Shirtless: Why men cannot function while fully clothed

It’s mid-day, you’re taking a leisurely stroll down Nowhereville Lane when you pass a yard populated with some dude mowing his lawn… nothing strange there, he’s just shirtless. No matter. You continue down the road, listening to the crows sing about some sort or another of carrion they’ve managed to scavenge when you pass another homestead. Here there is another gentleman, he happens to be checking the timing on his vintage Camero, also shirtless… this seems a little stranger, but no bother. Again you take to ambulation, but now you are painfully aware of men in all varieties of age and fitness and ethnicities, all either working alone or in packs; fixing roofs, changing oil, drinking tea, offering little boys bags of sugar for a mere tuppence and a few strands of pubic hair… is Rod Sterling behind this? Leo and Satan?

This, ladies and gentlemen, is the rarely spoken of conspiracy known only as “Shirtless Male Syndrome.” You will notice men when they are around their significant other; slow, docile, and barely able to function beyond tying shoelaces. Their minds seem to be almost brought down to a base primal level of mere beasts of burden. There is only one known cure for an Alpha who, despite having a below level of intelligence anyway, is slowed to a snails pace when encumbered by either natural or unnatural fibers constricting vascular areas of the back and neck.

Where is the proof you may ask. Simple, it exists in the suburbs and the rural jungles, in schticks and cities, from Stuckies to HyVee. Men everywhere, in order to complete a job of any varying nature, require their shirts to be elsewhere. You may have never noticed this before, but soon, very soon, you sill see this in practice. It is almost as if society itself is attaching a yoke to men around the world in order to drop testosterone and thus turn men into drooling invalids. UberCrappie, Air-O-Poopster, these are the natural enemies of men everywhere. Be afraid, be very afraid.

My point being, they’re everywhere. From toddler to octogenarian, they’re all over the damned place. I laugh every time I see one of these guys, and more power to them for letting their beer bellies flap freely in the breeze… but let’s face it, if you’re going to do it the least you could do is work out a little.

Firearms: How to breed a fear monger

We all heard of the recent events on Connecticut. We all now hear how both sides of the fence are creating a schism. But what is the real issue here? Many people blame violent video games, violent movies, and violent cartoons… but are these the real issues?

As A child, I was raised on Loony Tunes. I watched Elmer Fudd fire his shotgun at Daffy Duck with no consequences. Here were anthropormorphic people being shot, blasted into oblivion, and falling off of cliffs; yet no one was hurt in the long run. What did this teach me as a child? Cartoons are funny. My parents took the effort to show me that in life there are real life consequences.

In my childhood, I was also introduced to games like Corridor 7, Doom, and Rise of the Triad. In these games you shoot your way through monsters, nazis, and a plethora of other nasties and be labeled a hero. What did this teach me as a child? Games are fun. My parents took the effort to teach me that games were not real life.

One of my favorite movies growin up was The Shining. Here you get to watch Jack Nicholson go crazy… classic. What did this teach me as a child? Movies are fun. My parents taught me the difference between reality and fiction.

Way back when, I remember playing Cowboys and Indians. We would go around and fire cap, rubber band, and water pistols at each other. What did this make me think as a child? Playing with friends is a great time to be had. My parents taught be how to be careful with real weapons and how to protect myself.

Did I grow up to be a violent psychopath who went through Malls, Schools, and other public places with a few hundred rounds of ammunition? Those who know me know the answer to that… but the answer for the rest of you is NO. I am a relatively useful member of society, I pay my taxes, I am married, and I am a pacifist my choice. Furthermore, I own a firearm and so does my wife. For V-Day one year I bought my wife a fully functional crossbow. She herself was raised in many of the same ways I was, but without the video games. Is she a violent psychopath? Not as far as I know.

Simply put, a craftsman does not blame the tool for his mistakes as society should not blame the gun for a mentally ill person going on a killing spree. In China, on the same day as the Connecticut shooting, went through a primary school and slashed 22 children. The point being that if someone wants to hurt someone, they will find a medium to do so. Why don’t we try educating our children rather than placing them in front of the TV so we can play on our phones? Why don’t we nurture our children with social interaction?

Is any of this too much to ask? I don’t think so. Maybe we should start focusing in on the real issues by making mental health not such a stigma. Maybe we should start making education a priority. Let’s stop teaching our kids to be victims, let’s make this world better by making our children self sufficient and intelligent.

Happy Belated Turkey Day

I posted this on facebook and figured I would put it here to just for shits and giggles.

March 2011. With the economy in the crapper and nameless talentless puds filling us with their own special brand of poop; Rebecca Black releases the song Friday which turns to an instant viral camp hit.
Some time in 2012. The economy still in the pooper, America seems to trod along aimlessly. Nicole Westbrook releases her viral hit Thanksgiving.
Both of these songs are steaming turds, but there is a strange serendipity that almost seems conspiritorial and underbelly-y. Both songs are from complete unknowns and were just randomly put to youtube for fun. But here is the kicker…
Rebecca “Black Friday” and Nicole Westbrook “Thanksgiving.”
Black Friday and Thanksgiving. Thanksgiving… Black Friday… Thanksgiving… Black Friday…
They predicted the fall of HOSTESS!

Retail: How to make good people feel like crap

I’ve worked in retail a bunch of times, but here is something I have never really understood.

Here is Sally. Sally works at your dime a dozen retail clothing store. Sally makes $10 per hour and usually gets stuck working 40+ hours and weekends. She has bills and a lover, and generally tries to make the best of life. She has cats, and a tiny apartment.
Here is Jack. Jack is your everyday office jockey and has sold his soul to Cthulu. Jack is a salary man who makes 6 figures per year and gets to write off visits to the titty bar as business expenses. He has a wife who is waiting to slit his throat and a mistress who only is in it for the money, he takes viagra because he suffers from homosexual urges that he doesn’t understand and yells at gays because he is jealous. He also owns a Man-O-Pause mobile and a combover.

Jack wants to purchase an item from the store where Sally works, which happens to be in a mall. Jack hates the mall. He hates every dirty poor person there, but most of all, he hates the lowly invalids who refuse to get better jobs who work there. So Jack trudges into Sally’s store. Sally, being the trooper that she is, smiles her best smile and greets Jack with her usual bubbly and non-contemptuous welcome. Jack sneers and mumbles a halfhearted greeting. Sally, being a sales person who wants to keep her job, tells Jack about all of the special offers and new items that may interest Jack. Jack ignores her help and pushes past. Jack, having found what he was looking for, begins to browse. Sally, seeing this, attempts to give Jack some more friendly service and tries to offer various accoutrements to enhance Jack’s purchase. Having spent too much time around these dirty, smelly, sickly poor people; Jack has had enough and proceeds to berate Sally for being so nosy. Jack then drops his potential purchases and leaves the store for Sally to put the items back where they belong and attempt to pick up the pieces of her shattered day. Jack proceeds to call the management of the store when he returns home and complains about his service.

What have we learned from this story? People assume that they can be evil, spiteful, hateful, and all around shitty to anyone they feel deserves their bile. It is not solely rich people who are this way, but Jack is a preferred example. I have seen regular middle class and lower class people behave this way. Did their parents not teach them to be respectful to people? Were they born with a chip the size of Manhattan on their shoulders? Did they think they would not get asked questions by sales associates while visiting a store? Are they just stupid and hateful for the sake of their own perverse needs?

Here is the thing. Just because you are having a bad day does not give you the right to be a douchebag. Every time I have a bad day and I have to go shopping at one retail store or another, I make a choice. Do I A) simply smile and respond with a yes or a no thank you OR B) attempt to alleviate my craptacular day by starting up a conversation with this sales associate and make their day better by their not dealing with douchebags and in turn making me feel better? There is also C) just not go out and do it when I feel more personable. Do these options seem unreasonable? I thought not.

The moral? Don’t be a douche.

Television: The Great Educator

In my few years on this planet, I’ve noticed a few things. There was a show where a guy, who had a very similar name to a famous zombie movie make-up guru, went around to find every day people on the streets to ask them random questions about history and what-not. It was funny watching as college grad adults answered questions in the way you would expect a 3rd grader to. Such as WWII having occurred around the 1960′s or watching as they tried to pronounce the word on the card that said “Albuquerque.” Hilarious.

But now we find the onslaught of reality television has hammered us on a daily basis to celebrate and emulate these lack-witted, falsely entitled, mentally deficient chuds the world over. Yes, sometimes watching people be dumbasses can be entertaining… why do some people strive to be like them? Is it the need to feel important? Do some people simply live to catch the limelight no matter what the cost or time frame? Could it be because people want to make money while serving as little use to the world as physically and mentally possible? Does anyone really care about whether or not two mental invalids hook up over a night of heavy drinking and lack of thought over a little thing called consequences? Apparently some people do… kind of sad when you put it that way.

Those who know me will say things like, “Hey… Weren’t you obsessed with The Colony?” or “Aren’t you currently getting caught up with Mythbusters?” My answer to you is, “That’s not my point, smartass!” Those shows actually teach people things like the magical worlds of science and history. If you can teach me how the world works, how to survive, or how people used to do things and why it worked… I say tell me more, we all need to know more and should celebrate the technological, sociological, and anthropological way of things. We should advance educationally not boozicologically. Yes, beer and alcohol have been at the forefront of many things scientific… but you don’t need a few fingers of Yag to learn how to be a social ruhtard. I would rather learn how to make black powder than how to bone a slut on a Friday night.

Life is about learning and the betterment of the world around us. Maybe we should start working toward the future and not toward getting laid and losing braincells just from watching the shore.

Sagging: Homogeneous Homoerotic Homophobia Homogenized

Have you ever found yourself walking the city streets and noticed some dude with his pants hanging halfway off his ass? Do these people realize just how ridiculous they look? Do they realize that, while trying to look like a badass, they end up looking like a complete and total ruhtard should they ever try to ‘make a run for it?’ AND on top of it all, do they realize that their fashion statement stems from a prison system based on showing how ready one is for a quick inmate intimacy initiation?

I can’t speak for you, but I prefer it when my clothes are in proper order and ready should I need to make a quick getaway. Thus, I wear a belt… I know… how old fashioned. I even have a few pair of suspenders… shocker! No, not the three fingered kind, but thank you for the segway you dirty birdie.

Not unlike the shocker, sagging is a very penetrating subject. The trend, if you would call it that and not a pandemic, began in US prisons. Yes, that’s right, America the beautiful has ruined something else. A little known fact about sagging is that, depending on how low the waistband rides tells a different story. Wearing the waistband near the waist (which is logically where it is supposed to be. Its a WAISTBAND not a MID-HIP BAND, MID-ASS BAND, or any such nonsense)… ahem… near the waist dictates just a normal prisoner not interested in any shenanigans. Wearing the band near mid-ass tells the inmates that you are primed and ready to bend somebody over the lunchroom table and ride for old glory. Thirdly, wearing the waistband anywhere below ones ass tells everyone that one is ready for a good old fashioned fudge packing reception.
Talk about a Penal system.

Here is what gets me. Inside the prison system, inmates are swallowed up by a whole different society and culture. While outside they may have looked upon homosexuality as a prime evil, inside it becomes a social norm. What’s up with that? Perhaps the reason they find it evil is due to their being told for years that homosexuality is evil, and now that they experienced it first hand their fear of being persecuted forced them to speak even louder to avert any attention away from themselves… methinks the ex-con doth protest too much.

Politics: Why Jesus REALLY Hates You

Those of us in the US have been bombarded with politically charged TV, radio, and interweb ads. We hear how Mr. Dippyshit is going to change the face of the nation by advocating for radical changes in the grand scheme of things. We listen and hope that the promises made are not just words, but that the candidate actually has the scruples and honor to stick to his or her guns in order to actually make a change and a difference of the good. But when it comes down to the post election euphoria, they just sit on their hands as the world collapses and entropy runs rampant.

They claim to help us by watching our every move. They claim to help us by limiting our civil rights. They claim to help us by playing the shell game with our money and then just make it rain on every damn country but our own. They claim to help us by filling their own pockets. And we let them.

To make matters worse (I’m sure everyone reading this has some idea of who is in the race so I won’t name names) one of our potential leaders decides, in all his wisdom, to say that because he is a Mormon that he is a good person. Wait… does that mean that all people of that particular faith are good people and that ONLY people of that creed are good people? Of course, the opposition, no matter the side, will never question this. If all people of the christian faith are good people, why was Hitler pardoned by the Pope? Nobody wants to talk about the hard pressed issues and instead wants to play a game of sleight of hand. To make matters worse, he uses some old blue hair to talk about just how wonderful he is. Again, who is going to question this? Nobody, because anyone who questions the actions of a sweet old lady is a terrible person.

So in closing, politicians should be ashamed of themselves. Senators, Congress folk, Presidential hopefuls, and every other damned lawyer out there with a chip on their shoulder. I say Shakespeare was right. Maybe after that we can find a new douche to run who might actually live up to their word and not be in it just to fill their pockets.

Apathy: Not my problem

So here’s the skinny. It’s one of the last few beautiful days we are going to have here in the land of 10,000 sompnerothers, the sub is shining, the birds are singing, bees are trying to have sex with the birds… or so I’ve been lead to believe… when I hear the unmistakable sound of a child either tantruming or in crisis. I see the kid up ahead, she’s throwing herself against a van and wailing incoherently. I’m still a block away but my eyes and ears are getting better trained at finding distress.

I watch as some people walk past, barely casting a glance in her direction. Immune, apparently, to people in need of immediate aid. I continue unimpeded toward my destination, already deciding to find out what might be the malfunction. Quarter block to go and two twenty something girls walk right past barely sparing a glance at the girl. What the fuck? I get maybe 25ft from this kid when a car pulls up right beside her and a woman gets out of the car and heads directly to the child and the words I never thought I would hear someone beat me to asking pop out of her mouth, “What’s the matter, can I help you?”

To say I was floored by this is an understatement. The little girl wails something that my non parent ears seem unable to pick up, but the woman knows exactly what to do. While she walks the little girl to the shop where her idiot mother is, I stand by her still running car to make sure nothing unseemly occurs. I thank her for beating me to the punch, and she thanks me for minding her car and we part ways.

Let me ask you this. Did that sound like something difficult to do? Simply asking a distraught and alone child what was the matter seem like a death defying stunt? Does simply being a humane human hinder your fragile little world? I mean DAMN! I watched half a dozen people just walk past and ignore the problem. Is that what we have been reduced to? <sarcasm> Looks like there is a problem over there, well it’s none of my concern to take a miniscule fraction of my time to waste effort and try to make the world a better place because SOMEONE ELSE WILL TAKE CARE OF IT!</sarcasm>

Ahem… Thank you, young woman in the red tank top. Thank you for reinforcing my hope for humanity. Thank you for not being like the dozens of selfishly entitled little brats that seem to be taking over the world. Thank you… even though I know you’ll never read this… for being human.

The moral? Maybe if we put a little effort toward bettering our surroundings, we might see a little change for the better. Maybe if we see someone who is truly in trouble and take the time to just try to put a little hope in their lives, we might not all be so damned shitty toward eachother.

Employment: Socially acceptable slavery

As per our unspoken agreement, I was not to talk about work. However, I found something that burns my cheese when dealing with employers. Basically, as a happy worker we are all supposed to understand that should we feel the need to explore employment within a differing company, it is common courtesy to give two weeks notice. We do this so as to prevent our former company, which we are believed to respect, from being left holding the bag without anyone to fill our spots. By doing this, the company looses less time and manpower and can continue to operate on acceptable levels as if we never left. I have never left a job without giving 2 weeks notice… it’s just the polite and mature thing to do.

But here is the kicker. Some upper lever ass-hat gets some wild hair and decides their numbers just don’t crunch like they should. This CFO, having worked the books a month ahead of time, decides the only way to cook the books to work in their favor so they can have an extra vacation day in May is to let go of your entire department. Does this information reach you the moment they realize that there is just no other way to work it than to give out pink slips? No. They wait, they stew, they sit on their hands and pretend that every goddamned thing in the world is hunky fucking dory. Do they live by the same standards we do? Do we get the same fair and equitable compensation for our getting laid off? Do we get our own TWO WEEKS NOTICE TO FIND A JOB WHEN WE TOO NEED TO PAY BILLS? Of course not. We are lowly minions of the corporate machine. We have no souls and not needs that deserve viewing or consideration. We are nothing but numbers on a goddamned file. Our lives mean little more than a shipment of pens and stationary or who gets a new sports car. We mean nothing to these CEO CFO douchebags and are treated accordingly. But still, we go on about our lives and pretend that we actually mean something to these corporate shills.

It’s just like being in a bad relationship. There is break up words being spoken, and the inevitable words are spoken by the one doing the breaking up, “I love you so much I could die, I just can’t think about living without you.” The same words come from the corporation, “We will just have to find a way to function without you, I don’t see how we will be able to complete the project without you.” If we are so goddamned important, then why the fuck are we being let go?

My point being, if you expect us to treat you with respect, give us the same treatment. Give us a chance to get back on our feet after you pull the rug out from under us. Don’t kick us while we’re down. Don’t look down your nose at us. Treat us the same way you expect us to treat you and then maybe we will have a lot less disillusioned people out there who can actually figure their shit out.

Texting: How to appear more important than you are when nobody really cares

So you’re walking along, minding your merry little at some mall and it’s crowded. You glance to one side or another as you admire this or that little item when out of nowhere the teenybopper in front of you stops dead in their tracks. Your mind flashes *DANGER DANGER* as the mere feet close within moments and it takes all of your dexterity to narrowly avoid bowling over the pedestrian before you. As you duck and weave and barely keep yourself upright, you notice something. He or she is not even looking in front of them, no look of heart attack, shock, disturbia, fear, anxiety… just cold dead eyes glued to a hand held device and thumbs blazing. A mobile texter.

The true walking dead. A zombie, zed head, Z word, shambler, techno corpse, droids droid, an iDead. Their faces explain it all. Eyes glassy, mouth slightly agape as the endorphins race through their body and make their cold lifeless heart beat a little faster at the prospect of reply… should it be “OMG LOL” or perhaps “:P kill me now because I waste space and oxygen that is truly needed to keep the useful and competent alive?” It takes every ounce of control that I have not to rip their lifeline from their unfeeling fingers and hurl it down a long corridor.

If you are one of these people… shame! Are you so important that you have to force people around you to stop and move around you just because you suck at multitasking? Is it really that difficult to step to the side, away from the flow of traffic, and proceed to reply in whatever mindless dribble you feel is a failed attempt at the English language?

Yes, I text. Firstly, my job makes it a requirement. Secondly, I am a courteous and observant person who doesn’t enjoy running in to people or visa versa. I find that it makes my life easier to actually look around me from time to time, listen to the sounds all around me, and avoid any untoward confrontation. Personally, I find it prevents me from running headlong into some mouthbreather when I pay attention.

The last nail in this coffin is undoubtedly the most idiotic, Philistinial, and all around mindnumbingly ruhtarded concept I have ever encountered. Driving texters. For the love of Pete… WHY? <sarcasm>Well, I’m too important to get into an accident because the whole goddamned universe revolves around me and therefore nothing bad could possibly happen.</sarcasm> If I had my druthers I would take that damned phone of yours and shove it straight up your… anyway I digress. Get over yourselves and start paying attention!