Well the votes are in and we only ended up with three very questions selections.
"Dubyah", Bill "Here have my cigar" Clinton, and Oprah Cow all made the top ten. Yes, that's the top ten all-time greatest Americans. Excuse me...I think I just threw up a little in my mouth.
Continued from Level 1.
I think I can summarize Level 2 with one word: People. Okay, I've been accused of being too much of a generalist, so let's use two words: Stupid People. I'm fairly certain that without them, none of us would ever realize that Level 2 even existed. Stupid people are the red pill to our Level 1 Matrix. Their presence makes us aware that we are, in fact, stuck in a real world with real people...and they suck. You know who I'm talking about:
Now, if done properly my co-worker would have begun a conversation on the phone (with no one) and simply cupped the mouth piece, looked over his shoulder and said, "I have to take this." The pain would have ended. Unfortunately it went something like this: "Hmphf, no one there." Click. The droning begins again. I hang my head. Apparently he wasn't around for the last three phone saves.
It's obvious to me that the phone save was simply a mechanism I created to make myself feel like I could take back some of what I lost when I left Level 1. Stupid people really annoy me, doubly so at work. Guns....I'm going to need lots of guns. I had to take the fight to them or lose my sanity. Problem was I didn't fully understand there were other Matrices, other Levels. I heard footsteps....the agents were coming. Do you here that? It's the sound of inevitability. It's the sound of Level 3.
Level 2: The introduction of people, their problems, their idiosyncrasies, and their stupidity creates an unstable and frustrating work environment. Daily interactions with these people begin to unravel the foundation of your Level 1 Nirvana. Getting out of bed in the morning becomes more of a challenge. Your lunch breaks are spent googling "legal rulings on justifiable homicide". You look for projects to keep yourself busy to avoid small talk with the riff-raff. Although you still enjoy it, work seems more like work.
On to Level 3
Okay, I've made my fair share of posts but it's time this blog got a little more interactive. There are some topics covered that should really be generating more conversation than I'm seeing. All I'm get is the semi-intelligable ramblings of some ex-army guy who knows how to kill people 6 ways to Sunday but is afraid of the water.
Come on people. Drop me a comment, let me know what you think. I want to know you opinion. Unless your opinion is wrong in which case just post someoneelses opinion that doesn't suck so much. Wait, on second thought, post your opinion so I can, in the immortal words of Triumph, "poop on it!"
This guy has huge cajones and I wish I'd thought of it first. We know this will never get anywhere but I can only hope it sends a message to Souter and the other judges that this ruling could affect anyone, anywhere.
I bet a vacation to Weare next fall would be beautiful? Sounds like a nice quiet, out of the place. Like someplace where people retire. Good Luck Logan.
A continuation of The Five Levels.
So there you are sitting in a cube, or office, or wherever you are required to stand, sit or lie down to complete the tasks given to you by your employer. You think back just a few weeks to the interview you had. Damn were those some stupid questions. They've got no idea if I can do this job or not. [The interviewing process in America is very interesting. Interviewers aren't trying to find Mr. Right. They're simply trying to make sure they don't hire Mr. Wrong. Most questions are designed to trip people up and mark them as unworthy. People aren't looking for the right answers, they just want to make sure you don't answer it incorrectly. I call it negative interviewing and it happens everywhere. But, that's a topic for another blog.]
So there you are, first day on the job. You've got your mug and a blank stare. If you're lucky you got a tour of the building. Maybe even a bagel. And, if you're really, really lucky...some form of new employee orientation. But it's like your first day of high school. Everything seems larger than life and no one will talk to you. Well, some will but only because they're being paid. You're given some reading material, and a couple of menial tasks. It'll be a couple of weeks...days...hell it's the 21st century, you'll get a couple of hours before you get thrown to the wolves. But you don't care. You look down and the grass is green. I mean really green, like....um...grass (damn, I almost slipped up and used a golf reference...I hate golf).
You look around and everything sparkles. It's new. It's amazing. You think back and realize how much you don't miss that crap job you left for this cushy number. You think about how much you wanted to flip-off your old boss and tell him where he can stuff his TPS reports. But everyone told you, "Don't do it...you don't want to 'burn any bridges'."...air quotes and all. Damn that guy annoyed me. But I don't have to deal with him anymore. You push your chair back, lock your fingers, and wrap your hands around your head. This is a damn fine job. After a five minute day dream about fire bombing your old place of employment you get back to reading the company policies and procedures, Chapter 5: Procurement. Why the hell can't they just call it Purchasing Crap You Need to Do Your Job. Can't wait for my first project so I can show 'em some skills. Life is good.
Day 1 ends and you pack up to leave. You realize you really didn't get much done, but you did see an attractive woman walking back and forth to the printer so the day wasn't a complete waste. You tell everyone you see what a kick ass new job you have and how, once you get settled in, you'll see if there are any opening for them. The guy at the 7-Eleven seems skeptical. You play cards with your friends. You tell them about "printer girl". "What's her name?" one of them asks. Shut up dude, it was only the first day. They remind you about your last girlfriend. Even the mentioning of her name doesn't bring you down. One of them asks if he can ask her out since you're done with her. When you don't leap across the table to throttle him your friends look at each other, utterly amazed. Just days before you'd have been on him like Michael Moore on cheese fries. Things are looking up. You win $30. You sleep like a baby.
After the first week you've got your first project and things are going great. It's exciting and interesting work. Your co-workers have new, fresh perspectives. You find you're spending less and less time day dreaming about fire bombing your old place of employment. You've struck up you first conversation with "printer girl", and you didn't strike out. She even likes sports. You pinch yourself (after she's left of course) just to make sure this isn't like that Alyssa Milano dream you had a couple of weeks back. Nope this is real. Damn! You realize you forget to ask "printer girl" her name. It's the first thing that's gone wrong in days. But you're not worried. Things are falling into place.
You finish your first project. By company standards it's successful. You and your team get rave reviews and kudos (whatever the hell they are) from all over the company. As you bask in the glow of your own accomplishments...you smile...realizing that this place, this building, these people give you a feeling on contentment. Nothing can piss on your parade. Life is good.
And then somehow, without warning (like Ewoks from the forest),you reach level 2.
Level 1: The feeling in which the job you have is the best job you could ask for and that you are perfectly suited to fulfill the responsibilities it requires of you. The work you do seems meaningful and you are accepted and appreciated by your peers and management. You are unaware of any negative issues. You feel the pay and benefits are excellent. Life is good.
On to Level 2
For all that is good and historic about our country, what the hell is going on here? This is the best example I've seen that the American media (and to a lesser extent the American public) puts way too much emphasis on celebrities.
Here is the nomination list for Discovery Channel's Greatest American. What a festering pile of dog crap. I looked up the word nomination just to make sure I didn't miss something during 5th-grade class elections. I didn't. It does, in fact, require someone to "propose for an honor" an individual. I think it's obvious by the list that some of the nominators weren't too clear on the honor in question. Below I've broken the list down (with examples) into three categories. Those that:
I'll label this category of individuals as the "Ass Goblins Not Worthy of Nomination." Now, to try to make some sense of this last group, I'll also add, in parentheses, the honor or award I believe the misinformed or confused individuals who nominated them must have been considering when they threw the name in the proverbial hat.
Let me break it down for you. We have the gimmees (notice I can use just their last names and people know who I'm talking about....hummmmm...):
So I have this theory.
[I'll let you in on a little secret. Many of my friends and family already know this. Often times I'll make "statements" that people assume are facts. Even though they're what I would consider an educated guess. Now I assume this is because I say them with conviction (which I often do), or because they assume I know what I'm talking about. This works out pretty well for me in many cases but occasionally gets me into trouble. But, hey they're the ones that are believing what I'm saying right? Which reminds me of a great quote from a brilliant mind, Jack Handey, "Broken promises don't upset me, I just think, why did they believe me?"
I often take flack for my so called "statements" so let me be clear, THIS IS SIMPLY A THEORY. But it's a good one, trust me.]
The general theory goes like this: At any point in time during your employment in a specific job, you will fall into one of five levels with respect to your overall job satisfaction and attitude towards said job.
Now, it's important to understand, before you read any further, the knowledge about to be imparted should not be taken lightly and may forever alter your perspective and attitude towards your current (and future) job.
Over the next few days I'll cover each level in detail and at the end I'll give you my idea of which level(s) is the best and maybe even some pointers on how to get there. And if you don't like the fact that I'm breaking this up over several posts, too bad. I'm trying to maintain level 5 here.
Another sign Jack Handey and I connect.
"I'm just guessing here, but probably one of the early signs that your radarscope is wearing out is something I call 'image fuzz-out.' But I've never even seen a radarscope, so I wouldn't totally go by what I've just said here." --Jack Handy
As you can see, he's just a bit more upfront than I am.
On to Level 1
When asked about his recent encounter on the red carpet, Tom Cruise simply responded, "It's not the first shot to the face I've taken and it won't be the last."
I always thought he said "bo-staff skills," but it is in fact "bow-hunting skills". Must be my male-donimated desire to memorize quotes from solid but not spectacular movies is on the fritz.
About every six months or so I'll get into a discussion with someone, an individual or a group, regarding whether or not certain activities should be considered a sport. Initially I thought we could come up with a small set of criteria to measure each activity to determine if it's worthy of the Sport label. It's not as easy as you might think. My guess is that the final criterion will be very extensive, very expensive, and take years to fully document and understand (sort of like the human genome). But hey, who cares. This is an important subject that could have far-reaching impact on future generations. Let's just borrow a little money from the Social Security program to get this project jump-started. So here they are, the first documented rules (from me) regarding the Great Sport or Not Debate.
1. Baseball, Football, Basketball and Hockey are sports. Period. No debate. If you question them, you might as well question the value of the Constitution of the United States....What? Are you kidding me. Get the hell out of my country you commie pinko.
2. Using the equipment of a verified sport (e.g. baseball bat, football, puck, etc.) in your activity does not make it a sport. For example: playing HORSE isn't a sport just because you're shooting a basketball.
3. Violence in the activity does not automatically guarantee that it's a sport, but we can overlook several rules violations if there's enough of it.
4. Coverage on ESPN does nothing to validate the activity. ESPN is the new MTV. A great idea gone bad because some idiot felt the need to broaden their appeal. It's simple ESPN: read the scores, show the highlights and broadcast the live sporting events. As much as I love poker, it's not a freakin' sport. Billiards...I don't care. Gone are the personalities and funny commercials. All we're left with is...well...Monday Night Football and a bunch of crappy "game" shows. Pardon This Interruption, you suck! You're still the best we Sports junkies have, but you suck!
5. Just because the people that participate in an activity are athletic doesn't mean it's a sport (and vice versa). Please see Cecil Fielder and Brian Boitano.
6. If your opponent is an inanimate object, it's not a sport. For example: Golf.
7. If the people you are playing with or who are watching can't taunt you, it's not a sport. For example: Golf.
8. Any activity with a penalty box is a sport. Seriously, add a penalty box to Figure Skating and I'll consider it.
9. Just because it's an Olympic event doesn't mean it's a sport. That's why they call them EVENTS and not SPORTS. See Trampoline and Synchronized Swimming.
10. Anything where you can't make at least $100,000 a year as a professional probably isn't a sport (Hockey has a special exclusion from this rule).
11. NASCAR is not a sport (It needed it's own rule).
12. Just because there is a sanctioning body doesn't mean it's a sport. For example: Competitive Eating has the International Federation of Competitive Eating or IFOCE. Enough said.
13. If taking the "Juice" won't help you in the activity, it's not a sport.
14. Activities that are really funny to watch, although I want them to be sports, aren't guaranteed the Sport label. For example: Curling.
15. Killing a wild animal such as a leopard with your bare hands is not only a sport, but it's awe inspiring. Doing it's at 73 automatically gets you into the Hall of Fame.
Today started like any other day, well, any work day anyway. The morning was okay except for a couple "encounters" that left me feeling like Dennis Miller at a Three Stooges Festival. But right after lunch I get this really strong desire to take a nap. I mean this is not your normal I'm bored at work kind of feeling. This is the Maximum Strength, did I really just drink a half a bottle of spiced rum kind of tired. It felt (as if I know how it feels) like I a got a sudden attack of Spontaneous Comatosis, better known as "Dailor Disease".
So as I decide how best to avoid breaking my keyboard (and my teeth) should my chin fall off my hand, I close my eyes and try to figure out what could have caused it. I had Thai for lunch. Maybe some MSG, but no tryptophan. Feeling sleepy.....can't focus.....If Michael Jackson became a priest, would the pedophilia cancel itself out? What exactly is the "Power of Brown" and do I want anything to do with it? Drew Carey sure would make a good Dilbert. What would be the socio-economic fallout of rednecks finding out that professional wrestling is real, and NASCAR is fake?.....zzzzzzzz......
We got home from volleyball last night and happened to stumble onto USA where they were showing the AFI Lifetime Achievement Award ceremony for George Lucas. Now I have my issues with Lucas regarding his writing and directing, but there is no question the man has influenced generations, and changed the face of movies forever.
We only saw part of it, but the roast by Carrie Fisher was one of the funniest I've ever heard. The rest of his movie leads as well as others such as Tom Hanks and William Shatner (apparently he does a dance number with a bunch of stormtroopers) also spoke.
One of my favorite highlights was the story retold by Harrison Ford. One day, while shooting, he walked by to George and said, "George, you can type this s%&@, but you can't speak it."
Replays on USA Network:
June 25, 2am
June 26, 9am
There's also another AFI event tonight on CBS, the Top 100 Movie Quotes of All-time. Should be fun.
Generally, I recommend not giving notice or quitting your job until after you've passed the drug, psychology, or other mandatory tests for your potential new employer. Nothing screams "Dumbass" louder than quitting your job before you find out that you've got a weakness for tall blonde women from Scandinavia who enjoy long walks on the tarmac and mixing up sweet smelling soaps in their basements. This type of fetish will make you a major risk for that job at the local defense contractor and may draw the attention of Homeland Security.
I recommend instead a simple application and a handshake at you local fast food establishment or e-learning company. "Would your like fries [online books] with that?"
When I started this whole thing I figured I would get a couple of laughs (because, like Dennis Miller, I believe it's a lot of fun to laugh at your own material) and have a little fun posting the thoughts that ramble around in my head. Next thing you know, I have over 100 page views. Now mind you, some of those are me verifying the site after a post, and some of them are probably Col. Mustard who accidentally selected the bookmark for Sarcasm Inc instead of his intended left-handed web site of the week, but still, people are actually reading this silly thing.
Hello...McFly? Most of you know who's writing this stuff and yet you still come to read it. This must be what Lucas feels like most of the time. Well, if you keep reading I'll keep writing.
And, fathers, welcome back to reality. Hope you had a great day and that you were able to celebrate it with the children you know you have. I've been working with Hallmark to create Who's My Father's Day (sponsored by the NBA) where "father-less" children everywhere can have their own special day to pester their mothers about who their father is, and why they're 6 feet tall in the 5th grade. Since most of these kid's birthdays are in the off-season, Hallmark is thinking that a corporate sponsorship of All-Star weekend would bring a nice balance to the children's lives and would work nicely as a lead in for this new holiday.
Having kids you don't know about is Fantastic.
I had a speaker in my SUV fixed (I think) today, under warranty. I took it to the dealer where I bought the vehicle, but it wasn't the first time I had it in to have the speaker fixed. Actually it was the fifth time.
Visit 1: Took vehicle to shop. Told the "Service Manager" that there was a buzzing from the speaker area that I thought was a torn speaker, loose bolt, or some such thing. The Repair "Technician" determined that the speaker was damaged (must be too much Recliners at 18 volume).
Visit 2: Two weeks later I get a post card in the mail that my part was in and to please call for an appointment. It almost got chucked as junk mail. I make the appointment and take in the SUV. "Oh, we're sorry we received the wrong part." Sigh.
Visit 3: Get a call, right part is in. I want to schedule the appointment to coincide with the upcoming oil change. "I'm sorry, if we don't get the part installed soon our parts department will have to send it back." If only I had a job where I could wreak havoc with peoples day-to-day lives. "Fine, how about next Monday? Great. Yes, I can leave it."....[Next Monday]...."I'm sorry, we got the right part but for the wrong door." Then what you're telling me is.....you got the wrong part. Am I missing how the fact that the part is either the right one or the wrong one is based on something other than if it fixes the problem?
[One month later]
Visit 4: [Voice mail]"blah, blah,blah your part is in. Please give us a call to schedule an appointment."...beep....[*]...[6]....Get Bent.
[One week later]
Another voice mail. "Our parts department will have to...blah, blah, blah." Even equipped with my trusty sarcasm I am unprepared to defend myself from the "we'll be forced send your part covered under warranty back to the manufacturer" speech. I schedule the appointment.
me:"Are you sure you have the right part this time?"
them: "Well, we can't be sure until we take it out of the box and attempt to put it in."
me: "You can't? Isn't there a part number or a picture book or some method of divination you could use? Maybe you could take it out of the box before I come in to make sure it's not broken, or reeking of urine, or something?"
[Okay, I didn't really say that but it's what I wanted to say. My real response:]
me: "Sure, yeah I understand. How's Thursday look for you?"
[Today]
Visit 5: I drop the SUV off. They tell me it'll be ready by 11. I get a voice mail: "blah, blah....Just wanted to let you know your speaker is fixed. It was the right part this time. Oh by the way, you'll be receiving a warranty service survey from Nissan, I know we had a couple of issues getting the right part, but I hope you can rate our service as "Excellent."
Sad part is, about halfway through this ordeal the speaker stopped buzzing so I can't even tell if they actually put in a new one.
[Next Week]
Hey, where's the "Piss Poor" checkbox on this survey?
If you've got a craptacular customer service story please share it with the rest of us using the cool comments link below.
Ah, I can only dream of some day being this funny and this fast on my...um...paws.
Triumph visits the Michael Jackson trial.
These are the people I would go to prison over if I ever saw them doing something like this. If I'm the parent of the child that was not hers, I'm renting a car, shoving Lorena Lucas in a trunk, and driving straight to the fast ferry terminal. Then I get out, rap on the trunk and say, "I'll be back for the next ferry trip. You dumb b^$@%."
Had a recent discussion with my wife and a friend about classic comedies. Fact: Real Genius, although a funny movie, is not a classic comedy. Fact: This is a classic comedy.
This should only be considered a sport if they have snipers placed along the race path. There aren't many animals that I would personally like to help towards extinction but this is one of them. We had a lot of them at our old house and we thought we escaped them when we moved. Doesn't one show up and land in our pine tree while we're sitting on the porch. The thing just starts cooing at me like, "ha, found you."
Which reminds me of my best pigeon story ever. One day in the middle of winter I see, through our family room window, a fat (Ophra fat) hawk sitting on a tree branch. I think to myself, how is that thing so fat? I see him several times over the next several weeks until one day, after the snow had melted, I was walking down the driveway to get the mail. As I pass the area where the pigeons roost on the phone lines I look underneath a small pine shrub. And there is the most beautiful thing I've seen all year...a little pigeon grave yard. Bones and feathers everywhere. The remains of many pigeons. It was fantastic (more like NBA fantastic than Fantastic Four fantastic). I knew immediately how our neighborhood hawk was maintaining that Michael Moore waistline. It was a very happy day for me.
I'm only going to talk about this once.
We, as the citizens of this country, have a responsibility to ensure that we don't flush it down the toilet for our children. Well guess what, the tank has already started to empty. We each have to do our part, and it starts today. There are probably dozens of things we can do to improve the quality of life for ourselves, those around us, and future generations, but I'm going to focus on one of them today.
Please, stop giving a rat's ass about anyone you might categorize as a "celebrity." Enough is enough. I didn't care about Ben and JHo. I don't care about Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes. I don't care about their personal lives or their political views. I don't care who or what they worship or how they lost 15 pounds. And you shouldn't either.
So the next time you see a news (sic!) link with a headline of "Is Britney expecting a girl?", or "Is Eminem poking fun at Olsen twins?" STOP. Do not click the link. Ask yourself, "Is knowing the answer to this asinine question going to make me a better person?" If you answer yes, then get the hell out of my blog, you're an sad, sad person. If you answered no we may still have hope.
Then of course we have all these "personalities" who feel it's their right/responsibility/higher calling/job to educate the rest of us on what's morally right and wrong and what needs to be changed either on a national or international scale. Michael Moore...bite me (on second thought don't; it looks like you've bitten enough people all ready). I don't care what you think. Chuck Heston, take your rifles and shove them up you arse. Actually, Michael...
Chuck... I believe you've met already. Michael take a bit out of Chuck (It's soylent green!). Chuck show Michael the business end of your rifle. We'll all be better off for that celebrity death match.
Can someone please explain to me the desire of the average American to know what movie stars, pro athletes, and musicians do and think. Now you might say, "But Uncle Jimbo, just yesterday you posted a link to a blog by Ronald Moore. Are you playing favorites?" And I would response, "Wow, that was almost a good point, expect for the fact that the blog you're referring to is all about Ron's job (e.g. Battlestar Galactica). Now shut up and keep reading."
It's not that they don't have good and bad opinions like the rest of us. It's that they, and the media, feel that they are somehow more qualified to speak on the matter. As you can see, I'm not singling out conservatives or liberals, pop stars or talk show hosts. I'm also not saying they need to keep their opinions to themselves. I'm saying average-Joe American needs to stop caring about what happens to "America's royalty."
Repeat after me, I don't care:
or even
For those of you that don't know, I'm a big Ronald Moore fan. He's done great work on Star Terk and now Battlestar Galactica. They've begun work on BSG season 2 and here is Ron's blog regarding the show.
Enjoy.
We watched this movie again the other night. After seeing it the first time I was fairly certain it wouldn't be any good again because the secret is out (sort of like The Sixth Sense). But I was wrong, I've seen it a couple times more and there are so many little elements that you don't pick up in the first viewing. I'd recommend watching it again. If only I'd said something this sarcastic. This one is for you Dutch.
Damn streaker, I wanted to hear the rest of this report!
Now I present the Asshat of the Week Award...(drum roll)...and the winner is Onterrio Smith. Apparently his appetite for the wacky weed is as big as a great lake (or Canadian province). "It's my cousins....yeah, that's it."
Which brings us to the Product of the Week: The Whizzinator.
Hello, I'm Ted Chopel. In this installment of Point/Counter Point we'll be bringing in a guest debater (dare I call him a master?), Colonel Dutch Mustard to address the Counter Point, why censorship is not acceptable in an America founded on freedom of speech and a strong desire to flip-off the royals. Dutchy, as his friends call him, has recently had a blog comment removed for inappropriate and offensive content.
Opposing him is our own Uncle Jimbo with his views on why censorship is sometimes a necessary evil in modern America where pornography, violence, and the inane ramblings of Hollywood personalities and make-believe personae are so readily accessible
to small children and the below-average American. Uncle Jimbo was the blog admin responsible for removing said comment.
Uncle Jimbo, it's your blog, you have the floor.
Thank you Ted. Let me start by saying that the decision to remove Colonel Mustard's post was not made easily. This is after all a free country and I strongly support the idea of freedom of speech. However I do have two general rules with which I will censor the comments and posting on this blog, and should these rules be broken I will undoubtedly be forced to remove the offensive content.
Rule 1.
Potentially offensive material will not be censored assuming it A) makes a point, B) is somewhat amusing, and C) doesn't suck (and there's the rub).
I'm not opposed to risque content, but it's got to have some redeeming value. Even this last sentence borders on inappropriate content since I had to resort to using a French word to make my point.
Rule 2.
I decide whether something makes a point, is amusing, and doesn't suck.
This rule is similar to my controversial view on improving the quality of life through mandatory sterilization of stupid people. In my thesis paper on the subject, I state simply:
"Stupid is defined as anyone not passing the Am I Worthy of Procreating
test. This test is designed, delivered, and graded by me. Period, no exceptions. Everyone lineup, single file."
To Whom it Does Concern:
Without getting too graphic, there are those of you out there that are habitual toilet paper abusers. You know who you are. You grab the end of the roll and spin it like you're the final contestant on the Price Is Right spinning the big wheel in hopes of winning some lame dining room set. Then you do this repeatedly like Barry Bonds going yard in the home run derby at the 2004 "Juicers" convention.
Either:
A. You have a neurosis regarding the cleanliness of your posterior,
B. You have a medical condition, such as IBS, causing undo stress on your trips to the bathroom
C. YOU HAVEN'T FINISHED!
Regardless of the reason please, seek help and respect the toilet paper.
Why do we expect so little of our meteorologists? I know we all laugh about it, but why is it acceptable for them to be so wrong so often, and we all just laugh it off. Hell, I get more upset about mistakes at a McDonald's drive-thru and it's just freakin' fast food. We're talking about a profession that gets excited when they're right 50% of the time.
Yesterday was forecasted to be warm (low to mid-80s) with scattered thunderstorms. It was 93 degrees and not a cloud in the sky. How can you be off by 10+ degrees? In upstate New York with the temperature this time of year is between 35-95 that's a 16% margin for error. And don't even get me started on precipitation. I mean, they went to school for this right? What was the Freshman Orientation class like?
"Look around you, not only is there a 100% chance of you all being here in four years, but there will also be scattered additions from other degree programs. We've got it cushy and everyone knows it. Okay, so let's learn the secret handshake...."
Before I go on, let's get this out of the way. Repeat after me, "The third rule of Project Mayhem is never call weathermen meteorologists." The term meteorologist adds far too much credibility to the profession. It's very scientific sounding. There's more science involved in working a deep fryer at Wendy's. And ladies, don't be offended that I didn't use the term weatherperson, I didn't want to inappropriately categorize you (wow, it this going to generate flame mail).
As I sat in the backyard yesterday and had heat-induced hallucinations I envisioned the day my son comes home from school and I ask him what he did. "I decided, when I grow up, I want to be a meteorologist!" Why not go ahead and just tell me you want to play soccer and you'd prefer to go to the all-boys school. Make it the trifecta for your old man. It seems to be there are a number of professionals that get a bum rap compared to the devil science. So here is my first Top Five List of the blog, dedicated to our weathermen.
Top Five Professions That Don't Seem To Get More Respect Than Weathermen But Should
5. Advertising Executive (sure, they can suck a lot, but when they don't I usually get a laugh. I never get a laugh from the weatherman).
4. Teacher/Professor (Respect the good ones and teach your children to do the same. Treat the bad ones like weathermen.)
3. Project Manager (Oh, sorry. I thought this was the list of professions that should get less respect than weathermen.)
2. Actor/Actress (Oops, ditto)
1. Prostitute (Assuming you pay them enough they're "right" 99.9% of the time)
There's a 50% chance I'll blog again tomorrow.
Dear Mr. Berman,
You SUCK. Don't get me wrong. This is not the minor suckage you feel when you stub your toe, drop your ice cream cone, or get slapped by a girl for making an inappropriate comment about her sister. This is major suckage like when you finally admit to yourself that George Lucas can't write a lick of dialog, you realize today's pro athletes can't get by without a morning shot in the ass of something from modern medical science, or some IQ-challenged Fox executive didn't think FireFly had what it takes to be a successful television drama.
Star Trek is dead, and you are the triggerman. You brought about the downfall of one of the best and most profitable media franchises ever. How's that feel? If Mr. Roddenberry were still alive I can only believe he would have bitch-slapped you out the Paramount doors long ago. Why the other Paramount executives haven't done the same for your ineptness is beyond me.
I'm not going to get into the grueling details regarding your short-comings as a writer and producer, but I could. I'll simply say that you took a great thing and pissed it away. Every time you got closely involved in a series it died a slow, painful death. The movies, generally, were nothing but poorly constructed episodes. It's only due to some of the excellent talent around you that things weren't worse.
And then came Enterprise, the show that would revive the franchise. It was a great idea; tell the story of the beginning of the Federation. But you Berman'ed* it. A temporal cold war? You and your staff had virtually limitless story possibilities and the best you could come up with is another time travel plot line? You are an idiot.
Now let me get to the point. I am asking, no I'm begging (but I'm not going to take back anything I've said so far, so don't ask) for you to not be directly involved in any future Star Trek projects. Find someone talented, like Ronald Moore, to lead and manage the next project (if there is one). Have you see Battlestar Galactica? It's what Enterprise could have been. Compelling characters, interesting stories, and cool (but not overstated) special effects. I hope you lie awake at night thinking about what it could have been.
I hate you.
Sincerely,
Uncle Jimbo
P.S. There is an error on the StarTrek.com web site. It has you mistakenly listed as "Creator" and not "Destroyer".
P.P.S. Please do not get involved in the following television shows (they don't suck!):
24
Lost
Battlestar Galactica
Alias (although current plot trends lead me to believe you may already be dabbling)
* Berman'edTM: The 21st-century equivalent to "Jumping the Shark"
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