Making a Few Cuts...

Well, here we are again for another rant... And with the recent climate of layoffs and unemployment in the country I've decided that today I am going to pretend that I am Earth's HR department, and "lay off" some unneeded parts of the human race.

So lets get started shall we?

First up... People who greet others with "Are you getting any?". Well actually, I guess it really comes out more like "Ya gettin'any?"

What an odd greeting. It's strange to me how just saying something a certain way makes it not quite as off key. It's like you're walking up to someone and yelling "HAVE YOU RECEIVED INTERCOURSE RECENTLY, SIR?". Try breaking the ice with that one at the next party. Hell, I just yelled it to myself in the car and even I want to slap me.

It's also a little rude to those of us who have not received "any" for quite some time. I mean geez, be considerate here! And granted, I'm aware that folks are under no circumstances supposed to answer with anything other than "Of course! 30 times, just last night!". After all, it's very unmanly to openly admit that you're about as interesting to the opposite sex as a jump rope to a quadriplegic, and this greeting is (I'm guessing) a strictly male relation. But have a heart folks... Some of us just aren't as god damn irresistible as you!

It is also sort of an open ended question I've noticed. Any answer is supposed to end with "... are you?" which allows the asker to elaborate on his most recent sexual escapades. I always just answer with a flat, toneless, "No." It sort of diffuses the situation, or I guess it may also give off the impression of a sexually frustrated serial killer? Nah, certainly not with my top notch people skills.

So anyway, "gettin' any" folks... please clean out your desks on your way out.

Next up... People who constantly brag about how fast they drive, and how their police friends get them out of speeding tickets.

Come on... we all have "that guy" at the office... I sincerely hope you're not "that guy", because if you are... I've got some bad news.

Does anyone honestly give two fucks about these folks, and their NASCAR adventures on our highways? I know I certainly don't. And I care even less about how Bobby down at the precinct can talk to the judge, and get your ticket thrown out every time. I don't care about your daring escapes. I don't care if you got caught doing 88 in a 40, with 1.21 gigawatts of electricity coursing through the bowels of your DeLorean.

Why don't you just hold me down on the floor and scream in my face "I HAVE CONNECTIONS! I AM IMPORTANT! I LIVE ON THE EDGE! LOOK AT ME! ENVY ME!!!" What I really hope is that Bobby down at the precinct gets caught smuggling drugs out of the evidence room, your ticket clears the system, and you lose your license.

Fast driving braggarts... please turn in your keys to security.

NEXT UP!

The "That's what she said" crowd.

Jesus fucking bastard whore Christ. I wish I had a rubber mallet up my sleeve for every time someone throws this out there. I'm not sure I can really elaborate further on this one. Just quit it, okay?

"That's what she said" people... Don't expect a callback. Ever.

Next!

Name droppers.

Ever have that person at work who is supposed to get something done, but they don't know how to do it themselves (because they are an ignorant, useless waste of genetic material)... so they come up to you with this shit: "Hey, (insert 'important' person's name here) wants me to have you do this." and you're expected to just jump right on that shit.

Now, I've had this bite me in the ass a few times, but I always just say "okay." and immediately put that person as far back on the back burner as I possibly can. Rarely is it ever actually that important, and if you ignore it long enough, usually the person will convince someone else to do their work for them, or in certain rare cases, they'll do it themselves.

Another route you can take on this: Make up some bullshit question about the work, and take it to the person who supposedly assigned it, and be like "Hey, Captain MouthBreather asked me to do this, and I'm not sure about this part here." all the while implying with your tone of voice "I'm not sure about this part here (BECAUSE IT IS NOT MY FUCKING JOB!)". A good portion of the time you'll have the pleasure of "Well why the hell is he having you do it?". Do your own fucking job bastards.

So, Name Droppers, We'll give you a call if any positions open up in the sewage cleaning department.

Next up...

These people who forward chain letter emails about how Obama is a Muslim, or bullshit military crap, or about how Microsoft will pay me 987592873958 dollars for every person on my contact list I forward this on to. And lets not forget that "Only 63.5893% of you will forward this on..." shit, trying to shame me into thinking it is my moral duty to pass on this drivel. Please do us all a favor, and forward yourself off of my Internet.

Chain letter enablers, don't email us, we'll email you, and if you don't send it back to us within 1 hour, then Jesus died for absolutely nothing.

Well... some tough calls have been made today. But with the uncertainty of today's market, difficult decisions had to be made. Things may get worse before they get better, and more cuts may have to be made in the future (So don't get too comfortable "Always complaining about the movie" guy), but for now we feel that we've made the best decisions possible to ensure sustainability into the next quarter.

So lets all put our best foot forward and make the best of this brave new world!



P.S. You may be asking yourselves what I intend to do with the unfortunate folks who had to go?

Well... As you may know, I am a huge advocate of space exploration, and those first few trips to Mars are going to be dangerous as hell... Just saying.

Another day, Another Dollar

The office was cold even though it was in the mid 70's outside. It is always cold in this building.

My boss has called me in for a 7:00 AM meeting. Which is bullshit because I know he never arrives before 8:30 himself.

I arrive at 7:45. The coffee begins to brew.

He arrives at 8:36. Calls me into his office.

His hair is unkempt and graying. The same can be said for the homeless beard he currently wears. He holds a double sized coffee mug that says "YES, I NEED THIS MUCH COFFEE." He sits down.

"Ads..." he says, almost as if he were speaking the name of the man who killed his wife, unborn child, puppy, and best friend. "They've put up ads."

"I don't understand sir..."

"Weapon Mods son." He sips his coffee. "Those bastards have put up ads, can ya believe it?"

I could not.

"I thought old Kas had a little more integrity than that hahah." He lights a cigar. This is a 'No Smoking' building "Or at least I thought that HE thought he had more integrity than that!"

He laughs. It turns into a cough. This lasts a while. I sit quietly.

"We need to bury them..." He finally manages. "We need to bury them now. It's time. I need your best son, I need all you've got. Now you've been in my employ for what... 3 years now? All I ever see you doing is sitting on your ass, playing Legend of Zelda, and napping. Now I'm an easy man to work for, but enough is enough. I need SOMETHING from you here."

I sit quietly.

"Well haven't you got anything to say boy?!"

"Sir..." I say in the closest manner to 'respect' that I can muster. "I've tried to post several things lately... But you always fight me on them. Like that time I wanted to do the piece on political ideals and how all sides are wrong and all choices are bad... You told me it was too preachy and it might give readers the idea that we actually give a shit here..."

He rubs the stubble on his face. "This ain't Slacker Conservative boy. I refuse to involve myself in these popularity contests we call democracy. We are not a political publication. Period."

"Very well sir... Its just that it is so easy to make fun of them, and you were pushing for views... I thought you would like that idea. Moving on then... It was suggested to me recently that maybe we should do some movie reviews..."

"God dammit boy...!" he slams his hand upon the desktop, pens scatter, the giant coffee mug inches toward the edge. I say nothing. "I don't give half a shit what you think about a god damned movie. You got that? If I want to know what a film is like, I'll watch the god damned thing. I don't need some pretentious little prick telling me how much better the book was, understand?"

He takes a long draw of the cigar. I tap my fingers upon my knees.

"Okaaaaaay... Well I had a lot of good response from the 'Little Barber Shop of Horrors' post."

Coffee drink. "Don't give a damn about your neurotic childhood either kid."

"Well... I thought about posting about my dog once."

"Are you fucking kidding me with this?"

I was not. I chuckle lightly as if I had been.

"What would you like me to post sir?"

"I pay you to post boy. So post. Come up with SOMETHING. I have faith in ya. Just bury that hack Dorge Kas, and I'll give you a 10% raise, an extra week vacation, and all the god damn diet berry tea you can drink. Got it? Now get outta here. Go do something."

I'll probably be fired for making this a post. This is JL... Signing off.

Just a Quick Note...

Dear incessant whiners, crybabies, activists, lobbyists, loyalists, snobs, hipsters, republicans, democrats, independents, patriots, religious "authorities", atheists, minorities, majorities, racists, feminists, sexists, straights, gays, bisexuals (okay, that was a joke... the bisexuals never complain.), reality TV "stars", athletes, hair stylists, vegans, meat eaters, humanitarians, PETA, cab drivers, plumbers, and interior designers,

Shut up. I don't care.

This "post" is brought to you by the fact that I haven't posted in months, and this seems to sum up the whole of my thought process anyway. Thank you, and goodnight.

Little Barber Shop of Horrors

Dear readers, do any of you remember the very first thing in this world that you hated with all your might? The thing that... the very thought of it made you cringe with horror and try to find an escape? I remember mine...

I hate having my hair cut.

It inspires a special anxiety in me that I'm not really sure I can describe here. I discovered this at a very young age... well before school. It is something that has plagued my thoughts since I realized that I even had thoughts of my own.

It all started when I was a young boy...

My grandfather (who most of my life, and still to this day, has kept his hair trimmed almost to his skull in a military type haircut) would take me to this old man barber in a town called Smithers. This man was called "O'Brien". He had a little shop on the front street of town with the little spinning red and white "I cut hair!" thing, and his shop was where all the old men would hang out and discuss old man things.

This is where my anxiety begins.

The first problem was straight awkwardness and discomfort. I was never sure what to do with myself as a child while these men discussed things that I didn't understand. Politics and the like. So I would tend to feel like my hands and feet had no rightful place. I sat there thinking so hard on what would be the most "casual" position for me to sit. What would make me the least conspicuous? How can I not be noticed?

But the problem with that... which is a lesson I've learned over and over and over my entire life... is that trying not to be noticed is the surest way to attract attention.

So I would sit there. Enduring their small talk, and the occasional piece of conversation would be directed toward me, until finally the other patrons who were there before us would leave, and it would be my turn to go under the blade.

The actual cutting with the scissors never bothered me. Though I do recall he accidentally cut my ear once... just a bit... nothing serious. This did not scare my young child mind one bit. But let me tell you what did folks.

That damn buzzing thing they use on the back of your neck.

To this day I have no fucking idea what the thing is actually called. As a child I simply called it "the buzzer". It haunted my dreams. Like some lurking evil Satan machine that had come to devour the back of my head. I had to be physically calmed while it was active.

I HATED that fucking buzzer. And it hated me. And so this went on through my very early years.

Eventually I grew out of my paralyzing fear of the buzzer, In fact I got to the point where the actual hair cutting action didn't bother me at all. Once I get into that chair everything is fine. But in its place the awkwardness and fear grew rampant. The terror of sitting in the waiting area with four or five strangers... Everyone flipping through magazines they don't care about, and all the while I'm wondering "WHAT DO I DO WITH MY HANDS!!?!?!? DEAR GOD WHERE SHOULD MY FEET BE!?!?!"

This feeling finally caused me to attempt to renounce hair cutting all together.

I had always wanted to grow my hair long... And this was no fashion statement. During my teenage years people probably saw me and thought "Oh, this guy plays guitar, and he has long hair. This is typical and it is obviously because he is a "rocker"". No. It had nothing to do with the amount of rocking that I was doing, ladies and gentlemen. It was just pure, good old fashioned social anxiety and fear.

See, my plan was that if my hair was long, sure it would just keep getting longer, but I could just keep tying it back and ignore it. When it would finally get to the point that it was ridiculously long I would break down and go into the place and be like "clean this up, shoulder length please." Problem solved right? Do I give a fuck if people say "oh look at you with your girly long hair!"?

Fuck no I don't.

So during my early teens, I begged my parents to let me grow my hair long. They always said "No. you need to get your hair cut." But they didn't really always have time to take me. So I would never press the issue. And so my hair would grow unkempt for long periods of time with nothing to keep it in check. It would become long in the front and even longer in the back. It looked like a mullet that forgot it was supposed to be short on top. But I just kept ignoring it. Sure I looked like a circus freak... but at least I didn't have to sit in that room... Waiting with those people.

And so my parents would have to put it off and put it off. I would start planning haircuts ahead of time. I would feign sickness on my mom's day off, because I knew that if I didn't act too sick, she may take me to get my hair cut at an odd hour during the day when it was likely that nobody would be there waiting.

And so this went on for years.

The only way I saw to escape this cycle was to have someone cut my hair to where it was all growing out one length, let it grow, and just start tying it back. My hair always grew ridiculously fast, but once it gets out to the "long" stage it seems to slow to a more manageable stage.

So around the time I was sixteen or so and had my own car and a bit of my own money... I braved the scissors... one... last... time... (for a little while anyway.)

So I finally let it grow long. And my parents scowled for a while and then completely ceased to give a shit. And grow long it did. For almost 10 years I kept it that way. Getting a haircut maybe twice a year.

It was glorious.

But somewhere along the line... with no real catalyst to the decision, I unwisely decided to cut it short.

"I need a change." I thought.

Phsshhh change. And for what? What possible purpose would this serve. None my dear readers. None.

But I did it anyway... I cut it short. And the beast of my rapid growth hair was awakened. So I had to start thinking about haircuts every few months. I discovered that the fear never really went away. It has just been dormant.

Now when my hair gets to that point of really badly needing cut... I have to think about it for a few days beforehand... kind of work myself up to it. Then for a few days after that, I find myself literally stalking the barber. I drive by the shop and casually glance inside to see how many people are waiting and try to decide if I can deal with being in there with them.

Eventually after a couple days of this freakish ritual, I will finally decide to go in. Usually I will be noticed, and picked up relatively soon. The hair will be cut and all the anxiety will fade for another few months.

But recently I had a disturbing experience that has further set me back. I talked myself into entering the den of the beast... I sat down in the waiting area with nobody else waiting. "This is perfect" I thought "They'll pick me up fast and I wont even have to be here long."

I thought I had it all figured out.

Unfortunately, I was wrong. For some reason I was completely ignored. Everyone there simply went about their business like there wasn't even a customer sitting there. I thought "well he must be busy with cleanup or something." so I waited, and waited... and waited.

Nothing. It had finally happened. I had become too inconspicuous.

When it got to the point that I decided they were never going to acknowledge me even if I sat there until our parent star entered it's red giant phase, I discovered that I had a new problem. "How do I leave here without instantly calling uncomfortable attention to myself?" There was a loud bell on the door that would announce my exit just as surely as it announced my arrival.

I could see the whole terrible scene play out in my head... I stand up to leave and suddenly it would be like that moment in the old cartoons where Bugs Bunny is tip toeing through the sleeping pack of ravenous dogs and suddenly they are all wide eyed and staring at him. I would be assaulted with a flood of unwanted apologies and sympathy.

"Oh man I'm sorry! Didn't see you there! You ready to come on back? I'm really sorry!"

and I would have to say "Oh no, its okay.", "No problem", "Really its no big deal..." 30 times. They might give me a pity discount that I would gladly pay just to have been completely unacknowledged.

So at this point I made a decision... I had been playing with my phone idly while I sat there just to look like I was doing something other than sitting there trying to figure out what to do with my arms and legs (I had checked all of my empty email boxes at least 6 times by this point.) So I took a page from an old friend and rustled up a fake phone call. I didn't have the fancy app to make my phone ring for real... but I would just let the onlookers think it had been on silent.

"Hello?" I said "Oh not much, what are you up to?"

As I said this I stood up and walked out the door with its loud bell ringing behind me. They may have noticed me but wouldn't dare assault me while I was on the phone with someone. They probably thought I was just going outside for some privacy on the call.

As soon as I had exited the building I burned a path to my Jeep and pulled out of there.

Meanwhile, my hair still grows. It festers.

It waits.

Insert Comment Here (Part 2)

Welcome to Monday everyone. Please leave all your expectations for good things at the door.

After causing a minor diplomatic incident between Weapon Mods and Slacker Conservative with my last post, I thought I would calm it down a bit here, and rehash an old post with some new fury.

Reading an article earlier today about Jupiter's gravitational effects upon comets and asteroids, I once again fell victim to my compulsion to read the comments section. There I discovered this gem from "John" in Bend Oregon...

After reading this wild, out there, speculative article I am reinforced with the conclusion that we should stop space exploration and focus on the problems here on earth. Only evolutionists and godless individuals worry about these kind of calamities and, unfortunately for them, take God out of the bigger picture when they should focus on what God's plan is for this Earth.


Truth #1 = God made the Earth and has a purpose for it (Isaiah 45:18)


18 For this is what Jehovah has said, the Creator of the heavens, He the [true] God, the Former of the earth and the Maker of it, He the One who firmly established it, who did not create it simply for nothing, who formed it even to be inhabited: “I am Jehovah, and there is no one else.

Truth #2 = The Earth will last forever. Scientists never include Jehovah God in their calculations...if humans could divert an asteriod, why can't God? (Psalm 104:5) 5 He has founded the earth upon its established places; It will not be made to totter to time indefinite, or forever.


Truth #3 = Righteous humans will inhabit this planet forever.


(Psalm 37:29) 29 The righteous themselves will possess the earth, And they will reside forever upon it.


Truth #4 = The problems on this Earth will very soon be permanently fixed.


(2 Thessalonians 1:6-9) 6 This takes into account that it is righteous on God’s part to repay tribulation to those who make tribulation for YOU, 7 but, to YOU who suffer tribulation, relief along with us at the revelation of the Lord Jesus from heaven with his powerful angels 8 in a flaming fire, as he brings vengeance upon those who do not know God and those who do not obey the good news about our Lord Jesus. 9 These very ones will undergo the judicial punishment of everlasting destruction from before the Lord and from the glory of his strength. . .


God's Kingdom, at the hands of Jesus Christ, will soon remove opposers to his will and purpose for the benefit of righteous people and fix things here on Earth. Let God's Kingdom come (Matthew 6:9,10; 24:14; Revelation 21:1-5) Truth !!.
 
I'm so glad that John was around to set us all straight about how silly it is to try to track and predict asteroids. Obviously we should just let them go, and if there is an imminent impact risk, Jesus will just show up with a big catcher's glove.
 
Now, I have no problem with people having religious beliefs. I don't share them myself, but I recognize their purpose, and I don't pretend to know anything for sure about the universe and how it came to be. But folks... These disturbed individuals are out there, wrapping themselves up in an ignorance blanket and condemning all who do not. These are the same people who vote for politicians because they had a photo op at a church with some smiling old people. They are breeding and making more of themselves. I recently overheard a coworker discussing how he had beaten his daughter the night before because she refused to say her prayers.
 
Sounds like she needs to pray for a more intelligent father.
 
Live in fear.
 
 
 
 
 
On a lighter note. Here's a power glove.
 
 

 

Dark Secrets... Almost Forgotten. But Not Quite...

I'm sorry Patrick. The story must be told.

This is the story of how two self professed "gamers" met their most bitter and humiliating defeat at the hands... of a door.


It was the summer of 1999. I was lazily wasting away the day replaying Final Fantasy VII for about the 50th time, when my friend Pat calls.

He is playing The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time. A game that I had played and finished myself not 6 months prior.

Patrick has a problem.

"I'm in this ice cavern" he says "I'm at the very end of the map... there is one more room, and a door... but I cant figure out how to get this damn door open."

"Hmmm" I think to myself. "I don't quite remember that... Let me start up my game and walk you through it."

And so I did...

I loaded up my game that was saved just before the final castle. My Link is equipped with every piece of gear and every upgrade available in the game.

This ice cavern... is about to meet it's match!

So I called my trusty steed Epona and traversed the land of Hyrule. Back into the adult Link's version of Zora's Domain which had frozen over. Creating the dreaded cavern that had so far befuddled my friend.

I smugly entered the cave and dispatched all resistance on the way to our goal. My superior gear and past experience would lead me to victory here. I needed nothing and no one.

Finally I arrived at the door in question. Master Sword in hand I surveyed the area... "Hmmm... " I thought "There appears to be no obvious Zelda puzzle door trappings here..."

There was no timed switch...

There was no block puzzle...

There was no target to shoot at to open the door...

"Ahhhhh!!!" I thought... "I have the solution for this my friend..."

It was so obvious. How could he have missed it?

Ladies and gentlemen... I bombed the fuck out of that door.

Nothing.

Not even a scratch.


"Hmmmm... Perhaps... well maybe... I mean... Maybe it's a certain song you have to play on the ocarina?"

I knew I was reaching here already folks... There were none of the usual signs of an ocarina puzzle here... no plate on the floor or walls... I should have known already that I had failed. Failed my friend... Failed my people.

So I started playing songs for the door. All the while Pat is doing the same and trying all the tricks in his bag.

We casts spells at it. We bombed it. We shot arrows at it. We hit it with hammers, swords... Hell I even fired my hookshot at the damn thing. I guess I thought maybe all that "Hey!! Listen!!!" from Navi had been her trying to remind me about the hookshot's battering ram attachment.

Nothing. The door stood unfazed. Laughing at our pale attempts to breach it.

One of us had the bright idea that perhaps it had to be a certain time of the day. So we walked all the way outside and played the sun song and then all the way back in. Nothing.

Had both of our games somehow glitched on the same door at the same time? How had I passed through this cavern before. I knew that I had... because I remembered that there was a fight against some wolves on the other side. But how? How had I done it...?

Suddenly... There was an awkward silence on the phone.

"James..." said Pat... "Press A."

"Huh?" I replied.

"Walk to the door... and press A."

I walked to the door.
I pressed A.

It opened.

Lifting Your Spirits Since 2009

My good friend Dorge Kas told me that I needed to write an uplifting post for today. So in the name of happiness and love I had to get this done.

Happy Valentines Day everyone.

Aeris dies.