Post Necessity

Do you remember the story of Fort Necessity?

George Washington was out on a surveying expedition in the New World when his squad was attcked by the French army. George’s troops quickly erected a fortification and aptly named it Fort Necessity.

Soon thereafter he surrendered and was released by the French, contingent upon his promise not to return. George did return with a large supply of British Colonial troops in tow.

Our leadership were lying bastards long before they were leaders.

That however just serves as a prelude to the reason for this post. I’m at my kid’s soccer practice. One of the most annoying parents of one of the most annoying kids keeps trying to strike up a conversation.

It looks like I’m texting like crazy, but I’m really just typing this with thumbs of fury in self defense.

Google…You Know Me So Well

I am checking my Gmail this morning. At the top- where google posts a small ad based on your email contents- is a plug for Brazilian cut men’s trunks.

I don’t have any email with material even close to matching that description.

I won’t tell you what I’m wearing…but let’s just say I find google’s searches to be remarkably thorough.

Sweet Nibblets

My local paper is The Tennessean. I don’t often buy the paper version, but I visit the website frequently. Something that’s been bugging me the last couple of days is the section called “Rate their hotness”. I’ve never clicked the link, but generally it has a picture of some random, cute, twentysomething girl.

But lately who do they picture? Hannah Montana. How old is she? Somewhere around 15.

I don’t know what their playing at…but it reeks of perversion.

Reeks.

The Smell of P!ss in the Morning

Occasionally, when you step up to the urinal you catch the wafting aroma of the previous gentleman’s urine. Perhaps he didn’t flush or was a bit dehydrated.

Do you, like me, use this happenstance to play “Guess the Food”?

Sometimes it’s easy, like with Super Golden Crisps or asparagus.

It’s a game best played alone though. I find most men in the office unresponsive when I’m standing at the urinal saying, “Dude, check this out and tell me what YOU think.”

Shitlisted: People Who Pay With Exact Change

I believe every moderately intelligent person knows how annoying it is to wait in line with a Diet Coke and a $5 bill in your hand while someone digs through his/her pocket trying to pay the “exact change”.

It’s frustrating as hell. Usually the people are elderly (which means 60% fucktarded to begin with) and nearly always they are women.

Occasionally I’ll read a post, commenting similarly about people who pay with credit/debit cards.

That is me.

Two hundred dollars – plastic.

Two dollars – plastic.

I almost never carry cash. If you don’t accept plastic I will not patronize your establishment. Period. (unless someone else pays)

Am I holding people up? Wasting time?

I think it depends on the business. Some of the little swiping machines are extremely fast. They have a laser printer so the whole dial in, get authorization, and print a receipt process takes only a few seconds.

Other places…well I’m pretty sure they use carrier pigeon to get authorization, and the printers are of the Flintstone-bird-with-a-chisel variety.

If you perceive this as me wasting your time, I sincerely apologize. Time is finite. You have your allotment and that’s it. Neither you nor I want to waste precious seconds standing in line at the Kwik-E-Mart.

I’m not going to stop using plastic. But I am sorry.

Really.

Candy Gir…er…Guy

Modern cube society has introduced an interesting convention known as the “candy dish”. For the un-initiated to cube living, the candy dish is social bait. The five foot “walls” surrounding cube dwellers cut off sight, but not sound. We constantly hear other humans, but we are not interacting with them.

I’m a jerk, so I’m fine with this, though it’d be better if I didn’t hear anyone else at all.

Other people need to have some kind of face time with other humans. They set out little traps, usually a candy dish, to bring you in. Most people are polite enough to share a word or two in exchange for a Hershey’s kiss. I don’t partake of this tradition very often, but when I do, I obey the social mores and have a brief conversation.

Unless of course…I’m the last one to leave the office. Then I conduct a quick victory lap of plundering. I binge on the fun-size Kit-Kats and choke down handfuls of bite size Snickers. I take extra and stock my desk drawer for tomorrow. I laugh that I’ve beaten the system again.

For every nice candy dish person…there’s one of me.

Bracket of Badness

I’m a sports fan in general. It doesn’t matter the sport, from marbles to badminton to pole dancing…if the score is close, I’m going to watch for a little while. I enjoy competitors doing their best to win. Many fans like to participate in pools to see who can best predict how a playoff bracket, most notably March Madness, will play out.

This might seem like a prelude to a post on the Olympics in Beijing, but it’s really a more generic list-type post. Which is of course, the laziest, worst kind of post a blogger can write.

With the shocking revelation that John Edwards got bizzay with some woman that was not his wife of 30+ years, my normal blog-haunts are jumping on the bandwagon, calling him a loser, a tool, whatever.

Fact is though I don’t think being a cheating husband is the worst thing you can be. I’m in the national guard. Yes, the National Guard. If you lined up every guy (and many of the girls) in my unit and threw a rock at them…odds are high that you’d hit a cheater. But ask yourself…why the hell am I throwing rocks at strangers? However, I still think that most of them are good people. One thoughtless deed doesn’t outweigh, to me, the balance of their lives.

If I had better skillz with Google Docs, I’d draw a bracket and have the public vote on the worst crime ever. As it is, I suck balls w/gDocs and have a readership that, while sexy as hell – seriously – is statistically irrelevant.

Add to that I know much better than you anyway, so I’m going to just list 16 crimes/acts including adultery and ween them down to one, the worst. If this works out I’ll work on the other three regional brackets. Resulting in the mega-death-match of depravity.

The list.

1. Pedophilia
2. Bribery
3. Theft
4. Arson
5. Speeding
6. Selling Pot
7. Smoking Pot
8. Murder
9. DUI
10. Adultery
11. Jaywalking
12. Public Urination
13. Parking in a Handicapped Space
14. Failing to Poop Scoop
15. Battery
16. Tax Evasion

Following the standard seeding practice of 1v16, 2v15, etc., our first contest is:

Pedophilia vs Tax Evasion: This one should be pretty obvious. Tax evasion is bad but clearly giving “bad touch” to young-uns is worse. If I only had one bullet I’d shoot Chester the Molester and pistol whip the tax-evading sumbitch. Winner: Pedophilia

Bribery vs Battery: Oddly enough, I’ve never had a huge problem with bribery. If you had to do one, either offer me a hundred bucks, or punch me in the cock…all things being equal I’d rather have the money. Winner: Battery

Theft vs Non-Pooper Scoopers: No contest, when I’m running down my local greenway, very little fills me with murderous rage such as the sight of a steaming pile in the middle of the lane. You just know the owner of that dog, kicks it to sleep at night, and more than likely gets drunk and violates the animal. Thieves…well where would our literature be without them? Robin Hood, Dodger, our lives would be poorer without them. Not poorer in the real way, but poorer in a different, less monetarily relevant way. Winner: Dog Turd Leavers

Arson vs Gimp Parkers: What do we always hear from the differently abled? “We just want to be treated like everyone else!” Well, every one else just finds a space. Winner: Arson

Speeding vs Public Pissers: If you consider speeding a crime you are King de la Douches. It’s a victimless crime. Guys going number one all over the place however creates a slipping hazard, and more than likely leads to gay butt secks. Winner: Public Pee Pee

Selling Pot vs Jaywalking: One is legitimate enterprise…the other a 5 car pile up waiting to happen. Walk faster! Winner: Jaywalking

Smoking Pot vs Adultery: Again, what’s smokin’ really going to do to society? But you screw around, you get herpes or some other STD, then you bring it home…or you make a little bastard…it’s just not good overall for public health. Winner: Adultery

Murder vs DUI: This is a tough one. Murder is bad, but what if the dude had it coming? On the other hand what if you have one of those “barely there” DUI’s where you come in at a 0.081%. To make things easy, I’m going worst case. The murderer has definitely killed someone, whereas the drunk driver has a statistically better chance of missing the other cars on the highway. Winner: Murder.

You know what, my lunch hour is over, I’ll finish this bracket with an update later.

One Offs

Did anyone on the deck of the Titanic utter, “I’ve got a sinking feeling about this?” Perhaps followed by a, “Too soon?”

If there are no bottles around…can Bon Jovi tell what day it is?

Elevator shoes don’t go up and down, unless you’re actually on an elevator.

I recently had an HIV test. The results will come back as either ‘positive’ or ‘negative’. It seems to me they should be returned as ‘pass’ or ‘fail’.

Where does ’shampoo’ stop and soap start? I’ve seen guys with more fur than my dog…do they forgo Ivory and wash up exclusively with Suave? I wonder.

Are camels the ultimate shill? Joe Camel sells cigarettes. During desert storm our butt wiping paper was branded “Desert TP!” and had a picture of a camel wearing a WWII era steel pot on it’s head.

Fasteners in/on my desk: tape, rubber bands, binder clips, paper clips, and staples. But there is no glue. Fuck glue.

You’re Only Young Once…Er, Twice…No, Once.

Most of us, I believe, have a sense of smugness about us. We grew up doing things a certain way, and have come to accept our way as probably the best. For most of you, that’s bullshit you’re retarded and don’t know it, but in my case my decision making skills are impeccable…with the notable exception of the call girl with the Adam’s apple in Tijuana.

Why do I think I’m so much better than other people?

Because everywhere I look dumbassery is so damn prevalent.

Last night I went to the Journey/Cheap Trick concert in Nashville. Sure, everyone on stage except for the little Philippino singer for Journey was 1000 years old, but it was a rollicking good time.

Journey took the stage somewhere around 9 CST. From my perch, high above the stage, I saw kids all through the crowd. Not teens…or even tweens. I saw effin’ 5 year olds. Moms and dads were nice enough to provide ear muffs for little Asher & Sinclair but I see little hope for children of such fucktarded lineage, beyond a well preserved sense of hearing.

Tickets started at 40 bucks.

Even if you have human claw marks on your door, poor lighting, and an unsettling number of bloody knives and power tools mounted on your living room walls – you can find someone to watch your kid for 40 bucks.

What’s the worst that would happen? Sure, maybe the child could get molested or sold into human bondage, but really, is that so much worse than taking them to see a band that was old 20 years before they were conceived? Unless the act is Hannah Montana or the Wiggles…kids under 12 don’t belong at a concert.

It’s fun reliving our youth. The music takes us back to when we were thinner and better looking. When we could date other girls and our wives didn’t mind. When our biggest responsibility was rolling out of bed and getting to class in the morning.

The truth is though; we’re still getting wider without getting taller. Going to see Motley Crue doesn’t reverse rampant ear hair growth. We have responsibilities and one of them is not taking a dump on our kids. They’re little…they need fucking sleep.

So maybe, my fellow Gen X parents out there, the next time Ozzfest comes through town you can get Grandma to watch the tyke. If Granny’s into Ozzy and can’t watch little Thurston, maybe you can just sit this one out.

Think about it.

Just because you were born a dumbass, doesn’t mean you can’t change.

Tool of Vengeance

I think we all become very reflective at times. I believe it’s in our nature as humans to ponder our existence, to consider our impact on the world around us. For me, it’s usually most prevalent in the summer twilight hours.

Sitting on the porch of my hut, humid southern abode, I usually sip a mimosa and count the stars, and contemplate my life.

I’d say it’s a pretty good one. Loving wife and child. Friends. An array of interests that bring me a great deal of satisfaction. I generally wish my fellow man well, and feel honestly that the world is better for my having been here.

Yet, like most, I always wonder where I rate on the scale of evil. I’m not Bundy, Gacy, or Dahmer evil. I’m definitely not Hitler or Stalin evil.

But I have a wicked streak.

I have a very Cask of Amontillado sense of injury. I don’t forget any slight, no matter how I may laugh it off or appear immune. I mark them all down on my mental list of vengeance…and I always take measures to see that my hunger for revenge is sated, eventually.

Usually I take satisfaction with my cock and balls…sometimes my anus.

When I feel it necessary, I rub some possession of an enemy against my ballsack…usually late in the day after an opportunity for my nuts to ripen. On rare occasion, the object of my opponent’s affection may slide back door, if I feel the transgression warrants the transmission of E. Col. It’s not often or deep -just circling the rim- but sure, it’s happened.

A college roommate, who seldom did laundry, slept most of a semester with a pillow that had seen parts of my body only a few physicians and my mother, had. I was wise enough to hit both sides of the pillow. I’d watch him sleep, and giggle to myself.

In the big scheme, I’m not doing a lot. I’m a quiet guy. It satisfies me to know the ink pen in your mouth has grazed my nether regions. It pleases me to see you cradle the handset to your ear that minutes ago was vigorously rubbed against my nutsack.

It calms me, and quiets the voices.