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Friday, December 11, 2009

I wonder...

What it would be like to have a conversation with Henry Rollins.

Do you think he would talk for three hours straight without letting you get a word in edgewise? Or would there be some back and forth there?

I could tell him about some idiot I saw on the bus to work and he could tell me about some idiot he saw on the tour bus in Poland on a Black Flag tour in 1986.

I've been to Disneyland, I could say.

That's cool. I've been to Iran.

Did you ever see that movie...?

Are you kidding? I was in that movie.

It would only go down from there. Then I'd be reliving all the spoken word sessions I listened to as a young man. I still have those tapes somewhere...

Cheating Justice

I have a confession to make.

I never liked Tiger Woods. Oh, sure, I was impressed by his prodigy at golf, but that was tempered by my general antipathy towards golf. You can't really get too excited about a sportsman if you don't like his sport.

But as the years went on, my lack of opinion on Tiger became an opinion: A hopelessly negative one.

It started with the endorsement deals, the Nike ones in particular. I remember reading that they signed Tiger to a $10 million deal to promote the brand and thinking, "So the company that pays poor third-world laborers pennies on the dollar to make their shoes and clothes and hats and all that other crap is going to spend $10 million to an already rich American dude to sell it?"

That not only struck me as patently unfair, but it just seems like bad business. Oh, I'm sure the bean counters made it work though...which makes me wonder what they'd do if the brass decided to give the factory floor a raise and skip the celebrity endorsement. You know, make money by making a better product not by having a pretty spokesman.

But then again, we're talking about Nike. This is the kind of company that during my high school years -and the heyday of 90s gang violence- stocked an all-red shoe and an all-blue shoe, but not an all-green one or an all-purple one. You know, not that they were marketing to the gang element. The larger public's hunger for gang-related clothing was just coincidence, I'm sure.

I digress from Nike...back to Tiger.

The latest stories coming out of the Tiger Woods is just further entrenching my dislike of the dude. Okay, so you got yourself a pretty blond swimsuit model for a trophy wife. So what? I'm supposed to be impressed by that? You're a rich sports hero. Like you're going to hook up with Mary Jane Rottencrotch.

But then you go around the world banging all these other pretty model/porn star types. They know you're married, but don't care. A hole in one with Tiger Woods? I know straight dudes who wouldn't pass that up.

And then when you get caught, you pull all these shenanigans. Have you heard the tape? I don't know where that came from, but that's some evil shit right there. He asks a girl to take her name off her phone because his wife found it and he might be calling her.

So the wife's suspicious (for good reason, apparently) and he thinks so little of her that he asks his girlfriend to deceive her even more. And it's such a petty insignificant deception (taking her name off her phone so it's just her number) that it's a delaying tactic more than anything else.

And now...today...there's news that Tiger is taking an "indefinite leave" from golf, an activity many people do for fun! Why? Because he made a fool out of his wife and all these other women. And himself.

Pity? I have no pity. I hope he retires from golf forever. I hope he loses all of his endorsements. (As McDonalds gives every burger flipper a raise and Nike opens a factory in Detroit.) I hope his wife leaves him and takes all his money. I hope his kids can someday forgive him. And I hope he dies, many many years from now, a bitter old man with a broken heart.

It would allow me to reinforce my already flimsy belief in the concept of cosmic justice.

You Go, Girl

Good for you.

My guess is that your hubby either thought you'd never find out (in which case he's a character-free selfish asshole) or if you did find out, you'd forgive him (in which case he's a selfish asshole and a fool).

Rewriting History

I did something today that I never thought I'd do. I deleted a couple of posts. Not only a couple of posts, but a couple of my most popular posts. (I expect my daily traffic to plummet now.)

Normally, I'm against this kind of thing, but I've had it. People searching for a certain CNN reporter can find info on her elsewhere. I am no longer the one-stop shop for all things related to the Damon that is named Arwa. (Stupid grammar used to confound Googlers.)

Not only that, but everyone who came to my blog by Googling the name (spelled phonetically) Stef-an-ee Ay-brums along with certain parts of the female anatomy?

Fuck off. Have some respect.

Even in private, I'd feel a little shame in typing "so and so's pussy" into a search box, and yet I get people every day looking for So and So's pussy or tits or So and So's bikini.

But that's just me. You know, the type of guy whose character doesn't flutter away when no one's looking.

The Idiot's Guide to Troubleshooting

Damn. First day back to work and I'm talking to an idiot. He sounds like he's 70 years old and he's in Florida so he probably is.

So he's reporting a problem. This particular problem has a few causes, the most common being USER ERROR. Being as lazy as I am intelligent, my first task is to determine if that is indeed what's going on.

After all, if it's a technical or equipment problem, I have a few things I can do to either fix it or send it to someone else who can.

But I can't fix stupid.

If you don't know what you're doing, in the words of Flavor Flav, I can't do nuthing for ya, man. That's your problem, or more properly, your boss's problem.

So starting from this "legitimate problem or incompetent fool" jump off, I asked the old guy some questions. His answers were so vague as to be meaningless.

You know you're in trouble when the guy you're speaking to says something like, "Well everything looks okay."

No doubt, bud. But looks can be deceiving. You know what? Let's go back a step. Let me ask you this: Is everything working properly? No? Then everything is not okay.

So now that we're back where we started...

What's worse is the guy was feeding me bullshit. I ask him what a little LCD window says. He tells me it says everything is fine.

No, dude. What does it say verbatim? I know it doesn't say "Everything is fine." It says something else, which you think means "everything is fine." It probably says some technical mumbo jumbo, a code of some sort followed by a message. "Ready to run" is one option. It might say something else.

But it won't say, "Everything is fine." You know how I know? Because there isn't a single piece of equipment in the world that says "Everything is fine."

Now I don't want to sound like a mean young'un, but the fact that you're telling me it says "Everything is fine" indicates to me that you're not looking in the right place...or you're not looking at all.

In fact, with these answers I'm starting to believe "user error" is what's going on here. And if that's the case...

Can't do nuthing for ya, man.

Wednesday, December 09, 2009

Bathtub Angel


This is my niece taking a bath. She came over with her brother this weekend while the folks were out doing Christmas parties. My nephew raided my MP3s. My niece made cute faces and funny sounds. A good time was had by all.

Stuff

I picked a good week to be off. It's been snowy and cold, the snow making a bike commute impossible, and the cold making a bike-less commute miserable. Thankfully, there has been no commuting during this trying time.

Word on the street is that we're going to be warming up this weekend, at least above freezing for once, so I might have missed Winter 09-10's first sub-zero blast completely.

And what have I done with my vacation, you ask? Squandered it.

Last weekend, I went up the hill to Blackhawk, got a room with my brother and cousin, and proceeded to get into all kinds of trouble. Not really, but I did pig out at the buffet, lost all my "fun" money at penny slots, and had some good laughs.

True story:

As we were preparing to go out for the night, my cousin was considering wearing his LT jersey. He said LT, and knowing that he's a Broncos hater, I figured he meant LaDainian Tomlinson, the LT that plays for the Chargers. But nope, he meant THE LT, the one and only Lawrence Taylor, the player I most idolized as a kid. My teen years were misspent as a Giants fan and it was all LT's fault!

So when my cousin pulls out a pristine Giants uniform with Taylor across the back and the number 56 in big white letters, my first thought was: I want it.

I asked him how much he wanted for it. He didn't want to sell it, but if he was, he wanted something like four hundred bucks.

Four hundred bucks? For a jersey?

He proceeded to show me that it was a Players of the Century jersey, had the official patch and everything. A jersey without that patch would cost under a hundred, but with the patch, it's special. It's a collector's item. We're talking investment material here.

But I'm not paying that much for a jersey. If it was a real jersey that LT had worn in a game, maybe...maybe. (Although I think I'd use the money to buy new tires on my truck instead.) But for some dumb jersey made for pennies in a factory in Taiwain with the super-special Players of the Century patch? Forget it. Not for LT. Not for John Elway. Not for anyone.

Here's the punchline: my cousin decided not to wear the LT jersey that night. So my brother did. And after a night of drinking free casino beers, my brother gakked all over it. The pristine white letters on the front were stained with beer puke, forever altering its auction potential.

The view from our room:

That skyscraper on the right is the new Ameristar Hotel and Casino, which is a pretty classy joint with a really good buffet. They've got rooms with spa bathtubs right by the windows. Imagine sitting in your private jacuzzi, a flue of bubbly in your hand, and looking out those windows...