27% of Americans Don't Have The Credit to Buy a Clue

People are so stupid, uneducation, and uninformed. Here is a quote from a Glenn Beck interview of a pollster.

"RASMUSSEN: You know, we just did a poll and we found out that about 38% blame the Bush administration for our problems with the economy right now, 27% blame congress, 11% blame the Clinton administration, you know."

Yes, only 27% of this country blames congress. Holy crap. This is what we have to fix. We have to education, inform, and roshambo these doltsuntil they understand who is to blame.

Here's Uncle Jimbo's percentages:
70% Congress
20% Fed
10% President (Bush, Clinton, FDR, Nixon, etc.)

Now, you could consider the Fed number in with the president, but I prefer to call them out seperately because stupid is as stupid does.

Elliott Spitzer: Tax Reform Expert

Apparently, Spitzer has some additional explaining to do. This new IT-201 New York State Tax (long) form is new for 2007 tax returns. Oh come on Elliott.

I bet your wife really regrets the day, back when you were the attorney general, when she said, "Elliott, don't you think you're coming down a little hard on the prostitutes?"

ba dum bah!

I Knew It! Jeff Cook Does Love the Purple Penetrator

A 13-year-old student in Ohio was suspending for doing what 43% of all 13 year olds do: pull pranks, make sex jokes, and disrespect authority figures. So how exactly can the school justify expelling the kid? And how close to the truth must M.O. have gotten for Principle Jeff Cook to get so bent? These are the questions that apparently only our legal system can answer.

Seriously Jeff. One of two things has happened:

A. You had no idea when you got into education that kids think all teachers and principals are dicks or bitches. Now your entire view of the public education system, society, and our children is forever tainted.

or

B. You understand kid's views on teachers and principles and you're just too much of a hard ass to handle this in the proper way (sans the Purple Penetrator). A good principle, like Ed Rooney, would let this one go. Then, with hope-filled anticipation, you'd wait for the future felon to make a mistake on school grounds.

Alas, there are not enough Ed Rooney's in the world. Welcome to the 21st century Mr. Cook, you ass-grabbing, dildo-loving pedophile. You should have left this disciplinary matter to the parents. Who in turn should have put down their Old Milwaukees, turned off the TV, and explained to little M.O. exactly why what he did was disrespectful, inappropriate, and just plain wrong. How this type of thing gets into our court systems is beyond me.

What we have here are multiple nominations for asshat of the week.

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!

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.

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.

Hun and Karen, the Hacks

Who are Hun and Karen you ask. Hun is the soon-to-be-unemployed chef from the soon-to-be-out-of-business Bay Tree Cuisine. Unlike most restaurant reviews I'll give you the ass-kicking summary first and then bore you with the painful details. But I'm not going to use gay adjectives like delicate, pastel, or harmonious.

My Review of Bay Tree Cuisine

Overall rating: -2 (out of 5)
Atmosphere: Thin, like SR-71 thin
Service: I've had better service at a narcoleptic whore house
Menu: If you can look past the boring stark-white paper, black text and minimalistic descriptions it only sucked a little
Food Presentation: Yawn
Food uality: (Notice there's no 'Q' in quality...you get my point)
Food Taste: Slightly above what you'd get from the buffet at the downtown Hyatt

And Karen is...Karen Deyle a freelance restaurant critic who writes for the local paper. Hey, you stupid b!^*$, people do actually read your reviews. Being so far off on this one cost us $160 for four people. I'd rip apart your lazy, ass-hatted review but it's not worth my time you prissy little skank. I think I'll just put it on my personal life checklist to kick you and your companion in the head should I ever have the pleasure of meeting you in person.

The ordeal began with a casual get together on our friends porch with a couple glasses of wine. Next we walked to the crime scene and looked at the outdoor menu. "Lamb in sauce with vegetables". Wow, that sounds great. What kind of lamb? What kind of sauce? So many questions. Like being vague is a good marketing technique for anyone but a politician. But, some people on the street said they enjoyed the place, and of course Karen thought it was "delicate". Who can argue with a powerful statement like that.

As we weighed our options we noticed that there wasn't a single person in the place. Not a single occupied chair. Note to self and others, if you ever think about eating at a restaurant at 7pm on a Saturday and there isn't a soul inside. Walk away. Either it's a front company of some sort of illegal activity or it sucks. This place sucked so much it may have been both. But in we went, dying to find a new place.

As we were seated near the window I half expected a stage prop canvas, with a mural of a busy restaurant, to fall from the ceiling behind us. "See look at the nice people enjoying our food, come in, come in." We received our wonderfully lame menus and asked for a drink menu. "We only have wine and beer." Okay fine, no liquor license. I guess we can get by. Swing and miss, strike one. Let's see the wine list....okay, California Cab, California Merlot. If we order a Merlot I'm leaving. California, California, France, California, California. If we order a California wine I'm leaving. So we settle on this completely uninspired Cab (from California) with a twist off top. Oooh, very sheik. Then the server asks us for IDs.....enough said. We had a good laugh. My wife ordered a ginger ale. "Sorry no ginger ale, only Coke and Diet Coke." So....you sell Coke products but only those two. Ingenious. What a very progressive idea. Fewer drink options means more focus on the food. Brilliant. How about you run your ass over to the Wilson Farms, buy some cans of ginger ale and drop one in a glass. Hey, batter, batter, Strike two. Then he spent five minutes trying to articulate why we would really rather have their tea. All without a single adjective. It was linguistically amazing, but not very compelling.

So we went to order, but the wonderful menu with very little description leaves us with a few questions. "What cut of lamb is this? Rack? Shank?" We get sort of a blank-stare response. "Wow, that's a good question. Umm....I'll have to ask the chef." Let me get this straight. You have a shitty menu with almost no descriptions, only about 10 entrees, and you don't have the details for all of them in your head? Have you even tried the lamb before? Do you know what a rack of lamb is? Strike three looking.

On to the menu. Let's see no soup. Strike four. Only the same lame "vegetables" side for all the entrees. God forbid you, as a culinary artist, try to match your sides with you main meal. Hey zucchini goes with everything right. Strike five. For our appetizers we orders the "fried shrimp with salad" and "lobster something-something with salad". These actually didn't suck as much as everything else. The shrimp were warm, lightly breaded jumbo shrimp with good flavor. Amazing. Hun the Hack took a pitch. Ball one. The lobster was passable, but the salads were romaine and sliced grape tomatoes in a light vinaigrette. Very original.

And then the main course. The duck was cold, the beef tenderloin was tenderized and small. What about the lamb? Sadly, the lamb was simply lamb tenderloin, which if we hadn't been told it was rack of lamb wouldn't be a big deal. Except for the fact that we ordered it medium and got it rare. He can't hit, he can't hit, he can't hit, sa'wing batter. Strike five, strike six, strike seven. To top off the wonderful evening when we explained our issues with the meal, they tried to make us feel better about spending $160 by giving us two (there were four of us) craptacular chocolate mousse deserts. All I'll say is that they were chunky and flavorless...and that's being nice.

Hun you are a hack in the same mold as Dave Kingman, but without all the home runs. Maybe you're more like Bob Uecker. You must be in the front row....of the unemployment line.

Karen, I'll be looking for you.

Greatest American: Update

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.

Which of These Are Not Like the Others?

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:

1. are gimmee nominations that even Dan Quayle could have identified and most likely spelled correctly
2. represent people who have positively contributed to this country, but most likely fall short of this great honor, and
3. not only have little or nothing to positively contribute to their friends and family but are completely impotent to "leave their mark" on this nation

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...):

• Washington
• Lincoln
• Roosevelt (take your pick)
• JFK
• Jefferson
• King

The Almosts:

• Henry Ford
• Fredrick Douglass
• Neil Armstrong
• The Wright brothers
• Rosa Parks
• Mark Twain

The Ass Goblins Not Worthy of Nomination:

• Tom Cruise (The Crazier-Than-The-Cocoa-Puffs-Bird-Talentless-Actors Award)
• Oprah Winfrey (Most Weight Gained and Lost in a Single Lifetime, Female Role)
• Rush Limbaugh (Most Weight Gained and Lost in a Single Lifetime, Male Role)
• Bill Clinton (Greatest Lawyer, "That depends on what your definition of 'is' is?")
• Hillary Clinton (Greatest New York Senator who never really "lived" in the state)
• George W. Bush (Greatest ex-baseball owner who thought it would kick ass to one up his father by winning re-election)
• Michael Jackson (sorry, can't stop laughing at this one)
• Arnold Schwarzenegger (oh still laughing.....Arnold please terminate the nominator for the individual above)

and of course, no list of nominees for the Greatest American EVER would be complete without the man who is single-handedly trying to rid this country of the beef frankfurter, one dog at a time.....

• Michael Moore (Greatest American Who Should be Shipped Off to Iraq to Service His Country In Payment for Providing Him The Opportunity to Become The Rich Fat Bastard He Is Today)

In all there are 26 no-brainer Ass Goblins on this list. That includes three Bushs (five if you count Madonna and Ellen DeGeneres). John F'ing Edwards...no not the dude that speaks with dead people, the other one. One, Hugh Hefner (sic!), and Dr. Phil. That's more than 25% of the nominees who I wouldn't let hold my jock.

Judith McHale (CEO Discovery Communications) thank you for the nice HD programming, but are you smoking crack? This has got to be one of the dumbest things I've ever seen. Can't wait for you to get to the afterlife and explain this to Abe. Oh that's right....you're on different lists. Read my lips: There shouldn't be a single freakin' entertainer on this list. They make movies, sing songs, and play sports. They do not add any significant value to the fabric of our country! You stupid, stupid girl.

The only people more pissed at you than I am are the left-wing Hollywood power mongers who didn't approve this idea (actually I'm pretty sure you didn't run it by anyone). They're going to show you that drugs are bad...um kay....and that you shouldn't have let this cat out of the bag until they were ready to present it along with the idea of Carousel. Well guess what? When that day comes as you stare at your red, glowing lifeclock with the choice to Renew or run, please do me a favor. Run. Because I'm going to be there. I'll be your Sandman.

Most Customer Service Sucks

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.