Worst Movie Bosses
Ha ha ha! I'm the boss of you!
Ever since I reviewed the movie Horrible Bosses this last Monday, I’ve been thinking about bad bosses as portrayed in the movies. You’d think by now I’d be an expert on this but I kind of struggled. I couldn’t think of very many.
Of course, the first one to come to mind was Bill Lumbergh from Office Space. I’ve seen that movie so many damn times. Lumbergh is a classic boss, always moaning about “TPS reports” (whatever the hell they are) and trying to get employees to work on the weekend. He’s not a very good listener, either, and becomes nasty when the consultants he hired turn on him. LOL!
Other than that, the only other bad boss I could think of was the Meryl Streep character in The Devil Wears Prada. Yes, I’ve actually seen that movie, but I barely remember it. Sure, she seemed like a biz-natch to have as a boss, but, deep down inside, didn’t she really care about her worker? After all, she told that other company they’d be idiots not to hire her and then there was that smile at the end of the movie that told us she was nice. You know, deep down inside. Not that it may have matter by then.
That was about it. That was all that came to mind. So I turned to the internet. Ah, I found something called “The Top 10 Worst Movie Boss” on Spike.com. Now we’re talking. Let’s see what they thought of that I didn’t.
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The Neon Ninja of Naked Negativity Nirvana
Since I usually try to go in a direction other than what is expected, take that road less traveled, today I thought I would do the opposite. Rather than go for the unusual I’m going to do exactly what everyone expected. And that is what’s so tricky about it. I just went another level deep into the metegame. Suckers!
This is my “N” post for the A-Z Blogging Challenge. That makes this sort of a Holy day here in the Abyss. Henceforth, April 16th shall be known as our only official holyday.
This post will fail. Miserably. But the beauty of negativity is that I’m allowed the freedom to explore that failure. My ninja negativity philosophy is simple:
Not only is failure an option, it is inevitable.
There’s such a negative connotation swirling around the word “failure,” yet so many try to convince us that failure is a stepping stone to success. Hell, sticky notes were initially an accident. The dude was trying to invent something else and failed! But that sort of turnout is like winning the lotto. It is the stuff of legend. It is something that just doesn’t happen to the rest of us.
Even as the self-appointed “guru” on the topic, I still have so much to learn about negativity. I utterly lack the ability to grasp the true meanings or communicate much about the subject to anyone else. Yet it is precisely those failures make me perfectly suited for the job.
Let us start by considering an expression like this: “We take responsibilities for our successes and attribute failures to external causes.” (Miller & Rose, 1975.)
It’s a nice insight into the foibles of the human condition, eh? But I maintain that the exact opposite is true. We actively cause our failures because that is what we are wired to do. It is, deep down inside, what we want. Any success is usually just shit ass luck, and probably a mistake. (Intended for someone else.) Sometimes good shit will happen, even to the worst of us. During those trying times we need to shake it off, realize that’s not who we are, and continue to move forward with our failures as best we can. With focus you can get over your successes.
Since I’m so lacking in the mysteries of negativity, I thought instead I’d merely share some tips with you today. The first one is a little something I’ve learned that can help make you appear more negative than you really are. Don’t worry. Your time will still come, but at least you can look the part while still on the journey.
The tip is this little phrase:
I can’t stand __________! That’s the one thing I fucking hate the most!
This little phrase works wonders and will help make you appear more negative than you really are. Here’s a couple examples:
“I can’t stand people who overfill their bowls at the Mongolian BBQ! That’s the one thing I fucking hate the most!”
Or:
“I can’t stand Pottery Barn catalogs in my mailbox. That’s the one thing I fucking hate the most!”
Of course, if you use this phrase too often, you might get called on it. That is what happened to me. “Gee, Tom. It seems like everything is the ‘one’ thing you hate the most. That can’t always be true, can it? Hahaha!”
Luckily I was able to weasel out of that observation with my negativity intact. I can’t explain how I did it, but it worked. I guess that’s where the guru kicks in.
There is one tactic that works out well simply due to basic human nature. It is the universal desire to say “hello” in the form of a question. For example, “How are you?”
In my experience no one really wants the answer to that question. “How am I? Do you really wanna know? I’m slowly dying, I’m miserable, a failure, and I’m pissed off about it. That is how I am doing. Aren’t you glad you asked.”
Some people who know me well simply say, “morning,” as a method of greeting. Note: The word “good” is not part of that greeting. Otherwise they get another earful along the lines of, “What the fuck is so good about it?”
Another fantastic phrase for maintaining your appearance of negativity is: “This is the worst day of my life.”
The quintessential example of this phrase comes from the movie Office Space:
Peter Gibbons: So I was sitting in my cubicle today, and I realized, ever since I started working, every single day of my life has been worse than the day before it. So that means that every single day that you see me, that’s on the worst day of my life.
Dr. Swanson: What about today? Is today the worst day of your life?
Peter Gibbons: Yeah.
Dr. Swanson: Wow, that’s messed up.
God, that movie is brilliant.
Use this phrase and use it often. When it comes to negativity you simply can’t go too far. There is no limit.
One last piece of advice before I close the broadcast for today. If you found the previous examples and tips too advanced, you’re in luck. I saved the best for last. Let’s call the closing of this post “Negativity for Beginners.” You are about to be rewarded for your perseverance. Only the few who read this whole steaming pile of poop will ever see this parting advice hidden at the bottom. It’s like fruit in a yogurt cup!
When all else fails (a joyous time), just remember to keep it simple. Stick to the basics and go with the time-honored classics. Rotate through these few phrases every chance you get and you’ll do just fine:
“We will fail.”
“This will never work.”
“Impossible!”
“Can’t!”
“We’re doomed.”
If you ever feel that negativity eludes you, just think back on your own personal life experiences for inspiration. If your life has been shitty, draw on that for the strength and power to go on. If you life has been great, remember that all good things must come to an end. Try to imagine how you will feel when everything invariably goes sideways. Remember, it is inevitable. That is your special place where you must go. Sadly, those of you with good lives will have the harder time getting there, but be strong. It can be done!
Time’s up. I gotta go. I’m about to subject myself to the worst thing that has ever happened to me and it’s going to suck. Bad. If I’m lucky, I won’t live through it, but the reality is the Universe won’t be satisfied with that, so I’ll be back here tomorrow. It’s time to go experience the worst day of my life. During which I will miserably fail.
Guru out.
This is my “N” post for the April 2011 “A to Z Blogging Challenge.”
Challenging a monk to a first date
I recently added the following to my bucket list:
Challenge a monk to hand-to-hand combat.
I added it as the final item on the list based on the assumption I wouldn’t survive.
I’m not sure where that idea came from. I think it was during brainstorming for a new reality TV show called “My Suicide Note.” I figured, yeah, “death by monk” would probably be a way cool way to go.
Even though I was trained to kill with my bare hands by the federal government, I have little doubt that even the most mediocre monk could frag my ass. Maybe they’d send out the monk who is the slacker goof off and barely maintaining his grade point average. He/she would still make mincemeat out of me.
Can you tell I have very little to talk about today? Does it show?
Next I cruised by Plinky for a writing idea. “Share a story about your worst date ever.” Barf.
Actually, “barf” is the story. I had to clean vomit out of the back seat of my car. That’s a night I’ll never remember. And a story I’ll most likely never share. I don’t exactly come across as the hero.
Let’s see, what else? I think it’s documented somewhere that my first kiss was with a girl named “Tex” at church camp. She grabbed me, manhandled me into the bushes, and kissed me. And it’s been nothing but dominant cowgirls ever since.
I once put a personal ad up on the internet looking for a date. I said in the ad, “Must live in my area. No long distance.” So of course a woman wrote in from the next county over. She lived about 90 miles away. I still remember my reply. I said, “Thanks but no thanks. 90 miles is too far.” Still, we continued to correspond and eventually we did decide to meet.
I drove those damn 90 miles and met her at a restaurant where we had dinner. Classy guy that I am, I ordered the hot wings. (They sounded so good.) You tell me. Is it possible to make a good first impression on a first date when one’s face is liberally smeared with BBQ sauce? I don’t think so!
After dinner and several wet naps, we went for a walk around a nearby man-made lake and she grabbed me, manhandled me into the bushes and kissed me.
Believe me, these aren’t the worst of the worst, either. Some stories will never be told.
How about you? Got any humorous first date stories of your own?
America’s Next Great Person Who Sucks Least
I did experiments like these and many more
There’s a small chance I was a weird kid.
I think I played different.
I’ll talk about one of those differences today.
Like a lot of kids, I had toy cars that ran on little pieces of plastic track. I did the usual stuff with these toys like conducts races, torment the cat, and bounce them off my sister’s head.
But I also did some weird stuff with them, too. One things I did was conduct experiments.
Actually, I think I was a bit before my time. Long before I’d ever heard of reality TV or “bracketology” I was simulating both, even as a wee tyke.
What I would do is take my assorted cars and devise experiments for them. In my own version of bracketology each car would randomly challenge another car for the right to move on in the competition. I’d put the cars through all sorts of tests. There were jumping tests, distance tests, stability going down a bumpy surface, etc.
I’d go through as many rounds as it took to determine the “winner.” Then I’d log my findings in my little notebook. My objective? To determine which car was the “best.”
Sometimes I’d mix things up, though. Instead of bracketology, I’d run the contest in rounds where only the worst performer was eliminated. After a series of these rounds only one competitor would remain and be declared the “winner.” And I kept logs of those findings, too.
Logs of my results! Sick, huh?
It’s been far too long to remember which method produced the best results and how the methodology effected the results, if it did at all. But I distinctly remember doing both. And the logs themselves haven’t survived. Sadly, that bit of scientific knowledge has been lost forever. The world won’t be able to benefit from my experiments.
But I can’t help but wonder. Does the modern reality TV show methodology of “who sucks the most this round” eventually get around to producing a contestant who is the “best?” Or is it just a fancy way of randomizing things?
One thing is certain: The producers of this form of entertainment could care less as long as you watch.
Like Alton Brown says, “Even great cooks can have bad days.” And one bad day could easily eliminate the “best” contestant, especially when the conditions of the test are extremely rigged based on some totally random and extreme criteria. “And the secret ingredient … is … TOBACCO!” Unfortunately this severely hamstrings every chef except the one from North Carolina.
Does Tyra’s show really produce America’s next “top model?” Is the last chef left standing really the “top” one? Is the last person on the island really the best “survivor?” And why are we so compelled to watch?
Am I wrong or do these shows seldom produce the “best?” Or, in a case like Survivor, who was the best player that “deserved” to win but was still voted out?
Whatever. The decision of this blog is final. The person who sucks most will leave this blog immediately. The blog has spoken.
Shouts from the Abyss 
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