The other day a friend of mine on the Facebook shared an article that was about the Facebook. I know, we're getting dangerously close to meta here but bear with me. The article was from the Huffington Post and was credited to Waitbutwhy.com. I'm sure if I went to that website I could find out the author's name somehow but despite the high level of hatred I have for the imbecile that wrote this article that's just too much damn effort for me to put forth. Oh, here be a link to the article so you can read it for yourself before I eviscerate it.
OK, I'm going to assume that you read it, or at the very least glanced at it before becoming half as enraged as I was upon reading it.
I can't even begin to imagine what an insufferable human being the author of that steaming pile must be. Apparently the sole reason people are on Facebook is to entertain this waste of space. I thought the whole idea behind Facebook was for people to, you know, share things about their lives with the people they know in any goddamn way they please. If I want to use all of my status updates to put up pictures of food that's my prerogative. Same thing if I want to post petitions to impeach Obama, songs by Nickelback or passive aggressive snipes at people I work with.
I fully understand if all of those things annoy you a little bit if you were to see them on my wall. Of course, all you have to do is not read it. Or unfriend me. Or block me. Really, the options are endless if you are looking to ignore a person on Facebook. Which is where we get to the core of what really got my goat in this article. Why does anyone, especially this fool, get to tell me what I should or shouldn't do with my Facebook?
There aren't rules for things like this. People get to use it for whatever methods they want to. With me in particular I use it to pimp things that I have written, like I will definitely do when I post this blog, and also have you seen the awesome article I did about Gwar? It's dope. Sorry, I love self promotion. I also like to put songs that I've been rocking out to, pictures of outlandish things that are entering my body (food and or drinks, pervert), dick jokes, and little life updates that I think you may be interested in.
In the article the author dismisses almost all of these things as acts of great narcissism by the poster. They posit that if I'm actually happy about getting a new job I should only text/call/talk to the few people in my life who would care. Well, I'm sorry Mr. Uppity Writer, I've already done that with the people closest to me but I still think it's notable enough to share with my Facebook friends. It's not bragging and it's certainly not done purely to build up my own self esteem. I'm telling my friends, and yes I consider all of my Facebook friends to be actual "friends" even if I'm not particularly close to some of them, something that happened in my life. What's so wrong with that?
In the eyes of this author the only reason to put up pictures of a vacation a person went on is to make others jealous. Really? I thought it was to share pictures of a cool experience you had with people you know/care about. I'm a devious jerk from time to time but this writer assumes that every single thing a person does on the Internet is aimed at making other people feel badly.
This brings us back to my key point, who in the world makes up rules for what a person can post on Facebook? It's idiotic. Remember when Darren Rovell, possibly Northwestern's most insufferable graduate which is quite a claim to fame, decided to make rules about what people can and can't do on Twitter? The result? A ton of people hating him for being an elitist prick about something as silly as Twitter.
I am Facebook friends with people for one reason and one reason alone; because I like them. Well, and you can throw a couple of ex-girlfriends and people I'd like to make future ex-girlfriends in there that I like to creep on. . . . I'm kidding. Seriously, I like every one of my Facebook friends. I actually care about what people post most of the time and I would never think that they talking about their happy relationship merely to make me feel like shit about sitting alone shirtless eating a family size thing of hot and sour soup. I would assume they were doing so because they are happy and want to share that with their friends.
I've now written way too much about Facebook. Ugh. I guess the point that I want to leave with is this; I'm going to write whatever I damn well please on my Facebook. And I expect everyone else to do the same damn thing.
Sunday, October 20, 2013
Saturday, August 24, 2013
Bummed Out by Bums
At one point in my life I was extremely generous to the homeless. Not naive, mind you, I didn't get suckered in by every sob story I heard or anything like that, but if I had some extra change I usually forked it over. The longer I lived in Chicago the more and more grizzled I got. A lot of this was out of necessity; if I gave a dollar to every homeless person I encountered I would have been joining them in begging for food money after a week or two.
Roughly 15 years of city living later and I find myself completely oblivious to homeless people. Other than the annoying ones outside of Trinity Church who are apparently still occupying Wall St I really don't notice when people are begging for money, and if I do notice I just quickly shake my head and keep going. The only reason I notice the occupy jerks is that they are always sprawled out on the sidewalk while I'm on my way to work and more often than not I have to step over one of them, if they weren't a tripping danger I probably would ignore them as well.
About a month ago I was walking home from work. As usual I was in my own world and sort of singing along to "Skate or Die" by Teenage Bottlerocket when a young lady asking for change stopped me in my tracks. She was sitting up against a wall with a sign that said something about needing to get back to Georgia. Next to her was an adorable but obviously underfed dog, you could see every single one of its ribs. The girl was looking up at me with the largest eyes I have ever seen, they would have been considered big for anime eyes, and my heart just broke.
I gave her the two dollars in my pocket, smiled, and kept walking. I couldn't get the image of her and the sad little pup out of my head, it was as if it was burned into my retinas. So, without really knowing what I was doing, I walked into the closest Duane Reade and started shopping. Twenty something dollars later I walked out with some dog food, some people food, a few assorted travel size toiletries and gummy worms. I went back and found the girl and gave her the bag and quickly took off before she could say anything.
This is the part of the exchange that I have been playing over and over in my head and getting really angry about. Why didn't I strike up a conversation with the girl? Or at the very least let her say thank you instead of shuffling off as fast as my little feet could carry me? Because I was ashamed is the answer.
I was ashamed, and more than a little angry, with myself for caring about this homeless girl and her puppy. Why you ask? Because she was cute. I knew in my mind, regardless of what I might try and convince myself of, that the only reason that I had gone out of my way to help this girl was because she was cute. If I wasn't attracted to her I would have just kept on going and not thought a damn thing about it, like I do with the other 5 to 10 homeless people I see every day. Yet I went way out of my way to take care of this girl, and her pup, entirely because I was attracted to her.
What the hell does that say about me? For my whole life I have tried to convince myself that appearance means very little in the grand scheme of things. I like to think that I am above base thoughts like that, that I am enlightened. But that's bullshit. I valued her life over every other homeless person I see walking to and from work for no reason other than when she looked at me with her enormous, sad, green eyes I was attracted to her.
If I was sitting down with someone having a conversation about homelessness I would talk about how I hope all of the homeless people could be taken in, that every person deserves to have a roof over their head and a meal in their bellies. Yet when I needed to put my generous thoughts into action I chose only to do so for a girl that I wouldn't have minded taking to dinner and a movie under different circumstances.
I can't understate how mad I was at myself about this, how it still eats at me. This is a way more personal entry than I would normally post on here, I recognize that. Yet if I have a blog dedicated to being angry and I'm angry at myself for being a hypocrite when it comes to helping homeless people I don't want to be a super hypocrite for not writing about how completely enraged with myself the situation made me.
The experience made me question whether I'm just as full of shit about every other thing I stand for. It made me think that I have no convictions, that I'm just a bunch of talk. When it comes right down to it I'm just a selfish prick like everyone else who will only act generously if I think there could be something for my benefit in the end. I know in my heart that none of this is true, but I still have been thinking it periodically since my encounter with the cute homeless girl. Against all odds my level of self loathing managed to kick it up a notch.
I'm a logical person, I know the real reason that I don't help every homeless person I meet is because I can't. I make chump change and live in a damn expensive area of the world. I'm getting by comfortably but if I spent an extra five bucks every day on my way to work to help people out the electricity would be getting shut off in a month. I can't beat myself up over this.
So, I've moved on. Obviously, I'm still thinking about that girl a little bit. I gave half a sandwich to the ugliest bum on my way home the other day. It might not even things out, at least not yet, but I felt just as good helping out that hideous looking man as I did when I helped the girl. Maybe I'm not the heartless monster I feared.
Roughly 15 years of city living later and I find myself completely oblivious to homeless people. Other than the annoying ones outside of Trinity Church who are apparently still occupying Wall St I really don't notice when people are begging for money, and if I do notice I just quickly shake my head and keep going. The only reason I notice the occupy jerks is that they are always sprawled out on the sidewalk while I'm on my way to work and more often than not I have to step over one of them, if they weren't a tripping danger I probably would ignore them as well.
About a month ago I was walking home from work. As usual I was in my own world and sort of singing along to "Skate or Die" by Teenage Bottlerocket when a young lady asking for change stopped me in my tracks. She was sitting up against a wall with a sign that said something about needing to get back to Georgia. Next to her was an adorable but obviously underfed dog, you could see every single one of its ribs. The girl was looking up at me with the largest eyes I have ever seen, they would have been considered big for anime eyes, and my heart just broke.
I gave her the two dollars in my pocket, smiled, and kept walking. I couldn't get the image of her and the sad little pup out of my head, it was as if it was burned into my retinas. So, without really knowing what I was doing, I walked into the closest Duane Reade and started shopping. Twenty something dollars later I walked out with some dog food, some people food, a few assorted travel size toiletries and gummy worms. I went back and found the girl and gave her the bag and quickly took off before she could say anything.
This is the part of the exchange that I have been playing over and over in my head and getting really angry about. Why didn't I strike up a conversation with the girl? Or at the very least let her say thank you instead of shuffling off as fast as my little feet could carry me? Because I was ashamed is the answer.
I was ashamed, and more than a little angry, with myself for caring about this homeless girl and her puppy. Why you ask? Because she was cute. I knew in my mind, regardless of what I might try and convince myself of, that the only reason that I had gone out of my way to help this girl was because she was cute. If I wasn't attracted to her I would have just kept on going and not thought a damn thing about it, like I do with the other 5 to 10 homeless people I see every day. Yet I went way out of my way to take care of this girl, and her pup, entirely because I was attracted to her.
What the hell does that say about me? For my whole life I have tried to convince myself that appearance means very little in the grand scheme of things. I like to think that I am above base thoughts like that, that I am enlightened. But that's bullshit. I valued her life over every other homeless person I see walking to and from work for no reason other than when she looked at me with her enormous, sad, green eyes I was attracted to her.
If I was sitting down with someone having a conversation about homelessness I would talk about how I hope all of the homeless people could be taken in, that every person deserves to have a roof over their head and a meal in their bellies. Yet when I needed to put my generous thoughts into action I chose only to do so for a girl that I wouldn't have minded taking to dinner and a movie under different circumstances.
I can't understate how mad I was at myself about this, how it still eats at me. This is a way more personal entry than I would normally post on here, I recognize that. Yet if I have a blog dedicated to being angry and I'm angry at myself for being a hypocrite when it comes to helping homeless people I don't want to be a super hypocrite for not writing about how completely enraged with myself the situation made me.
The experience made me question whether I'm just as full of shit about every other thing I stand for. It made me think that I have no convictions, that I'm just a bunch of talk. When it comes right down to it I'm just a selfish prick like everyone else who will only act generously if I think there could be something for my benefit in the end. I know in my heart that none of this is true, but I still have been thinking it periodically since my encounter with the cute homeless girl. Against all odds my level of self loathing managed to kick it up a notch.
I'm a logical person, I know the real reason that I don't help every homeless person I meet is because I can't. I make chump change and live in a damn expensive area of the world. I'm getting by comfortably but if I spent an extra five bucks every day on my way to work to help people out the electricity would be getting shut off in a month. I can't beat myself up over this.
So, I've moved on. Obviously, I'm still thinking about that girl a little bit. I gave half a sandwich to the ugliest bum on my way home the other day. It might not even things out, at least not yet, but I felt just as good helping out that hideous looking man as I did when I helped the girl. Maybe I'm not the heartless monster I feared.
Sunday, August 18, 2013
Coffee Guy
I'm not exactly a people person. By that I don't mean that I'm a jerk or that I shun personal contact. What I really mean is that I rarely go out of my way to build any sort of rapport with random people that I encounter in my life unless I need to. If you're a coworker or a friend of a friend, sure, we'll talk a bit. If you're my upstairs neighbor who I already disdain for your bad taste in music, well, let's just say I'm going to do my best to keep my distance.
This also goes for people that I often buy things from. I don't particularly want the guy at Taco Bell to know what I like to order let alone my name or any details about my life. Basically I like to keep the people who sell me stuff as nothing more than a vending machine that says thank you and hopefully doesn't make pithy comments about the weather.
Despite all of this I let my coffee guy into my soul.
I didn't want it to happen because I knew the pain that I would endure when everything ended. Yet Coffee Guy broke me down. It might be the way he would greet me with "Good morning, boss!" on Tuesday through Friday. Nah, as much as I love being called "Boss" it was his Monday greeting that always got me.
"I made the coffee extra strong for you, boss. Mondays are a son of a bitch."
Yeah, Coffee Guy was the best. I say was because he has abandoned me. He disappeared without a trace. He has been replaced by a surly guy with a paper hat. My world has shattered.
The way I commute can probably best be described as sleepwalking. Sure, I'm completely dressed and "awake" from the minute I leave my house but in all honesty I'm not there. Not mentally. Hell, half the time I keep my eyes closed while going down the tunnel at the PATH because I know it by heart, I don't need the eyes, may as well trick my body into thinking we're back in bed.
The first time I feel really awake is when I get to my coffee stand. I chose this one because it was about two blocks from my building giving me just enough time to take a few enormous pulls on my large iced coffee which I pay two dollars for. Not $2.25 like the price says, $2 because Coffee Guy knows I never had change and he doesn't feel like making me take 3 quarters from him. Once again, Coffee Guy was the best.
Now I don't know what to do. I had to tell the new guy what I wanted, after a week Coffee Guy knew my order. New guy just threw the straw down on the counter with my drink and handed me a napkin; Coffee Guy put the straw in the coffee (leaving the top on so he doesn't touch the business end) and wrapped the napkin around the cup so that my hand doesn't get wet from condensation. New guy charges me full price, doesn't smile, didn't say thank you, and sure as shit would never call me boss.
I feel a need to go to every coffee stand in the city until I find Coffee Guy so I can beg him to come back to his old stand and make my mornings tolerable once again.
You know that scene in As Good as it Gets when Nicholson buys the fancy doctor to take care of the asthmatic kid so that Helen Hunt will go back to work? I always thought that scene was bullshit. I knew the idea was that Nicholson was doing it out of selfish reasons because he was OCD but I saw through that and knew he was going to be making a move on her eventually. No one would spend that much money, even if they were loaded, just to get their regular waitress to come back to work.
Now I get it. If Coffee Guy has been at home taking care of an asthmatic child I will cure that lil' bastard if it means that Coffee Guy returns to his stand. If Coffee Guy is in the clink I will gladly pay his bail, if he's had a falling out with the mob after betting too much at the turtle races I will pay his debt or let the mobsters break my knees instead. I will slay a fucking dragon with a nail file if the end result is Coffee Guy giving me my quarter discount on my delicious iced coffee tomorrow morning.
I know what you're thinking, you're thinking that I'm out of my mind and I should just get over it. Maybe strike up some sort of rapport with the new guy or just go to a different cart. I can't do that. I can't cheat on Coffee Guy. When it comes to coffee purveyors I'm a penguin; I mate for life, friend.
Also, if I were to strike up any sort of rapport with an asshole who wears a paper hat in public I'd kick my own ass. I have a little dignity.
Hopefully he just took the week off. If he's not there tomorrow I don't know what I'm going to do. Maybe find his new stand and start to convince my company to relocate. I'm telling you, it's worth it. The coffee is so good. . . or at least I wouldn't have to talk to a guy in a paper hat.
This also goes for people that I often buy things from. I don't particularly want the guy at Taco Bell to know what I like to order let alone my name or any details about my life. Basically I like to keep the people who sell me stuff as nothing more than a vending machine that says thank you and hopefully doesn't make pithy comments about the weather.
Despite all of this I let my coffee guy into my soul.
I didn't want it to happen because I knew the pain that I would endure when everything ended. Yet Coffee Guy broke me down. It might be the way he would greet me with "Good morning, boss!" on Tuesday through Friday. Nah, as much as I love being called "Boss" it was his Monday greeting that always got me.
"I made the coffee extra strong for you, boss. Mondays are a son of a bitch."
Yeah, Coffee Guy was the best. I say was because he has abandoned me. He disappeared without a trace. He has been replaced by a surly guy with a paper hat. My world has shattered.
The way I commute can probably best be described as sleepwalking. Sure, I'm completely dressed and "awake" from the minute I leave my house but in all honesty I'm not there. Not mentally. Hell, half the time I keep my eyes closed while going down the tunnel at the PATH because I know it by heart, I don't need the eyes, may as well trick my body into thinking we're back in bed.
The first time I feel really awake is when I get to my coffee stand. I chose this one because it was about two blocks from my building giving me just enough time to take a few enormous pulls on my large iced coffee which I pay two dollars for. Not $2.25 like the price says, $2 because Coffee Guy knows I never had change and he doesn't feel like making me take 3 quarters from him. Once again, Coffee Guy was the best.
Now I don't know what to do. I had to tell the new guy what I wanted, after a week Coffee Guy knew my order. New guy just threw the straw down on the counter with my drink and handed me a napkin; Coffee Guy put the straw in the coffee (leaving the top on so he doesn't touch the business end) and wrapped the napkin around the cup so that my hand doesn't get wet from condensation. New guy charges me full price, doesn't smile, didn't say thank you, and sure as shit would never call me boss.
I feel a need to go to every coffee stand in the city until I find Coffee Guy so I can beg him to come back to his old stand and make my mornings tolerable once again.
You know that scene in As Good as it Gets when Nicholson buys the fancy doctor to take care of the asthmatic kid so that Helen Hunt will go back to work? I always thought that scene was bullshit. I knew the idea was that Nicholson was doing it out of selfish reasons because he was OCD but I saw through that and knew he was going to be making a move on her eventually. No one would spend that much money, even if they were loaded, just to get their regular waitress to come back to work.
Now I get it. If Coffee Guy has been at home taking care of an asthmatic child I will cure that lil' bastard if it means that Coffee Guy returns to his stand. If Coffee Guy is in the clink I will gladly pay his bail, if he's had a falling out with the mob after betting too much at the turtle races I will pay his debt or let the mobsters break my knees instead. I will slay a fucking dragon with a nail file if the end result is Coffee Guy giving me my quarter discount on my delicious iced coffee tomorrow morning.
I know what you're thinking, you're thinking that I'm out of my mind and I should just get over it. Maybe strike up some sort of rapport with the new guy or just go to a different cart. I can't do that. I can't cheat on Coffee Guy. When it comes to coffee purveyors I'm a penguin; I mate for life, friend.
Also, if I were to strike up any sort of rapport with an asshole who wears a paper hat in public I'd kick my own ass. I have a little dignity.
Hopefully he just took the week off. If he's not there tomorrow I don't know what I'm going to do. Maybe find his new stand and start to convince my company to relocate. I'm telling you, it's worth it. The coffee is so good. . . or at least I wouldn't have to talk to a guy in a paper hat.
Wednesday, July 10, 2013
Move it, Zebra Ass!
I learned something about humanity this morning. Apparently people don't like it when you mutter under your breath, OK, maybe it was a bit louder than under my breath. Let me start over. People don't like it when you tell them, "Move it, Zebra Ass!" as you shove past them so as to not get run over by a bus.
This was not my fault. Zebra Ass was a heavy set woman who happened to be wearing a zebra print skirt designed for a slightly less heavy set woman. As she waddled to her destination she could not be bothered to pry her eyes off of her nook or iPad or whatever device she had that she shouldn't have been reading when walking down one of the busiest damn streets in America. From a half block away I could tell that she was going to be trouble, as could the rest of my wolfpack of commuters. I was just a split second late trying to move into a passing lane and I got stuck behind Zebra Ass.
Every day I encounter 4 or 5 people just like Zebra Ass and it is enough to drive me insane. I don't know how this happened to me but somehow I have ended up with a, gasp, job. A job that, double gasp, requires me to go to an office. An office, TRIPLE GASP, located in the financial district of New York City. I'm still utterly confused as to what exactly transpired to make this happen; last thing I remember I was stocking the "Bacchus" section at Nationwide with a tallboy of Old Style under the counter and Avail on the speakers. Now I work in the same building as Fitch Ratings. It's weird.
What's super rad though is that my commute has given me so many new kinds of people to hate. Enjoy!
After Work Sprinters: These guys only exist during my commute home. As we head to the PATH station at World Trade in a nice orderly group there is always some asshole who has to be weaving in between people, running into people and generally acting like if they don't make it onto the train right now all of the first born sons in America will drop dead. Here's the thing, the trains come every five minutes. When you miss the train you just sigh, take your turn in Words with Friends and, oh what's that? The next train is already here. There is no reason to run and act like a total ass. The only guy worse than this is the one who moves at the same super quick speed but is speed walking. It's pretentious.
Phone Addicts: Every morning I am shocked by the sheer volume of people who pull their phones out immediately after getting off of the train. The only thing more shocking is that half of these morons are so enthralled by their phones that they just stand still like their feet are stuck in the concrete. I run up the back of one of these people at least once a day. It's enough to make me think that people might need to evolve some form of brake light if we are expected to survive. Here's the really galling thing about these people, who is calling or texting at 8:15 on a Thursday? Not a single one of those calls can be even remotely important.
Slow Ricky Bobby: I have no idea why I couldn't think of a real nascar driver for this one so Ricky Bobby will have to do. These are the people who walk like they are guarding the lead in the last lap and they are already out of gas. They move insanely slowly but any time you try to pass they swoop down to block your way. They deserve to be actually run over.
Hooker Shoes: I had heard jokes about this before but I finally experienced it last week: I got to watch a very attractive woman dressed in clothes barely appropriate outside of the Diamond Club get her 3-inch heel stuck in a grate. It was hilarious. I actually didn't hate this at all. Heehee.
Tourists: I know that everyone in the world complains about the tourists in their city. I don't mind the tourists, hell, for the most part I like them more than the locals, at least none of them are Yankee fans. What I hate is that their favorite activity is standing the middle of the sidewalk 5 abreast while one of them looks at a map of the wrong city. If you are lost there are two acceptable things to do. 1. Keep going in the direction you were going and hope that maybe the world is like Dark City and your destination will eventually move so that it is in front of you. 2. Get the hell out of the way before looking at the map.
The Sandra Bullock: This one might confuse you because more often than not the Sandra Bullock is a man. I have nicknamed these as the guy who absolutely refuses to stop, kinda like the bus in Speed. These are the people that when cars are crossing the street he will walk out past everyone stopped on the corner and then maybe start walking up the street a little just so he doesn't have to come to a complete stop. These guys are morons and should be run over by steamrollers and then stomped on by the USC marching band playing "Louie Louie." (I can't believe that clip from Naked Gun isn't on YouTube, way to fail, America.)
Occupy Wall Street Urchins: Ugh. So, I walk past Trinity Church on my way to work. For those of you not in New York this is where the last dregs of Occupy Wall Street are hanging out. I hate these people so very much. I had the misfortune of walking past as one of them decided to air out their dreads as they hit me in the mouth with one of them. Politically we're on the same page. Here's the difference between me and them; I understand that sleeping on the sidewalk next to a sign explaining why the banks are bad isn't going to change a single, solitary thing. Maybe when the movement was in full swing it brought a little bit of attention to issues the media might have otherwise ignored, but two years later all they are doing is pissing me off when I'm on my way to work. It's so stupid. Believe it or not no major change has ever come from doing nothing.
That's about it. Those are the brand new people that I hate in my new life of commuting. It's exciting. It's like Christmas every day. When I head back to work tomorrow I'm sure I'll find at least two new kinds of people to hate. Hooray!
This was not my fault. Zebra Ass was a heavy set woman who happened to be wearing a zebra print skirt designed for a slightly less heavy set woman. As she waddled to her destination she could not be bothered to pry her eyes off of her nook or iPad or whatever device she had that she shouldn't have been reading when walking down one of the busiest damn streets in America. From a half block away I could tell that she was going to be trouble, as could the rest of my wolfpack of commuters. I was just a split second late trying to move into a passing lane and I got stuck behind Zebra Ass.
Every day I encounter 4 or 5 people just like Zebra Ass and it is enough to drive me insane. I don't know how this happened to me but somehow I have ended up with a, gasp, job. A job that, double gasp, requires me to go to an office. An office, TRIPLE GASP, located in the financial district of New York City. I'm still utterly confused as to what exactly transpired to make this happen; last thing I remember I was stocking the "Bacchus" section at Nationwide with a tallboy of Old Style under the counter and Avail on the speakers. Now I work in the same building as Fitch Ratings. It's weird.
What's super rad though is that my commute has given me so many new kinds of people to hate. Enjoy!
After Work Sprinters: These guys only exist during my commute home. As we head to the PATH station at World Trade in a nice orderly group there is always some asshole who has to be weaving in between people, running into people and generally acting like if they don't make it onto the train right now all of the first born sons in America will drop dead. Here's the thing, the trains come every five minutes. When you miss the train you just sigh, take your turn in Words with Friends and, oh what's that? The next train is already here. There is no reason to run and act like a total ass. The only guy worse than this is the one who moves at the same super quick speed but is speed walking. It's pretentious.
Phone Addicts: Every morning I am shocked by the sheer volume of people who pull their phones out immediately after getting off of the train. The only thing more shocking is that half of these morons are so enthralled by their phones that they just stand still like their feet are stuck in the concrete. I run up the back of one of these people at least once a day. It's enough to make me think that people might need to evolve some form of brake light if we are expected to survive. Here's the really galling thing about these people, who is calling or texting at 8:15 on a Thursday? Not a single one of those calls can be even remotely important.
Slow Ricky Bobby: I have no idea why I couldn't think of a real nascar driver for this one so Ricky Bobby will have to do. These are the people who walk like they are guarding the lead in the last lap and they are already out of gas. They move insanely slowly but any time you try to pass they swoop down to block your way. They deserve to be actually run over.
Hooker Shoes: I had heard jokes about this before but I finally experienced it last week: I got to watch a very attractive woman dressed in clothes barely appropriate outside of the Diamond Club get her 3-inch heel stuck in a grate. It was hilarious. I actually didn't hate this at all. Heehee.
Tourists: I know that everyone in the world complains about the tourists in their city. I don't mind the tourists, hell, for the most part I like them more than the locals, at least none of them are Yankee fans. What I hate is that their favorite activity is standing the middle of the sidewalk 5 abreast while one of them looks at a map of the wrong city. If you are lost there are two acceptable things to do. 1. Keep going in the direction you were going and hope that maybe the world is like Dark City and your destination will eventually move so that it is in front of you. 2. Get the hell out of the way before looking at the map.
The Sandra Bullock: This one might confuse you because more often than not the Sandra Bullock is a man. I have nicknamed these as the guy who absolutely refuses to stop, kinda like the bus in Speed. These are the people that when cars are crossing the street he will walk out past everyone stopped on the corner and then maybe start walking up the street a little just so he doesn't have to come to a complete stop. These guys are morons and should be run over by steamrollers and then stomped on by the USC marching band playing "Louie Louie." (I can't believe that clip from Naked Gun isn't on YouTube, way to fail, America.)
Occupy Wall Street Urchins: Ugh. So, I walk past Trinity Church on my way to work. For those of you not in New York this is where the last dregs of Occupy Wall Street are hanging out. I hate these people so very much. I had the misfortune of walking past as one of them decided to air out their dreads as they hit me in the mouth with one of them. Politically we're on the same page. Here's the difference between me and them; I understand that sleeping on the sidewalk next to a sign explaining why the banks are bad isn't going to change a single, solitary thing. Maybe when the movement was in full swing it brought a little bit of attention to issues the media might have otherwise ignored, but two years later all they are doing is pissing me off when I'm on my way to work. It's so stupid. Believe it or not no major change has ever come from doing nothing.
That's about it. Those are the brand new people that I hate in my new life of commuting. It's exciting. It's like Christmas every day. When I head back to work tomorrow I'm sure I'll find at least two new kinds of people to hate. Hooray!
Just like your favorite cold sore I have returned
Hey blog. April 17th was a long ass time ago. I can't believe that I have been neglectful of my pretty little blog for that long. I am the worst. Just a super quick life update and explanation then we'll move on to the hate in the next post.
Since April-ish I've been working a full-time big boy writing job. I write about politics for a lil' website called hngn.com. Actually, I have ended up writing about a heck of a lot more than just politics since I've been there. In the last week I have written about Star Wars, MLB Trade Rumors, a decapitated soccer ref, Jodi Arias having phone sex, the Texas abortion bill and Obama's love of broccoli. It's pretty fun and I actually like my job. I REALLY like my paycheck.
The bad thing about my job is that I'm spending 8+ hours a day sitting at a computer writing. When I come home I usually don't want to go right back to the computer to write a blog post even though I am often filled with rage. I normally just sit in my chair, watch Lizard Lick Towing and fall asleep with a Diet Dr. Pepper balanced precariously on my lap. I am a catch.
The point is that I have been missing my blog and I have been thinking a lot about stuff to write and always failing to do so. No more excuses, my damn fingers can deal with typing just a little bit more each day. Unless I get carpal tunnel. Then I'll get worker's comp. . . hello easy street! Just kidding, I have way more dignity than to ever say I had carpal tunnel. That's a made up illness, just like gluten allergies and Asperger's.
So, if you've made you've decided to join me back on the blog, mazel tov.
Since April-ish I've been working a full-time big boy writing job. I write about politics for a lil' website called hngn.com. Actually, I have ended up writing about a heck of a lot more than just politics since I've been there. In the last week I have written about Star Wars, MLB Trade Rumors, a decapitated soccer ref, Jodi Arias having phone sex, the Texas abortion bill and Obama's love of broccoli. It's pretty fun and I actually like my job. I REALLY like my paycheck.
The bad thing about my job is that I'm spending 8+ hours a day sitting at a computer writing. When I come home I usually don't want to go right back to the computer to write a blog post even though I am often filled with rage. I normally just sit in my chair, watch Lizard Lick Towing and fall asleep with a Diet Dr. Pepper balanced precariously on my lap. I am a catch.
The point is that I have been missing my blog and I have been thinking a lot about stuff to write and always failing to do so. No more excuses, my damn fingers can deal with typing just a little bit more each day. Unless I get carpal tunnel. Then I'll get worker's comp. . . hello easy street! Just kidding, I have way more dignity than to ever say I had carpal tunnel. That's a made up illness, just like gluten allergies and Asperger's.
So, if you've made you've decided to join me back on the blog, mazel tov.
Wednesday, April 17, 2013
It's time to admit that our government is broken
For a while I had a little bit of hope that this country was finally getting over our gun lust. After the tragedy at Newtown it looked like we might make some sensible steps forward in order to curb the absolutely insane amount of gun violence that we experience in this country. Over the last few weeks I slowly understood that I was being foolish and naive to think such a thing was possible.
First the most extreme parts of the bill were gotten rid of; there would be no automatic weapon ban or ban on clips with an asinine amount of ammo. Never mind the fact that there is absolutely no reason to need an automatic weapon or a magazine with 30 or more rounds other than to kill a bunch of people as quickly as possible, people feel like limiting what type of gun they can possess in any way is unconstitutional. I'll address this argument in a bit.
After getting rid of the parts of the bill that had actual teeth there was bunch of discussion and some bi partisan agreement that a bill mandating tougher background checks should be able to pass. All this bill wanted was to simply make sure that someone wasn't crazy or a known stick up man before purchasing a gun. Background checks are widely supported by the American people. When I say widely supported I mean 90% OF PEOPLE SUPPORT BACKGROUND CHECKS. If the senators and representatives actually voted in a manner that reflected the beliefs of their constituents this this bill would pass in a second, no problem. Sadly that's not the way things work. Politicians don't work for the people, they work for special interest groups and whoever will give them the most money; and the NRA gives a fuckton of money. That's how every hope I had crashed to the ground today when the gun bill was basically taken out back and shot in the head.
Saying that congress should be ashamed of themselves is an understatement. Being unable to pass a law that 9 out of 10 Americans want shows that congress doesn't give a shit about the American people. All they care about is getting re-elected or possibly getting elected to a higher office. The entire premise of American government is based on the people who are elected acting in a way that best represents what the people who put them in office want. Sadly this is just something that kids are taught in civics class and not the way that things actually work. I don't know how a person can still have any faith in this government ever doing a thing correctly. Whether it be the flat out refusal of the two parties to work together, blowhards filibustering for no reason other than to make a name for themselves or the notion that basic civil rights are still an issue that people believe is up for argument there are a myriad of reasons you can point to in order to say that government is broken. I have been frustrated with President Obama from day one for his inability to get any of the things he promised done. Now I'm starting to see that it may very well be impossible for anyone to change a single thing in Washington, that getting any meaningful bills through congress is a thing of the past. This infuriates me. It makes me want to march on the capital with a pitchfork and a torch, although then people might think I'm going after Frankenstein.
The point is that it pisses me off. And it should piss you off too. It's disgusting that our government has been taken hostage by lobbyists and people with unlimited money to throw around until they get their way. It's fucking ridiculous and unacceptable that year after year gun nuts get their way while more and more people die. The fact that they won't even allow a common sense law mandating background checks just reaffirms every suspicion I have had that the NRA doesn't give one single fuck about human life. Over and over I hear the argument that criminals will find a way to get a gun despite background checks. Sure, that might be true but why not make it as hard as possible for them to obtain that weapon? If a background check saves one life, hell, if it saves one injury it is 100% worth it. Sorry, I care about human life and think that it's a pretty precious thing and that as a nation we should do everything we can to keep our citizens alive. Yet the NRA would make me sound like a radical for thinking that.
Lastly I want to take a second to talk about the Second Amendment. I seem to view it in a radically different way than most people do. I blame my ability to read the entire amendment and not just the part I want to read to further my agenda like some people. The second amendment reads as follows: "A well regulated militia being necessary to the security of a free state, the right of the people to keep and bear arms shall not be infringed." Let's focus on the first part for a second, the part about the militia. Guess what? We don't have militias anymore. We have the biggest and most expensive military in the world. To me this negates the second half of the amendment. Back in the day people needed to have guns because they were expected to use those weapons to defend the country when they got called up to the militia. Now? There is no need for it. So in my mind there is no need for people to have guns. I know this is an extreme point of view but I'm sick and fucking tired of reading about shooting deaths every single day in the newspaper. If people want to own automatic weapons I'm fine with that, just sign up for the army and when you're done serve in the National Guard, today's version of a militia. Do a duty for the country and earn the privilege to own a weapon.
Of course I understand that this will never happen, it's a pipe dream of mine. I'm the extremist, I'm the radical, I'm the one with the crazy thoughts. Don't forget that. Wanting to save lives and not live in fear is a platform that will get voted down by congress, even if 90% of the public supports it. We're broken and something needs to change, now.
First the most extreme parts of the bill were gotten rid of; there would be no automatic weapon ban or ban on clips with an asinine amount of ammo. Never mind the fact that there is absolutely no reason to need an automatic weapon or a magazine with 30 or more rounds other than to kill a bunch of people as quickly as possible, people feel like limiting what type of gun they can possess in any way is unconstitutional. I'll address this argument in a bit.
After getting rid of the parts of the bill that had actual teeth there was bunch of discussion and some bi partisan agreement that a bill mandating tougher background checks should be able to pass. All this bill wanted was to simply make sure that someone wasn't crazy or a known stick up man before purchasing a gun. Background checks are widely supported by the American people. When I say widely supported I mean 90% OF PEOPLE SUPPORT BACKGROUND CHECKS. If the senators and representatives actually voted in a manner that reflected the beliefs of their constituents this this bill would pass in a second, no problem. Sadly that's not the way things work. Politicians don't work for the people, they work for special interest groups and whoever will give them the most money; and the NRA gives a fuckton of money. That's how every hope I had crashed to the ground today when the gun bill was basically taken out back and shot in the head.
Saying that congress should be ashamed of themselves is an understatement. Being unable to pass a law that 9 out of 10 Americans want shows that congress doesn't give a shit about the American people. All they care about is getting re-elected or possibly getting elected to a higher office. The entire premise of American government is based on the people who are elected acting in a way that best represents what the people who put them in office want. Sadly this is just something that kids are taught in civics class and not the way that things actually work. I don't know how a person can still have any faith in this government ever doing a thing correctly. Whether it be the flat out refusal of the two parties to work together, blowhards filibustering for no reason other than to make a name for themselves or the notion that basic civil rights are still an issue that people believe is up for argument there are a myriad of reasons you can point to in order to say that government is broken. I have been frustrated with President Obama from day one for his inability to get any of the things he promised done. Now I'm starting to see that it may very well be impossible for anyone to change a single thing in Washington, that getting any meaningful bills through congress is a thing of the past. This infuriates me. It makes me want to march on the capital with a pitchfork and a torch, although then people might think I'm going after Frankenstein.
The point is that it pisses me off. And it should piss you off too. It's disgusting that our government has been taken hostage by lobbyists and people with unlimited money to throw around until they get their way. It's fucking ridiculous and unacceptable that year after year gun nuts get their way while more and more people die. The fact that they won't even allow a common sense law mandating background checks just reaffirms every suspicion I have had that the NRA doesn't give one single fuck about human life. Over and over I hear the argument that criminals will find a way to get a gun despite background checks. Sure, that might be true but why not make it as hard as possible for them to obtain that weapon? If a background check saves one life, hell, if it saves one injury it is 100% worth it. Sorry, I care about human life and think that it's a pretty precious thing and that as a nation we should do everything we can to keep our citizens alive. Yet the NRA would make me sound like a radical for thinking that.
Lastly I want to take a second to talk about the Second Amendment. I seem to view it in a radically different way than most people do. I blame my ability to read the entire amendment and not just the part I want to read to further my agenda like some people. The second amendment reads as follows: "A well regulated militia being necessary to the security of a free state, the right of the people to keep and bear arms shall not be infringed." Let's focus on the first part for a second, the part about the militia. Guess what? We don't have militias anymore. We have the biggest and most expensive military in the world. To me this negates the second half of the amendment. Back in the day people needed to have guns because they were expected to use those weapons to defend the country when they got called up to the militia. Now? There is no need for it. So in my mind there is no need for people to have guns. I know this is an extreme point of view but I'm sick and fucking tired of reading about shooting deaths every single day in the newspaper. If people want to own automatic weapons I'm fine with that, just sign up for the army and when you're done serve in the National Guard, today's version of a militia. Do a duty for the country and earn the privilege to own a weapon.
Of course I understand that this will never happen, it's a pipe dream of mine. I'm the extremist, I'm the radical, I'm the one with the crazy thoughts. Don't forget that. Wanting to save lives and not live in fear is a platform that will get voted down by congress, even if 90% of the public supports it. We're broken and something needs to change, now.
Monday, April 8, 2013
The Absolute Least You Can Do
For the last couple of days I have been trying to do laundry here at my Fortress of Angertude. I know, it seems pathetic when a grown man says that he has been trying to do laundry for multiple days but the situation is a bit unique in my building. In a building of 8 units we have 1 washer and 1 dryer. That's it. So for the last couple of days whenever I have been ready to do laundry, or more importantly whenever I have remembered that I'm lacking any clean pairs of socks, the machines have been full. Grrrrrr.
I'm sure that I could take my laundry all of a few blocks away and have it done for super cheap but that requires a Herculean effort compared to shuffling no more than 15 steps from my bedroom door to the washers here. Plus I can hear when they are running so I know when I have a window to jump in. Eventually I get my turn and throw the first load in the wash with no trouble whatsoever. Above the washer the landlord has posted a sign stating; "Do not use Canadian Currency!" This cracks me up for a few reasons. First it makes me wonder if this was ever an actual issue. Was there some super cheap tenant who wanted to take advantage of the exchange rate while doing laundry? Secondly I sort of think that the sign absolves me of using any foreign currency as long as it isn't Canadian. I'm sure that I have some Hong Kong dollars, Colones or Yuan lying around that I can use next time I do the wash, maybe I'll give it a try.
After not too long I know that the washer is done and it's time to throw in the next load and throw the first load in the dryer. This is the point in our washing experience where the second sign that the landlord has posted comes into play; "Clean out the lint trap after drying!" As I am not a trusting man I decided to give it a check anyway. It was overflowing. Unless the person before was drying nothing but lint I don't see how it was possible that this came from only one load, it was as if no one ever emptied the lint trap. Ever. How frickin' lazy are people?!
Cleaning out the lint is the most minimal task I can imagine. It actually is the absolute least you can do. Since I am an anal retentive jerk insistent on proving to the world how much better I am than the unwashed masses I decided to time myself while cleaning the lint trap. In order to give people some benefit of the doubt I did not clean the lint trap quickly either, I did it as deliberately as I possibly could while sighing and acting like a snot nosed 7 year old told to clean his room. It took 9 seconds. 9 goldarned seconds. Yet I'm expected to believe that this was TOO MUCH TIME for some jerk in a hurry.
Yet every damn time I go to dry my clothes anywhere in public there is always a full lint trap waiting for me. Of all the courteous things that a person is expected to do on a daily basis this has to be the least taxing. I'd almost go as far as to say it takes more effort to not empty the lint trap. I'm sure people claim that they forgot but this is bullshit. There has never been a public dryer in the history of the world without signs reminding you to empty the lint trap, hell, a lot of dryers have them emblazoned on them. You will be reminded to clean the lint trap so often during the process of doing laundry that unless you are illiterate or the guy from Memento you are making a conscious decision not to clean it. I'm even willing to bet the Memento guy had it tattooed on his body somewhere, that's important life info.
So, come on people. Just make that tiny little bit of effort for 9 seconds and clean out the lint trap. Don't just do it for me, do it for you. Most importantly you should do it to keep from forcing me to place a live raccoon in the dryer with your clothes next time. Jackass.
I'm sure that I could take my laundry all of a few blocks away and have it done for super cheap but that requires a Herculean effort compared to shuffling no more than 15 steps from my bedroom door to the washers here. Plus I can hear when they are running so I know when I have a window to jump in. Eventually I get my turn and throw the first load in the wash with no trouble whatsoever. Above the washer the landlord has posted a sign stating; "Do not use Canadian Currency!" This cracks me up for a few reasons. First it makes me wonder if this was ever an actual issue. Was there some super cheap tenant who wanted to take advantage of the exchange rate while doing laundry? Secondly I sort of think that the sign absolves me of using any foreign currency as long as it isn't Canadian. I'm sure that I have some Hong Kong dollars, Colones or Yuan lying around that I can use next time I do the wash, maybe I'll give it a try.
After not too long I know that the washer is done and it's time to throw in the next load and throw the first load in the dryer. This is the point in our washing experience where the second sign that the landlord has posted comes into play; "Clean out the lint trap after drying!" As I am not a trusting man I decided to give it a check anyway. It was overflowing. Unless the person before was drying nothing but lint I don't see how it was possible that this came from only one load, it was as if no one ever emptied the lint trap. Ever. How frickin' lazy are people?!
Cleaning out the lint is the most minimal task I can imagine. It actually is the absolute least you can do. Since I am an anal retentive jerk insistent on proving to the world how much better I am than the unwashed masses I decided to time myself while cleaning the lint trap. In order to give people some benefit of the doubt I did not clean the lint trap quickly either, I did it as deliberately as I possibly could while sighing and acting like a snot nosed 7 year old told to clean his room. It took 9 seconds. 9 goldarned seconds. Yet I'm expected to believe that this was TOO MUCH TIME for some jerk in a hurry.
Yet every damn time I go to dry my clothes anywhere in public there is always a full lint trap waiting for me. Of all the courteous things that a person is expected to do on a daily basis this has to be the least taxing. I'd almost go as far as to say it takes more effort to not empty the lint trap. I'm sure people claim that they forgot but this is bullshit. There has never been a public dryer in the history of the world without signs reminding you to empty the lint trap, hell, a lot of dryers have them emblazoned on them. You will be reminded to clean the lint trap so often during the process of doing laundry that unless you are illiterate or the guy from Memento you are making a conscious decision not to clean it. I'm even willing to bet the Memento guy had it tattooed on his body somewhere, that's important life info.
So, come on people. Just make that tiny little bit of effort for 9 seconds and clean out the lint trap. Don't just do it for me, do it for you. Most importantly you should do it to keep from forcing me to place a live raccoon in the dryer with your clothes next time. Jackass.
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