There's easier ways to torment a child...

So, apparently, making the rounds on the internet is a story about a guy who, after being annoyed by a child behind him at a fast food restaurant, bought all of the pies the establishment had in order to teach the young lad a lesson (bottom of this post is the link to the story if you'd like to read it). You see, apparently the young child was throwing a fit about wanting a pie, and our hero of the story felt it was a rock star move of epic, almost Hellenistic proportions, to buy them all up prior to the child getting his tantrum indulged. Personally, I felt the gentleman who shared this story got it all wrong. A far more economical way to get a lesson across to the young child, i.e. the one I would have employed, would be this:

I would have calmly turned around, and explained to the child in terms he/she could understand, that all living things, including them, must and will die. It is the inevitable end result of our creation and the source of our ever present existential angst. And, lest he/she thinks they are guaranteed a long happy existence, further explained the mere act of crossing the street can result in your immediate and untimely demise, provided some unexpected horrible disease doesn't get you first. Oh, and then I'd throw in the fact that Santa Claus isn't real, and how their birth destroyed their mother's dreams and ambitions.

See? If one wants to be an epic asshole, and, in a twist of irony, be a far more petulant child than the one you're attempting to give the "what for", it doesn't have to cost you the out of pocket expense of a multitude of miniature pies. 

The article:

http://theconcourse.deadspin.com/dont-buy-all-the-pies-at-burger-king-to-spite-a-child-1617620956/+AlbertBurneko

Parking Lot Etiquette, Assholes, and Hair Gel

So, a few weeks ago I had my head up my ass.  It happens to the best of us.  Know what separates us from the animals?  Our ability to ADMIT the occasions when we have our head up our ass.  Those that CANNOT admit this, therefore, are complete assholes (ok, "asshole" is not an animal per se, or not even a "per se" actually, but this is the most appropriate word for the situation, and I refuse to go back and re-write my introductory statement.  Moving on...).  Those that cannot forgive those of us who can admit when we had our head up our ass are even bigger assholes (think blue whale sphincter...rhino anus*...Godzilla's dark star**...etc), at least, in my opinion, that is.  So, with these declarations in place, here's my short, cautionary story about assholes and proper parking lot etiquette:

I was driving in my local supermarket/strip mall parking lot at a breakneck speed of about 7 MPH.  As I approached an intersection within the parking lot, I was simultaneously fucking with my stereo, dialing a phone number, and reaching in my back seat for my wallet.  In other words, admittedly, not being real attentive.  A gentleman, and by gentleman, I mean hair gelled*** prick in a BMW, had already entered the intersection, and therefore had the right of way.  Me, due to having my head up my ass, did not see him and rolled into the intersection.  I looked up, and due to my whopping speed of 7 MPH, was able to stop my car about 15 FT. from his car.  It wouldn't even warrant calling it a close call. Calling it a close call would be like calling sex with your ex a good idea****.  In other words, it's not (it wasn't? Whatever).  So, because I adhere to proper parking lot etiquette, even though this wasn't a close call, or anything remotely perilous, I did the mea culpa with the hand and facial (heh heh...I said "facial") gestures that intimated "Sorry.  I had my head up my ass...and yes, I find this embarrassing.  Please proceed good sir."  Now, the proper response to my top notch display of etiquette would be a smile and a friendly nod that says, "Hey, no worries...we all have our moments of head up assedness...and thank you for recognizing yours like a true mensch."  And then we would both proceed on our way, thinking human beings aren't really all that bad a bunch after all.  But no.  This is not the case.  Human beings, of course, do suck.  Mightily.  So, Mr. Dippitty Doo here has to pile it on.  It's not enough that I've acknowledged my breach of safety procedures.  Oh no.  Porcupine head here has to give the wild "WTF???" shoulder shrugs and "Pull your head out your ass!" hand gestures to, you know, really hammer the point home.  But, do you want to know what really happens here?  There's no further lesson learned on my part.  NONE.  AT ALL.  His tough love is getting him NOWHERE in my lessons learned department.  Know what lesson he IS in danger of learning?  This one: that what his wild gesticulations DO inspire in me is not additional shame, but rather I pretty much shift into a red mist of rage, and have to use every neuron within my body to stop my brain from causing my foot to mash on the gas pedal, and launching my front bumper into a smoking tire beeline right into his drivers side door in the hope that not only can I see his eyeballs explode out of his skull in a geyser of blood and gray matter, and maybe, if I can find the free time in my schedule, also attend his funeral to hear the lamentations of his loved ones*****.  Because at this moment, that sounds like a really great time to me.  Naturally, this doesn't happen as the neurons win out in restraining me, and Mr. 10w30 hair job continues, obliviously, on his way in a self righteous cloud, not knowing I just let him live out the rest of his overly crunchy headed days in hair gelled, douchey peace.******

Anyways, point being, when somebody admits to their mistake, be gracious enough to accept it...for the love of god.

*Rhino Anus: if this isn't an ancient Chinese aphrodisiac  it should be.
**Godzilla's dark star: wasn't that the 2nd track off of Radiohead's 3rd album?
***Hair gelled prick: hair gel is the blue pinstripe business suit of the prick world.
****Sex with your ex: bad idea.  Unless they're good in bed.  And hot.  And kinda dirty. And you crave a little drama.  Then go for it.  Jesus Christ...figure it out for yourself...what am I?  Miss Manners???  For fuck's sake grow a pair and make a bad decision once in a while.
*****Vehicular manslaughter: this is of course used as hyperbole.  Juicy, delicious, amazing hyperbole.
******Live out the rest of his days in douchey peace: unless of course I change my mind, follow him home, and call in a precision drone strike.  Apparently you can get a drone strike ordered anywhere nowadays.

   

Been A While...

I don't go on rants as often as I used to. The reasons as to why are many I'm sure (or not...who knows?), but I still do take notice of the occasional annoying/petty/stupid/hypocritical things people and society at large, do. And so, without further adieu, the most recent annoying things I feel are comment worthy.

-There's this radio ad I've heard several times the last few weeks for lasik surgery. As a guy who now wears glasses, I can understand how there might be a market for people who wish to have their vision permanently improved, and remove the need for wearing glasses/contacts. Now, you would think a radio ad for such a surgical procedure would go something like this: "Tired of wearing glasses/contacts? With a short surgical procedure we can restore your vision back to 20/20...permanently." There you go. An ad that tells you what the service is and what it can do for you. Short and to the pont. Clear in its intent and succinct. But that would be too simple and make too much sense, wouldn't it? You see, advertising is all fear based. Rather than show you a useful and life improving service or product, and illustrate how that product can work for you, advertisers like to instill a sense of dread in their target audience that if they don't buy this product, your life will take a turn for the worse. You will smell worse, your penis won't work right, your hair won't grow/lay flat/be wavy/be blond-red-brunette, the hair you DON'T want won't go away and keep growing, you'll get fat, you'll be too skinny and won't gain muscle weight, the car you drive isn't sexy enough, the car you drive isn't practical enough, the car you drive isn't green enough, etc., etc. So, you may or may not be asking yourself, how could you possibly freak somebody out with a lasik commercial? Like this: the commercial starts out with the sounds of what appears to be somebody breaking into a house, presumably late at night. The wife freaks out in a hushed panicky voice, and the husband fumbles around stating "I can't find my glasses!!!" The woman says "Oh my god...they're inside...the children! What about the children???" And the guy states: "I can't see a thing...where'd I leave my glasses????" The wife then states: "What are we gonna do???" Good question lady. Perhaps you could start by calling 911? So, there you go. According to the lasik people, if you don't have their procedure, you will be murdered in your bedroom by a gang of thrill kill psychopaths breaking into your home, and your kids will be either sold off into a Russian white slavery ring, or, dragged down into some sort of torture dungeon. Wow. Pretty grisly stuff, and definitely a good reason to get that lasik surgery! However, what I'm confused about is how this scenario is supposed to play out differently if the man had, in fact, already had the lasik procedure. Would it go something like this: Sound of people breaking in home. Wife to husband: "Well honey, you know what to do." Man calmly, but with a bit of pity in his voice, almost Eastwood-like, "Yep. Be back in a sec", as he knows that the evil doers who just broke into their house have no idea what they're in for...and that is some seriously vision corrected ass kicking. Man goes downstairs and the following is heard: "Oh my god...he's not wearing glasses!!! RUN!!!" Then there's the sound of what appears to be laser beams being fired. "Oh my god! His lasik corrected perfect vision is burning a hole right through my chest! Arrrrrrhhgghgghhg!!!!!" Then there's the sound of hearts exploding and sizzling flesh. "Eat hot lasik death you burglarizing evil doing pieces of filth!!!! Muwahahaha!!!! Get some! Get some!!!!" More laser vision being fired, more hearts exploding with the sound of panicky bad guys meeting a gruesome end as they die horrifying deaths. After the grotesque, but triumphant scene downstairs, the man goes back upstairs, eyeballs his wife, and states: "Poor fucks never knew what hit them...thank you lasik eye surgery center. Now give me some sugar baby..." Aaaaaand scene.

Anyway, this commercial kinda pissed me off because they basically equated wearing glasses to sacrificing the potential well being of your family...which I find reprehensible.

-I woke up this morning at 4am thinking one of a few things had happened, due to the nuclear fusion like illumination burning THROUGH the curtains of my bedroom window. 1) the apocalypse was indeed upon us and all those fundamentalists were right. Oh shit. 2) the last day of Burning Man was being celebrated in my back yard and nobody invited me. The bastards. 3) A small tactical nuke had been set off as Al Queda had determined my neighborhood was a high value target...I'm guessing due to our overly infidel adherence to maintaining our landscaping and pools. 4) The sun had just gone supernova and I had eight minutes to live...which made me contemplate there was no need to get out of my warm bed and take a leak after all. I think I could probably hold out for eight minutes. 5) The mothership had just landed outside my window, the aliens were here, and I was about to get an anal probe. Man...talk about a buzz kill. Hopefully the gray, big eyed bastards would have the decency to buy me a drink first...you now...kinda ease into it. 6) My idiot neighbor had just installed a backyard light that had the equivalent of 14 trillion candlepower. Well, it was #6. Is there any reason to illuminate your backyard with the brilliance of a Class A star? What in the hell are you trying to illuminate back there? You concerned Charlie is hiding in the tree line and are going to need to call in an air strike? Maybe you are anticipating the need to crack a chest and do a little impromptu open heart surgery next to the bbq pit at 3am? "Scalpel. Check. Chest spreader? Check. Clamp? Check? Spatula and tongs? Check. Ok. Lets save a life...and for crying out loud..keep an eye on those burgers...oh, and pass me a cold one...I'm going in." I don't really know how to finish this thought other than saying my neighbor sucks. I think that probably sums it up nicely.

-I would really like to know what goes on in peoples heads as they're driving (actual answer: nothing is going on in their heads other than the sound of waves crashing on the beach, the buzz of a solitary fly, or the sound of an EKG machine when it's flatlining...you know, that "bewwwwwwwwwwwwww" sound). I ask this question because of the following encounter: I was exiting the freeway at an over crossing. The over crossing has an unusually high crown to it, which basically means you can't see oncoming traffic to the left or right until they've crested the rise and are almost right on top of you. So, you have to be careful and really hyper vigilant as you pull into traffic. I look left and right, and left again. No oncoming cars. I start to pull into traffic by making a left turn, and, like a Scud missile screaming across the desert, came a tatted up idiot in a graphics laden Mustang. Because I was actually paying fucking attention to what I was doing, I saw the methed out tweaker maniac coming and promptly stopped my car before entering the lane. This is a crucial point I want to get across here: I stopped before entering the lane, and he was still a good 100 ft. away. So, here now is the scene: the oncoming Mustang's lane is still WIDE OPEN, I'm stopped while he was still 100 ft. away, and there is no traffic obstruction as he approached. So what does this basement dweller of Maslow's Hierarchy do as he drives by completely unencumbered by me or anybody else? Yep. He honks. Apparently this Affliction hat wearing, tattooed neck having, graphics Mustang sporting lunkhead was not the unmitigated asshole I made him out to be, but was, in fact, a theoretical physicist. I say this because the only reason I can imagine that he would have honked when there was absolutely no danger of a collision is because, in that short amount of time, he worked a quick calculation in his head and wanted to let me know that in alternate, parallel universe, we had a collision. In some alternate reality, we were no doubt having a conversation where he was trying to explain to me "Yes, he WOULD have had car insurance had he not spent his last $150 on a new tattoo and would I consider an 1/8oz of weed as fair compensation for my damage" and "Just because he was doing 65mph in a 40mph zone he doesn't see how any of this could be his fault...but he's got the hook up with a bouncer at a local strip club if I'm willing to forget this happened...". Needless to say, I greatly appreciate his desire to expand my physics loving mind into the realm of worlds just beyond the thin membrane that separates them from our own...

Then again, may be it was a congratulatory honk celebrating my professional alertness whilst behind the wheel, and how my vigilant driving posture saved us from having a collision due to his driving with his head up his ass. Maybe his honk said: "Well played my good man! Your strict adherence to actually paying attention to what your doing has paid off handsomely good sir, as your efforts prevented us from having a rather unfortunate collision due to my disgusting, self absorbed carelessness!"

Nah...I seriously doubt it...I think he was most likely just an asshole.

Marilyn Monroe and Lance

So, I’ve seen a lot of women over the years post the following quote on various social media profiles:

"I'm selfish, impatient and a little insecure. I make mistakes, I am out of control and at times hard to handle. But if you can't handle me at my worst, then you sure as hell don't deserve me at my best."

Now, I know a lot of you ladies think this says, “Hey, I’m not perfect, and if you cannot accept that, then you have unrealistic expectations and are unworthy of a relationship with me.” But you know what? It doesn’t say that. Know what it does say? It says the following:

“Hi. I’m a seriously unhinged lunatic who will have the occasional lucid moment where I’ll lull you into a false sense of comfort that I’m a rational human being. The reality is, however, you are far more likely to wake up with me straddling you, crying, holding a knife to your throat, and screaming, DO YOU LOVE ME???? DO YOU???????? DADDY….WHY DIDN’T YOU LOVE ME????? WHY??????????”

You see, this quote is from Marilyn Monroe. The same Marilyn Monroe who not only was raised in a physically abusive atmosphere, but married a string of assholes and then fucking KILLED HERSELF. She was also famous for being wildly promiscuous, and not because she had some sort of voracious sexual appetite, but because she felt the need to constantly debase herself because she was filled with an overwhelming sense of self loathing. Now, while we can debate the tragedy of it all, let us not forget the paramount point here…she was a complete train wreck. To identify with her is to identify yourself as a likewise pile of twisted metal and smoke filled destruction, and a pretty good flag for healthy people to view you as a live grenade. It’s also a great way for the kind of narcissistic, self aggrandizing, abusive pricks Marilyn often engaged in relationships with to sniff you out and introduce themselves. Just so you know…

Also, I had the following encounter yesterday. As I was driving down the road after a trip to the grocery store, my trunk warning light came on, and it turned out I hadn’t completely shut my trunk. Not wanting potentially loose plastic grocery bags to fly out of my trunk, I pulled over to the right curbline of Shepherd Avenue, stopped my car, got out, and shut my trunk. Now, in this spot on the road, there is a designated bicycle lane…which I momentarily occupied with my car. Before I pulled over, I made sure there were no cyclists near by. After the fifteen total seconds I occupied the bike lane, and as I was reentering my car, a cyclist, apparently offended he had to make the risky maneuver of moving six feet to his left, felt the need to make the following comment as he rode by, “Really!!!???” Apparently, he was so mortified by my position in the road, he just couldn’t help himself. Now, Lance here (he was dressed up in the latest Tour de France style bicycle racing gear…i.e. spandex head to toe…and speaking of toe, probably a good case of man camel toe as well in those bun huggers he was wearing. C’est chic monsieur!) was no doubt deciding to take up the need all “serious cyclists” feel in educating the general public in traffic etiquette (if you’ve ever seen an episode of Portlandia, you know what I’m talking about). They think they’re being helpfully instructive and are creating greater societal good. But you know what they’re really being? A ginormous asshole. I mean, just like the Grand Canyon, it can be seen from space kind of asshole. And it’s not instructive. It’s just being a dick who is assuming you are the only decent human being in the world and this lunk headed car driver decided to park his car in the middle of a bike lane so he could jack off and smoke a menthol cigarette or something. Whatever. Point is, it never occurred to this living, locomotion capable douche bag, that perhaps there was a REASON why this guy pulled over, legally I might add, into the bike lane. What his comment did inspire , however, was a moment where I considered catching up to him and committing vehicular homicide…just so I could hear his head pop like a grape under my 3,500 lb vehicle, and have the joy of rinsing his blood off of my grill. But no, I didn’t do this and settled for this razor sharp come back statement instead: “Yeah…really!” Yeah, my wit knows no bounds. The kicker is Mr. Law and Order here made a right turn at the next intersection into the far left oncoming lane (illegal), and then proceeded to travel against traffic (also illegal). It would be funny if it wasn’t so tragically retarded. The lack of a sense of hypocrisy and self awareness that seems to be spreading across this country faster than an STD on a college campus is depressing, and will be the death knell of this country faster than any boneheaded economic policy we adopt. Wow. That was a lot of words to just say “people are dumb.” Thanks for indulging me.

OK, a confession...

...I am now mildly annoyed. Who am I annoyed with you may or may not be asking yourself? (I'm going with 'not asking yourself' by the way) I am annoyed with the idiots who monopolize one particular piece of gym equipment at the gym and are oblivious to the fact that others may like to use it as well. Sure, you can ask to 'work in' a set as they do their thing, but the idea that I have to ask permission to use a piece of equipment I am PAYING for is ridiculous. So, generally, what I'll do is go about my business on the other pieces of equipment until Mr. Healthy is done. Well, today, I was nearing the end of my circuit routine (about 35 minutes or so) and this dumb ass is STILL on the apparatus I want to use and finish with (it was a butterfly station). DUDE! It's ok to work more than one muscle group. I suggest you also work the one that allows you to be something other than an oblivious narcissistic asshole. I love these guys that come into the gym to work on particular body parts on particular days. Isnt that amazing? To be that self absorbed? Hell, to be that self conscious? "Well, today is eyelids, tomorrow is nipples, and then I'll be focusing on my pinky toe on Friday. Got to attack all these groups on their own. After all, it's not about being in good health. Oh no, no, no...it's about having sculpted eyelids (and nipples and toes)." What makes it even better is the fact that they're not continually working out. They'll work in a fifteen minute conversation with their gym buddy (who no doubt is in there on his day to work his kneecaps...because tomorrow is all about scrotum work), take about 135 water breaks (you can spot these jackasses as they enter the gym. They'll be carrying their own towel and a water jug the size of a beer keg), entertain one or two mobile phone calls, fiddle with their iPod, and frequently stare off into space apparently doing absolutely nothing at all (perhaps 'visualizing those perfect eyelids and nipples he's working on?). In fact, I think they even occasionally take a nap. Even though they spend 26 hours on one piece of gym equipment, they work in only about 12 minutes of actual exercise.
Obviously these guys love to hang around a bunch of heavily sweating men and dislike going home to their families. While this speaks volumes about them, it brings me no satisfaction knowing theyre a bunch of miserable people with repressed sexual longing they wont deal with. I just want to use the fucking butterfly station, you know?