Narishkeit

Call me what you will, but every time I see foreign currency I can’t help but think of it being Monopoly money. It is hard to take it seriously, especially those wacky Canadians and their looneys and tooneys.

A pocketful of those and you’ll weigh an additional 18 pounds beyond your standard weight.

If there was any doubt that I was cranky it was erased by a trip to Target. I was the second person in line, the ten items or less line. A simple concept, the ten items or less line.

It was created to help speed the checkout process. It was created so that people who wanted to just run in to pick up a couple of items could do so. It is an incentive that says you don’t have to wait to shop until you have a huge laundry list of items.

Today I only had three items to pick up, but after having undergone a day in which it felt I had survived the 12 Tasks of Hercules I was not inclined to wait long. I didn’t have it in me. But as there was only one person in front of me I wasn’t too concerned, until I saw her cart.

Call me cranky, call me anal, call me what you will but I knew with a glance that she had 11 items in her cart. Eleven freaking items, not 10, but 11 and if you counted the 12 pack of Pepsi it was so far over the limit to be ridiculous.

I was almost apoplectic, but I managed to take a deep breath and reel myself back in. It really wasn’t worth getting upset about nor did it require spitting blood and breathing fire. Those were things for earlier in the day, but is a story for a different time.

In a galaxy far, far away from this one I have been engaged in a pissing contest with a number of different people. We have gone back and forth about this and that and more than likely haven’t managed to convince anyone of anything.

My position on the initial matter remains unchanged and I suspect that those that have read some of my comments feel the same way. Some of the banter has been especially colorful and I received a note from someone who claims to be familiar with my blog but was shocked by a comment that I left.

I am not a shy guy, well I am, but that is a different sort of shy. But I thought that I’d share the silly and juvenile remark that they found so shocking right here. If you are easily offended then go and grab a shot of whiskey and then come back. Or skip the next block quote because there is going to be more posted here.

Dear XX,
If you pulled that hot poker out of your oversized ass and dropped the remote control from that fat cheeto covered paw of yours you might actually have a chance of making a point.

But that is about as likely as your ignoring the siren song of stale store bought donuts you left on the kitchen counter you pathetic maggot.

I guess when you father crapped you out he managed to rid himself of some genetic waste.

Go rub some salt up your ass and suck on a rock. And for what it is worth it is considered bad form to rely on Google for insults you silly bastard.

As they say, eat shit and live. And to all my other fans, go fuck yourselves with the nearest kitchen utensil you can find. You are in dire need of a serious orgasm.

Hugs and kisses from someone who doesn’t understand satire.

-Jack

And there you have an example of the finer part of the blogosphere. It is the seamy underside that is filled with nasty comments and bitter remarks that more than likely would not be shared in person because most people are just unwilling to really say things like this out loud.

I on the other hand don’t always take life so seriously and am more than happy to swear like a sailor. Although I should give credit to one of my grandfathers for showing me that there are people who can swear for 17 minutes straight without taking a breath and more importantly without repeating themselves. I suppose that between his time in the army and time as a carnie he picked up a few things.

Does this dentist need attention so badly that she would issue this press release.

I was almost struck dumb when I saw this. It is another reminder that dressing like your dog is not always a good idea, but dressing like your dog and uploading the picture to the net is a really BAD idea.

Found on Random Numbers

As usual The Shmata Queen’s questionable taste has led to a disagreement about the value of The Sound of Music in the modern world. In short I think that if film could be used in a similar fashion to newspaper there would be great value in wrapping fish in The Sound of Music or constructing hats out of said material.

Certainly it would make a great liner for a bird cage or do quite well as a tool to help housebreak a dog. Zookeepers would find it to be useful in cleaning up after the rhinos, hippos and elephants and mechanics would be pleased to wipe the grease off of their hands onto their Sound of Music film paper.

Sadly there is no such way to use it and the world is a lesser place. It is Mary Poppins without the pop and I would be happy to have seen the Von Trapps get trapped in a small room without windows than to have been forced to listen to such warbling and yodeling.

Blame this distaste for the movie upon my three younger sisters who used this movie the way some people require kleenex or toilet paper. Feh, phooey and blech to this drek.