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Monthly Archives: June 2014

Because Homicide is illegal.

Homicide is illegal.

I know this because the guy in the leather biker vest with the tattoos said so.

I remember it quite clearly. He had the guy in the suit backed up against the wall, not putting a hand on him, but asking the guy in the suit if he would like him to beat the shit out of him, because homicide is illegal.

And, while I am always on the side of law and order, I am in full agreement with the biker at this point.

I really do hope he beats the shit out of him.

Lets back it up for a moment.

See, I am not a cat person.

Everyone is free to get the pet they want and more power to them.

Cats however, are evil.

I think that is what happens when someone gets more than 2 cats.

They wait till you are asleep and then whisper things in your ear, vile things, atrocities that the mind can barely understand.

Maybe. I am not saying they do this FOR SURE.

I’m just saying maybe.

But this is not about cats.

Its about dogs.

I am a dog person. Dogs love you, care for you, worry about you and carry their own weight.

A dog once took a bite from a rattlesnake to save my brothers on a camping trip. My father drove across the desert in the middle of the night to save him. Awesome dog.

That, I think, is the one redeeming quality of modern society. That is what will pull us back from the abyss.

Apparently, the biker and I see eye to eye on this matter.

Enter the guy in the suit.

With his dog.

Its a cute little kickem dog, Pomeranian I think.

It doesn’t suit the guy in the suit, so I am going to assume it belongs to the wife/girlfriend, and he has brought the dog along while he gets his morning coffee at Starbucks.

But, its a shitty walk.

The guy in the suit seems to think that dogs can pee and shit while never breaking stride and inconveniencing him.

I followed him up the block from my parking space.

It was a block filled with cursing at the dog, yanking, hard, on the leash, and, at one point, dragging the dog.

He really is an asshole.

Even being 20 yards behind, I voiced an angry “HEY!” that only got me a dirty look as he turned the corner.

It was then I noticed the biker get off of his bike at the curb, right where the corner was, throw down his coffee and stomp around the corner after the suit and his dog.

Good, now we are all caught up.

I have not had my coffee yet, but this is worth waiting for.

Karma, it seems, has a whole new act and I must say, its about goddam time.

I realize there is a childish, school yard element to this, but what the hell?

Lets look at the biker as a surrogate for the dog.

He’s a little dog, and the suit is much larger than him.

Correspondingly, the biker is much larger than the suit.

In prison, that would make the suit his bitch.

That last line, although making me laugh, may have gone a bit to far.

Prison rape being a little much to witness before morning coffee, I am still rooting for the ass-whooping.

Alas, it was not to be.

The suit practically shit himself while spouting an extensive series of apologies and promises of proper dog care.

The biker let him go unharmed.

The suit left without heading in to get his coffee.

Hopefully, he remembers his promise to treat the dog better.

Maybe not.

But that ass-whooping would have been sweet to watch.

 
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Posted by on June 27, 2014 in Uncategorized

 

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What is the carbon footprint of a moron?

There is a certain amount of ignorance and hope in someone that someone that becomes a crusader with a cause.

Take the two well-monied house frau’s sitting at the next table are a perfect example.

Lets take an inventory, shall we?

I was in the parking lot when they drove up in separate cars.

One Mercedes, S Class.

One Range Rover Sport.

Once I got inside, I really didn’t need the visual of their vehicles to know what they drove.

They both have the annoying habit of carrying their car keys with the brand logo hanging out for all to see. Its annoying, but it is one that a majority of people with expensive cars that come with key chains with logos do. Its a minor thing.

The shoes are expensive. I used to be involved with a shoe-whore, I recognize the quality.

The clothing is expensive and made to look much more casual. Its expensive to look that casual.

The bag may be Louis Vuitton, I can’t be sure, I never dated a bag-whore.

Their coffee orders were difficult and long. This was not unexpected.

Their conversation was pretty much what I expected, shallow and narcissistic.

I don’t like them instinctively.

Its not the money or a race thing, its the attitude.

My coffee is hot and the company is delicious.

Its not often the coffee shop god’s smile upon you, but when it happens, its sweet.

This is a neat way of saying the table next to them is open.

When you put on headphones, but leave the music off, people assume you can’t hear what they are saying.

“I am sick of this bullshit.” (Angst, always brings out the best in silly conversation, don’t you think?)

“I know, right?” ( I am sorry, but this reply lowered her an extra notch.)

“Their denial is ridiculous, its hurting all of us.”

“The facts are the facts, the school’s carbon footprint is massive and they refuse to do anything about it!”

The statement is most likely valid, and I don’t know anything about the school in question. (But I used to inspect schools, so I do have a perspective.)

But the hypocrisy is stunning.

I swear, I almost said something and risked breaking the cardinal rule of this blog.

Don’t get involved. (Not to be confused with the Hippocratic oath “Do no harm. Mine is more “Do some harm if its funny.”)

Mainly because anything I said would not influence or change their opinion one way or the other.

If I agree with them, I am ok.

If I disagree, I am obviously some sort of ignorant denier.

And where is the fun in that?

What these ignorant biotches are missing is the fact that if you want to bitch at other people make sure your own shit doesn’t stink.

Their own carbon footprint is pretty scary.

The iPhone 5’s that are sitting on the table in their obscenely high priced cases have the highest lifetime carbon footprint of any iPhone ever made. (30 seconds of Google research doesn’t lie.)

Their vehicles are shining beacons of carbon footprinted light in the darkness.

Listening to them reminds me whats wrong with the world in general.

Stupidity. Its actually kind of depressing to think about the fact that these two are breeders.

I know this because they had a brief discussion about their kids.

Range Rover refused to let her son play lacrosse a year ago because, and I quote, “They insist on tracking the score instead of just letting the kids play.”

Sounds like a recipe for raising a pussy. God help this little squish-head when he gets out into the real world and finds out that your employer doesn’t give a shit if you lose but felt good doing it. He will be fired a baker’s dozen times before that little concept hits home.

And S-Class is not much better.

Her comment? “There are so many bad influences out there.”

Are you including the bad influence who’s vagina he tumbled out of?

That is one that will never be blamed.

Its always someone else’s fault.

Probably mine.

And I am ok with that.

At least the coffee is hot.

 
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Posted by on June 20, 2014 in Uncategorized

 

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We’re all gonna die. Just saying.

I try not to work on Friday the 13th, as a general rule.

This is not new, we’ve discussed this before.

Its not because I’m superstitious or anything.

I just have a healthy respect for tradition and also, I am convinced that bad luck and an old gypsy woman’s curse will kill me horribly on that day.

Call me a pussy, I don’t care.

If you ask me, there is not enough respect for fear-driven urban legend.

And I am not talking about the “Don’t flash your lights at another car that have their’s off at night, its a gang initiation, they’ll turn around and kill you.” Kind of modern day crap.

I am talking about the ones that are several hundred years old, well, like Friday the 13th.

No wonder they made it into a scary movie.

Scary movies exist to scare us, that much is true.

On the surface.

But underneath, there is a whole other psychological game being played.

Scary movies exist to rub our noses in the primal fear of death.

That is what they are really about.

Primal fear is a gift you acquire at birth and it follows you thru life, like a combination lost puppy/grim reaper that you cannot shake.

Not to be confused with Catholic guilt, which is another type of guilt entirely, self inflicted and even harder to shake.

Primal fear and Catholic guilt are both irrational fears.

Catholic is only slightly easier to navigate.

Primal fear encompasses everything in the world that could kill you.

Catholic guilt encompasses everything in life that you might do wrong.

Subtle difference, but a discernible one.

Sometimes, they crossover and are the same fear.

Except, especially at those times, fixing one doesn’t necessarily fix the other.

That concept of fixing a problem and it still not being fixed is a tough one to get the first time it occurs to you.

Mainly because it is an unsatisfying answer, and unsatisfying answers are never easy to swallow.

They are the “Cod Liver Oil” of answers. They may do the job, but they make you feel sick while doing it.

Its a little like being in a relationship and having an argument.

You may win the argument, and you are still screwed.

Like winning the battle but losing the war.

Except this is worse, you are sleeping with the enemy as it were.

Myself, much like all vermin, I thrive on conflict and confrontation, preferably as a witness.

I would use “Fly on the wall” but I find them repulsive. (The whole eating thru vomiting thing is tough to get around. Imagine two girls one cup National Geographic style.)

What does any of this have to do with Friday the 13th?

Today is the day when I avoid human contact.

If I avoid dealing with people and/or machines, they cannot blow up and try to kill me.

That sounds paranoid, right up until you look at insurance company statistics.

More insurance claims are made for accidental death and dismemberment list today as the day of infamy.

I don’t need that kind of pressure.

I am perfectly capable of maiming myself without nature lending an evil hand.

 
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Posted by on June 13, 2014 in Uncategorized

 

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Do not piss off life.

I seem to have taken permanent residence up shit creek.

The smell sucks, but the scenery is pretty.

Every now and then, things speed up and screw with you.

People like to say that life is funny.

Which only makes sense if you giggle while watching dog fights.

What they don’t say, the ugly whispered part, is that life can be downright brutal at times.

Take last weekend.

Without going into personal details, a split second accident almost cost me someone very dear to me.

Nobodys fault, the activity being performed was simply one that held a certain level of danger.

I think the paraphrased version of the life/brutal statement is Shit happens.

We, as humans, think we have a lock on safety and control that would almost be comical if it were not for the horror of tragedies that seem to go on.

We can pass all the laws, and make all the restrictions we want, but Shit happens.

A vehicle crashes, a tornado touches down, someone dealing with a mental illness listens to one too many Justin Beiber songs, and then the shit storm is on like Donkey Kong.

As a general rule, I hate hospitals.

I realize they help a lot of people, even saving people important to me recently.

But there is an element of “The bullshit buck stops here.” that you cannot deny.

People die there.

Thats one of those things that you kind of know, without knowing.

People talk quietly and whisper without being told to at hospitals.

It also has a lot to do with the fact that people die there on a regular basis.

That is why someone talking normally is either working there or stared at.

And when someone does yell or scream, its because all hell has broken loose in their life, pain wise or emotionally.

Personally, my ass cheeks clench the moment I walk thru the door and stay that way until about an hour after I fall asleep that night.

Something about serious rem-sleep that loosens your butt-muscles, that would also explain why most prison rapes happen in the middle of the night.

Karma also, seems to be stepping in here.

Every now and then, Karma wipes the sleep out of its eyes and stomps around the planet like an 800 pound gorilla.

But, in this instance, Karma got the address wrong.

Trust me on this one, if anyone have a Karma reckoning coming, its me.

In the grand scheme of things, I took Karma’s sister to prom, did all sorts of barnyard shit to it and never called.

So to go after someone at the other end of that “Got it coming” sliding scale makes no sense.

I went down that road of “Maybe it was meant for me” for a second, the math didn’t add up.

Assassins as a general rule are marksmen. (See also Lee Harvey Oswald)

In fact, if you remove time from the equation, Oswald could have been gunning for me.

That seems a little far-fetched, but I am not against using the absurd to make my point.

If only I could remember what it was.

Anyway, the point I am trying to make is “Bring the troops home.” (Never saw that coming, did you?)

 

 
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Posted by on June 6, 2014 in Uncategorized

 

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