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Make it Stop!

Friday, March 18th, 2011

I would insist I am of sound mind and temperament, but I’m beginning to wonder lately if I really am. I’ve come to a conclusion. Either I am completely batshit, or worse, I am the only sane one left in America these days. Don’t argue with me, just look at the proof:

Pssst. You forgot to get dressed.

Did you see it too? Whew! Okay, I’m not alone. Since when has it become acceptable to wear your pajamas in public? Did I miss the general memo that went out to all Americans that this was in some way appropriate? I went to buy Girl Scout Cookies the other day and decided not to because there were little Victoria’s Secret bimbo wannabes there in their “Pink” brand pajamas and Ugg(ly) boots. No uniform, no sash, no badges, NO SALE. End of discussion. It’s never too early to conduct yourselves with dignity, ladies. Yes, I let their parent/guardian/overlord/whoever the hell she was what I thought.

Just when I thought I managed to escape the insanity, I had to pass this Bull. Shit.

If the belt isn't around your waist, your fucking pants ARE NOT ON.

They’re not on. There are women and puppies in this neighborhood, and none of them want to see your ass. Really. We don’t. Ask around. Please get arrested for indecent exposure while you’re at it.

I was confronted by this “message” on my Facebook wall the other day:

i googles him n its jus soooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo sad wat happened 2 him. all im askin is tht u lyt a single candle 2nyt when the sun goes dwn. he shld of n wld of been 21 yrs old 2day. im still stuck on how 2 10 yr olds cld b THT cruel n sadistic 2wards A 2 YR OLD !! ((james was 2 when he was murdered by 2 10 yr olds))

If anyone has any fucking clue what happened there, please let me know in real English, or even Spanish (I speak, read and write both), not gibberish. I’m sure there was a valid point there, I just have no fucking clue what it is.

You know, the world is not kind to English majors and those of us who can be bothered with writing grammatically correct, coherent sentences. I’m the old-fashioned, stuffy one because I feel that there should be some level of comprehensibility to anything you write. I’d like to think that the only reason something like the atrocity above exists is because the poor person writing it only has two fingers left, both located on the same hand. I fear that may not be the case. Anyway, if you can translate this from lazy dumbass to English, please let me know.

Oh, and there is a thing on all QWERTY keyboards, your cell phones and PDA’s called the “Shift” key. It makes big, pretty letters that look like this: I, K, E, R, V, B, etc. You get the idea. Feel free to use that whenever that naughty little personal pronoun “I” crops up. There’s no charge, it takes no skill and anyone can learn to do it.

Maybe I just need to leave social media for a bit. Take a walk, look around the neighborhood, say hi to everyone….

What. The. Fuck.

I'm sure she parked the horse about a block away and decided to walk.

This is clearly a commercial image. However, on the average day in Oakland or San Francisco, you will see at least a dozen young impressionables wearing riding boots while striding up and down the hills of the Bay Area. Why, I don’t know. Once again, nobody remembered to tell me about the massive outbreak in ponies we had in the city last month. I don’t have a pair of riding boots (anymore). What happens if I happen to encounter a pony? I don’t have boots, a lariat or even a taser should the pony become violent. People need to let me know this is happening.

I can’t even take shelter in a store. Every time I do, I’m confronted by this:

They're fugly. Just STFU about how supposedly comfortable they are, admit it and move on.

These are the ugliest fucking shoes manufactured in the history of mankind. A shitty piece of gaudy colored plastic with holes so you can put your Hello Kitty charms in them. Really? You’d wear that as an adult? Look, the only time these pieces of shit are appropriate are when you are 6 and hanging out at the beach. They’re only one step up from flip-flops, which, I don’t give a fuck what you say, are still not shoes. They’re not even close, and don’t attempt to justify your affinity for having a quarter inch thick piece of shit rubber on your feet by saying they have rhinestones on them. Flip-flops are not fucking shoes. Period.

Somebody get me a bucket and some Ativan. I'm not joking. Scratch 'n sniff, everyone!

You know, I’m just going to go home and bleach my eyeballs. And my brain, so I don’t have to live with the traumatic memory of all this shit. I can’t take it anymore. Somebody, please make it stop. Just please, for the love of God and your own human dignity, make it stop.

America has become a nation of illiterate, lazy slobs. Yet we still find time for righteous indignation when other countries make fun us. At least we can still muster up enough energy to do that, if not pull our pajama bottoms up.

Yeah, I'd learn English, but I'm not doin' that 'cause some liberal, pinko, commie, egghead snob sez so. Besides, "American Idol" is on.

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God Save the Who?

Monday, February 7th, 2011

Last Sunday was Superbowl Sunday in the U.S. For those of you tuning in internationally, the Superbowl is the culmination of way too many fucking months of American style football. Because we in no way resemble North Korea or the USSR circa 1977, we need to start every sporting event with the playing of our national anthem. We do this because we are most assuredly patriots and not because we resemble a military dictatorship in any way. Sometimes the national anthem goes well. Other times, a little something like this happens.

Okay, grab a tissue and dab up the blood leaking out of your ear holes, it’s over. Thank God, because this bitch has no talent for this sort of thing and didn’t even attempt to get the lyrics right. This is a theoretically talented pop star with an assload of money and an entire entourage, including a police detail, all to herself. Why the hell couldn’t she get three lines of a song right? Seriously, were there no interns to beat before sending them off to look that shit up on Wikipedia? It’s the national fucking anthem, for Chrissake. It’s not like they asked her to actually remember epic poetry or the ingredients off a tortilla bag or something.

Maybe I’m being too harsh. After all, it would appear most Americans don’t know how to read or write English, let alone remember a complicated treatise like the national anthem. Let’s face it; we learn that song when we’re about five years old, and generally only sing it at sporting events. Singing at sporting events essentially means that everyone is drunk off their asses or at least getting there and all lyrics are negotiable. We’re all little hazy when it comes to anything patriotic besides depriving fellow Americans of their basic civil rights and making sure everyone, including the mentally incompetent, have access to automatic weapons. Of course it takes a non-American to point this out.

Okay, so here’s the idea. Let’s throw out the national anthem. Seriously, just get rid of it. Nobody knows what the hell it is and most people’s improvisations aren’t nearly as funny as Eddie Izzard’s. I’m having a thought here. Let’s make our new national anthem Bad Romance from Lady Gaga. No, no, no, NO. Hear me out. I think a bunch of slovenly drunkards who are too lazy to learn the damn thing even when they have to sing it in front of millions of viewers would do well with Bad Romance. I think we could all get through lyrics like these:

Rah-rah-ah-ah-ah!
Roma-Roma-ma-ah!
Ga-ga-ooh-la-la!
Want your bad romance

You can get through that drunk or sober, and even if you can’t, the improvisation is infinitely easier. See:

Blah, blah, blah, rah ah ah….
Roma, Foma, my ma!
Goggles are embossed!
Want more sad fire ants!

See? It works. I’m not being a pinko, commie, fascist, socialist terrorist here, I’m just trying to make life simpler for everyone. Think about it, then call your congressperson. Together we can make a difference. Now about those bleeding earholes: fill them with this.

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Addendum to the Twat Post

Sunday, December 19th, 2010

Well…I’ve have the foresight of Edgar Cayce on this one. See, it really IS possible to eat legos and shit out a castle!

Swallow whole, construct carefully in the intestines and hope for the best.

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Thank You for Not Giving a Shit

Friday, October 22nd, 2010

I am a consummate social media addict. I have to say that it helps me get through the day to burp out some rude comment on exactly how shitty the day is going. I try to make it brief and occasionally humorous. I’m sure that Facebook, MySpace, Twitter and Bebo have done a fair bit to connect people and even raise consciousness about some important causes. Causes and organizations can have their own sites with their own fan base. People can also write, post and twat about causes near and dear to them. But this makes me wonder. What are people actually trying to accomplish here? Just because somebody posts some bullshit about a cause or idea doesn’t mean they have any real commitment to it. Other posts are just plain patronizing and annoying.

Anybody can post anything as a status. Look, here’s my typical Facebook status:

I am the Queen of Burundi and my father is a small salt cellar.

See? It’s just that easy. It’s not in the least bit believable, but it’s just that easy. I have no commitments to this status and its content whatsoever. So, without further ado, I present to you some of my favorite pseudo-causes floating around Facebook. I’m sure I’ll get more to add to the collection as time wears on.

#1: Get out the flag lapel pin and do your best to look patriotic.

A US military member is somewhere in the world tonight missing their family while you are safe at home. In the minute it takes to read this, military members all over the world are not only saving lives, but sacrificing their own for our freedom. It’s Military Appreciation Week…Repost this if you are or were in the military, love a military member, hold memories of a fallen hero, or appreciate our troops!

Yes, repost this status, as opposed to say…uh…writing your Congressperson or Representative and demanding the return of all U.S. soldiers in Iraq and Afghanistan now. Or, if you’re a Rethuglican, actually putting your money where your cake hole is and demanding to have no more unfunded wars that add to the deficit and, most importantly, voting accordingly.

#2: We’re all alone out here…

A true friend doesn’t care when you’re broke, what you weigh, if your house is a mess, about your past, or if your family is filled with crazies…they love you for who you are. A true friend can go long periods of time without speaking to you & never question the friendship. Repost if…you have at least one true friend…

As opposed to calling them and inviting them to lunch, or offering to help them out around the house, offering them a favor or just dropping them a line to say “Hi.” I’m sure they appreciate this idiotic random status.

I am a very sad kitty with no friends.

#3: The only thing being a martyr gets you is dead.

To all the unselfish moms out there who traded eyeliner for dark circles, salon cuts for ponytails, long baths for quick showers, late nights for early mornings, designer bags for diaper bags … and wouldn’t change a thing. Let’s see how many moms repost this. Moms who don’t care…about……..whatever they gave up, but… instead… LOVE what they get in return. Repost this if you’re a mom and LOVE YOUR KIDS.

I guess if you don’t repost that it means that you hate those little bastards. Hey, kids, did you know that I haven’t smiled since the day you were born? Don’t believe me? Look up my Facebook status, you little shits. Now get a job because Momma needs a designer hand bag.

I'll give you one arrow for every time you don't feel appreciated so you can feel like this at home.

#4: ANY cause célèbre or cause du jour:

Autism is a legitimate disorder that affects 1 in 200 children. There is no known cause or cure for autism. Please repost this status if you are affected by or know someone who is affected by autism.

This one applies to ADHD, breast cancer, herpes, vitiligo, hell anything with the possible exception being illiteracy. If you’re illiterate, you’re shit outta luck in the status department.

Just tell me what the damn sign says, will you?

#5: Guilt assuaging via social media

My parents were MEAN to me when I was a kid! They made me do chores, go to church and school. They gave me a curfew, made me get a job and work for the things I wanted. They insisted that I do my best at school and my job and take pride in my work. I grew up with morals, a good work ethic and respect………for the law. I thank my MEAN parents everyday!!! (copy and paste if you agree).

I’m sure you do. I’m sure you got off the phone with your sainted mother just long enough to queef out that status. Hooray for you. Either you’re full of shit, or you’re sucking up for some reason. Somebody get me a bucket, I have to throw up.

You and me both, dog. Now get outta the way, I'm coming through!

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No Hablo Escargot

Wednesday, October 20th, 2010

In the never-ending attempt to destroy the English language 140 characters at a time, a person on Facebook assaulted me with this word the other day:

“CHILLAX”

I know what she was getting at. Unfortunately her approach to sounding cool made me want to jump through the fiber optics and murderize her ass. The only people permitted to fuck with the English language besides me are English professors. The rest of you need to fall in line. (And use proper punctuation while you’re at it.) Let’s look at this from a visual perspective, shall we?

CHILL:

This is a bucket of liquid nitrogen. You can tell by the thick coating of frost around the rim that this is no temperate vat of liquid happiness. THIS is chilled.

AXE:

If you walk into the room carrying this, people automatically know you mean business. I am in no way referring to the distilled panther piss men seem to want to drown themselves in these days. Approach me with that Axe, and I’ll swing this one in the region of your neck.

CHILL + AXE = STUPID FUCKING MADE UP WORD

Don’t do shit like that. It’s not clever when the tabloids and crappy pseudo-news shows combine celebrity names, and it’s not cute when you try to combine words on your own. The only exception is the word “douchetard” which makes no attempt at being cute, but when applied properly to the right person, is entirely accurate.

If I catch you people doing this again, I’m going to DECAPISHITCINERATE you. You, being reasonably intelligent people, can discern what my message is here.

DECAPITATE:

Keeping the revolution alive for centuries.

SHIT: Pretty self-explanatory

INCINERATE:

It’s going to be a hot time in the old town tonight.

DECAPITATE + SHIT + INCINERATE = I am going to decapitate you with that damn axe, shit down your neck for spite then incinerate your remains and use you to toast marshmallows with.

Seriously, we’re not all in 4th grade anymore. Write accordingly. Enough said. Here’s a cat eating a watermelon.

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Everyone’s Entitled to My Opinion

Friday, September 24th, 2010

This one’s just a quickie because it weighs heavily on my mind right now. No thrills, frills or Lady CaCa (she’s so fabulous, though, I have to begrudgingly admit) videos. I’m thinking about friendship, even the insubstantial ones that occur on line. Here it is: I recently got dumped on Facebook by several friends. Why?

My Status.

Yes, it’s just that simple. You see, there’s an ugly phenomenon in this country right now where people attack Muslims for no reasons. Mosques have been burned, groups burn copies of the Q’uran, and thousands are protesting the NOT AT ALL a mosque being built NOWHERE NEAR THE WTC SITE. Really, it’s not. I lived in NYC. You can’t see the site of the future community center from the WTC site. What you can see, however, is a “gentleman’s club” (aka titty bar), a McDonald’s, a site where they shot a reality TV show and dozens of souvenir stands. Hallowed ground my aching ass.

Back to the point. Every day during Ramadan I posted the daily Dura as my status. I did this in solidarity for my Muslim friends, the Muslim community and even total strangers who don’t deserve to have their mosque burned down by a bunch of ignorant assholes. No, I’m NOT a Muslim. I don’t believe in much besides gravity, the Flying Spaghetti Monster and the little lavender men in the sugar bowl.

Okay, I had to sneak at least one in.

People in this country spew off about how they have freedom of speech and can say whatever they want. That’s technically not true, but I’m not arguing Constitutional law today. I don’t have the energy. What is important is that the same people who go on and on about freedom of speech seem to sincerely believe that it also implies freedom from being offended or listening to somebody else’s ideas, opinions, religious views, etc. We’re all granted with freedom of speech in as much as it agrees with what they have to say. Even if what they say is a pile of steaming bullshit.

In a phrase: Everyone is entitled to MY opinion. Everyone else can face discrimination, hatred, verbal abuse or violence. After all, you have the right to defend your opinion, right? Right? Here’s another photograph. Sadly, it’s the world right before the venom spitting minority in the government decided that those bad people from the other religion were wrong, bad, dirty, foreign and too much of the “other” to be allowed to live among the “good” people.

Lest we forget.

They came first for the Communists,
and I didn’t speak up because I wasn’t a Communist.

Then they came for the trade unionists,
and I didn’t speak up because I wasn’t a trade unionist.

Then they came for the Jews,
and I didn’t speak up because I wasn’t a Jew.

Then they came for me
and by that time no one was left to speak up.

- Friedrich Gustav Emil Martin Niemöller

I’ve been to Dachau. I won’t forget. I won’t back down. I won’t fail to speak. I won’t stop standing in solidarity with those of us who really do know what the Constitution says, and really do want to defend it.

I hate conditional friendships. I wish I could get full disclosure from those people. “I’m a good, holy fundamentalist who’ll be your friend as long as you toe the line and don’t disagree with my warped interpretation of a religious text.” That would be a good start, then I could steer clear in the first place.

“I’m a good, holy, God-fearing Christian that believes God loves all men just so long as they are Christians who agree with my narrow-minded literal translation of mythology.” That could work too.

“Everyone’s entitled to my opinion.” That is self-evident.

I’m a scientist who has read the Bible, the Torah, the Vedas, the Q’uran, the Eightfold Path, the writings of Stephen Hawking and even some of the I Ching. That disturbs traditional fundamentalists. I can’t tell you what the truth is, I can only say that don’t even tell me you have an open mind if you don’t. In the mean time, we only have one more issue to address, and it’s a doozy.

I’m not trying to proselytize; I’m just saying they’re in there. You don’t want to take that lid off, trust me. The little lavender men won’t be your friend if you keep taking off the lid…

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Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell, Just Shut the Fuck Up

Wednesday, September 22nd, 2010

How damn senile does a senator have to be for the American people to finally fire his ass? I ask myself all the time. I swear, half the time when I’m watching CSPAN, the only thing I can hear are colostomy bags filling and arteries hardening. Right now, the stupid old fogies running our government are up to their old tricks: not getting a fucking thing done. Come; join me on another trip down the hypocrite highway where our only stop will be where the most bass-ackwards piece of shit legislation to grace our system of law resides.

For those of you living in a progressive, secular nation, that is America’s “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” law. It essentially bans gays and lesbians from serving in the military and allows dismissal purely on the grounds of sexual orientation. (Click the last sentence to Wikipedia that bitch and get back to me.) Basically it says that when you’re in a foxhole, somebody could be so queer that they prevent you from shooting the bad guy. I don’t know how that works. I’m sure Old Man McCain has some bullshit explanation for me.

This whole Senate thing is the best job he will NEVER remember.

This senile old bastard is John McCain. He’s a Vietnam veteran, and apparently knows first-hand how gays can disrupt the entire unit. Or possibly not. He probably can’t remember; he’s over 72 years old and the Napalm apparently fried his brain ages ago. He just proved how old and tired he actually is by pulling this little stunt. The DADT law is up for repeal right now. He said that the issue needed more debate (Not sure why. Maybe because all those damn, dirty queers keep stealing all the bullets and should always be suspect on the war front.) However, when it came time to debate the issue, the miserable old fuck decided to filibuster (talk that shit to death). Now, I don’t know about you, but if you want debate, don’t vote down your chance to debate you stupid hypocritical asshole. I think somebody needs his B vitamins, some applesauce, an afternoon nap, a place in the retirement home and a fat dose of SHUT THE FUCK UP.

Wait. I’m wrong. He doesn’t need to shut the fuck up. He just needs to actually get his old ass out to that senate floor and start talking. The Democrats need to call his bluff. Look, don’t just threaten to talk the bill to death, I want to see you get out there and start talking for 4 days straight until it’s dead, or you’re dead, or possibly both.

I guess my problem is; I don’t even see the need to debate this. You see, I’m looking at a completely different picture here, and it’s one that Pepaw McCain can’t see. Maybe he needs to re-evaluate his position, or perhaps the old bitch just needs bifocals. Then, maybe, just maybe, he’d see this:

This is exactly what you think it is. Your homework assignment: Stop thinking you know what it says, read it, and this time actually know what it REALLY says.

Here’s what it says (minds, prepare to be blown):

Article 14, U.S. Constitution:

Section 1. All persons born or naturalized in the United States, and subject to the jurisdiction thereof, are citizens of the United States and of the State wherein they reside. No State shall make or enforce any law which shall abridge the privileges or immunities of citizens of the United States; nor shall any State deprive any person of life, liberty, or property, without due process of law; nor deny to any person within its jurisdiction the equal protection of the laws.

Well fuck me; I guess that kind of kills those anti-gay laws like Proposition Hate and DADT. Damn that equal protection, stopping a bunch of prejudicial rectal warts from stripping others of their rights. There’s got to be some way around it. After all, the Constitution doesn’t specifically mention homosexuality, and therefore a handful of bigots and religious lunatics should have every right to strip the people they don’t approve of of their rights.

Article 9, U.S. Constitution

The enumeration in the Constitution, of certain rights, shall not be construed to deny or disparage others retained by the people.

Fuck. Well, the founding fathers never wanted this shit. They were all saints, good holy folk and blah, blah, blah, right?

James Madison

“It has been objected also against a Bill of Rights, that, by enumerating particular exceptions to the grant of power, it would disparage those rights which were not placed in that enumeration; and it might follow by implication, that those rights which were not singled out, were intended to be assigned into the hands of the General Government, and were consequently insecure. This is one of the most plausible arguments I have ever heard against the admission of a bill of rights into this system; but, I conceive, that it may be guarded against. I have attempted it, as gentlemen may see by turning to the last clause of the fourth resolution.”

Goddamn founding fathers. Well, I guess there’s no way around this: gays, you’re in the army now. Oh, and you better get married before you leave. If you like it better put a ring on it. Just do it while the puritanical old fucks in Congress aren’t looking. Nothing’s worse than some old papaw staggering into your party wearing nothing but a threadbare bathrobe, carrying a bottle of Maalox and saggy old scrotum dragging on the ground busting up your event and killing any buzz you could get off it.

What kills me the most is the attitude of these bastards. Supposedly the men and women fighting in Iraq and Afghanistan are fighting to protect our freedoms. They’re not. Those poor people are fighting Bush’s vanity wars for territory and oil and we all know it. However, let’s go back to the myth that they’re fighting for American freedoms. Who wants to fight for supposed freedoms that they aren’t even entitled to? To force somebody to fight for rights he or she can’t have all because some narrow-minded assholes just don’t want it is the most vile hypocrisy of all. Don’t take my word for it; I’m just another anonymous blogger. Take this gal’s word for it. I can’t be the only one screaming for justice over answering services.

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The Litter Channel

Wednesday, September 1st, 2010

He’d gladly put your kid out on the stroll, even if he’s only 2.

There used to be a channel on American television called “The Learning Channel.” It used to show programs and documentaries about various health issues, cooking, biographies and historical subjects. That was a long time ago. Unfortunately that channel is gone, replaced by a network called TLC. TLC is an acronym for “The Litter Channel.” You see, the producers at TLC have replaced all the decent, watchable programs with programs about couples with anywhere from eight to 19 kids. Yes, people are now producing litters, and with no other means of support, are whoring their own children out to television networks. I blame the jackasses who watched the tasteless display of famewhoring that was “Jon & Kate Plus Who Gives a Fuck?” Seriously, who gives a fuck? You had eight kids. It’s not my problem, and I don’t want to hear about it. That wonderful, nuclear family is now divorced, the mother has become a surgery grubbing famewhore and I’m sure those kids will be either in therapy or jail by the time they’re 12.

Pimping out the kids; a fine North American tradition since 1935.

If those girls don’t look familiar, they are the Dionne quintuplets. Born in May of 1935, they were the first surviving set of quintuplets in North America and they lived their lives as a theme park attraction to tourists in Canada. This was before the advent of television, so you actually had to go to the compound where they lived and observe them in through one-way screens in their natural habitat—their house. Yes, people cashed in. Ironically, it was not their parents. Doctors declared their parents unfit and decided to take the girls into captivity with the hopes of someday rehabilitating them to their natural environment. Oh, and using them as a form of entertainment for gawkers across two continents.

The Litter Channel continues in this fine tradition with their entire line-up of prime time shows: 19 Kids & Counting, Quints-By-Surprise, Kate Plus Eight (Still Don’t Give a Fuck), and Holy Shit, My Uterus is a Fucking Clown Car. The latest blight on the broadcast ether is “Quints,” a delightful story about a couple of rich fucks who built a McMansion in Texas, decided to implant all five embryos during in vitro fertilization (so…were those five kids really a surprise then?) and then lost their fortune during the real estate bust. Nobody likes being a broke-ass loser, so they did what comes naturally: pimp out their kids. They also have a blog site that looks like a vanity ministry (Jayzus would be so proud) and of course, all the self-righteous hypocrisy that accompanies religious lunacy. I don’t have a picture of these assholes; I think they’re appalling. Maybe there’s a picture of America’s other favorite batch of religious nutjobs in need of an IUD, the Duggars!

Nope, not them. Although I have to say that this slime packed can has a shitload more taste than the people who watch those shows.

I’m a chemist, not a biologist, but I seem to remember from my bio classes that humans are not supposed to spawn litters. The uterus is most likely a single-occupancy dwelling, and can comfortably accommodate two at best. However, there are some that find having a litter quite fashionable. It’s the current trend. Have kids later in life, and when you do, have a litter. Look, if we were supposed to have litters, we’d also have six nipples, just like a cat. I have no problem with people who have kids later in life. What I’m taking issue with is jackasses that have the 27 embryos implanted then whine and cry that their broke and need to join the freak show to earn a living. You people made the choice; suck it up bitches. What I found even more galling is this spawning waste of taxpayer’s money:

Nadya Suleman, having kids by the dozen with your money. Isn’t Welfare an automatic disqualification for in vitro?

This is Nadya Suleman, aka, “Octomom.” Suleman had her doctor implant six embryos she had stored in the freezer after a previous in vitro treatment. Two of them twinned, and seven months later we have a litter. “Awwwww”-ers everywhere were on board with this, getting ready to shuffle donations of diapers, formula and cash to this whore until they ran headlong into the truth. Octomom had in vitro done while she was collecting Welfare and was on Medical/Medicare. Oh, she also had six other kids from previous in vitro cycles which she couldn’t afford to feed and literally could not put a roof over their heads. At the time of the octuplets’ births, she recently lost her home to foreclosure, collected Welfare and used food stamps. She lives in California. Since I pay taxes in this state, and don’t want my money being spent on this bullshit, I think that I have the right to sell those kids to the first buyer I find on EBay. Fuck her and her litter; I want my money back.

Suleman didn’t get her reality show on TLC. The circumstances of that whole reproductive debacle incised the public and got her in vitro doctor stripped of his license. Serves them right. Unfortunately some innocent kids will pay the price for her bullshit. The same can be said for the Duggars, the Joneses and the Gosslins. Those kids will be lucky to not end up axe murderers or on Thorazine by the time they reach 16. At the very least, these kids will grow up hounded and haunted by fans and stalkers. At worst, these kids will become the most narcissistic bastards who ever walked and feel they can do whatever they like and consequences be damned. The rest of us will have to hear about it for all eternity as well, condemning us to a life of repetitive fluff pieces straight out of media hell. Still looking for the Duggars…

Nope, but I’m getting warmer!

Look, I’m not saying that no good can ever come from a big family. In fact, there’s one family with 19 children that was so successful, all of the children became healthy, relatively happy, productive adults. What makes the story so remarkable is that the children were NOT the spawn of a couple of in vitro addicted yuppies or religious loonies. The DeBolt family adopted 15 special needs children throughout their younger years. The adoption agencies considered the children “unadoptable” because the all of them had one or more physical or mental disability. These people adopted them and raised them to be well-grounded, successful adults. It’s worth noting that they did this far away from the prying eyes of the public. They never begged for donations, didn’t want people’s pity and never once whored those kids out to a television network. Big props to the DeBolts: there are true saints in this world.

May I hold these folks up as a shining example? Take that famewhores.

Okay, I’m quitting these bitches now. If I keep staring at these people, I’m going to be tempted to round them up with control sticks, put them in a metal van and take them to the shelter to be spayed. I’m never turning TLC on again unless they give me a shitload of money to watch this bullshittery. However, I don’t want to forget why I’m doing this. Let me immortalize this entry with that picture of the Duggars.

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Customer Service

Friday, August 13th, 2010

I recently spent some time in voice jail trying to get a hold of a customer service representative. What a fun and joyful way to waste an hour in the morning. Man, I loves me some voice jail.

For peeling paint, press 1. If the cup you rattle the bars with lost its handle, press 2. If you’re experiencing enough mental anguish to get an entry in the Journal of American Psychology, press the pound button really, really hard.

I can’t emphasize to you how much I really fucking hate this era of no human operators. I’m stuck in the antiquated mindset that sincerely believes issues can be resolved that much easier if you could just talk to another human being. Unfortunately, I live in the era of pressing fifty buttons and attempting to get a non-living entity to literally understand my vocal responses. I have no patience for pressing 27 buttons just to end up being forwarded to an operator anyway, and I have recently resorted to screaming operator from the minute the robobitch operator picks up the line.

No, you goddamn stupid machine, I said I needed a balance as of last night, NOT a blazing transvestite. Fuck.

Now, it’s been said that Americans are becoming ruder, less patient and completely unruly in their everyday lives. I understand. Almost nothing gets me as wound up as fighting to navigate voice jail. I can’t stand those fucking “describe your problem briefly” bullshit exercises in which the machine doesn’t understand a word you say and then takes 12 minutes to forward you to an operator anyway. Just put me on with the fucking operator in the first place. Don’t make me say something 6,513 times only to keep saying in that artificially cheery and grating tone, “I’m sorry, I didn’t understand your response. Let’s try this again.” Of course you didn’t understand; you’re not even fucking real. My kingdom for the bad old days when you could just go to the operator in the first place.

That’s a klassic. Now, if you don’t remember that routine, it’s past your bedtime. Go to bed. Don’t tell your parents you read this blog either, you’re going to be in trouble. But seriously, there are only so many phrases a machine can respond to, and it can’t recognize every single language or English in every single accent on earth. This is a fact. I have a few friends from Great Britain that have no luck whatsoever getting any machine from the U.S. to understand a word they say. Apparently answering machines only speak Midwestern and Trailer Park. That high-brow upper crust thing just doesn’t register.

Now, on the note of Americans being rude. Well, yes we are. We really wouldn’t be if you customer service people didn’t force us into it. In the past few months I’ve had CS reps from India/Pakistan/Bangladesh that couldn’t understand a word that I said, Americans who honestly can’t seem to answer a question no matter how mundane, a jackass that simply read the company’s website to me and more than a dozen CS reps from around the world that really couldn’t give a shit, even if it did mean I’d get the hell off their lines. Look, I hate you as much as you hate me, and if I could get the answer off the damn website, do you really think I’d bother to call you? Look, I understand that CS rep is one of the shittiest jobs in the world that doesn’t actually involve handling night soil.

This is the typical developing nation call center. Note the old-fashioned amber colored monitors.

Yeah, it has to suck talking to cranky bitches all day. Unfortunately that’s your fucking job, and it’s not our fault that you get to enjoy all the hostility of somebody who just had to scream “OPERATOR!” non-stop for the past 10 minutes for the whopping salary of $1.25 per day. Maybe you could encourage your employer to get rid of that whole voice jail thing.

Does this look familiar? It should, that was me earlier this week. All I wanted was one simple question answered, and they forced me to take the hard option.

Now, in your defense, we Americans could be a little less stupid. I know what it’s like dealing with stupid, high-maintenance bitches all day and it sucks. I know that to you, the typical person calling customer service looks a smidge like this:

I know you think that all Americans are like these folks:

Well, we’re not. Don’t act like we’re all here to lord some sort of false sense of superiority over you. Yes, there are plenty of chuckleheads out there, but most of us are just nice people pushed to the edge by shitty technology forcing us to scream at the phone. We’ll try to do better, I promise. Maybe we can start by taking Fox News off the air or something.

In the mean time, let me tip off some of you English speakers living in America on how to navigate long hold times and bullshit vocal response programs. The next time you get the robobitch, you may hear something similar to this: “Para español, marque el numero ocho.” (Fill in the number of your choice.) Press that number. Not only does this usually result in you being forwarded to an actual human being, I guarantee this human being will speak English. No shit. I can speak a little Spanish, but I’ve never had a problem talking to one of these reps. So far they can’t find a computer or a person in India that can navigate Spanish as well as real people. It’s just an added bonus that these people can also speak English. You know what that means…

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Just One Drop

Wednesday, July 7th, 2010

A “drop” back in the old, old, OLD days meant that you put the needle on the record one time and the client decided right then and there, on one drop and 15 seconds of music if the song was right. Sadly, I remember those days. However, now in the days of free license and the Internet, this isn’t so much an issue.

Sadly, every day “real world” distractions have kept me busy. Here are some real world “drop” plays that have made an impression. I have literally bought entire albums off of one track. It’s not at all common these days. Unfortunately, I remember a time when one single track could sell an entire album, sight unseen. Here’s a few to tide you over. Enjoy, and remember that I’m only doing this because I love you and want the best for you…

I don’t know about you, but I have no desire to NOT leave Alabama. I first saw this music on “Animidnight” on PBS in the United States. San Francisco Academy of Arts students made a video depicting an under water monorail traveling through the ocean with this music as its backdrop. It left an impression that would last forever. Thank you.

I can’t say I bought this album sight unseen. I heard the song, “Shittowne” in a friend’s car. I said, “Well, where do the crack heads live?” She replied, “Down the street from him.” I’ll be damned if she wasn’t 100% accurate. It wasn’t the best song from this album. I think this was, although that subject was and still is debatable. I bought an album based on this song. Good job, Live. (Homies from York, PA, close enough for jazz, as far as I’m concerned.)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rZv9R-KWcJM

This is one that rivals the “Alabama Blues” for the mostest, bestest song EVER. I love Tricky Kid, and this is the finest of his repertoire. Are you ready? I wasn’t, fell in love, and have been smitten ever since. Yes, I bought the album “Blue Lines” based solely on this song. I hadn’t heard any other tracks. Although now, I must say that “Be Thankful For What You’ve Got” is one of the best remakes EVER.

I used to live in northern Virginia, well before it became Depressistan.

All “proud Southerner and okay with the KKK” connections aside, I was a normal person who didn’t support the Confederate movement working in DC and living in N. VA after this song came out. I drove the Beltway every day and went to work like a good, non-cynical person. Oh, how times have changed. Anyway, the city at 5:00 a.m. is beautiful and lightly lighted like something out of Blade Runner. This song captures that in music. Congratulations, Postal Service. Oh, and “Give Up” is one of the mostest, bestest albums of all time. Check it out.

Okay, my bad. Sign in, and see the uncensored version of this Klassic. I bought an entire album based on this. Of course, it helps that I’m no stranger or mere voyeur in the bondage department. The album was, well…abrasive. I grew to love this strange, angry man from Pennsylvania (just like me). We have both mellowed out with time, as you will see. In the mean time, enjoy this total klassic, complete with crucified monkey, and then we’ll chat afterward.

So, I have but to assume you’re not completely uptight and hypocritical if you’re still with me right now. I bought “The Downward Spiral” based on that album. I have to point out, that as a reptile rescuer; I’m not impressed with the selection of reptiles and amphibians appearing in that video. The rest is history. I don’t want you to think that every impulse purchase is based on banal sexual desire though. There’s this serious lapse in judgment:

Oh yeah, we were all on board with that. That is, until we found out that the rest of the album sucked donkey swangers. I bounced back. I sold that bitch back at Rasputin ASAP. Don’t drink and listen. I have to admit, I lived in New York once. I live in Norcal NOW. I’ll stay soft and pinko commie thanks.

I have had slip-ups. I also have complete dead-on-balls hits. This is one hit that I will never regret:

I found this at a time when I was particularly down in my life, and watching this realized I could be so much more. It made me hope for the time when, like Star Trek, we could beam to other star systems with the blink of an eye, or at least visit them in the holodeck. The rest of the album is about the nuclear holocaust and the attitude of those that survived it. You should check it out.

Okay, a few seconds to revisit NIN. He’s mellowed out over the past 15 years, as have you. I bought an entire album off of this track, and have yet to regret it. There are some definite low points on this purely digital work, however, they pale in comparison to this gem beyond great price:

The last YouTube offering I have to dish out is the mostest, bestest video EVER. I bought this album based on this song. My mistake. The album isn’t that good; however, this video is over-the-top irresistible. If you don’t like cats, well, fuck you. I don’t have time to therapist out your “cats are too close to humans and therefore I hate them” complex. If you hate, torture or God forbid, kill cats, there’s a special place in hell reserved for you. For those of us who are compassionate humans, I give you this. This is the only video known to bring active joy and laughter to my heart. Enjoy, and remember I love you…

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