Sunday, May 31, 2009

Tattoos and Piercings and Mods, oh my!!




(Yes, I used Angelina for this. Why the hell not?)

First, let me start off by saying I have nothing against tattoos or piercings. I have five tattoos and a pierced ear. Kind of traditional, though. I got mine in the 80's, back when they were pretty much still the domain of bikers, the military, and convicts. I even worked in a Louisiana tattoo shop designing custom flashes (designs) freehand. Yep, there's people with my artwork running around. One is this girl we called Rat - she had a thing for rats. I made up one of a rat clawing into her... wonder how THAT'S looking twenty five years later.


(Cool tattoo. Big, but cool. Just sucks that he'll never see it.)
Tattoos. Years ago, they were just individual designs scattered about the body so that if you had enough of them, you looked a little like a graffiti'd wall in some slum somewhere. My father had 22. My son is new generation - he has three that I know of, but in traditional places. Very nice ones, too. The artwork is totally different - no pictures you can get from a gumball machine anymore.

Traditional places, you ask? They were places that could be covered if needed. No hand or face tattoos - nothing says blowing that accounting interview like a Gothic Fuck You tattoo on your neck. Or worse - the teardrop.
INTERVIEWER: Umm.. says you have a degree in accounting - sorry, I'm distracted.
TAT GUY: By what?
INTERVIEWER: Your tattoo. The teardrop. What's that about?
TAT GUY: Oh that. That's nothing. I killed a guy in prison while I was getting my degree.
INTERVIEWER: (shifting uncomfortably) Uh... huh. Okay... well, we DO have an opening in our janitorial staff...

So much for the prison education system. And on women - I have nothing against tattoos. Love them. But think before you put one on - these are for life. Men (yes, not fair, I know) can get away with more body "shift" when it comes to tats. Most are on our arms, backs, or chests. Gravity doesn't affect us much there. So when you get that butterfly on your breast - take care of yourself! Otherwise you'll end up with a gay dragon.


(Tramp Stamp beautifully done.)
And if you go for the infamous "tramp stamp" (we love them) stick with something tasteful. They're meant to be sexy. For the most part, they are. But some... are just scary. Like the one below...

(Oral fixation, have we?)
I thought it was just and oversized butterfly at first. Turns out it's a slutty Rorschach test. Tells me that it's not a tattoo - it's a bull's-eye. Anyone who goes within five feet of it is going to need penicillin. Just as bad -

(got a nickel?)

Almost makes me want to shave mine off. But enough about that. Let's find the truly - shall we say - unusual individuals? The ones who can't find a job where they're exposed to daylight. Like say you had a blind date and this greeted you at the door...


(and lo, the Gates of Hell opened and threw this ugly fucker out.)

If you weren't blind at arrival, I'm pretty sure you would be right after. I like piercings - ears, belly buttons, tongues, the little nose ones - and even the occasional nipple. But damn! What are these people thinking? They do know that they MAY live past 30, right? That at some point, they need to make a living?

In researching the piercing images, I was reminded of some of the places people liked to get them. Ouch. NO ONE will ever get me to willingly get my scrotum pierced. And body hooks? Are you fucking serious? Why would anyone want piercings that could get them hung up at a loading dock? Imagine airport security.
SECURITY: Empty your pockets,please.
PIERCED: They are empty.
SECURITY: I'm detecting metal. Could you take it out, please?
PIERCED: Okay... if you insist (ZIIIIP!)
SECURITY: (wiping away vomit) Holy fuck! Why would you do that? Twelve times?
PIERCED: Enhances sexual pleasure.
SECURITY: Yeah, but who'd want to fuck it?

See the dilemma? And then there's mods. They're leftover parts, mostly. I think they put them in with a power nailer. And yes, that's his actual EARS.

(No, keep the magnets away! Stop fucking around!)
This guy is actually one of the milder types. Guess he plans on going to hell and wants to look the part. Can't be to pick up chicks.

Unless he has a blind date.

Saturday, May 30, 2009

Coffee, the true fuel.


Coffee. I'm addicted. Here it is, nearly midnight, and I have a fresh cup sitting next to me as I type. Unlike some people, the caffeine doesn't keep me from sleeping. Guess I'm lucky that way. Downside - I have to always to have it. Good thing it's not that expensive, or I 'd have to mug little old ladies or turn tricks to pay for my habit. (That's a lie. I'd never beat up an old lady.) Well, unless I drank only Starbucks. Then I'd have to be a stoplight bum after work.

ME: Five dollars, five dollars man, hook me up!
STRANGER: Why? So you could buy drugs or alcohol?
ME: No, man... Cinnamon Dolce Latte.
STRANGER: (shakes head) Pathetic. Here's four bucks. Get two real coffees. Tim's is around the corner.

Let me describe my daily coffee routine. Some of you may recognize it.

1. Wake up. Stagger to the coffee maker. Pour a cup and down half in one swallow.
2.Go to the bathroom. Come out and finish the cup. Pour another, smoke a cigarette, and finish it before I head into the shower.
3. Pour a travel mug and jump into traffic so I have enough time to get a cup on my way to work.
4. For lunch, a sandwich and you guessed it - coffee.
5. Call home on my way from work so that there's a fresh pot on when I get there.
6. Final pot of the night. Decaf? Fuck that. It's a wonder at this point that my heart doesn't burst from all the caffeine. (Oddly enough, my blood pressure and pulse are always normal. 170/110 and 340 beats. What? That's not normal?)
And there's this image I have in my head about coffee - when I picture it, it's in a cup - heavy, solid, almost bulletproof. In a diner that smells like bacon and hashbrowns, where old men sit with hats on and read the paper. And it costs about fifty cents. Good stuff. Somewhere along the line the granola munchers got it and turned it into this -


That's right. Foo-Foo coffee. Half caf (What the fuck? Half caffeine? Why? What's the fucking point?) soy latte with no foam. Okay, first - NOTHING soy should be anywhere near coffee. You want something that tastes like soy? Lick a diaper. Close enough. Foam? It's a LATTE. It's supposed to have foam.

These "Coffee Shops" are supposed to be cool. The service for the most part sucks - half the time I get the wrong coffee. I ask for a bold. They look at me as if I farted. "You want anything in it? Vanilla syrup?" I say no. Must've farted again. Then they give me a mild. No flavor. Shit. And God help you if you ask for a large. These half a dolts can't figure out what it is in Barrista-ese.

The customers are usually young, or pretending to be. Lots of laptops - everyone's a writer, even in Winnipeg. Of course, if you come in dressed in work attire (translated - orange overalls, a safety thing,) they look at you as if you have a booger on your nose. Never mind that half of them couldn't manage a thought that didn't require spelling with letters AND numbers. Gr8. Like this kid I saw yesterday... help me out here, would you?

(mild examples.)
I guess he was what they call an Emo - like a Goth lite. He wore Converse low tops, black capri pants (I shit you not) black shirt with fishnet sleeves, Alice Cooper style eye makeup, earrings (the body mod type) and carried a black and white checked purse. Far cry from the old man reading a paper, huh?

I had the privilege of standing behind him. He stepped up to the counter and placed his order - half caf soy chai latte, no foam. CHAI? That's fucking TEA! You ordered a diluted TEA??? And he paid five bucks and change for it. I ordered a black COFFEE. BOLD. When we both stepped away from the counter, guess who got the booger look.

Not the Emo.

Thursday, May 28, 2009

Cable and Twitter...




Funny... I rebuild cable TV plant systems. Upgrade so that people can get their next generation of channels that they'll never watch or increase their internet speed so that their porn isn't as jerky in live feed. Oh, and can't forget their phones... god forbid they use a cell. Or the more reliable PHONE COMPANY.

I'm a Twitter addict. It didn't occur to me till today that while I'm working, there's houses with people trembling and scratching themselves in withdrawal as they wait for their cable DSL to come back on so that they can find out what Ashton Kutcher is doing on the set of his next movie. Or where the next Ding-dong drop is going. (If you followed Twitter, you'd know.) Cable - is addictive, whether as TV, internet, or phone. People can lose their power - no trouble. No water - not a biggie. Gas - I got a microwave. Cable? They lose their fucking minds.

No judge shows. No soaps. No Oprah. No (as one my favorite comics, Lewis Black, puts it,) Dr. Fuck Phil. They actually have to do something. Maybe get off their ass and read a book. Work in the yard. See what life is like outside the living room.

No online games, no Facebook, no MySpace (which no one cares about anyway, except maybe pervs) no Digg, no - Twitter. AAAAAAAAAHHHH!! Wait - you can twitter via text! Fuuuck... your phone is more than a year old. Not gonna work. You meant to upgrade, but you were busy watching TV....

So, me and the guys I work with knock out entire neighborhoods all at once. It usually takes the better part of a day to restore service. People wander out of their homes like zombies in search of brains. And always the same obviously stupid question. (My drill sergeant used to say the only stupid question is the one you don't ask. Apparently he never worked in customer service.)

IDIOT: Cable out?
ME: (up on pole, working) Ummm...yes.
IDIOT: Would that make my internet go out?
ME: You got it through cable?
IDIOT: Umm... yes.
ME: Then yes.
IDIOT: Well for how long?
ME: Couple of days maybe. Depends on how many more STUPID FUCKING QUESTIONS I have to answer. (Actually, a few hours. But it's fun to watch them squirm.)

Then they stare at you. Or have their kids or relatives come and ask how much longer. Or both. We have fun with it sometimes... and hey. If I can't Twitter, why should they? So I sometimes deliberately slow the pace to watch them sweat and talk to themselves. They wanna know what Kirstie Alley is up to, dammit! (BTW - Kirstie is one of the FEW celebs who'll actually take a moment and hold a conversation with you directly. She did it with me a little over a week ago. Love ya, Kirstie!)

It's like yard time at an insane asylum. People want their Mafia Wars, their Facebook, their Twitter. They want to be able to connect with the world.

As long as they don't have to leave the house.

(This blog post is not a product or endorsement of Twitter or any of its celebrity participants. Any reproduction without the expressed written consent of Twitter or its affiliates is perfectly fine, really. No one fucking cares, least of all Twitter.)

Tuesday, May 26, 2009

Fun with Guns...



Okay, back to the funny. Or at least what I think is funny. On its own, these things are facts - but some of them are pretty preposterous. Just the same, I like to use them to agitate some of my more ummmm.... liberal Canadian friends. Kind of reinforce the American stereotype for my own amusement.

One of the biggest differences is how we look at guns. Yes, Canadians have them, but they have to be kept in a locked steel gun cabinet with the ammo stored separately. Handguns are virtually unheard of - not that they don't exist, just not legally. In America, assault rifles can be kept in a china cabinet and you can have a Glock in your nightstand, loaded. (For my Canadian friends - a Glock is a high powered semiautomatic pistol. Like on TV. American TV. We all have them - ha ha)

In Canada, you can buy a gun - rifle or shotgun - for hunting, but it has to be registered with the Federal government, and they can turn you down for shoplifting gum when you were ten. Can't have weapons in the hands of known criminals. Unknown criminals are okay, though. In the States, you can go to a pawn shop and buy a Tec-9 "semiautomatic" machine pistol (this actually happened to me) and the guy will tell you how to make it full auto and build a silencer with stuff from an auto parts store. He even offered four magazines and a carrying case. And pistols - it's a little tougher. You got to wait seven whole days... after all, we almost had a president get killed by a cheap handgun. Cool, huh?

If you are attacked in your OWN home in Canada and shoot your invader (provided you get all the fucking locks open, find the ammo, load and get a shot off BEFORE he caps you with his stolen and smuggled American handgun,) you can and probably will be arrested for assault with a deadly weapon with intent to kill and probably spend time in prison. The guy who robbed you will get a ticket and can sue you for pain and suffering (it's happened.) In America, especially the Southern states, they have something - we'll just call it the "needs killin'" law. Same scenario, but you dump a magazine into him because your Glock is handy AND loaded. Cops come, and because the bullet riddled corpse is facing inward, he needed killin'. Can't have criminals just livin' and all... hyuk hyuk hyuk. No charges filed. It's happened.

Even gangs are different - except for the international gangs, like the world's biggest biker club. I ain't mentioning their name. I like my life. But I seriously think that crews like the Crips and Bloods send their non shooters up north. In the States you have drive-bys and massive firefights. Some of these guys are better armed than third world countries. Here they got really cool knives. No drive-bys to speak of... unless they find a stolen and smuggled American gun. Even then... well, when you only have twelve bullets, you can't waste too many. But they DO have cooler gang names here - ZigZag Crew and Indian Posse. Pretty imaginative, really.

So basically it comes to this. In America, we have the right bear arms. In Canada, we have the right to be bare of arms.

I love the smell of cordite.... lock and load!!

Monday, May 25, 2009

For the Fallen... but not Forgotten.

The saddest song ever...

I thought I would take time from my normal writing to remember the men and women who fought and fell in the defense or ideals of our country. Yes, I live in Canada now, but I will always be an American. I am a wartime veteran (Desert Storm,) as were many of the men in my family of previous generations - World War I, World War II, Korea, and Vietnam. My son enlisted as a Marine during the outbreak of the war in Afghanistan. Our family was fortunate - though some were wounded, we lost no one. This is for those who lost what is most precious to them. I thank you and salute you.

Time tends to forget. History becomes dusty and a tool for academics. But there was a time when it was lived, and though it's nearly 100 years past, we need to remember those from the First World War. They fought the most brutal of modern wars.


World War I cemetery in Belgium.


Trench warfare, where most often being shot was the
 least of your problems.















Thousands died in battles for a few kilometers of land, only to have to fight to retake it again. Trench warfare was used for the last time as a primary method of combat. New ways of fighting would soon take over, including tanks, planes, heavy machine guns, and the dreaded chemical attacks. Disease and muddy trenches made life miserable for  someone already fighting to keep his country and himself alive for one more day. By the time the United States entered the war, it was a bloody stalemate, but along with our allies we  finally began breaking through. Despite this, may soldiers fought and gave their lives to return stability and freedom to Europe, though some would never come home again.


World War II. Much has been written and said about this war. It was the first totally global war, and hopefully the last. From the Pacific Rim to Europe, Americans fought inch by bloody inch to regain freedom from oppression. It was also the first time we were attacked on our own soil by a country that did not border us.

















Both of he above pictures were taken at Omaha. Over 2200 men lost their lives on that beach alone in a single morning. This didn't include the casualties on Sword, Gold, Juno, and Utah beaches. All those who landed that morning had a single goal. For that I and we are eternally grateful.

There was a war that has nearly been forgotten - Korea. While it didn't result in a totally free Korea, those in the southern half are living a life in which they can prosper. Maybe someday it'll extend to the north.




















Images for Korea were hard to find, but I think the grieving soldier says it all. These men struggled every bit as hard as those before them. My gratitude.

Not every war was popular, but that doesn't mean those who fought and died in them deserve any less respect. Most of my uncles fought in the following war... Vietnam. It was unpopular, difficult, and when I studied it for the first time, I found myself embarrassed. Not by the war - these men had little choice - but by the way their own countrymen treated them. My friends, you will NEVER receive that treatment from me. This also marked the first time that all races fought side by side.





















The impromptu cemetery photo was taken in Chu Lai. More than 58,000 men and women lost their lives in this war, and I for one, will never forget their sacrifice.

In the past 19 years we have been involved, in one facet or another, in a war in the Middle East. Desert Storm, Afghanistan, and Iraq. Volunteer soldiers fighting a major war for the first time in over 100 years. I don't care about the politics - save that for another day on someone else's blog. I just want to pay my respects to those who have fallen.
















The soldier above is alive, but struggling with PTSD. I found that out while reading about the image. My prayers are out to him.

Throughout the country there are people who look at their folded flag in its glass case and remember. The smiles, the laughs, the person that was. The person that gave everything. They will shed a tear today. Toast your beer to them. I'm sure they would to you.

I extend my thanks to my fellow brothers in arms to all Allied nations throughout the years - especially the British and Canadians. They were thoroughly reliable friends and gave just as much.

Regardless of your politics, for a moment - just a moment - take a breath and say a small prayer to those who gave of themselves so that you may have what you have. Even if you don't believe in God, take that time to say a simple word.

Thanks.

Sunday, May 24, 2009

Dogsitting and Running a Prison...

... are a lot alike. Now I'm not reducing those incarcerated to the level of dogs (or worse, vice versa,) but it's true. I found that out this weekend. Some prisons are too small and overcrowd quickly. I live in a side-by-side (in American - a duplex. Duplex has a different layout here.) If it were a jail, it would be something akin to a County lockup. You get the idea.

So, in keeping with the prison theme, we have a boxer and a pug. Actually, I don't have either of them, but the boxer, Zeus, thinks he's mine, unless there's someone else with food or his real owner comes home. My dog, Lancy, is a cocker spaniel (see pic on this site.) Not the prison type - he wouldn't do well here. Both dogs are fighting breeds (yes, pugs are fighters - that's why they have no nose and are so fucking ugly. They are tenacious and have major cojones, though. They'll fight anything and not stop. I guess I would too if my name was Chachi.) These guys are the lifers. They're here for the duration. We'll call them the Zuzu Crew.

Well, the Zuzu Crew run the place, have all the priveleges and regular mealtimes and go into lockdown at night. Like prison. It's actually cheaper to feed human prisoners, though (some federal pens can do it for 1.50 a day - these two are about 3.00 a day, without treats.) Probably tastes better than prison food, too.

So we get a call. A new set of prisoners are on the way - or, my girlfriend's other daughter is coming up from the states and bringing her sweet dogs. "Really, they just sleep all the time, and they're not that big. Pups." Well, that, and I get to meet her other daughter. Okay, cool. For a carton on American smokes.

Like prison.

The new dogs arrive. I can almost hear the cries of "fish!" from the Zuzu Crew when they get here... and they're a pair of Great Danes. Fuuuck. Didn't build a stable for these horses. We all get aqcuainted in the back yard while the dogs run about, setting up their heirarchy. Like prison.
Zeus, head of the Zuzu Crew, tried to establish that he was the alpha dog. Even tried to fuck the other two, but A. he wasn't tall enough, and B. hard to establish yourself as a stud when you're trying to fuck a dog's forehead. Doesn't inspire confidence.

The other crew - now known as the DD Crew (DD = two Danes) fought back. They adopted Chachi as their mascot. Soon Zeus found himself as the prison bitch (see below...)



It wasn't pretty. The DD Crew did a beat-down while Chachi got his revenge. All the leader of the Zuzu Crew do was take it. In the ass. Like prison.

The DD Crew have an advantage - they know they're short-timers. They're heading back to the freedom of Nebraska soon, and the Zuzu Crew will once again run the asylum. Chachi better watch his ass.

Like prison.

Friday, May 22, 2009

Swine flu... or another media pandemic.

First, before I get too far into this, I have to show you what I mean when I say - you REALLY need to understand women. Especially when it comes to gifts. I thought this was funny, because I actually know a woman or two who wouldn't hesitate to do it. (Present company excepted, of course.) Take a look....

I guess some guys really ARE that dumb. Get her the diamond - it'll make her happy AND shut her up. Or you could just go through life with a dent in your forehead - kind of the scarlet letter of dumb-ass.

Speaking of pigs - oh, like you guys have never been called that - you haven't? Well, then you're one of those hopeless romantics, the kind of gentleman who always puts his woman's (if he has one) every whim first, who worships the ground she walks on. A feminist's favorite. A fag. (I don't mean gay, either... gay men have more self respect than that.) Oh, where was I? Right. Pigs. Free associate to...

Swine flu. H1N1, or whatever you want to call it. What bullshit. Malaria and AIDS are wiping out people left and right - you might hear about it once a year. A fucking FLU - something that comes out every year like a new model car - hits and kills a couple of old people and kids and it's a viral ARMAGEDDON! Know why? Because you'll never see malaria anywhere near a CNN broadcast center, that's why. It's diarrhea and boogers, for Crissakes! Get over it and worry about the REAL diseases!

It's the stupidity of the whole thing. One styrofoam head gets the fucking sniffles and they close down a whole school. Oh yeah. The kids are loving that. Pretty soon they're gonna shut down the whole country - oh, wait. Mexico already did that. Never mind.

So here's what Swine flu looks like in Saskatchewan - and I think Wisconsin, too. I cleaned it up a little - the original image was too hideous.

(stage 3 - beyond the cure.)

Now if we had a worldwide epidemic of THAT -then we would have reason to run to the hills and wear useless paper masks. It's the mainstream media... they got bored and needed something to run with. The President isn't fucking up enough to make the news, so they jumped on this. Pathetic. Don't we have enough OCD types without the media making them agorophobic too?

It brings me to this as well... well the photo does. Don't people who pose for this shit - or for that matter, amateur porn - even realize that once it hits the net, it's out there forever? They're all gonna laugh at you. Especially me. At least try and make yourself look good. Every day i get requests on Twitter from these barely legal 'ho wannabes inviting me to their MySpace (where you can get some form of cyber STD) or adult dating site profile. Ten years from now they're going to go into the job interview of a lifetime, and the guy giving the interview is going to recognize her. Or maybe her fiance will catch her online doing a threesome with two guys that equal four of him. Either way, she's fucked.

And this time, she won't like it. But hey.... there's always a new flu...

Thursday, May 21, 2009

The Adam Lambert Conspiracy and Reality TV.

Yeah, I decided to take a page from Gene Simmons and use whatever I can to whore myself on the media. In this case, we both used Adam Lambert. I added conspiracy to help generate search hits. Genius, huh? I heard that - I am not an asshole. Well, not completely. Hell, everyone used him to generate noise.

I'll admit - and if you've read anything else I've written, (Stupidity on TV, ha! More whoring,) I watch reality shows, no matter how unreal. Well, except Survivor. I tried that - it was too dumb, even for me. And I'm a Family Guy fan, so what's that tell you? So despite myself, I watch American Idol. Have since it started. The original appeal was laughing at the horrendous auditions. Problem with that show is that you get into watching an individual get crushed each week. Now I know the Romans must've felt when their favorite gladiator got his head lopped off in the Coliseum. But at least the gladiator didn't have to sing his way into oblivion afterward.

Through the seasons, I've seen a lot of winners do jack shit. Kelly Clarkson took off - good for her, and Carrie Underwood is a huge star, but not in the arena for WHICH SHE WON! Fuck, Bo Bice should've had that. At least he never forgot the fucking words. Clay Aiken (shudder) came in second and SMOKED Ruben in album sales. Now Ruben has relegated himself to Gospel - nice, but not exactly where he thought he'd be. And Fantasia? That Minnie Mouse talking chick? What the hell happened to her? And one winner - The gray haired guy. Kinda tells you how much I remember about him. Fuck, a genuine parade of losers. Seems to pay to be second. or third... right, Chris Daughtry? Dunno about last season's winner, David Cook - the guy with the giant puppet head - yet. I only heard one song and I thought it sucked.

Then there's this season. I watched as people who should have been bumped were spared, and vise - versa. Alison should have been in the top three, at least. Danny should have been in the top two. You always knew where his songs were from. And I thought I knew who had to be the winner. Hell, we even took to calling it the Adam show. And the finale - Kris does a vanilla bit with some country singer whose name I can't recall and Adam comes out with one of the most outrageous bits on the show yet - KISS. Personally, I expected to see Aerosmith, but I guess they decided on a band that actually NEEDED the money. Except Gene. My media whore hero. That guy does anything to get his name out there - and guess what, Gene? This little bit won't cost you shit! The best publicity, right? And was it me, or was he the most umm.. lifelike of the original members? Four attempts to break a guitar? Way to go, gramps.

Big announcement time, and I'm only half paying attention because I already know who won. Then they announce it. I did a Bugs Bunny triple take. KRIS ALLEN? Fuuuuuck. Just goes to show you, in the ice cream store of life, no matter how flavorful America want to be, when left to its own devices, it'll always end up picking vanilla. But it'll never buy anything vanilla offers. At least Adam can rest easy knowing he doesn't get locked into some shitty overproduced garbage that no one with a musical sense beyond Hannah Montana will buy.

But cheer up - So You Think You Can Dance started tonight - and now I get to see even more deluded losers find out that they really, REALLY can't dance. Maybe we'll get lucky.

Maybe that guy who calls himself SEX (he always comes with his mom - creepy oedipal thing there) will dance like the rhythm-less moron that he is.

And America will be entertained. Release the lions!

Wednesday, May 20, 2009

Old farts and more...

Sometimes it's the little things. Maybe they piss you off, shock you, or just make you laugh. But if you sit down and think about it, I mean really THINK about these little things that happen every day and let them build, the pressure will leave you slumped in your chair, blood running from your nose from a massive aneurysm.

I was in a small town outside of the city today - my job takes me all over - and it creeps me out. I won't name it - this is the net, I don't want the cast from "The Village" chasing me, but it's one of those super religious closed communities. The kind where men are men and their daughters are scared. The place looks like Village of the Damned - everyone looks alike.

I was standing in line to get coffee (one of the few Tim Horton's with a shorter line at the drive thru than inside,) about twenty people deep, when these two old ladies came in and just completely bypassed the line. I couldn't believe my eyes as these wrinkled sock puppets pretended that they were the only ones in the room during LUNCH RUSH. The only thing that kept them from being rolled into balls and being dunked like teabags was the ever present Canadian Manners System, or CMS. Often mistaken for apathy. Being old isn't an excuse for being an asshole. If you wanna see God that bad, keep it up.

But it doesn't stop there. They can't drive, either. Yeah, I know - you've heard it before. The jokes - old drivers have an advantage over Chinese drivers in that they can fit more dents into a Cadillac... (stop groaning... all jokes come from some form of truth. Except really nasty ones.) I got sideswiped by an old driver. A little damage to me - he ran me over the fucking curb and STILL hit me. How could you not know you hit someone? He barely left any damage on me, but there was a deep gouge down the entire side of his car! He kept going - I got his plate. I'm sure he was surprised when the cops showed up. Told you, I'm a dick. My car's paid for. Eat it on the no fault, asswipe.

Now - this I saw last night. As you can tell, I follow Twitter. It's one of those addictions that builds slowly, like reality TV or kinky sex. Once you're in it, you're in it. And since I started, I've seen a lot of "Twitterisms" - names or words where the first letter(s) are replaced by "tw." So you get things like twitterverse, tweeps, tweople - you get it. So I'm sliding through the endless parade of posts by people I don't know when I came across one - let's just say by a "Twafrican-American - in which he calls everyone his "twiggas."

Do WHAT??? Twiggas? You got to be fucking kidding me. How can you fight for everything and step into an arena where EVERYONE (except vegans) are equal, and drop yourself and those around you like that? Is it racism? Is it twacism? Does this make me a twacker? What if I were fat? would I be a twat twacker? Okay, that just sounds like an awful porn job. Below fluffer.

Man, think about what you say. I could see a face to face party of twitterers where a white guy walks up and says, "what up, my twiggas!" He'll get the same look as if it had an "N" on the front. He'll get his ass kicked as if it had an "N" on the front. The real world's fucked up. Don't make twitter that way.

Styrofoam heads, part deux:
It occured to me that I didn't explain where I got the term styrofoam head from. See, when I was a kid, we didn't believe in helmets and pads. We raced bikes into each other - or jumped ramps over shit onto pavement. Ah, the days of Evel Kneivel. Now they are only allowed to run up and down the driveway and have to wear more body armor than an infantryman in downtown Kabul. No one got killed in my neighborhood - at least from riding bikes. And if they did - hell. Natural selection. I don't care. I made it. And I did some stupid shit.

The helmet is filled with styrofoam - hence the name. I just think it's to protect the soft skulls of the overprotected, who'll probably end up a burden to someone at some point. Thirty and living in mommy's basement. Like a womb, but dusty and with a little mildew. Kind of like mommy.

Hey, but at least they're safe.

Tuesday, May 19, 2009

Attack of the Styrofoam Heads!

What is a styrofoam head, you ask? Take a look around. Go to your local grocery store and find the whining, squealing little booger factory rolling around on the floor because mommy won't by it a bag of gummi bears or whatever they shove into their pie-holes these days.

Modern children. Semi-literate (at best) and overconfident. Fuck. I don't know how it came to this. Our future is in the hands of fat little half a tards who couldn't run a block unless it was a sim on their fucking Wii. Am I really that old? Am I really that old school in my thinking? What happened to culling the herd?

I don't mean ALL children. I have a son of my own - former Marine, raised well. You know which kids I'm talking about. The ones who normally wouldn't make it past the swallowing foriegn objects stage. This society so coddles these little fuckers that they think they're immortal. No repercussions.

I got a list. Yes, another one. Better for those short attention spans - ADD (Another Diverted Dipshit.) By that I mean too many people use ADD as an excuse to be so self involved that they don't have to give a fuck.

Observations and points on parenting: (not intended for use by non-professionals. Do not try this at home.)

1. Discipline. Oh shit, where do I start? With the mundane and idiotic attempts at reasoning with a pain in ass four year old, or the "friend" parents who let their punk ass teens get away with murder because they don't want to "infringe" on their personal space? Please. Instead of reasoning - THEY DON'T HAVE THAT CAPABILITY YET -tell them to shut the fuck up! And if they want to know why, because YOU SAID SO!! Worked when I was a kid. And for the "friend" parents? STOP IT!! You're not their fucking friend, they don't think so, they laugh about you behind your back as they steal your money. Take my word for it. Oh, and how could I forget the time out? The ABSOLUTELY most useless form of discipline known to man. Here's a hint, dumb-ass... you don't have to HIT the kid... you only have to convince them that you will. I never laid a hand on my son. But there was the occasional moment he was convinced I would...

2. Television and video games. Okay, let's start with video games. Pong. Pretty much explains my first video game. Now you have games that allow you to steal cars, beat hookers and cut up zombies with chainsaws to an endless speedmetal riff. Oh, sure, there's the Wii - but they even found a way to make that lazy. Shit. Saving grace - Guitar Hero... it allows old rockers to stay young via CG. I'm sure Steven Tyler loves that.

Contrast it to the insipid SHIT we feed these little trolls on TV. Dora. Puke. The Wiggles - what the fuck? Are you fucking serious? Do kids actually like this inane bullshit or is it that they've never actually SEEN a classic 1940's anvil-on-the-head Bugs Bunny cartoon? There is nothing funny or even remotely amusing about this drivel. No wonder our kids go to school wearing big kid's diapers, for Crissakes. (Yes, they make them. Pathetic. Too fucking lazy to potty train, I guess. Don't want a toilet paper cut.) Their brains are total mush. God help them if they ever have to read an analog clock. Or spell analog, for that matter.

3. Games with no losers. Ahem... a game with no losers is another way of saying a game being RUN by losers. Dorks with vegan treats for fluffy turds that can't actually play sports... glad I'm not a future scout for the NFL or NBA.
SCOUT: What the fuck was that? You call that a pass?
DOUGH-HEAD: Well, it worked in Pop Warner - they took away scores, you know. We were all winners.
SCOUT: No, you were all pussies.
The PURPOSE of a game is to create confidence through struggle and achieving victory. Or to sit quietly and wipe away a tear as you watch your opponent hoist his trophy.

Hey. Someone's got to be a loser. Stop making a race of them. Now... off to yell scores out at the nearest T-ball game...

Okay, I have fun here.

An American in Canada. Working in a job where I dealt with people all day. It's funny how easy it is to pass yourself off as a Canadian - drink a little beer, pretend you give a shit about hockey, and be a fan of your nearest CFL football team. Just lose your real accent... until the time is right.

See, I grew up in New Jersey. Accent number one. If you don't know what a New Jersey accent is, watch the Sopranos. Close enough. (There really ARE people like Tony where I came from.) Then I joined the army. Be all you can be and all that shit. They sent me to Ft. Polk, Louisiana. After three years of that and six years of living in North Carolina, I gained accent number two. I can switch them, depending on my mood. Real fun! So now I have a hybrid of the two most uneducated accents in the United States. But I can hide it.

When I came to Canada, the first few people I talked to looked at me like a dog hearing something for the first time. I realized this could be trouble, because not ALL Canadians like us. Big fucking surprise. Is there a country that doesn't hate us to some degree? I mean, besides Puerto Rico.

I started out installing alarm systems (you see my profile pic - would you trust me? lol) and one time I came to the home of an incredibly hot blonde. I knew better than to let myself BE myself, so I faked Canadian. It was July, so she's running around the house in a bikini. Very nice to me, giving me a show even. But the whole time she was railing about how American men were pigs and just ogled her tits and made crude comments. Guess it had nothing to do with her showing everything but her fucking nipples. "Canadian men are true gentlemen... they would never do that." Bullshit. Not to your face, maybe... but you can bet they'd be telling their friends all about it. Canadians are polite that way. Needless to say, when I was done, I waited for her to give me one last eyeful before I said - "Thanks. Y'all have a nice day, now." See? We're not ALL pigs...

More Fun with Canadians...

Okay, this one I did not too long ago. Like I said, I can pick up accents fairly easy. Sometimes I can get them from simply watching TV. So....

My girlfriend is a HUGE fan of Prison Break. The whole house stopped when it came on. Literally. If you were bleeding out, you better hold it till commercial. I personally had never seen the show, but season four was coming up in a few weeks. She had a great idea - get all the seasons, and we could watch them till we (I) got caught up. While I love the show, it had an unintended side effect. I gained an accent. Or should I say, a variable of an accent. I started making jokes using the voice of Theodore Bagwell. Though my girlfirend is half black, she thought it was hilarious. Needless to say, she's a little less politically correct than I am.

By now I hated my job. So I thought - let's T-Bag it for a day, see if the customer catches on. I left the unsavory comments out, but I spent the whole day in character as T-Bag from Prison Break. Fuck. Six hours is a long time to do that. To make matters worse, their mother showed up, wanting an alarm system too. She said she'd call and ask for the nice southern gentleman. Ain't that a bitch?

Sometimes fucking with people blows up in your face...

Addictions... shall I name a few?

Yeah, you heard me. Everybody has something that they're addicted to. Some people would read this and say "Not me!!" while sipping their coffee and stubbing out their cigarette. Okay, so some of this may be an American/Canadian thing - but not in my usual way. (Means I won't be a dick.) Just want to educate a little, for those who think this place is emptiness and igloos. It's not. There are no igloos here.

I'm gonna bullet these. Don't want a run-on.

1. Smoking. I don't give a shit what anyone says, it's an addiction. When you see people huddled in -20 weather outside a restaurant for that last drag, you know they're hooked. It's funny to watch body parts fall off, however.

2. Coffee. Doesn't matter if you go to Canada's Tim Horton's - where there is ALWAYS a fucking block long line at the drive thru, but the lobby is empty (why is that? Are people really that lazy?) or Dunkin' Donuts in the states (well, some states), or Starbucks - which is fucking EVERYWHERE - I think I have one in my basement, even, you'll always see people plunking down a couple of bucks for twelve cents worth of bitter water. Me included.

3.Drugs/alcohol. Hey, we all know that person... always sucks up your stuff at a party. I had a "friend" who had this innate ability to show up AFTER we bought the beer and always expected to get some - okay a lot, he wasn't called Fat Jack for nothing - for free. Asshole. And living in a city, where someone will blow you for a beer... well, enough said.

4. Sex. No, porn doesn't really count here, because it's not sex. It's images of OTHER people having sex. Masturbation is just exercise. (Yeah. Exercise. That's it.) I'm talking about the obsession that takes up your every waking moment, in which you always seek the warmth and refuge in the intimacy lovemaking or wild roughness of straight up fucking -ahem. Excuse me. You know what I mean.

5.Social networking/blogging. Yeah, this includes Facebook. Not MySpace, though... no one goes there. It's funny how many people do this incessantly, to their health's detriment, even. Yet with ALL this addiction - and yes, I think there's more addicts in this area than all the others combined - you almost wish some folks would OD on it. Blogs with ads or stories about their fucking kitties (oh god save me) or how baby farted for the first time without shitting himself are just not worth sharing! Stop it! And spamming messages that have, at best, a niche audience is annoying as fuck! STOP IT!! What bugs me most are people who befriend you and link you to some bullshit website. I didn't ask for this. I just want people to talk to who are fun and know how to take a joke as well as give one. This doesn't include vegans. They're beyond boring. Feed 'em a steak, for fuck's sake... Agenda people, too. Go away or I'll make you go away...kapische?

Ummm... did I go on a rant? Oh well... guess it's time to light a smoke and fix an Irish coffee before I go and get laid.

Then I can think about my next blog.

Stupidity on TV...

Okay. So I'm home for the day on one of Canada's many paid holidays - I don't really know what it's called. I guess I should be more culturally aware, but I'm American. People don't expect me to be. Don't want to let the people down...

So I'm sitting here, writing with the lastest judge show playing in the background. I like the judge shows - mostly because I like to watch people make asses of themselves on national TV. Pretty sure they don't know even Canadians think they're idiots as well. But at least the judges usually hammer the idiots, or let them know just how stupid they are. Like guys who don't think they owe their girlfriends thousands of dollars because they're a hell of a guy and a great lover. Whatever. If you WERE that good, you half a tard, she'd still be with you.It's a loan. Gifts = prostitution. So you're a ho, then. And you're good with that?

Or the MORONS who will make a confession to a felony on air and not even realize it. Are you THAT detached from society that you don't realize that defrauding the government isn't a crime? AND you're actually using it as part of your case? Fuck. Some people are just too stupid to live.

Or the umm... reality? shows like Maury. My favorites are the "who my baby daddy is" episodes. Some people will do anything to get on TV. Even admit that they fucked so many guys in a two week span that they have to DNA ten on one show. AND NONE OF THEM WERE THE FATHER. Holy shit, her parents must be proud. So what does this hosebag do? She gives up another six names. Again, NO DADDY. Umm, if I was one of the guys who dared to fuck this chick, unprotected, I'd spend every day at the clinic and looking in my pants to make sure my dick doesn't fall off.

I won't even mention Jerry. That shit can't be real. No trailer park in the world could hold that much trash.

And the commercials - I'm not talking about the regular ones. I mean the ones during the day that advertise cash title loans and lawyer services. These assholes know that most of their audience is unemployed or drawing a government check. The testimonials are fucking hilarious - "they got me what I deserved." Yeah, dumbass. Then they took two thirds. You get to pay taxes on the whole amount. Hope it helped.

But the funny ones are the late night commercials... you see a pair of hotties trying to get you to flirt with them via text. Text? Are you fucking kidding me? For what you charge, I want to at least see your tits. Doesn't matter. If you do it, you actually get a reply from some fat guy in Chicago who makes money while watching Sports Center. Or the "enhancement" commercials. There's one - some penis pump thing for enhancement. It's plastic. (No, I don't own one. They show it on TV. Looks like a salad shooter.) Ummm.. there's an organic alternative. It's called a BLOWJOB. Try it. It works, too. Or the pills... I even hear it on XM (there, XM - a plug for you) that makes you bigger AND improves performance. The guy always says he likes the performance, but the size thing is cool too. BULLSHIT. You want a bigger dick - just say it. We're all thinking it. Even your wife - who suddenly appears next to you, eyes glazed from her pony ride, knows it. Stop the self denial.

I guess I should mention shows like COPS. I love that show. My favorite episodes involve tasering and releasing the K-9's. Though this last episode some woman got shot twice by the cops when she got stupid with that gun in her hand. Just drop it. Do some of these criminals not realize they're gonna be on TV? They have to sign a release. It's video - it can be used in court, for Crissakes. "Honest officer, I don't know where that bag of crack in my pocket came from. These ain't my pants." (Yes, some dumbass actually told a cop that.)

Oh well, guess it's time to light a cig, grab a coffee and watch Judge Joe. Then it's time for the COPS marathon. Gotta love days off!

The Sexes...and Justice.

I like to study human nature. Okay, I like to watch people so I can make fun of them. It's that little part of New Jersey in me that never went away (though I managed to exorcise the rest. You should have seen me before.) There's a lot of differences in how people approach life - some based on culture, some based on gender. It even affects things like justice systems.

Justice systems, you ask? Well.... now that you mention it, yes. See, in some places like Iraq or China, you kill someone, you encounter "Alive at Five, Dead by Six" justice. Televised execution. Don't know if it's effective, but there's no repeat offenders. In the States, you either get life or death, which can be appealed till the end of your natural life. Except in Texas. Might as well be in China. In Canada, where I currently live, you get a ticket.

Then there's gender. Mostly the difference in thinking and how we think the other thinks. Fuck, that's too much thinking. It's like this. Some of you might learn something. Especially women, because you think WAAAAY too much.

Guys - don't try to figure out how a woman thinks. Take it from an 0-2 on the married thing. Women are sweet but tricky. They love to tell you about their thoughts and problems. DON'T solve them. You try, and you'll be batting with your right hand for awhile. Some, not all, women like to lay verbal traps. WATCH OUT! If you answer the question (it's always a fucking question, half the time just to see if you heard anything beyond white noise) wrong, your dick will end up having more dust on it than an MC Hammer record. Don't tap dance in the mine field.

Oh, and occasionally a woman will relate and insecurity (usually about her body.) She may be no J-Lo, but if you love the way she looks, tell her. Just do it tactfully. Below is the WRONG way.

HER: God hun, I hate my ass. It's getting huge.

HIM: Hey, baby, I LIKE a big ass! More cushion for the pushin'!

RESULT: Spends two months masturbating while she works it off and fucks her trainer.

Now, the RIGHT way.

HER: God hun, I hate my ass. It's getting huge.

HIM: Sorry, didn't hear you, TV was too loud - man, you look sweet. Did I tell you how sexy you are today?

RESULT: Fucks her for two months while the trainer fucks the first guy's woman.

See? It's possible to get through the minefield.

Oh, and unless your woman is totally secure in herself (like my girlfriend - lucky me!) NEVER say how hot some chick on TV or in a movie is. Insecure women are like elephants that way. They never forget.

Now for the women - understanding a guy. Not much work there. We're wired very simply. Like comparing a Ferrari to a moped. DON'T overthink us. We hate that. I'll bullet a man for you as a simple guide.

1. Is he hungry? Answer: Most of the time. Feed him. Meat. None of that pussy vegan crap.

2. Is he angry? Answer: No, he just hates the fucking chick flicks on W that you make him watch so he can get laid later. Either get another TV or let him play his PS3 without making him feel guilty for it. Fuck.

3. Is he attracted to me? Answer: Hell yes! Stupid question, really. You got all the right parts, don't you? Just act like you're attracted back once in awhile. YOU have the control. We all know what runs the world, and it ain't money.

4. Does he want me? Answer: You're kidding, right? He's a guy. Just fuck him, for Crissakes.

5. Does he LOVE me? Answer: Yes, as long as you feed him, fuck him, and leave him alone when he's on his PS3. You'll have his undying loyalty.

6. What's he thinking? Answer: Probably nothing. Unless he's staring at your tits.

7. No, really. What's he thinking? Answer: He's wondering why you think so GODDAMN much! I already said nothing! Don't analyze it.

Well, you see there's a few differences. Did I educate you? Probably not. But then I'm a guy.

No one ever accused me of thinking.