yell at my T.V. while my defeated wife keeps her mouth shut and brings me more sammiches.
I will not apologize for my opinion, and I will never ask anyone else to do it either.
You want to know why jocks get such a bad rap? It's because of paint chip eating neanderthals like these.
Wednesday, January 18, 2012
Monday, January 16, 2012
Caveat Emptor
No, seriously... what the fuck? How do people honestly still back right wing escaped lunatics like Mitt Romney, Newt Getrich, and yes, dare I say it, Ron Paul? I don't get it. Is it because the job market sucks? Do you really think these bajillionaires are going to help you? Have you seen their track records? None of these people would spare a kind word to Red Skelton, let alone offer any substantial support to a REAL poor person. You know what they'll do? They might offer to pray for you, or suggest that you pray yourself. The job market sucks EVERYWHERE! It's been sucking LONG before the current president, and it will continue to suck for a while. Am I saying you can't be critical? No. Not at all. You have the right to do so, no... you have an obligation to do so according to the U.S. Constitution (still one of my favorite pieces of literature). Am I saying you're better off fucking yourself with a concrete dildo wrapped in barbed wire and capsaicin than putting another republican in the office?
Um... yes.
Did you see what happened with the last one? You think maybe it's a good idea to recover a little, and maybe get this country on its feet before we test its strength with incompetent assholes again? I'd recommend it.
Look, here's the thing. No candidate regardless of the current political faction to which s/he claims allegiance is going to please the entirety of the voting age population, but there are some out there that are simply not a good fit if we, as Americans wish to progress and quell the hatred that far too many other countries (you do remember that there ARE other countries, right?) feel in the pit of their stomachs for us.We have an astronomical portion of our population in ill-health with little to no hope of recovery just on the basis of their income. They're too poor to be healthy. Do you understand how glaringly cro-magnon that is?! They don't have enough MONEY to get proper medical treatment! Meanwhile, the whole of Europe, and even that homogeneous, barely consequential little town called CANADA cock their collective heads to the side like a dog that thinks it hears a high pitched whine as if to say, "what the fuck?"
Let's not go trying to throw out a guy who's trying to clean up the last guy's mess. That's not how you fix things. And let's not go screaming for his head, and whining because our incessant need for instant gratification demands we do so. There's a nifty little saying:
"Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me.
I lift my lamp beside the golden door."
Ironically, it comes from the oft-made-fun-of French. Are you going to tell me that those swarthy, suave, cretins know more about social responsibility than we do?!
Oh wait... it seems they do.
All I'm saying folks is this: Put the fucking torches and pitchforks down, okay?
I've been accused (if you can believe it) of having too much patience. One of my all time favorite people in the world continually calls me a Zen master (and frequently gets angry at me for not getting angry about petty things). You don't have to be a Zen master, or "have the patience of Job" to see that we're in a better situation in general now than we were four, eight, or even twelve years ago (Jesus Hernandez Cristobal, has it been that long already?!). Make your decision wisely. Do not put someone in office who will continue to whittle away your rights because it affects their bottom line too much.
Wednesday, January 11, 2012
Those Genes Look Terrible on You.
Let the hate mail begin. I'm truly getting very fucking sick and tired of people getting offended by other people cracking wise about their weight. Yeah, I said it. Look, I'm not talking about thick, chunky, husky, rotund, robust, rubinesque, jolly, big-boned, fluffy, hefty, stout, or sturdy people. I'm talking about the angry, misanthropic, rude, half-ton behemoth sloths that like to throw their weight around simply because they have so much of it. Thanks a lot, Cameron Manheim. Look, I can say, "please don't misunderstand me" till I'm blue in the face, but I know it will be to no avail. The fact is, though it hasn't always been, that America is the most obese nation in the world.
In.
The.
World.
I'm seeing and hearing ads on T.V. and the radio (yes, I still listen to the radio, remember that magical box from whence emanated melodies and the humorous jibes of AV nerds?) With some
<ironic quotation mark>witty</ironic quotation mark>
narrator pretending to be "soda and juice drinks" (complete with requisite melodramatic inflection) deceiving the poor, unknowing children and parents of this country into buying their sugar-riddled products instead of healthy drinks. Are you fucking kidding me?! Seriously!? If you are unaware that soda and some juice drinks contain an unholy helping of sugar, you have other, far more pressing problems... like missing chromosomes... and you shouldn't be breeding in the first place.
The fact that your children are blowing up like genetically altered KFC chickens can NOT be blamed on them, their lack of informed decision (let's remember, they ARE children, and it isn't their responsibility, yet, to make those decisions), or [swelling orchestral dirge] the evil carbonated beverage industry. It's because YOU, the PARENTS of those children, are making the WRONG decisions FOR them! With the exception of ALMOST 1% of the population (being affected by actual disorders that cause drastic weight gain, as opposed to self-inflicted ones), your children look like this because YOU look like this! You're FEEDING them the damned genetically altered KFC chickens, assholes!
Again, this doesn't pertain to the slightly enlarged. It's the massive, grotesque five-hundred pound people with the equally large attitude crying, pissing and moaning about their weight, and pointing their engorged sausage fingers at everyone else that piss me off. Take some fucking accountability! You can't blame genetics in an overwhelming majority of cases. What you can blame, however, is your desire to lead a sedentary lifestyle and blame doctors, your parents, the FDA, the government, the restaurant industry, television, Rachel Ray, Coca-Cola, Frito-lay, and the makers of the couch you can't eject yourself from (because it's too comfortable to get out of. It must be their fault!)
This does not come from some scrawny, world-saving, hipster vegetarian, either (they're another faction of myopic asshats in my cross-hairs). I'm stocky myself. Always have been, probably always will be. But you know what? I was stockier. No, fuck that, I'll own it. I was fat. I was a big fat fatty. I didn't blame anyone else, I didn't gripe, and cry, and whine, and blame others. I didn't get angry and offended, and defensive when people I hadn't seen in years said, "Jesus Christ, you got fat!" (and many did), and I didn't get up on a soapbox and tout the benefits of being hefty, either. I realized I had to get in shape, for my own benefit. For my own health. And I did it. It truly is, in most cases, a matter of willpower.
I may lose readership over this, but it has to be said. The whole idea of "big is beautiful" is an excuse. It's used as a phrase of absolution for the lazy. It does not absolve you from taking care of yourself. Gone are the days when corpulence was a sign of wealth, power, and good breeding stock. That being said, big can be beautiful... in proportion. There are absolutely drop dead gorgeous big girls out there, but big is not, and shouldn't be, synonymous with fat. There's a difference. A rather large one (pun completely intended). Diabetes, heart disease, gout, high blood pressure, a shortened life expectancy, and gynecomastia are not beautiful. That being said, lose the fatittude.
*The preceding rant is in no way intended to express the views of any individual or agency aside from me. If you happen to be large and jolly, suffer no health risks because of your size, or are simply "heavy," then please, please continue to be you. If, however, you are a member of the "fat and proud" faction that insists on yelling and screaming at the top of your lungs, and believe that when it rains and you get wet it's because god is making fun of your weight, I do suggest downloading and re-reading this article until it finally sinks the fuck in.
~So sayeth the Mofo.
In.
The.
World.
I'm seeing and hearing ads on T.V. and the radio (yes, I still listen to the radio, remember that magical box from whence emanated melodies and the humorous jibes of AV nerds?) With some
<ironic quotation mark>witty</ironic quotation mark>
narrator pretending to be "soda and juice drinks" (complete with requisite melodramatic inflection) deceiving the poor, unknowing children and parents of this country into buying their sugar-riddled products instead of healthy drinks. Are you fucking kidding me?! Seriously!? If you are unaware that soda and some juice drinks contain an unholy helping of sugar, you have other, far more pressing problems... like missing chromosomes... and you shouldn't be breeding in the first place.
The fact that your children are blowing up like genetically altered KFC chickens can NOT be blamed on them, their lack of informed decision (let's remember, they ARE children, and it isn't their responsibility, yet, to make those decisions), or [swelling orchestral dirge] the evil carbonated beverage industry. It's because YOU, the PARENTS of those children, are making the WRONG decisions FOR them! With the exception of ALMOST 1% of the population (being affected by actual disorders that cause drastic weight gain, as opposed to self-inflicted ones), your children look like this because YOU look like this! You're FEEDING them the damned genetically altered KFC chickens, assholes!
Again, this doesn't pertain to the slightly enlarged. It's the massive, grotesque five-hundred pound people with the equally large attitude crying, pissing and moaning about their weight, and pointing their engorged sausage fingers at everyone else that piss me off. Take some fucking accountability! You can't blame genetics in an overwhelming majority of cases. What you can blame, however, is your desire to lead a sedentary lifestyle and blame doctors, your parents, the FDA, the government, the restaurant industry, television, Rachel Ray, Coca-Cola, Frito-lay, and the makers of the couch you can't eject yourself from (because it's too comfortable to get out of. It must be their fault!)
This does not come from some scrawny, world-saving, hipster vegetarian, either (they're another faction of myopic asshats in my cross-hairs). I'm stocky myself. Always have been, probably always will be. But you know what? I was stockier. No, fuck that, I'll own it. I was fat. I was a big fat fatty. I didn't blame anyone else, I didn't gripe, and cry, and whine, and blame others. I didn't get angry and offended, and defensive when people I hadn't seen in years said, "Jesus Christ, you got fat!" (and many did), and I didn't get up on a soapbox and tout the benefits of being hefty, either. I realized I had to get in shape, for my own benefit. For my own health. And I did it. It truly is, in most cases, a matter of willpower.
I may lose readership over this, but it has to be said. The whole idea of "big is beautiful" is an excuse. It's used as a phrase of absolution for the lazy. It does not absolve you from taking care of yourself. Gone are the days when corpulence was a sign of wealth, power, and good breeding stock. That being said, big can be beautiful... in proportion. There are absolutely drop dead gorgeous big girls out there, but big is not, and shouldn't be, synonymous with fat. There's a difference. A rather large one (pun completely intended). Diabetes, heart disease, gout, high blood pressure, a shortened life expectancy, and gynecomastia are not beautiful. That being said, lose the fatittude.
*The preceding rant is in no way intended to express the views of any individual or agency aside from me. If you happen to be large and jolly, suffer no health risks because of your size, or are simply "heavy," then please, please continue to be you. If, however, you are a member of the "fat and proud" faction that insists on yelling and screaming at the top of your lungs, and believe that when it rains and you get wet it's because god is making fun of your weight, I do suggest downloading and re-reading this article until it finally sinks the fuck in.
~So sayeth the Mofo.
Tuesday, January 3, 2012
The Armageddon That Cried Wolf.
The world is not ending this year. Knock it the fuck off! I know, I know, "the Mayan calendar ends this year." Does it? Does it, really? Because I don't know about you, but I have NEVER EVER been able to find the either the point of origin OR the point of termination for a circle. Do you have some sort of mythical insight into mathematics that we're all unaware of? Isn't it just possible that the significance of the completion of a full rotation could simply be the end of an era? The Mayans were an incredibly advanced civilization, with a lot more insight ( I think) than we give them credit for. Is it at all possible that they looked at their calendar, and said, "You know what? We've got 7, 886 years logged here, when more need to be added, let our great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-grandchildren add them."
That's right, 7,886 years. See, the maximum date that can be achieved on the calendar ISN'T Dec, 21, 2012, it's October 12, 4772. Dec, 20, 2012 is the end of the twelfth "Baktun," of which there are twenty. It happens every 400 years, so chill the fuck out. If there are any major catastrophic events going on this year, they are going to be the result(s) of human stupidity, and hysteria induced by conspiracy theorists and false prophets... or the GOP. Tomato, tomahto.
Here's a crazy idea: Concentrate on making the world better. There's going to be a lot of chaos in the year to come. Not because the world is going to end, but because too many people Think it will. There's the danger. There are too many people afraid of too many things, and this will be a problem.
All I ask is this: When you think the world's going to end, and you think the apocalypse is upon us because the date is approaching, remember the rapture Back in October, and the one in May, and the one back in 1994 that never came either.
That's right, 7,886 years. See, the maximum date that can be achieved on the calendar ISN'T Dec, 21, 2012, it's October 12, 4772. Dec, 20, 2012 is the end of the twelfth "Baktun," of which there are twenty. It happens every 400 years, so chill the fuck out. If there are any major catastrophic events going on this year, they are going to be the result(s) of human stupidity, and hysteria induced by conspiracy theorists and false prophets... or the GOP. Tomato, tomahto.
Here's a crazy idea: Concentrate on making the world better. There's going to be a lot of chaos in the year to come. Not because the world is going to end, but because too many people Think it will. There's the danger. There are too many people afraid of too many things, and this will be a problem.
All I ask is this: When you think the world's going to end, and you think the apocalypse is upon us because the date is approaching, remember the rapture Back in October, and the one in May, and the one back in 1994 that never came either.
Monday, December 19, 2011
I'm a Self-Loathing Closet Homosexual Who Desperately Wants to Win, and I Approve This Message.
So, I just watched the most disliked video of all time on youtube,
Rick Perry's "Strong" ad, where he ACTUALLY says:
Okay, so let's take the ACTUAL transcript from Sick Perry's ad, and go through it, shall we?
I'm not ashamed to admit that I'm a Christian,
(Stop! No one is, Rick. Not in America, not anymore. As a matter of fact, most people will make every effort to beat your head in with their bible, sooner than act in the appropriate "christian" way toward you. This, obviously, includes you, so just stop with the phony persecution act.)
but you don't need to be in the pew every Sunday to know there's something wrong in this country when gays can serve openly in the military but our kids can't openly celebrate Christmas or pray in school.
(actually, the bible doesn't say anything about having to be in a pew EVER. Resting your fat, wealthy ass on an oak slab while you preen and posture, and pretend you're not good enough for god once a week while pretending you ARE god the other six days does NOT a christian make! I can't even wrap my head around this one. This entire sentence, from "don't need to be in a pew every Sunday..." to "...pray in school" just epitomizes non-sequitur, and makes the hamster running the wheel in my head do cartwheels. What the FUCK are you talking about?!)
As President, I'll end Obama's war on religion. (Obama is not campaigning against religion, we're talking about the POTUS here in 2011, not King James... whom you should all know... especially, ironically, republican christians)
And I'll fight against liberal attacks on our religious heritage. (of which there are none)
Faith made America strong. (No, unity made America strong).
It can make her strong again. I'm Rick Perry and I approve this message.
Rick, I don't know if you really want to cop to approving this message. It's rife with the obscenity, vulgarity, and myopia that has come to define your party. While you may gain entrance to the country club as a result of shilling their ridiculous, outmoded views, you're certainly not going to gain voters. Thank you, however, for giving us all a glimpse into what could happen to our system and way of life if we cease to care about our political system. Oh, and another thing,Dick Faerie Rick Perry, the whole "I don't want no queers lookin' at me while I'm in the barracks" thing is ridiculous. Enough, already. Let me tell you something, if someone believes in what they're doing, and has that level of patriotism that they're willing to die to protect our way of life, without question, they can go right ahead and cover my ass whether they're checking it out or not! As a matter of fact, if they choose to check out my ass while they're preventing it from being shot off, that's fine! I'll consider it a compliment, and be glad about it. It's the least I can do if that person is willing to take a fucking round through the chest in my defense... asshole!
For the record: our children ARE allowed to pray openly in school. There is nothing disallowing it. The only limit to prayer in school is in regards to public schools, and even then, students are allowed to pray openly, as a matter of fact, teachers are not allowed to tell them they can't. The limit is that teachers in a public school are not allowed to lead their classroom in prayer... in a public school. It's a matter of respecting other people's religious beliefs, something it seems the Christian right is losing sight of more and more these days.
Rick Perry's "Strong" ad, where he ACTUALLY says:
I'm not ashamed to admit that I'm a Christian, but you don't need to be in the pew every Sunday to know there's something wrong in this country when gays can serve openly in the military but our kids can't openly celebrate Christmas or pray in school. As President, I'll end Obama's war on religion. And I'll fight against liberal attacks on our religious heritage. Faith made America strong. It can make her strong again. I'm Rick Perry and I approve this message.You know what? I honestly can't believe people are taking this guy seriously. I mean, It's easier to accept Jimmy McMillan as a serious candidate! Especially with that FABULOUS geocities website, amirite?
Okay, so let's take the ACTUAL transcript from Sick Perry's ad, and go through it, shall we?
I'm not ashamed to admit that I'm a Christian,
(Stop! No one is, Rick. Not in America, not anymore. As a matter of fact, most people will make every effort to beat your head in with their bible, sooner than act in the appropriate "christian" way toward you. This, obviously, includes you, so just stop with the phony persecution act.)
but you don't need to be in the pew every Sunday to know there's something wrong in this country when gays can serve openly in the military but our kids can't openly celebrate Christmas or pray in school.
(actually, the bible doesn't say anything about having to be in a pew EVER. Resting your fat, wealthy ass on an oak slab while you preen and posture, and pretend you're not good enough for god once a week while pretending you ARE god the other six days does NOT a christian make! I can't even wrap my head around this one. This entire sentence, from "don't need to be in a pew every Sunday..." to "...pray in school" just epitomizes non-sequitur, and makes the hamster running the wheel in my head do cartwheels. What the FUCK are you talking about?!)
As President, I'll end Obama's war on religion. (Obama is not campaigning against religion, we're talking about the POTUS here in 2011, not King James... whom you should all know... especially, ironically, republican christians)
And I'll fight against liberal attacks on our religious heritage. (of which there are none)
Faith made America strong. (No, unity made America strong).
It can make her strong again. I'm Rick Perry and I approve this message.
Rick, I don't know if you really want to cop to approving this message. It's rife with the obscenity, vulgarity, and myopia that has come to define your party. While you may gain entrance to the country club as a result of shilling their ridiculous, outmoded views, you're certainly not going to gain voters. Thank you, however, for giving us all a glimpse into what could happen to our system and way of life if we cease to care about our political system. Oh, and another thing,
For the record: our children ARE allowed to pray openly in school. There is nothing disallowing it. The only limit to prayer in school is in regards to public schools, and even then, students are allowed to pray openly, as a matter of fact, teachers are not allowed to tell them they can't. The limit is that teachers in a public school are not allowed to lead their classroom in prayer... in a public school. It's a matter of respecting other people's religious beliefs, something it seems the Christian right is losing sight of more and more these days.
Monday, December 12, 2011
Just a Microblurb.
Where the hell did this weekend go?! It's Monday already. Wasn't it JUST Friday? I've got nothing. No major injustices went through this weekend, they already took care of that last week.
I was poking around looking at the presidential hopefuls this year. Seems the people that make up the GOP can't even seem to decide among themselves who to put up there. I counted 15 republican hopefuls. FIFTEEN! To the Democrats count of two. Obama, and Terry. So basically, let's face it. One. Obama. I don't know why terry is on the Democratic ticket. I'm confused. can anyone explain this to me? Have you seen this guy? Him declaring a to be a democrat and being allowed to do it would be like me claiming to be a christian, and people simply accepting that as truth.
I was going to say I have nothing to be really pissed off about today... then I saw this. I have no words.
I was poking around looking at the presidential hopefuls this year. Seems the people that make up the GOP can't even seem to decide among themselves who to put up there. I counted 15 republican hopefuls. FIFTEEN! To the Democrats count of two. Obama, and Terry. So basically, let's face it. One. Obama. I don't know why terry is on the Democratic ticket. I'm confused. can anyone explain this to me? Have you seen this guy? Him declaring a to be a democrat and being allowed to do it would be like me claiming to be a christian, and people simply accepting that as truth.
I was going to say I have nothing to be really pissed off about today... then I saw this. I have no words.
Saturday, December 10, 2011
T.G.I.Fuck it.
Okay, I know, I'm late. Let's just pretend I posted this yesterday, and everyone will be happy.
So I'm tired of wasting my time. I spent 8 hours at work, or engaged in activities directly related to it, and got paid minimum wage (that's 7.25 an hour) for the four hours I was actually at work. The other fours hours was en route, waiting for my check (which should have been there when I got there), and running errands reliant on that check. That measly, 96 dollar check. 105 of which (yes, that gives you a negative number) flew directly from my hands to T-mobile for the phone bill.
Anyway, I grossed 29 dollars yesterday. For four hours of "work." I use quotations because it isn't challenging, it isn't rewarding, and it isn't fulfilling. You know, it's a job. Out of that, I will net 25 bucks. So if you throw in the 4 hours my job sucked out of my life on top of the four hours I was imprisoned in retail jail, I made a realized profit of 25 hours for eight hours of effort. According to mathematics, I realized a net gain of 3.60 an hour yesterday for grief, to be cold, hungry, tired, cranky, and listen to atrocious country music and screaming uncontrolled rugrats, while getting grief from my boss because I was wearing jeans (No, not JEANS! Lookout, we got a badass over here!), Instead of writing a few articles for the other job I just picked up.
Why?
Because I was trying to be nice. I'm trying to not saunter out on my part time job with no notice. At this point, however, I say fuck it.
For the record, Fridays will typically be a more lighthearted (though still angst filled) rant, rave, or reflection on the past week. I'd rather start your weekends off on a light, amusing note, than with a downer. So kickback, relax, and laugh at my pain.
~So sayeth the Mofo.
So I'm tired of wasting my time. I spent 8 hours at work, or engaged in activities directly related to it, and got paid minimum wage (that's 7.25 an hour) for the four hours I was actually at work. The other fours hours was en route, waiting for my check (which should have been there when I got there), and running errands reliant on that check. That measly, 96 dollar check. 105 of which (yes, that gives you a negative number) flew directly from my hands to T-mobile for the phone bill.
Anyway, I grossed 29 dollars yesterday. For four hours of "work." I use quotations because it isn't challenging, it isn't rewarding, and it isn't fulfilling. You know, it's a job. Out of that, I will net 25 bucks. So if you throw in the 4 hours my job sucked out of my life on top of the four hours I was imprisoned in retail jail, I made a realized profit of 25 hours for eight hours of effort. According to mathematics, I realized a net gain of 3.60 an hour yesterday for grief, to be cold, hungry, tired, cranky, and listen to atrocious country music and screaming uncontrolled rugrats, while getting grief from my boss because I was wearing jeans (No, not JEANS! Lookout, we got a badass over here!), Instead of writing a few articles for the other job I just picked up.
Why?
Because I was trying to be nice. I'm trying to not saunter out on my part time job with no notice. At this point, however, I say fuck it.
For the record, Fridays will typically be a more lighthearted (though still angst filled) rant, rave, or reflection on the past week. I'd rather start your weekends off on a light, amusing note, than with a downer. So kickback, relax, and laugh at my pain.
~So sayeth the Mofo.
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