Something Swift this way comes…

For Chrissakes, Edward….who do you think you’re fooling, and why are you trying to hide it?

It’s been discussed for months. It’s not something you can hide. We all know that Dave’s back. We all know your 15 year old brat son is playin bass. We all know it. Dave’s been spotted at your HOUSE for fuck’s sake….and your former lead singer, the one you just FIRED (again) is saying that he’s back. Just come out with it already and say “yeah, we’re doing it”. And you think that by adding ‘drama’ to your already written “guiding light” bullshit career by NOT telling us is HELPING you? Get over yourself. We all know. You holdin out on us isn’t goingn to make us buy any more or any less tickets. We’re all sheep who will most likely be there just to drool and say we were part of history, just like we did in 2004 (and for me, in 1995 twice, 1998, and 2004). Shut up and announce it already. The drama’s not helping.

Report: Live Nation to sign Roth-led Van Halen for tour

VAN HALEN REUNION TOUR TO KICK OFF IN LAS VEGAS:

Rolling Stone: EXCLUSIVE DETAILS Van Halen Plot Reunion!

So how’s about stoppin the bullshit and just sayin it?

Please note, right off the bat, that I have no malice or hatred towards any physically or mentally challenged people. I think those with a legitimate reason to act certain ways are to be embraced like any fine, upstanding member of society is. It’s the OTHER half of these people, the ones with NO genuine reason for acting like a total blooming idiot that make me write this. The writing is, of course, based on real events, but totally phosecious (Spelling, anybody?) Today, class, I’d like to examine the use of the word “Retard”. By definition, it signifies someone of sufficient mental handicap, but see, the word itself was ‘retired’ a long time ago, in favor of the terms “mentally challenged” and “mentally handicapped”. I’d like to bring the word “Retard” out of moratorium, and re-issue it with a new definition. Re-Write the word, re-define it, change it altogether, and even make Webster’s and Roget’s change all the new dictionaries. Yes, I do believe it’s time that the word was once again given a reason to be used, and that reason is no more than three or four steps away from it in those very same dictionaries. The REASON…is “Retail”. You know, everyone in any job OTHER than retail looks down their noses at those of us who work in retail. Well, I’m not ashamed of it. I’ve done it a lot of years. My brother and his wife are very successful in the field (more so than me, as it happens). And my wife did it for a lot of years, enough years to know that she never wants to do it again, but still garnering enough experience not to look upon me with the “snooty nose”. You see, there are ditch diggers, mechanics, bricklayers, high-beam construction workers, and those are, indeed, all dirty jobs, but nothing is worse than retail. And we don’t even have to break a sweat at it sometimes. And what makes this job so bad? Retards. Ah…see…you like that don’t ya? See how I made that come full circle like that? I so smawt… No seriously. I’d like to write the definition of the word when they reinstate it. The jersey of “retard’’ is hanging high in an arena somewhere, probably lopsided and wrinkled, but I truly believe that those of us in the retail profession should be granted exclusive rights to the use of the word. And it has NOTHING to do with physical or mental handicap, so don’t go sending me the metric ton of emails screaming about it. Here’s how the word would be defined. Retard. re•tard (ri-tahrd, ree-tahrd, wee-todd, or ‘re-tawd” in the south). A person who, in normal environments, possesses great intelligence, common sense, and sensibility, but upon entering a retail establishment and /or encountering a retail worker, said intelligence, common sense, and sensibility fall to a level below which conventional methods of measuring intelligence cannot define. I know, I know, that’s longwinded, but hear me out, I’m going somewhere with this! Let’s look at a few examples, and you’ll get my point. And to emphasize the point, I’ve PERSONALLY experienced all of these in the last seven days. It just took several good “sauerkraut sessions” to come up with the mere words to describe them. Self Serve! It’s no secret what I do for a living. And there’s some methods in place intended to make my job easier. Such is the INTENT of the “self-serve-photocopier”. Now, if you think remotely for anything less than three seconds, the concept of “self-serve” is easily grasped. You go to the machine, read the simple instructions posted on EVERY MACHINE, put the documents you want copied into the feeder, touch how many you want, and press start. When it’s done, you take the sheet that says “I made 24 copies” and you take it to the register, you pay, and you leave. Well….that’s why it’s a CONCEPT. Concepts don’t always work when put into reality. And this one, as you’d expect (or there’d be no point to this paragraph) is no different. This is how it, invariably, time after time, goes down. You walk up to the machine, read the directions, look at the copies in your hand, read the directions again, scratch your head, look at the copies again, lift the cover on the machine, touch a button, jump back startled when the screen lights up, scratch your ass, and YELL across the store “HEY…HOW DO YOU WORK THIS HERE THANG?” You see, to me, at that very point…right there…that moment in time, when the curled, malformed version of the word “thing” comes out of your mouth, the concept of “self serve” is thus abolished, and we’re now going to take it to the machines BEHIND the counter, do the job ten times as fast, on better paper, and charge you two cents more a copy. But…apparently that’s just ME. Nobody else apparently thinks that way. Usually, what we have to do is show you how it’s done, enough times to a) complete half your job for you and b) royally piss off the customers who are paying for full service and waiting. New Rule: If you ask for help with a self serve machine, it becomes full-serve. Occupying the employee’s time costs extra. My time is valuable. It’s worth at LEAST nine cents a copy. Your time is only worth seven cents a copy, hence the purpose of SELF SERVE. Those unable to comprehend this are the basis of my newly formed definition of “retard”. Can I Keep Them? Since we’re on the subject of self serve copies…allow me to share with you the experience I have, several times a week, most recently, yesterday! As noted in the previous paragraph, upon completion of a self serve job, the machine prints a summary report of all the copies you’ve made. It’s a machine, and as such, it’s the only thing in the building with less intelligence than you! It can’t decipher if you’ve screwed up a copy or not. It just knows “hey, paper went across that sensor, that’s a click…seven cents please!” I understand that mistakes happen. If you come find me and say “I made 200 copies, two of them messed up, do I have to pay for them?” Chances are I’m going to smile and say “no ma’am” and change the number on the page to 198, and initial it, and wish you a happy day, on your way…get lost. But, such is the tone of this writing, that you KNOW that’s not how it’s going to go, now is it? No. Sadly. No. The situation the other day was this. I had a customer come up to me and say “over half of these are wrong; your machine screwed them up”. Well, ma’am, those pages are blank, that’s usually caused because you put the paper on the wrong side of the glass. Did you put them where the arrow points to? Of course you didn’t. People like you are the reason I’d love to put a sign up that says “you are responsible for all documents replicated on this machine, correct or otherwise.” But, being that people will probably find a way to dispute that, we’re not allowed to say that. So, we end up marking them off in the manner previously mentioned, and tossing them away, thus proving to be a tremendous waste of energy and materials…..hey…that description could apply to you too…tremendous waste…yeah. But what got me was not that person, what really floored me…was the one ten minutes later. Goes to the machine, makes 100 copies. Comes over to me, tosses the sheet on the counter and says “fix that and initial it”, meaning he’s obviously familiar with screwing up copies. When I ask why….he hands me a stack of 20 or 30 copies and says “these aren’t right”. So I take the stack, count them….27, and mark the number accordingly, and throw the 27 pages out. He says “hey, gimme those back”. Well, sir, you’re not paying for them, you can’t have them. “They mine…”. No sir, they’re not. You said they were no good. “Well I can still use them. …can I keep them?” OF COURSE YOU CAN SIR…AND YOU CAN PAY FOR THEM!. “But…”. BUT NOTHING SIR…if they’re not good enough to PAY for, then they’re not good enough to keep. Those unable to comprehend this are the basis of my newly formed definition of “retard”. It won’t fit:But this rant is not all about the copy counter. I do other things in the store too. Hey, before I go into this part…let me ask a question. How many of you have seen that commercial for the All New Super-Compact, Two-Door Sports Edition Hyundai, with the spacious cargo room and the seating for twelve? Have you seen it? Yeah. Neither have I. So the next time you come in the store and you pick out that beautiful new office furniture. New desk, new hutch, new book shelves, comfortable new office chair, new filing cabinet…..BRING A TRUCK. It won’t go in your Hyundai. Delivery to your backwoods trailer is 30 bucks. We have our own truck. And it’s big enough to hold all your furniture, and has good enough shocks t o get to that hole you live in forty miles from here. It just takes 30 bucks in gas to get there. Those unable to comprehend this are the basis of my newly formed definition of “retard”. Employees Only. Most people of average intelligence and average common sense know what this means. You see a sign, usually engraved and GLUED TO THE DOOR that says “employees only”. You don’t get a paycheck from that store, thus, eliminating you from the pool of “employees”. And you dare look at us like you’re surprised when you get clubbed over the head with a chair and tossed into the hallway when you go into OUR break room, and try to use OUR snack machine. If you want a snack, go to the registers. There’s a whole rack of them there, and a coke cooler too, overpriced for your convenience. Then there’s our back room. You have two go past TWO BIG SWINGING DOORS clearly labeled with “employees only” signs to get back there. It’s not well lit, and it doesn’t even have tile on the floor. Yup, that’s an obvious part of the store YOU”RE permitted access to. And again, you look dumbfounded when we toss you out on your ass. Things go on back there you don’t need to be a part of. Unsecured merchandise is back there. A fork lift that could impale and kill you is back there. Furniture that could fall on you and kill you is back there. And it’s the only place in the store we can go to seek immediate refuge from idiots like you, since you’ve OBVIOUSLY learned how to commandeer our BREAK ROOM. Oh, and need I mention ladders. This one is for you Daren. The ladders. We have these “stairways to heaven” as one employee called them. Ten foot stair-ladders, on wheels, for reaching top-stock and stuff out of reach of anyone but Julius Irving. And, when an employee does what they’re told, they’re properly cordoned off with a chain at the bottom of the ladder that says…you guessed it…“employees only” on it. So why is it the other day, we had a ton of customers, and one impatient customer chose to bypass this and go right up that ladder himself, and get, not only what he wanted, but a 100 pound boxed CHAIR? Once again… Those unable to comprehend this are the basis of my newly formed definition of “retard”. Yes, you DO carry that! Anyone in retail’s heard it. Where is “Item X”? Ma’am, we don’t carry “Item X”. And what’s the response….’’yes you do, I bought them here last week”. Theirs is, invariably, no response you can give to this that WON’T sound argumentative. What do you do? The only thing you can do. Smile and walk away. “I was told you carry that”. Well, ma’am, you were told wrong. “Don’t argue with me…where is it?” One of two extremely humorous responses is appropriate here. 1) Squint your eyes real big, hold your breath and turn red…and when they ask what you’re doing say “Concentrating, ma’am”. “On what?” They’ll ask…..and that’s when you look them dead in the face, relax your squinting, and say “I’m concentrating ma’am, because I’m trying to SHIT the item for you…because that’s the only way you’ll find it in THIS store”. OR 2) “I’m sorry ma’am, I had a momentary lapse of reason, and they’re on Aisle Twenty Four, next to the Braille highlighters”. You’ll feel great knowing that you got rid of the idiot, you sent them on a wild goose chase, because you only have twenty TWO aisles in the store, they’ll never comprehend the “Braille highlighter” joke until it’s far too late, and you got in a nice, sly reference to the immortal Pink Floyd. Do I have to say it? Those unable to comprehend this are the basis of my newly formed definition of “retard”. “I don’t need That Extended Warranty’” – Yes. You do. If you didn’t we wouldn’t offer it. You see, accidental damage warranties are there for a purpose. To cover ACCIDENTS. If you are so damn good, that you can tell me, two and a half years in advance, that the product you’re buying will, 110% surely, NOT be involved in an ACCIDENT….Can you predict when and where, and whose house that lightning’s gonna strike? If you can do that… I need you to go to the horse track with me. That and we know that you’re going after the cheaper price, therefore you’re buying junk. You are like a classically conditioned dog…what was it…Pavlov, I believe. Hear a bell, bark. Well, it’s no different with you. Hear us say “we offer” and immediately begin shaking your head and frothing like you’re having a seizure. Why don’t you try listening to it…it might be six bucks…and it’ll cover you if something happens, which, by the fact that your last name is MURPHY, will likely happen to you. If you take it home, and it does happen…the very moment you go “I should have bought the extended warranty”….that’s when you have classified yourself…under my brand new definition…of ”retard”. Come to my attention that’s their nature. Good for you – welcome to America – shut up and pay the advertised price, or go home. Skates. I’m not sure who the retard is in this situation. Is it the person who decided to INVENT tennis shoes with skates in bottoms, or the parent who buys them for their child? That’s a judgment call I don’t want to make. Let’s see. Let’s go to the facts. Your child comes skating through our store at a hundred miles an hour. The fourth employee in a row looks at them and says politely…”No skating in the store, please, these floors are waxed and you could get hurt ”. You get sick of it and say “I bought them those shoes; they can use them if they want”. Then, let’s just say the off chance happens, and the child careens face first into an end cap. Nose is broken. Face is bloody. Lying on the floor screaming, and you’re threatening to sue. Several witnesses, some employees, some not, heard the child politely told at LEAST four times to please refrain from skating in the store. They also heard you oh-so-politely chew the ASS off the fourth employee who said it, volunteering that YOU BOUGHT THOSE SHOES. You’re going to try and sue…and get absolutely nowhere. Now you’ve got a disfigured child, a broken pair of skates, and our corporate lawyer’s foot up your ass. And the man who invented those skates STILL has your $79.99. Never mind. I figured that one out myself. YOU’RE THE RETARD. At least by MY new definition anyway. No, I’m not talking about you. But everyone else in the store is. You know the communications that go on within retail environments are increasingly more technical and getting better by the hour. We all wear radios on which we can communicate with any team member in the store. You, as a customer, can’t hear both sides of the conversation, all you can hear, standing in front of me, are my responses. So when you ask yourself “I wonder if he’s talking about me?”, understand that no, I’m probably not talking about you, and your pajamas and slippers that you wore in the store at 3:30 in the afternoon, or the fact that your car stumbles worse than you after, well, the night before….and you haven’t showered in six weeks. No. I’m probably not talking about your perfume….what’s that fragrance…”Springtime In Baghdad?”. No. I’m not talking about you, but that’s just because I’m looking at you face to face. Everyone ELSE, however, IS talking about you. And that’s why I can’t keep a straight face looking at you. When the word “hose beast” comes across the radio in my right ear, and I’m looking at one, who can HELP but laugh out loud? Pajamas. Not Showering. 3:30 in the afternoon. Look it up, by my new definition, YOU ma’am, are a retard. Now…I’m off to write that new submission to Webster’s and Roget! Wish me luck!

In all my haste to make sure I made good on them, I actually forgot to post my New Years Resolutions, and so what, I’m 12 days late.  People say if you tell people what they are, you won’t uphold them, kinda like telling someone what you wished for, and having it not come true. I think that’s horse-crap.  I think if you tell people what they are, you’ll have better support for people to call you out on them when you’re about to break one.  Works for me.  Anyway, I’ve got a few, not a lot like some people, but a few.

1.        Stop stifling myself.  Creatively, I’m told I’m one of the most, well, creative, people a lot of people know (did that make sense?).   I write one hell of a mean rant and rave when I’m mildly upset, and even better when I’m extremely pissed off or extremely happy.  So, my goal, sans for it getting me fired, injured, or sued, is to say what I want, when it needs to be said….be it in writing, or directly to someone’s face.  Most of you who read my blogs know that I’ve already made good on this resolution several times over.

2.       Do what’s good for me.  My last taste of anything alcoholic was 11:45 PM on December 31, 2006.  From now on, given health issues both hereditary and otherwise, nothing alcoholic, and no pills stronger than basic ibuprofen, and no more than two of those.  No more pain pills, no more muscle relaxers, no nothing.  If it’s too bad to handle cold-turkey, then sleep it off….if you can’t sleep it off, then there’s more wrong than can be treated at home…..

3.       Make more time for family and friends.  I didn’t see my parents but ONE time during 2006, and they had to come to me.  That’s garbage…. My wife made probably 30 trips home during the year, and I went with her about three of those to see her parents.  Her family is my family too…it’s part of being married.  And “family” isn’t meaning “blood or legal relative” either.  I haven’t really seen (spent any quality time with) my little ‘nephew’ in forty forevers…..that needs to be remedied.  His parents are two of my best friends…why haven’t I seen THEM in just as long?  And my other closest friends….they have three little girls that seemingly don’t mind having another pseudo-uncle…and we take great pictures together…so yeah…they’re on the list too…and need I even forget my long lost sidekick…he’s only 70 miles away, and a phone call closer than that? Why don’t I talk to HIM every day?   All of these things are on my list of things to remedy.  That, and maybe starting a family of my own too….all things that can be fixed within the coming year!

4.       Self Improvement.  First, start with the “image” thing….when I cut all my hair off, I looked like a fat nazi skinhead.  Now that I’ve actually GOT hair, and let it grow, and lost a good part of the weight, I actually look HUMAN again.  Let’s maintain that.  Let it grow….not to the effect of looking like some of my friends (sorry DJC…but I can’t do what you do) but you know, if it’s neat, and still looks professional for at work, go with it. No reason you have to go around with a military buzz cut all the time, right? And I’m not waiting for opportunities to come to me anymore, because I’m finding out they just …don’t…anymore.  Back to school, and find someone to pay me what I’m worth to do what I’m good at. Don’t get me wrong…I love my job…I love the people I work with and have great respect for the people I work FOR….but for going on 16 years, every year,  I’ve said “I’ll not spend another Christmas in retail” and this year…I plan on keeping that promise (at least full-time..nothin against a part time thing I say…).
5.       And finally, stick to numbers 1-4.  Every damn year I make new years resolutions, and every year I break them within the first week.  So far I’m doin good…..only another 353 days to go this year. I turn 30 this year. The calendar years still keep moving forward…not backward… As much as I’d want them to. Not getting any younger?  The rate I’m going, this year could be mid-life for me…why waste it?

Okay, for those of you who have made comments on any of the posts and those comments have disappeared, or don’t show up as linked on the comment itself, please resubmit them. I /may/ have deleted them in the purging of the comments by all the fucking /BOTS/ that seem to have flocked to the comment portion of my website. It seems that these have been set upon me by some dumbasses that use them to link-advertise their websites. If you made a comment on something and you think it got deleted, please resubmit it and I’ll get it checked and approved. Thanks to Rae for letting me know there was an apparent issue with the comments section (I’d forgotten that I’d cut them off and redirected all of them into moderation in a fit of pique one night after deleting a dozen ‘I totally agree http://link.to.some.dumbasses.website.com/moron’)

Sorry about the mixup folks. Now back to your regularly scheduled humdrum.

Swift

A recent Newsweek poll alleges that 67% of Americans are unhappy with the
direction the country is headed and 69% of the country is unhappy with
the performance of the president. In essence 2/3 of the citizenry just
ain’t happy and want a change.

So being the knuckle dragger I am, I starting thinking, ”What we are so
unhappy about?”

Is it that we have electricity and running water 24 hours a day, 7 days a
week? Is our unhappiness the result of having air conditioning in the
summer and heating in the winter? Could it be that 95.4% of these unhappy
folks have a job? Maybe it is the ability to walk into a grocery store at
any time and see more food in moments than Darfur has seen in the last
year?

Maybe it is the ability to drive from the Pacific Ocean to the Atlantic
Ocean without having to present identification papers as we move through
each state? Or possibly the hundreds of clean and safe motels we would
find along the way that can provide temporary shelter? I guess having
thousands of restaurants with varying cuisine from around the world is
just not good enough. Or could it be that when we wreck our car,
emergency workers show up and provide services to help all involved.
Whether you are rich or poor they treat your wounds and even, if
necessary, send a helicopter to take you to the hospital.

Perhaps you are one of the 70% of Americans who own a home, you may be
upset with knowing that in the unfortunate case of having a fire, a group
of trained firefighters will appear in moments and use top notch
equipment to extinguish the flames thus saving you, your family and your
belongings. Or if, while at home watching one of your many flat screen
TVs, a burglar or prowler intrudes; an officer equipped with a gun and a
bullet-proof vest will come to defend you and your family against attack
or loss. This all in the backdrop of a neighborhood free of bombs or
militias raping and pillaging the residents. Neighborhoods where 90% of
teenagers own cell phones and computers.

How about the complete religious, social and political freedoms we enjoy
that are the envy of everyone in the world? Maybe that is what has 67% of
you folks unhappy.

Fact is, we are the largest group of ungrateful, spoiled brats the world
has ever seen. No wonder the world loves the U.S. yet has a great disdain
for its citizens. They see us for what we are. The most blessed people in
the world who do nothing but complain about what we don’t have and what
we hate about the country instead of thanking the good Lord we live here.

I know, I know. What about the president who took us into war and has no
plan to get us out? The president who has a measly 31% approval rating?
Is this the same president who guided the nation in the dark days after
9/11? The president that cut taxes to bring an economy out of recession?
Could this be the same guy who has been called every name in the book for
succeeding in keeping all the spoiled brats safe from terrorist attacks?
The commander in chief of an all-volunteer army that is out there
defending you and me?

Make no mistake about it. The troops in Iraq and Afghanistan have
volunteered to serve, and in many cases have died for your freedom. There
is currently no draft in this country. They didn’t have to go. They are
able to refuse to go and end up with either a ”general” discharge, an
”other than honorable” discharge or, worst case scenario, a
”dishonorable” discharge after a few days in the brig.

So why then the flat out discontentment in the minds of 69% of Americans?
Say what you want but I blame it on the media. If it bleeds, it leads,
and they specialize in bad news. Everybody will watch a car crash with
blood and guts. How many will watch kids selling lemonade at the corner?
The media knows this and media outlets are for-profit corporations. They
offer what sells. Just ask why they were going to allow a murderer like
O.J. Simpson to write a book and do a TV special about how he didn’t kill
his wife but if he did, how he would do it … insane!

Stop buying the negative venom you are fed everyday by the media. Shut
off the TV, burn Newsweek, and use the New York Times for the bottom of
your bird cage. Then start being grateful for all we have as a country.
There is exponentially more good than bad.

I close with one of my favorite quotes from B.C. Forbes in 1953:
”What have Americans to be thankful for? More than any other people on
the earth, we enjoy complete religious freedom, political freedom, social
freedom. Our liberties are sacredly safeguarded by the Constitution of
the United States, ‘the most wonderful work ever struck off at a given
time by the brain and purpose of man.’ Yes, we Americans of today have
been bequeathed a noble heritage. Let us pray that we may hand it down
unsullied to our children and theirs.”

I suggest we sit back and count our blessings for all we have. If we
don’t, what we have will be taken away. Then we will have to explain to
future generations why we squandered such blessing and abundance. If we
are not careful this generation will be known as the ”greediest and most
ungrateful generation.” A far cry from the proud Americans of the
”greatest generation” who left us an untarnished legacy.

Source Unknown, Received In Email

So I pull up the news and lo and behold, the BBC picked Queen as the number one British band of all time. They beat the Beatles by 400 votes! Kudos to my boys in Queen (the two of ya that are left anyway). But this begs the logical question, ‘does that make Queen bigger than Jesus’? John Lennon was, to some, heralded as a prophet. So one must lend at least SOME credence to his words, even if they were oftentimes drawn more from the cloudy, hemp driven upper loft of whatever apartment he was in that day than from his own, still delusional, ramblings. There remains a very visible, simple way to calculate exactly when the Beatles officially “grew up,” that is; became part of the counterculture and officially too slippery for the mainstream to categorize and file away. That moment occurred on July 29, 1966, when the teenybop magazine “DATEbook” published an excerpt of an earlier John interview where he stated that the Beatles were “more popular than Jesus.” Maureen Cleave’s original interview in the London Evening Standard had raised no eyebrows four months later, but in America, it exploded. And that, was seven years before the world ever heard of Freddie Mercury or Queen. So, follow my logic. If the Beatles are (were) ‘bigger than Jesus’ and Queen is now officially bigger than the Beatles….then logically, Queen is bigger than Jesus!. Here, for you geeks.

IF Beatles>Jesus AND Queen>Beatles, THEN Queen>Beatles=True.

Right? And as I said on my blog, Don’t go sending me a metric-shit-ton of emails claiming blasphemy or any such shit like that. Grow up, close your mouth, open your ears, and realize it’s a joke. And so is the whole poll, if you ask me. Don’t get me wrong…Queen will ALWAYS be number one on my list of great bands, and my all-time FAVORITE band, above any other….the music and words of Freddie Mercury can light your way through a lot of dark and dreary times…..but best british band? No, not hardly. Particularly when you consider that Led Zeppelin and Pink Floyd weren’t even PART of the poll… Okay, (Sorry Jamie) Led Zeppelin might be a stretch…but Pink Floyd is NOT, by any means, a stretch. In fact, I’ll go on record and say it. Musically, they were a better band than Queen. David Gilmour is a better guitar player than Brian May. They’re lyrics are deeper, they’re songs are more in tune with a lot of what I was thinking when I discovered them, but the poll was judged on Song Writing, Lyrics, Live Performance, Originality and Showmanship. Songwriting…Roger Waters beats Queen any day. Lyrics, not sure, But Live Performance, Originality and Showmanship, you gotta give it to Queen when comparing both “in their prime’’ bands. So had Floyd made it INTO the poll, one must think it wasn’t really fair in the first place. But, congratulations to Queen. It IS at least a well-deserved honor, if not mis-appointed.

Let me preface this next part of this blog by saying I am not a person who hates..I genuinely have no problem with 99% of the population….black, white, indian, or otherwise. It just so happens that all the crazy shit in the world that happens surrounding the other 1%…the biggoted, stereotypical sect of these races (and others)…just so often happens to ME…go fuckin figure…

Hey, get this shit. I will never ever very blatantly say “that’s discrimination” because I don’t know a lot about it to claim it…but for those of you who will ever frequent (well, those of you in Valdosta) the EnMark at Lee St. and Park Ave, watch out! I went in there today pulled up to the pump….and grabbed the cheap stuff, stuck the nozzle in the tank and flipped the lever…I tried to start filling the tank, but it wouldn’t go…it just kept saying “Please wait”. So I looked over at the attendant in the store and gave her the “what’s up?” face, complete with the “arms in the air indicating question” gesture. She yelled back over the intercom “read the sign…it says you have to prepay”. Okay. I didn’t see it. Stupid me. It’s a 2 inch square sign the same color as the pump. My bad. I went in and poured two coffees (I was taking one to a friend who badly needed it) and paid for those and 10 dollars in gas. The woman in front of me walked up and said “Pump 3″. The attendant looked back and said “21.41″ and took thirty dollars cash from her. Gave her change, and sent her on her way. I won’t say there’s an issue with race, but I’ll tell you she I’m white (a shock to some of you, I know) and the customer and the attendant were both “not white”…She didn’t have to prepay…and I know damn well she didn’t use a credit card at the pump, or she’d have never come inside. I looked at the attendant and again gave her that “what’s up with that?”. She looked at me and said “so what…we don’t steal from each other…”. First off…who the fuck is “WE” and what’s this ‘each other’ crap. So you’re telling me that because I’m white, and the attendant and the customer were both black….that gives them a right to discriminate…. Fuck that….I’ll go down the road to the store with the Indian guy with the wife with the dot on her head. It’s a nice dot, too. They don’t discriminate. THEY RIP OFF EVERYBODY…EQUALLY!. And they always get that nice “thank you come again” thing going in that Indian voice that only they can do. Shut up, you know EXACTLY what I’m talking about.

And PLEASE…give me one good reason why anyone has a right to park in a handicapped spot. This used to get on my nerves, and it sorta died down, and now it’s back on my nerves again. I dealt with it the other night, and I dealt with it again today at wal mart… The other night at work, this guy pulls up into the handicapped spot in front of the store, and not just one, he parked ACROSS both of them….left the car running, jumped out and ran in the front door. No permit. No tag. Nothin. And I looked at him and said “sir you’re parked in a handicapped spot”. He said “so what, I’m in a hurry” and kept right on going. He didn’t find what he wanted, and ran back out the front door. As he did I said “sir, I have family who are legally ENTITLED to park in those spaces, and don’t”. What gives you the right? He said “what are you, the police? I’ll take my business elsewhere if it’s a problem”. I simply turned around and walked away with a grin. “Good”, I thought to myself “at least it’ll Keep the asshole out of the handicapped spots at our store, won’t it?”. And then at Wal Mart tonight….it was even worse. This redneck…in a truck six feet off the ground, pulled up and parked in a Handicapped spot. No tag, no permit. He jumped down from his truck and headed inside. I had parked in the very first “non handicapped” space, adjacent to where he parked. As he was heading in, a lady in a Lincoln pulled up and had a permit AND a tag, and said “sir, that’s a disabled space”. He said “so what, ya old bag…you can hoof it from the back side for all I care, you ain’t special”. I looked at him and said “hey asshole, you ever heard of a little common courtesy?” He flipped me the bird and kept going. I told her “hold on ma’am, you can have my spot”. She said no…and said “I can take care of this”. She pulled up her Lincoln behind his big truck, blocking him in between a light pole and her car…and picked up the cell phone and said “I’ll call my son to take care of this guy, I’m sure he’s just a few blocks away”. I said to myself “oh God, someone’s gonna get shot by a redneck”. And I went inside. When I came back out, the redneck was back at his truck…and the woman was still there, in her car…and also present was her son…who was questioning the redneck as to why he was, one, parked in a handicapped spot with no permit, two, very rude to his mother, and three, in VISIBLE possession of an illegal firearm. That’s right, the old lady called her son….an ON DUTY…Valdosta Police Officer!. Guess you won’t park there anymore, will ya? And no, YOUR SUV is not a “permit” as one guy said. You know the types. The ones that pull a gigantic SUV into a handicapped space – apparently on the theory that “the fact that this monster won’t fit anywhere else in the lot is a handicap.” No, it’s not a handicap, and in my opinion people who park their SUVs – or anything else, for that matter – in a handicapped place when they’re not handicapped deserve the right to display a handicapped placard – for injuries received as a result of taking a space from a legitimately handicapped person. Kinda like parking in a fire lane, and turning on your flashers. Didn’t you know..parking a Hyundai in a fire lane and turning on your flashers, makes your Hyundai a fire truck, or so says my friend Mike. I think if you pull that shit, your car should be set on fire. It’d be a fire lane then, right?

To those of you who have ever called tech support and got some guy whose name takes three loads of phlegm to pronounce…. I had a man of obvious Indian descent (his wife had the hair thing going on and he bartered the price of a photocopy) who came in the store yesterday, and proceeded to inform me he didn’t feel obligated to pay taxes (more specifically, the 7% sales tax) because he wasn’t an American Citizen….welcome to America. That’s Uncle Sam’s way of saying “outsource THIS, bitch”. Seven percent, Habib. Okay. I feel better.

I posted this as a blog on my own site and in one of my emails several weeks back, but since it’s become one of my new years resolutions, I felt it appropriate to post it again. Plus, lot’s of people who read this blog, haven’t read it before.

And thanks for the props Rae… Before you ask, yes, I really am THAT bitter of an old man. LOL

So here’s my new years resolutions

1) Make more time for family and friends (Like the guy who owns this page…I never get to see him unless I need his help, and that makes me look like a horrible friend).
2) Stop stifling my creativity, be it verbally, or in writing. Say what I want, when I want, and mean it!
3) Family. Either start one or quit feeling jealous that other people have them. Either way I’m coming out ahead.
4) School. Go. Finish.
5) Broaden musical horizons. Listen to the stuff nobody thinks I’d listen to and promote the really good stuff.

And, along with number 4….

So this is the way it boils down. I am sick and fuckin tired of people telling me that I am too good for what I do. My boss looked at me the other day and said “I just want you to know, you are fuckin awesome at what you do”. And I knew it! I KNEW IT! I’ve known it for a long damn time. And it just drives me insane that for years I have sat here, three semesters away from a degree, and seventeen-plus years of designing and publishing and layouts, and everything else….and I get passed over for some 21 year old kid with a piece of paper that says a COLLEGE taught him how to do his job. These idiot kids with these degrees couldn’t express the knowledge in my little finger on their whole fuckin hexadecimal color scale! I won’t hide it now that it’s over….I had a job interview with a MAJOR printing company here the “immediate area” (and I won’t say who it is, but I will tell you it wasn’t one of these “mom & pop” businesses). They wanted a design publisher. Lay out business cards. Design flyers. Create books and print advertisement. Basically, everything I do NOW….on about ten times the scale. I stumbled upon the job by SHEER ACCIDENT….it wasn’t posted in the newspaper…I basically had an inside reference and a target-lock on about a 17 dollar an hour job…..Monday THrough friday – 8AM to 5PM…no weekends…no holidays…my own office…the whole shit and shebang… And they said “hell yeah, come talk to us”. And I did. And then they called back and said “come talk to MY boss”…and I did, and I sat there for an hour and a half and showed HIM things that HE didn’t know. And when I walked out of there last week…I was all but ASSURED that damn job was mine. Until tonight when I get the voicemail to call that “inside friend” back about the job. So I did. And we went round and round about it. “Corporate HR Wants the guy with the degree”. I cannot FATHOM the idea of how fucked up this world is…when you’re picking some nose-picking tweak geek with a piece of paper that says “pay me I’m worthless” over a guy with SEVENTEEN YEARS of design experience. And on top of that…I’ve got almost 15 years in customer service. Not only can I do the job…I know how to deal with the people when they say “we don’t like it, we’re not paying for it”….and I know how to do it with a sly, come-hither, ‘fuck you’ smile on my face. And we talked some more….he’s a friend…so we were real open and honest. He took BOTH of our resumes….and put them on the desk of the HR Director….and on BOTH resumes…”education” was not visible (He did that on purpose) and the guy looked at it and said “hell yeah, experience AND knowledge, and the customer skills…that’s our guy” and then asked about education. COMPLETE 180 DEGREE TURNAROUND….when he found out I didn’t have a degree? HORSESHIT. TOTAL HORSESHIT. I asked him..I said “Jay…what are they sending you to school in June to learn”. He said “Photoshop CS2″. Photoshop CS2 has been out for MONTHS..maybe a year now. They’re going to spend 1500 bucks in plane tickets….more than that in hotel rooms on the corporate cards for meals and strippers….to send these two guys to school, to learn the in’s and outs of a program that I’m certified to TEACH? Stupidity. But because this nutjob with the degree from The Universty Of Florida (For God’s Sake…go get a fuckin degree from a REAL SCHOOL….FSU…UGA…PSU…SOMETHING..), he’s more qualified than me.. He’s 21….he probably had a B average in school….and graduated middle of the class….and only customer service experience is writing drunken slurs on the comment cards at the University titty bar…. He’s more qualified than me. I started on Photoshop 4….FOUR….I learned it and moved on to FIVE…..then SIX…then I got certified in SEVEN, then certified in EIGHT…And Certified in CS (which is nine) and CS2 which is basically Ten. I have an Office User Specialist Certification from MICROSOFT for Publisher, word and Excel. But wait….the teacher handed him a line art and said “reproduce this” and he did it with less than 20% error, so he’s more qualified than me. BULLSHIT. The first time he looks at a flyer or business card layout that says 1/8 inch bleed. He’s gonna go “what?”. The next time someone tells him “you gotta move that text out of the danger zone…he’s gonna go “do what?”. If he KNOWS what “DPI” stands for, it’s because he can recite a technical manual. BOOK SMART DONT MEAN SHIT IN THIS BUSINESS. He can take a preformatted template, lay it out and go “that looks good”. So can I…but when the customer comes up and throws it back at him and goes “it’s too plain”…who’s he gonna go runnin to? That’s right. The first person he can find with the EXPERIENCE to know what people WANT TO SEE….and the guy who knows how to get it done fast, correctly, and within the parameters of the machine,. Me and Luke were talkin about this…what happens when you send the shit to the printer, and it comes “postscript error…undefined…havefont”. But wait, you built that shit in Illustrator and it just HAS To work. No, retard..it doesn’t. Bet school didn’t teach you that shit, did it? Bet you don’t KNOW to go back, outline your fonts. Or maybe there’s an off chance you DID know that…But wait…that didn’t work….now WHAT? Well..I know that it’s probably a corrupt font….replace the screen font and the printer font with one you KNOW works…and it’ll go away. But wait….how did you know that Steve-O? BECAUSE I HAVE PRACTICAL, HANDS-ON EXPERIENCE…THAT”S How. School simulations are meant NOT to give REAL WORLD PROBLEMS. But that’s fine. They’re gonna pay that guy 3 bucks more an hour because he’s got a degree. Do the math here.. 3 Bucks an Hour, forty hours a week, 52 weeks a year. $6,240 bucks a year….on a guy who’s cocky degree-based attitude will get shoved right back in his face, every time by a customer who’s just not happy with his mediocre-booksmart-design-class-taught bullshit…..and then where’s your $6,240 bucks? You’ve blown 300 bucks in materials RE-DOING THE JOB…OVERTIME HOURS paying another designer to RE-DO it….because the customer probably won’t WANT that retard doing it. A Couple times a year, time three idiots with degrees….and you’re cutting it awfully close. Are you sure you don’t want to hire the guy with the experience now? Nope. You want a robot. A clean slate with no experience that you can mold into your corporate image. FUCK FREE THINKING…WE GOT US ANOTHER DRONE HERE BOYS! YEE HAW! LINE HIM UP…KNOCK HIM DOWN. Okay. I get it.
But this is what I said to Jay…”Think about it this way…..you’re going to idaho next week? You’re getting on that plane. You got two choices for pilots. Choice “A” is someone who just finished his simulation….fresh out of school and because he was able to manipulate a COMPUTER SIMULATION, through an Ice Storm…and land safely…he’s got paper sayin “I can fly “technincally” this plane… Choice “B” has never seen the inside of a pilots manual in his life….he’s flown for seventeen years…and he’s got REAL WORLD EXPERIENCE landing airplanes on solid frozen runways, through piss, shit, and blizzards and cowpies…and has never lost a life. Your choice. Same goes with your million dollar machine…or the 250,000 dollar corporate account you lose tomorrow because your designer can’t handle a customer or design it the

.
And now it really hit home.
We got a guy at work. He’s about the most down-to-earth guy you’ll ever meet. I’m proud to call him a friend. He’s a hard worker…he’s intelligent…but when it comes to computers and stuff….he just chooses not to get involved with all that….and he came back tonight (right after I got back from lunch talkin to the guy..) and sees the posters I’m designing and goes “Steve-O…look at me….seriously…look at me when I say this….GO BACK TO SCHOOL…You’re TOO DAMN GOOD for this place….”
Boy Garrett…you hit that shit right on the head…didn’t ya? Tiff and Amy are right. What the hell is stopping me? The drive to the college? Not anymore.