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Because you need your ass whipped.

I have always had an unnatural relationship with the time clock anywhere I have worked.

I took a moment recently to look back over my work history.

Despite having been born in the US, my approach to work has always been that of a starving immigrant.

I missed work the day I was born.

My father came by my hospital crib and told me to quit crying, there are no free rides.

Shortly thereafter, I had my first job, sweeping up at the hospital.

At multiple times in my life, I have found myself with several jobs, like some sort of albino Jamaican.

The family businesses were automobile repair and food service. So I was grubby but well fed.

It was better than our next door neighbor was in textiles so his children worked in the mill.

Their lack of hands due to mill accidents made them poor playmates.

I was never really allowed to play with children that were not gainfully employed.

I grew up in a time where child labor laws were much more relaxed and kids were allowed the privilege of bringing home a decent paycheck.

I have filled out a W4 with a crayon.

I have only been on unemployment 2 times in my life and it was embarrassing, both times. (No joke there, sadly.)

My kids have great work ethics, something that I am wholly proud of.

You may be wondering what has me waxing poetic about the workplace.

Because I saw someone fired today.

Fired for not showing up for work.

Usually that sort of thing is nipped in the bud fairly quickly.

However, when the person is hired to answer the phones at 4am when no one else is there, it takes awhile.

The thing I keep coming back to is the not showing up for work.

Its like deciding not to breathe anymore.

They are lucky they were not raised by my father.

I don’t care what age you are, man or woman, you get fired for not showing up for work in my family, you are getting your ass beat.

And you would have it coming.

Its getting to the point that if you have a strong work ethic, its so rare that its like you know magic.

In a certain sense, I guess my issue with them being fired is that I am incapable of understanding it.

At its core, the decision was made not to bring in an income.

Which hurts the family.

This is where the entire problem is.

It is tattooed into my DNA that above all, you don’t hurt the family.

I hope they learned their lesson in being fired.

Or any lesson, really.

Nobody seems to learn any lessons these days.

When I was a kid, there were a lot of lessons I learned.

All of them had the same moral to the story.

Don’t hurt the family.

Because family is everything.

Thus endith the lesson.

 

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Posted by on March 4, 2016 in Uncategorized

 

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Thanksgiving – No holds barred.

Thanksgiving was yesterday, so lets figure out what we are thankful for.

But first, a small rant presented as bullet point.

  • A grand jury could not find enough evidence to even go to trial.
  • The disinfrachized used the opportunity to loot and cause mayhem.
  • The professional protestors furthered their private agendas and caused mayhem.
  • The handful of actually outraged protesters found their public statements swallowed by the lawlessness of others.
  • In the end, nothing was served, certainly not justice, one side or the other.

Now, lets get to the thankful.

  • A little new life joined my clan. Yay for us.
  • The broken nose from Judo appears to be back to normal. I had a little cartilage bump in my left nostril that is still there.
  • Went back to Judo. After a week off for the nose, a week travelling, and then getting a cold/bronchitis, I finally got back to class. 3 weeks off at my age is not doing me any favors. Began to feel like the shadow of my ass weighed 20 lbs.
  • The wonder kids of mine are doing well. Their genetics are superior, so this does not shock me.
  • The Chromebook I bought for writing may become my home computer. Still incredibly fast and hooks into the 21” monitor without an issue.
  • My penis is doing well.(Not sure why I included this, but it is nice to see an old friend aging well.)

Thanksgiving with my extended family, at least the ones that still show up, as opposed to the smart ones that have figured out somewhere else to go, is always trying at best.

Think about my sarcastic, cynical mind, and then think about the kind of people and environment that would have to be in place to create that kind of cerebral vile and you begin to see why I dread these holidays.

Its a lot like boxing.

Keep your hands up and protect yourself at all times.

And if you step into the ring, you are going to get hit.

Here are three of the best comments overheard at Thanksgiving in recent years:

  • Thats your fourth glass of wine, good to see you are cutting back.
  • I think its great that you have decided not to drive yourself crazy with all of that dieting nonsense, and just be happy. Good for you. (Same conversation as the wine comment.)
  • The last one is not a comment, but a conversation that I caught the tail end of. I had brought a friend to Thanksgiving and went to get us some pumpkin pie. I got back to the table and just caught the end of my Alzheimer’s ridden great uncle, describing in graphic detail, what appeared to be anal sex, complete with hand gestures. She took it well.

In the end, Thanksgiving with the family is a lot like being mauled by a bear.

Survival is all you are shooting for.

 

 
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Posted by on November 28, 2014 in Uncategorized

 

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The annual food coma.

Do you mind, asshole?

There is something wrong with people.

Some sort of cognitive breakdown that occurs when some people get in public.

Specifically, it has to do with cell phones and videos.

Get a headset, bluetooth or old school plug in, take your pick.

The Starbucks is not a familiar one.

Its one of those “Sort of” Starbucks thats inside a Barnes and Noble book store.

They have the logo, but they are B & N people.

Its like a crack dealer that sells more ice cream out of the back of the ice cream truck than weed.

You know their heart is not in it.

To deal the beans, you have to understand the beans.

If you ever want to talk coffee beans, go to the Coffee Bean and ask the cashier about their Costa Rican brew.

The education is worthwhile, I can assure you.

Starbuck’s people know there stuff as well.

But my B&N brew tasted a little off, I asked the cashier what kind of roast it was?

She looked confused and then, looked at me with a straight face:

“It’s coffee.”

Wow.

I take my addiction seriously and I expect my dealer to as well.

But enough of that.

It’s Thanksgiving.

Time to visit The Family.

Holidays with my family is a lot like swimming in a tank with trained sharks.

When it goes well, everything is fine.

But never forget that the whole crowd can turn on you in an instant.

But, and this is the really important part, these are my people.

That unruly mob I mentioned that might chew up the unsuspecting and spit them out?

I am one of them.

I am the peasant with the pitchfork and the torch, screaming “Burn her, she’s a witch!”

In a manner of speaking.

 

Morning after Thanksgiving.

I noticed something pretty significant last night.

I used to be a severe turk-aholic.

Turkey, God’s gift to the pilgrims.

I used to live and breath turkey, but only on Thanksgiving.

Now? Not so much.

Now its the wine and desert.

Last night was a delightful Riesling paired with a dish without a name.

“Chocolate Crack” comes close, but not quite.

Let me describe the taste bud-gasm in detail.

A layer of chocolate.

A layer of marshmallow infused with cinnamon whiskey.

A later of caramel.

Another layer of chocolate.

A crumble across the top made of bacon, black pepper and Cayenne powder.

To call it rich is like saying a homeless guy could use some deodorant.

It is not something you wolf down.

It is something you take a small bite of, chewing slowly, discerning all of the different flavors and textures prior to taking a sip of wine to accompany it down your throat.

Just the memory of it has me both aroused and hungry.

And yet, if they sold it in the bakery case at Starbuck’s, I would never by it.

Because it all has to do with time and location.

Like a sandwich made by your mom when you were little, you’ve eaten better since, but they still stand out.

Happy Thanksgiving, hope you all enjoyed your people, I know I did.

 
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Posted by on November 29, 2013 in Uncategorized

 

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