Showing posts with label Venting. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Venting. Show all posts

Monday, September 24, 2007

Holiday, Holy Day?

Have you been to Wal-mart lately?

They're decorated for Hallowe'en. And have been for a bit.

Yeah, I know. Kids love the whole trick or treat thing. I did, as a child.

Not too keen on it now, though. Comes from being an old, grumpy fart, I suspect.

Still, the stores are decorating for the holiday.

And that's the rub.

Isn't holiday short for holy day?

Well, what's so darn holy about Hallowe'en?

Oh, sure. It was originally All Hallows' Eve, or All Hallows Even. The evening before All Hallows' Day, or All Saints Day.

But, in the U.S., it's now the night to dress up as witches and ghosts and vampires and monsters and such.

And, like I said, there's not much holy about that.

I wonder if maybe Wal-mart's trying to give Satan equal time to make up for Christmas.

But then, again, I don't recall seeing anything Christ-like about Wal-mart at Christmas.

Oh, well. They're all decorated up for Hallowe'en.

Yeah, maybe I'm just an old, grumpy fart. Because I don't like Hallowe'en.

Until the kids ring the doorbell.

Wednesday, September 12, 2007

Scary foreigners

In today's edition of the local newspaper, the Columbus Ledger-Enquirer, there was a letter from some fans supporting the Columbus Catfish.

Well, in the online edition, there was a comment left by someone ... anonymously of course ... who showed just how big of an ass some people are:
The Catfish are 95% players with names that end in 'EZ'

It is doubtful you'd see any of them around town, or be able to interact. They barely speak English, if any at all.

I tried to post a comment about it, but I went on too long, I suppose, because it wouldn't take it.

But, since I do have my own little blog, I can post my comment here.
> The Catfish are 95% players with names that end in 'EZ'

> It is doubtful you'd see any of them around town,
> or be able to interact.
> They barely speak English, if any at all.

Wow. Just wow.

People can think like this and still manage to breathe?

Let's check the roster, shall we?

Catchers: Nevin Ashley, Matt Spring, Craig Albernaz

Maybe you're talking about Albernaz (but it's 'az' not 'ez'). No, he's from Falls River, Mass.

Maybe you're talking about the infielders: Matt Fields, Seth Dhaenens, Brett Grandstrand, Joey Callender ... oh, here we go ... Cesar Suarez. The 3B from Maracaibo,Venezuela. Who came to this country legally. And played in the Yankees and Cleveland organizations previously.

Obviously, he's the guy, right?

Maybe it's the other infielder, Jairo De La Rosa, from Santo Domingo, Dominican Republic, that you don't like. He is also here legally, with an actual job and everything.

Maybe it's the outfielders: Quinn Stewart, Ryan Royster, Desmond Jennings, John Matulia (I hope I don't have to tell you he's from Thomaston, GA), or ... oh, here's the guy ... Maiko Loyola, from Juan Baron, Dominican Republic, also here legally, with a job and everything.

Or is it the pitchers? Let's see.

Brian Baker, Hunter Davis, Matt Falk, Woods Fines, Neal Frontz, Jeremy Hall, Jeremy Hellickson, Will Kline, Ryan Morse, Wilton Noel, Ryan Owen, Ryan Reid, Heath Rollins, Wade Townsend ... hmmm, no scary 'ez' people there.

Now, just in case you missed my point, I'm not saying "Oh, they've only got 3 players (out of 28) who are scary foreigners." No, I'm throwing numbers at you, hoping to show that you don't know what the hell you're talking about. The part about you being a bigoted dumbass is understood and doesn't need to be pointed out.

You know, if that's the mentally of the people that might otherwise go to a Catfish game, I'm glad they are staying home, watching the Braves on TV.

That way, they can cheer for Havana natives Brayan Pena and Yunel Escobar. And Colombia native Edgar Renteria. And those Dominicans, Julio Franco and Rafael Soriano. And Venezuelans Martin Prado and Jose Ascanio. And the Panamanian Manny Acosta. And that Mexican guy, Oscar Villarreal.

Gosh, I hope I haven't ruined your enjoyment of the game.

Sunday, September 9, 2007

Making change

This past weekend, I went to a ballgame in Augusta. Then stopped by and spent some time with my Big Sister and her husband, the Chief.

It was a great ballgame ... and a great visit.

We chatted. We caught up on things we haven't caught up on in email. And we watched some Star Trek. The original pilot, "The Cage".

And, after eating them out of house and home, I left to head back west.

On the way, I stopped and got gas. And decided to fill up my stomach, too.

I pulled into a McDonald's on I-16. Near Dublin. And ordered a McNuggets meal. And some cookies.

The girl on the speaker told me it was six dollars and something. I don't hear as well as I used to. But six dollars and some change sounded about right, so I pulled around.

I had to wait for a bit, while the vehicles in front of me paid for and received their food.

Finally, it was my time to settle up and get my grub.

"Six-oh-five," said the girl at the register. High school girl, maybe. Perhaps just out of school. Saturday night, so I guess she could have been younger.

I handed her a twenty, and reached into the door to get some change.

On the vehicle I was in, the door handle has a depression that doesn't go all the way through. It's perfect for putting loose change. It'll hold a dollar or more in pocket change.

So, after handing the girl the twenty, I was rummaging through the change for a nickel. Moved quarters out of the way. Pennies too. And dimes. But no nickels were to be found. So I handed her a dime.

She had already punched in 20.00 on her register and found out she owed me $13.95.

When I tried to give her the dime, she shook her head and said, "I didn't know how to do that."

She was unable to tell that if I gave her $20.10 for a $6.05 order that she owed me $14.05.

I had to keep my dime, and add 95 more cents to my stash.

I have the feeling that she'll be at McDonald's for a long, long time.

Thursday, August 23, 2007

Grave Robbers

I never met the Wife's father. He died a few years before I met her. So, I never met the man. But the whole family thought the world of him.

After all these years, they still place flowers on his grave on special occasions: holidays, birthdays, anniversaries, and any other time in between that the mood strikes.

When they bring out new flowers, they'll remove the old flowers, so that fresh ... or at least good-looking ... flowers are on his grave.

The other day, a family member went out to the cemetery for another matter. And, of course, stopped by the grave.

And that's when we found out that the flowers were missing.

Now, of course, if weather is really bad ... with high winds and such ... that can cause problems. But it usually causes several problems, not just one. And, there's been no bad weather recently.

So, looking at things, it seems that there was no natural reason for the flowers to be missing.

Which leaves somebody moving them.

And that means somebody took the flowers.

What kind of person would take flowers off a grave? I don't know. But you can find flowers at the flea market that look like they might have come off a grave. And that sickens me.

And, the thing is, this happens. A lot.

It just happened to us this time.

Monday, August 20, 2007

Daniel the Dumbass

I hate spam.

I really, really hate spam.

Not SPAM®, mind you. I like SPAM®. It's one of Hormel's fine products.

But spam, I don't like.

Okay, spam is technically unsolicited email. And I'm talking about comments (or TrackBacks) that are unrelated to the post of a blog. Like this little blog. We often, though incorrectly, call that spam.

So, it's spam.

And here's why.

There's this "Daniel" (62.22.110.34) that sends little comments out. They are essentially the same comment, with slight variation. And, by looking at the pattern, it's obvious that it's not a real comment.

For example, recently "Daniel" left this comment on my post, "Thinking Different":
I have to say, that I could not agree with you in 100% regarding Thinking Different, but it's just my opinion, which could be wrong :)

Now, there may be times that such a comment would be real. But that post isn't one of those times.

And "Daniel" sends these to lots of posts. Lots and lots of posts. And not just on this little blog, but at other blogs as well.

So, what's up?

Well, one of two things.

Either "Daniel" doesn't know much about anything ... in which case he's the biggest dumbass that every sat at a keyboard ... or he's sending fake comments.

I'm willing to agree that "Daniel" is a dumbass. No argument from me about that.

But I think he's sending fake comments, whether or not he's a dumbass.

So, why is "Daniel" sending fake comments?

He's trying to find a way past spam filters.

Why?

Well, "Daniel" knows that if a popular spam filter will let him through, he will be able to send all kinds of comments ... and TrackBacks ... to posts.

And those comments will be spam.

Yes, "Daniel" is sending pre-spam. He's testing the waters.

But Akismet, the spam filter we use here at this little blog, and that many other blogs use, catches the stuff that "Daniel" is sending.

Because "Daniel" wants to send spam.

"Daniel" is a bad person. He should be beat with a stick. Until the stick breaks. And then a new stick obtained and the procedure repeated.

But I am reassessing my opinion of "Daniel."

I'm not so sure he's a dumbass.

I think he's just an ass.

Wednesday, July 25, 2007

Who enlisted the Nigerians in the U.S. Army?

Got an email recently. You've got them before, too. The old Nigerian scam. Someone has a lot of money to move from one country to another and they want your help in making it happen.

If you haven't figured it out, it's a scam.

Well, it seems the latest version is where the scammer says he's a soldier, trying to move money out of Iraq:
Delivered-To: xxxxxxxxxx@xxxxx.xxx
Received: by 10.141.12.19 with SMTP id p19cs223757rvi;
Tue, 24 Jul 2007 18:51:49 -0700 (PDT)
Received: by 10.141.14.14 with SMTP id r14mr51231rvi.1185328309865;
Tue, 24 Jul 2007 18:51:49 -0700 (PDT)
Return-Path:
Received: from bay0-omc2-s9.bay0.hotmail.com (bay0-omc2-s9.bay0.hotmail.com [65.54.246.145])
by mx.google.com with ESMTP id b24si272194rvf.2007.07.24.18.51.47;
Tue, 24 Jul 2007 18:51:49 -0700 (PDT)
Received-SPF: pass (google.com: domain of morgan_r_eeves06@hotmail.com designates 65.54.246.145 as permitted sender)
Received: from BAY115-W7 ([65.54.250.107]) by bay0-omc2-s9.bay0.hotmail.com with Microsoft SMTPSVC(6.0.3790.2668);
Tue, 24 Jul 2007 18:50:18 -0700
Message-ID:
Content-Type: multipart/alternative;
boundary="_a4c09761-a629-46fe-aaea-5af71c0a7595_"
X-Originating-IP: [87.218.158.57]
From: "sgt. javis reeves"
Subject: CAN I TRUST YOU?.
Date: Wed, 25 Jul 2007 03:50:18 +0200
Importance: Normal
MIME-Version: 1.0
Bcc:
Return-Path: morgan_r_eeves06@hotmail.com


Hello Pal,

I hope my email meets you well. I am in need of your assistance. My name is Sgt. Morgan Reeves Jr. I am a military attache with the Engineering unit here in Ba'qubah Iraq for the united state, we have about $25 Million dollars that we want to move out of the country.

My partners and I need a good partner someone we can trust to actualize this venture.The money is from oil proceeds and legal.But we are moving it through diplomatic means to your house directly or a safe and secured location of your choice using diplomatic courier services.

But can we trust you? Once the funds get to you, you take your 40% out and keep our own 60%. Your own part of this deal is to find a safe place where the funds can be sent to. Our own part is sending it to you.

If you are interested reply to Email: sgt.morganreeves@yahoo.com.cn
I will furnish you with more details.

Awaiting your urgent response.
Your Buddy.
Sgt. Morgan j.Reeves

I don't know what ticks me off more: some a**hole thinking I'm stupid enough to fall for the old Nigerian scam, or some a**hole pretending to be a soldier.

Okay, I do know which makes me mad: the pretending to be a soldier. I wore my country's uniform, and don't appreciate anyone trying to use it for any bad purpose.

No, I don't usually post about these kind of things. Ferdy, the Conservative Cat, is all over this kind of stuff. But it just ticked me off so much, I had to vent.

Monday, July 9, 2007

Do Not Forsake Me...

I can tell time.

But I wonder about others at times.

My first job was at a small radio station in southeast Georgia. My first duties at that job was to work a Braves games.

Back then, working a Braves game involved listening on the network to ensure that everything sounded correct, then, at the right time, start the intro. When the intro ended, if everything was done correctly, you'd hear Pete Van Wieren or Ernie Johnson start their greeting, and the broadcast was underway.

You needed to be able to tell time ... and to know the correct time ... for it to work properly.

During the game, we'd have to play commercials. We had a guide that indicated which break was ours. Between innings, either we'd let the network commercials play or we'd play our local commercials. And, our local commercials needed to be either 30 seconds or 60 seconds (we played multiple 30 second commercials) for it to time correctly.

Pete or Ernie would say something like "After two innings, it's Los Angeles 3, and the Braves 1" (since the Braves were often behind early and often back then) and we'd start our commercials. After the commercials ended, Pete or Ernie would start back, talking about the first 3 batters coming up, or a scoring change, or something. The point is, if everything was timed correctly, it sounded smooth.

And, because baseball has no clock, the players wouldn't stop playing at the top of the hour so the station could give a legal station identification. No, Pete and Ernie would watch the clock themselves, and as close as they could get to the top of the hour, they'd pause for station ID. And, because it might be a sudden thing, they'd give more than 10 seconds for station ID.

After all, you could listen and know when the third out was happening, and know that they'd describe the play, and you had enough time for the announcer to give a scoring wrap (that was the cue) to have your commercials set to play. With station ID, you only had enough time for them to say "Let's pause for station identification on the Atlanta Braves radio network." And that's not long. So, the 10 second break was actually 14 seconds.

So, things sounded smoothly for station IDs and for commercial breaks, if it was done right. There was never any commercial ending, and Pete be in mid-sentence. That sounds really bad. And we didn't do it.

Why didn't we do it? Because it sounded bad. And we were professionals. $1.80 an hour professionals, but professionals nonetheless. We took pride in doing it right. And in order to do it right, we had to know what time it was, and be able to tell time.

Nothing hard, really, when you think about it. Just a desire to do things correctly.

What brings this up?

Well, apparently some TV channels can't tell time. And haven't been able to tell time for a long time.

You see, what I'm about to describe may sound like a TiVo issue, but it's really not.

A long time ago, I recorded some movie that was coming on late at night. It was many, many years ago, and I was recording it on the VCR.

Now, in order to do that, you have to have your VCR's clock set right.

Well, mine was.

If I was watching TV, and I noticed the time was off, I'd set the time.

Now, by "the time was off," I mean I kept my wristwatch the correct time. I'd take whatever steps were necessary to keep the time correct. To the second.

So, when I noticed the time on the VCR be off at all, by a second, I'd set it. And, yes, I'd have to set it about once a week. Sometimes twice.

The point is that it was never more than a second or two off of the correct time.

Anyway, that night, I set up the VCR to record a movie, based upon the information I had.

Okay, it was Thelma and Louise. Don't laugh. I had heard it was a good movie and wanted to see it. So, I recorded it and watched it.

When it got to the point where they clasped hands and Thelma (or Louise) hit the gas, the movie stopped. Actually, the recording of the movie stopped.

Now, my VCR was set to the second. Or within a second. So, I'm assuming the problem wasn't on my end.

Fast forward to 2007. Technological advances mean that we should be able to do thing even better and more efficient. Or at least, correct.

VCRs have been replaced by TiVo. But dumbass movie channels are still dumbass movie channels.

Because TiVo synchronizes itself ... including its clock ... every day. It gets data from the networks about what's playing when, and for how long. Okay, actually, it just goes by the starting times of the various programs, but determines the length based on that. For example, if High Noon starts at 11:30 and the next program, The Bravados, starts at 1:30, then at 11:30, TiVo starts recording, and records for 2 hours.

Well, on this past Friday, that's exactly what happened. At 11:30 AM, TiVo switched to AMC and recorded High Noon. And, at 1:30 PM, it stopped recording High Noon.

Since the movie is 1:25 long, it should fit in a 2-hour slot. Only, AMC plays commercials. They used to not, but have for a while now. And, they decided that for that 2-hour slot, 35 minutes of commercials wasn't enough.

You see, I've never seen High Noon. I'd seen that it was on, and had watched a bit of it, but always decided that I wanted to watch it from the beginning, and watch the whole thing. So, I'd never seen the beginning. Or the ending.

Well, this weekend, I had the opportunity. TiVo had it as a suggestion. So, we watched it.

Or most of it.

It began with John Wayne and Maureen O'Hara outside an Irish cottage, then walking the trail to the little house.

What?

Oh, that was the ending to The Quiet Man, which had aired before High Noon. That wasn't a good sign.

But, still, the movie was less than 1:30, so there should be no problem with a 2-hour slot, right?

Yeah, right.

You see, after 2 hours, when Gary Cooper picked Grace Kelly up, and a wagon pulled up, the famous TiVo "ding" happened, and we had the opportunity to keep or delete the movie.

I don't know what happened next. Did Gary Cooper say or do something meaningful? I don't know because ... TiVo missed the ending!

Only, I don't think it was TiVo's fault. The time was set correctly. It was AMC being AMC, playing way too many commercials and not being able to read a clock.

Technology is a wonderful thing. Unless you have idiots running it.

Tuesday, July 3, 2007

No Parking

Since the Catfish were out of town last night ... getting rained out in Savannah ... I went to Albany to watch a baseball game.

And I found out that, in Albany, like in many other places, signs are just suggestions for some people.

Why would I say that?



Oh, no reason.

Okay, I can't hold back.

What is it about some people that they just can't park?

Can they not read the signs?

Or is it that they think that the signs don't apply to them?

These are the kinds of folks that, if they are ticketed, will complain that the police should be doing more productive things than giving them a ticket.

Well, I think giving asses that drive and park like the rules don't apply to them is one of the most productive things folks can do.

Which reminds me of a story.

Which I'll tell later.

For now, I'll just say that some people seem to go out of their way to invite trouble. And it's often gratifying to see that trouble will often accept the invitation.

Tuesday, June 19, 2007

Big Ass Trucks

I don't like big ass trucks.

By that, I'm not talking about really, really large trucks. I'm talking about big trucks driven by asses. Big asses.

Some people are asses when they get behind the wheel of a truck. But actually, when someone's an ass while in a truck, they're an ass when they're out of the truck.

And that's what I'm talking about. Trucks driven by big asses. Big ass trucks.

Like the big ass that parked his truck in such a way yesterday that it was difficult for other drivers.

In a parking garage I often use, the parking includes parking along the outside wall.

And, at the end of a row along the outside wall, there is the corner. And then parking along the next wall.

I parked in the end space. And a big ass parked his big truck in the end space of an adjoining wall.

And because he parked on the end, and because his truck is so large, and because he doesn't give a rat's ass about any other drivers, he blocked me in.

He was pulled all the way forward. The front of his truck was as far forward as it could be.

And this big ass Ford truck driver had blocked my Chevrolet in.

Now, to be honest, there was a little bit of space where I could move.

But, if you notice, his back wheel is not entirely in his space.

And my car is entirely within its space.

But a big ass truck driver like him doesn't seem to car about things like that.

He's not concerned with anyone other than himself.

Now, for full disclosure, the Wife has a large Ford truck. But rest assured, neither she nor I -- yes, I drive it, too -- park like that big ass does. You know, a little thing called consideration.

I was worried that I would have to wait on him to move his truck before I could leave. Or the vehicle parked next to me, that was parked correctly, so I could violate that space in working my way out of the space.

But, there was enough room for me to pull out. Barely.

And only because I have the habit of backing into a space. Had I pulled forward into the space, I'm not sure I could have navigated out of it safely.

But then, again, his truck was the same color as my car.

So, had we traded paint, it would have been barely noticeable.

I wonder if he reads this, if he'll continue to park like he does. Perhaps so.

But what if he finds out that my car is paid for ... while his truck likely still has payments left on it.

And that we've been planning to replace it later this year.

Another scratch or two here and there won't make much difference.

I wonder how Mr. Big Ass Truck Driver would feel about trading paint now?

Monday, June 4, 2007

How To Be A Lesbian

No, I'm not about to offer tips on how to become a lesbian.

I don't think such things are possible. Although, not being a lesbian, I can't speak from personal experience.

But you may be wondering why anyone would write something called "How to be a lesbian."

Me too.

You see, I ran across that while going through a spam filter.

In case you aren't aware, blogs that accepts comments and/or trackbacks get spam.

That is, there are some folks that attempt to leave comments or links to Web pages for ... well, for all kind of purposes.

These comments or trackbacks don't have anything to do with the post. They are rude interruptions that are usually attempting to sucker people into buying stuff. Sometimes indirectly, sometimes directly.

Sometimes, these Websites are malicious. That is, they try to crack your computer via your Web browser.

And, there are probably other reasons that people leave spam.

But what amazed me was that I found one with the heading "How to be a lesbian."

Just who is this kind of thing targeting?

Horny teens (you know who you are) or just plain perverts (you know who you are, too)?

Or people that say "WTF?"

Or are spammers having a contest that we don't know about? Like, which spammer can come up with the most ridiculous topic for a spam session?

I just don't understand.

But then, the Wife doesn't understand why I like to watch Whacked Out Sports.

Monday, May 21, 2007

Not Me In Fact ... But In Spirit

This isn't my vehicle. Either one of them.

But I understand the blue Toyota very well.

If the picture's not clear enough to show what's happened, here's the deal.

The silver car looks like it pulled into a parking space. And into the next parking space.

Then Blue pulled in ... and nosed as closely as he could to Silver.

I'd have liked it if he'd have eased up ... touched bumpers ... then, ever so slightly, gently pushed the other vehicle back just a bit. Then, when Silver started the car and took it out of park, the car would rock back slightly.

I run into idiots like Silver all the time. And it really ticks me off. One parking space is plenty for anyone. But some people just don't like playing nicely.

If people can't drive ... and park correctly ... they need to stay home ... or ride the bus.

Asses that can't drive ... or park ... like Silver ... really tick me off. I just wish I had the guts of Blue.

Sunday, February 18, 2007

Washington's Birthday, 2007

Today is one of those days that really gets on my nerves.

Oh, not because it's the official celebration of George Washington's birthday. Because that's what today is.

But because of what some people call today. Some call it Presidents Day. Or Presidents' Day. Or President's Day.

But those people are dumbasses. Because it's not Presidents Day (or any variation thereof). But more about that in a minute.

First, I want to talk about George Washington and his moving birthday.

George Washington was born on February 11, 1731. No, that's not a typo. That's the date on the calendar in effect at the time.

You see, England was on the Julian Calendar at the time. And because of inaccuracies in that calendar, they were about 11 days off. Plus, New Year's Day was in March. You see, March 24, 1731 was followed by March 25, 1732. And December 31, 1732 was followed by January 1, 1732. Go figure.

So, anyway, when they got around to adopting the Gregorian Calendar in September, 1752, England ... and her colonies, including those in the Americas ... found that September 2, 1752 (Old Style) was followed by September 14, 1752 (New Style). And that New Year's Day had moved to January 1. Which meant that December 31, 1752 was followed by January 1, 1753.

For George Washington, that meant that the realignment of the calendar meant that February 11, 1731 O.S. was February 22, 1732 N.S.

And he kept that birthday for a long time. Even after he died.

Then the U.S. Government got involved.

The first thing they did was actually okay. In 1879, they made Washington's Birthday a federal holiday, to go along with New Year's Day, Independence Day, Thanksgiving, and Christmas Day.

All the various federal holidays were celebrated on the actual day being observed. That meant on weekends sometimes, and during the middle of the week sometimes. And they said it cost extra money for a federal office to take off in the middle of the week. Plus having a Wednesday off between other weekday workdays limited families doing things.

So, in 1968, the movement to change many holidays to a nearby Monday really took off. And in 1971, Richard Nixon issued Executive Order 11582, making the third Monday in February a holiday: Washington's Birthday.

In the late 1990s, that whole Presidents Day thing really took off. Lots of wrong things happened in the late 1990s, so that shouldn't surprise anyone.

Still, today is officially Washington's Birthday, and is not and has never been President's Day. Take a look at United States Code (5 U.S.C. 6103) and check out the third holiday listed. Oh, and Snopes backs me up on this, by the way.

Anyway, lots of people and lots of places (actually, people at those places) call today "Presidents Day."

I go to the bank, and see signs about Presidents Day. I turn on the TV and see a Presidents Day commercial. I hear folks on the radio talking about Presidents Day.

They're dumbasses. But they can't help it. It's too much trouble to take the time to get things right.