The Comfortable Rut

Further Proof of Pussification

2005-08-24T08:34:00.000-04:00

With a nod to George Carlin for the invention of the word.
I'm flipping through the channels last night and I come across a show I had heard of but hadn't seen before: "Filthy Rich Cattle Drive". It piqued my interest so I watched. Holy shit, what a bunch of jerkoffs.
The premise of the show is that a bunch of wealthy early 20s spoiled pricks, the reproductive mistakes of celebrities, are on this cattle drive led by a few more-or-less real cowboys and a cute lil cowgirl. I didn't catch the beginning so I don't know how they happened to be there. I can only hope that the purpose of their being there is to be killed by wolves, bears or mountain lions. Actually, they're such pussies a flock of parakeets could probably do them in.
I'm not overly judgmental (lie!), but being a swarthy he-man I feel qualified to say that these kids are so pussified and mentally fucked up that they have no discernible reason to continue living.
What? You don't believe I'm a he-man? There's no way for me to prove it to the satisfaction of a virtual jury, but I can tell you that as I sit here in my home office for 10 or 12 hours a day, in my bathrobe and bunny slippers, hardly an hour goes by that I don't have some type of manly thought pass through my head. Harleys, booze, female genitalia, yep, it's all in there. On weekends I get to actually go out and do swarthy things. Submitted as Exhibit A, here's a pic of my actual leg, taken while changing a lightbulb on the family yachtster. When a light burns out on a sailboat, it's invariably the one that's 40 feet up, and wimps don't change them.

Now that my credentials are established, let me get back to the loser roundup. In an ironic twist, the one kid that seems to have his head screwed on straight is the son of Robert Blake. Imagine that. The rest however, need a severe beating. The one most in need of having the stupid smacked off his face is Fabio, described as the 'son of an Ecuadorian businessman'. If I was this kid's father I'd force him to change his last name, then disown him. He's that big of a pussy. You'd think that with a name like that he'd have been on the receiving end of a fair number of bitch-slappings by now and his attitude would have improved, but apparently not.
Of course this is a co-ed adventure. Most of the girls are easy on the eyes, but their attitudes are as horrendous as the guys'. As I said, most aren't hard to look at but one is a real toad. She must have sneaked in when no one was looking. She wears these sun glasses that make her look like a giant bug. I suppose that in and around the fancy establishments of Bel Air, those glasses are a necessity. But here on Planet Earth they are nothing short of ridiculous. If I saw her on the street I'd probably try and step on her. She's the worst of the female lot on the show, the bitchiest whiner.

I think that the ideal episode of this show would have the cute cowgirl push the whiner chick's face into a pile of cow shit. Then finish off by giving Fabio a couple black eyes, or maybe just slap him around till he cried. I'd pay money to see that.

If Beverly Hills is full of people like this there's no way I could live there. Not that I'd ever be able to afford it, but even if I could I'd steer clear.

Now I've Seen Everything

2005-08-18T11:13:00.000-04:00

Check out the comment under the previous post. Friggin spam, in a comment. If people would use their talent and inventiveness for good instead of evil, the world would be a much better place.

Killing Time

2005-08-17T17:03:00.000-04:00

Well... Here you are again, killing time when you're supposed to be working. Wasting company resources that should be used to enrich people other than you. But I can't say I blame you, I'm doing the same thing.

Want to waste some time and have fun doing it? I just stumbled across this Comic Strip Generator. It's pretty cool, and some of the comics people have created are pissers. Of course, you have to wade through a lot of crap to find a nugget, but that's the same all over.

Here's one I created.

and here's a few I thought were good: 1 2 3 4

Enjoy

Going to the Dogs

2005-08-04T10:44:00.000-04:00

So where was I? Oh yeah... Dogs.

I like dogs as much as the next guy. I think they make great pets and I've had a few over the course of my life and I enjoyed their company immensely. Right now I don't have one because I'm trying to keep my life as simple as possible. I like to disappear for the weekend, take long weekend trips, go on vacation now and then, etc. I never was and never will be one of those people that feels they need to bring their pet everywhere they go, and I don't want to be running to and from a kennel to drop off and pick up a dog. Nor do I want to have to run home to let the dog out when I'm out having fun. Ergo, no high-maintenance pets. Been there, done that. I'll take a rain check for the time being.
As much as I like dogs, I absolutely detest yours. Let's face it - your dog sucks. It sheds, it barks incessantly, and it shits on my lawn.
In my warped view of the world there are four types of dog owners:

Normal dog owners. These are people that take good care of their dogs, make their lives comfortable, don't mistreat them, and see to it that their dogs aren't a nuisance to anyone else. They realize a dog is an animal and neither hold that against them nor put them on a pedestal. I was one of these. There may be 3 or 4 others in the world but I wouldn't count on it.
People that think dogs are small furry people. You know the types: The guy who can't go anywhere without his dog (complete with the requisite bandanna around its neck, of course); and the woman who dresses her poodle up like Paris Hilton and feeds it filet mignon. These are the kind of people that show up with their dog when they're invited to a party, and spend more time talking to the dog than anyone else.
People that have dogs that they just don't give a shit about. These are the kind of people that keep a dog tied up in the backyard on a 4 foot chain, 24 hours a day, 365 days a year. Or just as bad, just let them run around loose all the time. Generally one dog isn't enough to satisfy this type, they need a whole pack. The higher in quantity and larger in size, the better. They are usually low class, low IQ numbskulls, and probably litter too.
People that are an amalgam and display traits of all 3 above.

Both neighbors on either side of me have dogs. Naturally.
The dog on the left is loose all the time, I frequently find it sleeping in my front yard. I don't mind it too much since it shits elsewhere and doesn't make any racket. Although one time it decided it didn't like moles and dug up most of my back yard. I would've liked to take a shovel to its head after that episode. It is however, a chow. That and temperatures regularly over 90 are a bad combination. Throw in a good number of kids running around playing and you have a disaster waiting to happen. They're a young couple and this is probably their first house so they don't know any better. Or on the other hand they could be incurable dumbasses, it could go either way. Once their dog bites someone and they lose everything in a lawsuit they'll figure it out.

The dog on the right shits in my yard every day. Well, it used to till I set them straight. No exaggeration, every freaking day this mutt would shit in my front yard, and it's a big one too. This dog is nothing but a shit factory. It's old, feeble, and can barely walk, but it made it over here every day. These people are weird. They have a big fenced in yard but they don't let the dog in the yard, probably because they don't want its shit everywhere. What they do is either let it out the front door to crap in my yard or confine it on their deck, which is covered in shit. A nice big deck they could enjoy, but it's covered in dog shit. Dog lovers, go figure.
One day me and the wife were going for a ride on the Harley. I opened the garage door and there's the dog, taking a dump in my yard, as usual. I stormed out of the garage to chase the dog off, glance next door on my way and the whole fucking family was standing in their front yard watching their dog crap in my yard. What a bunch of jackasses. Naturally, I let them have it with both barrels, cuz that's what I do. I don't calmly explain how they could be better neighbors when they first do something inconsiderate, I do a slow burn as the annoying habit continues day after day. Then I eventually snap and come roaring in like a force 5 hurricane, leveling everything and everyone in my path. But that's the method I prefer, it keeps chit-chat to a minimum and gets the job done. At any rate, I don't find dog shit in my yard anymore.

Two doors down is the world-champion marathon barker. A very excitable and annoying terrier of some sort. One night, while I was asleep but my wife was kept awake by the yapping, she decided to call the cops on the schmuck / pet lover. She told me about it in the morning when I woke up. Unfortunately, as I explained to her, that schmuck is a cop. She says "Don't worry, they won't say who complained." Yeah right, and Karl Rove isn't vindictive. He probably didn't even have to ask before he was told who called. I don't think I've heard the last of that one yet.

So to summarize: If you have a dog take good care of it. It's your dog so keep it on your property. Clean up after it. Don't treat it better than a normal person would treat their children. Unless you're going to a park or to the vet , leave Fido at home. Don't foist your shedding, smelly, drooling, ill-mannered little darling on other people.
Follow these simple rules and others will appreciate your pet as much as you do.

Next time, more 'Must see PC': Neighbors who hate their neighbors, and the neighbors who hate them back. Be sure to tune in.

You Might Be A Redneck If...

2005-08-03T10:20:00.000-04:00

I know there are big problems in the world, and big problems right here at home. But you know what really pisses me off and detracts from the quality of my life? Litter. Yes, you heard that right: Litter.
What exactly goes through someone's head that makes them think it's perfectly acceptable to just throw their shit out their fucking car windows? Are they really that lazy that they can't take 3 extra steps the next time they get out of their cars to put their trash in the proper place? I spent a day in Denver last week and I don't think I saw one spec of litter along a road. Come home to scenic Charlotte, NC and litter is everywhere. What a fucking shit hole, it's like driving through a landfill. Am I the only one that notices this crap? I wonder if a litter law has ever been enforced around here. The cops are so preoccupied with their "Click it or Ticket" bullshit, along with their speed traps and roadblocks that I'm convinced you could drive a box truck down the highway, pushing a refrigerator out the back every half mile and they wouldn't care. They must not care or there wouldn't be shit along the roads everywhere you look. They may be the ones littering for all I know. Tell you what fellas, take a tip from the book "The Tipping Point" and enforce the seemingly less important laws and people will think twice about breaking the more serious laws.

People that litter are complete rock-bottom degenerate inbred hicks. That's just my humble opinion, but I'm quite sure I'm right. I suspect that they're the kind of people you see on the news from time to time, living in squalor, up to their knees in shit and carcasses because they don't realize you're not supposed to have more dogs and cats than the local Humane Society. Toothless, brainless, inconsiderate jackasses. Yes, you're right, I do dislike the vast majority of people, but there's a special place on my shit list for people that think others should pick up after them in public. If you are a participant in this local pastime, fuck you, eat shit and die. Or just die, that works too. But hurry up and do it.

I tried taking some pics of the evidence when I went out to grab a bite earlier, but driving with one hand and taking pictures with the other didn't work out so well. You'll have to take my word for it, this town's a dump.

Next up: People whose fucking dogs bark all night and the neighbors who hate them.
Stay tuned.

Friday Afternoon

2005-07-22T14:28:00.000-04:00

It's 2:30 on a Friday afternoon and the weekend is so close I can smell its musty, exotic aroma. It's calling to me but it's just out of reach.
I know from past experience that I'm 2 1/2 hours away from a magnitude 8.2 emergency on the imaginary emergency scale. I don't understand why, but there are a good number of people that seem to save up crap all week long so that they can spring it on me between 4:45 and 5:00 on a Friday afternoon. It never fails.
No sense worrying about things you can't change, that's how people lose their marbles or get ulcers.

Anyway, I got nothing. I'm not pissed about anything in particular and nothing exciting or noteworthy's happened in the last couple days. However, the word 'exotic' reminded me of a funny story that I'd be happy to regale you with, since you asked nicely.

Way back when... shit... probably around 1987 I was in Thailand on vacation. It was a hell of an adventurous place to go, but I had a guide. My brother, who is in the jewelry business had been going there for years to buy rubies. He went often enough to learn the language, so we had no problem with getting around. For transportation we rented a couple small motorcycles.
On one of my nightly trips where I was running around up to no good, I had occasion to wait for someone on the street outside their house. I remember it like it was yesterday. I was in a neighborhood of single family homes. There was a full moon, a breeze was blowing and palm trees were swaying. The exotic sounds and smells were spectacular, it was almost overwhelming. I was so far away from home geographically, culturally, and mentally that it was like being on a different planet.
Then I heard a voice, like an angel singing. My god that girl sang more beautifully than anyone I'd heard before or since. I couldn't understand a word of what she sang, but it didn't matter. I looked around and saw that she's in a room on the 2nd story of the house next door, sitting in front of a mirror and brushing her hair. The houses there didn't have glass windows, just shutters that they'd prop up and the rooms would be open to the outside, so I had a front row seat. The lights in her room were subdued, maybe lit by candles but I couldn't tell. What I could tell was that she was about an 11 on a scale of 1 to 10.
This went on for about 10 minutes - The most beautiful girl I'd ever seen or heard, brushing her hair and unknowingly serenading me with what sounded like the kind of music you'd probably hear only in heaven, while surrounded by the other sights, sounds and smells of the tropics.
After 5 minutes I was madly in love, after 10 I thought my head would explode. It was obvious to me that we were meant for each other. I didn't matter that we didn't speak the same language, or that we had completely different backgrounds, or that we didn't have a single thing in common. It didn't matter that her parents would hate me, and mine would probably take exception. This was fate, it was meant to be. There was no other way to explain how I wound up there that night, 12,000 mile from home.

Then the singing stopped. She threw back her gorgeous long hair, got up and walked toward the window. She must see me! She's going to say something! Maybe she feels this sense of kismet too! I was this close to a lifetime of boundless joy, my heart was pounding like a brick in a clothes dryer.
She gets to the window, slowly leans out, puts a finger over one nostril and proceeds to blow a nosefull of snot out the window. Not into a kleenex or anything, just right from nose to air.
Yeah, maybe the cultural differences would be a bit too much to overcome.

Have a great weekend

Airport Fun

2005-07-19T09:27:00.000-04:00

You know how to have fun at the airport? Me neither. There is no way to have fun in an airport.
Everyone's so friggin serious. Serious and in a bad mood.
I spent the better part of yesterday at the airport. Five hours in the airport proper, and three and a half hours in the portable sauna they insisted on calling a "jet", sitting on the runway. It was so damn hot in there that the sauna attendant was walking up and down the aisle with a tray of paper towels soaked in ice water, handing them out. A nice thought, I give her an A for effort.
So we're sitting on the runway for 3 hours, and the sauna pilot finally gets clearance to head for Chicago. But now there's a problem: Not enough fuel. So back to the gate we merrily go, at which point an official sounding voice tells us that we'll be given some very important information in 4 minutes. Not 'a couple' minutes as you would expect to be told by someone who's buying themselves just enough time to run like hell, but exactly 4 minutes.
A half hour later we're told the flight crew has reached the FAA regulated maximum amount of time they're allowed to spend on duty, and a new crew will have to be found. Some folks are grumbling about this, saying we're tired but we're up for the challenge of sitting in a seat for a couple more hours, so they damn well should be too. I'm thinking that personally, I prefer a well-rested and alert flight crew. It's now 10:30 PM and I was supposed to land in Chicago 4 hours ago. At this point I'm ready to throw in the paper towel and go home, but they're still not letting us out of the sauna. A couple people are begging for food, threatening to go into diabetic comas. The situation is deteriorating rapidly.
That's when the announcement is made that this flight is canceled, everyone out.
There's one more flight to Chicago, at 11:30, but they're going to assign seats to old folks and women traveling with children first. After standing in line for a half hour, the gate attendant had assisted exactly one person, and was working on the second. There were about 40 people in line in front of me. At that rate I'd still be there at noon today so I cut my losses and headed home.
When I got there my wife wanted to know what I was doing walking around in public with shredded paper towel all over my face. Great.

Next week: Denver. I can hardly wait.

Charitable Donations

2005-07-15T08:51:00.000-04:00

I don't know what it is with charities these days, but I get hounded regularly for donations. In the mail, at my front door, when walking into a grocery store, etc, etc. It never ends.
I know many of these are worthy causes, but in a lot of cases, I just don't give a shit about them. Not enough to give them my money at any rate. One thing I've learned (it happens on occasion, despite my best efforts to avoid it) is NEVER donate to anything unless it can be done annonymously. If they can track you down, they will pester you till your dying day. If you send a charity a check for $50, I guarantee that over the course of the next 12 months they will spend $75 on stamps mailing you additional solicitations for more money. No wonder they need money, they're idiots. I say take the money and run, move on, hound someone else. You've already scored here, it's unlikely to happen again. I sent you money, I feel good about it. If I send more, I'm going to fell like an idiot and that's not going to happen.

So, with the poor spending habits of many charities in mind, and with the knowledge that I also can be a worthy cause, I'm announcing that I will donate unlimited amounts of money to any worthy and legal cause. For a small handling fee not to exceed 200% of the donation.

For $100, I will donate $50 to your cause.
For $1000, I will donate $500.
There's no limit to my generosity. The deeper you dig the more you'll get in return.

Just send me a bank or cashier's check, drawn on a US bank, and you'll receive a generous donation within a week. Nigerian scam artists need not apply.

If this pans out, drinks are on me.

Why Didn't I Think of That?

2005-07-13T10:09:00.000-04:00

Damn. It's happened again. Someone stole my idea.
Well, not really. I didn't actually have this particular idea... yet. But given enough time and liquor I surely would have had it eventually, considering my shitty attitude. So I guess it wouldn't be completely innacurate to say it was pre-emptively stolen.

Have you ever seen the products at Despair, Inc ? I have no affiliation with these imaginative folks, other than getting a huge kick out of their products. If you work in, have ever worked in, or probably just walked through the office of a large corporation, you'll get a kick out of them too. What they make are spoofs of those incredibly condescending motivational posters you see hanging on the wall of just about every company in the US. You know, like the one titled 'Teamwork' with the picture of the rowing team. Give me a break.

Here's a sample of their work:

Yes I know, it's too small (If I had a buck for every time I heard that...). Thanks again Image Shack. Under the title it says "If a pretty poster and a cute saying are all it takes to motivate you, you probably have a very easy job. The kind robots will be doing soon"

To see more of their stuff, click on this link Despair, Inc then check out the links under 'Individual Designs'. If you replaced the one hanging in the office with one of these, I wonder how long it would take the boss to notice. Have fun.

By the way, anyone have any suggestions on image hosting that doesn't require loading any additional software on my machine? Image Shack leaves a lot to be desired.

Smoke em if you got em.

Flying

2005-07-11T08:52:00.000-04:00

Man, I am so damn lazy. No post for a week and a half. Maybe not so much lazy as busy. Yeah, that's it, I've been busy. I forget exactly why, but it's been taking up a lot of time. Work, I think - I've been swamped with trying to fix the imaginary problems that people seem to tirelessly manufacture around here. It's like a slow news day at the National Enquirer: When things get quiet people make up problems the way they make up news. And they're so creative about it. The other day it was a tax problem. WTF do I know about tax law? I have an engineering degree, and it's just an associate degree at that. Never had an accounting class, never even balanced a checkbook, and these people think I have some magical insight into something as cryptic as corporate tax laws. Schmucks.

Last Wednesday I had to go up to MA, to take a customer out for a round of golf. Not a bad gig. Getting there was a breeze. Managed to use an upgrade to weasel into first class, had a few cocktails, plenty of legroom, and a minimum of riff raff. I arrived well-rested and pleasantly buzzed. Take the courtesy bus to Hertz and I see my name over one of their 'prestige collection' cars - A Mustang GT. A cramped little thing, but this trip's turning out pretty good so far. Managed to get out of Boston and out to Westborough without making any wrong turns. Got up Thursday, played golf poorly but had a fun and productive time. Drove on back to the airport afterwards, and that's where the slide into the black hole of travel hell begins.

I had a 7:00 flight back to Charlotte but it was only 4:00. I managed to get on an earlier flight without being skewered for the $100 they like to charge for a minor change. That's usually a good sign, but there were no first class seats left, so no upgrade. I'm not superstitious but one thing I've learned is that when it comes to business travel, there is no such thing as one small problem. There is a limitless number of problems in ever-increasing size and complexity, and it all starts with the first seemingly small glitch. That glitch was a 15 minute delay.

First comes the 15 minute delay, then the 30 minute delay, then the need to vacate the gate. So we have to get on the plane and sit on the runway for an hour. Of course when I was in first class the day before, with the opportunity to swill free liquor, there were no delays, everything went like clockwork. Now I'm jammed into a seat that's too small for an infant, it's hot as hell, and someone in the vicinity is a complete stranger to soap and water. Every seat has someone in it. Luckily the guy next to me is the size of a leprechaun, so that was one bright spot.

The last guy to get on the plane looked like Fat Bastard, except he was a bit shorter and a whole lot fatter. I felt like hugging my leprechaun for taking up the seat next to me. Fat Bastard was a dick to boot, starting shit with the flight attendant because someone was in his seat. I don't know how much traveling you do, but giving a flight attendant a hard time is a terribly bad idea. They have a considerable amount of authority and can seriously fuck you up. I have a friend whose wife is a flight attendant, so he knows the rules. He spent last Thanksgiving in a cell at O'Hare being 'interviewed' by the FBI. His crime was to be seated next to a guy that gave the flight attendant a ration of shit. He didn't know that guy, but when they got off the plane the cops dragged off everyone in the row and locked em up. So the moral of the story is that when it comes to flight attendants, smile, nod, say please and thank you, and leave it at that. Everyone on the plane, including the flight attendants, is miserable and wants to be somewhere else, not just you.

Getting back to the story, Fat Bastard is making sure everyone knows just how inconvenienced he has been this evening. After his tantrum the flight attendant more or less tells him to either sit down in an empty seat and shut up, or get escorted off the plane. He follows her advice (after requesting a seat belt extender) and the remainder of the flight is uneventful, except for the fact that my earlier flight ends up leaving 30 minutes after my originally scheduled later flight. But they can't control the weather so it is what it is.

Uneventful until we land and pull up to the gate. I'm standing in the aisle with one small bag, right behind Fat Bastard, who's carrying all his earthly posessions, in addition to a backpack. Lining up in the aisle to get off a plane is the apex of the air travel cattle car experience. And this fat jerkoff puts his backpack on. There isn't room to inhale and this jackass feels the need to wear a backpack. Unbelievable.

Then he starts manuvering for room, which involves backing up and smashing me and everyone behind me. He found my limit. "Excuse me, is it really necessary for you to wear a backpack in a crowded plane and jam it into everyone behind you?" He says "Oh, I guess I just had to put this on, didn't I?" I'm wondering what the fuck does that mean? So I said "No, I don't think you did you inconsiderate jackass" I thought it was gonna be go time, which would have been costly in terms of time and the cost of legal representation. Then everyone within earshot starts calling the guy a jerkoff and an asshole, so I wasn't just imagining his asshole-ness. He thought better of continuing the conversation and turned around and stopped pushing. The rest of the evening proceeded without incident.

Which brings me to My Air Travel Tips for the Unwashed Masses:

Travel light. Don't try to carry your cello on the plane, there isn't room for it. When you check in, they will gladly take your luggage and give it back to you when you get where you're going. Unless you have a very small overnight bag, check your luggage. Don't be a dick.
Get to your seat, sit down, shut up, and keep your arm off my armrest. Unless you are a hot babe, don't talk to me.
Wear long pants, again, unless you are a hot babe. I don't care if you're on your way to a malaria-infested equatorial swamp, I don't want your hairy leg touching me. You're gross and it gives me the creeps.
Don't carry things on your shoulder when you walk down the aisle. You're hitting everyone you pass in the head with your fucking bag, you idiot.
Don't crowd the boarding area if they haven't called your row. It's not your turn until they call you. Seems simple, but apparently difficult for many to comprehend. If they haven't called you, get the fuck out of the way. If all goes as planned, the entire plane will arrive at the destination at the same time. You aren't going to get there any sooner because you got on before your row was called.
Never, ever, under any fucking circumstance whatsoever should you recline your seat. Ever. I don't know why seats even recline on anything shorter than a trans-oceanic flight. It's already as claustrophobic as hell, don't make it worse. I'm at the point where I'm going to start carrying a garrotte to choke the living shit out of the inconsiderate fucks that recline their seats. If I look down and see your head in my chest I'm going to cough, sneeze, belch and fart until you go away and give me back my painfully small amount of legroom. I don't even have to look down to know you're there since you will have just crushed both my knees. That scream you heard as your seat went back was me. Do us both a favor and sit up straight like your mother taught you.
If you're sick, stay the hell home.
If you're not in a hurry, just walk to your destination, stay away from the airport. Everyone else there except you and your companions is in a big hurry. If you and your slow friends absolutely insist on going to the airport, walk in a line, not a row.
When at baggage claim, keep your snot-nosed kids away from the belt. There's no room for them, they wouldn't recognize your bag if it fell on their heads, and they couldn't pick it up if they did. They have no business being there. Move em out, make room for people that have a legimitate reason for being there.
If you see me in an airport bar and don't buy me a drink, then the terrorists have won.

If we all make a concerted effort to pull together and follow these 10 simple rules, my trips will be much more tolerable, and may even border on pleasant. I don't think that's too much to ask.

Drink up men, could be your last.

OK, Coffee Break's Over

2005-06-30T16:38:00.000-04:00

Man have I been swamped at work lately. I've had to go AWOL from blogging for a bit. If I can't get it done during the day it ain't gonna happen. I stare at this display for at least 10 hours a day, and I sure as hell ain't gonna stare at it afterwards. By then my eyes are going out of focus and I can barely read the labels on the liquor bottles. When I'm trying to make a drink after work, not during. It's not that bad yet.
So "what's new?" you ask.
I'll tell ya: Goddam do I work with a bunch of pricks. A few hundred thousand of em at last count. You get a little inspiration and try and get something done and the fuckwad Business Prevention Specialists call in reinforcements to make sure that doesn't happen. Very frustrating. It quickly escalates into a grown-up version of 'who's big brother is bigger'. That's an essential word around here: "escalate". Can't hear that one too many times when you're trying to accomplish something. I'm gonna escalate. I'm escalating you. They're escalating him. Escalate. Escalating. Escalated. FUCK. ENOUGH. Gimme the days of clubs, maces, battleaxes, even fucking baseball bats. Then I'll show you some friggin escalations.
That's one pet peeve. Corporate-speak is another one that makes my flesh crawl:
"Our direction is to leverage our core competencies to deliver value-added solutions to our clients, freeing them to focus on organic growth and identification of other synergies"
WTF did you say?
"We're gonna do what we know how to do, for the people that pay us to do it"
In other words, 'Shut up and row, right?'
"Yeah, that's pretty much it"
Thought so.

I'm not exagerating when I tell you that I get notes, memos, releases, etc, that I read over and over and still have no idea what the hell the writer is trying to say. People that write like that need a big rock dropped on their heads. Or at least a remedial english class or two.
You know, if you got something to say just spit it the fuck out in plain english, so people will know what you're talking about. If you want to be understood, don't say it in corporate-speak or consultant-ese. Plain english: It's not just for news anchors anymore.

Big holiday weekend coming up. Supposed to be off tomorrow but I got more problems than George Bush has... problems.
Speaking of our self-exalted president, what is that oompa loompa looking SOB and his stone-faced cronies thinking? Last throes? How stupid do they think we are? Well I can understand them thinking you're not very bright, but I'm beginning to take offense. We hear "last throes" then 10 minutes later we hear "maybe as long as another decade" Which is it? Tomorrow or 10 years from now? I mean you're running a huge, powerful country. Surely you can guess better than that and narrow it down a bit for us.
Mark my words: This guy will go down in history as the WORST president of all time, bar none. That is assuming we survive 3 more years and there is a history to go down in.

Huh huh huh, I said 'go down'. I just got an invitation in the mail for a free membership to BJ's club which is one of those big box, members only discount stores. I'll have to take them up on their offer. What red-blooded male wouldn't jump on a chance to join BJ's club? Sounds like a winner to me, buy their stock.

That's all for now. Drink up men...

She Picked a Bad Week to Quit Sniffing Glue

2005-06-22T09:06:00.000-04:00

I'm not a fan of celebrity gossip, but when I was checking out CNN this morning, I just had to read the story of the FBI interview of the runaway bride. It's like a car wreck you can't take your eyes off. Thankfully I've never had a reason to suffer through one of those interviews myself. Judging by the pics it's a harrowing experience.
We've all seen the "before" picture, with those bugged out eyes but not too hard to look at. For some reason I can't get my image host to display it and I don't have time to fuck with it, so you'll have to work from memory.
During:

After:

Yeesh. Either makeup is worth every penny women spend on it, and then some, or she got worked over with rubber hoses.
I read in the article she had little money to run away, since her mother does all her banking. Let me get this straight - She's 32 and her mother does all her banking? I don't know about you, but if I was her fiance the cacophony of alarms going off in my head would be deafening. Something's wrong there. She can't handle money and she's probably going to burn through yours like a dot com, so you'd better have a lot if you marry this one.
While I'm on the subject, look out for women whose fathers call them "princess". 30 years of that and they're convinced they actually are princesses. Marry one of them and you'd better be prepared to kiss a lot of ass for a long, long time.

Drink up men...

The Longest Day

2005-06-21T09:16:00.000-04:00

Here we are at the summer solstice, the longest day of the year. Well it's the day with the most hours of daylight, all days are the same length. For those of us that work at home that's about 36 hours.
I haven't posted lately, nothing noteworthy to report. I am after all, in a rut. I need a vacation, or at least to get out more. I need some excitement. Yesterday I went to the grocery store and bought a loaf of rye bread, but the thrill of that wore off pretty quickly.

What both the wife and I need are more friends. We can count our friends on one hand, and don't get to see them very often. We have plenty of acquaintances and naturally every time we run into them we talk about getting together, but it doesn't happen.
Once you get over 40, it's pretty damn hard to make new friends, particularly if you're not a churchgoer. In the south, church is the social glue that holds the crazies together. Invariably when you meet someone, the first thing they ask you is what church do you attend. When I first moved here from NJ, I thought it was incredibly ballsy of people to ask that question. But it's how they make a quick judgment, based on the affluence of your church. If you tell them you wouldn't set foot in a frigging church, I assume they write you off as a devil worshipper, fornicator, and possibly a cannibal. Or worst case: A yankee recovering catholic, which would be accurate in my case. But that's fine with me, the hypocrisy and closed-mindedness of holy rollers is more than I can take.
The vast majority of these people don't believe in evolution, which strikes me as just plain fucking crazy. They're firm believers in 'creation science', which really isn't any kind of science at all. Since the fight to have this creation science crap taught in public schools isn't panning out for them, they've renamed it 'intelligent design', or as it's more commonly known 'thinly veiled religious propaganda bullshit'. But by any name it's just a pseudo-intellectual, right-wing christian fundamentalist way of closing your eyes, sticking your fingers in your ears and saying "I can't hear you, I can't hear you, la la la la la". In my mind that is the ultimate expression of faith: "Not only do I firmly believe in something that can't be proven, I am convinced that something that can be proven isn't true at all." They justify this misguided disbelief by saying evolution is just a theory, but as any educated person knows, doing so is confusing the definition of the word 'theory'. Let me make a suggestion: If you're one of these people, stick your tongue in a light socket, then tell me your thoughts on electrical theory. Is it just speculation, or can you generally accept it as fact?

I'm normally an open-minded, live-and-let-live kind of guy. I don't care what you think, what color you are, what you screw, who or what you eat, which invisible man in the sky you think is running the show, or which nascar driver you pray to. But what frosts my balls about christian fundamentalists is that they're convinced that they are so right, that it is imperative that you think and do as they say, since they know what's best for you and your eternal soul. The thought that someone is thinking and acting independently and possibly having fun doing it keeps them up at night. And they can't stand that. In my opinion, that seriously goes against the ideals this country was founded on. And just our luck, we got one in the friggin White House. More than one in fact. Don't get me started on that topic.

So to net it out, I don't fit in and don't have many friends. I feel bad for the wife though. She was one of them when we met but I've brow-beaten her with endless discovery channel and National Geographic documentaries and logic. Now she doesn't fit in either. But she doesn't fit in on her home turf, she has nowhere to run. I can go back to NJ and fit in fine. Of course with the price of housing there I'd be living under the Seaside Heights boardwalk, but I'd more or less fit in, and it's waterfront property.

Drink up men, it could be your last.

Hot Hot Hot

2005-06-15T14:13:00.000-04:00

Holy crap it's hot today. It's hotter than... than... something that's really hot. The thermometer on the wall says it's 85 in here. If I wasn't such a cheap bastard I'd turn down the thermostat. Creative juices drying up... Can't think...

The Bouncer Bandwagon

2005-06-14T08:53:00.000-04:00

Since I enjoy reading Clublife so much, I'm going to jump on the bouncer bandwagon and tell you my one bouncer story. OK, not really a bouncer story, more of a not-so-badass busboy story:

In 1976 I was 17 years old, had just graduated high school and was attending Lincoln Technical Institute (overpriced trade school), learning how to install and service A/C and refrigeration units. At night I worked as a busboy at a place called the Crazy Horse Saloon in Barrington, NJ. Being under 18, I couldn't serve drinks so busboy or dishwasher were my only choices. I had been washing dishes till 3:00 AM at a restaurant in Seaside Park for the last 2 years, and getting up at 6:00 for school. I'd seen enough of that side of the restaurant business so I chose the busboy route. As a side note, is there a town in the U.S. that doesn't have a Crazy Horse Saloon? Are horses really that prone to craziness? What exactly does an equine have to do to earn that moniker? One would think horses have been domesticated for quite a few generations, and the nuttiness would have been bred out of them by now. Apparently not. But I'm getting off on a tangent here...

The establishment was a pretty nice bar/restaurant affair - Live band, dancing, nice atmosphere, good food. At some point in the evening, these two couples come in. The guys are absolutely freakin immense, two of the biggest guys I'd ever seen. It turns out they're two of the Philadelphia Flyers. I wasn't a hockey fan and wouldn't have known who they were if someone hadn't told me. All I knew was that I was going to stay out of their way. One of them had scored his 500th goal that night, so they took their SOs out to celebrate.

And celebrate they did, with the gusto you'd expect of people in their position and financial situation. They proceeded to get hammered.

The restaurant was handing out promotional items that evening - Frisbees emblazoned with the name of the restaurant. Like most ideas gone bad, I'm sure it seemed brilliant at the time. However, if you're drinking, how long can you look at a frisbee sitting on the table in front of you before the urge to throw it becomes overwhelming? But I give them credit for going with the frisbees, and not pepper spray or stun guns.

Somewhere along the way one of the SOs grabs a frisbee and flings it across the restaurant. People are yippee yahoo-ing and having a good old time. On her second throw, the frisbee takes out about 3 dozen wine glasses that were hanging upside-down over the bar. Broken glass flew everywhere.

The manager of the place comes running over to me and says "You're the biggest guy here, you need to throw them out, NOW". "Pardon me?" I queried. "If you don't go over to that table right now and throw those people out, you're fired."

I've done some unbelievably stupid things in my life, but I'm glad to say that wasn't one of them. Me, a 17 year old trade school schmuck / busboy, is going to forcibly remove two huge, drunken professional hockey players, people that knock teeth out for fun, from a bar? I don't think so, not on my best day. I was familiar enough with Darwin's theories to know what happens to the less fit, and these guys were the fittest, hands down. Their wives probably could have kicked my ass. So I handed the manager my official busboy apron and advised him to have fun.

It was an anti-climactic and sudden end to a lackluster busboy career, but I'm still here to talk about it. I don't think that would be the case had I followed the manager's urging. The timing was unfortunate though, I think I had a shot at the hostess.

Drink up men, it could be your last.

Television

2005-06-10T09:25:00.000-04:00

You know, it's struck me recently that it isn't worth the (admittedly minimal) effort required to follow a TV series. Every time I get interested in a show to the point that I'll look forward to seeing it next week, it gets canceled. It either gets canceled or goes on some wacky Hollywood hiatus, a la Sopranos.
I'm no entertainment industry bigwig, and know nothing of what goes on behind the curtain, but it seems to me that what this industry would want is a regular viewership. Repeats and cancellations fly in the face of that logic. Some of my favorites that have disappeared:

Trailer Park Boys This was on BBC America Thursday nights and mysteriously disappeared without explanation. You ever seen this one? It was freaking hilarious. It covered the exploits of two redneck nut cases living in a trailer park in Nova Scotia. Who'd'a thunk it? Rednecks, in a trailer park, in Nova Scotia. I've been to Nova Scotia twice and never saw a trailer park, but apparently they got em there too. Gone, just gone. Very frustrating.

TV Funhouse This was on Comedy Central and skipped around to different days and times before disappearing altogether. Following it was beginning to require effort, there was no telling when it would be on. This show was about the adventures of a guy and a bunch of animal puppets and it was really off the wall. When I first saw it I couldn't believe it was even on TV. There were these puppets, a dog, turtle and chicken to be exact, in a Tiajuana whorehouse, humping real animals dressed like hookers. I laughed so hard I thought I'd shit myself. But alas, it's gone. I'll have to make do with Masterpiece Theater.

The Sopranos Not technically gone, more like MIA. One of the best TV shows ever in my opinion, with the exception of the episodes directed by Quentin Tarantino. They got a bit weird. But come on, I have the attention span of a gnat, do they really think I'll give a shit about the show after they've been on vacation for 2 years? WTF is up with that?
Carnivale I didn't care much for this one at first, but my wife loved it so I was strongly urged to watch, us having only one TV in the house. (Although I did this willingly, I never once gave up possession of the remote, so do not attempt to revoke my man card.) Eventually I got hooked, and right when things come to a head, they cancel it. Jackasses. Between the Sopranos disappearance and the Carnivale cancellation, HBO is quickly becoming an also-ran. And they show the same tired old movies, over and over. But I'm paying for the privilege, so who's the jackass?

If any network or cable execs happen to stumble across this, let me give you a word of advice: Stop sucking. And lighten up on the unfuckingbelievable number of commercials. If you don't I'm liable to do something drastic, like read a book.

Drink up men...

I Must Be Getting Old

2005-06-09T09:48:00.000-04:00

I believe it's a sure sign of increasing age when you look at the fashions and customs of the younger crowd and think "WTF?". Some of the shit they do really makes me wonder. A couple examples:

Ink: What possesses a hot young babe to have some huge tribal flame design tattooed across her lower back? I'm not a fan of tattoos in general, and the current fad of billboard-sized tattoos proudly displayed on girls' backs has me baffled. I suspect it's driven by the urge to be different but at this point they're de rigeur, and look ridiculous to boot. A small, inconspicuous tattoo is tolerable, but a whopper? Yeesh, take a hike. Really darling, if you want to impress the men in your life have a flat-screen TV implanted there, and a coaster while you're at it.

Ink II: Any neck tattoo: WTF is going on there? What do these guys do for a living? What decent job can you possibly land with a tattoo on your neck? I don't even want to buy a used car from a guy with a tattoo on his neck. I'm sure it's the rebel bad boy image they're trying to portray, and it works like a charm for both the image and resulting lifestyle. Once you get one of these your options in life will be severely limited: Either self employment in a limited number of fields, or some sort of criminal enterprise. Even if you choose the criminal path it has to be a handicap. Sure your esteemed colleagues will be impressed, but it'll be a cinch to pick you out in a lineup. My advice: If you're considering a tattoo on your neck, shave your vacuous head and have that tattooed instead. That way, should you ever decide to re-enter society you can let your hair grow back and your huge mistake will be your little secret.

Facial piercings: I'm sure a barbell through your nose seemed like a positively stellar idea at the time, but right now you look like a caveman trying to be stylish (or cave woman as the case may be). Eyebrows? Chin? Tongue? "You're fuckin nuts" is all I can say about that. Even a tiny little diamond on the side of the nose is hideous. How do you get the back on that little earring, and what happens when you get a cold? I've only ever see one girl pull this one off but she was hot to the Nth degree, and the nauseating nose earring only lowered her to 'really hot' status.

Shorts and sandals in the middle of winter: Check out a map, Ken. This ain't Malibu. You're a big boy now, try to dress like one: Put some fucking grown up pants on. And I don't mean -

Plumber's crack pants: This used to be the biggest freakin joke going, now they're hip. Homeless chic, go figure.

That'll do it in the bitching department for now. Drink up men, could be your last.

And the Hits Just Keep on Coming

2005-06-08T09:09:00.000-04:00

First, faithful reader, I must apologize for my lackluster blogging performance. My broadband has been uncooperative and I've had to dial in which makes everything painfully slow. Plus, deep down inside I'm basically a lazy slug. But I'm back at it today, so sound the trumpets.

This week has been composed mostly of letting 18 people know that they won't be getting a raise this year. Those conversations typically go one of two ways: People are glad to have a job and don't complain. Or, they go berserk and want to talk to the CEO, this ain't fair, you suck, your mother's ugly, your dog's queer, etc, etc. Most have followed the course of the former, a few the latter. Even some of the 1/3 that did get a raise complained about the amount. You can't please everyone, so I find it's best to set your sights on pleasing yourself. That's worked out well for me in the past.

Oddly enough, the boneheads that make it their mission to make my life miserable haven't noticed the very obvious trend of the permanent disappearances of their predecessors. When it comes time to swing the axe, I'm swinging it right at the heads of the people that make work for me. I don't care how good someone is at their job, everyone knows (or certainly should know) that shit flows downhill. You can push it uphill for a limited amount of time, but it doesn't go far uphill and eventually you will experience a severe avalanche. And you'll most likely be killed. Sayonara, jerkoff.
Being in a customer service business I tend to take a lot of crap from customers. I mean a lot. I once had a woman loudly call me an "insignificant peon" in the middle of a big office full of people. Wonder of wonders, she still didn't get her way. As a result of years of abuse, I have a low tolerance for taking crap from peers and coworkers. I haven't the slightest hint of tolerance for taking shit from people that work for me. If an employee has a problem and explains it to me in a civilized manner, I'll do everything I can to help. But call me up with an attitude that makes it look like your problem is my fault, even if it is my fault, and things aren't going to go your way. Points are awarded for tact and diplomacy, keep that in mind. If you can't finesse the boss, how can you finesse a customer? You suck, good bye.

It's a big day here in the rut-- today's my 23rd anniversary with the company. The Man sent an IM to congratulate me. That was nice of him. He's a good guy, but not particularly personable, 100% business. He knows everything about everything and remembers the most obscure shit forever. When dealing with him you had best recall every little thing you have ever said to him, because he sure does. Bullshitting him is not an option, do so at your own risk. I've witnessed the public performance appraisals that can result from an unsuccessful bullshit attempt and it's not pretty. But c'est la vie, sooner or later everyone gets their turn to experience first-hand the crushing blows.
23 years complete, 7 more years of solitary confinement to go before I'm eligible to retire. It sucks to wish your life away, and I'm not really anxious to retire. But I'd sure like to get some of those retirement benefits before they get around to screwing me out of them.

By the way, has anyone seen my pager?

Drink up men, it could be your last.

TFGIFF

2005-06-03T08:14:00.000-04:00

Yessiree, it's Friday. Before the fun can begin I'll need to spend another day shackled to this desk. Could be worse, this is a good day to be home. It's shitty out and I'm hung over thanks to bike night. If I did work in an office, this is one of those days I'd keep a low profile. Well hell, I gotta get out from time to time or I'll go freakin nuts. No bike ride last night since it was raining for like the 5th straight day. Had to take the family truckster. But that beats riding a bike in the rain, that hurts like hell. And it's just plain miserable, you can't see a shittin thing once your glasses fog up.

It was fun none the less. Saw a few friends, some exceptional eye candy (by Charlotte standards) and had a few (maybe a few dozen) 7&7s. The music sucked but that's no surprise. At any Harley-type get together, the music will suck. Last night they had a guy playing guitar and a woman singing. I think she fancied herself to be one of those modern country singers. Country music in general sucks to high heaven, there hasn't been a country musician worth a shit since Hank Williams. What they call 'new country' is just plain crap through and through. I mean, most of these 'musicians' don't even write their own material. WTF is up with that? The one bright spot was their 'new country' version of Blister In The Sun. OK, not exactly a bright spot, but one song that didn't cause an instant headache. As we all know, that particular song has been PLAYED TO DEATH. When I first heard it way back in 80-whatever it was pretty cool. Now it's quite tired, give it a rest. I would have preferred Violent Femmes' version of Children Of The Revolution, but that's neither here nor there.
It was however, a change of pace from the usual Lynyrd Skynyrd / 38 Special / Allman Brothers fare that permeates these events. If I was a generous, giving man, I'd get these people a calendar and suggest they pay special attention to the part that tells you what year it is currently. Hey, I used to like that stuff but that was a long, long time ago. Shit, I even saw Lynyrd Skynyrd at the Beacon Theater in NY many moons ago. I saw some dumbshit get struck by lightening after he climbed a telephone pole at an Allman Brothers concert in Atlantic City in 70-something. But that was then and this is now. There's been a lot of Ramones, Public Image, Dead Kennedys, Social Distortion, Cure and many others hardening my eardrums since then. Can you imagine listening to Lynyrd Skynyrd non-stop since they were new? FREE BIRD!!!! FREE BIRD!!! Talk about being stuck in a time warp. Anyway, enough of that.

The Mrs was looking exceptionally hot last night, but she pretty much always does. I really stepped in shit when I met her. When we met she was a church-going, bible-reading, tee-totaling, naive, squeaky clean young lady. Shit, she even ran a church youth program! Now I am quite proud to say I've dragged her down to my level. She hasn't been to church in ages, can keep up with me in the drinking department, is skeptical of all the BS that we're bombarded with, and can curse like a drunken sailor. And the sex... OH.MY.GOD.
Unlike her 2 predecessors, who had absolutely no interest in sex once they said "I do", she shows no sign of slowing down, or any loss of imagination.

How'd we meet, you wonder. I put a personal ad on Match.com. Hey when you work from home your options are pretty limited. Unless the cable guy turns out to be a hot babe, you're pretty much stuck with bar flies and gutter sluts. But that whole personal ad thing was a trip. It's amazing what people think of themselves. Women that describe themselves as having an average build can be the size of a barn. And women around here tend to have a trailer full of kids by the time they're 23, so the pickings are slim. Man did I ever step in shit.

That's all for now. Drink up men, it could be your last.

The Perfect Work Week

2005-06-02T09:26:00.000-04:00

This week is the Perfect Work Week - 3 days of work, 4 days of not-work. This is the way it should always be. Well 7 days of not-work would be even better, especially if you still got paid, but then it wouldn't be a work week, now would it? I think it 's the kind of life those lazy fuckers in other countries live every week. I deal with folks all over the world, and if you ever call them and they answer the phone, go buy a lottery ticket cuz it's your lucky day. Not a North Carolina lottery ticket since there is no lottery here. That'd be positively sinful, but that's another matter altogether.
But those bastards elsewhere are a trip. They have more holidays than Paris Hilton has venereal warts. They're either off work, getting ready to 'go on holiday', or just back from 3 weeks off. So they're either not there, too preoccupied with their upcoming vacation to do anything, or too busy not catching up to do anything. Japan is a notable exception. They work long hard hours, 6 days a week, but they rarely if ever accomplish anything. They'll YES you to death, very polite they are. But they never actually do what you've asked, because they don't agree with doing it in the first place. They won't say that though, they're far too polite. They say "Sure, we'll do that" and then they don't, leaving you swinging in the breeze. And of course you've had to get up at 3:00 AM on a Sunday to hear them say they'll do something, since godforfuckingbid they get on a call outside their normal work hours.
Europe's the same way: Working hours are sacrosanct, and if you want to talk to them it'll be at their convenience, not yours. Are we the only country in the world that can set a clock properly? If everyone would set their clocks the same as us it would make things a lot easier. Easier for me at any rate, and that's what counts. Of course nothing would get done just the same, but at least I wouldn't be listening to these heart-wrenching sob stories about extended holidays in the middle of the night.

But anyway, what a great long weekend. And so far the short work week's been tolerable. Of course that's subject to change at the ring of a phone but so far, so good.

And now for something completely different: What possesses someone to call their boss and ask a question they should already know the answer to? I don't mean a deep technical or process related question, I mean something along the lines of a basic application usage question. I just had an employee ask a couple very basic things about calendar usage. Now I know why the schmuck missed my last meeting. If you call me with a question like that I'll answer your question, but all the while I'm thinking "Holy shit. I can't believe you don't know that, nor can I believe you are stupid enough to let me know that you don't know that. You, my friend, are hereby crowned King of the Dumbasses." As we've all been told - There are no stupid questions (I don't whole heartedly buy into that line of crap). There is however, a crushing overabundance of incredibly stupid people who insist on asking inappropriate questions of inappropriate people at inapproriate times. If you don't know something that you even remotely suspect you should know, ask a coworker. It's far better to have your coworkers think that a head of cabbage could beat you on Jeopardy than it is to have your boss know you are as dumb as a box of rocks.

That's it for now. Later.

Yee Freakin Ha!

2005-05-27T08:05:00.000-04:00

Take 2 vacation days, add a weekend and a holiday, and what do you get? Five days off in a row. As Cartman would say... SWEET! I would dance if I could but I can't do the moonwalk, and I sure as hell can't do the 'boneless spastic gyration' like on the iPod commercials. Is it unflattering for a 6'4" 230lb 47 year old guy to skip? Well fuck it, s'cuse me while I skip anyway.... ZIPPITY DOO DAH, ZIPPITY AYYYY, MY OH MY WE'RE GONNA ROLL IN THE HAAAAYYYYY!! Ok, that's better.
Been bustin my hump for the better part of a week... The man's been keepin me down. But now I'm going to cast off the yoke of corporate oppression and enjoy some down time. As long as my cell phone doesn't ring and pager doesn't go off, that is. But at least I won't have my laptop and INSTANT MESSAGING. Instant messaging gives working from home the feeling of being under house arrest. Like you have one of those transmitters on your ankle. If someone sends you a message you damn well better answer it toute suite, especially if it's THE MAN. And unless you're traveling, you damn well better be signed on.
Unlike the serial nature of emails, phone conversations and phone messages, there is a virtually unlimited number of instant messages that you can respond to at the same time, even if you just say "gimme a few minutes, on phone".
So by it's very nature, instant messaging demands an instant reply. It puts a real damper on goofing off, which I suppose is one of its objectives.
But having 28 people spread all over the country that report to me, and actually being THE MAN to a bunch of people, I find instant messaging to be a priceless asset to aid me in pulling the rug out from under employees when they least expect it. Keeping them off-balance, confused and disgruntled. It's good to be king. When someone misbehaves and doesn't answer a message in a reasonable amount of time, they must be punished and I get to do the old "Do you see this huge, steaming pile of shit over here? Well I think we'd all be much better off if it was waaaayyy over there. Now get to work."
But sadly there is an emperor above me, and several semi-gods above him, so it's not uncommon for my rug to get pulled and my chain yanked. It's the circle of life - an immense daisy chain of people pulling the rug out from under the person next to them. Sort of the corporate equivalent of 'The Wave' commonly seen at sporting events. Now that makes a great picture in my head: A huge stadium full of people, and instead of doing the wave, they're falling down in wave-like fashion, getting up, dusting themselves off, wondering what just happened. And when this anti-wave gets back to where it started, it just keeps on going. Round and round. Yep, that's life in a big corporation.

Well as I've said in previous posts, I'm getting out of Dodge until Tuesday. But first I need to go to the Sprint store and exchange the wife's piece of shit cell phone (never get an LG phone). That place is as bad as DMV: Long lines, mob scene, shitty service, rude people. But it's not the employees fault, they're highly productive by virtue of there only being two of them.

At any rate, I need to get out of here before THE MAN calls and says "Do you see this huge, steaming pile of shit over here? ..."

But give some thought to what Memorial Day is about. A lot of people made huge sacrifices to keep the founding fathers' dream alive. Try not to think about the fact that our president has nothing but contempt for the vast majority of our country's citizens.

Like they say in the old war movies: Drink up men, it could be your last.
And the ever-popular: Smoke em if you got em.

Later

Drawing a Blank

2005-05-26T13:55:00.000-04:00

Only 4 posts and I'm drawing a blank. It's a good thing I don't write for a living, I'd be mighty hungry.
Just converse quietly amongst yourselves while I come up with something...
OK, got it.

Not much going on today. Work sucks as usual but that's why they call it "work". I heard a radio personality this morning talking about some survey that was taken, no idea who did it, but the gist of it was that 77% of the US population hate their jobs. I wasn't totally surprised although the percentage seemed high. You very rarely hear anyone talking about how much they love their jobs. On the rare occasions you do, it takes a hell of a dose of will power to not smack them into next week. When you do hear this type of idiotic drivel, it's usually from someone who just started a new job and hasn't yet realized the futility of their efforts. My wife loved her job, up until she spent last year working 60 hour weeks, single handedly did something very important that I think she probably told me about but I wasn't listening, did some other wonderful things that she also probably told me about, and got a 2% raise for her troubles. All while the company is raking in revenue like there's no tomorrow. Like I told a buddy of mine who works for the same company as me and was going off on a diatribe about how he's unappreciated at work - Once you give up and accept the fact that nothing you do makes any difference whatsoever, it's not a bad place to work.

Although I don't have first hand experience, I strongly suspect every huge multinational corporation is the same way.

Thought I'd go for a spin on the bike at lunch... dead battery. Figures. So I drove to the local Harley dealer for a new one. There's another $82 gone, but at least I can head to the local watering hole later for bike night, assuming I can get through the traffic.

Traffic's an absolute mess with the race in town. Imbeciles on parade everywhere you go. I just wish they didn't have to parade on public thoroughfares.

I was at a race party thrown by an old friend last weekend. Don't know how I wound up there, but there I was. He mentioned the apparent lack of evolutionary participation undertaken by your average fan. I said when you're at the race next week and in that mob scene, look around and say to yourself "I am one of them". Last I heard he was looking for a new sport to follow.

Well that's it for me, back to the salt mines. When you're out driving in that nasty holiday weekend traffic, remember: The faster you drive, the less time you're on those dangerous roads.

What a Day

2005-05-25T08:22:00.000-04:00

WOW is it nice out! The forecast is for sunny skies and a high of 70. That's positively frigid for this time of year. It's much too nice a day for bile spewing, although it is early so it's hard to say what the day may bring.

Weird night last night. Woke up around 2:30, thought I smelled an electrical fire. That weird caustic electric chemical smell. Sat bolt upright, sniffing the air. Took a walk around, everything looked fine, went back to bed. Couldn't get back to sleep. Suspected something was wrong and a watch needed to be posted.

Me: Sweetie Pie?...

Me: Hon?...

Me: HON!!!!!

Her: WHAT??? WHAT??? WHAT'S THE MATTER???!!!

Me: You smell that?

Her: OH! You're gross, I can't believe you woke me up for that.

Me: No, not that. Fire. Smells like an electrical fire.

Her: HOLY SHIT!!! WHERE???

Me: I dunno, everything looks OK but I'm worried. Electrical fires are sneaky, they can smolder in walls for hours before the whole place goes up.

Her: I don't smell anything.

Me: That doesn't mean the house isn't about to burst into flames.

Mission accomplished, watch posted. I woke up to the alarm clock at 6:30. She's sitting there looking pretty tired, but she made it to work on time.

Let me leave you with a word of advice: If you ever happen to get a massage from the female tug-of-war world champion, DO NOT accept her offer of a happy ending.

Later

The Long Holiday Weekend

2005-05-24T15:43:00.000-04:00

Man, I just love long weekends, don't you?

OK, enough pleasantries. I'll tell you something that's stuck in my craw lately: The average person's normal work week. Do you know anyone that works less than 50 hours per week? Me neither. I don't know how some people survive with all the hours they work - 60, 70, 80. The sky's the limit. Or more correct, the ground's the limit. When you're 6 feet under you've successfully found your limit. You don't hear much about it but people actually died fighting for the 40 hour work week. Lots of em. All over the place. A whole slew of em right down the road from me in Gastonia, back in the late 20s. In the good ole US of A. Go figure. Read all about it. I'm not making this up.

As time went by we slowly but surely got fucked right out of our leisure time, and we stood there like a bunch of sheep and did nothing. Well we didn't do nothing, we were too busy working and too tired afterwards to do anything about it.

The thing that really pisses me off is that while we were busting our asses, our jobs were being moved overseas. Thankfully I have one of those high tech jobs that are going to carry us through the 21st century, so I'm safe. But if I were you I'd keep an eye over my shoulder.

Another major annoyance is productivity measurements in general. I know this sort of thing has to be measured but I think it's carried to extremes. A rough definition of productivity is 'revenue per employee'. We've pretty much exhausted getting any more huge leaps in productivity through technological advances so there's only one more avenue to pursue: Get rid of people and dump the work on the poor slobs that are left. The result is the 50 to 80 hour work week.
If you watch any financial news and hear someone expounding the benefits of productivity gains, remember how they get them. It's an innocuous phrase, the corporate equivalent of the Bush administration referring to global warming as 'climate change'. When the glaciers and ice caps melt and the coasts are under water, they'll probably call it a "hydrological surplus". Be skeptical, read between the lines.

While I'm on a roll I might as well mention pension funds. I know hardly anyone has them anymore, most people have been screwed out of them already. What I want to know is how in the hell is it possible -- no, LEGAL-- How in the hell is it legal for a company like United Airlines to dump their pension fund? This just shouldn't happen, there's no way on earth that this should be possible without a whole shitload of people going to prison. They still own planes, they have plenty of assets. Put em on the auction block, put the money in the pension fund. Make the corporate execs shovel shit to earn money to replenish the fund. Fuck em, they're bankrupt, what's the difference.

The Bush administration has seen fit to change personal bankruptcy laws so that a bankrupt person will never get out from under credit card debt. But if you're a huge corporation, you can bankrupt thousands of employees and still walk away with all your toys? Jesusfuckingchristonastick. I don't buy it and you shouldn't either.

I really worry about this country. We are setting ourselves up to have a whole generation of people living under bridges and roasting rats over a fire. It's a good thing most geese don't migrate anymore and tend to move pretty slow. At least the holidays will still be special.

If it wasn't for the long weekend coming up I'd really be pissed about these things.

The Circus Comes to Town

2005-05-20T09:04:00.000-04:00

No, not Ringling Brothers... NASCAR. It's race week here in Charlotte and the redneck convention is gaining steam. They're rolling the converted school busses and trailers into town like it's the promised land. Traffic sucks, restaurants are packed, beer cans are piling up on the sides of the road, what a mess. Yep, we're a world-class city alright... Third world, hold the class.

What the hell was I thinking when I bought this house? I should have realized it was too close to the speedway for comfort. A couple years ago it wasn't too awful, but since then there seems to have been some sort of war declared on trees. They've cut down most of the trees between my house and the speedway, and man it's fucking loud now. All week. From 8:00 AM to 11:00 PM. Why do they need to start in with the racket at 8:00 AM on a Sunday? I have a Harley that'll set off car alarms a block away, but I know enough not to start it at 8:00 Sunday morning. The hungover campers in the speedway parking lot must really love it.

Speaking of camping - What possesses someone to want to camp for a week in a dusty or muddy parking lot (it's going to be one or the other), with litter up to your knees and the smell of urine permeating the air? Beats me, I don't see the attraction.

Maybe it's sour grapes to a degree. I used to go to races. Wife #2 worked in the business so we always got free tickets. But I never found it all that exciting. As loud as it was in the stands I still couldn't stay awake through a whole race. Although I did get to meet some celebrities, which was cool at the time. At different times she worked for Dale Earnhardt and Richard Petty. Richard is a real nice guy, Earnhardt's another story. He had a hard time keeping his hand off #2's ass. I'd just stare daggers at the guy when we were in the same room. What could I do, haul off and slug him? Living in Charlotte, slugging Dale Earnhardt would be like living in Tehran and insulting the Koran. You'd be looking to move soon, assuming you could get out alive.
But it wasn't too long before she found a celebrity whose hand she didn't mind on her ass, and she had a tough choice to make - Exciting celebrity, limelight, potential fame and fortune or comparatively dull corporate exec? Hmmm let's see.... Eenie, meenie, minie, mo.....
But I'm in no way complaining. She didn't want any money, the divorce cost me a total of $110, and I'm now married to a beautiful, charming woman. Sunday will be 2 months. In 5 years together we've never even had a disagreement, let alone an argument. This one's different than all the rest. Really.
When I last ran into #2, the celebrity had moved on to greener (translation = younger and hotter) pastures, and she spends her evenings sitting home alone wishing she had someone to talk to and /or two dimes to rub together. And Dale's not doing so good either. Karma's a powerful thing, ain't it?

But I digress. One thing's for certain - I need to move across town.

Life in the Rut

2005-05-19T11:41:00.000-04:00

In the last couple weeks I've become interested in reading blogs. I'd heard of them for a while but never gave them much thought. I mostly heard them mentioned back during the presidential elections, while watching some political commentary program. But I have my own opinions and don't need anyone else's. Especially since they're usually wrong, or at the very least seriously misguided. So I never checked out those political blogs.

Of course I also heard about that famous woman blogger, saw her on the news once or twice. Can't think of her name off hand but you know who I mean - Rich, pompous, bloviating windbag. I heard she has guest bloggers too. So now, not only can I not give a shit about what she thinks, I can also not give a shit about what her friends think. Thanks for the opportunity. Needless to say, I never read her blog either (ed note: Arianna Huffington is her name).

A couple weeks ago I was googling something, I don't recall what, and after following a circuitous path I ended up reading Clublife. Very interesting topics, excellent writing, funny, insightful, you name it. This guy's good, I was hooked. I suspect he'll be famous before long. Not the anonymous fame he's enjoying now - real fame and all that goes with it.

I followed his links and read a few other blogs. Some good, some not so good. Some active, some sedentary. Some mindless drivel, others thought-provoking.

So I thought maybe I'd start a blog. Not in search of fame and fortune, mostly out of boredom and an effort to organize my thoughts. I could see right off the bat that the rich, entertaining blog material that I've found elsewhere will be a challenge for me. You see, I'm in a bit of a rut and lead a pretty dull, uneventful existence. But it is what it is, make the best of it.

Some background info: I work from home and have for the last 4 years. For 9 years before that I worked in an office here in NC but my boss and coworkers were in MD. Now, most people will hear that and think it's the greatest gig going, but don't be so quick to jump on this band wagon if you get the chance. Two or three days working from home, and two or three in the office would be great. But none in the office, ever? It sucks, take it from me. There is no local office anymore. The 'office' Xmas party is me sitting here at my laptop wearing a party hat. The usual Xmas party antics I read about just don't seem to cut it: Get myself loaded and cop a feel... Make some copies of my own ass... Woo hoo. Want to meet your work buds for a few brewskis Friday evening? Can't do it without hopping on a plane, and even if you went through that trouble you'd only see one since the others are somewhere else. Have a major life event you want to celebrate with a big party? Get ready to look like an outcast, cuz no one's coming. They're hundreds of miles away and they have their own shit going on. Working from home is great at first. It's seductive, it's alluring. But as time goes by the local people you used to work with drift off to the four winds, and you're stuck sitting in your home office. Day after day, month after month, year after... You get the picture. But I have 23 years invested here and they pay me a good buck so I shouldn't complain. But I will anyway, that's part of my nature.

Hence the name: The Comfortable Rut. Sure it's a rut, but it's a rut of the most insidious, addictive type - It's comfortable. It's so stealthy it took years to even recognize. Beware the comfortable rut.