This site not intended to be helpful, nor does it only contain many valuable hints. I'm just a fan of irony, sarcasm and alliteration (and myself apparently).
This is where most of my day-to-day blogging will be (if you scroll down a bit my latest post will always be there).
Everything on this site is owned and copyrighted by me. Feel free to link to my site or refer friends to my site, but if you copy from my site I will hunt you down and kill you.
So here’s the thing. If you believe that half of our country voted for hate then you are marginalizing them the way that you believe they are marginalizing others. Now, I’m not saying that a good swath of the country didn’t vote for hate, but I have to believe that many did not.
BUT HOW CAN THAT BE? HOW CAN ANYONE VOTE FOR SOMEONE WHO IS SO CLEARLY A SEXIST, RACIST, HOMOPHOBIC PRICK AND NOT BE ONE THEMSELVES???????
Well, lots of people are one issue voters. (“If candidate x can ensure jobs for me and my family, then I will vote for that one.” “If candidate y will raise my taxes then I won’t vote for that one.”) Many times those issues are divisive ones like gun rights, abortion, etc. And unfortunately sometimes those issues are indeed based on hate, but I have to believe that this is not and was not the main reasons people voted the way that they did because believing the opposite is just so unthinkable.
The average IQ is around 95. If you don’t know anything about the IQ scale, this is not very smart. A good chunk of the population isn’t capable of critical thinking or advanced cognitive reasoning. It’s not that they are ignorant (though there’s a large chunk of those as well). They just were not born with this ability. And for a lot of people it’s incredibly hard to grasp ideas and issues outside of their small, contained life, so they only vote for the things that directly affect them (money, jobs) or that they think will directly affect them (“I’ve never met a Muslim person, but from what I’ve seen they are all terrorists trying to destroy our country.”) Unfortunately, racism isn’t just a matter of ignorance. It’s also a matter of intelligence.
Anyway, I’ve gone off on a tangent. The point is that people of average intelligence have a hard time seeing past their own personal experiences and a hard time recognizing issues that don’t directly affect them, so they tend to be one-issue voters. (Note here: I’m not saying that all one-issue voters are stupid. I’m just saying that most people of low intellect are one-issue voters. And unfortunately having a 2-party system BREEDS some very smart one-issue voters who may weigh each issue carefully, but are forced to make consolations). Regardless, if you are reading this, you are likely much smarter than the average person because people of similar intellect tend to group together – maybe even more so than people of similar socio-economic status.
I did not vote for either major party candidate. Yes, I’m one of those horrible third party voters who fucked up everything (not really, my state went the way it was supposed to go and would have regardless of my vote). I did vote for an imbecile and it was not out of defiance. It was because I believe in that party’s values and I think we need a political system that’s not so binary and resigning to the fact that things will not change and that one person or one small group of people cannot make a difference is diametrically opposed to the values that our country was built on, so fuck all of you whiners who say I wasted a vote or that my vote was “selfish”.
I also had huge issue with both major party candidates. I’m not going to get into what those issues were. I think they are obvious for one candidate, but not so obvious for the other (and if you were to hazard a guess, you would most likely be wrong because the issues I had were pretty much overlooked by everyone, including lots of very smart people).
But I guess the point to all of this is that fighting hate (or perceived hate, as I do not believe that everyone who voted a certain way did so out of hate) with hate will not work. People who are racist or sexist or any other type of “ist” will not be swayed by attacks and name-calling and angry “my belief is right and yours is wrong” rhetoric. In fact, this tactic will likely make them more “ist” than they were before.
You do, however, have every right to be angry. Be angry. A horrible human being is going to be president. Scream, yell and cry. But anger in and of itself is not going to help and neither is fear. Yoda was right. Fear really does lead to anger and anger really does lead to hate and hate leads to nothing good. Be brave. Stand up for the things you believe in, but do so with compassion. Like it or not, not every belief that you have is right and not every opposing belief to yours is wrong nor born out of hate. There are some truly awful and hateful people with hateful beliefs out there, but I have to believe that they are not the norm and fighting them will not sway their opinions nor change who they are, so focus on the things and the people that can change by being the change that you want to see. Yes it’s cliché, and everyone will say that they believe in that truism but the irony is that most people don’t actually live it (myself included, 'cause if you know me and many of you may then you know that I am not an "ist" only because I hate everyone fairly equally... which I guess would therefore make me an anti-humanist).
Nobody is ever on time any more
Like never. What the fuck is wrong with people?
So, I quit my job a few weeks ago (another story meant for a different day, preferably one where my urge to write DIE, MOTHERFUCKER, DIE! over and over again on an effigy of my ex-boss has abated somewhat).
Anyway, I’ve had half a dozen phone interviews in the past couple of weeks and not one of them has called me when s/he said s/he was going to call me. Not one. At least once this meant sitting around for over an hour and for whatever reason, when I’m waiting for a phone call, I’m incapable of doing anything else for fear of missing the call, even though I realize that the whole purpose of mobile phones is that you can carry them around to wherever you want to go. I just don’t want to be sitting on the can or caught with a giant mouthful of food or in the middle of using power tools or standing in the checkout line at Target or on that 5th glass of scotch when the call comes in. (OK, so I don’t use power tools but everything else is completely plausible.)
Yesterday, I was tasked with the calling bit. The call was scheduled for 2PM. I called at... fucking 2PM because that's when I was told to call. And what did I get? I got routed straight to motherfucking voicemail. And it wasn’t even a personalized voicemail and this is the founder and CEO of the company. I’ve never been a CEO but I feel like were that ever to occur, I’d probably personalize my voicemail, even if it was just, “Hello! You’ve reached the goddammed CEO of this motherfucker. I’m away doing important CEO shit, so leave a message, bee-yotch!” (Actually if I’m ever CEO of something, that’ll totally be my voicemail message. You heard it here first, folks!)
And this isn’t just a recent trend. It has gotten so bad that, when I was still employed, I would purposefully head to a meeting 5 minutes late because I KNEW nobody would be there on time. I hated myself for this, but the alternative would be sitting around by myself in a conference room wasting time with my dick in my hand (figuratively of course, since I don’t actually have a penis, in case you were wondering).
To add insult to injury on the day my ex-boss decided to demote me for no fucking reason - note here that he will maintain that it was technically not a demotion, but I will then maintain that he is a lying piece of shit who should be shot in the face – he was 15 minutes late for the meeting. HE DIDN’T EVEN HAVE THE DECENCY TO BE ON TIME FOR THE 1-ON-1 MEETING THAT HE FUCKING SCHEDULED TO TELL ME HE WAS MAKING A DECISION TO SINGLE-HANDEDLY DESTROY MY CAREER. In fact, he was never on time for any meeting. Never. But then again, nobody is anymore, so I guess I can’t hate him for that….
Well, actually yes I can. I totally can. And I can also hate him for being a raging douchelord. Actually I can hate him for just existing. Breathing air. Walking on the same planet as me. Being born. Looking the way he does. Talking. Eating a fucking sandwich like that. Drinking goddammed water. That motherfucker. If only he'd stop drinking water maybe he'd fucking die! DIE, MOTHERFUCKER, DIE!!!!!
..but I digress....
Anyway, which is ruder: 1) having to cut people off and schedule a follow-up so you can be on time for your next meeting or 2) rolling in 15+ minutes late to a meeting with the excuse that your last meeting ran late, thus causing that meeting to run late and every meeting thereafter? Number 2, right? Then why the fuck does everybody choose this course of action? Because they’re assholes. We’ve become a society of inconsiderate assholes.
But this can stop here and now, people! Stop being assholes. Get your happy asses to meetings on time. And if you start getting to meetings on time, maybe everyone else will start doing it and then maybe one day your grandkids won't know what it's like to live in a world full of selfish, inconsiderate late-for-everything assholes and you can feel good about your contributions. Maybe the world will still be in shambles. Maybe the polar ice caps will be melted and maybe the terrorists will have won, but at least when you're waiting around for the world to end, you'll have the comfort of knowing it'll be on time.
Memorial Day, May 25, 2015
My brother didn't die in combat, but I consider him a casualty of war. Perhaps I shouldn't, but I do. Jamie was adopted into our family from the Philippines at 14. He had spent his entire life to that point in an orphanage. He had trouble adjusting to our family and life in the US. I remember the stories vaguely, but what I remember most is the laughter. It didn't really matter what was going on, Jamie could always make you laugh and unlike my sense of humor, his felt like he was giving you a gift. It's hard to explain, but even during his last days in hospice, he always had a joke and a smile for everyone he walked by and the nurses and the staff obviously adored him, as most people who came to know him would.
When my brother graduated form high school, my parents encouraged him to join the Army. My father and several of my other brothers were veterans. At that point, we were in a long stretch of relative peace where many joined the military to get some experience and perhaps funding for college without really thinking about the prospect of "war".
But then, Desert Storm happened and my brother happened to be in one of the units that was first in and last out. Even though the war itself was brief, with very few US casualties, seeing this kind of violent death for the first time really affected Jamie. I remember him briefly talking about it one night when we were having some sort of deep conversation about life. I was in college. My life had barely begun. But I could tell by the far away look in his eyes that he had lived so much in that short time.
Jamie would go on to serve in Somalia (he never talked about this; in fact I never knew about it until after his death) and then he eventually got out of the Army and settled down in Georgia.
Even though he left the Army, the Army never left him. We always knew that he sometimes drank too much, and I guess in the backs of our minds my family knew he was an alcoholic. Unfortunately we are not strangers to addiction. But Jamie was a functioning alcoholic. He could always hold down a job and support his family (which is a whole other story for a different day) and so I guess we became complacent about it because we had worse addictions to deal with in our family, or so we thought.
None of us knew how bad things were until it was too late. In July of 2012, my mom got a frantic call. Jamie was in the emergency room in critical condition. Liver failure. How had it gotten to this point without any of us knowing? He made it through that night, but the doctors gave him somewhere between a couple weeks to a year to live. Even though the prognosis was bleak, it just seemed impossible to me. And denial quickly swept in. If he could make it 6 months, maybe he could get on a transplant list and then maybe we could all fix the things that were so obviously broken and start over again.
But we couldn't.
We lost Jamie less than 2 months later. Father, son, brother, soldier.
If you’re standing next to me at the grocery checkout line I’m judging you based on what you’re buying. No exceptions. Doesn’t matter what I’m buying. Whatever you’re buying always somehow makes you inferior to me. If it’s a self-check-out line, I’m also judging your intelligence based on how long it takes you to figure out how to find the produce code for the cucumber you are no doubt going to be shoving in your ass later.
Costco is an especially good place for this because shit purchases are one thing, but shit purchases in bulk make for some majorly awesome judgy-ness . The shit people buy at Costco is fucking horrifying. Eight quadruple packs of Wonder bread and a gallon jug of mayonnaise? Why not just pour sugar and lard down your gullet instead?
Regardless, I was at SuuuuuuperTarget yesterday picking up a few items (tomatoes, an avocado, some Amy’s frozen things and tampons if you’re curious and want to judge) and so I’m standing there minding my own business quietly judging the guy in front of me who apparently had a checkout belt phobia because he was cradling all his shit (vitamin C drops, a fancy pink mother’s day card, and Fiber Choice pills) like it was a fragile infant and passing each item to the cashier one-by-one so it wouldn’t touch the tainted belt. And as I’m sizing the guy up (35ish year old, uptight constipated germaphobe who probably lives in his mom's basement), bam! a “family sized” bag of Fritos gets tossed onto the belt (like literally heaved) behind my (far superior) purchases, followed by bam! bam! bam! bam! bam! bam! bam! bam! bam! - 9 more bags. Fucking ten giant bags of Fritos! TEN! Now let me stop right here and say I love me some Fritos. Love. Them. Those BBQ Frito twists are like motherfucking crack. I could eat Fritos all day every day but I don’t for (what should be) obvious reasons….
So naturally I then turn to look at the person who is clearly living my dream to find a whole lotta
woman wearing a whole lotta animal print with what I call a Lego hair
– you know, hair that looks it was snapped on like a helmet via a round
connector at the top of your head - a "hair helmet" if you will...
After the Fritos came industrial-sized cans of refried beans (a size that I didn’t know existed, especially at Target, though I guess I don’t peruse the refried bean section that often), paper plates, and plastic spoons.
Well at this point the rusty gears in my head are turning.
Is she making a shitload of some sort of Frito/refried bean casserole? The Frito-to-bean
ratio seemed off to me. Was she planning
a party to serve this casserole? Or was she just too lazy to do dishes? How efficient is it to eat Fritos with a
plastic spoon? Or maybe the spoons were to eat the beans out of the cans, but
then what were the plates for? My curiosity was so piqued at this point that
the words, “What the hell are you gonna do with all those fucking Fritos???” started forming in my head until my hatred for
people and conversations with strangers kicked into gear.
Now I realize that she probably had other stuff at home to compliment her purchases… and who doesn’t have a bunch of things already on hand that could go with vats of Fritos and refried beans, right? But then my mind takes a horrific turn and goes to this: Frito bath.
GodDAMMIT! Why did my mind have to go there??? Now I have
this picture in my head of this woman crawling into a bathtub full of Fritos
and the spooning refried beans from the can into her cakehole (still no idea
about the plates, though….).Awesome. Now I'm going to have nightmares... and perhaps now you will too!
Anyway, the point of all this is that I’m judging you, whoever you are, at the grocery store.
Case of bottled water? Environment hater.
Lots of frozen dinners? Lonely loser.
Case of Ramen Noodles? Poor lonely loser.
Sugared cereals? Horrible parent.
Lots of Greek yogurt? Douchebag.
Tofu and Asian pears? Huge douchebag
And the list goes on… and then when I’m done judging you for what you’re buying I’m judging you for how you look.
I guess the moral of this story is to do all your shopping online…. Though I guess the order fulfiller will also be judging you.
So I guess the moral of this story is that I’m a horribly judgmental person… but really. Admit it. You are too, aren’t you?
I knew it!
Fucking judgy mcjudgerton asshole….
On my generally soul-sucking commute to work this morning, a Tesla S blew by me like I was standing still only to be slamming on his brakes 10 feet later because, you know, there are lots of other cars at 8AM on a Thursday morning in a city whose claim to fame (among many others) is having the worst traffic on the face of planet. Note here that traffic was moving at about 70 MPH, which was slower than my liking as well, but what can you do?
Apparently if you own a Tesla S, you can use exit lanes to pass people and pretend like all the other cars on the road are part of your giant slalom course.
Well this got me thinking... who are the biggest assholes on
the road? It’s sort of a tossup between
people who drive performance cars and people who drive hybrids (and I can say
this because I drive one of these types of cars). So it seems that these two
types of people mated to create the king of all asshole drivers: the
performance electric car driver. I mean really, what does owning a Tesla S say
about a person?
It says he (or she) is a speed-crazy prick AND a holier than thou tree-hugging douchebag.
Obviously this revelation prompted me to look up prices on the Tesla S as soon as I got to work with the intent to possibly purchase one. Well apparently they’re not insanely expensive. I mean, they’re pricey, but not like Maserati or Ferrari pricey (which explains why the dude seemed to not care about almost driving right into me to get back into my lane when his lane came to a screeching halt and mine was still moving (slowly)). And as I sat there contemplating a purchase, I realized that it didn’t have a gearbox and thus no stick shift. Now I realize that it’s not necessary in electric cars for optimal performance, but I just like being able to angrily jam a car into a gear and stomping on the gas and hearing the rev of the engine….
Anyway, the other thing is that I’ve never had a laptop or phone or electronic doohickey with a battery that’s lasted anywhere near as long as its claim. I also suck at remembering to recharge shit, so I’d have this nightmare of being constantly stuck in the middle of the highway with a dead battery… or even worse: stuck at work <shudder>.
So I’ll not be purchasing this car anytime soon, but if anyone out wants to give me one I would graciously accept.
At some point in my recent life I fancied myself a runner. These days I kinda sorta run. Sometimes. At a pace many might not consider really “running”.
Anyway, yesterday was one of those infrequent occurrences when I decided to run. This is a big deal because travel tends to make my running an even less frequent occurrence, even though I always go through the motions of packing up my running gear with lofty ideas of actually using it that rarely come to fruition. Recently, running shoes have made great underwear and sock holders for consolidated packing, but that’s pretty much it. Too bad sports bras don’t make fashionable hats…
But because I used to be a runner I knew that yesterday was the Boston Marathon – a race that has always been my white whale because I just haven’t had the dedication to train well enough to qualify for it. But, somewhere in the back of most runners’ minds is the goal to one day qualify for and then run Boston, regardless of how realistic it actually is. (There are a few bullshit ways for contemptible bastards to get into Boston without actually qualifying, but that’s a different discussion for a different day.)
And so, as thousands of runners were lining up in Boston with the sole purpose of running 26.2 miles, I woke up to a cool, cloudy New York City spring morning - after a late night of too much food, sloth and wine - resolved to put my running gear to use and go for a run at exactly 10AM – the start of the elite men and wave 1 runners.
I couldn’t have asked for better weather or a better location to run and as I was cruising* around the Jackie O reservoir I wondered to myself why I didn’t do this more often….ummm, because you have become a lazy-ass fuck.
I managed to eek out just over 5 miles (not quite 26.2 but super super close in the land of delusion), before heading back to my hotel on the edge of the park to start thinking about how to spend the rest of the day.
As it turns out, me and my friend R ended up eating a leisurely lunch and then tooling around the park until making a spur of the moment decision to go see the Hayden Planetarium show. All I’m going to say about this decision is that it was the best $25 nap I’ve ever taken. There was just something about the moving stars and Whoopie Goldberg’s soothing voice that just lulls one into a very restful and peaceful sleep.
Little did I know that while I was taking my expensive (but totally worth it) nap, there was some horrible fucking shit going on in Boston.
Now, I write a lot about how much people suck and even though I generally say this in jest, we actually really do. We have the potential to be a super horrible species – terrible beyond words - and it’s not just a select few of us. Every single one of us has this evil lurking inside. Some of us are good at quashing it, others notsomuch.
But we also have the potential to be so incredibly awesome. It’s a shame that it often takes horrific tragedy to bring it out. It’s almost as if we need to have a common enemy to work together and act selflessly. And I don’t know whether the beauty of the selfless acts outshines the ugly fact that it takes pain and bloodshed and tragedy to bring them out. I tend to think that it does not, unfortunately.
And now as I come to the end of what I have to say, I don’t know where I was really going with any of this (which is clearly nothing new).
I guess my point is that I found my inner runner again yesterday, which is really to say that I found my inner humanity and I’m guessing that perhaps some of you did too. And I really hope it doesn’t take another act of inhuman atrocity for us to find it again.
*the use of the word ”cruising” may be a bit of an exaggeration
Do you remember what your Myers-Briggs personality type is? You must have had to take this test at least once – perhaps in school or maybe because you worked for some dipshit company that decided they could more effectively manage your ass based on your shitty personality.
If you’re unfamiliar with this test, I’m not going to
explain it to you in detail. Fire up the Google machine and do your own fucking research. Contrary to what my blog name would seem to indicate, I’m not really here to be helpful - just ironic, bitchy and marginally entertaining.... but in a nutshell, back in the day a psychologist named Carl Jung came up with some psycho-babble-type theories about how we as humans experience our shitty existence. Then two chickies (Myers and Briggs) took Jung's theories and created a test that was supposed to determine each person's personality type and they broke this down into 4 pairs of traits: Extrovert/Introvert, Sensing/iNtuiting, Thinking/Feeling and Judging/Perceiving. Their theory is that everyone is more strongly one or the other of each of these trait pairs, so then they break people into 16 categories based on these traits. If you don't understand why there are 16 categories, you are a math idgit and I can't help you there.
Regardless, you can take a test which will spit out the four letters indicating your personality type. For example, I'm an INTJ (Introvert, iNtuiting, Thinking, Judging) . I'll get into what that means in a second, but just based on those words you can probably see that my test results would seem to indicate a lack of warm and fuzziness in my personality. Clearly you can tell, based on this blog, that that is 100% incorrect. I'm the epitome of warm and fuzzy, dammit! If I could hug every single one of you, I totally would - and not one of those lame one-armed bro-hugs. No sir! In fact, I'd be gettin' all handsy trying to cop a feel!
So, in order to take a "reputable" version of the test you generally have to front up some cash to do so. However, there are tons of free ones floating around the interwebz (like this one) but most people will say they are BS, though most people don't know what the fuck they are talking about, so there's that...
Anyway, the point of all of this is just for me to say that to me, these personality types are really just a tiny, microscopic step above a horoscopic profile. And in my case both are similarly accurate in describing my personality, probably yours as well.
And really, the thing is that some people’s personalities just
suck. Plain and simple. I mean if you
really think about it most of us have shitty personalities. But both the
Myers-Briggs and horoscope profiles tend to make everyone seem like a fucking
prince. I mean sure they mention some less-than desirable traits, but they spin
them as good things.
Case-in-Point, a dude named David Keirsey took all these personality profiles and assigned roles (names) to them, which makes them seem even more horoscopic (and thusly, hokey as fuck). Below is a graphic from Personality Desk depicting them:
Ooooooooo doesn't it make everyone sound fabulous? Congratulations, you are "The Dynamo"! How fucking great is that? It's so much better and more scientific than being a Capricorn or a Dragon, isn't it? Of course it is! And so much more meaningful! And look at all the other personality types? Aren't they wonderful? You're awesome. I'm awesome. We're all fucking awesome!
Well as I've said before, we're not all awesome. In fact we are all mostly the antithesis of awesome. Don't hate. You know it's true. So after doing an extensive amount of research (we're talking several minutes here), I've come up with my own, much more accurate personality profile names.
Ah, so now you see it, don't you? Now it all makes sense. Now you see your true colors for what they really are, eh? You're welcome. Maybe I really AM providing helpful hints after all!
Anyhoooo, if you've taken the test and know your fo shizzle personality type, you might also be wondering how common yours is. I've made a super cool Excel graph depicting the personality type distributions (numbers courtesy of The Myers & Briggs Foundation - I figure they're probably one of the more reputable sources, other than me of course, being that they took the time to pay $10 bucks to GoDaddy.com* for that web address).
Note that just because your personality type is common or uncommon doesn't prove you are any more or less of an asshole than the next guy... well, unless you're MFing Hitler. In that case it's probably safe to assume that you are a ginormous asshole.
*Disclaimer: technically the bit about GoDaddy.com is probably not true.