• Yesterday I goofed on a few radio commercials, and today I need to vent about some television ads that are pushing me toward the edge. Now I personally think jewelry is a colossal waste of money and that anyone who buys this over-priced crap is a fool. However, I purchase my share of stupid things, so who am I to judge? Anyway, disagree with me about buying jewelry – that’s fine. But don’t argue with me over how annoying some of the ads promoting this product are. The brand that annoys me the worst is Jared. First off, I had no idea until a year or so ago that there was a jewelry store named after a guy who lost weight eating Veggie Delights. And to make matters worse, Jared’s ads are awful. All they consist of is some chick running around saying, “He went to Jared!” with parents, siblings and jealous friends repeating the line in different tones. The worst of the worst has to be that commercial with the chick at some hippie party getting her panties wet over every ring/earring/necklace she sees, with the other women point to their men and saying, “He went to Jared.” At the end of the commercial this bitch walks up to her husband, who has no clue what’s going on, and drops something in his drink. I hope he beats the ever-loving shit out of her when they get home because she needs it; the only rock she should get is one from the backyard right to her dome.
But the people at Jared look like a marketing geniuses next to Kay Jewelers. I don’t care too much of Mother’s Day or Father’s Day because, well, I don’t give two shits about my family. However, I can’t wait for Mother’s Day to arrive because I’m getting ready to turn violent over Kay’s one Mother’s Day-themed ad. It starts out with this guy taking his wife to the garage, where their brats are playing music and singing, “You’re the most awesome mom in the world, happy Mother’s Day.” Christ I haven’t heard a more annoying sound in quite sometime, and what kind of fucked up family would do something like this? The gang that lives a house or two down from me symbolizes more what a typical family is like. It was around midnight earlier this week when I got to hear that family talk about how the mother found a stash of drugs in the one son’s room. I wish Kay would make a song from the lyrics I heard that night: “I fucking hate you you fucking twat and I can’t wait until I leave this fucking place!” Oh, yeah. All together now: “Happy Mother’s Day!”
• Speaking of Mother’s Day, tomorrow I get to partake in a tradition the better half’s family had engaged in for years. Every Mother’s Day the in-laws gather up the family and we go to some restaurant. I’m not complaining. After all, it’s a free meal, and the entertainment will be provided courtesy of the crack-whore sister-in-law. Hopefully she won’t be totally doped up and start a fight with someone there. I also think that this will be the first time she will be near the better half since our wedding last June; a wedding where she stormed out of the church and caused one of those magical family moments that you just treasure for the rest of your life. Oh, and for the record, the person who stormed out was the crack-whore, not Mrs. kkk, although you couldn’t blame her since she was marrying me. Hopefully there will be some action tomorrow and I’ll be able to have tomorrow’s entry write itself with minimal effort.
Well today I get to become disenfranchised because it’s primary season in Pennsylvania. A while back the state got rid of its outdated, RACIST voting machines in favor of high-tech video screens that aren’t quite ready for use yet. Oh, this should be fun. I voted in two separate precincts during my stays in Pennsylvania and each time I used the lever machines. They were nice and efficient. You walk into the booth and pull the big handle. This makes the curtains close behind you and enables you to work the rest of the levers. For every candidate you support you push their little lever. If you, say, voted for Bush but wanted to change your vote to Kerry, you had to reset Bush’s lever before yanking on America’s Vietnam War Hero. When you were done with all your voting, you pulled the big lever again to register all your selections. Simple enough. Now I get to stand next to some machine that will probably remind me of when I took my driving license test, and if something doesn’t look right I get to have the 90-year olds who are manning the polls provide tech support. Hell, I might pretend to be confused just to see grandma get up and try to reboot the system or thumb through the machine’s how-to guide (along with bitching about how small the type is in the booklet).
There’s really no reason for me to vote in the primaries this year. My State Representative is a Democrat, so I can’t vote against him as an act of protest for the whole pay-raise debacle that took place last year. Even though my Rep didn’t vote for the pay hike, and I’ve voted for this Dem in a previous election, I’m considering voting for whoever runs against him in the general election just to say, “Fuck you bitches – vote yourself a pay raise and I’ll vote for whoever is running against the incumbent.” Around these parts, some people call this “voting for the gorilla.” Anyway, I figure this will be a nice tune-up for the general election that’s going to come in about six months. I’ll find out how to vote for Rick Santorum, who is probably running unopposed, or against a bunch of wackos I’ve never heard of before, and pray that the normally stupid constituents that make up a large portion of the Democrat Party think they're voting for Bob Casey Jr. when in fact they're endorsing Pat Buchanan come November.
Speaking of voting against incumbents who endorsed giving themselves a raise, there's a bitch in Beaver County named Mike Veon who not only voted for our state's most recent pay increase, but also defended his actions. Well, he defended it as much as one can without going to the media and explain himself. The funny thing is he's up against some nobody with a shoestring budget and the polls, last time I checked, indicate a close race. Veon, who long has been a popular Democrat Representative in a heavily Democrat area, is advertising on television, which tells me he's sweating a bit. And just to show that I’m not being partisan on this issue, I’m hoping for a few bitch-ass Republicans to bit the bullet in the primary season as well, especially since both branches of Congress in Pennsylvania are “controlled” by Republicans (although it’s hard to tell considering they bend over every time Governor Ed Rendell unzips his pants.
• Since message boards and blogs were meant for stupid lists of “favorite” and “not-so-favorite” things, coming soon will be KKK’s Top 103 Posters. A list so exciting, so heart-stopping, so utterly magnificent in production value that you will tune in two, or maybe even three, times to relive the drama and intrigue over and over and over again. Well, maybe not three “overs” because that would mean you tuned in four times … eh, you get the idea.
• All I can say is thank God for vacation time/sick days. This morning as I was getting ready for work I was thinking to myself, “Do you really have to do this today?” Of course this week I have a lot of projects due, but I’m one of those saps that likes to get things done ahead of time so I don’t end up running around like a chicken with its head cut off at the last minute trying to get a bunch of pisspoor work turned in. In addition, I get a certain amount of vacation days per year, and they have to be used up by December 31 or else I lose them. Now while many people at my place of employment choose to use a bunch up for a week or two off, I prefer to spread mine around. After all, why take a week off when you’ll end up having to work twice as hard for a week once you get back to work and have finish up the stack of assignments that were put on your desk while you were out and about? But I digress.
As I was making my morning commute I was right on schedule at around the 10- to 15-minute mark of my daily workweek drive. However, that’s when everything came to a literal grinding halt. I take Route 30 West, which passes by an Interstate Highway. I don’t go on I-376 West but it’s a nice marker to gauge my commute time. Well, about several miles before the Interstate exit, traffic was at a standstill in a place where it shouldn’t be. With the pouring rain, the better half and I figured this gridlock was probably due to an accident. The time was 6:15 a.m.; we were running a little behind schedule, but nothing serious. The time then became 6:20, then 6:30, then 6:40, and we haven’t moved an inch. Well, to be fair, we did move up a little bit, but that was because motorists in front of me were turning around and driving away. In addition, I was looking a few traffic lights down at this big white truck and noticed that during all this time it hadn’t moved an inch due to the traffic. It was now 6:55 and there was no sign of any vehicles in front of me moving forward. In addition, the traffic reports from a variety of radio stations weren’t mentioning anything about this backup, probably because it wasn’t on an Interstate – damn liberal media bias. Anyway, as a few more vehicles did U-Turns and high-tailed it out of there I was faced with a dilemma: Stay the course or turn around. The reason this became an issue was because if I were to move up I’d be away from the four-way intersection I was next to and unable to turn around if I felt like doing so. I figured it’s days like this that vacation days are made for, I turned around and headed back home. As I was driving back I took a look at the traffic that accumulated behind me up since I began waiting, and quite a lot of fossil fuel was wasted on this day.
Another reason I decided to stay home was that an additional accident took place on a road that I have to take to get to work. For those familiar with the Shittsburgh, area, an accident on the Fort Pitt Bridge was bringing outbound traffic to a standstill, and this accident was first reported at 6:30. By 8 a.m. it still hadn’t cleared and traffic was limited to just one lane. Sometimes the Gods make it apparent they don’t want you to work on a certain day, and who am I to question them?
• For what seemed like an eternity, OnStar has been airing these commercials pimping their service. For those that don't know, OnStar is some hippie service in cars that lets you call an operator and have them help you out with anything from reporting an accident to unlocking car doors. Well, their radio commercials include real-life incidents showing us how valuable OnStar is. While some ads were downright stupid -- like the guy who locked his keys, and dog, in the car -- one particular commercial will always stick out in my mind. This kid in a heavy southern drawl calls in and goes, "Heeeeelp, my mamma's siiiick." The operator starts talking and the kid adds, "I'm five." Toward the end of the commercial the operator says something like, "Remember OnStar is always here for you," and the kid, not having any idea of what's going on, says "ok."
Another radio ad that is funny for all the wrong reasons are those stupid Ad Council public service announcements. Recently, I've been hearing this one that is even worse than usual. The ad starts with this guy and his young daughter in a car and the kid goes, "Daddy, are we there yet?" The father goes, "Almost. Grrr, there's a work zone ahead. Maybe I can pass these really slow cars." He then starts to burn rubber, and all of a sudden you hear a loud crash and the kid yelling, "Daddy!" There's another version of this ad featuring a soccer mom and her son, but the father/daughter one is much funnier.
• I finished watching all of Lost's season one episodes and decided to see what other people thought of the show in TSM's Lost thread. It's funny to read what people say right after an episode and then speculate on where some storylines might be headed. I'm not making fun of some of the incorrect predictions because that's the fun of watching a show when it first airs and then speculating on what the future holds. However, I'm much more content now with getting a season's worth of DVDs and watching them when I want to. All in all, not a bad show. It's not my favorite program or anything like that, but it was well worth the purchase. I think one thing I don't like about watching shows when they're being first-run is that you have to wait at least a week for the next show to be aired. Give me the episodes back-to-back and commercial free. I've noticed that when watching shows on DVD I tend to catch more subtle things that would get overlooked otherwise. A good example of this are with my Seinfeld DVDs; for example, in one of the earlier episodes Jerry is hitting on this chick and staked her out at her job (with George deciding he wants to be an architect). In a later episode, the same chick is with him on a "weekend retreat" that ruined the relationship. Had it not been for the DVD's and watching them in order, I would not have spotted this continuity.
When it comes to Lost's second season, I think I'll just wait until it comes out on DVD. That way, I won't have to fret when that show goes on a multi-week hiatus, leaving me to wonder who that wacky polar bear is going after, or whatever the hell is going on in Season 2. As for the first season, here is my opinion of the show's characters, for those that care. They are listed in the order of likeability. Oh, yeah. possible SPOILERS ahead:
Sawyer: You had me at "I never voted Democrat." Total asshole, and I love him.
Locke: I thought he'd be Chester the Molester at first, but I like his story and he plays backgammon.
Sayid: Out of everyone in that group, shouldn't he have known that convincing someone to blow themselves up, then telling them they can't, is one of the worst things you can do to a Muslim male?
Hugo: Dude, you have a lot of funny moments, but every time I see your sweat stains I gag when thinking about what your stench must be like.
Jack: Eh, I guess he has to be there and all, but I really don't care much about him.
Kate: She's like Jack to me, only with tits.
Jin: He's there. Nothing negative or positive to say.
Sun: See Jin.
Boon: Commie.
Mike: I don't hate him as much as I hate his kid. I do feel for him a bit though considering his baby's momma royally fucked him over in life.
Charlie: Got a few laughs from me, but he's starting to get old what with being p-whipped and all. He ought to go for a walk with Claire and the kid deep into the jungle.
Claire: I'm a fan of Aussie accents, especially when it's a woman's voice, but she got on my nerves at various times and I really don't care what happens to her.
Shannon: Die, bitch.
Walt: I don't care what happens to this brat.
• Shame on you RIGHT-WING RADIO, shame on you. Yesterday I bitched about how a local television news station is pimping a FREE GAS GIVEAWAY, but now you guys at 104.7 WPGB have this hippie feature on your Web site where someone types in their zip code and a list of stations come up. Now the evil Clear Channel is taking part in the “OMG GAS PRICES ARE HIGH WHAT WILL WE DO?” hysteria. Just for the heck of it I logged on and tried out this service, and guess what: Just about all of them are the same! I’m as frugal as the next person; actually, I’m probably more frugal than the next person and the person after that, but I’m not driving halfway across town just to find a Quickie-Mart with gas that is 10 cents cheaper than the other places around it.
Actually, this brings back a fond childhood memory of my old man driving me around to several grocery stores because each had specific sale items. We’d first drive 20 minutes to Giant Eagle and get some bananas and pork. Then it was a 15-minute scoot to Foodland, where apples were 40 cents off. To continue the fun we’d go 25 minutes out of the way and pick up some chuck roast at 70 cents off per pound. Now being a kid driving all over the place for this crap, you can imagine how fun this was for me. Finally, one day I asked him why are we going all over the place just to get a few items. I was told because due to the Reagan economy (OK, I made that part up) a person has to save money whenever he can. My response to that: “But aren’t you wasting money on gas?” To this day I never got an answer to that from my old man.
• I heard on the radio today that Major League Baseball is allowing pink-colored bats to be used for Mother’s Day games. I’m sure there’s a joke somewhere in here dealing with the San Francisco Giants, but I’ll pass on it (this time).
• Speaking of baseball, a while back I was goofing on the Pirates and their retarded slogan “We will…” Well, to the surprise of many, the Pirates haven’t been doing so good this season, but what’s funny is that they’re still using this slogan. However, instead of earlier ads that stated “We will … preserve,” “We will … play hard,” We will … not give up,” now the commercials are saying “We will … support our Bucs.” Riiiight. I’m going to support the “bucs” in my wallet and not pay major-league prices to watch a minor-league team play. And just for the record, I only go to one grocery story, too.
• Oh, I didn’t get to talk about the LA Lakers and Kobe’s second-half collapse in Game 7 of the Western Conference quarterfinals. Now I was a Bryant fan for a while, and I defended him on his rape allegations after I concluded that the chick he banged in that hotel room was out for the money. However, my opinion of him has soured since, although I thought he should be considered for this year’s MVP award. But after watching his actions in Game 7, I don’t blame the league for giving it to Steve Nash. And for all the comparisons of Kobe to Michael Jordan? No way would Jordan act the way Bryant did in that game. I can’t stand it when basketball players get compared to M.J., and now to do it with Bryant is downright laughable.
• As I finish up today's entry, I'm listening on the radio to an interview of a "retired" polygamist. Having one wife is bad enough, I can't imagine what it would be like to deal with several of them. I know I would have "retired" the first time they all nagged me to mow the lawn.
Last Christmas the better half, who never knows what to get me for birthdays/holidays/etc., actually did the unthinkable and bought me a BOOK. Blasphemy. I had to deal with these things for the 16+ years of schooling I received – no way do I want to bother with these things some more. But then again, I can’t really blame her for getting me this monstrosity; after all, I am a bitch to shop for. Anyway, this book is titled “Do As I Say (Not As I Do)” and takes aim at limousine liberals who tell us to drive in hippie hybrids while they get around in private jets that consume more fuel in a single flight from Hollywood to Manhattan than I will use in at least a decade’s worth of commuting to and from my place of employment.
Now before my liberal pals start pointing their veggie sticks at me and go, “Yeah, well you conservatives are hypocrites, too,” don’t bother. I’m more than certain that a 250+ page book can be written about “family values” politicians divorcing wives who are battling cancer in the hospital, so instead of giving off more carbon dioxide for the trees, just shaddup. Actually, you might be pleased to know that I find this book a bit under whelming. Golly gee, Mikey Moore talks about RACISM in America but doesn’t hire people of color to work on his films/books/etc.? Color me surprised. Hitlery Clinton talks about the “decade of greed” while profiting heavily from it? Yawn. Ted Kennedy is big on the environment but is not so big on having windmill thingys placed near his Kennedy compound, which would make mother earth happy but not his yachting excursions? Get out. Most of the things in this book have already been addressed on various RIGHT-WING RADIO programs, among other areas of the conservative media. However, if listening to hours upon hours of the EIB Network isn’t your thing, then maybe it’s good to have all these tidbits in one convenient, space-saving publication.
Today I just finished up the chapter on Ralph Nader, and this one really made me laugh. Despite being against Big Business, Ralph has made a few dollars off the stock market with companies that profited from his activism. While reading this stuff was deserving of a few eye-rolls, what made me LOL was the following:
Then I come across this gem:
So I guess the lesson learned here is if GM/Halliburton/Visa/etc. want to avoid the scorn of Ralph, then all they have to do is say that they, too, are a “cause organization.” Of course, in these cases, the “cause” is to make big profits.
I’m about halfway through this read, and most of the big names (insert Mikey Moore joke here) have already been covered. However, Nancy Pelosi is in the on-deck circle, and I’m sure there will be some double standards regarding her “saying” and “doing” of labor practices. However, a few chapters after that is Barbara Streisand, which I’m sure will be a doozy.
What a fun couple of days the weekend turned out to be.
Friday: Water main break caused my block to go without H20, except for the few times brown liquid came out of the tap. Oh well, at least it gave me an excuse to stay home from work.
Sunday morning: After getting last week's edition of the Shittsburgh Tribune-Review, I went out there Sunday morning only to find my newspaper box empty. Like a good little customer, I phoned in to inform them of my lack of a newspaper. I was then told that one would be sent out to me. A few hours went by and nothing. I get a phone call at around noon asking if I received a paper yet. Once again the answer was "no." I was then told that one would be sent out. I'm still waiting. On the bright side, when I bitch to them today about this maybe they'll get me another discount on a publication that never gets delivered to my house. And this week had the P&G special coupon insert, too.
Sunday night/Monday morning: In the kkk bedroom we have a 27-29-inch television on an unenclosed stand. At about 3 a.m. I was awakened to the sound of scratching. Now, if JJ wants fed he usually messes with the closet door, resulting in a banging sound and also resulting in a few squirts of water from a bottle on my nightstand. However, this sounded different. The noise was coming from the TV stand. I figured it could have been from one of the kids playing with some wires over there, but something didn't sound right. The noise was too loud for that, especially since there's only one wire that they can get to and the noise wouldn't be that loud. Suddenly, I realized that something wasn't right, and it was at that time I heard a crashing noise that woke up the better half. The television fell off the stand onto the floor. Yippie. Our first thought was concern because we didn't want to have anyone squashed by this fallen appliance. However, I figured if that was the case there would have been a scream or yelp. Nevertheless there were a few tense moments when lifting up the TV set from off the floor. When the drowsiness wore off, it was time to do a head count of the three kids. Dessa was lying on the bed, which is normal considering she sleeps with us a lot. I went out into the living room and saw JJ walking around with his eyes half open. Had he been involved in any of this his tail would be puffed out and he'd be hiding someplace. Finally it was time to look for Max. He usually hangs out on the second floor, and when I went into the spare bedroom up there, there he was huddled at the bottom of that room's television stand with a guilty look in his eyes.
In an attempt to re-create the events of this evening, the best I can guess is that Max was trying to get up on the one windowsill. Now he usually just jumps up on the one sill from our bed, but since Dessa was taking up residence and doesn't hold Max in high regard, I think he was trying to find an alternate way up there. I also think the scratching I heard was him clutching onto some little vent thingys that are on the back part of the television when he lost his footing. Because the back part of the TV is sloped, I'm sure his movement back there propelled the set to the floor. Hopefully, the television is a total loss, but if it is, oh well. It could have been a lot worse.
Oh, and for someone who gets up at 5 a.m., this early wake-up call wasn't a good start to the workweek. However, after arriving at work I learned that my one asshole boss will be out for the week, so woo-hoo.
• Ha. Eminent Domain isn’t just for kicking some 90-year-old widow out of the home where she has lived for the past 70 years. Now Big Government is going after Big Business. Funny. This is like when the irresistible force meets the unmovable object.
• Might as well do some updates to my video gaming sports franchises. My hockey team is starting to turn itself around. I am now tied for eighth place in the Eastern Conference, and traded away Ryan Malone for Erik Cole, who is a much better defensive forward than Malone was. The good thing about this trade that now if I go up against a team whose first line has a “crash the net” strategy I put Cole in the first line to help defend against these hosses. If not, I usually put him on the second line and have Tomas Surovy up on the first line. For my football franchise, I was cruising along at 9-0 when I came across a game that I couldn’t play it because it would freeze up whenever loading. I noticed that if I play the Ravens in Week 15 during a season this bug happens. Now it looks like if the Browns are my Week 11 opponent, it will do the same. So, I simmed the week, and even though I won handedly, Alan Faneca is out for 9 weeks and James Farrior is out for the season. Yay.
My baseball franchise is a different matter because I’ve decided to not only play at the Major League Level, but also I’m playing all of the Pirates’ minor-league teams, even the Lynchburg Hillcats. The funny thing is I actually enjoy playing the minor-league games more because the players are prone to errors and such. I’m not sure how I’m going to go about adjusting sliders for more realistic game play; I adjust sliders after every season in Madden, and I’ll probably do the same for NHL ’06. However, I might just wait until the start of every calendar month to tweak the sliders for MVP ’05. Either way, I’m having some great games, albeit on the low-scoring side. But then again, not every game has to be an 11-10 slugfest. I was worried that I had the game set too easy at the Pro level, but after being swept by the Cubs (and getting shut out in the last two games by Wood and Prior) I think I’ll keep things right where they are.
• I don’t watch many first-run television shows on a regular basis. In fact, I stopped watching The Shield a few weeks into its latest season because I missed a few episodes and figured it’ll just be better to wait until it comes out on DVD and get it then. That’s what I did with Lost, and so far I’m almost three discs into the first season. I don’t think it’s as good as I heard some people say it is, but it was a worthwhile purchase nevertheless, especially since I got it during the Christmas season and for a great deal. I’m only several episodes into this season, but I already like Sawyer. For some reason I gravitate to the characters you’re supposed to hate. That was the case with me and the Dr. Romano character on ER. For the brief time I watched this show in the late 1990s-early ‘00s, the only reason I tuned in to watch this with the better half was to laugh at whatever politically incorrect, mean-spirited thing this guy had to say. It’s funny because other than Romano and that grumpy ex-cop-turned-receptionist, I didn’t give two shits about anyone on that show. In fact, I found just about everyone else on that show so dislikeable that I enjoyed seeing them wallow around in their own misery and self-pity. Like I said before, I haven’t seen all the episodes from season one of Lost, but is there a point to the hippie polar bears? A simple “yes” or “no” response will suffice.
There are many things that helped contribute to the financial problems Shittsburgh is currently facing, and a number of them revolve around still pretending it’s the 1960s and the city is densely populated. Being an evil suburbanite, I get to witness firsthand one of the many services the city pays for that other, smaller communities get done at less expense, or sometimes with no cost at all to the taxpayer. I’m talking about city-employed school crossing guards.
Seriously, I hate these fucking people. The only authority figures that have less authority than these pseudo law-enforcement officials are mall cops that hang out at Orange Julius for most of their shift, hitting on the one cashier who doesn’t weigh 400 lbs. Now you might be thinking, “come on, kkk, aren’t you being a little harsh?” Sorry, but not only do these people get paid $12k a year for only working a few hours per day, but also they get free health and dental insurance and free vision care, along with paid sick days, personal days and paid time off for school holidays. Now the argument over keeping these people is “but they only make up a small portion of the city’s budget.” Yes, but you get a bunch of these “small portions” of any budget, you suddenly find yourself in the red.
Anyway, back to my story. On the drive home from work I have to go past several of these pseudo cops. I can understand escorting grade school children across a busy intersection, but these people are walking with GROWN ADULTS across streets that have minimal, if any, traffic. My first encounter with one of these people came with a portly broad at this one intersection. Like a good motorist I waited until she walked with this middle-aged woman across a street I was about to turn on to. Now every fucking day that she does this she waddles completely across the street with a pedestrian. Of course this time as she got about three-fourths of the way across the street, and well out of the two lanes of road I was about to turn on to, she stops and starts walking back. I of course have to put on the breaks and the bitch says to me, “I have the right of way,” to which I replied, “Yes, your highness.” A few young males nearby heard this and laughed.
This past week I had my second run-in with one of these people. Before driving to meet “fat ass,” the affectionate nickname the better half gave to the aforementioned crossing guard, we deal with another one of these people at a four-way intersection at some government school. Well, as I was making my usual left-hand turn at this intersection I suddenly saw a school bus with its yellow lights on. Of course, when at the stop sign at this four-way there are several houses that block my view of the left road, preventing me from seeing the school bus until I was in the middle of the intersection. Of course the crossing guard was a big help; all she did was just stand there and say to me in a tone that would sound threatening if bellowed by a real officer of the law, “You must come to a stop.” Well no shit bitch. Maybe if instead of talking to the ghetto children at the one corner of this intersection you would have motioned for me not to turn due to the fact I couldn’t see a school bus getting ready to make a stop I wouldn’t have almost been in danger of plowing down some products of our Great Society program. Fucking bitch. Instead of making that turn, I just drove straight through the intersection and continued onward toward my home in suburbia. Ever since, whenever this bitch gives me “permission” to turn left at this intersection, I inch up a few feet, make a deliberate second stop and slowly look both ways before making my turn. Hopefully, one of these times when I turn I’ll be able to run her over.
The funny thing is, on the street that I live at we also have a school bus that makes its daily stop, and, yes there are school crossing guards present. However, they are not employed by the State – they are parents and grandparents, and they do not get paid a decent wage and receive free health care for performing this service.
• Boy we’re really going to show Zacarias Moussaoui by giving him life in prison. At this point I don’t care – would you expect anything less from a justice system that freed OJ Simpson and gave a sympathetic ear to the Menendez Brothers? Now the judge got real tough on Moussaoui by saying, “When this proceeding is over, everyone else in this room will leave to see the sun ... hear the birds ... and they can associate with whomever they want… You will spend the rest of your life in a supermax prison. It's absolutely clear who won." Oh shut up already. I bet in six months he gets dial-up Internet access, finally going up to broadband in another three. Also, as the years go on, I’m sure there will be civil rights groups out there that will say we’re being too mean on Moussaoui and take up his cause, or some similar bullshit action. Just like many events, time dulls the senses to the point where the public (or some red diaper doper baby judge) decides that the convicted has paid his or her debt to society, and I’m sure Moussaoui will be another example of this sometime down the future.
Now I’m not a huge death penalty fan. The reason for this is because once you flip the switch or insert that needle that’s it. If a witness lied during the convicted’s trial: too bad. If DNA evidence shows that the condemned was innocent all along: oopsie. The fact you can’t make up for someone who was wrongly found guilty once they’re put to death is my only reservation toward capital punishment. Now if you are videotaped killing a convenience store clerk or police officer, then forget the trial; I’ll turn on Ol’ Sparky myself.
If any good can come out of Moussaoui’s trial it is that I hope some people who didn’t know that the jury system is so broken beyond repair know it now. So if these people ever have their life changed forever due to some thug hopefully, if they have the chance, that they take out this piece of shit who committed the crime against them before calling the proper authorities. After all, someone has to do it since a jury won’t have the stones to do it themselves; unless you live in Texas, of course.
• If I hear one more time that an extra year of college cost Matt Leinart $10 million dollars, I’m going to scream. Oh gee, instead of signing up for the NFL Draft last year and getting picked first overall he got to have a year of college that any of us could only dream of. On top of that, he is going to a Arizona Cardinals team that, although horrible, is much more appealing to any quarterback than the San Francisco 49ers. Leinart’s going to be set for life thanks to his NFL career; so what if he missed out on a bigger signing bonus by waiting a year? Normally I support college players that turn professional early. After all, it takes just one blown knee or torn ACL in a collegiate game to have any pro aspirations go up in smoke. However, if a student wants to stay and enjoy his college experience, then that’s his right, too. If you were Leinart, would you have wanted to spend 2005 getting crushed by NFL defenders or to enjoy a final season of college and getting your pick of just about any 18- to 24-year old in the Southern California region? I thought so.
For the longest time I always had summer pegged as my favorite month. After all, when you’re a kid, summer meant no school, unless you were a retard like me and had to attend summer school for two years because you were too lazy to study during the year’s other three seasons. However, as I got older, summer began to turn from being a paradise to one more of a bother. After all, when working in the “real world” there’s no three-month break, unless you work seasonally and collect unemployment. Also, in the Mid-Atlantic region summer usually brings humidity. Not the Deep South humidity mind you, but enough humidity to make me feel like shit after a while if I’m out in the sun. In addition, drivers seem to be worse during these months. I don’t know if it’s because preppie high school kids just got their new sports cars from daddy, or if people don’t prepare their vehicles for the summer months, resulting in more breakdowns on the road. Then again, since the price of gasoline rises during this time, maybe people just get more pissed off waiting at stoplights, burning precious fuel. Who knows and who cares – one thing is for certain, summer is no longer my favorite season.
This now begs the question: what season is my favorite? Well, winter is immediately crossed off the list. Sure there’s Christmas, but there’s also snow, ice, sleet and biting winds. In addition, the people I mentioned above who don’t prep their automobiles for the hazy summer months also don’t get their vehicles ready for the slick road conditions that occur from January through March. However, accidents during this time are to be expected, so when you hear of a 10-car pileup on the nearby interstate, you think to yourself that taking a personal day from work isn't such a bad idea. With summer and winter eliminated, I’m torn between spring and autumn as being my favorite month. Let me break each season down.
The plusses of spring for me include, in no particular order: 1) Saying good-bye to winter. 2) My favorite time for sports. Not only is Major League Baseball under way, but also the NBA and NHL playoffs are in full swing. You also have the NFL Draft, which gives any football junkie a quick fix. 3) The ability to wear shorts and loose t-shirts. The minuses of spring for me include, in no particular order: 1) Saying hello to rain, along with mowing the lawn. When the better half and I moved into this house, I didn’t take into account the fact I’d be mowing the property that came with it. Friday was my first mow of the year, and the result was two hours and four bags’ worth of clippings. Although I’ve had a pretty consistent opinion of illegal immigration, I began to re-think my position after the first time I had to go out and cut this shit. 2) The increased traffic, which I already mentioned above. 3) Nice weather that’s not too hot and not too cold. This is the time of the year when I open up all the windows and let the breeze cool down the house, rather than letting the central air do its thing.
The plusses of autumn for me include, in no particular order: 1) Saying hello to the NFL regular season and MLB playoffs. I guess I can mention that the NBA and NHL usually start around this time, but I really don’t care about either’s regular season. 2) Once again, the weather. The temperature isn’t yet cold, and after several months of hot and humid surroundings, it’s nice to turn off the central air and open up the windows, if only for a few weeks. The minuses of autumn: 1) While my days of mowing the lawn are numbered for the year around this time, there’s the raking of leaves, which always sucks. However, this is only a once-a-year occurrence, unlike the constant growing grass. 2) The dread of knowing that snow is right around the corner.
For the last few years I had always pegged myself as a “spring” person, although after looking at what I have just written, it seems to me that autumn would probably be my season of preference. The only real negative to autumn is knowing that winter is fast approaching in October than it is in April. Weird.
• Well today a bunch of illegal immigrants are supposed to show us what it would be like without their presence. Like I've said before, don't pick your lettuce, but only if you also don't show up at our emergency rooms or schools. Also it would be greatly appreciated if you didn't receive any public assistance from our country's numerous free-money centers. If these people are going to go south of the border, if only for a day, then I'll feel a lot safer should I get blindsided by a motorist today. Not only will I be able to understand the words coming out of this person's mouth, but also there's a greater chance that driver will have insurance.
• The NFL Draft has passed, and I forgot to talk about my all-time favorite moment, which was when Emily Manning threw his little shitfit and pouted like a bitch when the San Diego Chargers drafted him with the first overall pick a few years ago. I don't know what was better -- hearing the boos he got from the crowd, seeing Emily barely latch onto that #1 Chargers jersey, or listening to Chris Berman trying to spin the whole situation, "See, he's even holding up that jersey; what a great sport!" All of this only led up to the best part of the draft, hands down, when it was announced Emily was traded to New York and then to hear the NYC crowd react when the commish began reading off everything the Giants gave up.
• Speaking of drafts, I figure this might be a good time to reflect on the time I attended a professional sports draft. No, I didn't drive up to New York City and wear some stupid green hard hat with an airplane on it. My one friend, who was a partial season ticket holder to Penguin games, gave me her pair of tickets to the 1997 NHL draft that took place in Shittsburgh because she was going to be out of town that week. The funny thing is I knew none of the athletes being drafted at this event. Joe Thornton was the top pick that year, but I don't know (or pronounce the names of) anyone else that got picked this day, although Sergei Samsonov is ringing a bell for some reason. Anyway, my friend that I brought with the other ticket and I just sat and watched these names being called and cheered when the Pens made their selections. One highlight from this day came when the crowd who attended this event booed every time the Rangers made a pick. In addition, I think some kid who played goalie for a nearby college or minor-league team got drafted. Even though the day was fairly uneventful, it wasn't a total waste of a day. After all, it's not every day you get all the teams of a sports league get together and prepare for their futures right before your eyes.
• I heard over the weekend that Shittsburgh has a National Woman's Professional Football team called the "Passion." Oh well, seeing how this team has survived three seasons already, I guess you go, girls. This team can't be any worse than the USFL's Maulers from back in the day.
• Ha. I was right. When watching ESPN this morning, the "draft experts" are busting on the Texans for not taking Reggie Bush. OMG what is wrong with them (Tom Jackson or Michael Irvin, I can’t remember which one, called him a player you only see “once-in-a-lifetime.”). Why, if they drafted Reggie then the could contend for the AFC South with the Colts and Jags. Some ESPN schmoe also said that if they would have drafted Bush then the Texans would have one of the most imposing offenses in the league. Funny, I remember other teams that recently drafted for offense -- Detroit and Arizona -- and look how great they turned out.
Like I've said before, I have no clue as to who any of these college players are, but it seems like many teams in the early first round did well with their pics, I guess. The Steelers moved a few slots up to get some hippie receiver from Ohio State. Uh, yay, I guess. Of course, I found out about this pick when turning on the late-night news and also seeing people tailgating outside of Heinz Field and a wedding party outside waving Terrible Towels. The sports talk radio should be interesting this upcoming week, considering most people had the Steelers pegged as drafting Lendall White from USC. In the end, I guess this was the best pick for the Steelers, considering they had lost two of the top three receivers over the past couple of years -- Plaxico Burress and Antowain Randel-El.
Oh, and I also find it funny that Vince Young and White are going to play on the same team, provided both survive training camp.
• I heard on the radio that some commies from Carnegie Mellon University created this video game on how to achieve peace in the Middle East. Basically, you take either the side of the Muslims or Jews and you have to react to situations, whether they are homicide bombers blowing up Israeli nightclubs or demolition crews flattening some Palestinian house. Oh, I'm sure this game is non-linear. Let's see. React with force when Abdul blows up a cafe -- GAME OVER.
• In my area a local topic has been brewing up over a different kind of draft. In a yuppie school district, some kids created this "Top 25 chicks" list of girls from their school and has graded each of them on all the important things, like breast size, derrieres, whether they put out, etc. Well, some people in the area are shocked and appalled over this, and some parents are demanding justice, even saying this is the equivalent of "written rape." Personally, I find the whole thing funny as hell, and I’m sure this is only motivating other boys from neighboring school districts to created one of these newsletters. Note to offended parents: If you think a "draft" like this is bad, you should hear what it's like in a school locker room, or in the basement of a kids house when him and his friends are talking about the opposite sex.
• When watching various first-round NHL Playoff games this past week, I have to say that some of my favorite crowds are from western Canada, particularly Edmonton and Calgary. Not only are they loud, but also they really seem to get into the action, which in many instances make the game even more enjoyable to watch.
• So I was listening to some RIGHT-WING RADIO today, and I heard this gem from Nancy Pelosi, “We have two oil men in the White House … The logical follow up from that is $3/gallon gasoline. It is no accident. It is a cause and effect.” How the fuck did this bitch ever get elected. Oh, yeah. California.
• Swift Terror recently talked about getting some kid to mow his lawn (dude, your yard isn’t that big, you lazy piece of shit), and I would strongly advice against it. When the better half and I moved into our house in July of 2004, the old couple we bought the house from kept it in very good shape. Well, the upstairs bathroom looks like it is a relic from the 1970s, but that’s no big deal; those people had trouble going up stairs and didn't care much about that part of the house. Anyway, one thing they didn’t do anything about for a month or so was their yard, and frankly I don’t blame them. Anyway, when we moved in one of the things we had to get was a lawn mover – we had always rented and never had to deal with cutting grass. Our thinking was instead of buying a mower and weed whacker then having to move it along with our other furniture and belongings, we would just buy these products once everything else gets settled in.
Well, a day or so after everything was moved into the new house, and we were in the process of unpacking, this kid came up to our house and asked if we wanted our lawn mowed. I had to laugh because God only knows what the neighbors thought of our neglectful ways regarding lawn care. I said “oh what the heck,” and agreed to have the kid cut our lawn. After all, it would just be one thing out of the way and I could focus on settling in. The kid came over a day or so later on one of those mowers you drive instead of push. A short time later he was done and I paid him. Then I went outside and took a gander at what he did. Ugh. Uneven patches of grass were everywhere, the edges of the lawn weren’t trimmed and there was no consistent mowing pattern. I appreciate the entrepreneurship of this kid, but damn he did a shitty job. I will say however that something good came out of this – he motivated me to soon thereafter purchase some landscaping equipment of my own.
• A while back I gave my opinion of Talker Magazine's best of RIGHT-WING RADO list and one of the people I didn't (and couldn't) comment on was some guy named Dave Ramsey. Well, since I recently discovered WPIT in Shittsburgh, which carries his show in the afternoons, I now give him my seal of approval. Basically, he's a money-management guy. Nothing too exciting, but after listening to politics and sports discussion all day, this is a nice change of pace; he's like a younger Bruce Williams -- MUCH younger.
Oh, and on Ramsey's show today, he mentioned that 550 WKRC in Cincinnati, which carries his show from 10 p.m. - midnight is having an on-line poll asking who should take over the 9 a.m. - noon timeslot now open since Tony Snow left his radio show for other career opportunities. Even though I no longer live in the southwest Ohio region, I'm sure you all know who I voted for.
• Well the NFL draft is tomorrow, and if you are looking for a place that will give you all the latest news and insight to this annual event … well, then keep on looking. I like the NFL draft and all, but I’m not glued to the television set for the entire weekend because it’s on. Actually, I have no idea who any of these can't miss mega-star college players are. With that being said, I’ll be sure to tune in several times during the day to see who gets picked where; I might even have it on as background noise depending on what I’m doing around the house. However, I do have one thought about this year’s draft. I’m sure Reggie Bush is a fine athlete and all, but is he really the second coming of Christ? Better yet, is he really what the Houston Texans need at this time? Unless Bush can block with the strength of three linemen, I don’t think he’s going to help out the Texans with their biggest problem since entering the league – pass protection. But then again, if Houston doesn’t draft Bush, and trades down a few spots to let some other team get him and ends up with that offensive lineman that’s supposed to go real early and a few other early-round picks, I’m sure Chris Berman will say mean things about the Texans front office, and we can’t have that.
UPDATE: Uh, oh. I just saw on ESPN that it looks like the Texans are going to take that Williams guy with the first overall pick. Man, I wouldn't want to be Houston's General Manager tomorrow.
• For the last several weeks our one cat Max has had a urinary tract infection. Basically, what this means is that he’s spending half the day in a litter box trying to pee out whatever fluid is inside him. While this can be serious, especially if there is blockage (which he doesn’t have), the vet has said his condition isn’t too bad. At first we had him on some antibiotics, but they didn’t do the job. Now he’s on some stronger stuff, and we’re going to have to change his, and the other two cats’, diet. In other words, we’re going to have to buy some overpriced shit and a water-purifying machine. Now although Max is acting normal (or at as normal as he acts) he’s still making a beeline for the nearest litter box a dozen or so times per day. Last night as I laid in bed, our female cat Dessa hopped up and laid down between the better half and me; she always sleeps with us. Now sometimes Max jumps up on the bed, too, but the problem is Dessa doesn’t take kindly to him or our other cat, JJ. This results in Max usually just laying beside me, away from Dessa. Well, that was the case last night. However, at around 2:30 in the morning I felt this weight upon my upper body and this water on/around my collarbone. Problem was it wasn’t water – Max was peeing on me. Yep. I have no idea why the little bastard decided to relieve himself on top of me, but thank god he hardly had anything in him. Fortunately I woke up when he was finished and he quickly jumped off me; I don’t know what I would have done had I been awake when he decided to start. The good news, if there is any to come from this, is that I think he was aiming for a crevice in the comforter or something and none of the urine got on the bed, although my pillows are going to take a trip to the washing machine tonight (while dealing with this infection a few times he’s tried to pee on towels that were crumpled up on the floor, which has us thinking he didn’t have time to make it to a litter box and needed a makeshift toilet).
I guess it could have been worse. He could have been going number two. Or my mouth could have been open.
• So I was listening to Dr. Laura today and she was pimping some book about how feminism sucks or something; I wasn’t really paying attention. However, when she was reading some promo sheet about this chick’s other books I began listening and heard the following:
Like I said before, I really don’t care about this housewife/career woman shit, but the line about the laundry got a hearty laugh, because that is so the truth. At the kkk house, the better half has for years bitched about the way I fold the laundry towels, as if there’s some official way to fold them. Believe it or not, these bitch sessions got quite heated at times; all because I didn’t fold these things horizontally (or was it vertically?) – of course, if I don’t fold them they stay in the laundry basket for weeks at a time because she never gets around to doing them. Even if I knew how to “properly” fold them, I wouldn’t now just for spite.
Another point of contention at our residence deals with yard work. I hate moving the lawn, and for some reason Mrs. kkk thinks all men should revel in bagging weeds and playing with machines able to sever limbs in a flash. Last year, late in the “mowing season” she was bitching at me because I was putting off mowing the yard for a day or two (OK, maybe it was three), and she “threatened” to do it herself. I said “go ahead.” Not even five minutes had passed when she came back in. “I can’t start the lawn mower.” Equal rights my ass.
• What the hell is wrong with California?
There are times when I seriously question the sanity of my co-workers, but after reading stuff like this I realize it could always be worse (but not by much).
• Being part of a drive-by shooting that killed someone and lying about your role to a judge? Six months in jail. Talking about selling weed while serving your time? Eight years. I’m not a real sympathizer to those that get entangled in America’s “War on Drugs” (don’t do the crime if you can’t do the time), but this is too much, even for me.
Swift Terror was talking about stupid callers to talk-radio shows, and even though there are some gems in the RIGHT-WING RADIO world, the best ones, in my opinion, call in to sports-based shows. Say what you will about Mark Madden back when he was a WCW employee, but his local sports radio talk-show in the Shittsburgh market is entertaining, and the best part of his program is when he opens it up to the callers. Yesterday as I was driving home I heard this genius call in and suggest the following: The Steelers should trade their compensation draft picks, or whatever those things are called that they got for losing some key free agents over the last season or two, and get Matt Leinart. Then, the Steelers could have him on the sideline for a year or two while Ben Roethlisberger played until Matt was ready to take over the job. God I love this town.
I don’t consider myself a sports expert by any stretch of the imagination, but I hate fans that over-analyze everything imaginable when it comes to their favorite team or player. When I was in high school sure I knew the batting average of just about every player in the major leagues, but then I grew up. I don't remember the exact time when I realized that my days of memorizing who was on every NHL’s team checking line was over, but sometime during the 1994-95 NBA season I was watching a game and realized I hardly knew any of the players from either team. From then on I haven’t followed sports as closely as I once did, although I still enjoy watching games; I just don’t know the minor-league history of every player that I’m watching.
This entry is not meant as a diss to the people that still follow sports; whatever you want to do with your free time is fine with me (besides, I don’t want to insult Bored just yet because I want him to do a review of the 1984 battle to see which shortstop had the best fielding percentage in the National League). I just chose to do other constructive things with my time, like play video games and watch movies. In a way, I’m glad we have the Boreds and Al Keipers at this place, because you can get in-depth perspectives of a variety of subjects related to the sports world and not have to spend any of your own time looking at the back of baseball cards. These guys are certainly better to listen to than one kid I knew in high school. After the Pirates lost in the ’92 NLCS, he gave me his opinion of what the Bucs should do if they were to contend for a fourth division title. He said, “You know, if the Pirates went out and got some pitching, like say that Randy Johnson guy, they might be a pretty good team.” He also added, “Also, if they went out and got another good hitter, like Ken Griffey Jr., I think they could get to the playoffs again.” Genius.
• I’m not a hunter, but generally I don’t make fun of people that like to do this sort of thing. Personally, getting up at 4 a.m., going out to the wilderness, sitting around in the cold, damp morning air and waiting for a defenseless animal to walk into your sights is not my idea of a good time. However, if it floats your boat, then good for you. Then again, I have to ask what is so impressive about shooting a deer or turkey with a gun or arrow? Go kill a bear or mountain lion with just a knife and your wits; then you can really hang that animal's head up on your wall with pride. Oh, and when the animals fight back, I’ll be rooting for them. Not because I hate hunters, mind you, but rather I’m a sucker for the underdog, or in this case, underbear.
• Well the baptism thingy I talked about in yesterday’s entry went off without a hitch, for the most part. The mother-in-law decided to take over and pass the kid around, but that’s the worst which happened so all-in-all it wasn’t a bad day. We then went to the restaurant, where we were supposed to eat at 4 p.m. – we didn’t actually start eating until 5 p.m., and by the time we got out of that place it was past 7 p.m., so that was a nice chunk of 5+ hours on my day off. Oh well, it’s not like this chick is going to pop out another kid anytime soon, or at least for nine months.
• I’m sure many of you would agree with me that the winter months produce more automobile accidents and delays, but goddamn whenever spring really starts to get in effect the carnage seems just as bad. My commute from work been at least 10-15 minutes longer each day because of more traffic, accidents, broken-down vehicles and road construction projects which have the orange barrels/cones up with nobody actually working at the scene. And on top of that, there seemingly has been at least one car accident per day on the highway I drive on. At least when there’s snow falling down, the only people you have to worry about are the idiots with four-wheel drive going 60+ mph; when the weather’s nice it seems everyone thinks they’re a NASCAR driver.
• I was watching SportsCenter this morning, and they brought up a stat that talked about the NHL referees actually calling penalties in this year’s Stanley Cup Playoffs. It’s about goddamn time. I like hard-hitting hockey as much as the next person, but not at the expense of illegally clutching and grabbing a team’s star skill players and hampering the on-ice product. I never understood why officials allowed teams around this time of year to get away with play that would have netted them a penalty in the regular season. Hopefully, enforcing the rules will continue on into the later rounds and make the NHL as a whole better.
• I don’t know what would stink more: Your house getting blasted with 3,000 gallons worth of sewage, or hearing your local government promise they will clean up and repair the damage to your residence. In the article it says the house has a tax value of $101k while estimates for cleanup range from $75-150k – if I were this poor family, I’d rather pack up and move than to rely on the government to clean my, literal, shithole up.
It’s that time of the year again. Gas prices are shooting through the roof and Big Oil and their buddies in the Bush Administration are making record profits. You know what’s funny about this whole situation every time the price of fuel goes up? No, it’s not the soccer mom getting mad when filling up her Durango to take the kids to practice. It’s the same greenie weenies that bitch and moan about the cost of gas along with the rest of the masses. If these bitches had an ounce of honesty in them they’d welcome these $3/gallon prices and wish it would rise to the $4-5 range. After all, with a higher cost of fuel, more people would be tempted to take those clean, efficient vehicles that make up the public transportation system. With a higher cost of fuel, more people would be encouraged to buy hybrid cars, or at least shelve those gas-guzzling SUV’s. With a higher cost of fuel other alterative sources of energy would be encouraged even more.
So how come when the cost of gas rises do I not hear these people applaud? Oh, yeah. Halliburton.
It’s times like this that I thank God I no longer work at a convenience store. The wacky hours and crappy pay were bad enough; don't even get me started on the idiot customers (oops, too late). Those patrons were bad enough back when I worked there back in 1996 when gas was 99 cents a gallon; I couldn’t imagine putting up with these assholes now. Christ almighty, back then these people bitched when gas went up to a whopping $1.06 a gallon; I don’t want to know what they are saying now. One thing that has changed from 10 years ago is that many stations now require you to pre-pay; back then it was merely optional, unless it was late at night. I can’t blame the stores – I remember watching a few customers work up $100 bills back when gas was one-third cheaper than it is now.
Drive-offs were always weird for me. Our store was an extremely busy one, and it seemed that most drive-offs took place in the early afternoon, when there wasn’t much traffic. You would think the drive-offs would take place during a busy period, such as the morning or afternoon rush hour commute. Those drive-offs would get me pissed; you bust your ass for 6-7 hours without any theft, but the moment you turn around to do an inventory of behind-the-counter cigarettes, boom. There goes a $25 order.
Even though I had a few drive-offs in my heyday, there were several instances when I caught the bastards that tried to get a free ride. The most memorable one was this crazy broad who came up to my register, threw a bunch of change at me and just walked out. When I asked her where’s the rest of the money, she mumbled something and just casually drove away. I got the bitch’s license plate and called the cops. When the law finally caught up with this fugitive, I heard from a co-worker that this lady’s husband came in and calmly paid the difference – something like $10. Apparently, the woman was a few fries short of a happy meal and has done things like this before. The reason she gave for her exodus? When you need gas and don’t have enough money to pay for your order, gas stations are supposed to give you the fuel for free.
This lady’s car may have had a full tank of gas, but mentally she’s ran on fumes.
When I started taking a trip down memory lane for the 1992 National League Championship Series (see my 4/15 and 4/16 entries), I remembered what it was like for the Pirates to field a winning team. Better yet, I was part of this by going to Games 3 and 4 of the NLCS. Although the Pirates lost in a heart-breaking Game 7 in Atlanta that year, my interest in baseball didn’t head to the showers afterward. I was also a Blue Jays fan back then. I’m not sure why I took a liking to the Jays; I think it might have been that bird symbol. In fact, it probably was due to that. As I followed this team in the mid-80s, I began to feel for them considering they always choked, both in the regular and postseason. (I'm sure Bored could spend a week talking about the "Blow Jays" of the 1980s and early 1990's.) Well, ’92 was different as they finally made the World Series, but would they have the fire power and pitching to defeat the Braves?
Who knows and who cares – I was getting ready for a party.
If you read the Game 3 recap from my 4/15 entry, chances are you remember my friend who went with me to this game. Well, this friend, Jeff, was going to have a party at his house on October 24. For some reason, his parents were heading off to their daughter’s college to spend a weekend with her and figured Jeff was mature enough to be left unsupervised. On a side note, Jeff’s sister attended Dickinson College and his parents had a bumper sticker on one of their cars that read, “I’m a Dickinson Dad.” The best part? That was the car Jeff was allowed to drive. Anyway, this party was going to be the shizzle because we had another friend, Greg, with a driver’s license that said he was 22 years of age; problem was he was only 17. However, this was a legit license; the DMV screwed up the date on his card. So whenever someone had a get-together and needed alcohol, Greg was the man to call.
In my opinion, your junior year of high school is the best out of the four years you're there. Many of us are old enough to drive and work, which means disposable income and non-parental transportation. In addition, you don’t have to worry about college and all that other crap because you’re not a senior. The junior year is your “free time,” and this October party was going to be our big celebration into pseudo-adulthood.
Besides myself, Greg and Jeff, there were two other friends that were planning this party: Don and Bryce. For weeks my friends were budgeting money for food and a variety of alcoholic drinks. Also, they were planning other aspects of an event like this: Who would be invited? Should there be a cover charge to pay for the keg? How will we enforce potential crashers? You know, all the important stuff. It was finally decided that we would invite a certain number of people, and we would have a $2-3 cover charge, which would finance the booze. We were also going to have Greg, who was a big guy, man the front door and act as the bouncer, refusing to let anyone in who wasn’t on our list.
The plan seemed good in theory, and we were all looking forward to this upcoming weekend. However, a few days before the 24th, there were some signs that were pointing to this being a problematic couple of days. Well, actually, there was only one – and it wasn’t even a sign; it was a map. A map to Jeff’s house that was created by this girl we knew named Shannon who passed it out to just about every kid in school without us knowing about it until it too late to do anything. We grumbled about Shannon’s actions, but we figured it wasn’t a big deal because our “bouncer” plan would keep the riff-raff out.
When October 24 came, we were all psyched. Sometime in the afternoon, we decided to get the half-dozen or so large pizzas we had planned on purchasing for this get-together. While me, Don and Kurt (another friend of ours) went out to get the pizza, Greg, Bryce and Jeff would hold down the fort. Before we left, the rule was not to let anyone in until the three of us got back; strength in numbers and all that. As we left to get the food, we joked about Jeff being “attached” to the keg (he had swigged down quite a few brews already). We picked up the pizzas and returned back to Jeff’s house. When we left there were only 2-3 cars in his driveway. When we came back there were at least a half dozen. For the last few miles to Jeff’s house, Don was saying, “He (Jeff) better not let anybody in.” When we pulled up to Jeff’s house and saw the newly parked automobiles, Don said, as he recognized some of the cars that belonged to people who weren’t invited to this get-together, “Oh that fucking idiot let them in.” I knew this was going to be an … eventful night. That is, if you consider attempted rape, theft, a physical altercation between the sexes and property damange to be "eventful."
Oh, yeah. And the Blue Jays were one game away from winning their first World Series title.
Yesterday I set up the events leading up to a party at a friend’s house back during my high school days. Now it’s time for the exciting conclusion.
When we got back to Jeff’s house, whose driveway was already filled with vehicles, we asked him why did he let people in already when we agreed not to until we got back from getting food. Unfortunately, we didn’t get all that coherent a response, considering he was already on the path to drunkenness. So all that planning of a cover charge and using Greg as a bouncer? Gone. When the first group of people rang the doorbell, Jeff had scurried over to the door and let them in before Greg could do anything. It was at this moment I decided to move a recliner up close to the living room television and just sit there and watch TV. If you ever saw that “South Park” episode with Christopher Reeve and Stem Cells, that’s pretty much how it went. I told everyone that, basically, I “was out” because I knew trouble was on the horizon.
A few hours later more people showed up. Then more. And more. In the early evening I was still planted in the living room watching television as uninvited guests populated this three-story suburban house. Because of a lack of available space, people were “forced” to join me in the living room. Since there isn’t a large contingent of Blue Jay fans where I lived, Game 6 of the World Series got switched over in favor of a Penguins game. It was around this time when some people began making fun of my choice to be a wallflower. “Boy, you really know how to have a good time,” was a common line thrown at me, but I just sat back and said “just wait.”
After a while I got up from my chair and decided to do a rough head count of people attending this gathering. After counting all just about everyone in the basement and the first floor, I totaled more than 80 people. I then went back to my chair. Shortly thereafter the fun really began. I forget the chick’s name, but suddenly I heard screaming from the second floor followed by some other shouting. From what I was told my one friend (I think it was Greg) was up on the second floor when he suddenly heard a commotion from Jeff’s parents’ bedroom. Suddenly, he saw a girl in her bra and panties trying to run out of the room only to be grabbed and dragged back in by 4-5 guys before being able to break out again and locking herself in a nearby bathroom. I should note that there was some consensual penetration going on as well -- Greg told me later that evening that he heard sounds in not only the parents' bedroom, but also in Jeff's and in his sister's rooms. In addition, he found a couple in a nearby broom closet going at it.
Right after this attempted rape, a few drunken idiots that got into a fight over something or other. When the one guy’s girlfriend tried to break up the scuffle, it only seemed to make matters worse. As the girl’s boyfriend stormed out he punched a neighbor’s fiberglass (or some other fancy material) mailbox, shattering it. At the same time someone else took their car and turfed up another neighbor’s yard, leaving several deep track marks in an otherwise impressive landscape design.
During the attempted rape and property damage, a few of my friends began noticing things ... missing from Jeff’s house. In all the action that took place, there were several ruffians that helped themselves to some items in the house. When it was all said and done, it was determined that several thousand dollars of property was stolen. Among the items I remembered that were taken included a set of golf clubs, several extension cords (?), a weed wacker (!), and a number of CDs, video games, video cassettes and sports memorabilia -- the most valuable of which being a football that was signed by the 1985 Chicago Bears team. Actually I should correct myself; the football wasn't stolen, someone just punted it from the backyard deck into the nearby woods. It turned up later, with all the signatures smeared beyond recognition.
As the night progressed, and the alcohol flowed, some of these uninvited guests began to get more physical, and several mini-scuffles broke out; all the while I was sitting in front of the television and watched the Blue Jays win their first World Series championship (I'm pretty sure the final out was when the Braves leadoff hitter -- Lofton? -- attempted a bunt and got out at first base). When 4 a.m. finally rolled around, virtually everyone had left. I decided to help Jeff try to clean up the house, especially since his parents would be back home Sunday. There were some things I couldn’t fix, such as the cigarette burn marks on a variety of furniture throughout the house. Knowing my limits of what I could repair, I decided to do the dishes. As I was cleaning off plates and glasses, that guy whose girlfriend tried to break up a fight that took place earlier that night got into another scuffle – this time with his girlfriend. After some shouting and the sound of flesh being smacked, I turned around to see the girlfriend in question fly through the air and hit her head up against the dining room table. Although she had blood coming out of her, she managed to pull her boyfriend’s earring out before getting tossed. It was about that time when I decided to go to sleep.
When I woke up at around 9 a.m., I looked around for Jeff, who was frantically mopping the basement floor in hopes of getting out the stench of smoke and booze. I asked him how it was going. We both laughed. After helping out with some more cleaning (and loaning Jeff $100 to give to the neighbor with the shattered mailbox), I had Don drive me back home. Of course when Jeff’s parents returned he had to fess up to what happened because, well, the furniture had irreversible damage, the house still smelled like smoke and the garage had a lot fewer items in it when compared to a few days ago. I don’t remember much of the fallout from this, although I know the police were involved, and the weed wacker and golf clubs were returned. As I look back at this event, I can’t help but laugh. Then again, this didn’t take place at my house.
I can tend to be a bit cynical and negative at times when talking about various things, so I figured why not share a happy memory? No, this won’t be about my wedding or a recent holiday experience with my family – like I said, I want to talk about a joyous occasion.
Whenever a kid gets his or her driver’s license (I’m not talking about that hippie permit, I’m talking about the bona fide piece of plastic letting you drive by yourself) one of the first things they want to do is take a few friends and shoot off somewhere to cause havoc and mayhem. Well, my first experience with this passage into manhood took place back in 1992. Now before this time I went with friends on a number of trips to places such as amusement parks and parties/get-togethers, but it was always with someone else driving. This time I would be the person in charge of navigation. What was this trip, you ask? It was to Game 3 of the 1992 NLCS between the Pirates and the Braves.
Back a long time ago the Pirates were actually a good team with good players. Well, they were good until the postseason hit; that was when the Andy Van Slykes, Bobby Bonillas and Barry Bonds(s) of the world wouldn’t hit. The Pirates had lost in the NLCS the previous two years, and this year there wasn’t any reason for optimism. Sure the Bucs lost to a better Reds team in the 1990 NLCS, but they had a golden opportunity to advance to the ’91 World Series but lost to the Braves, at home, in Games 6 and 7. This year, the Braves had gotten better, and the Pirates lost several key members from their ’91 team, including Bonilla. There was no reason to think the Pirates would advance to the Series in ’92, and the first two games against the Braves didn’t leave much optimism for Pirate fans. However, even though the thought of going through another grueling summer of baseball only to see the home team come up short wasn’t too appealing for me, this year was going to be different. Why? Because I was going to go to Game 3 with one of my best friends at the time, and we were going to go unsupervised.
After school ended for the day, we engaged in the initiation of a high-school freshman we had wanted to duct tape to a telephone pole for some time, but that’s another story for another time. After this fun was over, we headed to Shittsburgh in my dad’s pick-up truck that he agreed to lend me for the weekend. We pulled into an underground parking lot and made our way to Three Rivers Stadium. Even though the Pirates got manhandled in the first two games at Atlanta, it was a pretty upbeat environment at the ballpark. You see, back in ’92 the Pirates had this “rookie” knuckleball pitcher that was an unexpected surprise for the team, going 8-1 his first year in the big leagues. Who was this newcomer that was scheduled to pitch in Game 3? Some of you BoSox fans might know him as Tim Wakefield.
When we got to our seats, the crowd, which had been criticized for being lackluster in size and noise, was near deafening even before the pre-game introductions. And when Wakefield retired the Braves in the first inning, the crowd went wild. Even when the Braves took an early 1-0 lead, there was something about this game that told everyone in attendance the Pirates were going to find a way to win. And after Wakefield got the last batter out for the 3-2 victory, every fan at the ballpark had this feeling that the Pirates had a chance in this series; they might not win, but they weren’t going to roll over and die in four or five games. And the best part of this experience is that my friend and I got to enjoy it all to ourselves -- no parents, no chaperone, no big siblings, just the two of us; this is probably the closest I’ve ever been to a Brokeback Moment.
Now even though I had my driver’s license, it was still only a Junior License, which meant I wasn’t allowed to be out on the road after midnight. Well, this game got finished pretty late, and the traffic was crazy when we got to the truck back in the underground parking lot. For a 16-year old who was driving his dad’s stick shift, I thought it would be in everybody’s best interest if my friend and I just sat in the truck and finished off the pizza we bought for dinner until the traffic lightened up. About 45 minutes passed and we decided now would be a good time to head out. By now it was after midnight and traffic was still heavy, but not nearly as congested as it was before. As I pulled out of the garage on the street a police officer on traffic patrol suddenly pointed to me and yelled at me to stop: my heart stopped – was I getting busted for driving after midnight? My friend wasn’t providing much comfort, saying out loud, “God damn pigs, why don’t that just leave us alone? Fucking cops.” When I rolled down my window, he informed me that my headlights weren’t on. With all that time spent in the lighted garage, my eyes got adjusted to the darkness and didn’t realize my need to turn on my headlights. I thanked the officer, elbowed my friend in the ribs for shooting his mouth off loud enough for me (but thankfully not the officer) to hear, and the rest of the trip home was without incident.
Game 3 of the 1992 NLCS was an experience I’ll never forget. I also went to Game 4 with another friend, and that experience was an unforgettable time as well, but for other reasons as I’ll share with you tomorrow.
So I was listening to some sports-talk radio yesterday when I heard a commercial featuring a sound clip from Toby Keith's new album and the following voice-over: “White Trash With Money is now at Wal-Mart.” Sounds like somebody got their tax refund check. It’s funny to hear all this Wal-Mart hate, because if this corporation was really despised that much, they wouldn’t make so much money. Unlike an EVIL~ corporation like, say Exxon, there are a lot more businesses in the retail industry than the fuel industry. Also, how much of a schmoe do you have to be to despise Wal-Mart and the way they do business but shop there in order to save 4 cents off a bottle of shampoo?
I’m not a Wal-Mart hater, but I’m trying to think back to the last time I did any shopping at one of these stores. After much thought and reflection, I’m pretty sure the last time I bought something from Wal-Mart was this pseudo-vacuum in November of 2005 for the basement. Why the reason for my “defiance” of this company that will soon take over the world? Location might have something to do with it, but an even bigger reason is that I don’t want to be around all the white and ghetto trash that populate these stores. Have you seen the people that shop there? Of course you have; it’s Wal-Mart, after all. I think the highlight for me was one time when this kid, who was a few fries short of a happy meal, was throwing a fit over something stupid (all kids do) and his redneck parents proceeded to scream at him louder than he was yelling at them. I love it when the kids win in these parents vs. children fights; always pull for the up-and-comer hick rather than the established white trash.
How could I forget this encounter? Years back I was in a Wal-Mart electronics department when this angry customer caught my attention. Because I love hearing what other people get pissed off about I lingered in the DVD section to hear his complaint. Was he upset because the store wouldn’t return a defective DVD even though he had a receipt? No. Did an employee tell him to “fuck off” when he asked the customer service representative to open the locked video game case? Don’t think so. Here is what the problem was: This guy recently bought a regular television set – wasn’t flat screen, High-Def, Plasma or anything like that; just a regular TV. Well, apparently he wanted to return the television because he wasn’t satisfied with it; he gave no specific reason. However, instead of getting another television of equal or lesser value, he wanted one that was about $200 more expensive. No, he didn’t want to exchange his old television for the new one and pay the difference, he wanted the more expensive set for FREE. Of course, the poor teen-age clerk didn’t know what to say. Many people hear stories of stupid customers and think they can prepare themselves for the encounter, but when they actually experience this stupidity, many times they are like a deer in headlights. Well, after 2-3 managers were called in, nothing was resolved. The guy was getting more and more pissed and the employees had no idea what to do about the situation. That’s when the customer said something that got him into my Stupid Customer Hall of Fame on the first ballot: “Wal-Mart guarantees customer satisfaction!” I burst out laughing and had to walk away because I couldn’t take any more. I’m not sure how this incident got resolved, but if the guy did get new television, hopefully he was standing in a bucket of water while trying to figure out the best outlet to plug in his new prize.
I guess I shouldn't be too hard on the people that frequent Wal-Mart. After all, going there and seeing the dregs of society can really boost your spirits if you're feeling a bit down on yourself. Seeing how I haven’t had to get my fix in some time, I guess I’m doing pretty well with myself.
Swift Terror brought up the Cincinnati riots in his blog entry today, and man were those some fun times (this event took place in 2001, for those keeping score at home). After a black teen got shot by the PO-lice during a midnight chase, some of the more sophisticated folk in Cincinnati decided to frolic and engage in springtime activities like breaking into stores and assaulting innocents. I guess this was in retribution for the PO-lice killing 15 black guys over the period of several years. Of course, all but two or three of these PO-lice shootings involved these poor young men walking down the street. Did I say "walking down the street"? I meant "shooting at the PO-lice" or "assaulting them with a vehicle or some other life-threatening attack." Although the riots took place years ago, there are a few things that have stayed with me. The first is the image of some young thugs assaulting this old guy in his car. Of course, when the youths were caught they were charged with “ethnic intimidation.” Uh, if this is not a HATE CRIME then what is? Oh, wait, the old guy was with his wife, so he wasn’t gay, and he certainly wasn’t black, although he was black-and-blue after the scuffle.
Oh, here’s another oldie but goldie that’s been tucked in the back of my memory for some time. On WKRC’s crappy morning show they brought on some idiot professor from the University of Cincinnati to talk about the riots. The professor started out saying something like, “The problem here is that the PO-lice are out killing YOUNG BLACK MALES.” The conservative host of this morning duo then called the prof on his line of bullshit, basically repeating what I said in the paragraph above about how in nearly all the cases the PO-lice were being shot at or attacked. Without missing a beat, the prof replied, “That’s true, and we must be careful not to use inflammatory rhetoric.” It was at that point I started screaming at the radio while driving to work on I-71.
Did I mention that the New York Slimes called the riots “civil disobedience"? I better add that in here before I forget.
In addition, shortly after this incident some hippie activist group started up an exhibit at the Cincinnati Museum. I don’t remember much about the exhibit, but I’ll never forget the ribbons they were peddling. You see, this exhibit dealt with DIVERSITY, or some shit like that, and if you bought a ribbon then you cared about DIVERSITY. So far so good, I guess -- if you’re into that sort of thing. Oh, but here’s the good part. When you bought your ribbon for DIVERSITY, you got a certain color of ribbon based on YOUR SKIN COLOR. Nothing says "unity" like segregated unity ribbons.
One final note to this story: I remember hearing various idiots saying that the PO-lice and government in general are out to kill YOUNG BLACK MALES. Well, if that’s the case, they’re doing a pretty shitty job of it. I mean crack and AIDS were introduced in the inner-cities to wipe out the black population 20+ years ago, and these people are STILL around; glad to see my tax dollars are being put to great use. I’ve always contended that if you want anything done right you need to go to the private sector. Hell, I might even consider hiring illegals to get this job done – after they mow my lawn, of course.
• So the NCAA Women’s Final Four is over and done with. Go Maryland. Actually, I don’t care about women’s basketball on the collegiate level (or any other level for that matter), but if other people like watching it, and there's an audience for this market, then more power to them. I was watching some highlights this morning of the final game and something caught my eye. Schools have female cheerleaders for women’s sports? Odd. If I was a male athlete, I don’t know how I’d feel if every time I scored a basket a bunch of guys in matching outfits and pom poms sitting under the hoop would get up and dance around – not that there’s anything wrong with that mind you. Oh, and I am sincere when I say congratulations to Maryland for winning the women’s title – I don’t like college sports, but any team that beats Penn State or Duke is OK by me.
• Lovecraft is still waxing poetic on faux hippies, and he reminded me of a college experience. Back in 1998, before he became the first boss of Homeland Security, Tom Ridge was a Republican governor of Pennsylvania. Even though some of his critics, particularly the union crowd, dubbed him “One-Term Tom” he was for the most part a popular governor, and the Democrats really didn’t have anyone to go up against him for his re-election bid. The Democrats brought out some old guy by the name of Ivan Itkin who had no shot at beating Ridge. Itkin came to our school one night to do a taping for our student television crew, and I spoke with him afterward for an article in our school newspaper. He seemed like a nice guy, and although I had no intention of voting for him, I felt he genuinely believed what he was saying. Of course, this guy had no chance of winning; in fact, his campaign strategy was to go around in only a dozen or so counties pimping what he could do as the state's next governor. The problem was Pennsylvania has more than 60 counties. Granted some counties are bigger than others, but with a strategy like that, especially when your opponent is reasonably well-liked throughout the state, you are destined to lose.
After his television segment was over, and before I was about to talk with him, I was chatting with some blonde chick that was part of the student TV production crew. I was waiting for Itkin to arrive outside the studio, and she was waiting for a nearby elevator to come to our floor. For some reason she must have assumed I was a lib just like her because she began saying what a great guy Itkin was and how he’d make a great governor. Obviously, she hadn’t been reading up on current events, because even the more liberal media in the Shittburgh area were questioning Itkin’s chances of victory against Ridge. I had to break it to her that her guy had no shot of winning this election. When she asked why, I explained to her his pisspoor campaign strategy, lack of a war chest and the fact that the evil Republican governor wasn’t so bad, at least in the eyes of the Pennsylvania voters. At that moment she got a dejected look, the likes I have only seen in former blind dates when they realize that I’m the person they’re going to be spending an evening with, and said, “Oh, no. That means we’re going to have four more years of Governor Tom Ridge.” It was at that moment the elevator door opened, and as she walked into it and hit a floor button I said to her, “You’re saying that like it’s a bad thing.” As the doors closed, you should have seen the look of fright and disgust on her face; you would have thought she had encountered the Anti-Christ, or, worse yet, George W. Bush.
• Oh, and for those who wondered what I did on my 30th birthday yesterday, here’s a quick rundown: Went to work, made a vet appointment for Max, who is having issues with going to the bathroom. Left work for a few hours to get him to an appointment slot that was available that day. (If you have a cat, particularly a male, who is struggling to urinate, get them checked out ASAP. Chances are it’s just a urinary tract infection, which is what Max has, but other times it could be more serious, and even life-threatening, as was the case with my in-law’s cat, who had his pee hole clogged up.) Went back to work. Ate at a ghetto all-you-can-eat pizza chain store called CiCi’s. (It’s one of those places I eat at every six months or so, and every time I do I swear I’m never going back. But then whenever I need to intake some more disgusting, greasy food I return and the cycle starts all over again.) Went grocery shopping (saved $40 off a $110 order for those keeping score at home). Picked up Max from the vet. Unloaded groceries. Laid in bed swearing that I’ll never go back to CiCi’s again. The End.
