KKK’s Top 103 Posters
Number 49: Mole
Some people think he’s an idiot, among other things, but he’s OK in my book. It’s strange, though, because I generally despise the “college lifestyle” and believe most people who engage in it need to be taken out to an alley and shot. However, even with Mole’s stories of college hijinks, I consider him an exception to this rule I have regarding those out of high school but not yet in the real world. I don’t know why this is – perhaps because, except for a more-than-manageable school loan, I no longer have my wallet in the meat-grinder that is academia. Also, since he’s now paying for part of the TSM bill, I can rest assured that even if he has a medical condition he’ll put more serious things, such as DVD collections and our Internet message-boarding experience, over his own personal welfare.
And now a word or five from the expert panel I've assembled to comment on the people I've listed.
From Black Lushus:
From EricMM:
From Carnival:
From SFA Jack:
From Cancer Marney:
• Well today was fun. I took today and Friday off from work, as did the better half, and after sleeping in until 10 a.m. we headed out to some farm to get this year’s pumpkins for the Halloween season. Mrs. kkk always gets one pumpkin for every cat we own, which means we’ll be wasting money on three of them, much like we have each of the last six years. Well, that just means more seeds for me to eat after all the guts are taken out of each pumpkin. I have no idea why the better half likes getting pumpkins at this place, which is called Schramm’s Market, but whatever; I’m just along for the ride.
When we pulled into Schramm’s, the thought of romping about in a pumpkin patch wasn’t too appealing to me, considering I’m in the final stages of getting over my first cold of the season. But then when we pulled in and I saw all the political signs that these people had on their property endorsing the Party of Liberty, Freedom and the oppression of minorities, women and the poor, I took solace in knowing that today’s pumpkin purchases were going to a good cause.
But this isn’t where the story ends. We made a few other stops today, and one of them was to a shopping center with a grocery store (Giant Eagle) that is part of the chain I do my shopping at. Since Giant Eagle’s weekly specials start on Thursdays, I decided to stop in and pick up some Pepsi products because this week they are on sale. I went to the grocery store, and Mrs. kkk went to another store to buy candles for the future Jack-o-Lanterns. I got my two 24-packs, one a Diet Pepsi and the other a Diet Mountain Dew (damn you Diet Mountain Dew – this shit is like crack). There was one problem. There was only one Dew in stock, and its side flap was half open. Because there’s no way I’m about to let a discounted Diet Dew slip through my fingers, I carried it sideways, which meant I couldn’t use the top-of-carton handle.
I got to the checkout line and placed the Pepsi case normal side up. I then placed the Dew case on its side so the opening on this pack wouldn’t be a problem. I told the bitchy middle-aged cashier that I had the Dew case on its side due to its one flap being half-way opened; I even pointed to this flap and showed her the opening. She looked at me as if I was some retard who forgot to put on his bicycle helmet. Seconds later she grabbed the Dew cube and set it up straight. At that moment the partial opening turned into a full chasm and about a dozen cans came crashing out. I took a step back and clapped my hands as she spent the next minute or two rounding up all the cans that were scattered over her workstation. I get that customers are stupid – I’ve even dealt with at least a few hundred of them during my cashier days – but not all of us are out to make your job a living hell, bitch. If I really wanted to be a prick, I would have opened a can or two that rolled around just to mess up her counter, but I’m not wasting a single drop of this yellow carbonated goodness on someone who looks like life is already doing a perfectly good job of pissing all over her.
The drive home was uneventful, although I got a laugh from of the one sign I read on some local business’ marquee: “Liberalism is a Mental Disorder. Vote Republican.” Awesome. Someone listens to Savage. Oh, and there was this other sign at a local eatery that read, “Last Diner Before the Turnpike.” (A toll road, for those scoring at home.) A few miles later there was this redneck bar with the following on its marquee, “Last Beer Before the Turnpike.” Sometimes this region amazes even me.
• I had Glenn Beck’s radio show on for a few minutes today, and he was talking about the book O.J. Simpson wrote that talked about how he would have killed his ex-wife and her boyfriend if he indeed was the real killer. Beck was then asking callers where they were the moment the O.J. verdict was read. Hey, good question. Here’s my story.
I was attending the Community College of Allegheny County at the time, and to tell you the truth I didn’t really give a shit about the O.J. case. Of course this guy off’d his wife and that Jew. Anyone with half-a-brain, or, even worse, a registered Democrat, could figured this out. Of course O.J. had a jury trial and a plethora of expensive lawyers, so naturally he was going to be acquitted. If memory serves it was late in the morning, and a few friends and I were talking in the student lounge/cafeteria when one of us overheard that the verdict was about to be read. I pulled out my Walkman and these crappy portable speakers from my book bag and we began listening for the “not guilties” to be read. Of course, we all were young and still had a smidgen of home that justice would be served on this day. Or maybe it was because we liked being loud and obnoxious. Either way, we all started chanting “Guilty, Guilty” in the student lounge. Of course, when the verdicts were actually read we responded with faux outrage, and one of my friends said, “He’s not guilty? I wanna riot!” to which I responded, “Why? We’re the ones who own everything.” Whitey represent. Of course now that I’m older, I’ve come to learn this is so not true. It’s the Jew who own everything.
Actually, I have to thank O.J. because during the trial I was taking a public speaking class and one of the projects was to come up with an ad and act it out in class. Well my friend and I (that same one who wanted to riot) came up with a 60-second ad sketch pimping the “Slice-o-toner” gloves, which featured several “get away with killing your wife” jokes, as well as an endorsement by Mr. Simpson himself. When you can be offensive and get an A for your efforts, you know you accomplished something.
Speaking of this, I just got a flashback to another time when being an asshole paid off. I mentioned this story before at TSM, but it bears repeating. I was in 11th grade and was pissed off because my English teacher gave me a B for the first grading period. Because of this B I missed out on being on the honor roll. Why I cared, I don’t know. I think I was more pissed that I didn’t get all but one B in that class (the rest of my grades were A’s) and I didn’t end up with an A for that nine-week period. Well, for some reason I decided that if I wrote a racially insensitive paper about the ever-so-popular literary topic of “Was Mark Twain a RACIST for saying bad things about black people in his stories?” I’d get my revenges (we had just read Huckleberry Finn in this class). I don’t remember much about this paper, but I recall saying something like, “Twain wasn’t a racist because back then blacks were seen as nothing but dumb niggers who went out in the field and picked cotton all day for their white masters.” I showed this paper to my friend before turning it in, and he couldn’t believe I was going through with this act of “vengeance.” When I got my paper back, I was surprised to see that I got an A (or a check-plus or whatever grading system Mrs. Thomson used) while my friend got a C/average grade for his paper that he spent time actually thinking preparing.
• And now it’s time for the Dr. Laura call of the day (or whenever I feel like doing this). This chick calls in and says that her son (late teens/early 20s, I think) recently served several weeks of jail time for pulling a gun on her. I don’t really know what the lady’s reason for calling was, but she did say that she doesn’t feel threatened around her oldest son (she had three or four more younger kids pop out of her snatch). Why does she think this way? “I feel he’s changed.” Plus he said he’s sorry.
9 p.m.
• So I was at a wake/body viewing/whatever-it's-called-before-you-bury-someone just now. The better half's one uncle who I have never seen before just died. I showed up, sat there and kept my mouth shut. Whenever I'm at one of these events I just keep my head down, shut my mouth and close me eyes. However, as the Serbian priest was doing his thing someone suddenly ripped one while the priest was in a pause (I don't know who it was because my eyes were closed). Why oh why does the Lord push me to such extremes?
• How in the hell do these lottery winners go broke? If I ever took home $100+ million, the last place I'd go to is a casino. Should this ever happen to me, the story would probably go, "kkk was bouncing checks at the local Best Buy trying to purchase DVDs."
• Speaking of winners, here's a local story I've been following since it recently broke.
2:30 p.m.
• I'm shocked ... SHOCKED that Nancy Pelosi would exclude from the upcoming federal minimum wage hike a tuna company in her district.
Guess ol' Nancy doesn't care about the children of Samoa. Regarding the federal minimum wage. I don't care. This is because the faggot Democrats (and Republicans) in my state already jacked up our state rate. At least over in Ohio the dumbasses there voted in a minimum wage hike. I'm just having it done for me. I have had two minimum wage jobs in my life. Know what I did? I got another job. Tough stuff there. I remember the Morgan Spurlock hippie did one of his "30 Days" shows about living on $5.15/hour. I watched about 5 minutes of it before having to take a poop.
7 a.m.
• I've said for a while now how the out-of-control niece-in-law has pissed away 2+ years of money that was to be used for her college education. Well, she also had an inheritance from years ago that was stashed away from her. With that money she bought a good used car about 2-3 months ago. It was a nice car. Too bad I knew what was going to be in store for the poor thing. Within a week there was already a dent in it. There have been a few scratches and the like over the last month or so, including one time the niece drove it over a hill (don't ask). But yesterday, as she was bending over to grab a cigarette, the niece swerved into an oncoming lane and hit another car. The other driver wasn't hurt, and the niece's care got the brunt of the damage, including a smashed driver's side window. Thank Christ I was able to convince my mother-in-law to take her name off that title no more than two weeks ago. If my crack-whore sister-in-law is the equivalent of a real-life sitcom like "Friends," then the niece-in-law is "Joey."
6:45 p.m.
• Mike Awesome died?
Well, that’s not awesome news.
Wait, he hanged himself? Fuck him then.
He was a realtor? Oh come on, there are worse things to be in life. I'm sure there are number of other "retired" wrestlers doing much worse.
• So the better half and I got into a bit of a disagreement over Sunday’s shopping at the nearby “Bed Bath & Beyond.” No, we weren’t arguing about soap dishes or any of that other shit. Long story short: We’re going to Ohio for a wedding in March, and we decided to do the wedding registry shopping thing. Now I’m the first person to admit I’m an asshole and there are quite a few screws loose in my view of the world. However, even though I’m an asshole, I’m a loyal asshole. I wanted to get several mid-priced items that they could use, even if they moved away. Mrs. kkk wanted to get a big gift. I said we should go with my route for several reasons. The primary one was that, unlike the kkk household, this couple hasn’t lived in sin all that long, if at all. They would need more household items. Mrs. kkk then bitched about how they wouldn’t think we bought them much. I had to laugh and remind her that she make a fucking inventory of what everyone bought for us at our wedding. I think these two college graduates would take note that we purchased five items ranging in price from $15-25. When it was all said and done, we spent $110 on a cookbook holder thing, a cutting board thing, a spice rack, a shower curtain and an electric can opener. At least the spice rack was on sale.
This of course brought back memories of my wedding gifts and how we got Jewed to the point I was considering changing my name to kkk-stein. Here’s a lesson, people. You may not like gift registries. I understand. You may not think the gifts you’d be getting won’t be personal. After all, a wedding registry is like an adult’s What-I-Want-From-Santa list. If that’s the case, then either give money or a gift card to a major department store. DON’T BUY SOMETHING A COUPLE DOESN’T NEED. Don’t think getting a “picnic set” complete with four plastic glasses and a pitcher that holds less water than its accompanying glasses is a good idea. Also, don’t be a goddamn Jew. Let me give a real-life example involving one of our TSM brethren.
For my wedding, Swift Terror got us a towel set. You know, the big towels you dry yourself off with, the medium-sized ones I never use, and the little wash rags. That’s good. Want to know what’s bad? On of the better half’s relatives WHO JUST BOUGHT ONE FUCKING TOWEL. Although Swift Terror actually paid attention to our registry, I still need to kick his ass because those were the towels that prompted the better half to paint our first-floor bathroom from a perfectly acceptable light blue motif to one that’s shit brown. (If you look through the door's crack, you can see said towels.)
And why did she decided to paint the WHOLE BATHROOM? So the walls would MATCH THE COLOR OF THOSE TOWELS that are for decoration only. Oh, and she wanted to have these stencils up.
Now I don't personally blame Swift Terror for this defiling because I knew the better half wanted to do this. He just provided the ammo. After all, once you get a nice set of towels, you just HAVE to repaint a whole room before hanging them up, right?
So take it from kkk. If you don’t want to buy a decent wedding gift, then don’t go to the wedding. And if you got me calling you a Jew, you know you got problems.
7 p.m.
• If you haven’t read today’s comment section, it looks like one of Vern’s cats will probably be passing away soon. It’s always a sad feeling when one of your pets dies, especially if he/she/it has been part of your life for a long time. Even though my three aren’t quite ready for the old feline's home, they are starting to get up there in age. Dessa is 8, JJ is 7. And while Max is probably only 4 or 5 years old, he has a few conditions that will probably shorten his life. As I’ve said before, back in 2004 our household had one kitty by the name of Shadow who died after we took him in as a stray just three years prior. While he was just with us for only a short time, he more than made his fair share of memories in our household, including this one I talked about last year.
And yes, the guy Shadow clawed up is the same “Mr. Sterile” that’s in line for a promotion to full-time janitor.
With all that being said, here are some pics of Shadow, which were taken when we lived in Ohio.
The last image when Shadow is telling JJ to step off is probably my favorite one of him, and it brings to mind a funny story. When we first moved back to Pennsylvania, we rented a duplex from my hero who employs his daughter at a shit wage and charges her rent for living in his basement apartment. Our duplex had a pretty large unfinished basement, and this was a popular hangout for Dessa, JJ and Shadow. JJ would always go down there and cry, which meant he wanted some company from his little brother. Sure enough, within seconds, Shadow would head on down to their clubhouse. Of course, many times they would end up wrestling down there, and let's just say JJ is more a lover than a fighter, which is funny because he is quite powerful (especially when he's trying to get away during his bathtime). Pretty soon the better half and I would hear JJ shrieking and screaming from the basement, and when we’d make our way downstairs JJ and Shadow would be in a stand-off with both tails puffed out and mounds of gray (read: JJ’s) fur on the floor. Dessa, of course, would have to see what was going on, and this always resulted in more growling/hissing (Dessa has never cared much for her brothers, no matter who they were). After a few squirts of a water bottle, everyone would scatter like roaches from light. Of course, minutes later JJ would go back down in the basement and start crying once again. And sure enough, we’d then see Shadow scamper across the living room on his way back to their very own Fight Club.
Hope this helps, Vern.
11 a.m.
• Well I hope they bring this asshole to justice.
The GOVERNOR was probably not wearing his seat belt?! I certainly hope he has to pay the fine associated with this intentional law-breaking. Click-it or Ticket, buddy. It's bad enough the esteemed governor of my state takes my nickname of "Fast Eddie" to a whole new level...
... and now we have another official wanting us to do as they say and not as they do.
8:30 p.m.
KKK's Top 103 Posters
Number 29: Spaceman Spiff
He likes to talk about the Miami Dolphins, so it’s only appropriate he is this franchise in the kkk Bowl league, of which he’s a longtime member. He’s yet to make a postseason appearance, but he’s in a division where each of his opponents has made it to a kkk Bowl (Gert T in I, Barron in II and nl-asshole in III; oh man was that a dark day – I contemplated folding the league after that one). With all the parity in the NFL these days, perhaps Season V will be his year. I’ll also give Spiff credit for this: Over at the other place he came out defending the Supreme Communists of the United States and those five red diaper doper babies who said it was OK for the government to take property from private citizen A and give it to private citizen B, all so citizen B can generate more tax revenue for the local government, hence a “greater good” reason for the land-seizing. For Spiff to do this is the equivalent of swimming into the middle of a feeding frenzy and slicing your palms open.
And now a word or two from the expert panel I've assembled to comment on the people I've listed.
From lovecraft:
From Cancer Marney:
8:30 p.m.
• Bloody hell?
When I heard this earlier this morning I figured it was either a misinterpreted joke or Mirabelli is a big-time hater. I hope Gary Thorne comes out of this OK – I used to love listening to him on ESPN announce NHL games.
3 p.m.
• Well I had a fun sight this morning on the way to work. Rather than take the interstate, the better half and I go through this dilapidated shit hole of a community called Wilkinsburg. It’s rather depressing to drive past all these vacant, boarded-up buildings where small businesses used to be. I’m hoping this ghetto plague doesn’t reach my neck of the woods until long after my current residence is sold twice-over. Thankfully, there’s about 10-15 miles between the outer reaches of Shittsburgh and Westmoreland County. Anyway, while driving through Wilkinsburg, I had the misfortune to be driving behind a big rig. Now granted I don’t like driving 20 mph through a predominately black neighborhood when I’m trying to get to work, but what are you going to do? My line in these kinds of situations is, “if I’m in such a big hurry, then I should have left five minutes earlier; that way I’d be in front of this vehicle rather than behind it.” I also had no choice but to mosey behind this truck for a few miles because this vehicle was taking up both lanes going in my direction. As for speeding up in the other two lanes on the other side of the yellow double-striped strip, that was a no-go. First off, I don’t like to do that. Secondly, there was too much traffic to even attempt such a stunt. After a while, this chick in a white car sped up to me in the other lane when I saw the bigrig put on his right turn signal. OK, now time to give him some space as he makes his turn. Of course, this was when the chick in the other lane began to SPEED UP right as the truck was making it’s turn. Another few seconds and she would have went splat right up against whatever this truck was hauling. Thankfully, she had enough space to allow the truck to complete the turn. No, I’m not thankful she didn’t get into an accident because it would have injured this blonde. I’m thankful because my commute would have been even longer considering I would have been a witness. No, I wouldn’t have left the scene, because that guy driving the truck would have needed someone sticking up for him because I can guarantee this chick would have probably tried to pin the accident on him.
8 a.m.
• Why do I agree with the better half every time she insists on having "Taco/Nacho Night" at our house? I know, because every now and then you get the urge to feel like you're going to throw up the morning after and have fire blow out of your hole on the other end.
kkk's Top 103 Posters
Number 19
It was dark times for the Conservative Brigade. Even though there was strength in numbers, it lacked one thing all groups need. A lawyer. Not only are these bottom-feeders necessary to fend off lawsuits, but they can also find out when we were wronged, thus turning the legal tables on the unsuspecting. But who can be trusted to head such an important duty? Vyce? Hell no. He likes those queers too much. That’s when it all became clear. It’s hard to go wrong with someone that starts a thread titled: “ Mikey was at my school...” followed by “No word on if the gym collapsed.....”
You’re hired. And I don't even know if you're Jewish.
What was the point of all this? I don’t know. I just like the guy. And he was listing why ESPN sucks before it became popular. Well, at least before it got some really big threads devoted to the subject. I guess I might as well do the dramatic introduction like I did with yesterday’s entry, providing people didn’t click on the links above, thus running any kind of surprise element.
Number 19 is…
…The Real World’s Champion.
8:30 p.m.
• LOL. Enough said.
7:45 p.m.
• Don't you know that rationing fuel is one of the worst things you can do to a Muslim male?
7:30 p.m.
• Aww, poor baby. Watch his temper tantrum in court here. Caution: I had a crappy time with the video.
And just what was this teen convicted of?
And I bet he was such a good boy, too, eh Ms. Johnson? Why the fuck to parents cry when their little monsters get convicted for shit like this? Rather than wail into a Kleenex, they ought to be wailing on the back of their kid's head, saying, "What the hell is the matter with you?"
5:15 p.m.
• So Neal Cavuto had Tommy Chong on for a segment today talking about immigration. Oh my God.
• And I'm stealing this from the other place because it pretty much sums up my thoughts on today's events in Washington.
1:45 p.m.
• Chyna is on Jim Rome's radio show and caller just asked her if there was any truth that Vince McMahon wanted Owen Hart dead as payback for the way Bret left the company.
9 a.m.
• Aw, this is a shame.
Yeah, Tony Snow, this is going to end up being on "tough" bill (see the 8 a.m. entry).
8 a.m.
• So I’m listening to Dennis Miller’s show yesterday and he’s talking with Tony Snow about this amnesty program. Tony, I feel you, and I’m sure there are measures to “protect the border” in the pages upon pages of this abortion, but if you actually think this bill is going to actually do any of these “lockdown” measures then you’re on drugs. All this stuff about “there’s no line jumping,” “they have to pay fines,” “you don’t have access to the welfare system,” and “you have to learn English” that I’m hearing you say, Tony, as I’ve heard you say on other shows as well, is NOT GOING TO HAPPEN. You actually think Ted Kennedy will go along with this shit? Once this invasion bill gets approved, then the focus will shift as follows.
There’s no line jumping.
Uncle Ted: Come on, guys, Jose is away from his wife and 10 kids that have to wait in front of 2 million others people. Let them pass –– Joes’s not a TERRORIST. What are you, a RACIST?!
They have to pay fines.
Uncle Ted: Come on guys, Jose is picking lettuce 12 hours a day, seven days a week. He can’t afford to pay this fine. You’re taking away food off his family’s table. Joes’s not a TERRORIST. What are you, a RACIST?!
You don’t have access to the welfare system.
Uncle Ted: Come on guys, Jose is picking lettuce 12 hours a day, seven days a week. He can’t afford the medical insurance to pay for all those kids. Joes’s not a TERRORIST. What are you, a RACIST?!
You have to learn English.
Uncle Ted: Come on guys, Jose is picking lettuce 12 hours a day, seven days a week. He can’t immediately learn English right away. We need to cater to his needs or else we’d be a RACIST country. While we’re at it, we also have to make sure his 10 kids that are taking up space in our fine government schools get the same treatment.
So please forgive me if I don’t seem all that confident in this bill’s ability to enforce laws that aren’t already being enforced and view this pro-invasion legislation as just that.
11 p.m.
• Let’s see: Get into work at 10:30 a.m., leave at 9:15 p.m. Why the hell do I do this? Oh, yeah. Because whenever I’m here on the weekends, I won’t be there sometime during the week. That’s why. Besides, the drive home was great. No traffic, clear night, had the NLCS on ESPN radio. Only regret was missing my football games today and I didn’t get to go through my Sunday papers/coupons/etc. Oh well, that’s what tomorrow is for.
But the real fun began when I got home. No, Mrs. kkk wasn’t bitching at me for being at work all day – she was already asleep. The fun came about 30 minutes later when I realized my wedding ring wasn’t on my finger. The fuck? When did this happen? Good thing the better half is asleep. Time to backtrack. Did the ring fall in the sink’s drain when I washed my hands in the bathroom? I can’t remember if I still had it on at that time. I normally take it off and put it on the spice rack when doing the dishes. Problem was it wasn’t on the rack when I cleaned the dishes. Well the cats aren’t playing with anything shiny on the floor, so that’s a plus – but did the already bat it under a couch or major appliance? Yikes. Could it have fallen outside when I was on my way inside the house? No clue. Fuck. It’s been 30 minutes and I can’t find this goddamn thing. I’ve looked everywhere I’ve been so far tonight. The car, the walkway, the bathroom, the kitchen, the living room, the dining room, the bedroom. I’ve sifted through the garbage can, looked in several cabinets, peered down into the bathroom sink’s drain, and peered into a bunch of crevices. No luck. Wait a minute. What about my drawer in which I keep a bunch of useless shit, including my cell phone’s AC adapter, which I took into work with me today. When I opened the drawer I heard a “clink.” Oh thank God.
Now it’s time for bed.
10 p.m.
• So one week ago I found out that the pill isn’t 100 percent effective. Just what happened on that fateful day? Well, Mrs. kkk was at her parents’ house and then I got the phone call. You can figure out who is who.
“I have something to tell you.”
“OK. What is it?”
“I don’t want to tell you over the phone.”
“Then why did you say anything?”
“I don’t know. I just need to tell you something.”
“What happened?”
I wonder if she found porn on our computer?
“I don’t want to tell you over the phone.”
Wait, her dad just went to the hospital with some gall stone issue. Maybe it isn’t about porn on our computer.
“Is it health related?”
“Yes.”
OK, so her dad has cancer, but at least she didn’t find porn on our computer.
“Well what is it? You expect me to just sit here and wait for you to come home and find out?”
“I’m pregnant. I took five pregnancy tests and they all were positive.”
Maybe I would have wanted her to find porn on our computer.
All in all, the better half was shocked I took the news as well as I did. Look, I make no bones about my feelings toward children. However, we’re married, own our home, have decent jobs and have a rather comfortable standard of living (at least by my standards). I guess this is the next step or something. The biggest concern I have is for the health of the fetus (or “the bean” as Mrs. kkk calls he/she/it). My dreams of all this being one big mishap were dashed when we went to the doctors on Tuesday and everyone was just going about this like she was actually expecting. No, “well, your positive tests could have been the result of too much fiber” or something like that. No such luck.
We’re not sure when the actual conception took place, but right now the docs are guessing Mrs. kkk is four-six weeks knocked up. Here’s how fun my next eight months are going to be: When we went grocery shopping this week, she wanted some Chinese noodle dish. After we got home she said she wanted me to make it because she was feeling tired. Christ, she’s going to pull this shit now? OK, so while doing the dishes already in the sink I made her dinner. After slaving over the stove I brought her food out. I went back in the kitchen to make my dinner. Suddenly I see her running with her hand over her mouth into the bathroom. Seconds later I heard it. “BLLLLLLLLLLLLECH.”
Now come on – I’m not that bad a cook.
10 a.m.
• Since I’m doing GREAT this week, let’s seal the deal:
Arizona @ New Orleans (4.5)
I was going to go with the Cards, but I heard that several Cardinal receivers will be game-time decisions.
Atlanta @ Tampa Bay (3.5)
This one might be interesting to see in regards to how the Falcon players react to their coach leaving. How much more can these guys go through.
(3.5) Baltimore @ Miami
The Ravens shot their wad against the Patriots and got rolled over the next week against the Colts. Now will they come back with a vengeance against the Dolphins or will Miami finally get that first win? Christ, I don’t know. If I go with Baltimore then Miami will win for sure. If I go with Miami, then this will be another one of those weeks where I say, “they have to win SOMETIME” and the ‘Fins don’t. Well, because it’s always fun to see the Ravens lose, I’ll go with them, surely giving Miami its first win of the season.
Buffalo @ Cleveland (5.5)
You know, I was going to go with Cleveland. Then I looked outside and saw how shitty the weather is and figured it can’t be much better in Cleveland. Here’s hoping for a close game.
(9.5) Green Bay @ St. Louis
Uh-oh. Favre’s playing and it’s a DOME. Wait, he’s already won in a dome this year? OK.
Jacksonville @ Pittsburgh (3.5)
The Jags always play the Steelers tough, so I’m sticking with them. Steelers will score 17.
N.Y. Jets @ New England (23.5)
Once again, I’m hoping Mother Nature does a better job of keeping the Pats at bay than the Jets.
(7.5) Seattle @ Carolina
It’s Carolina at home.
(4.5) Tennessee @ Kansas City
I have nothing to say about this game. Uh, go Tennessee-D?
(10.5) Indianapolis @ Oakland
I have nothing to say about this game. Uh, go Indianapolis-O?
Detroit @ San Diego (10.5)
Here’s hoping the Lions pulled a “Ravens” where they put everything out on the field the week before and now are ready to get rolled over. Come on, Lions. Quit.
Philadelphia @ Dallas (10.5)
Most people have been talking about the Patriots wanting blood against the Jets. How about T.O. and the Eagles?
Washington @ N.Y. Giants (5.5)
I’m used to this by now. The Redskins will outplay the va-Giants for three quarters and Emily will throw three touchdown passes in the fourth quarter.
Chicago @ Minnesota (9.5)
Now that Minnesota is the TEAM NOBODY WANTS TO FACE IN THE PLAYOFFS, I’m wondering if they’ll cast a stinker now. Actually, I feel kinda bad for the Vikings quarterback. He was getting blasted early on, but I saw a stat last night that said the team was 7-2 when he starts. Uh, yay?
kkk's Top 103 Posters
Number 3: nl5xsk1
Yes, you read that right. The poster known with one of the more annoying names to type has cracked the number 3 spot on this list. “But kkk, how can this be? You’ve been calling this scat-loving fiend ‘nl-asshole’ for years. How can he be listed so high? Did he pay you off? Did he find you a MILF? What happened?” Well, I’ll tell you what happened.
This "nl-asshole" thing is all a giant SWERVE~!
You may find this hard to believe, but I generally don’t put a lot of thought into my message-boarding. When I’m scrolling down a thread, I rarely spend more than a few seconds reading a post, and when I get to the end of a thread, I typically type the first few thoughts that come to my head – no matter how nonsensical they may be. And on 8:48 a.m. on September 29, 2004, I read the following post by nl5xsk1 in a thread titled “List your aliases.. old board names...”
and I just felt like typing...
That’s it. That’s how this great “feud” started. Let me recap: For more than THREE YEARS I’ve been involved in a shootout of insults with someone because of a split-second thought and a few keystrokes. One my say I’m breaking KEYFABE right now, but this is, at its heart, an internet message board, and this is a SHOOT, baby. The Ross Report doesn’t have shit on this. (Is the Ross Report even around anymore?)
So, yeah. Over the years I’ve shaped this “hatred” for nl5xsk1 to include such witty banter like:
However, the highlight of this e-feud, which has spanned multiple message boards, came during kkk Bowl III when nl5xsk1 actually won the whole thing – well, it’s sure a lot better than him not bothering to show up for the posteason.
Are we typing?
Is this mic still on?
Well thank God that’s over and done with. I didn’t know how long I could last saying nice things about this cocksucker. And by “cocksucker,” I mean cocksucker.
1 p.m.
• So I have said in the past that I don’t like flying. In fact, the last time I was on an airplane was back in 1996 during a trip to California just before I met the future Mrs. kkk. Why don’t I like flying? Well, there’s always the chance of crashing into the ground from 10,000 feet. Yeah, I know the odds are much greater that I’d get killed by a fellow motorist than I would by a shitty pilot. However, the illusion that I could actually do something about my status on the highway is a better feeling. If you’re on an interstate and some truck in front of you has a bunch of shit loosely tied down to the roof then you could switch lanes. When you’re in a plane, there’s not much you can do unless you have a parachute strapped to you and near an exit. However, there are other factors that have nothing to do with drunk pilots and pisspoor mechanics.
The passengers
Here’s what I said a while back regarding my Going … Back … To … Cali… in the 1990s.
And while my experiences dealing with passengers during this latest round of flying I just didn’t wasn’t as bad as my ’96 experiences, it didn’t help matters. It amazed me how many people tried to carry on luggage that was too big to fit in overhead compartments. Jesus Christ, I haven’t flown for more than a decade and I was smart enough to take note that my one piece of luggage wasn’t deemed acceptable for overhead storage. Then again, these people are probably the same type that I dealt with in my Quickie Mart days that tried paying for a 25-cent pack of gum with a $50 bill. But I digress.
Connecting flights
So the plan was for my boss and I to take a flight from Shittsburgh to Philadelphia and then from Philly to Albany, N.Y. However, when I got to the airport I found out that we were instead going to New York City. This also meant that our departure would be a few hours later than the Shittsburgh-Philly flight. Great. Well, after my cross-state flight, I ended up in LaGuardia Airport. Holy fuck is that place a dump. And to make matters better, I had to wait a few more hours until this one plane from Harrisburg landed here because that was the vehicle to take me to Albany. One problem: This plane was running late. Whoopie. Here’s another bonus: LaGuardia only had a handful of stores, and most of them featured “I [heart][/heart] N.Y.” Oh, yeah, like I’m going to get that shit. Then I saw Hitlery merchandise. Even better. Fuck. I ended up getting a U.S. Snooze & World Distort magazine that talked about previous election cycles. One thing I like about U.S. News is that they do some neat “looking back” pieces. I remember in ’00 they had an interesting feature about the ’48 conventions – I’m pretty sure it was that year because it dealt with Truman and Dewey. Where was I? Oh, yeah. LaGuardia.
So while waiting for the Harrisburg plane to arrive I sat by the gate because you can only walk the halls a certain number of times before people start thinking you’re a terrorist. My boss and I were supposed to arrive in Albany at 4 p.m. It was past 4 when we heard that the Harrisburg plane had just taken off. After an hour or so we were told that the flight to Albany was seating for Zones 1-8. That sounded odd. Then when I stepped onto this massive transportation vehicle I noted that I was in “Zone 8.” And by “Zone 8” I mean the “eighth row.” The actual flight itself wasn’t too bad. I remember flying on a smaller plane when I was kid vacationing in Florida, and as a bonus I didn’t have to sit next to anyone.
We got into Albany at around 6:30 p.m. just in time to see news television shows talking about the stock market’s REMARKABLE DAY~! When I was at LaGuardia all the news shows were talking about RECESSION and the STOCK MARKET TANKING and other gloom and doom pieces. Then after my shitty flight to Albany, it’s a MIRACLE REBOUND. Then again, these are the same people that thought Obama was going to crush the Hildabeast by double digits in New Hampshire and that by 1985 the earth was going to freeze due to global cooling. And who wonders why people are skeptical of the mainstream media?
So Wednesday I was at airports from 9 a.m. through about 7:30 p.m. All to get on two one-hour-flights. My boss, who travels all the time, said this is the first time in a long while this sort of thing has happened to her. I said I’d gladly take the blame for this if it means a raise. However, the best was yet to come on the way home on Friday...
7:30 p.m.
• So there is this poster WHOSE NAME WILL NEVER BE REVEALED UNDER PENALTY OF DEATH that is recapping his trip to some overpriced corporate theme park. Reading his entries of unforgettable family moments got me the thinking of the time I went to the Magic Kingdom.
I can’t remember how young I was, but my old man was in-between his second and third marriage. After he married my old lady, she divorced him (probably for good reason) and sold the house that he spent YEARS fixing up. Serves him right. Before marrying wife number three he spent some time with this other woman. He was with her for quite some time, actually. Enough time to completely renovate her basement into an apartment that she got to charge rent to tenants. Oddly enough, she dumped him afterward. If I were even somewhat observant, I’d be detecting a pattern here.
Well anyway, I was going to Disney World with him and Wife 2.5. I can’t remember if there were any other people with us. There might have been; I just can’t recall. Before going to Disney World we stopped at some diner for breakfast, which is surprising enough considering the old man HATES to eat out. Now I didn’t like eating eggs, especially ones that are sunny-side up. When that yolk breaks it just looks so … blech. I wanted to order this other breakfast deal that included a muffin and a few other not-so-messy items. This drove pops over the edge because I guess not eating eggs for breakfast is just one step away from turning queer. So he threw one of his usual fits of rage and REFUSED TO TALK FOR THE REST OF THE DAY. Now if this were to happen today, I would find it funny as hell. But when you’re a kid this stuff freaks you out. I also overheard him bitching to pseudo-wifey later that night when I was supposed to be asleep about me, which just did wonders for the rest of our time in Florida. The only thing I can remember from the actual trip was that Small World. And from the MYSTERY POSTER’s recap of this ride, it seems like not much have changed. But whatever, I’m on a roll talking about the old man.
For as crappy as every trip with the old man has been in my life, nothing could compare to the time he went to Florida with his soon-to-be-wife-number-three and her bratty grandsons. I think I was in 8th-9th grade when he asked if I wanted to go with him and company to Florida for another round of family fun. Vividly remember my previous experience many moons ago I respectfully declined. Can’t remember the reason: I think it was “this was my first summer not having to go to summer school in some time and I wanted to just stay at home.” Yeah, I was/am quite the scholar.
A few weeks later the old man called me and told me about his trip. Here’s what happened in a nutshell. They got a hotel some distance from Disney World. No surprise there. (What, you think I got my cheapness all by myself?) The grandkids got mad because they wouldn’t have breakfasts/dinners at the theme park due to the prices. Once again, no surprises. After a day or so the grandkids then called their mother (the daughter of my future mother-in-law) to complain. The next call was to a local Child Youth Service agency (or something similar). The AUTHORITIES paid dad a visit and said the kids in his care were citing abusive behavior and squalor living conditions.
Wow.
All I have to say is that after this experience, I think dad appreciated me just a smidgeon more than he used to. Sure I was/am a fuck-up, but damn… Damn.
Family – lol.
• I love local news, and not in a good way. While Medium-Large Media have their own agenda and chose to ignore stories that don’t have to deal with Abu Ghrab and Halliburton, the more local stations focus on the good stuff, like cops catching some kids peeing in a water supply. A local story in my neck of the woods (although Drudge has since picked it up on his site) deals with this 10-year old who is protesting, with her parents’ consent, over getting “picked on” by school administrators for wearing mini-skirts to class. Of course, with this added attention, I’m sure it will just lure in some of her male classmates to oogle her without knowing why they’re doing so. And of course if something happens to her, like a when group of boys trying to look up her dress at the bottom of a stairwell, her parents will be the first ones bitching to the school about this inappropriate behavior.
Well I see this sort of thing isn't just limited to my neck of the woods. Maybe if parents cared about the quality of education their kids were receiving as they did with the local school's dress code, we as a country might fare better in those academic competitions where we always get beat by those dang Asians.
• As of this writing it looks like the Pirates are still be winless this year, leaving them and the Phillies the only teams without a victory so far this season. And while this team sucks on the field, their marketing department is even worse; then again it’s not like they have much to work with. This year’s slogan/campaign is “We will…” Before the season started, these two words were followed up by words like “Persevere,” “Fight” and “Not give up.” I’m sure there are a few more descriptive words that can follow “We will,” but the ones I’m thinking of don’t portray the team in an all-too positive light.
• I was eating an Eggo waffle this morning and something caught my eye when looking at its nutrition information. According to the Eggo box, one waffle is 100 calories while two waffles are 190 calories – huh? I guess if you eat three waffles then it’s only 270 calories. Going by this math, I guess once you get waffle numbers 11-12 you are home free; I'm sure your carb count will probably leave something to be desired though.
• I finished my first year of franchise mode in Madden ’05, and one thing I like almost as much as playing the games are the various off-season tasks to do, especially scouting and drafting rookies. This off-season had no significant departures from my team, save for Jerome Bettis who was pissy because I wasn’t starting him. So going into this draft, my only real need was to have a power back. I did some scouting, and when it came time for me to make a selection I was torn between a few running backs and a tight end that would really come in handy. The problem for me was that the tight end was projected to go in the second round and the several running backs available were projected to go in the first round, meaning the backs would probably end up with slightly better ability stats. There was some concern with drafting any of these first-round backs though, because I had some doubts about any of these them being high in the “break tackle” category, which is what I was really looking for, and the tight end had some excellent combine stats and a full slate of positive reviews. I bit the bullet and picked the tight end, figuring a decent back would be available next round (there were a few backs I had my eye on that were projected to go in the second round, and the tight end pool in this draft was really shallow; the tight end I was eying up was the highest projected player at his position). I bit the bullet and selected the tight end, and after selecting him got treated to a chorus of boos, meaning my fans weren't too thrilled with the pick. However, after I signed him to a contract, his stats were revealed: 78 overall, which was higher than either of my current tight ends and an excellent score for a drafted rookie. I’ve done a few pre-season games so far in the new year and I’m taking a real liking this guy. Although I still don’t have a “power back,” (my highest rating in this category among my three half backs and two full backs is in the low 80s) I’ll take this tight end over any of the rookie backs that were recently drafted.
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.
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.
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.
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.
KKK's Top 103 Posters
Number 100: Anorak
I don’t know much about Anorak other than he lives in the U.K., and I don’t remember exactly when we first lovingly gazed into each other’s eyes. Anyway, for some time we constantly name-called each other in a number of threads, but then something strange happened: we actually started to get along better. We even PM’d each other a few times and had some civil discussions about soccer (or football, for non-Americans out there). And besides, for the longest time he had the cutest Avatar of some stuffed animal/puppet thing, which made reading his posts that much more entertaining, especially when he said things like, “You're a racist cunt yourself so please spare us your utter stupidity, ignorance and hypocrisy in future threads of similar nature. Thanks.” I may not know what the hell those euro-posters are talking about in their soccer threads, but here’s hoping one of Anorak’s teams ends up winning their league, or whatever it is they play for over there.
• Today’s lunch excursion was a real joy. There’s a Wendy’s just down the road from where I work, and I felt the need to consume the goodness of a triple cheeseburger (without the onions, of course). This store isn’t too big but it’s efficiently run for the most part (as many Wendy’s are from my experiences) but has a duo at register that is by far the best cashier-tandem I’ve ever encountered at a fast-food joint. One of them wasn’t working today and there was some other gal to take her place. You could tell she was new to the position and had the old deer-in-headlights look every time a customer asked her something. Couple this with the fact there were a half-dozen families in line and I began to regret my decision to come into the store and place my order. (Their lot was half-full, which is usually a good indication of whether or not to enter the store, especially during a lunch rush.)
What I hate about family orders is that the parents, nine times out of ten, have zero control over their spawn when they’re trying to place their order. Couple that with the cashiers having to put together Happy Meals, or whatever they’re called at other places, and it only adds to the prolonged wait. Then, to top it off, the parents sometimes try to make their kids order for themselves, which is a horrible idea because the kid is a) either scared to talk to a stranger wearing a hair net, or b) they don’t know what to order and you have to spend 10 minutes trying to get them to say “hamburger kids meal.” Of course, all the while these families are taking up valuable time, the customer line continues to grow. Naturally, these families don’t realize this, and the poor cashier has to deal with the rest of the herd, who by now have grown quite impatient.
The problem was with today’s lunch rush was that half of these “family orders” were done by the kids’ grandparents (either that or these parents decided to conceive REALLY late in life). The only thing worse than kids ordering are 80-year olds who never forget to mention that they get the “senior discount.” Not only do these people have no clue as to what’s going on around them, but also they never know what’s on the menu and don’t bother looking at it until it’s time to place an order. Also, when their order is finally placed on their tray, they attempt to engage the cashier in small talk and it takes them an hour to finally shuffle themselves away from the register.
Well, you couple the one cashier who didn’t know what she was doing with the other cashier who had to deal with two grandparents and three screaming demons, you can imagine how fun my time in line was. But I will count my blessings in this instance. After all, my order took about a minute to complete, and thankfully I got there before the lunch rush, so even though my wait was unnecessarily long, it could have been much worse; the line was almost out the door when I sat down and started to eat. Oh, and the triple cheeseburger was filled with all that greasy goodness that you can experience when consuming one of these heart-attacks-between-a-bun.
KKK's Top 103 Posters
Number 93: Smues
Much like Sideburnious, Smues is one of those posters I don't talk with much, but he seems like a good enough guy. Hey, he makes fun of Barry Bonds and ESPN, along with Mikey Moore. You can't win me over any more than goofing on those three subjects. Well, maybe you could if you also pimped Gauntlet Legends. My n*gga.
And now a word or two from the expert panel I have put together to comment on the people I’ve listed.
From SFA Jack:
From Porter:
• Oh Chirst, there’s a reason I don’t go grocery shopping on Sundays, and I re-discovered why. I think the worst part wasn’t the screaming children but rather the people who shop right after church and they have way too much perfume on. Not even the coffee aisle, with that sweet aroma, was enough to counter this old lady and her scent o’ death. That’s the last time I deviate from my normal routine of going grocery shopping Tuesday after work.
• And while I was out grocery shopping, the better half, her dad and her brother came over to do something to our front yard. (When the better half does any kind of home improvement project, my only rule is to let me know if the property catches on fire and I have leave the hosue; otherwise, I just leave her alone.) Whenever it rains water seeps down into our fruit cellar, resulting in puddles being formed all over the floor in this little room where we mostly store food, cleaning products and cooking devices. It’s not like the basement is going to flood anytime soon, but it’s annoying to have to watch where you step when bringing up food in the pantry upstairs. They dug up the front yard and put in some pipe, which will now send the water that is destined for the basement out onto the street. Honestly, I don’t know what we’d do without Mrs. kkk’s brother. He’s a mechanic by trade, and a mighty good one, too. Not only that, but he’s pretty much everything in a man that I am not. He’s excellent with tools, knows how to fix just about anything under the sun, and goes hunting and boating. In other words, he’s a real man’s man while I am, well, you should know that answer by now.
It’s funny because when I first started dating the better half, her brother didn’t like me for the longest time. I think it took six years or so to finally warm up to me. I don’t fault him; after all, I was fucking his baby sister. He and his wife (who is also quite successful in her professional career) have a nine-year-old son and a seven-year-old daughter, and for some reason they both adore me. Don’t ask why because their parents can’t figure this one out either. While the brother-in-law helps us out with a number of things like the aforementioned drainage system, we try to return the favor, mostly by baby-sitting their kids or helping them move from one house to another. However, there was one instance where I was the hero of the day, and it took place last Christmas. Every December 25 we head on over to the brother-in-law’s place, along with the rest of the immediate family, and celebrate Christmas there. Hey, as long as I don’t have to play host I’ll gladly eat someone else’s food and let them clean up. Well this past holiday, they had some people from out of state over, and they had a son about the same age as my niece-in-law. Turns out all three of them wanted to play Playstation, particularly the Looney Toones Space Race Game a certain uncle bought for them (see my April 22 entry for more information about this story). As my brother-in-law tried to get the game working, he was having an unsuccessful time at it and had his daughter bring me in to remedy the problem. After hitting the green reset button, everything worked fine, and the three kids started jumping up and down in glee saying, “Uncle kkk fixed the Playstation.” As my brother-in-law and I returned to the living room I remarked, “With all the things you build and fix for your kids and us, I get the most praise for turning on their video game system.” He laughed. After all, he may be able to fix a car but I know how to make the Playstation work.
KKK’s Top 103 Posters
Number 85: Ant 7000
In honor of Bill Lester, who will be mentioned later on in this entry, I’d like to say that Ant700 is THE FIRST BLACK POSTER TO MAKE IT IN KKK’S TOP 103 POSTERS LIST SINCE WILLIY T. RIBBS 20 YEARS AGO. I normally don’t agree with Ant on race-related issues, but he speaks so well. Besides, he knows his rap music. I may not know who today’s young rappers are, but I’m with Ant in saying peace out to Ol' Dirty Bastard. Also, he tries his hardest to answer that age-old question: "Why do black men go after fat white girls?"
And now a word or two from the expert panel I have put together to comment on the people I’ve listed.
From Carnival:
From EricMM:
• Someone from the Associated Press is reading my blog. How else could you explain the lead in this article? (Look here for the orgins of where this stupid joke came from.)
• While watching Ghana stun the Czech Republic 2-0 earlier today, I couldn’t help but think back to when I laced up the cleats and participated in this regional soccer tournament back during my school days. Every year this college about an hour or so from where I lived hosted this tournament, and its rules were pretty much the same as the World Cup’s; we played three games from our group (although each group had more than just four teams) and then the winner of our group played the winner of the other group in our division. In our first two games we won by scores of 1-0. Even though we didn’t lose and allow a goal, we were still in danger of not advancing because there was another team that was 2-0 in group play and had scored more goals than us, which was the first tie-breaker. We won our third game 3-0 and managed to advance to the final game. Funny enough, we were playing against another team that was also from our area/township. In 90+ degree heat we played to a scoreless tie. We then played four overtime periods, which also went scoreless. The game ended in a 0-0 tie, and even though we didn’t “win,” this tournament was a great experience for me because during my soccer days I played the position of defenseman. My team may not have won the whole thing, but when you play good defense you can be assured that you won’t lose, either. Well, at least you won't lose before tie-breakers are factored in.
Anyway, the reason I got a flashback to this tournament years ago was because in the Ghana/Czech game there was a penalty kick which was whistled off and had to be re-done. The same thing happened in my championship game. Our team got awarded a penalty kick, which would have sealed the deal for us. When the players got lined up, our forward kicked the ball into the net. However, the referee called the goal off because about 20 seconds before the kick someone FROM THE OTHER TEAM walked across the space between the kicker and the goalie (our player missed on the second attempt). To this day I still don’t understand the reasoning for the call back, especially considering that once the penalty kick was taken, play got stopped and the defending team got the ball back in the form of a goal kick. But in the end I got my medal, so it's all good.
• I'll say this about the referee in the U.S./Italy game. If he called a game in South America like the way he called tonight's match, I don’t think he’d be leaving the field alive. Oh, and earlier in this game I could have sworn I heard a “bull…shit” chant. Other countries sing, dance and play musical instruments at the World Cup; we yell “bullshit” over a bad call. Then again, I’m sure the other countries are saying equally obscene phrases, along with probably other chants like “Death to Israel” and “Jihad Jihad Jiahad” it’s just that I can’t understand what they’re saying. Finally, as I type the U.S. still hasn’t scored a goal yet in a game-and-a-half. The only goal they registered was from an Italian player putting it into his own net. I know we Americans have to import just about everything we use, but has it gotten so bad that we need to start importing soccer goals, too?
KKK's Top 103 Posters
Number 83: BDC
He likes to kick some liberal ass and doesn’t consider lethal injection to be one of the dirtier forms of offing a convicted murderer. In addition, he’s the unofficial ninja of the Conservative Brigade. How can he not be on my list?
• Rick Santorum, I love you and all (in a non-homo way, of course), but letting us know that there were weapons of mass destruction in Iraq isn’t going to erase that 18-point lead Bob Casey, Jr. has on you in the ’06 election. Face it, there’s no way you are going to beat the son of a popular former governor. Not only did you piss off your base by supporting Arlen Spector in the 2004 GOP Primary over conservative Pat Toomey, but the moderate Democrat voters are going to side with Junior because he calls himself pro-life, which I guess passes as being “moderate” enough to be a moderate Democrat, even though I'm sure he'll just tote the party line in any abortion-related vote to reach the Senate. Add to this mess that Ed Rendell will be bringing up the dead in his ’06 re-election bid and you’re looking at a recipe for an election-night loss. You served two terms. Good job. Now go out, get a more lucrative job, and feed your 20 kids while this state continues to go down the shitter by electing Democrats.
• Back when I used to watch wrestling, I remember that Torch Web site had this feature when Wade Keller would let us all know how wrestling had been accepted into the mainstream every time some actor bodyslammed a villain on TV or when some kids at a local mall would tell girls walking by to “suck it.” I have no idea where I’m going with this but Hulk Hogan has just put his mansion near Tampa on the market for $25 million.
• The other day I talked about my groundhog-killing neighbor. Now time to talk about the other residence next to me. When it comes to neighbors I’ve learned that it’s best to just keep to yourself and leave them alone. If they want to be friendly and chat every now and then, that’s fine, but it’s been my experience that most people don’t want to be bothered. Anyway, ever since these people moved in about a year or so ago I haven’t said two words to them. Their dog, on the other hand, won’t shut up any time I come in within 200 feet of her; the dog’s name is Clowly, so I’m guessing it’s a female. So last night I was watering this portion of the back yard that has recently been re-seeded, and Clowly gets let out on her chain. Of course she barks the entire time I’m out there, which doesn’t bother me. However, as I was wrapping the garden hose up and taking it into the garage, these neighbors start yelling at the dog for barking and take her back in. Uh, you did NOTHING for the 10 minutes I was out there when your dog was yapping away, and now that I’m done you decide you can’t take the noise anymore and bring the dog back in? If you would have waited another minute or two, your dog would have quieted down, and you wouldn’t have had to try and pretend like you give a shit about your pet, or what she does outside.
• I haven’t watched the NBA Draft in years, but this time around I decided to give it a shot. Wow was it great, but for all the wrong reasons. Not only did we have Screaming A. Smith and friends telling every draft pick why they suck right when these players were living their life's dreams, but we also had the New York Knicks draft a player who wasn’t even at this event, which was hosted at Madison Square Garden. I’m still trying to decide what I liked better: David Stern asking Dan Patrick when the ESPN crew will have something nice to say about one of the draftees, or the crowd’s reaction to the Knicks’ first-round selection. I don’t follow college basketball, so I have no idea which team “drafted best,” but it seems that the Trailblazers tried to give themselves a makeover with two top 10 draft selections. Also, how funny is it that a senior from Duke is going to be, according to the ESPN experts, the “leader” of the Atlanta Hawks?
• While I’m on the subject of college basketball players, this idea to double the number of teams playing in the March Madness Tournament is a really stupid idea. It’s bad enough many universities offer second-rate educations; they don’t need to have their second-rate basketball programs queering up everybody’s brackets. You want in the dance of 64 +1? Don’t lose during the regular season. This isn’t college football, where one win usually eliminates you from BcS consideration. Well, maybe if you’re one of those small conferences where only the conference tournament champion gets in. Then again, if you’re the top seed in the Colonial-West-Tech Conference and lose in your tournament’s championship game to a sub-.500 school, then what makes you think you’ll do any better against a Duke or Kansas?
I’m starting to tune out of the World Cup, but I found it funny that Switzerland, of all countries, had one of the top defenses in the tournament, not allowing a goal during its World Cup run. At least not during the regulation/stoppage time. Penalty kicks were another matter.
• There will be no KKK’s Top 103 Posters entry today, because I feel like talking about something gayer. Good job Czech (or whatever he’s calling himself nowadays) for showing us once again that a picture can be worth a thousand words (even if it's not available anymore). From an AIM conversation earlier today:
KKK’s Top 103 Posters
Number 78: Kahran Ramsus
Whenever a bunch of immature dolts get together to wax politic on a message board, things can sometimes get out of hand. Thank goodness we have mods like Kahran Ramsus to keep us hoes in line. I haven’t talked much to him during my time here, but he’s one of the people that make this place go ‘round. And when he signed up in my football contest last year, I got the pleasure of interacting with him more than when he just closes threads I help queer up.
And now a word or two from the expert panel I have put together to comment on the people I’ve listed. (And yes, this really is her.)
From Cancer Marney:
From EricMM:
Chazz1998 recently asked me a question regarding my 6/25 entry about how some cashiers get the “deer in headlights” look when thrown a curveball by a customer. He asked, “I was just wondering whenever you handled register duties at a previous job and had a "deer in the headlights" moment, did any customer's ever give you shit about it?” Well, I was a teen-ager, and I was a male, so the answer to this is: Oh hell yes. I spent my formative years working on the front lines of entry-job hell: fast food. While in high school, I gained much wisdom from the many adventures I encountered along the way. My first pearl of insight is: Never piss off fast-food workers when it’s 15 minutes until closing time and you can’t see what they are doing with your food. Another observation is if you don’t want to have your customers throw a tantrum, put a reasonably good-looking chick at register instead of a dopey guy. Believe me, this works. Whenever the slightest thing went wrong with an order I was responsible for, even if I had nothing to do with the snafu, the customer usually acted like I had just wiped my crack with the Shroud of Turin and asked him if he would like to super-size his order.
Here's a trip down memory lane regarding this subject. I was working register for McDonald’s with another cashier when suddenly we got hit with one of the most chaotic dinner rushes I have witnessed anywhere. Not only were we at least 10 orders deep, but drive-thru was getting swamped as well. Now I’m know I have been a part of busier shifts, but what made this suck was that we were so under-staffed for this. My "deer in headlights" moment came when this family ordered something like 10 cheeseburgers that had to be made a special way, without the onions I think. Well, when my special order came up, it was grouped with a bunch of other burgers. When I went to put bag my order, I realized that a drive-thru chick who got to this pile before me didn’t notice the special order slip for my order and just took a handful of cheeseburgers, swiping several of mine. Of course this was my fault and the head of this household blurted out to me, “Well you better find which ones are our; WE PAY YOUR WAGES!”
The reason I bring this story up is because had I been in the back making these beef discs and an attractive female co-worker been dealing with the customers, she probably wouldn’t have had much, if any, criticism directed toward her. How do I know this? I’ve witnessed enough times this magic happen, especially if the person who’s doing the ordering is a man. I guess these guys think that if they act kind and cordial that somehow an attractive cashier will ask to suck his dick in the restroom or something. Now there are exceptions to this; homely looking girls manning a register are just the same as if a guy was standing there. Also, if the male customer is with a date, then this false chivalry might not happen. However, more times than not, greeting a customer who walks through the doors, or pulls up to a drive-thru window, with a pretty face will lessen the chance of them getting pissed off should their order be made wrong up or delayed.
KKK’s Top 103 Posters
Number 74: Buffybeast
She loves her hosses and hates black people. While I may not understand her infatuation with hairy beasts like Albert, I certainly can’t argue with the latter, especially since she is of the same race as those she despises most. On top of all this she serves her country, which is always to be commended. However, when hearing that she wants to bang rednecks and Commanding Officers, one has to wonder if she’s in the armed forces for her sense of duty or wanting to get white boys to stand “at attention” when they are lying down? I guess it doesn't matter in the end as long as she doesn’t get caught. I say don't ask don't tell, even if you aren't a homo.
And now a word or three from the expert panel I have put together to comment on the people I’ve listed.
From Cancer Marney:
From EricMM:
From Black Lushus:
• So France lost to Italy in the World Cup final. Gee, that’s too bad. I think my favorite moment came when Zinedine Zidane head-butted that Italian guy and got tossed out of the match as a result. Way to cost your team the championship, Frenchie. I have no idea who this guy is, but apparently he’s really good and stuff and was going to retire after this match. Hey, when Jerome Bettis played in his final quest for a championship, he only potentially cost his team a win with the divisional playoff game against the Colts, not in the Super Bowl. The funny thing is that not only did France play the better game, but also I’m sure Zidane would have been a valuable addition to his country’s penalty-kick lineup. And while I’m on this subject, one thing I don’t like about the World Cup was the shootout determining the world champ. It’s kind of a copout to run up and down a big-ass field for two hours only to have the title game decided by a gay shootout. The NHL does it best in their postseason; if there is no winner at the end of regulation, let them play until they drop. At least this way there will be more of an effort by both teams to score a goal, rather than having each team play not-to-lose and wait for penalty kicks. And now the 2010 World Cup will be held in South Africa. I wonder what there will be more of – goals scored in the tournament or players catching the AIDS?
• As much as I think he’s a piece of shit, I have to give Pennsylvania governor Ed Rendell props; this douche sure knows how to campaign. For the first three years of his administration all this asshole has done is raise taxes and sign in pay raises. What has he done in the past week or so? He appealed to conservative Democrats, of which there are plenty of in the Keystone State, by signing legislation silencing those “God Hates Fags” idiots from protesting the funerals of our military personnel. Fast Eddie then appealed to his base constituency – those who can’t make more than $5.15/hour thanks to this horrid Bush economy – by jacking up the state’s minimum wage by $2/hour over the next year. On this matter I should note that the congress is “GOP controlled,” or at least it is allegedly. But on the bright side of things, this will probably bring about more of those self-scanning personal shoppers I’ve talked about in the past, which take the place of cashiers and other entry-level workers, who are supposed to be the beneficiaries of a minimum-wage increase. I always love hearing how you can’t support a family on minimum wage; you’re not supposed to. Before producing kids you can’t afford, can you please put a bullet in the back of your head?
• A while back I talked about Shittsburgh’s newest mayor Bob O’Connor. Even though the guy’s a Democrat, I like him (for now). After all, when it comes to urban areas, you take what you can get, and O’Connor seems like a genuinely good guy. Well, he was just diagnosed with cancer, but is expected to pull through. Get well, Bob, because God knows the city needs you, especially since Shittsburgh’s Shity Council just “signed on” to the Kyoto Treaty. Like I’ve said before, thank Christ I don’t live in this city or the county encompassing this shithole.
• Linebacker Roderick Green of the Baltimore Ravens just got stabbed at a bowling alley. I’m not going to goof on this guy because from what I heard on the radio, he did everything right in this situation by trying to avoid this confrontation. However, I have to wonder if a certain Ravens linebacker is starting to get worried about his spot being taken and is out to shank the competition?
• An apparent terrorist attack stuck India today and so far 130+ have been reported dead. I have to wonder if there’s any coincidence that this attack took place on 7/11, which is national convenience store workers day? While I’m at it, what’s up with terrorists and 11s? You have 9/11. You have 7/11. You have Spain’s bombing, which took place on 3/11. You had last year’s bombing in England, which although didn’t take place on the 11th day of the month, has a close enough sounding date (7/7). Is planning massive acts of terror on an “-even” day one of the few things in this world that actually pleases Allah?
• Since I talked about minimum wage yesterday, I found this funny. It’s only a matter of time before some red diaper doper baby judge not only rules that inmates be paid not a minimum wage but rather that hippie “living wage.” Of course, they’d also still get free health care, meals, housing and anal sex.
• Phil Garner said in a recent interview that he understands firsthand how important having home-field advantage is in the World Series. Uh, Phil, your Astros got swept by the White Sox last year – would you rather have lost the fourth game in Chicago rather than Houston?
• Over the years Major League Baseball has done some things I liked (doubling the amount of postseason entrants) and some things I didn’t care for (inter-league play during the regular season). However, the dumbest thing has to be this “winning league gets home field advantage,” after all, because THIS (exhibition) GAME COUNTS. If we’re going to include this meaningless contest into how the league handles it’s postseason, then how about giving AL/NLCS home-field advantage to the team with the better spring training league? After all, we want our baseball players to be playing like they mean it in the Cactus League.
• So Hollywood is engaging on some stupid “rolling hunger strike.” Typical stupid limousine liberal crap. However, I was curious to see if Mikey Moore was part of this protest. I headed over to his Web site (OK, OK, here’s the "real" one), and he had a link showing everyone who has signed up to be an Ethiopian for a day. Now while Mikey is pimping this Left-wing form of protest du jour he isn’t actually on the non-eating list. I'll leave the rest up to you.
A few days ago I was talking about Lottery People and how they are different from you and me. To recap, there are two basic types of Lottery People: Those that play games like Powerball and those that go the scratch-off-and-win route. In my recent entry I talked about the “numbers” addicts, and said that for as pathetic as these people are the scratch-off zombies are worse.
Now trying to determine which faction of Lottery People are worse is like trying to decide if you would rather encounter a bunch of black people or Mexicans in a dark alley with $100 in your hand; it usually comes down to one’s personal experiences. While the “Powerball” Lottery People have annoyed me more often during my time working at the Quickie Mart, the “Instant Win” Lottery People have produced more memorable encounters. There’s one that tops them all, however, and it’s a wonder I didn’t get fired from this one.
It started off innocently enough. This middle-aged chick came in and bought a bunch of $2 instant-win tickets. She seemed harmless. Not only did she come at a time when the store wasn’t busy, but also she went to a corner of the store to do her scratching. Many times Instant Win Lottery People just stay at the register and muck up the counter with that scratch-off residue. However, about 10 minutes later she came up to me and said that the one lottery ticket was “defective” and wanted a new one. Whenever a cashier receives a winning instant lottery ticket he or she has to first scan the ticket in the lottery machine. The machine will then ask for a three-digit code that is found on the instant-win ticket. It is only then when a payout is issued. If the three numbers aren’t punched in, there’s no cash payout. (This was back 10 years ago, so I’m not sure if the same process has to be performed.) The issue this woman had was that when she scratched the shit out of her cards she was erasing this three-digit code, too, making her tickets void.
There was a problem with this woman’s request. One of the first things I was taught at the Quickie Mart was NEVER to exchange a used lottery ticket. Now when you’re at a dead-end job you have “rules” that are commonly broken in the name of shutting up whining customers or something of that ilk. Then there are those rules that you are not allowed to bend under any circumstances. Anything dealing with the Pennsylvania lottery fell under the latter. I told this woman that I couldn’t take her “defective” ticket and give her a new one. She started getting pissy with me and whipped out the old, “Well the other guy who works here gave me new tickets,” to which I replied, “I’m not that other guy. And the other guy wasn’t supposed to do that.” This bitch then took out a pen from her purse and demanded to know what my name is, even though my nametag was right in front of her face. I responded by grabbing a writing utensil of my own and asking for her name and phone number. When she asked why I said, “So when you tell your lies to my manager about me I can call you on your line of bullshit.” I never got a number. And she did end up calling my manager. It turns out the “other guy” she had referred to was the boss’s husband.
While I’m talking about Instant Win Lottery People, here is my second most memorable moment. It was Christmas Day 1996 and our lottery machine was down. Now once again one of our “never break under any circumstances” rules was that when the lottery machine goes down you don’t pay out any tickets or sell any non-scratch tickets. Well of course because there are plenty of lazy people out there who give out lottery tickets as presents, I turned away quite a few customers with winning scratch-off tickets. This one guy threw a fucking fit over not being able to get his $1 prize. I told him that the computer system is down and there is nothing I can do. He then whipped out the old, “What’s the big deal? It’s only a $1 ticket,” to which I replied, “Well if it’s only a $1 payout, then what’s the big deal of waiting for when I am permitted to accept the ticket?” He then started to storm out and said those famous words every cashier has heard a million times: “I’m never coming back here again.” This prompted my co-worker at the other register to mutter out “oooooo.” The customer was half-way out the door, stopped, turned back around and yelled, “OK, who said 'OOOOOO'?” My co-worker put his head down and the idiot customer walked up to him and said, “What’s your name?” and looked at his nametag. “Derrick. I’ll remember that name, Derrick.” By this time I was biting down on my tongue so hard that if I had put any more pressure on it I would have tasted blood. I looked at Derrick and replied, “Good job. Now I’m going to have to laugh out loud at this guy while he’s still here,” and began to do just that. This sparked a chain reaction with the other customers in the store. When it was all said and done about a dozen people in the store laughed this guy right out of the place. I don’t know if he ever called to complain about Derrick.
