Societal Nuts
The news is abuzz with a story about “swatting.”
What is swatting? I figured it had something to do with flies or, perhaps, it was a new street lingo euphemism for something disgusting (sexual) done in bed. I was wrong on both counts. Like everything important in life, Wikipedia provides illumination:
Swatting is the tricking of any emergency service (via such as a 9-1-1 dispatcher) into dispatching an emergency response based on the false report of an on-going critical incident.
Source: Wikipedia – Swatting
A particularly nasty version of swatting is when you hoax the police into sending a SWAT (Special Weapons And Tactics) response to the home of your sworn enemy and kicking in their door, possibly shooting them while they reach for their salad fork and generally ruining their day. This is the sort of thing kids consider to be trendy these days.
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Type A Encounters: Five Stages of Beef
There’s a person I know. Who? Someone I know. Let’s just leave it at that.
Tom’s Law #42
As a devout [insert religion here], whenever possible, I only do business with other [insert religion here]. That way, when things inevitably go to shit, I can viciously write about them on my public [insert religion here] blog and foment animosity and dissent within the entire congregation. Verily, I say unto you, halleluja!
—When [insert religion here] Attack, by Tom B. Taker
Let’s leave the specific religion out of it, too. I pledge not to go sectarian on their asses even when they deserve it.
So, this guy I know is quite the character. As someone who has suffered in his vicinity (we all have our crosses to bear) I do get the odd thrill of delight when someone meets him for the first time. I get to feel validated and vindicated in my feelings as my various hypotheses about him are confirmed by the newcomer going through the same process I did.
That’s when I realized there are actual laws at work that govern this reactionary process. I have dubbed this theory The Five Stages of Beef. It’s what happens when a person meets someone of humanoid condition Type A. Of course, we all know that the “A” stands for Asshole.
Denial
You only get one chance to make a first impression. When you meet this particular guy you are on Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride of the Senses. As you meet him for the first time you’re in for a wallop.
Visually eclectic, he has the disheveled pointing-straight-up hair of three-year-old who just rolled out of bed. Your nose, however, will simultaneously pick up on the fact that he didn’t shower before putting on disheveled, dirty and wrinkled clothes. He’s also a man who also clings to fiercely held personal beliefs like anti-bacterial handsoap is stupid and deodorant is a marketing scheme. He’s not afraid to put those beliefs into action, either. You’ll get your smell-based verification of this as his body odor envelopes you.
This is when denial kicks in. Is this guy for real? Naw. It can’t be. This can’t be happening. Not to me.
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A Tail of Two Kitties
The kitties had a rough Holiday season. Our guests came with three dogs and the cats responded by spending five days under the bed in the master bedroom. The also held a certification vote, joined the Teamsters union, and presented me with a list of demands. My home is now a union shop.
Here’s a few shots I surreptitiously purloined with my iPad.
The cats would sometimes cuddle in solidarity.
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Where Farce Won?
Am I the only person in America who noticed something odd about the first presidential debate?
Fasten your seat-belts, ensure your trays and seats are fully upright, and, of course, assume the position. Please turn off all electronic devices including the one you are using to read these very words. This post is about to take-off.
JET!
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Under Siege: Just Want A Nap
The other day I wrote about the army of youngling solicitors that have been carpet bombing our house trying to divorce me from my wallet. If they’d just double my property taxes I’d get a lot more peace and quiet so it would be worth it.
What happened to the American dream? My guess is that Donald Trump bought it and subdivided it. And installed special plumbing so they don’t just get water, they get a little icy beverage known as Trump Ice. It’s better than water.
I must be something special. It seems the whole world is after my wallet. It works a little something like this:
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Shouts from the Abyss 
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