Tag Archives: mores

Mad Maxxed

madmax4_movie3The news out of New York City was almost too unbelievable to believe.

Almost.

A rabid pack of bikers chased down an SUV, pulled out the driver and beat him in front of his wife and daughter.

Why does a story like this sound so familiar?
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Mediocre Fred

mediocre-fredMediocre Fred has been mentioned from time to time on this blog, but he’s never had his own moment in the spotlight. Until now. After all, he’s very mediocre.

Without further ado, I am pleased to introduce… um, wait. What’s his name? Whew. Luckily I have voluminous notes. Oh yeah, Fred.

Fred isn’t exactly the hollowest point in the 20-round magazine. Or something like that. So who is he and why is he a close, personal friend of the blog?

Fred was raised with basic values like decency, honesty and hard work. But he wasn’t particularly gifted in any special areas. He graduated from high school, because that’s what you’re supposed to do, but he didn’t stand out academically or athletically, so no scholarships came his way. His parents were simple working folk and unable to pay his way to college.

He doesn’t lie and his word is his bond. These days that makes him a veritable freak of nature.
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I’m One In A Million

million“What is the nature of existence?” no one asked me.

“You asked,” I replied. “So I’ll tell you…”

Imagine being born into a society. Congratulations! You were the sperm that won. (Unless the fertilization process was technologically interfered with and/or took place inside of a test tube. In that case, here’s your “participant” ribbon.)

For most of thus that’s exactly what happened. We came into existence and then, presumably sometime later, we attained some sort of consciousness. And without knowing what we were doing we began to absorb. Mostly from the idiots who surrounded us.

Nice plan. Now you’re totally fucked.
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Mouthy Gift Horse Shit

Way back on Dec. 1, 2011, I made a threat right here on this very blog:

Hyppo and Criter

This comic is just the teaser. A bit of foreshadowing, as it were. The actual post I estimate will be about 20,000 words. Or two-fifths of a novel. It’s “coming soon.”
–Tom B. Taker

The day has finally come to back up that threat. I’ve dumped the voluminous manuscript already in progress and will briefly freestyle the story just for you. For a bonus I’ll append a surprise recent twist.

You shouldn’t look a gift horse in the ass even if that’s the only face he ever presents. Or something like that.
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The Winning Sinning

Unlikely amoebas.

What is winning? What is risk? What is glory?

To win without risk is to triumph without glory.
— Pierre Corneille (1606 – 1684), ‘The Cid,’ 1636

Tough questions when it’s early on a Monday morning. Too tough. But I can tell you this much with 100 percent certainty: The continued existence of Charlie Sheen has absolutely ruined the internet for the term “winning.”

Out of the first 31 results in a Google Image Search for “winning” a whopping 28 of them had something to do with ye olde whack nut. On the highway of life Charlie Sheen is a single-vehicle accident.

I guess we could say he’s a winner when it comes to publicity.
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Time to T.P. the Blog #poop

Yes, there’s a crapp for that. Siri says, “Very good! Just one more push and you break the record.” #TMI

My blog may be an expert authority on poop but I do try to keep it classy, ya know?

Blogger Tip: A forgotten point in yesterday’s post becomes the launch point for a new post today. FTW!

So yeah, yesterday I left out a key point that probably changed the flavor of the whole thing. Well, maybe not flavor, but you know what I mean. I’m going to literally pick things up right where we left off.

And that’s the point of today’s article. I’m going to take you on a firsthand tour of the complicated world of small office politics, protocols, mores, values and norms. Just think of me as your very own amateur poop sociologist.

As you might imagine, in a small office little grotesqueries can become big problems if left untreated. That’s why they need to go to the treatment plant. It’s natural for humans to come up with way to cope in the face of unimaginable horrors.

Most of us have the sense to know not to do certain things. We instinctively feel with our gut, much like Captain Kirk, when something is bad form. But then again, some of us don’t. This post is directed at them.
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Won’t you be my asshole neighbor?

Broken beer bottle in the street

For about a month now this piece of asshole flotsam has been welcoming visitors to my neighborhood.
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