SIDENOTE: What is the point in placing in your ad that, yes, you are indeed hiring, EXACTLY what positions you are hiring for, and how to go about applying (Apply in Person)? About 90% of my phone calls during the day go like this...
"Yes, we ARE hiring." (which is why there is an ad in the paper)
"Yes, we are hiring for that position (which is why it is listed in the ad.)"
"You have to come by and fill out an application." ("How do I apply?" Which is why we put "apply in person" in the ad.)
"We are located at (then I give our address.)" (which is why we put our address in the ad.)

I'm sick of people. I'm sick of all of you. You either drive too damn fast, or too damn slow. Or you cut me off in traffic. And you don't wave when I let you in. You can't fucking spell. You don't think things through. You use "like" and "you know" and "uh" too much. You vote even though you have no idea what you're voting on. You don't give a damn about all the Mexicans ruining our country. You don't like ice hockey. You actually listen to Air America and watch Bravo and Oh! and MTV. You voted for John Kerry. You voted for George Bush. Your worst offense, though, is that you write your stupid little blogs as if someone else gives a shit. Happy Halloween!

UPDATE:
I sincerely regret if my words were interpreted to wrongly imply anything negative about those who write blogs, and I personally apologize to any blogger, family member or American who was offended. As a blogger, I want to make it clear to anyone in in the blogosphere and to their loved ones: My poorly stated joke in this blog was not about, and never intended to refer to any blogger.

SIDENOTE:Why does everyone get all excited about THIS time change? You get hungry for lunch at 11. You're at work and it's only 3pm and you're thinking "Holy FUCK! Isn't it time to go home yet?"

How fucking stupid do you have to be to buy this crap? Everyone knows that the hot chicks are all at the bars, getting stupid, horny morons to buy them drinks. And when they're done, they'll reach right into that stupid, horny moron's chest, rip out his still-beating, hope-filled heart, throw it on the ground, and leave with all their other hot chick friends to go home and laugh at all the stupid, horny morons tripping over themselves to buy the hot chicks drinks. Fucking retards. Fucking hot chicks.

Dear God. Why am I sitting here at 2 (what used to be 3) in the morning watching Happy Tree Friends? (what the hell is this crap, and why in the hell would anyone PAY someone to produce this kind of show?) I should be doing something useful...you know, like sleeping, or playing Metal Gear Solid or watching a Godzilla movie (it IS HALLOWEEN season after all.)

This is nothing but a political stunt. "See, we ARE trying to protect our borders." It's complete BULLSHIT. The fence won't even be continuous for 700 miles. (the US/Mexican border is over 2,000 miles long.) It's going to run across parts of Texas, New Mexico, Arizona, and California. It will do NOTHING. Let's say you have an acre of property and want to fence it in to keep the dog in, and the neighbors kids out of your pool. Would putting down 100 feet of fence do anything?

I heard a great analogy this morning on the Walton and Johnson Show ("Radio Gawds" link to the right) Pretend your house is infested with ants. You've spilled some sugar on the floor, and the ants are coming in to get the sugar. Are you just going to shut the door and hope they don't come in? No, because the ants are going to find any little nook, cranny, crack and crevice to come in and get the sugar. You can try and spray poison to kill the ants, but the poison will wear off and the ants will return to the sugar. The only EFFECTIVE way to get rid of the ants is to clean up the sugar.

Same goes for illegal aliens. They are coming here to get the "sugar" (citizenship for their child if born here, free medical care, free school [in their own language], free everything. You can try and close the door (build a fence, increase border patrols, etc.), but they are going to find every little nook, cranny, crack and crevice to come in and get the sugar. The only EFFECTIVE way to get rid of the aliens is to clean up the "sugar."

But the people that run our government don't want to get rid of the ants. They want to remain in power, and don't want to risk pissing the ants off for fear of getting bitten. They don't care that the ants are going to infest their home and make life extremely uncomfortable for the rest if it's inhabitants.

From Neal Boortz this morning...here's how serious our goverment is about stopping illegal immigration.
Every day for the last 10 years, the Roswell, GA police department has faxed a list of EVERY inmate in their custody suspected of being in the country illegally to the INS office in Atlanta. To date, they have faxed over 10,000 names. Immigration has picked up TWELVE. The Roswell police department is the only law enforcement agency that follows this practice in this particular region, so it's not like Immigration is swamped with names to check out.

This paragraph kills me...

Overwhelmed immigration agents say they only have time to deport the worst of the worst — terrorists, murderers and violent gang members. "It's a simple question of priorities," said ICE's Smith. "If we're using resources to respond to somebody charged with a misdemeanor in Roswell, who are we missing?"

Completely Unrelated Earwom (I need to find my son's Spongebob CD, I think.)
Bury me softly in this womb
I give this part of me for you
Sand rains down and here I sit
Holding rare flowers in a tomb

Down in a hole and I don't know if I can be saved
See my heart, I decorate it like a grave
You don't understand who they thought I was supposed to be
Look at me now, a man who won't let himself be

Down in a hole, feelin' so smal
Down in a hole, losin' my soul
I'd like to fly...but my wings have been so denied

In this article Stossel writes why health insurance provided by your employer is a bad idea. It's an excellent read and I can't find anything I disagree with.

Anyway, I started thinking of some bumper stickers I wanted to see. Here are some of the not quite terrible ideas:

If you can read this...BACK THE FUCK OFF! (In really small type, for tailgaters)

Left Lane = Passing Lane (For people who don't understand the concept of the passing lane. You drive in the right lane, you come upon a slower car, you move into the left lane to pass that car, then you GET BACK IN THE RIGHT LANE! You don't stay in the left lane. Dumbass.)

It's Raining + Windshield Wipers On = TURN YOUR DAMN HEADLIGHTS ON, TOO! (I'll never understand why people don't get this. You aren't turning your headlights on so you can see better, you're turning them on for ME to see YOU better. It's raining, there's less visibility, your car is fucking silver, or gray, or white, or black, and I can't SEE you. Why haven't car manufacturers started making cars to where when you switch on your wipers, your headlights automatically come on? Or just made daytime running lights mandatory?)

Guns don't kill people...the government does (I admit, I ripped this off from Dale Gribble.)

A picture of one of those little Calvins peeing on...one of those little Calvins peeing. (When is this FAD going to go away? TRUE STORY: I saw one where Calvin was peeing on a Ford symbol. Calvin was wearing a shirt with the Chevy symbol. The sticker was on a Toyota.)

And of course, one I did make for me. It shows the logo "W" and says "Four More Years, Bitch!" I drove around for most of 2005 flashing it to anyone who had a "Kerry/Edwards" bumper sticker. I still whip it out on occasion when I pass one of those idiots.

Earworm pt. 3
I tell you what, these earworms are killing me. This one is an oldie, but it has a groovy intro.

I can't say what I want to, even if I'm not serious.
I can't say what I want to, even if I'm not serious.
Things like, "Fuck yourself...Fuck yourself...you piece of shit, why don't you just go kill yourself!"
I said, I can't say what I want to, even if I'm not serious.
I can't say what I want to, even if I'm just kidding!

People tell me what to say, what to think, and what to play.
I said, people tell me what to say, what to think, and what to play.
Things like, "Fuck yourself...fuck yourself...you piece of shit, why don't you just go kill yourself?
I said, I can't say what I want to, even if I'm not serious.
I can't say what I want to, even if, I'm just kidding.

Fuck yourself...Fuck yourself...you piece of shit, why don't you go fuck yoursef?

Just kidding
Just kidding
Just kidding

I don't know what to say about this other than, if you decide to take the coward's way out, why take someone with you? If you want to put a bullet in your head, fine. But spare the rest of us the misery of wondering why you couldn't just deal with yourself instead of killing someone else.

I wanted to use this as an argument for why I believe 16-year olds (or even 17-year olds) shouldn't be allowed to drive. But this kid would have done something anyway, regardless of whether or not she had a license. She survived the crash. Hopefully she'll get to live out her remaining days in a jail cell. Knowing our broken justice system, though, she'll be out when she's 18 and get to live a full, happy life.

"Yeah, I felt the kid up, but it wasn't abuse"
So says the priest who abused Congressman Mark Foley as a 14-year old. Think about that for a minute. It wasn't really abuse, because he seemed to like it. There is NO QUESTION that if this were between an adult male and an underage female, it would be considered abuse. now, Foley is apparently gay. If I, as a 14-year old, were felt up by, say, Elle MacPherson or Rachel Hunter (you know, as they were back when I WAS 14), I'm 100% certain I would have enjoyed it. But that does not change the fact that I would have been underaged and they would have been adults and thus it would have been ILLEGAL.

This guy, this child molester, is still a priest in the Catholic church. And he ADMITTED to molesting a child. Why is he STILL A PREIST?

Earworm pt. 2
All I knew and all I believed are crumbling images
that no longer comfort me.
I scramble to reach higher ground, some order and sanity,
or something to comfort me.
So I take what is mine,and hold what is mine,
suffocate what is mine, and bury what's mine.
Soon the water will come and claim what is mine.
I must leave it behind, and climb to a new place now.
This ground is not the rock I thought it to be.
Thought I was high, and free.
I thought I was there
divine destiny.

I was wrong.
This changes everything.

The water is rising up on me.
Thought the sun would come deliver me,
but the truth has come to punish me instead.
The ground is breaking down right under me.
Cleanse and purge me in the water.

The power steering pump (which lets you actually make the vehicle go in a direction other than straight)
The oil pump (which provides your engine with vital cooling and lubrication)
The alternator (which provides your vehicle with electrical power when the engine is running)

I pull off the interstate. The exit I happen to be pulling off takes me into a residential neighborhood, not a mechanic or even an overhang in sight. I turn the heater on full blow in the hopes of keeping the engine cool since there's no oil being pumped through it. I drive for about half a mile, still no where to pull over other than driveways. I finally decide that I've got to get off the road and get the belt back on before the engine burns up. It's raining, remember. No, It's POURING. The only shelter over me is a big ol' pecan tree and the hood of my van. I'm not going to recount my attempt at getting the belt back on myself, I'm only going to say that after 2 minutes I'm drenched. When I finally give up, 30 minutes later, I'm so soaked my socks are wet. When I took my wallet out of my pocket later that day, the stuff inside is wet. I also uttered a string of swear words that would embarass R. Lee Ermey. I think I might have even cursed the name of God at one point. I never do get the belt on. So I decide to try and find a mechanic.

Unfortunately for me, It's raining. It's also rush hour. I'm also headed towards and going to have to drive through the campus of Louisiana State University. Anyone who has ever tried to drive through there at 4:30 in the afternoon will understand my worry. Especially when the battery light comes on (remember, my alternator is out, so I'm running everything off the battery.) I shut off my head lights, air conditioner, and wipers. The speed of traffic on Highland road at 4:30 in the afternoon is not measured in MPH, it's measured in mmPH (millimeters per hour.) Finally, I get to a gas station and head in to get a phone book. I'm going to have to call a tow or find a service station. Then I go to their restroom to dry off a little, that's when I notice my appearance. I look like I'm wearing blackface, I have grease all over me. So that's why the little girl behind the counter was staring at me the whole time. The fact that I looked like I just climbed out of the Mississippi River also helped.

There is a good part to the story. There was a Goodyear service station about a quarter of a mile away. I walk in, still looking like I have been swimming in my work clothes, and the store manager looks at me, very calmly and without pause says "What can I do for you?" I told him that I drove through some water and my belt came off. He looks at me, and I swear to God and Jesus I am not making this up, asks "Caravan?" He can't have seen it because it is a quarter of a mile down the road. Apparently, this is a common problem. I hate Dodge, Plymouth, and all Chrysler related products. They not only were willing to put the belt on, they moved me to the front of the line to do it, since it was just a half-hour job. So, if you're in Baton Rouge and need service on your automobile or a good set of tires, be sure to go to the Goodyear on Lee Drive. (There's your free plug, guys.)

By the time it was all said and done, it was 5 o'clock, and I still had to get home, which would have been a 30 minute drive...in ideal conditions. However, conditions were most decidedly NOT ideal. So it took me an hour.

I hate Baton Rouge.

IN THE NEWS
My God, what have we done to piss off the stingrays?
Watch your back, man. Those fucking stingrays will cut you.

Rain is also good football weather. Many of my fondest memories of high school involve my teammates and me on the sidelines, muddy and soaked to the bone, basking in the glory of a game well in hand, or on edge because of a game that could go either way, or sharing our misery because of one that got away from us. Nervous with anticipation for the moment we'd strap our helmets back on and head onto the field again. There's nothing better than a wet, muddy football game. Coach Stehrs used to say "It's O-Line weather." Indeed, it was.

But after a very extended period, my mood changes. The sky is gray, the streets are slick, water is standing everywhere, and everything is wet and wilted. Everything looks bleak. Like the end of the world. If you could capture the mood of a man who just lost his wife, his children, his home and his job not just all at once, but during a couple of weeks during where his car also breaks down, his dad calls and tells him he and his mother are getting a divorce, and he just had his right hand amputated (he's a guitar player, but his guitar just got stolen)...if you could capture that mood, that feeling that God not only has it in for you, but he's piling it on just for fun...if you could capture that mood and create the weather from it, two days of un-ending rains is what if would feel like.

But the sun always pops out from behind the clouds.

Eventually...

NOTE: The "football gods" are a theory put forth by Gregg Easterbrook, who's column "Tuesday Morning Quarterback" appears on ESPN's Page 2 on...Tuesdays.
According to Easterbrook's theory, if you evoke the wrath of the football gods their fury will be visted upon you. Verily. Some ways to anger the football gods:

Punting from the "Maroon Zone." (the portion of the field where it is too far to try a field goal, but a punt is likely to result in a touchback.

Holding the ball aloft in a celebratory manner prior to scoring.

Not "kicking for it early (Field Goal) and going for it late." (Unless WAAAY behind, in which case you should go for it. What have you got to lose?)

Not having scantily-clad cheerleaders on the sidelines when the weather is good. Incidentally, the colder the weather and the more scantily-clad the cheerleaders, the happier the football gods are.

If you are a football fan of any type, Easterbrook's column should be mandatory reading. I can't link to him for work-related web filter reasons, but if you go to ESPN's home pages, and click on his name under the Page 2 header, it will bring you to his column. Have plenty of spare time, though, his column will take you an hour or so to get through.

We are trying to build our workforce, but for every two employees we hire, we lose one. Two steps forward and one step back and if you do that too much, you feel like you aren't going anywhere at all.

Then there's the problem of expectations. I've (for some strange reason incomprehensible to me) gotten the reputation as being a kind of "go-to-guy." There's not a lot of "do you think you can do this?" There's an awful lot of "We know you can get it done, and we need it done yesterday." What do you do when everyone slaps you on the back and tells you "Hey, you're doing a good job" but you feel like a fraud, a pretender?

Sunday Night Football
Did anybody catch that game? I'm a die-hard Denver Broncos fan and, as such, I hate the Oakland Raiders and everything to do with that organization. This year the Raiders are down and some players are even on suicide watch and I'm loving it. The Broncos are doing pretty damn good and I was wanting to see them BURY the Raiders last night. I mean the kind of beating where the guy's face is all bloody and broken and you just keep pounding away just for the fun of it. You want to see the guy humiliated, utterly destroyed. But for some reason the Broncos left the door open for the Raiders to get back in it for the whole game, the Raiders were just too inept to capitalize. They were just one punt or interception return or long run or deep pass away from being back in it. Just one mistake and all of a sudden we have a ball game. Yet the Broncos just seemed content to "la-dee-da" run the ball, three and out, punt, lather, rinse, repeat. Where was the desire, the attack, the aggression? Why weren't we going for the jugular? Sure, in any other game, you do what is working. But this was the Raiders. We should have been up on them 49-0 at the start of the 4th quarter, and going for more. Rubbing their faces in it. What a horrible game.

Thinking Deep

I look at the dirt dobber or ant or bee and wonder "Are we better off?" Just like those insects, most of us build, defend and work for the overall greater good of our societies. But the insect does not have to prop up the unproductive or destructive members of its small society. They just let them fall prey to the birds and other predators. The insect is unburdened by emotions such as disappointment, anger, hatred. Most importantly, the insect does not have to contend with questions of morality or God or logic or "why?" For the honey bee, there is no struggle to answer the question "why?" Everything just IS.

A man said to the Universe (or as I like to think, Protested to the Universe before being winked out. - Ed.), "Sir, I exist."
"However," replied the Universe, "The fact has not created in me a sense of obligation."

Or as Ted "Theodore" Logan (paraphrasing Kansas) put it "All we are is dust in the wind, dude."

I don't know why. It's stuck in my head for some reason. I'm having it played at my funeral.

You know what? There's my next post, my ideal political party (and it ain't either of the big two.)

I was paying my energy bill online today and I got pissed off. Why? Because of all the happy people on their website. There's one of a woman getting clothes out of her dryer, and she's having a good old time. Then there's the picture of the happy customer service representative who was apparently just told a very funny joke by the person she was speaking with. Everybody's happy to be dealing with the energy company.

Why don't they show some "real" images. Like the one of the dad yanking clothes out of the dryer at 10 o'clock on a Sunday night because between having to mow the yard with a push mower because the riding mower is broken and changing the brake pads on his wife's van because he can't afford to pay some jerk mechanic's $65/hour labor fee, he hasn't had time to wash his children's school uniform until late Sunday night. Or how about a picture of the undertrained, less-than-pleasant customer service rep who has a bad attitude because she is being asked questions she doesn't know the answer to? Or a picture of the energy customer opening his bill and wondering why the "fuel surcharge" costs more than the actual energy usage.

Fucking utility companies.

What is going on today? This is a period when I question my faith a little. I, for one, don't really believe that God is as involved in our everyday lives as we would like Him to be. I don't believe "Everything happens for a reason," nor do I believe that when a person dies "God decided it was time for him/her to come home." That really takes human free will and choice out of the equation. If "everything happens for a reason" that would seem to imply that our paths are pre-determined. I don't think we are moving down a set path, I think the choices in life we make determine what road we are going to follow.

But I do wonder, why would God NOT try to intervene a little when this guy headed out to shoot up that school? Why didn't he cause a tree branch to fall on his car, or his car not to start. This is silly, of course, God allows all of us to make our own decision, whether it's to believe in Him, or to shoot up a school. I think God gave us the pallette, it is up to us individually and as a whole to make use of it. It is up to us to decide if we want to make something beautiful, something ugly, or something in between.

On a much lighter note...I am enjoying my baby daughter much more than I ever thought I would. Truth be told, when I found out my wife was pregnant again, I was hoping for another little boy. I also have to admit that I was a little bit disappointed when I found out it was a girl. On that day she was born, though, I could not have loved anyone more than my brand new baby daughter. I actually teared up, which I did not do when my son was born. Here she is, a mere 10 months later, making her world smaller (and my world seem much larger and more dangerous). Her laughter bursts forth like water rushing over a dam. There is no better sound than an infant's laugh, I am convinced. I melt when I get home from work and her eyes light up now that she realizes who I am and can sort of understand the concept of "daddy." With her curly brown hair, and tooth-filled smiles, I realize I am getting soft and sort of emotional. I hate that.

I want to warn all you boys, though. I have been studying Aikido for the last two years. By the time my daughter is old enough to attract your attention, I should be 2nd or 3rd dan. I can already break your arm with minimal effort. I'll be able to remove it from its socket, wrap it around your neck, and jam its lifeless fingers into every facial orifice before you've even hit the ground by the time you are able to drive. I also have an extensive collection of guns, most of the 12 gauge pump-action variety. I will not hesitate to take one out and show you. My Pa Pa has a Browning 12 gauge automatic that I plan on inheriting. There is nothing more satisfying than hearing the "clack" of that Browning's bolt as it slides forward. I can let you hear that, too. I'm also a bit of an outdoorsman. I know of places that have never been seen by another human, and I have a very sharp hatchet.

Go ahead and familiarize yourself with the Rules for Dating my Daughter.

I'm calling on behalf of American Family Voices. Republican leaders, including Speaker Denny Hastert, have been covering up for a child sexual predator...

Upon further contemplation, I WISH I had listened to the rest of the call to see what exactly they wanted me to do. I live in Louisiana, so I can't vote for the piss-ant Democrat running in Foley's district. After perusing their website, I'm guessing they wanted me to sign some petition demanding that ALL Republican members of Congress step down over this outrage. I decided to send them a reply.

To: afv@americanfamilyvoices.org
Re: Mark Foley

Dear Fucktards,

I can't tell you how much I appreciate getting a phone call from your fine organization. During my dinner (which my FAMILY and I have together every night.) I can't tell you how much it pisses me off when my FAMILY dinner is interupted. And to top it all off you didn't even have the common decency to have a live person call me, you had a god damn computer do it. How the hell am I supposed to cuss the caller out when I'm talking to HAL the Computer? Which is why I'm writing you.

I have to admit, I didn't listen to the whole phone call, so I didn't get to the point of your call. After dinner, my curiosity was piqued, so I took a look at your website. I'm guessing that you were calling me to sign a petition "We call on Speaker Dennis Hastert, Majority Leader John Boehner, National Republican Campaign Committee Chair Tom Reynolds, Chair of the House Page Board Rep. John Shimkus, and any other member of Congress who has participated in this cover-up, to resign immediately."

At first, I was going to tell you to go fuck yourself since I didn't recall getting a similar call from you while President Clinton was commiting purjury over getting a humdinger in the Oval Office. But I see that your organization was not founded until 2000, so I'll cut you a little slack. I tell you what, I'll sign your gay little petition, but I'm going to add an addendum to the petition, which follows.

"I'd like to add the following addendum: I call on EVERY elected official who has EVER commited a moral indescretion while in office to step down. Unlike the apparently partisan American Family Voices, I think that ALL indiscretions should be punished, not just the immoral actions of those I disagree with politically."

There. Don't ever fucking call me again. Place me on your do-not-call list. And you know what, you can go ahead and go fuck yourselves anyway.

Sincerely, (Heavyarms)

After some further research, it turns out that AFV is a "non-partisan group" that campaigned for Al Gore in 2000, and spent most of 2001-2003 airing attack ads on George Bush. The group claims no political expeditures because they state that their ads are not meant to influence the outcome of elections. So not only did they call me and interupt my dinner, but they are a bunch of liars, too.

UPDATE: 10/10/06. Still no reply from "American Family Voices." Damn.

WARNING!! The following exchange is VERY graphic. I take no responsibility if you get offended by this. If you are under the age of 18, you need to go ask your mommy if it is okay for you to read this. Do not click on this if you are easily offended, or are just clicking on it to get free gay porn (PERVERT!)

Now. Is this naughty? Yes. Should the guy have resigned? Absolutely. Is it downright despicable that this took place between a grown man and a child? Yes. Should it prove true that Republican leadership knew of this and kept it quiet, it is despicable.

Is this the worst thing that has ever happened? No. In 1983, Rep. Gerry Studds (D-MA) admitted to having a sexual affair with a 17 year old male page. Not just an explicit exchange, mind you, but actual...physical...contact. (That's great, Ray, save some for me). This dubious action was so horrid in the mind of Democratic voters that Studds was re-elected the following year. Teddy Kennedy has been in re-elected something like 20 consecutive terms, despite leaving a young woman to drown submerged under six feet of water in the backseat of his upside down car while he wandered up and down the roadside and contemplated how his political career would suffer. (YTedK)

Yes, there SHOULD be moral outrage over this incident. But where was it for Gerry Studds? Where the hell has it been for Teddy Kennedy for the last 30 years?