Call Me Old Fashioned

What the hell is this guy thinking?

Generally I'm not going to ingest anything that is known to be genetically defective. This general principle carries over to other areas of my life and the rules that I live by.

I won't:

• be entertained by anything genetically defective (see Michael Jackson rules, see also Michael Moore compendium)
• sleep with anything that is genetically defective (see Cher rule)
• work for anyone that is genetically defective (see Bill Gates rule)
• take advice from the genetically defective (see Tony Robbins rule)
• make a movie with anything that is genetically defective (see Damon/Affleck rule)

Oh, and Santa...

Make sure you give these guys something special this year....

Dear Santa,

With only a few days left before you take to the skies I wanted to give you my Christmas list. Now I know that you've been stealing NSA satellite time to keep an eye on people, but if you ignore some of my lesser moments this year, I won't blow you in as a foreigner performing terrorist-like activities on US soil. Not mention working the rooftops of American homes without a proper work visa.

So, just get me a couple of these things and there won’t be any problems:

1. A license to kill
2. Rock’em Sock’em Robots (classic)
3. A severe case of IBS for Best Grip Mike (aka Michael Moore)
4. Another Superbowl win for the Patriots (you can never have too many)
5. A Lennonesque holiday for Bono (Person of the Year my ass)
6. Any cool, super-violent, video game (preferably one that a congressperson has commented on but never seen)
7. No more George Lucas movies
8. Another corporate re-organization
9. PEZ candy the size of those big dispensers
10. An updated version of Rosemary’s Baby starring Katie Holmes
11. A Cubs team that plays ABOVE expectations
12. Peace on Earth and good will to all men [not in the Church of Scientology]

Thanks Santa, I know you’ll do the right thing…

He Ran Away From Who?

I have only one comment after reading this, "Are you kidding me, you ran scared from Hayden Christensen."

Next time try to follow up your great one-line with a kick to the nuts. Then you can walk away with a smile on your face.

Daredevil: The Movie Sucked And So Does the Life Style

If you saw the movie, you know that the only thing that could have improved it was if I was blind (and deaf) and didn't have to experience another pain-filled Affleck performance. Watching a questionable movie may end up causing mental anguish and the lasting feeling of having lost several hours of your life, but it generally doesn't kill or disfigure you. Not so for some of the activities "enjoyed" by those with a daredevil life style. I'm talking about those people who are into extreme sports such as skydiving, hang gliding, and having sex with Cher. I just don't get it. If something goes wrong, it goes REALLY wrong. Really bad things can happen. Like what happened to this nice, formerly attractive young woman. Even when I didn't have a family counting on me to be alive at the end of my weekend entertainment, I chose not to endanger my life senselessly.

I’d even throw bull riding, extreme skiing, and watching an episode of Joey into the mix. My suggestion, find some hobbies that are less dangerous. And for the love of all things human, if you have to do them, don’t do them while you’re pregnant. I have to look at the bright side though, now I can replace the phrase “Looks like someone hit her with an ugly stick!”, with “Looks like her chute didn’t open!”

Andy Rooney Must Die

How the hell is this guy still on a credible morally-questionable, liberally-biased, trash news program like 60 Minutes [But at least they're not covering the Ben and JLo, Brad and Angelina stories like most of the other "news programs"]. The guy is as senile as Harry Carrey in the later years. You know, the Harry Carrey that would say things like, “Derrick May’s name spelled backwards is Yam.” Thanks Harry, here’s your cookie.

Last night Rooney starts his rant off by reminiscing about how, when he was a youngster, you’d see lots of Chevrolets, Buicks, and Packards on the roads. Now every American auto manufacturer has too many models to remember. He then goes on to talk about how American car quality isn’t good any more and, here’s the best part, it’s because they’re spending too much time figuring out new model names. He then raves about Japanese cars and says how great the Toyota cars are and that he owns one.

My wife and I sat there staring at the television like we just watched a Superbowl halftime show where some ancient band teams up with a couple of talent-less pop stars to create a musical abomination only a network executive could love.

Hey Rooney, I’m going to go out on a limb here but my guess is that when a manager at GM asks one of this automotive engineers what he did that week the response isn’t, “Well I was on the CAD system for about 4 hours and worked with the clay model in the wind tunnel for about 8, but the rest of the time I was thinking about the name for this new model.” Hellooo, they have retarded marketing people to come up with the names. Their quality sucks because they’re incompetent, not because everyone at Ford is thinking about new names.

Apparently what the US auto industry is lacking is what the Japanese have figured out. How to come up with cool names and still build a quality car? Hey, Andy, it’s a kind of magic. Look I just pulled this bladder control device out of your hairy ear. Presto. Thanks for uncovering that mystery. Next week, try a story on the negative effects of eating fast food and why it’s because the seats in McDonald’s are uncomfortable. Dumbass.

Saddam Changes Strategy

In what most people view as a lame attempt to keep the world interested in his pre-execution trial, Saddam has decided to play the You're Bigger Bullies Than I Am card at his trial. Calling the judges and the court "unjust" and equating their management of the trial to "terrorism", Saddam boycotted his trial. It is also believed that Saddam will be begin to boycott other things such as the prison pick-up soccer game and his weekly prison shower. Although he was unavailable for comment, a source close to Saddam stated that he is tired of being treated like an ex-dictator and mass murder. "He's continually picked last for the soccer teams and believes he is being targeted by prison authorities during his shower time because he can only get a standard bar of soap while most of the other inmates get soap-on-a-rope. It hurts him, it hurts him deeply," the source said.

It is believed that Saddam is also taking things into his own hands. He recently attempted to use a Get Out of Jail Free card on one of his jailers. The jailer, agreeing to be interviewed as long as his identity was withheld said, "At first I was like, wow...how'd he get one of these? I was about the let him walk when I realized that it wasn't signed. I've heard of guys falling for this one, but I wasn't about to let it happen on my watch." Sources have indicated that Saddam is also contemplating the "I Know You Are But What Am I?" defense and the Chewbacca defense. Only time will tell how long we'll have to wait for his inevitable execution but it is believed that Saddam will be boycotting the sunrise on that day.

Please, Take My Money

It's not often stupid crooks come up with a doomed-from-the-beginning plan and actually have it work. In this case, they found someone dumber than them. I might have taken them to the bank, withdrawn $10 in Deutsche Marks, and explained to them that I don't have any US currency in the bank, but that with the current exchange rate this is $6,000. Who knows, they might fall for it. (For the sake of humor we'll assume that Deutsche Marks were still in circulation.)

I love the end of the article where they go all PSA and give us tips...I have a few more:

• Don't trust anyone who works or shops at Wal-Mart
• Don't trust anyone who claims to have $8,000 in cash on their person
• Carry a gun so if someone approaches you with $8,000 in cash on their person you can hold them up
• If someone claims to "not like the serial numbers on their cash" try to get them to open about why the numbers are so offensive you may find out that you don't like them either
• When laundering money always, and I mean always, ask to see the dirty cash up front (you want to make sure they don't have an envelope full of Monopoly money, or worse yet, Canadian cash)
• When laundering money, don't do it at a place you frequent...like Wal-Mart

Kick-ass Children's Stories

Generally, entertainment for kids these days is very lacking. You've got the old stand-bys like Sesame Street, but there's a whole lot of crap out there too like Teletubbie, Barney, and any of that crap Lucas puts out that’s supposed to be “for kids.”

As my son gets older and we get past the basic ABC's and 123's books, I’ve found some real gems that are great for kids and are entertaining for adults as well. Here are a few of my personal favorites.

Pierre Bear by Richard Scarry
Normally a story about a guy named Pierre needs to end in his fiery demise. But this frenchie is a bear, which is totally cool. Plus he lives by himself up in the north country and lives off the land. First Pierre spends his days hunting the dangerous moose. Then he makes his annual trip into town where he finds a woman that will marry him without the need for multiple dates, flowers, or any of the other crap that goes along with courting down here below the artic circle. I'm pretty sure he'd have been okay if she just wanted to shack up, but since it's a kids book I let this plot flaw go. So he takes her home to check out his ultra-hip taxidermied head collection and, before you know it, they have a little bear. Once the cub is old enough to hold a rifle, they both head out to hunt fur seals. BANG! They shoot the biggest one dead and drag him home. They all love their new fur coats and everyone (except the moose and fur seal) live happily ever after. Kick-ass. Thanks Richard.

Yertle the Turtle by Dr. Seuss
For those of you working for a big company, you really need to get familiar with this story. It’s about an executive manager, named Yertle, who thinks he’s better than everyone else because he’s…an executive manager. So he comes up with this “great” plan to make himself look good and uses everyone underneath him to try to make it work. But like most plans developed by upper-management, it all falls apart because he has no clue how to motivate and inspire the people that work for him. Ultimately he ends up with mud all over his face and nothing to show for it. The hero of the story is Mack. He’s the hero because he does what’s best for the entire company. I would have preferred if he hadn’t been passive aggressive about it, but it works none-the-less. Rating: 4.5 out of 5.

Sometimes I Like To Curl Up in a Ball by Vicki Churchill and Charles Fuge
This book kicks-ass because it’s about a wombat. Period. Doesn’t matter what they do they’re cool. They are the anti-French.

Sneetches and other stories by Dr. Seuss
This is a great story that includes racial bias, the desire to “fit-in”, and someone that makes a boat-load of money off both. I won’t give away any of the plot, but I will say that Sylvester McMonkey McBean is a brilliant entrepreneur capable of acquiring wealth from the truly stupid. If you’ve never read it, get yourself a copy. There’s also a cool spook story about a haunted pair of pale green pants.

We all have a lot to learn from talking trains and cat's that wear hats.

'Asinine Use of Public Funds' of the Week

I haven’t seen something this stupid in a while. Are you telling me that the most heinous criminal you could find is using squeeze cheese as a weapon? The Sherriff’s department should be embarrassed. First for allowing charges to be filed, and second for making this guy a “most wanted”.

I’m sure the trailer they live in has been the scene of many a domestic dispute, see the aforementioned charge: Third-offense criminal domestic violence, but come on, she put it on his truck. That’s attempted destruction of property, that cheese will eat right through clear coat. Do you see her being charged? No. To make matters worse there wasn’t even any evidence; she washed it out of her hair. Generally if you plan to press charges for being assaulted with a food product from isle 5, I always recommend leaving the crime scene as is. Of course, it’s much harder to hit on the cute policemen with a pile of processed cheese in your mullet.

Remind me to tell you the story someday about my high school physics teacher who was abused by his WIFE! Guy was a crappy teacher and apparently, based on the knife wounds, he wasn’t much better at being a husband.

So anyway, be on the look out for a man in his late 30s driving a dark colored pickup truck with a yellow racing strip. He’s wanted in South Carolina for reckless use of a condiment. If only she’d gotten her bitch-ass back in the kitchen and cooked some dinner this whole thing could have been averted. They will never learn.

Dude, I Got Subpoenaed. Now What?

Generally I’m a fan of free-for-all capitalize. If you’ve got the best product and you dominate the market, so be it. But there are times when a company may have established their position using this method but then use questionable practices to maintain it. I can’t think of two bigger offenders than Microsoft and Intel. For those that don’t keep up on tech news, AMD is taking Intel to court and companies like Dell are getting caught in the middle. Here’s a great article on how Dell is reacting.

You know, and I know that the lawyers are the ones that decided to start selling AMD chips. And we also both know that there is going to be a special place in the fiery darkness for those lawyers. But who do they think they’re fooling? The sad part is they only need to fool the judge. I can’t believe that the judge is going to fully understand how silly it looks that Dell is selling AMD processors.

So, for the sake of the non-technical judge let’s use a more generic analogy.

So let’s say you’re a judge (Dell), and have been know to take a “present” now and again from an attorney. Now let’s say that someone (Intel) approaches you and suggests that if you only take “presents” from him that he’ll not only increase the size of the “present” but he’ll also make sure to bring you the highest profile cases. Which of course are “good for business”. He tells you that the only stipulation is that you can no longer accept “presents” from anyone else. Sounds like a good deal huh? Yeah, right up until the point where someone (AMD) comes to you with a high profile case and a desire to “do business”. You politely turn him down because of your existing arrangement, only to find out that he’s been turned down by some of the other judges willing to “do business” and is talking about exposing the lot of you.

To avoid the ugliness of being exposed, you let it be known on the street that you’re “open for business again”. But to avoid breaking your exclusive relationship, you either have the cases reassigned or you price your services so high that you make it impossible for someone other than your “partner” to find your services useful.

Now I can’t imagine any judge doing something like that, but does that make sense at all judge? Just a little?

Can Religion Kill?

Well, at first glance it appeared that this man's desire to keep himself pure was the cause of death. But, they brought in the CSI team and with all their hi-tech gadgets they determined that, in actuality, the man died from his own stupidity. I’m not sure which is funnier, that the guy jumped, or that one of his buddies dared him to jump. I wonder if it was a double-dog dare?

The Story

Who the hell would jump from a moving car? What a dumbass. Oh wait, actually I have a confession. I too jumped from a moving vehicle. I was 12 years old and was in a car full of kids on our way to a youth group meeting. A “friend” suggested we should climb out the back window of the station wagon (yes, the faux wood paneled variety), stand on the bumper, and jump off as we pulled in the driveway. All so we could get the “best” seat. As the story goes, and I say this because to this day I do not remember any of it, we counted to three, I jumped…he didn’t (for that and several other transgressions I no longer speak to this person). I fell, rolled, and apparently hit my head on the gravel driveway. I got up dusted myself off and we went into the youth group meeting. About 20 minutes into the meeting I started freaking out, there may also have been a little bit of crying but I’m not sure I believe that part of the story. Needless to say, I told the adults at the meeting that I didn’t know where I was or who they were. It was at that moment that they too started freaking out.

So they called my mother and off to the hospital I went. After a battery of tests including asking me stupid questions like, “What day is it?” and “Who is the president?”, all of which I couldn’t answer, they determined that I had been concussed. I had no short or long term memory and, as my loving brother stated, “If he stays like this they’ll have to lock him up.”

I started to remember things over the next 24 hours, and was “okay” after about 48 hours. But it was quite the ordeal for my mother and the youth group adults who all scolded me quite a bit once I was recovered. But, since I didn’t remember making the decision to jump or actually jumping, all the yelling didn’t really have much impact.

To this day I do not remember any of it other than bits and pieces of my recovery in the hospital. So, if you ever read this and can’t figure out how any sane person could spend time thinking about this stuff, now you know. I’m not quite right in the head.

But getting back to the story, I jumped from a car traveling at ~5MPH. This Keanu (this is my new term for super-morons) jumped from one going 35 all because someone was cursing. Apparently Darwin does still claim a few victims.

My advice, don’t shake a baby, and never jump from a moving vehicle. Unless of course there’s a really good reason, like your vehicle is on fire, or you have a chance to get a front row seat at the Michael Moore vs. Rick Berman Celebrity DeathMatch.

New Orleans Mayor Finds Solice In French Rioting

It's been several months since the initial disaster of Katrina ravaged New Orleans and the rest of the central gulf coast. Since that time Ray Nagin, mayor of New Orleans, has been busy trying to help the city and it's people dry out and begin the rebuilding process. Sarcasm Inc. was lucky enough to land an interview with Mr. Nagin to get his thoughts on the city's progress as well as the recent events in France.

SI - Mr. Nagin, thank you for taking time out of your business day. Can you tell us what you've been doing since the Katrina disaster?

RN -You can call me Ray. It's been a busy time, watching the water pumping, pursuing leads on who to point additional fingers at, trying to get the new coral growth off our bus fleet. But probably the biggest task has been figuring out the new name.

SI - What new name?

RN- The new name for the city. I mean, it used to be called New Orleans, but given the amount of rebuilding we're going to do it made sense to me to rename the city. I've dedicated an entire committee to determine the new name. The leading candidates right now are: The New Orleans, Newer Orleans, and Pat O’Brien’s Hurricane Central: City of Booze and Loose Women. The last one is a little long, but I’m a big fan of corporate sponsorship.

SI- Um….okay. So what was the first thing you did when you knew Katrina was going to hit the city?

RN- Well, I thought to myself. Ray, if anyone is going to be able to do something it’s going to be you. So I hopped in my car and drove down to the pier. I stood there, as the wind and waves were beginning to pound the city, and I looked directly at the storm.

SI- And then what Ray?

RN- And then I did the only thing I could. I said, “Katrina the Hurricane...good evening. As a duly designated representative of the City of New Orleans, I order you to cease any and all destructive activity and return forthwith to your place of origin or to the nearest convenient Central American country.”

SI – That didn’t work so much did it?

RN – No….not really.

SI – What about your disaster plan?

RN – Oh, that thing. Yeah, I thought about that but just getting it rolling is a lot of work. I figured I’d try talking Katrina down first. Who knew?

SI – So Ray, after you realized that asking it to go away wasn’t going to help, tell us how you worked with the state to get assistance. Did you contact Governor Blanco?

RN – Yeah, I contacted her. But it didn’t help. She claimed she didn’t have enough national guardsmen. Then the dickless wonder decided not to ask for federal assistance right away.

SI – Really, is that true?

RN – Yes, she has no dick.

SI – No, I….never mind. So you seem in pretty good spirits despite the city still being in such ruins. How do you keep so upbet?

RN – Well, you might think it’s the hard working people helping to get this city back on it’s feet, the tireless work of individuals, and the never give up attitude. Honesty, between you and me, that crap makes me sick. Actually, it’s the rioting in France that’s helped get me out of my funk.

SI – How so?

RN –I look at what the French government has done to handle the situation, and I realize that useless people are put in positions of power all over the world. I’m not alone.

SI – So you think the situation could have been handled differently?

RN – Absolutely. Let’s see, the first French government response was, “Stop the rioting or we will be forced to ask you to stop again.” Now in most countries where hearing the French language spoken with a native accent is like finger nails on a chalkboard it might be an effective threat. But these people have built up an auditory immunity.

Then they escalated to, “Stop, or we will be forced to confine you to your homes.” What are you grounding teenagers? Hello, these people are setting fire to cars. You really think they’re going to adhere to a curfew?

And now the latest, “If you are convicted of participation in the rioting, you will be deported.” Um…really. I can get a free ticket out of this hole just by burning a car? Sweet.

I have a couple ideas for the French. First, start giving away free booze; beer, wine, whatever. Once they’re drunk enough, it’s highly unlikely they’ll be able to figure out their lighters. That worked for us a lot during Marde Gras. Or the better, and maybe more permanent solution, would be to call in the Germans. They’ve got lots of experience in this type of thing, they know the area, and they’re not going to take any shenanigans. I mean, thank God, most people probably don’t even remember my name now. We’ve got new governmental ineptness on the block and his name is Jacques Chirac. Way to go Jack.

The Nameless One

I've been thinking about writing for a while regarding a certain NFL player who, on this site, shall forever rename nameless (I'll refer to him as the Clueless One or C.O.) I'm not going to write a single thing about him, I'm simply going to ask the media to stop covering this story like it's important and start covering real football. If I wanted off-field drama I'd watch the DVDs of Playmakers. Stop with human interest pieces and show me some freakin' hits already. And if ESPN doesn't get rid of that talentless ass-kisser Irvin after this year I may have to boycott. Please, please I just want to see Tom Jackson actually tackle him on the set when they run those little primer drills on the fake field.

Hey C.O. good luck landing that long term deal now...Ass.

Stories That NEVER Get Old

It might just be me, but stories about drunk lesbian cheerleaders having sex in public restrooms and trying to start a full-on bar brawl just don't ever get old.

In other news, I'm really not sure this could have happened to a nicer country. Don't get me wrong, I'm no fan of senseless violence, but when the French are involved you always have to wonder if it's really senseless.

The thing that drives me nuts is that this isn't a race or cultural issue. This is about the rich (or perceived rich) and the poor. There are also always going to be poor, really poor, people that are going to do uncivilized things because they think it's the only way they're going to survive. I can forgive most of these actions. But it's the poor people that hide behind religion or some other "cause" that really piss me off. Generally, I think they're too lazy or too crazy to fix what's broken in their own lives, so they resort to sabotaging the lives of others.

In America it's called The Man. In the rest of the world it's called America. Either way, it's people thinking that somehow, someone else has more control over the outcome of their life than they do. Sorry but actually you're probably just a lazy dumb bastard with little self-worth and a chronic drug problem to show for it. Either that or you've had some some rich crazy "holy" man convince you that blowing stuff up is the only way to affect positive change. Nice work jackass, I can only hope through sheer stupidity that some of you people manage to blow yourselves up before you get to your target.

So here's my advice for the day. If you see someone in need, and can afford to help them, do so. If you are in need, get the hell off my site and go find a job.

Don't Throw Out Those Cans

I'm pretty sure that if you work for a corporate HR department, and solid sexual harassment policies are as dear to you as double footlongs with chili are to Michael Moore, you should avoid including images like this one in your HR newsletter. Even if it is only an article on an upcoming food drive.









Tisk, tisk. You really should know your slang a little better. Cans: Slang for a woman's breasts. All HR departments should have at least one man on staff to proof read anything that leaves the department.

It's obvious that women don't keep up on these things. Laughing out loud, I showed the newsletter to my wife and she had no clue why the image was funny. Which leads me to believe that women may think they understand men and know what we're thinking, but in reality they're as clueless about us as we are about them.

Fact: Men have over 200 terms that can be used to refer to women's breasts. And we're making up new ones all the time.

Fact: Men are stupid. In our attempt to “not get caught,” we make up these new terms. Turns out, women have better things to do than figure out our juvenile language games. Damn, we could have been using cans and ta-tas all along.

Common Sense Prevails...If Only For a While

These types of stories still amazing me. I'm not sure which I'm more amazed at: being offended by a toy, or banning "offending material" because one person complains. If someone crapped on my dinner my first response wouldn't be to take offense. I would think, "Damn! What did I do to this guy? He doesn't look familiar." Now that may make me thick-skinned, but there's no reason that people have to get all worked up over business that isn't theirs.

Take the person in this article, getting offended by a toy pig. Hello. It's made out of plastic, or cloth, or some otherwise non-offensive material. How can a toy, made out of a non-offensive material offend you? Get real. If you don't like it, don't look at it. Does even the word "pork" offend you? Yes? Good...pork...pork, pork, pork...pork. PORK, PORK....PORKPORKPORK.

You know what would happen if I got to decide what was offensive and what wasn't, people would either wear burlap sacks and brown paper bags or they would be naked (women only thanks). Only naked isn't entirely true, 98% of everyone would have duct tape over their mouths. Not because what they say is offensive, but how they say it. I just don't want to listen too them.

Gone would be the Oxygen network, Fox executives, John Madden, and people who use the phrase "mute point". Out would be mushrooms, greeting cards, and all holidays other than Christmas and the 4th of July. Every member of congress would be looking for a job, and Best Grip Mike would be providing legally enforced community service at the weekly Young Republicans meeting.

But, as a white protestant male I have no individual authority. So I have to learn to suck it up. I have to listen to pop-rap music when I'm in the mall, watch my beloved sports succumb to corporate sponsorship (I've got your Degree All-in Moment right here!), try to figure out what all the colored ribbons and bracelets are for (like I care), and endure advertisements for all sorts of feminine products on television.

So all you people out there that think you've got something to be offended about; Kiss My Ass, I'm offended by you. My sensibilities are assailed on a daily basis but you don't see me go whining to HR. If you don't like it leave. Go to France, whining is a national pastime there. Or better yet, go to California. Based on current events and the overall mass of Michael Moore that slide into the Pacific can't be far away.

This Week in DVD

My wife and I watched Exorcist: The Beginning this weekend. If only I'd listened to them and watched just the beginning. I could have avoided an hour (or more) of convoluted plot twists, bad acting, and a complete lack of scariness.

Everything that was right about the original was wrong with this movie. And since I choose to not relive this atrocity again, I simply give this movie the double thumbs down. If you've wondered whether this movie is any good you've already wasted too much time on it.

Only way this movie could have gotten worse is if Ben Affleck had played the lead character. Which leads me to the question of the week.

Who is the worst big budget actor/actress working today?

Question of the Week

So here's one to ponder. Let's say that you invent a time machine. Standard theory is that time travel into the future is possible assuming the theory of relativity and something that can move your ass at near the speed of light. I'm not talking about travel into the future. I'm talking about bending or breaking a few rules and being able to send objects back in time.

What do you do with it?

My answer is very simple. I patent it and then I sell it to UPS. Think about it. You get a knock on your door. You answer it and there's the UPS man. He hands you a package. You say, "Hey, I didn't order anything."

"You will."

It's at that moment that the "Power of Brown" marketing campaign will all make sense. (Okay, not really. That's one of the most retarded marketing ploys ever. There's that one guy that says, "Things got a whole lot easier once I plugged into the big brown machine." Um....okay. To each his own. Good luck with that and here's the number for the free clinic.)

I would suggest, of course, that UPS label these packages Plaid. UPS Plaid, when it absolutely, positively, has to be there yesterday. I'd also suggest that the pricing structure look something like this. (All prices list are for a standard 1lb UPS letter package.)

Earlier Same Day: $200,000
Yesterday: $50,000
Last Week: $25,000
Beyond 7 days: $5,000

You know damn well that if someone realizes they need something they're going to act on it right then. Most idiots won't realize they can order it whenever. We reward the intelligent and punish the stupid. That's my kind of pricing model.

Of course we'd probably also have to implement rules so people can't send back winning lottery tickets, or try to ship themselves back (in the process breaking federal and universal laws) to take a mulligan with the girl in New Orleans. Whoa, speaking of the Big Easy, think about all the stuff that would be going back in time because of Katrina. We might see a UPS trailer parked outside Nagin's office. I can hear myself rolling around in the money as I type. Now, where did I put the internet plans for that flux-capacitor.

1000 People? Are You Kidding Me?

It's official. I've had 1000 people visit this site. I've been using BlogPatrol to monitor site usage and here are some interesting stats:

• sarcasminc.blogspot.com is #956 on the BlogPatrol Top 1000 List
• the site averages about three new visitors a day
• most visitors are using Windows XP and Firefox (interesting...)
• I've even had a few people using Macs (apparently I haven't commented on my feelings about Apple yet)
• and one lonely grease guzzler from doublefootlongswithchili.org (damn that fool is such as egotist)

Well, apparently you people don't have anything to do, which is sad. Why don't you go read a book, do some work, or find a woman.

Or better yet, go get me my fries!

Is That Wide Receiver Having a Seizure?

I'm watching the game last night (CIN/JAX) and Reggie Williams a wide receiver for Jacksonville catches this 12 yard pass. Then he gets up and starts shaking like he's about to bite his tongue and foam at the mouth. "What the hell is that?", then it hits me. He's celebrating. He's celebrating a 12 yard catch. Dude, YOU GET PAID TO CATCH PASSES. I mean, are you really saying, "Hey, look at me. I just did something that surprised me. Yeah for me."

I'll give them the back flip for their first touchdown, but why do players feel the need to peacock themselves around the field every time they do what they're being paid to do. Then there's that stupid drop-to-one-knee-and-lower-your-arm-in-the-direction-your-team-is-driving first down antics. Yes we know you got a first down, we see the yellow line, now go back to the huddle and see if you can't do it again. And the jawing. Man, are you serious. It was one catch, how about the three others you dropped before that. Shut your hole and be thankful those of us that employ you through our support of your league don't decide that kicks to the crotch are the new "in thing" we want to see as part of team celebrations. Trust me, I could sell it to the NFL.

Can you imagine if the idea of celebrating the little victories in our jobs were translated and adopted by other professions. What if truck drivers stopped their trucks and hopped onto the shoulder every time they drove ten miles. Down to one knee, hand open, arm snaps horizontal....NEXT MILE MARKER! Or the guy that leaps out of his cube and starts flexing in his office-mates face, "Hey, I just finished that Java function. What do you have done? What? Nothing....yeah, you got noth'in. I own you."

Here's some advice from Uncle Jimbo to the average NFL showboat. When you make the catch act like you've done it before and you'll do it again. Act like it's no big thing. Because that's far more impressive than the preening.

Ad Campaigns Are Like Presidents

They're either effective or they're not. Generally, bad ads will not just cause me to not buy a product or service, but if they're really bad they'll drive me away from the product entirely. Take Snickers. I like Snickers, but I won't eat them right now because of their horrible ad campaign. What idiot executive looked at the storyboards for these ads and thought, "Yeah, that's a great concept." More than likely the thought was something like this, "Man, I don't understand this at all. It must be good. Hey, I wonder if my assistant remembered to put her bra back on." Do we have a bunch of ex-Fox executives working at M&M/Mars now? Let's see, we'll have people do things with Snickers that they're not intended for like throw at a deer or toss on a fire, and in doing so inform people that they're really tasty and they should buy some. I HATE THESE ADS!

Take the deer hunting one. If they really wanted red-neck deer hunters to buy Snickers wouldn't they have shot the same ad but instead of the deer running away when attacked, they could have had the Snickers bars turn into deadly sharp weapons that slice through the deer, killing it on the spot, automatically gutting and dressing it. Snickers, tasty in the tree stand and deadly quiet from 30 yards. Red-necks would be buying Snickers by the case.

Then there's the one were the um....questionably straight...guy who sees a fire, breaks the glass, grabs a Snickers and throws it on the fire only to have no effect. If you really wanted to sell to questionably straight men, wouldn't you have had the Snickers hit the fire and magically turn into a muscular, shirt-less fireman who douses the fire with urine and gives the guy a sly wink. No doubt that would sell to the questionable straight audience. As it is, the ads make fun of those demographics it portrays and pisses off the rest of us because of their stupidity. Nice job. These are Bush league ads. Too much attempted cleverness, not enough action.

Then we have the Reagan league ads, even if I didn't want it, I'd buy it because of the message. In this category we have the new Milwaukee's Best Light ads. Yep, the "Men Should Act Like Men" ads. I haven't laughed this hard at a series of ads in quite a while. Well done Milwaukee.

Pet Peeve #26: People with Walking Disabilities

No, I'm not talking about traditional physically-disabled people. I'm talking about those people that you watch walk and are pretty sure their parents are a rung or two below you on the evolutionary ladder.

First we have the people who can't pick up their feet when they walk. They do this feet shuffling thing that sounds the Frankenstein monster on a three-day bender. Please…lift your foot, step forward, and put your foot on the ground. Repeat with the opposite foot. Stop dragging your feet like a woman invited into the Colonel's house.

Then there are those people that wear noisy clothes or shoes. Whether it's the swish, swish of nylon pants or the clomp, clomp of non-practical shoes. Nothing drives Uncle Jimbo closer to referring to himself in the third-person and a career in ballistic healing than obnoxious repetitive noises. Fashion should not be noisy!

And finally, we have the people that, when passed in the hall or on the street, refuse to make eye contact or respond to a non-hostile, sometimes even pleasant, greeting. Now rumor has it that the only way to not get shot in NYC is to avoid eye contact. I can respect that. There are enough nut jobs down there that I wouldn’t want to talk to them either. But I live in…..Ah, screw it. I hate people…keep on ignoring me. I’ll be over here admiring my huge collection of slightly used clogs and parachute pants.

The Basic Laws of Stupidity

The Basic Laws of Stupidity as defined by Carlo M. Cipolla, Professor of Economics, UC Berkeley.

Who knew an economics professor could exist in the I quadrant. It is my recommendation that we begin labeling people appropriately. Start with yourself. If you're not an I or a B1, please stop coming to this site.

Asshat of the Week Award

Here is a letter to movie reviewer (sic) Jack Garner.

P.S. If you haven't seen Serenity, please go and see it. If for no other reason than to show Jack Garner he's the worst movie reviewer in the 'verse.

=====================

Dear Jack,

After reading your review of Serenity it took a moment for me to realize that you obviously have never watched a single episode of Firefly on TV or DVD. That is most unfortunate as it is, in my opinion, one for the ages. It is full of real-life humor and real-life conflict, set in a space-western with the campy flavor of an old-school Saturday serial. I'll admit it may not be everyone's cup of tea but given that it's sold hundreds of thousands of DVDs, and Fox executives lay awake at night wondering how they let it get away, this show is loved by a lot of people. And apparently, they're going to see it in droves enough to make a $10,000,000 dent in the box office.

Unfortunately I believe with all movies you review you decide certain movies can be glossed over. Given it's pedigree, you probably felt Serenity was just another attempt to make easy money off a television series (ala Duke of Hazzard) and went into the movie with a preconceived notion of what it would be. You metion "less-than-stellar effects." Believe it or not people enjoy the stylistic approach Whedon (and other's such as Ronald Moore on the television series Battlestar Galactica) uses for his effects. They aren't the sterile cookie-cutter effects we've had to live with since Lucas re-released the "enhanced" original trilogy. Whedon uses his effects to assist with his story telling. Lucas uses them as a crutch.

You refer to average-to-poor performances from the cast. This surprises me considering you didn’t seem to mention any performance problems in the horribly acted Revenge of the Sith. I will neither agree nor disagree with your statement that characters and plot elements are lifted "willy-nilly" from Star Trek and Star Wars. But I find it interesting that you applaud Lucas (re: Revenge of the Sith review) for lifting ideas from "popcorn serials, samurai flicks and westerns", yet rip Whedon for the very same thing. As for the dialogue, if you don't get it, I'm not going to explain it to you. Thank goodness anticipated box office revenue doesn't have any effect on the depth or quality of your reviews.

For many years I have found you a solid rock in the world of movie reviews. If you panned the movie, I enjoyed it. If you raved, I gagged. Thanks for not disappointing me.

SPAM Prevention Step #1

Okay, to avoid the increasingly annoying SPAM I've turned on word verification. Unfortunately it will require ligit commentors to enter a sequence of letters in order to post.

Sorry for the extra step, I'm currently contemplating my counter-attack.

Chicken Little

Nothing pisses me off more than.....wait a second. I think I use that phrase too much. I mean, in reality there should only be one thing that gets labeled as "Pisses Me Off More Than Anything Else!" Boy.....um.....what would that be. I mean there are sooooo may things to choose from. Oh yeah, stupid people. That’s definitely number one. But maybe that's not specific enough. I mean, I'd need a pretty big label. I don't think they make labels that big. Yeah, a big sticky "for stupid people" label. That would be sweet. Like a giant fly trap for stupid people. I could lay it out in a parking lot and put up a sign “Free Money”. Eh…too much work. I could just get a lot of little ones and slap them on peoples foreheads. That sounds like a lot more fun.

Anyway where was I. Oh yeah, this week’s labelee is the author of the following letter. It is from the Gotta Vent section of a local advertising rag. I have some comments when you’re done reading and you've picked yourself up off the floor. Yeah I know....shocking. Jimbo has comments.

I am sick of seeing my neighbors tree branch hanging at least 6 inches over the property line into MY yard. I knew this would happen the day he planted it.
At the time it was 5 feet from the line, but in just 2 years it has grown enough to where one of the branches started creeping toward the line and now it is OVER the line into MY YARD. I do not want to confront him but it just makes me sick, seeing that branch EVERY DAY in MY YARD!!!

Let’s take a look at this letter in a little bit of detail. The question of the authors gender should be dealt with first. It doesn't really matter if it’s a man or a woman, but I know all the guys reading this immediately thought “stupid bitch” and all the women thought “dumb bastard”. I believe this letter was written by a woman, and here’s why. If she can tell the different between 6 and 9 inches from her kitchen window, you know she’s been disappointed in the past. Secondly, she makes it a point to let everyone know she knew this would happen. The I Told You So syndrome. Third, she’s unwilling to confront the neighbor, but she’ll scream from the roof tops, and the local papers, that she’s been wronged. Classic female passive-aggressive response. And finally, she states that the issue has made her sick. Maybe this is a figure of speech, but it’s my guess that this woman has actually become physical ill from worrying over this situation. A guy would take action, not sit on the toilet writing letters. Now, it was suggested to me that the author could be a homosexual male. Good point, but my money’s on a woman.

Now that we’ve settled that, let’s take a look at the stupidity of this person. Let me get this straight. She owns a home, it has a yard, it’s not flooded, blown down, or on fire (I assume this because this type of person would be bitching about these things first). You have time to write this type of letter so I can assume you are either on welfare or have a job that provides you with more than enough food. What the hell do you have to complain about? In this world full of hurricanes, tsunami, and Michael Moores, the best you can come up with to bitch about is a 6 inch twig? Oh, sorry. I didn’t insult your husband there did I? Where the hell is the husband anyway? My guess is that we’re looking at a letter from a blue-haired spinster. But that can’t be because the woman knows how to SCREAM in electronic communications. That would be an indication of youth.

Are you such a sad little person that you’ve actually been watching this tree grow, waiting for the day you could write this letter? That branch doesn’t make me sick. You make me sick. The thought that you’ve had the privilege to be born and grow old in this country while others in this world only dream of such wondrous luck. I hope the tree falls over INTO YOUR YARD and CRUSHES YOU AND CRAPPY LITTLE HOUSE. That would truly be a sad day…FOR THE TREE.

The Poor: Problem Solved

Here is an interesting article with some good statistics on the situation of the poor in America. The most amazing quote is this one, "one of every three children—and seven of every 10 black children—are born outside marriage." What can this be attributed too? Stupidity of course. But not the one you think. I'm not talking about the stupid guys that act like R. Kelly or the stupid girls that can't find a way to keep their knees from springing apart. I'm talking about the stupidity of our government to think that social reform for the poor can be managed through food stamps, welfare, and other soft social programs with all the crutches in the world but no physical therapy. We can give them fish but we can’t seem to find a way to teach them to fish.

Since we’ve spent decades dealing with this problem without meaningful results I have decided that the government needs to take a different approach. We must begin a coordinated and well executed plan to “assist” our poor, both citizens and illegals, to see that their best opportunity for the American Dream can be found in Canada.

That’s right, we’ve go to get as many people moving north across our northern border as there are moving across our southern border, and then some. The Canadians, with their social systems, and vast natural resources are much better prepared to deal with these people than the tards running our government.

What better time to start than with the evacuation of the gulf coast from hurricane Rita. Let’s start IDing those people who fall below our poverty level, put them on buses and haul their asses to Minnesota. There we can give them border crossing packs with a small caliber hunting rifle, snow shoes, a copy of Hockey for Dummies, an English to French dictionary (just in case), a CD of Bryan Adams’ Greatest Hits, and a map with all the major landmarks identified like the Labatt’s Brewery. Then we point north, smack ‘em on the ass, and send them on their way.

Once we’ve cleared out southern Texas we can move on to other areas of the country, like Southern California. There we need to make sure we’re not looking at income only, but also living expenses. Dumb asses like Michael Jackson and Mike Tyson who have made millions and squandered it all should be put on buses too, but not with little kids. Maybe those two should just have a bus all to themselves. See I figure with a little creative accounting, I can get rid of most anyone I want, like that fat pig Best Grip Mike. I figure he’s made several million on his stupid “documentaries” like Fahrenheit 165: The perfect Internal Temperature of Hot Dogs. Dude’s got to eat at least a $100,000 a month in food. There’s no way his bottom line can be above $19,000. “On the bus Mike, before I take that Twinkie away from you.”

Problem Solved. Damn I’m so freaking smart. This took me, maybe, 10 minutes to figure out. Anybody else got a problem they want help with?

The Beast Cometh!

I'm not sure if any of you have had a chance to check out Lumpy's Oddyessy, but it is a great site. It's a great twist on a very common life change.

Lumpy, thanks for the laughs. And keep 'em coming.

People Don't Get It!

Hey, what’s up with people who get angry at sarcastic comments. I mean it’s not like the comments are swift and powerful sword strokes at an individual’s intelligence or lack there of. Except that most of the time they are sword strokes aimed at an individual’s intelligence. Some people get all worked, and all I can think is, “Yes I was mocking you. Can I have my fries now.” Most people take the Stooges approach to humor and beat you over the head with it. There’s no skill in that. If humor were food, sarcasm would be the meat food group.

Play Football in a French Maid Outfit

Football season is upon us and that can only mean one thing. Fantasy football is killing work productivity everywhere. Years ago fantasy football was for the true football fan. Players would pour over stats in the newspaper and watch all the football they could on three channels. Now you’ve got internet sites, magazines, and television shows devoted to the subject of which player will catch more passed or gain more yards this week. With this influx of information we’ve seen an influx of new players, people that probably shouldn’t be playing, but they’re willing to pony up their $50 or $100 league fee to take a stab. In poker we call them fish; easy money. Unfortunately you have to deal with the issues that these “easy money” players bring with them.

Here are a couple of quick questions you can use to determine if you are a fish (if you answer no to more than one of them then you are probably a fish):

1. Can you name all 32 NFL teams?


2. Can you name the starting quarterbacks for each team?


3. Can you explain the tuck rule in 15 words or less?


4. Would you say that Atlanta is more likely than Green Bay to win the Super Bowl this year?


5. Does Manning play quarterback for New York or Indianapolis?


6. Do you know that special team’s players do not ride a short bus to the stadium?


7. It is more important to watch a game in high definition for the game itself than for the cheerleaders?


8. Jeff George was run out of the league prematurely?


9. If your league bases scoring on REC, ATT, YDS, YPC, YPA, TD, TDT would you not draft a kicker?


10. Regardless of your leagues scoring system, would you prefer not drafting a kicker?

I also thought it might be interesting to outline the different types of players. If you play, you probably fall into one or more of these categories. If you don’t you’re probably not being honest with yourself.

Homer—This player just can’t put his favorite team aside come draft day. Claiming he wants to see his players play he’ll go out of his way to take players from his own team. Often this is also coupled with the concept of not taking players from arch-rival teams. Typical Homers will take players from their team 2-4 rounds before they should have been taken. Homers are dumb. Mostly because the team they follow isn’t the Patriots, but also because they take guys like Willis McGahee with the 2nd overall pick.

Hard Luck Loser—Actually a solid player, the HLL usually comes out of the draft with a team that can compete for the championship. That is until week 2 when his #1 running back blows out his knee. And then his kicker pulls a groin muscle celebrating a meaningless field goal. Of course, any player this person picks up will either get injured or simply under perform. This player is also likely to leave lots of points on their bench when 3rd and 4th tier players have a career game.

Ex-Jock—The ex-jock is the guy in high school (and possibly junior college) that thought he knew everything about girls, cars, football, etc. This attitude, despite his complete failure as an athlete and a contributing member of society, remains. During the draft he’ll rest each of 12 consecutive beers on his gut, while he shovels fists full of Doritos into his mouth. Having no clue, and thinking players have already been selected because of a cheese-stained cheat sheet, he selects players that were in their prime when he was in his. Ex-jocks are the easiest money of all.

Smack Talker—You know this guy. This guy likes to run his mouth pre-draft, at the draft, and during the entire season. He’ll rip on your players, your moves, and your mother. He could be 0-5 or 5-0 and he’ll still find a way to bust your balls. Personally I like the Smack Talker, they’re entertaining easy money who are distracted so much by their smack that they don’t pay enough attention to their team.

Gambler—This is the guy willing to fill his roster with “sleeper picks” and long shots. He’ll draft rookies, high profile backups, and anyone else he thinks he can get cheap and turn into a big find. Problem is there are only about two of those guys each year. Often he’s convinced himself that some of these players are coveted by everyone and he’ll take them rounds ahead of where they should be drafted. Occasionally they’ll win, but more likely they’ll lose and along the way develop resentment towards those players that under perform, like Michael Jackson with little boys...if they don't perform don't invite them over again.

Expert (Self-proclaimed) —No explanation needed.

Dweeb—The Dweeb spends the entire off-season developing and perfecting a points-based statistical system to stack rack each player by position. Also included in the calculations are: home/road records, day/night records, rain/snow records, altitude and heat index rankings, chunky soap cans consumed per week, law enforcement run-ins annually, cell phone calls received in the end zone per game, and total copulations with team mascots. The Dweeb then creates a spreadsheet to manage this complex system and spends hours entering the data into it. The Dweeb is most easily identified by this one simple draft-day phrase, “He’s the best value on my board.” Yeah, but he’s the second kicker you’ve taken in the first 6 rounds. Dumb ass.

(Note: The Dweeb is also likely to try to trade draft picks with you thinking that he knows exactly how the draft will play out and that the 3rd and 22nd picks are going to be more valuable than the 7th and 13th picks. What he fails to realize is that he’s drafting with a bunch of Gamblers, Homers, and other easy money that make all his calculations useless.)

Then of course there are the combos, Smack Talking Ex-Jock, Ex-Jock Homer, and of course the Smack Talking Expert (Self-Proclaimed). I hate them the most.

I Think I Threw Up a Little In My Mouth

No, not Dodgeball. There isn't much that can actually turn my stomach but this story did. Apparently trips in car trunks wasn't enough.

Children Found In Cages.

Arguments Are a Lot Like Poker

I dislike bad drivers a lot. Okay, I'll be honest....I think bad drivers embody what's wrong with our society. Driving is a privilege. Most people treat it like a right. Last time I checked the Constitution driving cars, wagons, or anything else wasn't protected. You have the right to pay income tax, even to own a car, but driving it is a privilege.

So my wife tells me this story which epitomizes those who: refuse to use their turn signal, drive at excessive speeds, tail gate, make unsafe lane changes, and generally don't pay attention to what they're doing. As she was about to enter a turn lane for a left hand turn the car behind her moved into the median before the turn lane started and began accelerating. As my wife began move into the turn lane she realized this car was about to rear-end her. The accident was averted but it didn't end there. Both of them pulled into the parking lot of the Post Office where, unlike her, my wife exits her car, approaches the other driver (a woman), and asks her, "Did you know you almost hit me?"

It was at this point that the woman of the other vehicle panicked, "You're crazy. Did you get out of your car to tell em that? You're crazy." My wife, in a calm manner began explaining to the woman why she was in the wrong. The woman continued to scream "crazy" never once thinking that a simple I'm sorry could defuse the situation. It's my right to drive, and it's my right to drive anyway I see fit.

But this is where it gets really good. After my wife gets the last word (or so she thinks) and begins to walk away the woman yells after her, "Who do you think you are? I was just diagnosed with MS and I only have two years to live." This is what I call the Big Raise. Because she didn't have anything to stand on she pushed more chips into the pot in hopes of stealing it (the argument). My wife is always really good at coming up with come backs, but usually it's about 5 minutes after they would have been useful. My wife simply walked away.

I don't know crap about MS but I do know that I've never heard of anyone dying from it. That's tell #1. Tell #2, and I didn't even have to see the exchange to know this, was the frantic "your crazy" bluff. I would have simply re-raised (or gone "all in"). I wouldn't give the woman the satisfaction of stealing anything. My all-in move would have been something like this:

• "Wow, and I just diagnosed you with a case of SD, Shitty Driving. Bad day huh."
• "Good luck with the MS symptoms, FOR THE NEXT 30 YEARS."
• "Keep driving like that and you might not make it two years."
• "Here's my address, have someone let me know when your no longer able to drive."
• "My advice, reduce the load on the medical system. Kill yourself now."

Dying from MS my ass. More like, I need people to feel sorry for me even when I'm a dumb-ass with no "right" being on the road. And why is it that we've become a society that is deathly afraid of conflict. I'll leave that topic for another time.

My Haiku to Bad Drivers:

Lack of attention

no signal; a person hurt

My foot in your ass

It's About Freak'in Time

It's about time someone with knowledge, experience, and facts spoke up.

Screw you and your lame-ass political agenda Best Grip Mike. You make me want to vomit.

Blame Amid the Tragedy

Ricky Williams Was (Almost) Onto Something

I know I'm in my prime earning years, but Ricky Williams and the situation in the gulf coast has gotten me thinking. I think I'm going to have to retire. I need to pursue some of my life goals. I've always wanted to be a marksman. I mean, headshots at 1000 meters kind of marksman. I also see a lot of suffering in the world that I'd like to try to fix. So I thought, hey why not retire and tackle both at the same time. My plan is to develop a new healing philosophy that I'm going to call Ballistic Medicine. I believe, through the appropriate application of high powered projectiles, that I can cure "what ails" most people.

These might be physical pains but, more commonly, these are going to "life pain". The things that drag you down. The things that cause physical and emotional damage. In many cases just suggesting that a large caliber weapon might be able to cure them will...surprisingly...cure them. But on the occasion where the person doesn't realize the source of their pain, or if they happen to be someone's source, a small piece of metal traveling at 800m per second will usually do the trick.

If Cupid can cure a broken heart with a stupid little arrow just think what I can do with an M82A1 sniper rifle. So while I won't be smoking pot or spending time as a roadie for Lenny Kravitz, I will be practicing my skills and trying to find patients.

I'm so committed to this idea I may even think about it again tomorrow.

Death, Taxes and the Retardedness of Michael Moore

The best thing (this week) about the star of Fat Bastard: The Movie is the sheer volume of material he gives me. And I was worried about topics for this week. Let's take a close look at his recent "letter" to President Bush. Rather than craft a response to his babble I thought I'd instead comment on it point by point. Feel free to chime in with any other reactions.

================================


Dear Mr. Bush (why is it that people who don't respect the person can't respect the office? From now on I'll be calling this ass-hat 'Best Grip Mike'):
Any idea where all our helicopters are? Do I even respond to this asinine question? Yeah, that's the best way to get people out of the city....25 at a time. What a douche bag. Maybe what you should be asking is why, if there was a mandatory evacuation, was there no public transportation provided out of the area? It's Day 5 of Hurricane Katrina and thousands remain stranded in New Orleans and need to be airlifted. Where on earth could you have misplaced all our military choppers? Asked and answered. Do you need help finding them? Dude, you can't even see your toes....how are you going to help him find helicopters. I once lost my car in a Sears parking lot. Man, was that a drag. Actually Best Grip Mike, it was a KFC parking lot and you couldn't find your car because your glasses were covered in chicken grease.

Also, any idea where all our national guard soldiers are? We could really use them right now for the type of thing they signed up to do like helping with national disasters. How come they weren't there to begin with? Shockingly, these are marginally good questions...but how about this one? For the nation guardsmen that were in-state, why weren't they used to assist with the evacuation?

Last Thursday I was in south Florida and sat outside while the eye of Hurricane Katrina passed over my head. Yeah right, there's not a chance in hell you could fit inside the eye of a hurricane. Exaggerating to make a point is just silly. It was only a Category 1 then but it was pretty nasty. Eleven people died (9 of 11 died because they were stupid and hundreds of others were scared to the brink of death at seeing Best Grip Mike shirtless.) and, as of today, there were still homes without power. That night the weatherman said this storm was on its way to New Orleans. That was Thursday! Did anybody tell you? I know you didn't want to interrupt your vacation and I know how you don't like to get bad news. Plus, you had fundraisers to go to and mothers of dead soldiers to ignore and smear. You sure showed her! Hey fat-ass, last time I check the Constitution of the United States there wasn't anything in there about the federal government taking action on US soil without a request (or at least permission) from the state. You remember that concept right, States rights. In fact Amendment X simply says:

The powers not delegated to the United States by the Constitution, nor prohibited by it to the States, are reserved to the States respectively, or to the people.

You and your kind want the federal government involved in everything. But I'm pretty sure the States don't want it that way, and most intelligent people don't either. It's not the federal governments responsibility. The state and local governments are the ones that f'ed this up.

I especially like how, the day after the hurricane, instead of flying to Louisiana, you flew to San Diego to party with your business peeps. Don't let people criticize you for this -- after all, the hurricane was over and what the heck could you do, put your finger in the dike? Seriously, does it really matter where he was. I mean, yeah showing support for the situation would have been better, but are you saying that having him "on-site" would have improved the situation? Are you telling me Mike that if you were President and something like this happened that we'd be able to pry you away from the Denny's All-You-Can-Eat Seafood Buffet?

And don't listen to those who, in the coming days, will reveal how you specifically reduced the Army Corps of Engineers' budget for New Orleans this summer for the third year in a row. You just tell them that even if you hadn't cut the money to fix those levees, there weren't going to be any Army engineers to fix them anyway because you had a much more important construction job for them -- BUILDING DEMOCRACY IN IRAQ! Read me lips....local and state governments have responsibilities for their own shit!

On Day 3, when you finally left your vacation home, I have to say I was moved by how you had your Air Force One pilot descend from the clouds as you flew over New Orleans so you could catch a quick look of the disaster. Hey, I know you couldn't stop and grab a bullhorn and stand on some rubble and act like a commander in chief. Been there done that. I'm sorry Best Grip Mike. Where were you during all of this? See, that doesn't really matter either. You see in this wonderful country we call the United States, and in this great time we call the 21st century we have things like telephones, emails, and other forms of communication that enable people, like the President, to get information and give orders without actually being there.

There will be those who will try to politicize this tragedy and try to use it against you. Um...you mean like you? Don't get me wrong, the feds dropped the ball once the states asked for help; they responded far too slowly. But the extent of this disaster is placed firmly on the shoulders of the states. Just have your people keep pointing that out. Respond to nothing. Even those pesky scientists who predicted this would happen because the water in the Gulf of Mexico is getting hotter and hotter making a storm like this inevitable. Maybe if you weren't vacationing in Florida contributing all that additional hot air the gulf coast might have been spared. Interesting, maybe I should make a documentary chronicling your vacation and subsequent involvement in growing Katrina from a Cat 1 to a Cat 5 hurricane. Retarded, left-wing conspiracy freaks might be interested. Ignore them and all their global warming Chicken Littles. There is nothing unusual about a hurricane that was so wide it would be like having one F-4 tornado that stretched from New York to Cleveland. Actually fart-knocker, it would be at least an F5, but more likely an F6 tornado. If you're going to try to sound intelligent get your facts (and scales) right. You realize that your personal size scale of small, big, and "in-my-belly" doesn't work for most people. If you had a tornado that "stretched" from New York to Cleveland, the corresponding hurricane (to scale) would be ~2100 miles across. About the length of you belt. As you can guess Katrina was quite a bit smaller than that. But it should be stated that the women in your life are right, size doesn't matter. Wind speed is where it's at with tornados and hurricanes. You're such a dumb-ass.

No, Mr. Bush, you just stay the course. It's not your fault that 30 percent of New Orleans lives in poverty or that tens of thousands had no transportation to get out of town. Wow, the first correct statement he's made. Wait, was he trying to be sarcastic. He's a funny, funny (looking) man. C'mon, they're black! I mean, it's not like this happened to Kennebunkport. Can you imagine leaving white people on their roofs for five days? Don't make me laugh! Race has nothing -- NOTHING -- to do with this! I'll save my feedback here for another time.

You hang in there, Mr. Bush. Just try to find a few of our Army helicopters and send them there. Pretend the people of New Orleans and the Gulf Coast are near Tikrit. You hang in there Best Grip Mike. Just try to find a couple more (dozen) donuts and stuff them down your throat. Pretend that there aren't hungry children the world over that would gladly lick the raspberry filling off your double chin. I hope someday soon you get diabetes.

It's Only a Matter of Time

The Katrina disaster is a horrible thing. I hope everyone takes a minute to think about how they can help, give blood, donate time or money, or simply pray for those that have lost loved ones, homes, and in essence their "lives".

There have been stories of people seeing poisonous snakes and alligators in the flood waters but interestingly no sharks. No, not the ones with gills and fins. The ones with designer suits and BMWs (or those Porsche Boxsters....seriously is that the most ball-less sports car ever made? Only complete douche bags drive those things.) Yes, I'm talking about...sigh...lawyers.

It won't be long until we see their kind circling the aftermath looking for their next victim. At some point we'll see someone sue the city/state/federal government, and the local weatherman for not giving adequate warning of the impending disasters. The lawyers will site Liebeck vs. McDonalds for precedent. Someone else will sue FEMA for not "getting to them quickly enough". I actually saw some guy complaining about this on the news last night. He's standing in his completely destroyed neighborhood wondering why help hasn't arrived. Maybe, and think about this, THEY CAN'T GET TO YOU. Or maybe, THEY'VE GOT MORE PRESSING CONCERNS. You want my guess, YOU'RE ON THE A-HOLE LIST SO THEY'RE EXCLUDING YOU INTENTIONALLY. Holy crap I am so sick of people who can't do for themselves. Maybe if you'd gotten out when everyone else did you'd be watching some other a-hole on TV whining, what about me, what about me. I hate people. Let's put just the "What about me" people in the Astrodome and accidently implode it.

Then we're going to see law suits regarding looting and police brutality. Screw that. Put the police on survivor rescue ops and bring in the marines and their M16s to handled the looters. Did you see there were dumbasses stealing electronics like TVs and such. God are you stupid. Do I need to count the ways that these people didn't deserve to live through this? Great idea, how about you go back to your semi-flooded home, fire up the generator and plug in the TV. Oh, no local channels...man that's surprising. Maybe you should swim up to the roof and hook up that DirectTV dish you swiped from the house that was floating by last night. What, no signal. Damn you knew at some point a polysyllabic vocabulary would come in handy. Words like longitude, latitude, and azimuth. "Damn...well, I can play this sweet Playstation I stole. Damn I'm good." (Insert electrocution sounds here)

Blame will be leveled. People from the President on down will take heat, and our court rooms will be filled with more frivolous law suits. Did I mention how much I hate people.

It's Good to Be King...

until you gets the AIDS. This guy is a piece of work. I mean 50,000 topless women dancing for you is cool, but I think I'd also ask them to bring the report from their last trip to the clinic.

My favorite part is where he put a ban on having sex with a virgin. Then he promptly broke the law and fined himself "one cow". Now I have to ask, is this a real cow or just his way of referring to one of his older wives? Because if it's the latter, he may have finally found the holy grail of marriage, the thing that all men have considered nothing but a myth. The trade-in for a newer model deal. The bastard probably won't let anyone else in on the secret. Not that it's hard to figure out. If you rule your own country, make your own laws, and break them whenever you like my guess is he don't have much to worry about; except the AIDS. He thinks he's really smart, but he'd be better off taking no wives (okay maybe a couple once he's 45 so he can father an heir), having sex only with virgins, and then giving them a nice parting gift (but no BMWs, that's just wasteful. Give 'em a Hummer. I mean, eye-for-an-eye right?)

I have to correct the young woman quoted at the end of the article. She stated, "He is not a good leader because multiple wives can spread HIV." No I'm sorry, multiple wives can lead to chaos, mental illness, and ultimately death but not usually a sexually transmitted disease. When she gets married she'll understand.

Luckily my wife is kind, thoughtful and forgiving, I have no need for a Reed Dance. She also realizes I'm usually out of my mind when I write these things. Love you sweetie!

Boom Goes His Career in Broadcasting

If you felt bad for Ben Stiller's character in Meet the Parents then I suggest you don't watch this clip. For everyone else, this is one of the funniest things I've seen on the internet recently.

The College Sports Reporter

Did you see that kids ears light up like a cross between Dumbo and Rudolph? They were almost as red as the Colonel's stomach after that 30' belly flop (video coming soon).

I mean how could this guy not do well, he obviously has all the basic broadcasting skills:

• Sweaty palms....check
• sweet teleprompter skills....check
• quality segment to segment transitions....check
• solid paper shuffling skills....check
• catchy highlight phrases....check (or should I say "Boom")
• willing to express his attraction to professional atheletes....check
• Shatner-like dramatic pauses....check
• ability to talk in a way that makes viewers believe their media player is skipping.....check
• no problem apologizing for on the air suckitude....check
• look of complete and utter hopelessness....double check

In a related story, a Ball State college sophomore was found dead, hanging from a camera boom. Although it appears to be a suicide, police are not ruling out foul play. College officials were not available for comment.

Annoying Tread #17

Wow, it's surprising how many of the things that annoy me fall into one (or more) of these (unranked) categories:

• Advertising/Marketing
• Entertainers
• Michael Moore (he's large enough to warrant his own category)
• Bad Drivers
• Bad Food
• Smokers
• Blondes
• Bad photographers (focus and framing really do matter)
• Mint flavoring
• Radio morning shows
• People who believe that have some status in life which automatically demands respect/attention
• The Oxygen network
• Work
• Sore losers
• People who can't perform their jobs at an average level
• All people who work in food service
• Good TV shows that "jump the shark"
• Nascar
• Bad Tequila (e.g. As the Colonel says, "anything with the word 'Jose' in the name isn't good tequila.")
• Anything labeled as 'cute'
• Cell phones
• Baggy pants with visible underwear
• The Three Stooges
• The French
• "Irregardless"
• Artificial flavors
• Country music
• Rap music
• People who make lists about crap that annoys them
• software that doesn't easily allow the entry of umlots

All of these, of course, fall into the über-category of Stupidity.

So here's beef #17. Automated telemarketing. Can someone please tell me when this started. The idea that I could avoid talking to another telemarketing person is a nice idea, but not being able to figure out what they're selling or how to actually order it is annoying (and somewhat comical). Not that I'd really buy anything over the phone, but I want ability to say "No." Whether it's to a live person or a machine. I get a call the other day pitching satellite TV. So I listen to the recorded babble and then want more information. But I don't get any instructions. So I push 0. Then 1. It starts ringing. Then I get put on hold. I push more numbers. It starts ringing again. After about 3 minutes (yes I had nothing better to do), a live person answers the phone. I say hello. Pause. I hear them breathing. "Hello?" And then the male voice responded with "Hello? hello, hello......hello, hello, hello, hello........hello, hello, hello, hello....." Until, realizing that his attempt to annoy me isn't working, he hangs up. Oh, you can't out-annoy me you sausage-guzzling phone jockey. I've got mad skills.

Media of the Week

I mean, other than the potential of leaving a floater for someone else to mistake for a water-logged candy bar, I couldn't agree more. Nashua Telegraph

The French would just let this one die if Armstrong drove a tank and spoke German. But no they have to get all pissed off over a bicycle race. Interestingly, the average Frenchman might want to try steroids. I hear a cocktail of 'roids and stem cells has been shown to create spines in lab animals.

Hey Jean-Marie did anyone ever tell you that you have two girls names.

And finally, from a movie that doesn't suck.

People Are Sick: Epilogue

A while back I wrote about a software tester that used talk about herself in the third person and required us to perform "phone saves" for each other to avoid painfully long discussions with her. Here's a very funny tidbit.

One day she walks up to me and says, "Hey, I think you know my brother Scott." Hummm...Scott. I can't think of any Scott I know. Really, where would I know him from? "Oh, I'm not sure but I have a picture of him in my cube." This is were I got nervous. Getting trapped in Tracy's cube was as good as clinical brain death. Alright, let's see this mysterious Scott.

I walk into her cube to look at her wedding picture, and there he is in all his rotund glory. That crazy bastard with the Coke bottle and $600 of my money. Click. One more piece of the galactic jigsaw puzzle falls into place. A whole family of crazies. I quickly checked the floor for any signs of a two-liter Fresca bottle with used sponges in it. Phew! She must keep that at home.

So I did what any caring co-worker would do. I told everyone I could find that Tracy came from a long line of whackjobs. By the end of the day everyone in the office had heard the story of the 2-liter Coke bottle. The next morning Tracy sent out an email letting everyone know that she had made cookies, that they were in her cube, and to stop by and have one. I replied to all, "Let me know if you want any Coke with your cookies."

Interestingly enough, Tracy took a bunch of cookies home.

Where Did the Soap Go?

It used to be that when I was done doing yard work, fixing something, or simply relieving myself that I could go to the sink and find a bar of soap to wash my hands. Now my house has been invaded by Washes, Sanitizers, and crap with names I can't even pronounce.

When I stand there preparing to wash my hands I have this pump staring at me. It's filled with Mango Splash Tone Foaming Hand Wash with Cocoa Butter. Yeah, that's how I want to smell. Like I've been fondling fruit. Then there's the stuff in the other bathroom, Melon Berry Hand Sanitizer with Exfoliating Beads. I want to find the numb-nuts that started using the word "exfoliating" as a marketing tool so I can exfoliate him with my wire grill brush. This crap just looks expensive. I'm afraid that if I use more than a drop my son is going to have to get a scholarship in order to go to college. I don't need that kind of pressure. Not after I just relieved some.

What happened to man soap....bar soap. It's messy but effective. Just like men. Zest, Irish Spring and the father of all man soaps....Lava. You want to exfoliate you little marketing bitch? Here try some Lava. That crap'll even get the mustard stains off Michael Moore's face. That's soap. But we don't have soaps anymore. There's specialty goo for body parts; hand wash, face wash, foot wash. You marketing people really want to open up a new market? Start making sack wash. Make is smell like chocolate. In fact make it taste like chocolate. Then you'd be making something I guy would buy. My new rule of thumb. If glycerol isn't a by-product of making it, I'm not using it.

Men, this is a call to arms. Go to the store and buy a real, honest-to-goodness bar of soap. Actually make it two. Go home unwrap one, wash your hands with it, and then lay the sudsy bar on the counter. Scratch your crotch. Reminder yourself you're a man. Put the other one in your coat pocket. The next time you're at a dinner party and you meet someone new find out what they do. If they make, market, or sell Smelly Anti-bacterial Ass Wash with Aloe and Ginseng, take them into a corner and dry wash them with that extra bar of Lava. It'll be a liberating experience.

People are Sick!

Have you ever had that one defining moment in your life that clearly and firmly lowers your opinion of the human species? I've had several, but none so powerful or so disturbing as the one I'm about to share. This is not a story for the weak of heart (or stomach). Continue reading with caution, you have been warned.

Shortly after college I was stuck looking for a roommate. Now, as many of you know, this is worse than looking for a date. You end up with a friend of a friend of a friend that you meet and realize that a lot of those that people call friends are just drinking partners from whom they can't find a way to escape. Needless to say, I'm not friends with that person anymore.

So I get a new roommate, let's call him Scott (because that was his name). Scott was, and I put this kindly, not attractive. This unattractiveness was due in large part to his uncleanness. He looked like a cross between Drew Carey and Conan O'Brien; a red-headed porker with oily skin and a stink. Better yet, picture fat bastard with a little less weight and a central New York accent. He also had unspeakable foul habits. On top of these issues, he never seemed to have his rent or bill money on time. Ultimately the bastard ended up owing me about $600. If I thought I could track him down and beat the money (plus interest) out of him without catching a communicable disease I would stop typing and going hunting right now. But he was my only option.

Scott was a hog's man. I can't, in good conscience, use the term ladies because they were barely identifiable as human females. Most losers with even a little self-respect would have found other ways to satisfy their man-needs. But not Scott. I could count on Scott to bring home about 500 lbs. of pork a week. And he'd be all proud, "She's hot isn't she?" Yeah, hot like someone took an iron skillet to her face. Big thumbs up Scott, enjoy. You've got your hands full there. One time he stumbled out of his room early on a Sunday morning with nothing but his sheet wrapped around him. "We didn't wake you up did we?" Ahhhhh...imaginary stimulation of the visual cortex reaching critical levels. Vent the thoughts...vent the thoughts!

One day I was looking for a book, I believe it was a Physics textbook, and remembered that Scott had borrowed it. As I think back now I can't imagine why he wanted it, other than to either A) Impress the hogs, or B) disprove Newtons theory of a universal gravitation constant through empirical research with massive objects. My guess is the former.

Scott wasn't home and I really needed the book, can't remember why and you'll soon understand my memory issues surrounding the event. I opened the door to his room. It was littered wall-to-wall with garbage; dirty clothes, empty pizza boxes, and the like. Like Arthur casting his eyes upon the holy grail, I spotted the book across the room on a side table. I began to traverse the disaster area, hopeful to get in and out of the room as quickly as possible. This desire to move with speed may have been my biggest mistake. Almost to the book, my foot kicked something solid. I looked down and saw an empty two-liter Coke bottle. Or is it empty? This is the old school black plastic bottomed bottle and it looks like there is something in the bottle, but it doesn't appear to be Coke. I looked closer...that's strange. So, like the curious dumb-ass that I am, I picked it up and took an even closer look. What the hell? Are those....? I froze. Confounded. I can't really be seeing that can I? Finally instinct kicked in and I dropped the bottle faster than Palmeiro's chances for the Hall. The bottle was partially filled with used condoms.

(This is where I give you moment to recover, hope you weren't eating.)

Yes, I said USED condoms. In a two-liter Coke bottle (one-quarter filled). I grabbed the book and ran. I took a shower. I scrubbed my handed. I scrubbed my hands some more. I ate prepared foods for a week (okay I would have done that anyway). What sick f$^% thinks putting his used condoms in a Coke bottle is a good idea. Was he keeping score? Did he not understand how sperm banks work? Think about the process required for getting them in there through that little opening.

I moved out a month later. People are sick.

Movies I Couldn't Finish Watching

I've watch, at least to their credits, movies such as Ishtar, Hardware, and War of the Worlds (2005). I avoided vomiting, homocide, and acquiring a severe case of Tourettes Syndrome by trying to find some redeeming quality that will help me feel like I haven't lost two hours of my life. There are very fews movies that I've walked out of or turned off. But damn it, didn't Lucas show me new ways to make a movie suck.

We rented THX 1138: The Director's Cut. I was asleep within the first 20 minutes. I never fall asleep during movies. Can anyone guess how Lucas was allowed to make another movie after this one? I've got two words for you: Coppola and hummer. Yes I understand this was a student film with a small budget. Clerks was low budget yet somehow Kevin Smith was able to make it not suck, in fact, it's one of the greatest comedies of all time. Now there's a thought. What if Kevin Smith had written and directed the Star Wars movies. At least Return of the Jedi would have shown us what happened to the Death Star contractors.

Anyway, Lucas deserves to be beaten soundly for even releasing a Director's Cut. Seriously, how much did this movie suck before he started his dabbling. The robots look like rejects from the 2020 CHiPs academy. The dialog is vintage Lucas; stiff...like Michael Moore watching The Black Widow pound 44 lobsters in 12 minutes. I haven't cared less about the characters in a movie, since...well...Revenge of the Sith. "Oh Anakin." Damn, I think I just threw up a little in my mouth. Hey is that a refried bean? Oh and the "artistic" soundtrack. Minimal (but crappy) dialogue, and a bunch of background noise made of partial airport voices, and pre-R2D2 computer beeps. I think I even heard the sound of someone putting on knee pads.

I went to Amazon to see what other people thought of the movie. Not that I care what other people think but to find more material. Most of those nut sacks give the movie a 4 or 5 star rating and explain it away with stupid statements like "if you consider that this was Lucas' first actual feature out of film school, you got to give him a lot of credit for it." Um...no I don't, the movie blows. Gee, that meal tasted like ass...but given that it's the cooks first night it wasn't really that bad. Giving a rating based solely on the skill of the Writer/Director is retarded. People are such Lemmings. And then there's the tard who says, "This is a great movie!" but gives it a 1 because it's not out on DVD yet. Head shaking alone cannot convey my amazement.

What movies have you turned off/walked out of? Not that I care. I'm just looking for more material.

Deliverance

"You sure got a pur'ty mouth!"

That's right, we'd headed for the mountains and all the dangers therein. Locals, bears, and drunken stupors. I may be able to sneek a post in before we leave but if not have a good week and work on getting yourselves to Level 5.

Level 5

Continued from Level 4.

So you walked the hot coals of corporate incompetence. You've been engulfed in the flames of ass-hattedness. You've snatched the golden Idol of Sanity from the tomb of upper management. You've seriously considered starting a fight club at work and inviting a few special people. But you haven't been able to bring yourself to end the relationship.

Flipping off [insert asinine co-worker here] would be deeply satisfying. Emailing the entire company with all the stupid decisions you've seen (and would change) seems like a brilliant idea. But you can't seem to bring yourself to add your John Hancock to a document stating all the reasons that your job and employer sucks and why you're going to begin your online professional poker career. There's something that keeps you. Maybe it's the people (the non-stupid ones anyway). Maybe it's the money, security, or the hot girl in logistics. Something prevents you from "burning your bridges" and walking out the door. [Editors Note: "Burning bridges" is a stupid metaphor. If I was going to burn anything before I left a job it would be the people I couldn't stand.]

So, there you are at level 4 (or maybe 2 or 3). Trying to make sense of it all. Unable to find any level of satisfaction in the job you used to enjoy. It's time to take action. Problem is, you've got to find your own way to Level 5. You're not going to find it on Google Maps, even though it looks like they've got everything else. Unlike some of the transitions between other Levels, attaining Level 5 is not automatic. You have to work at it. Someday I might write a book about the transition. I'd call it "Sacred Level 5: Spirtual Lessons of a Cubicle Warrior." (I stole that idea from Phil Jackson. The only thing better than stealing from Phillip would be kicking him in the genitals.)

Level 5 is a state of mind that is hard to explain. In fact, it may be something different to each person. No, none of that Zen crap. Just a different way of viewing the drudgery of your daily work life. Level 5 is about being able to look at the idiocy around you without it adversely affecting you. I say "adversely" because ideally you'll be able to look at the situations, which at Level 4 you were thinking WTF, and respond with "Wow, that's messed up....but funny". Then you laugh. You laugh at the situation, at the people, and about how none of it really matters.

Find the humor in everything. If you get stuck cleaning up someone elses' mess don't get mad at him. Just laugh and think, "Man, at least I don't have man boobs like that tool." Humor is the great equalizer and is the critical component to a successful life at Level 5.

So although I can't tell you how to get there. I can give you an idea of how you can tell if you've made it:

• If anyone mentions HR your first thought is that Derrick Lee hit another one


• You want to be involved with the new project because you want to witness the carnage from the inside


• You're disappointed each morning you swipe your security card and the door actually opens...maybe tomorrow


• You no longer complain about work to your spouse or friends


• You're spouse or friends ask you if you've gotten a new job


• You are no longer annoyed by slackers, in fact, you start checking out their techniques


• Rather than stewing over stupid work crap you spend your free moments blogging


• When asked why you're still working here, you response simply with, "If I leave, who's going to turn off the lights and lock the door when this place goes under." or "Are you kidding me, THIS is reality TV. Hey where's my video camera?"


• You watch Office Space and laugh. Not because you empathize, because it's funny

And speaking of Office Space, the attitude that Peter had after his encounter with the hypnotherapist is what you should strive for. Level 5 has gotten me through a lot of tough situations. So much so that when people ask how I'm doing, pretty much the only truthful response is, "Well, I haven't been arrested."

Level 5: Gone are the feelings of helplessness, anger, frustration, and utter disillusionment. In is a calm, matter-of-fact, "what crazy sh$% am I going to see today" attitude. You desire to experience work from a higher place as if the building were a giant habitrail. Many will take your attitude for a lack of caring. But it's really more that you're resigned to the outcome that fate has determined; satisfied with the front-row seat that's been gifted to you. Humor is cog to the Level 5 machine, without which there is no outlet. The simple things at work keep you going, bad decisions, faux pas [damn, I used another french term], and other people's pain. These are the things that keep you going. Consume them like Michael Moore eats Little Debbie Snack Cakes, but without all the crumbs.