Who among us hasn't thought about how cool it would be to live life as a murderous dictator giving no more thought to taking another person's life than we would to where to hang our latest portrait of our self in full military regalia. Unfortunately there is a downside to the lifestyle. If you are known for killing anyone that disagrees with you then what happens is people stop telling you things they know you won't like. And the end result is this...
Were it not for his murderous ways then certainly someone in Libya would have taken Mr. Gaddafi to the side and told him that he could not possibly look like more of a douche-bag. But unfortunately for him he has killed everyone that would have been honest with him and as a result he left the house looking like this.
In Libya: Terrifying Murderous Thug
In America: 70 year old, beret wearing boy band reject
Libya - 0, America - 1
So much of the time in life it is not what you say but the way in which you say it. As I have mentioned before, on occasion I get very angry. Usually as soon as I blow off steam I immediately calm down and re-think what I may have thought or said. It usually transpires like this. It usually begins with someone on a political show that says something I think is a complete lie. The following conversation runs through my head or sometimes I blurt it out loud in front of people. First the blow up - "You piece of crap I freaking hope you die." Then immediately comes the calm down - "But hopefully it's not too painful."
Which brings me to the main point of this post. I want to change and be a better person, BUT...I'm not sure I want to change that much. For instance, most of my adult life I have kept a running list in my head of people I want to outlive....Okay fine, it's a list of people I hope die. It is a dynamic list, people move on and off the list over time. And even though I have great hopes of being a better person I really don't want to let go of the list. I realized that the trick is to rename the list so it sounds less mean, judgmental and hateful and then it should be okay. So, I present to you:
"Living People Whose Graves I Hope to Visit One Day with a 40 ounce and a Bouquet."
. Ted Kennedy - (checking airfare right now)
. Nancy Pelosi
. Keith Olbermann
. Michael Moore
. Jimmy Carter
. Harry Reid
. Paul Miller
. Bill Maher
. Kanye West (just kidding, I wouldn't walk across the street to piss on his grave)
The brevity of this list just goes to show how tired I am tonight, normally the list of people I wish would die soon goes on and on and on...
.
As I've mentioned in past posts I have been trying to become a better person. I assumed that simply deciding to be a better person would pretty much make that a reality. Apparently that is not the case, it appears that there is a lot of effort and work involved in this process. Yeah ummmmm...work and effort...not really my strong suit. Sad but true I really thought that wanting to be a better person would go a long way to becoming a better person. As it turns out there are a lot of obstacles in my way....(shit, now I have "I Can See Clearly Now" stuck in my head). It would appear that human nature is a real bitch. Just like your computer has pages and settings it always goes to first, the default setting, we humans are the same. For me my default settings are anger and ridicule. First I yell at it and if that doesn't work I make fun of it. I think this is going to take longer than I thought.
I am officially a professional blogger. I'm assuming that once you have made money you immediately transition from being an amateur to being a professional. Today I made money from my blog and here is the proof:
Today's Earnings: 0.01
That's right baby, read it and weep. Money is rolling in from my blog and I am now a professional blogger. Hell, I am going to call my boss and tell him to kiss my ass first thing tomorrow morning. Sorry, I don't have anymore time for writing, I have to start shopping for my yacht.
Here is the single greatest example to show what is wrong with big companies. I found out about this in a meeting today. So look at this and learn about the pickle principle. Go ahead and check it out and then come back.
If you don't feel like checking it out then I will give you a quick rundown. This guy owned a restaurant. He got a letter from a customer who had ordered a meal and asked for an extra pickle. The waitress said she could sell him an order of pickles (they sell "orders" of pickles?). The customer only wanted one pickle so she offered to sell him one for a nickel. The customer left and wrote a letter to the owner letting him know why he would never return to his business. And from this was born "the pickle principle" and the motto "Give 'em the pickle".
There are so many, many things wrong with this I don't want any of them to get lost in the shuffle. For this reason I'm not even going to wonder how completely devoid of meaning someone’s life would have to be to sit down and write a letter because you were denied a second slice of pickle. But if I happened to meet the person that took the time to write that letter I would tell them this, “You know what tastes a lot like pickles...cyanide. Seriously, here try some.”
Anyways back to the jackass that created the pickle principle, which is the first problem. Technically it really wouldn't be a principle since a principle is "an accepted or professed rule of action or conduct". So it's not so much a principle as it is...well let's see.....basic flipping common sense. If the customer requests something that costs next to nothing and providing it will make for a happy customer then do it. Wow, you see what I did there? That’s a pretty simple concept almost to the point of being inane. But the gentleman that owned the restaurant didn’t think it was a simple or even obvious idea. Nope, he realized that his brain had crapped out some out and out genius thinking. In fact so much so that he decided to make it his company’s motto and thus was born, “Give ‘Em the Pickle.” Had he been content with that then I probably wouldn’t find him so detestable if for no other reason I most likely wouldn’t have ever been exposed to his stupid motto.
But the restaurant owner was not content with just sharing his wisdom with his employees. He decided that his idea was so important he should share it with others. He became a “motivational speaker” and has traveled the country spreading his wisdom and encouraging employees of other companies to “Give “Em the Pickle”. What we call a motivational speaker today 100 years ago was called a snake oil salesman. And just in case you are really young, a snake oil salesman was someone that traveled around selling various potions and elixirs to cure headaches and other ailments and generally what they sold was worthless. So, how are motivational speakers like snake oil salesmen? First off, they both charge an exorbitant fee for something of limited or no value. They both claim to have discovered something new that in fact was discovered ages ago. The both make use of the placebo effect meaning any good from what they are selling is usually all in your head.
I have to apologize because this subject got me so pissed off. You wouldn't believe the number of times I've had to go back and find a suitable replacement for the F word, which of course there really isn't. The reason this makes me so angry is because I am deep down to my soul a hardcore capitalist. I don't mind a baseball player making 10 million dollars a year because there are 1000s of people that will pay to see him play and 1000s more that will pay to wear a jersey with his name on it. He makes a ton of money but it is directly related to how hard it would be to find someone to replace him. I also have no problem with a doctor making $1,000,000 a year doing surgeries. But these motivational speakers piss me off because they are an example of what doesn't work with capitalism because they are generally paid very well and what they are selling is generally worthless.
Oops a few other issues, why is it "Give 'em the pickle ", why not:
award them the pickle
administer the pickle
furnish the pickle
slip them the pickle
bequeath them the pickle
provide them the pickle
fork over the pickle
And one last thing....his waitress said to the customer, "I'll sell you a second pickle slice for a nickel." Instead of selling his "Give "Em the Pickle" speech why didn't he go with, "How to Hire the Dumbest Dipshits Possible" speech?
Whew! After hearing the word pickle 50 freaking times today my anger has finally subsided. And just for the record it's entirely possible that I am completely wrong. Now I feel better. Pickle.
Every now and then some social pundit will warn about the latest thing that signals the decline of the American empire. A lot of times it is a new TV show or something a shock jock on the radio is doing or the scandalous subject of a new book. And when it happens, millions of people all over this country wonder, "Who is watching that crap, who is listening to that garbage and who is reading that trash?" So to all of those millions of people who are wondering I just wanted to say; Hi, yea that was me.
Here is a short list of the crap I have fed my brain through television, radio and books
Survivor
Temptation Island
The Jerky Boys
The Don and Mike Show
Howard Stern
Opie & Anthony
Kid Nation
Joe Millionaire
Rock of Love
America's Next Top Model
American Idol
Fear Factor
Wife Swap - I was really disappointed with that one
I'm a Celebrity Get Me Out of Here
Deadliest Catch
Nanny 911
Hoarders
Celebrity Boxing
When Animals Attack
Dr. Dirty
The Apprentice
Dog the Bounty Hunter
Bubba the Love Sponge
The Great American Roadtrip
Intervention
Celebrity Fit Club
Moment of Truth
Celebrity Rehab
Road Rules
More to Love
Real World
Supernanny
The Pickup Artist
Hell's Kitchen
Kitchen Nightmares
The Biggest Loser....which obviously from this list is ME.
I have a normal routine I go through on weekends. It usually starts about 5pm on Sunday when it dawns on me the weekend is pretty much over. I normally let out an audible moan/whine (imagine you've just told a 10 year old he can't stay up late...awwwww) when it hits me. I then go through the remainder of my weekend in a semi-pissed-off mood. By Monday morning my mood has improved slightly. Usually when the alarm goes off at 7am on Monday my first thought is about all the money I pissed away from age 20 to 24. Had I invested that money wisely I probably would have no use for an alarm clock today. Unfortunately I didn't invest it wisely opting instead to spend it on booze and women with low self-esteem. Some people would say I wasted it, those people would be wrong. Usually by 10am on Monday I'm back into my regular job and life and good to go.
However, this weekend I was not upset or sad that it was almost over. In fact I was amazed with the amount of stuff that was packed into one weekend. I had a good night on Friday, I spent most of Saturday watching college football. I went to the races with my friend Jen on Saturday night. I took the kid and her friend to the State Fair on Sunday. So my weekend was comprised of: beer, football, making fun of rednecks while being a redneck, corn dogs, football, mowing the lawn, church, carnival rides, lots and lots and lots of rednecks, deep-fried candy bars, roasted corn, blue-ribbon rabbits, chickens, carnie...carnys...how the hell do you spell people that work at the carnival? Anyways, it was an awesome freaking weekend. My life rocks.
Today I was thinking about all the things I miss about being married. Here's what I've come up with:
Sex
I'm sure there's more. In fact I am so sure that I have decided to take all day and sit on the couch and watch college football and work on completing the list. The last game on is Oregon State vs. UNLV which won't be over until 1:30am. That gives me 14 hours to finish the list. Wish me luck!
Alright first off, the "tool" I'm referencing is not me so get that thought out of your head. On Friday my daughter came and grabbed me, "Daddy, daddy come quick." My daughter is a bit of a drama queen. She has also learned that if she really wants my attention it never hurts to have that 'something expensive is being ruined as we speak!' urgency to her voice. This still gets my attention despite the fact that 99 times out of 100 the emergency is something really cute the hamster is doing that I just have to see, that or a toy commercial.
I followed my kid into the kitchen. "I think the cat caught a mouse," she said. There was a laundry basket with dirty clothes on the floor and the cat was frantically circling it. Now one thing you have to understand is that I am just not much of a man. I cry at sad movies and I am afraid of spiders, snakes...butterflies. I picked up the laundry basket and dumped it out and then I started picking the clothes up one at time. As I lifted up the third pair of pants I saw it...it was the biggest, scariest looking mouse I have ever had the misfortune to come across. The cat turned and bolted out of the room. My daughter screamed and so did I. Luckily the combination of both of our girlish screams frightened the mouse. The mouse opened it's mouth wide and actually growled at me its large fangs dripping with saliva. The mouse was ready to attack, I could actually see it's sinewy muscles tensing. I stomped on the floor and let out a banshee-like war-cry that frightened the mouse, it turned and ran into the sunroom. My daughter and I both gave chase and ended up cornering the monster behind the plasma TV.
We debated what to do. We thought about opening the sliding glass door and trying to scare the mouse in that direction. But I know from many experiences that scared animals never go in the direction you want them to. Finally the obvious solution hit me. My daughter kept the mouse cornered while I ran to the garage and grabbed the Shop-Vac. My daughter hit the on switch and I thrust the end of the hose at the beast. With a satisfying "THUNK" the Shop-Vac sucked up our tormentor. It occurred to me that people sometimes think I might be making things up. So, before I let it go I took a photo of the mouse in the Shop-Vac
I generally think of myself as at least moderately intelligent. Unfortunately every now and then a situation comes up that makes me realize that may not be the case. Tonight was one of those situations. I went out with a couple of female friends of mine to have some drinks. At one point during the night they were teasing me about being Catholic. One of the girls said, "He's Catholic so he can do whatever he wants he just has to go to confession afterwards." She was indicating that Catholics view confession as a get out of jail free card. I have heard this from a lot of my friends who have a problem with the Catholic sacrament of Confession. The all indicate the same reason for thinking Confession is not necessary and the reason is always given that they don't need to got through "a man" to confess their sins, they can go straight to God. Okay.
I can't believe I've missed what a lame argument they are making. If I understand this correctly it's easier for Catholics because all we have to do is tell our sins to a priest, be forgiven and we can do whatever we want. But my friends don't have to go through "a man" and they can go straight to God so wouldn't that be much easier than what Catholics have to do? For example, one of my female friends can meet a man in a bar, have sex, and as soon as it's over she can plug into her pipeline to God, tell him she's sorry in her mind and she is good to go. I'm not sure the Catholic way is easier, I mean we at least have to get in the freaking car and go to church. Then I have to say out loud what I have done and then I am forgiven and that is ONLY if I am truly sorry and ONLY if I really intend to not repeat the same sin again. I have a lot of thoughts in my head that I really don't care to give voice to. And I am almost certain that admitting my failings out loud to someone is not quite as easy as a quick "I'm Sorry God" in my head while enjoying a post-coitus cigarette. I don't know if any of us has a "Get out of Jail" Free card when it comes to sin, but I'm pretty sure it isn't Catholics.
So the VP of our division was in the office today and after he and our Regional manager left I still have a job...Awesome. They had a meeting with all the managers and each of the managers asked a question. It went like this...with growth slowing and being stagnant in some sectors how does the company, blah, blah, blah....what are we doing in regards to price concerns, blah, blah, blah.....how is our expense structure effecting our pricing with our main competition....and then me....So, is it still cool getting to fly around in the corporate jet or has the thrill kind of worn off? The best part was the answer, "The corporate jet is very well utilized there are people all over the company that hitch a ride as long as they can show a business need...and yes, it's still cool." Which is how it should be. When you are an executive you should be a complete professional at the office. You should also be singing and dancing in your underwear as you get dressed every morning. Once the thrill is over and you have stopped appreciating the good fortune that came along with your position then you don't deserve your position anymore. I am not saying that people get that job out of luck. I AM saying that in a company of 5000 employees you are an ASS if you think it's obvious that you were the most qualified out of everyone else. Some of it had to do with being in the right place at the right time and when you lose the appreciation for that then you need to GO. Anyway, I have even more respect for the executives in our company than I did before so that has got to be a good thing.
I have a meeting tomorrow morning with the Vice President of our divisions and all the managers in the office. My boss asked me if I would pick the VP up at the airport. I told him I would do whatever he asked me to but I said, "Don't you think it would be a good idea to minimize the amount of time I spend with someone that can fire you?" So...I don't have to go to the airport tomorrow.
Why do cats have to rub up against everything? Why is it that every freaking day my daughter's cat finds it necessary to walk between my legs making sure to rub up against each leg at least 10 times. And why is it that the cat normally decides that the perfect time to walk between my legs is when I am walking? Why is it that when I am ready for work and I'm wearing my clean and nicely pressed black pants it occurs to the cat that what would really accentuate my black pants is half of it's freaking fur. And lest you think I'm exaggerating, the cat's fur actually explodes off of it in little puffs of fur as the cat walks around the house. So it's not that I'm a bad pet owner, it's that I have a bad cat.
On a totally unrelated point I started going to church this year after taking a few decades off. I am doing my best to be a better person. There is one lesson that keeps coming up over and over and over again and it is this; love your neighbor as yourself. Love your neighbor as yourself. Love your neighbor as yourself. And everyday as I go about my life trying to be a better person, that thought runs through my mind. I tell God that I am totally on board and I'm going to do my best but maybe he could mention to my neighbors that it would help if they could stop acting like such assholes.
I've been helping my daughter with her 3rd grade science project. She has to collect 10 insects and build a little display case and label them, etc. The display case is not the hard part because if you want to find insects then all of a sudden they are scarce. The rest of the time they are happily biting your ass immediately the second you step outside. If you need the little bastards there are none to be found. I agreed to take Meghan to the field outside of the zoo because there is tall grass there so of course there should be plenty of insects to capture. We spent about 10 minutes and we caught a grasshopper and a moth. We have a month to get the project done so I told her that was enough for now. We left and pulled out of the zoo parking lot onto the street that is 5o mph. Out of the corner of my eye I saw something. I swerved onto the shoulder of the road and then threw it into reverse and backed up. There in the middle of the road was a caterpillar running like the star running back for USC.
Meghan asked what I was doing. I was hesitant to tell her because she is such a sensitive girl. I finally told her that there was a caterpillar in the middle of the road but I advised her that there was a lot of cars coming so the caterpillar might not make it. The first car flew by and the breeze sent the caterpillar rolling across the highway. After 8 or 10 revolutions the caterpillar stopped, regained it's bearings and again started charging to the side of the highway. The other 8 cars blew by. Each time the caterpillar somersaulted across the highway, stopped, gained traction and began it's journey again in earnest.
After the last car passed I stepped into the highway and scooped the caterpillar into a bag for my daughter. It was only a few moments after we had accelerated onto the highway when I found out that the caterpillar was NOT going to be part of the science project, now it was going to be part of the family. I hadn't hit 50 before it had a freaking name.
Within 10 minutes we were home and the caterpillar had leaves to eat, a couple of twigs to crawl on and a nice plastic jar to live in.
That night "Baby" went everywhere my daughter went. At one point she dropped the jar, for the third time as I recall. I picked up the jar and placed my ear to the lid. "Honey, he wants to know if we can put him back in the middle of the highway."
The next morning I had to leave for 3 days of meetings. After I explained to Meghan why I couldn't take "Baby" with me we decided to release her into the wild. Which meant dumping the plastic jar into the bush in front of the house. "Baby" is now free, so if you are flying down the highway at 75 mile an hour and you see a butterfly coming towards you, please swerve even if it means rolling over in the ditch, that could be "Baby" coming at you.
We've all heard the expression, "like a hamster in a hurricane." Okay, me neither but it should be an expression and here's why. Tonight the kiddo came to me complaining that she can't sleep because of her hamster. I went with her to check the situation out even though to be honest I could hear the noise in my room with both of our doors closed. I had a pretty good idea what the problem was. The hamster cage I bought for my kiddo has a giant wheel for them to run in. The wheel was full of hamster food so every time they ran, the food would go half-way up the wheel and then come crashing down. It was noisy and annoying but better then hamsters she has had in the past. In the past the hamsters would be chased by fully digested food. Okay, before it was crap, a big load of hamster crap. So as I said, food is better. The obvious solution was to clean the food out of the wheel. Only two problems, 1) One of the hamsters bites....a lot, 2) I really don't like to get bitten by hamsters and 3) damn if I can tell the difference between the two hamsters. I tried to coax the hamster out to no avail. I finally disconnected the wheel and took the wheel with the hamster inside out the garage. I fired up the Shop-Vac and stuck it over the mouth leading into the big hole the hamsters use to get into and out of the wheel.
The hamster continued to walk around the wheel until he got to one of the openings leading to the center of the wheel and then he would stretch out his arms and legs and all of his fur would be laid flat by the air pressue from the vacuum. For fun I would slap the bottom of the wheel to try and make him lose his grip. In case you have ever wondered, hamsters have a pretty good grip when they are trying to avoid being sucked into the Shop-Vac of death. I got the wheel all cleaned out after 5 minutes and the hamster although it seemed tired didn't seem any worse for the wear. Which gives me an idea because I am so tired of cleaning cat hair off all my clothes....
I had a blog before this on myspace. I set a record for the number of uses of the F-Word, I also rang the bell on the anger meter. So, now I am trying to be a better person. My biggest fear about becoming Churchy Churchington was that I would become boring. There are a lot of things I can accept. Being boring is not on that list. I am trying my best to be a good Christian and a good person. But being boring and predicatable I just can't stomache, so....we'll see I guess.
