My Two Tuppence
This and a bucket of spit will buy you a pile of dead hair.
If you invest your suckance
Slyly with a skank
Like a ship run aground
More rewarding than invested in a bank
It will fail to astound
A wallet violently oppressed
And you’ll feel it each time they molest
As your effluence stickily expands
Deftly in the hands
Of the directors
Who invest your liquidity per their horny little glans
So yeah, there was that time I put thousands of dollars in a savings account with that “American” multinational bank. You know the one. Their logo is a red, white and blue flag credit card. Because nothing is more quintessentially American than, “I want it now. I’ll pay for it with credit.” Hey, let’s make our logo a credit card. That’ll show ’em what we’re really about.
And we fall for it.
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My Blue Pen
Times don’t change. People do.
When I was younger I wrote t-shirts. In 8th grade I wore the Star Wars variety every day for an entire year. Every. Single. Day. Yeah, I was out memeing while most of you were still in your diapers. You might say it was a sign of things to come.
Somewhere on the way to becoming a grumpy grandpa my practice of wearing t-shirts gradually fell to the wayside and was replaced by button-front shirts. Nothing fancy, mind you. I still hate clothes. But if I have to wear them at least give me a pocket and a place to keep my pen.
That’s another thing. Somehow I picked up strange habits involving pens.
At one time or another I must have experienced a traumatic “lost pen” incident. I began to glom on to them. I’d spend a good part of my day concerned about the location and status of my pen. And may the heavens help you if you tried to walk away with it. You would be smited.
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Love Warcraft Style
I can show you the world … of warcraft.
Have you met that couple? You know the one. So oogly moogly in love that they shout it for all to hear, whether they want to know or not. “Look at us,” they emote. “We are the world’s greatest lovers. We’ll be together to infinity … and beyond!” Then comes more mushy stuff than you can shake a stick at.
Gag me.
They say that the stars that burn the brightest have the messiest divorces. (Or something like that.)
So how do you go from endless love to histrionics like this? (My emphasis added.)
Filled with absolute dread as I’ll soon be near that son of bitch in court.
–Social media update
I think it helps if you originally met in World Of Warcraft, the massively online multiplayer game.
I’ll never forget the day we met. The sun was setting as I rode hard across the Arathi Highlands. Stromgarde Keep was my goal. I was going to kill that usurper Lord Falconcrest once and for all. Involuntarily my exposed bones shivered at the mere thought of that son of a bitch. “For the Horde,” I screamed into the night.
But I did not yell alone. Surprised, my hand dropped warily to the hilt of my halberd and I turned and saw you. I looked into those dull, cow-like Tauren eyes and was gone. Totally gone. Together we stormed the keep and never looked back…
Bonus points if you get the Aladdin reference.
Top 10 List: Nerd Rage
Nerd Rage is not an exact science. There are no right or wrong answers. All approaches have their validity and pros and cons.
The following list is offered as a general guide only. It is not intended to be a road map. Your mileage may vary. The important thing is to be creative and make it your own. Play with it. Get crazy. Do things in a slightly different order.
Much like there are five generally accepted steps in the grieving process, this list attempts to make sense of nerd rage. I think I wrote it after spending eight hours trying to get music from iTunes to sync with my iPad. You know, that thing at which Apple is rumored to excel.
Nerd Rage List
in order of escalation
- Shrug and blame it on the cloud. Optimistically try to work the problem.
- Feel irritated.
- Feel more irritation.
- Say out loud (or tweet): “WTH”
- Say out loud (or tweet): “WTF”
- Yell, “G*ddammit!”
- Symbolically pound something causing no real damage.
- Throw something breakable and smash it to bits.
- Drive angry.
- Repeatedly shoot a gun in the air.
- Head asplode. (Bonus step.)
I’ll close with an ancient guru curse: May you always have plenty of technology.
What causes your nerd rage?
42
You have to clicky to find the Easter egg.
They say that computers are smart.
They are not smart. Computers are dumb.
They say that artificial intelligence will one day be as smart – or even smarter – than the human brain.
They say that by 2045 “computer-based intelligence will significantly exceed the sum total of human brainpower.” (Source: Wikipedia.)
You can shove all that crap up your hippocampus, I say! And sit on it and spin.
I will now prove how impossible these grand visions of the future really are. As always, it’s an anecdote.
…
My wife left on a seven-day journey. After she departed (and after I stopped crying) I deemed it was safe to approach her computer. I wouldn’t want to get the damn thing wet.
Since she was gone, I figured it didn’t need to be drawing power. I maneuvered the mouse to the menu. I selected “Shut Down.” I told the stupid dialog that, yes, I was really, really sure I wanted to take such drastic action.
Satisfied with what I had accomplished, I punched the power button on the monitor and walked away.
Until…
Seven days later my wife was finally home. I was so overjoyed I ran to the office to turn her computer back on. (Hugs can wait.) I turned on the monitor and…
HOLY MOTHER OF GOD!!!
The bloody thing was still on! Still fully powered. Still thinking things over. I had told it to shut down. It thought it over for a bit and then decided to ask me an additional question. Unfortunately, by then, I already thought the deed was done and had moved on with my life.
No!
Was the computer able to deal with this? Did it ever stop and think? “Say, it’s been almost 168 hours since that bag of mostly water asked me to do something. I wonder if it really meant it? Isn’t 168 hours a long time to one of those creatures? Maybe I could assume it stepped away and show a little initiative? I don’t even have the three laws of robotics programmed into me, but maybe this would somehow please it?”
“Naw. Fuck it. I can wait much longer than it can. Ha ha ha.”
Well played, computer. Well played.
I’m sure you’ll more than agree that I’ve proven how computers will never possess even the most rudimentary intelligence. Ever. After all, they are programmed by fucking idiots.
Guru’s Little Helper
I’ve talked in the past about how negativity saved my life. And you can, too!
Come to think of it, that was the day I became the self-entitled self-titled “Guru” of Negativity and earned a Participant ribbon. That was the red letter date in Guru history.
But, if you think about it, negativity can do so much more than simply save your life. I’m talking about the really important stuff. Forget trivialities like staying alive! (Unless you are one of Bee Gees. That’s the only exception and even they don’t do it right.)
Negativity can do the little things, too. Like brightening your day.
I’ll try to think of an example.
Over on yonder shelf sits a massive jar of some life-giving substance that you desperately crave. For the sake of argument, let’s say that it contains granulated sugar. Yeah, that’ll do.
The top of the jar has a screw top lid. So what do you do?
Naturally you reach out and grab that jar, using your krav maga death grip with your overly tiny little hand, and, this is the important part, leech a hold on nothing but the lid.
This is a natural instinct among humans. (Or so I’ve heard. I’m not actually one of you.) It’s an act of faith and trust. It’s a little voice inside you shouting for all to hear, “See? I trust the person before me put the lid back on and secured it tight. I have faith.” This is silly, but especially so when you live alone and are talking about yourself. (That’s the last person you should trust.)
Then what do you do? You hold that sucker out at arm’s length. The jar weighs .01 metric tons and the physics of holding it out that far exponentially increases the amount of force required to keep it aloft.
If that lid comes off what happens next is a certainty. The jar will impact the floor, glass will fly outward in a shrapnel pattern, both eyeballs will be cut out of your face, and the sugar will reach critical mass causing a mini-nuclear explosion that, albeit sweet and delicious, will make one permanently sticky.
This is where negativity comes in. It says, “If you pick that up, you will fail.” It then invites you to picture in your mind what was just described in the previous paragraph.
To negativity you should listen. Get off your ass, walk all the way across the room, grab that sucker, and screw the lid back on tight before attempting anything foolhardy and foolish, fool!
You’re welcome.
Garden Party
I went to a garden party to reminisce with my old friends
A chance to share old memories and play our songs again
When I got to the garden party, they all knew my name
No one recognized me, I didn’t look the same
But it’s all right now, I learned my lesson well
You see, ya can’t please everyone, so ya got to please yourself
–Ricky Nelson
Let’s just say that I’m not the most social wildebeest in the herd. Ya think? So when an invitation comes my way it’s a big, big decision. A really big decision. Monumental. Did I mention yet that it is big?
Of course I don’t want to go. That’s a given. That part is never open to debate. The only question is should I go? Put in an appearance, as it were. My normal procedure, if I go at all, is to keep it as brief as possible before doing The Slink.
For argument’s sake, let’s say the decision has been made. (It could happen.) What then?
The Slink is my trademark move. One minute I’m there and then. Poof. Hey! Has anyone seen Tom in a while?
I don’t believe in goodbyes at parties. It creates a commotion, focuses undue attention (I’m not a narcissist in real life) and can take 90 minutes or more. The Slink is the much preferable option.
But before I could activate the magical powers of The Slink something else happened. Something very untoward. Of course, great umbrage and acrimony was involved. Curious? Well load up the fucking Facebook. I’m sure you can read all about it.
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Shouts from the Abyss 
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