I'm going to fist spam your flat screen

Web rage has become the digital version of I'm going reposition your butt ugly nose to the back side of your head. Email banter and other forms of e-chat have brought a whole new perspective on testosterone charged internet communications. Persumably sane fools are losing all their low blood pressure cool in e-chat battles that would make Attila the Hun back off. Apparently the cold world of bits and bytes with it's lack of voice tone and body language have made some folks a bit touchy - you know the ones easily pushed over the edge. Interpretations of literal word choices without the human nuances used with other forms of communication sends the hard core fringe freaks into adversarial orbit. I've noticed that the personality types that tend to be crisp and pointed with their e-words will always get into an e-war with the personality types that read everything literally with no room for gray fringes. I'm sure we all know folks from these two scary segments of the anal school of black or white interpretation.

These e-fisty cuffs all have the same characteristics and draw upon the same schoolyard tactics everyone fondly remembers and enjoyed while pubescing. First, there's the initiating e-comment. Usually a "to the point" e-banter about nothing. Second, the receiver interprets the message as an attack on their sorry ass manhood. Now the e-gloves are off. The response amounts to the first e-punch from the one with the insecure manhood. The response has all his e-friends cc'd as e-backup. One can't enter into war without backup. The original sender now has one of two choices. Go for a return e-strike or provide a more tactful interpretation of the original e-exchange. 99% of the time the original e-sender goes for the e-attack - how dare anyone misinterpret their e-message. They return an e-blast with all of their e-friends cc'd - again, one can't have too much e-backup. Now we have a full blown e-war with both sides slinging every e-disparage possible and occasionally some new ones. By round two everyone has been labeled a sexual deviate. Volley three is reserved for picking on spelling and grammar. Return four is for e-smucking relatives. And finally attack five is reserved for "I'm paying you a visit with my black belt in "pick your Asian people thumper mode" friends to womp your butt. At this point the e-war is over. Everyone meekly realizes that no one knows where the offending parties live, and if they do it's usually half a continent away.

Ya wanna e-go. My e-server will e-boot your e-ass to the recycle bin without return e-postage.

where's my tip?

This tipping for service thing has gone way over the edge or not nearly far enough. Generally I'm dead set against tipping for service in its current social form. Why are we only allowed to tip a small portion of the experience? I want to be able to reward or penalize all aspects of the product. For example, a fine meal includes the food, china and stainless, linens, free beer refills, nonsticky chair arm rests, frosted beer mugs (even for rounds two, three, four and five), service, view, temperature, hostess cleavage, atmosphere, ambiance, quiet neighboring tables without brattie kids, parking, nonchatty server, dessert tray, weather, a ride home, and your date. If any one of these equally important elements of a meal go awry then the whole experience heads south real fast. If you get a charred steak buried in a fungal green sauce that your doberman pincher would back away from served in a slop bucket delivered by butt scratching Armond with a tude then you should have the privilege of not paying anything - nada. And why should you be limited to only taking your angst against butt boy? Surely the establishment honchos have a play in making sure the entire experience is exemplary. And if Armond is a single mutation from cro-magnum then way is he on the staff to begin with. I suppose if your date is butt ugly, slurps his wine and spits his s's then you can't fault the fine dining establishment except for possibly too much light and not enough background noise.

Another perspective on this process is that the culinary honchos should pay the anal scratcher decent wages so he doesn't have to promise sexual favors for a reasonable tip. Does the proprietor think that folks are fooled by the lower prices on the greasy plastic laminated menu because decent compensation for the service is not included. BTW, why has it become standard practice to include a predetermined gratuity for large parties, usually at a higher rate than standard. WTF. Why is serving a large party any more troubling than several small parties with individual idiosyncrasies. I digress. Pay the peasants some decent coin and get off our backs.

Still another perspective. If this blog doesn't put tipping out of my misery then it should not be limited to certain services like meals brought to your table, Jack Daniels poured from one glass container to another, haircuts with lice ladened clippers, taxi thrill rides in smoke stained iron coffins and full body massages by callus knuckled Slovik women. If I can stiff my barber for the buzz cut look from Terminator II then I want to stiff the doctor that didn't cure my pedifungus and the pilot that 3g'ed the landing. I want to stiff the auto mechanic for selling me a rear end lub job I didn't enjoy and the cable company for not carrying my favorite sex help talk shows. I want to stiff my insurance company for overcharging me and my electric power provider for not supplying enough charging.

And of course, one final and most important perspective on tipping. Give me a piece of the tipping economics. Just a small token for my contributions towards enhancing the good will and fortune of humanity. A gratuity of 25% for single contributions and 50% for any party over 3 is more than fair. The cashier will take care of the math.

I want my drugs

The next time you watch one of the national evening news broadcasts count the number of drug advertisements. You will be bombarded with today's drug assault with feel good brands like Paxil, Claritin, Levitra, Vioxx, Cialis, Zoloft, Zyban, Viagra, Aleve, Lipitor, Propecia, Xanax, Celebrex.... (Disclaimer: I'm being very presumptuous that any sane person still watches one of these liberal bastions of American news outlets. It is however, safe to assume a majority of America's hypochondriacs view this dribble.)

Some interesting aspects to this barrage of chemical enhancements. First, they require perscriptions - you know an MD's recommendation and signature before the visit to your local Paxil pusher. Apparently the advertising strategy is to convince the drug happy and gullible public that they have an affliction that needs attending to posthaste and then arm the buzz heads with 10 second sound bits of medical jargon to browbeat their doctor with. If the doctor doesn't play their role pronto then one simply opens up the spam filters on their email server and before the first keystroke they'll have two dozen internet options to procure their favorite brain fog, delivered conveniently to their doorstep. Second, the ads use vibrant and healthy actors - too healthy. In fact, it's clear that they use twenty-something youngsters and add the temple gray and the 1970's wardrobe. This is quite clever. The subliminal process convinces the cloudy minded viewer that if Tarzan and Jane need arthritic soothing creme or acid refex terminator then their sore ass with it's 30 pounds of excess human lard hanging off a stiff jointed carcess for sure needs some synthetic pick me up.

Now I will say every once in awhile a covalent bonded wonder is introduced that catches even my holistic attention. The recent ED curables are such products. I was never a Viagra convert - too many stories of heart stoppages for my libdo. My simple brain rationalizes that if you're dead you can't do the belly dance. But the two new brands have a new twist. I need to point out that ED has never been nor will ever be an issue for this willy wacking wunderkind. However, when I hear that four hour marathons are possible my pheromone antennae perk up. This maybe the answer to the bravado that every testosterone laden male has promised their partner(s) but failed miserably at many times during their prime manhood years. That all elusive all night sweatfest. Captain Chemical has created an energizer bunny for the nuggie noggie.

you need counseling

For all of you Dear Abby fans, what's with this advice chick? I have to admit that I've read her column over the years to keep a pulse on the whiner scale both from the zeros that write in and her same old, 1960's morality peppered with the 1990's feel good. First of all, if ya got a real life problem who in all persumed sanity would compose a letter to a pseudonym and have it plastered over every newspaper that ran out of sports scores to print. And then get one of three canned responses. 1) you need counseling, 2) you and your, insert as appropriate "worthless husband, disrespecting teenage, or wicked mother-in-law", should get counseling and 3) get another counselor. Whenever she tries to get a bit creative and meander ever so slightly away from the bare your soul mantra she steps right into a 7" pile of steaming, wet dog poo. Then her lurking readers put the hammer down, give her a verbal biatch slap and get her refocused again for the next set of human slugs to send to counseling.

If all the "world is kicking me in the crotch with number 17 Wolverine mud stumpers" whiners would just realize that some things are a given in life and just accept the inevitable they could boot Dear A off the gravy train and she'd have to get a real job like composing obituaries. Cultural chi would return and I'd have to read Dave Barry for entertainment.

For the Paxil addicts here's a sampling of life's certainties:

- It's not your wedding so get over it and remember half of you will drop the loser within 5 years anyhow, so why be a perfectionist now.
- Mother-in-laws have a mutated gene, so they can't help it.
- Male genes never mutated so they carry with them the Neanderthal complex and will always be slime balls. BTW, they can't be changed so stop trying.
- Teenagers will always hate their parents, it's the process of preparing them for their kids.
- Everybody gets senile, some just a little earlier than others.
- Everybody was abused, just ask them.
- Counselors have all the same problems as you whiners so how can they help you when they can't help themselves.

My office hours are 11-12pm on the 5th Friday of the month. Slap sauve provided.

sunday church dress up

A recent flurry of editorials have hijacked the local newspaper's editorial page regarding the proper attire for church going. The fact that this is even an issue with anyone activates my dopamine. It further blows my mind that I'm wasting bit space and bandwidth adding to this bad brother banter. But hey, it's the sabbath and this is my contribution to organized spiritually.

The pro dress up fringe argues that it shows disrespect for the almightly one to show up in church with beachware and tee ready golf clubs. Nipple rings would most likely be frowned upon as well. The dress as you are fringe points out that some of the more famous biblical folks wore sandals to church and hence set the precedent a couple millenia ago for casualware. Interestingly, no where is it mentioned that the majority of folks these days don't even attend church. Correlation?

It seems to me that the solution is obvious. Attendence allowed only in one's birthday suit. I bet attendence would go up significantly or at least the traffic near the venue of worship. There certainly would be no argument over who's the best and worst dressed. Aunt Mary would have to leave her Sunday bonnet in the shiny Lincoln. All members would bring their own seat doilies. We wouldn't want naked butts and periphery tainting the naturally stained fake oak pews. There might be side bets on who wins the sag and droop contest but people are people and we all know pettiness is part of the species' genome. It would also be a clever way to expose all those nipple rings. Everybody wins.

See ya in church.

Is world order dependent on Friday night HS football?

What's with Friday night HS football?! Thursday evening news interviews with coaches, players and fans by highly (overly) compensated communications experts suggest that world order is riding on the outcome of Friday night football games. Must be, because >20% of the local news show is dedicated to the sports anchor rambling on about this team or that rivalry!! WGAF. Listen to any of these interviews and only 10 words are ever used, albeit in different combinations to keep us near idiots on our toes - "execution", "turnover", "defense", "offense", "focus", "fundamentals", "control", "penetration", "contain" and "field position". Isn't there a loser for every winner and hence total neutrality at the end of the day? Add the win/lose columns at the end of the season and doesn't it always equal zero? So what was gained besides blown teenage cartilage, fired up testosterone, and an adult brawl in the stands? Ok, maybe the middle aged, beer bellied coach with the bully complex that played two years of undistinguished Division III college ball, including his redshirt year, never transgressing beyond puberty can keep his physical education job at the local HS. And that the megabuck sports budget can be justified another year to the overburdened taxpayers. You're probably now expecting me to lament on how the sports $ are spent at the expense of slighting the more intellectual outlets like the debate and chess teams. Nope. That's another post.

For a postscript, I suppose it's noteworthy that <10% of the HS players go onto college ball and major in creative class skipping with a faint hope of pro ball and nailing the cheerleader(s). College sports is definitely worthy of another post.

more freaks in Austraila and Cuba

As a follow on to yesterday's olympic fringe freak commentary I decided to look closer at the medal winner tallies. The total medal count went something like US - 103, Russia - 92, China - 63, Austraila - 49 and Germany - 48. At first blush it appears the US kicked some serious freak ass. But wait. Let's play nerd and normalize the medal count on a per capita basis. The numbers now look like US - .4 medals per million people, Russia - .6, China - .05, Austraila - 2.5, and Germany - .6. Holy crap, we got soundly trounced!! Austraila had over 5 times the medal production rate than the US. In fact, of the top 11 medal producers we only beat China and Japan, two Asian countries where the average height is less than a bar stool and average weight is 137 lbs soaked in soy sauce. Interestingly, Cuba matched Austraila's freak rate. We got our marshmallow butts handed to us by a geriatric dictator and a continent of former inmates. We look pee poor on the freak fringe scale. It's time for some major American mutations. Come on America it's time to freak out!! BTW, was I the only American routing aganst the US b-ball team - what a freak show!

freak show in Athens

The 3 week freak show in Athens was great, although NBC way over played gymnastics, swimming and commercial breaks during US primetime. 10,000 athletes performing at an odd lot of events to a level that 99.99983% of the human population can't come remotely close to - even on the best drugs money and fame can buy. Swimmers of 6'-4" stature, equal size wing span, piddling 32" inseam and size 17 pedifins! The only mutation missing is a set of gills. Definitely a pool freak! A 10,000 meter track sprint at sub 4 and 1/2 minute mile pace with a closing 1/4 mile of 54 seconds. A damn fast track freak! Triple, backward, single handed somersaults with a twist or two thrown in on a 4" wooden beam by a 4' 2" emaciated barbie doll. A tiny, flexible freak! 100 lb women weightlifters throwing more than twice their body weight of iron above their heads. Strong, scary freaks! Barrel chested, neckless human muscle masses heaving 16 lb steel balls over 70 feet. Very big, strong and hairy freaks! What percentile of the human population do these genetic variations fit into? Well it's the freaky fringe. And to spot these freaks of freaks look for a gold medallion drapped around their necks. The less fortunate freaks carry other markers. Definition from Webster: freak (freek) n. 1, an abnormal person, plant or thing.

flogging blogging

I've been aware of blogging for awhile, but didn't pay much attention until now. WTF. I've recently browsed through a few typical blogs and after a few head bobs and 10 second power snoozes trying to get through these dry dribbles decided that we've found another means of creating huge piles of cyber dung. My goodness - booooooooooring. Do folks actually get off reading about Jeeny procrastinating over homework. Darin reminising about last night's coconut shrimp. Tomas wondering why his ladyfriend dumped his bums ...... over the phone, after 5 years of supposed bliss. My biggest kick - so far - is the typical opening comment "I apologize for not keeping this updated". Like the world is gnawing it's nails waiting for Pauli to tell us about the day she had. Personally I'd like to thank Pauli for not updating her blooping blog and saving server space!

boyze's first blip

I found out about blogger.com from a bike forum which I learned about from a Nissan 350Z forum which I stumbled across from internet car shopping. Don't ya love the internet!! Cosmic order or virtual randomness?