The Night City Chronicles

Episode 50: The WM3 Case (It Ain't Over Til It's Over)

2011-08-20T15:47:00.002-05:00

August 19, 2011.

Everyone mark that date on your calendar because it's the day when The West Memphis Three, Damien Echols, Jason Baldwin and Jessie Misskelley Jr. finally walked free from prison. This freedom comes after 18 long years since their convictions. For anyone who reads my blogs or the WM3 website or even if you've only recently become acquainted with the case, this particular case defined a generation or two. It received national attention after Joe Berlinger and Bruce Sinofsky's 1996 documentary Paradise Lost: The Child Murders at Robin Hood Hills.

Originally airing on HBO, it was marketed as another in the long line of hitpieces that were famous in the late '80s to early '90s during the "Satanic Panic" era. Those of us into wearing black, listening to metal then (that seems tame by comparison now) and practicing an alternative religion in a place where it isn't popular were now in complete shock and terror. Those of us who watched realized that these three things were all that was needed to establish a motive for murder whether it was done or not. It also didn't matter how flimsy the evidence was, we could all be painted as the evil creatures hiding under your bed, ready to eat your souls at the drop of a pin.

We all watched the emotions of every family involved. We all understood their anger. We understood their pain. We understood that lives were destroyed across the board and there was absolutely nothing that would change it in the least.

The documentary films opened the window for supporters across the nation. Before the second film, Paradise Lost II: Revelations aired on HBO four years later, a movement had begun. It began to pop up on Court TV, MTV and many other media outlets all over the country. Once the second documentary aired, it was full-blown and hundreds of thousands poured on the support, trying to get Damien, Jason and Jessie new trials in an attempt to prove that these three were not responsible for the deaths of Christopher Byers, Michael Moore and Stevie Branch.

In November of 2010, the convictions had been overturned and Judge David Burnett could no longer preside over the case. At the time, the only news available was that there would be something of a hearing in late 2011.

The Free The West Memphis Three movement got a surprise when on August 19, 2011, news spread like a sewing machine needle; fast, hard and continuous. They were free. Damien was off of Death Row and his impending execution would never happen, Jason and Jessie were also released from prison and all three had been reunited with each other and their families.

How did it happen? It's a tactic rarely used in the legal world called an Alford Plea. The plea itself is a guilty plea in a criminal court. Specifically, the defendant still asserts his or her own innocence and does not admit the act. Under the Alford plea, the defendant admits that sufficient evidence exists with which the prosecution could likely convince a judge or jury to find the defendant guilty beyond a reasonable doubt. Under this plea, Damien, Jason and Jessie were released from prison due to having time served. They were also sentenced to a suspended sentence of 21 years in prison under a 10-year probationary term. No travel restrictions, no supervision.

What this means is that they can now continue their investigation without having to worry about how long until the stays of execution on Damien Echols run out. The Three can continue their investigation with resources far more vast and at their disposal than they were while they were in prison. They still have the ability to clear their names and can have the conviction expunged from their record.

I heard about the verdict on the train to work. I felt like I'd been hit in the chest with a wrecking ball. Many of us were emotionally invested in this case and the question I posed to a friend of mine via phone was "What will we do when it's over?" It was a question I didn't think I'd ever have the answer to. I still don't.

My generation was a generation of people growing up pre-9/11 without a Great War or a Great Depression to define us. Thanks to this case, many of us learned a lot about how the law works and what our rights were should we ever find ourselves accused of anything. We had three men to whom we related and it scared the hell out of all of us. I can tell you firsthand that, while charming, the South does have it's mindset and you're not changing it anytime soon. Most of us that grew up outcasts and socially rejected by our peers found ourselves with a purpose and for all of us within the movement, whether we simply bought a t-shirt or donated money or even just wrote a letter or two, all the way up to the ones who tirelessly worked like crazy, getting advice from attorneys, raising money, writing songs for benefits and performing them at those benefits. Ladies and gentlemen: Mission Accomplished!

Some supporters and detractors alike agree on one thing; Justice Was Not Served. Now, there is the likelihood that the murderer or murderers of these three 8-year-old boys will never be brought to answer for the needless extermination of life that had been committed. Three men whose lives were destroyed have to start over from scratch to rebuild their lives and fences still have yet to be mended properly.

Now I can agree with both parties, it's jacked up. I, however, take a different approach and it's like this.

1. The entire movement was The Free The West Memphis Three movement. That was the name, that was the mission and I'll say it again, Mission Accomplished.

2. Putting myself in Damien's shoes, if I were given the ripcord to that parachute would I have pulled? You're damned right I would have. When Damien said it wasn't hard for him to make that decision at the press conference, I could tell he wanted to laugh at the issue. I would have too. If you have to ask me whether it's harder to open the chute or have that sudden impact of the ground at the end, then you need to take up skydiving and even then, I doubt you would have the understanding it takes to make an educated guess on the subject. Jason even said that he wasn't happy about taking the plea but he did it because, he knew if he didn't, his friend would end up murdered by the state.

3. All three are free. Again, Mission Accomplished. Now the work can begin to clear their names and guess what? I'm wearing my WM3 dogtags until their names are clear. I'll have that release date stamped on them (and can anyone tell me who does that?) but I'll keep going Until Their Names Are Clear.

4. Going back to my previous point. If you're a supporter, you're either in it for the long haul or you're not. The movement got them free, now we have to ensure true justice is served. It's really simple. I don't like how it happened but I'm happier that three men wrongfully convicted are back with their families and their loved ones. The prosecution's grid was smashed...we won. Now we take the battle full force to where it truly needs to go. Investigate, investigate, investigate, people. Now we can figure out just who murdered those three second graders without having to worry about whether or not someone else will be murdered in the process.

5. Our legal system is so far from perfect that it is pretty sad but hey, let's consider something for a moment. This case broke some ground. Rather than moving onto the next big thing, let's give this even more focus and try to perfect that legal system of ours. It's not perfect, probably never will be but we damn sure can ensure that this doesn't happen again. Let's start minimizing the mistakes our legal system makes and stop letting our apathy and complacency maximize them.

Ladies and gentlemen, as Yogi Berra was fond of saying, "It's not over til it's over." For Damien, Jason and Jessie, the nightmare of the past 18 years is finally over but for the families of Christopher Byers, Michael Moore and Stevie Branch, it still carries on. If our concern was for finding who did this, then I think we owe it to those children to intensify our efforts and continue our support with the intensity of Darth Vader on a meth bender and the focus of Kwi Chang Kane in his zone after a nice hot cup of ayahuasca tea. Face a fact, if you sacrifice a finger or two, you can save the hand. Lose a battle and you can win the war...pick your overused cliche' now but whatever the case, we have another mission to fulfill and I say it's high time it happened.

In the meantime, though I had put my blog on hold for awhile, I felt it was important to post this instead of droning on about my typical day-to-day and for Number 50, no less! I'm also taking care of a friend's blog while she's away and you can check that out at Texas Tammi's Blog.

For those regular readers of my blog, I apologize for not writing up any more articles as of late but, rest assured, I'm writing when and where I can. Normally I'd close this with my Free The West Memphis Three "battlecry" of sorts but instead, I think I'll close with the following:

The WM3: Free At Last!

Episode 49: No Quarter Asked, None Given

2011-06-09T22:23:00.002-05:00

Author's Note/Disclaimer: After having read the articles from various sites, I have elected to post my own blog on this matter. This particular event is the type that does get under my skin and inspires me from time to time to actually put something on record about it. Comments are welcome, however, Freedom of Speech is limited to Adults who can act like Civil Adults. Should you decide that namecalling or ad hominem attacks on other posters is something that you're more into, proceed no further and leave now. If I read snark or any other type of negativity in a post, implied or otherwise, it will be deleted upon first contact. Post your own blog elsewhere if that's what you want. Simply put, I will let you post and discuss but nothing more. There will not be a war here.

Cruising through Facebook on my phone earlier tonight when I had a spare moment, I came across a blurb written about a fellow Louisianian who decided to shake some trees and rock some boats.

Damon Fowler, if you Google his name is being hailed as an "Atheist Hero" for standing up for his own beliefs.

The story here is that Fowler was about to graduate high school and, prior to the graduation ceremony that takes place at the end of every child's permanent end of his adult-imposed academic career, threatened to have the ACLU file suit on his behalf if the prayer was not taken out of said ceremony. This event happened in none other than Bastrop, Louisiana. Since then, there have been claims that students have threatened him with physical violence, he was supposedly belittled by a teacher and his parents have disowned him.

So what happened? Well the Atheist community stepped in and took "poor" Damon in, welcoming him with open arms. Now, they hail him as a hero.

*Insert Record Scratch Noise Here*

...not so fast.

First, let me list my own qualifications. Formerly from Louisiana having been removed for only two and a half years, I can honestly say that I know where Damon is coming from. I can identify with the guy but before I go there, allow me to say that I was actually part of the status quo at the time. I grew up Catholic, later converted into a Baptist Church. During that time, I was osctracized by my fellow students and some teachers because of three huge, glaring facts. I grew my hair out, I wore black because I still, to this day don't want to spend my time wondering what color shirts match X Color pants or shoes and I committed the huge no-nos of playing Dungeons & Dragons, listening to Metallica, Megadeth and Anthrax. I too have been threatened with physical violence and sometimes, it wasn't just idle threats. I went through my own period of my musical tastes becoming darker and darker as well as my perceived sense of style. I lived in a town far smaller than Bastrop and played with fire, figuratively speaking, by openly wearing baphomet t-shirts on a regular basis. I've been in some pretty hard knock-down, drag-'em-out fights that bordered on Deadly.

I could ask where my articles were hailing me a hero for the disenfranchised or the different but I'm willing to concede that I was, most likely, a victim of my own time period when the internet and social media weren't as pervasive as they are today.

The point...well, it's the same point Denis Leary once made when he said, "Hey, life sucks! Get a fuckin' helmet!"

Let's go for a minute on this unconstitutional train of thought for a minute, shall we? As most who know me know, I actually worked in a state prison for the better part of a decade. We had one Atheist officer there who regularly would converse with me. Not because I was Atheist myself but because, unlike most, I was an Asatru Pagan. That's Norse Mythology for the uninitiated (i.e. Odin, Thor, Loki, Fenris). During roll call one evening, our Captain decided to lead us all in prayer. The Atheist officer became infuriated. He addressed it with our Captain at the time and decided to drop my name into the mix. Those I could trust with my spirituality, I did with the understanding that it was kept amongst ourselves. No outsider knowledge. Kept us all very polite on the job and kept a mutual respect going. I hope you've been paying attention because this will come up again. If not, read this last paragraph carefully before moving on.

That night, The Captain did make an apology toward me, bringing up that he had spoken with this Atheist and that he felt as though he may have offended me. I found the idea humorous and assured him that there was no offense taken on my part. Carry on, El Capitan, I'm all good.

The Atheist made repeated calls to my station that night. At first it was urging me to join in on his petition. Toward the end of the night, it bordered harrassment. I lost a lot of respect for the man that night. I didn't feel slighted in any way, shape or form. During the prayer of the Christians, I noted that perhaps they might have felt as though one god was enough but I was calling in reinforcements of my own. As far as I was concerned, we were going in and I would definitely need Odin and Thor's help that night. I may have very well been right. As far as I was concerned he had no right speaking for me. I have a mouth. I have a mind. Both of them are mind and I am able to make them function in unison. I had no qualms about telling him he was on his own and had been since he dropped my name rather than approach me with a rational argument first.

He won on his little petition and found himself working towers or the front gate because no one wanted to work with him. In an environment such as the one a prison presents, respect is everything. I may not like the person I have to work with but if I don't respect him, then I'm losing valuable support in a time of crisis and vice versa.

Seems like I'm digressing? I'm not. Patience young Skywalker.

So, I've suffered backlash as did the officer with whom I worked and young Fowler here.

Remember when I mentioned Baphomet T-shirts? Sounds kinda odd for a Norse Pagan doesn't it? Well that's because later, I converted into the LaVeyan form of Satanism. I followed those teaching pretty closely. I mean it was pretty easy to do. It was Atheism Roleplaying with Archetypes. Secular humanism live action roleplay is what I've come to call it, in grim retrospect. I also had the angry attitude that went with it.

The point here is that none of the above helped my situation at all. Keep in mind, once it's locked into the minds of small town folk that you're up to something, the old saying of "where there's smoke, there's fire" applies whether it's true or not.

Now, in my current age, I find myself a little more level-headed than before. Since I've moved out of Louisiana and out to a somewhat more populated area, I find that I can still dress the same way and no one dares bat an eyelash at it because there are people here dressed in more extremes than I'll ever have the want or desire to meet. In fact, here, I'm normal. When I tell my story, I get more laughter than ever. The comment that draws the most laughter is when I call that small town Darwin's Waiting Room.

So now that I've fully qualified myself on matters of religion and standing your ground, I have this to offer.

Damon Fowler is no hero. Not at all. I know that you may applaud him and I am one to encourage anyone to stand up for what they believe in or don't but allow me to appeal to the mind of a rational thinker.

We can sit here and argue right and wrong until we're all black and white and red all over. We can duke it out verbally and it won't change a single thing.

When it comes to nature and the law of natural selection, we can always see one thing ringing true without controversy. That one thing can be summed up in seven simple words.

Being Right Is Not A Bulletproof Vest.

Damon felt that he was right to stand up and point out what was actually codified law and I can concede that but Damon overlooked something more important that propagating this species. Damon, did you bother taking into consideration your survival?

If you subscribe to the thought process that Damon sacrificed everything he had for what was right and true then I have this to offer.

First, five years out of high school, no one gives a care in the world what you've done or haven't done unless it made you a sports celebrity.

Second, the whole thing might have taken five minutes and then everyone could have gone on with their lives

Third, No one ever stated that anyone had to join in the prayer. You'd have been well within your rights to admire a nearby bird if it caught your eye.

Fourth, it's pretty obvious that, if God truly does not exist (or a multitude thereof) then these people were happy to make fools of themselves for a moment praying to the air in the sky. Is that really that painful?

Fifth, Look around. If you can honestly say that you didn't expect this type of backlash in the Buckle of The Bible Belt then your perception of your environment was so heavily skewed from the beginning. The only one suffering from that delusion is you.

I will concede that the reaction to this event may not be right but have a little observational awareness here. Certainly, any rational person wouldn't march themselves into a minefield without any type of training and not expect to get blown up. If you're of the mind that the mines shouldn't blow up when you begin stepping on them, you don't deserve my pity and you certainly won't get me hailing you a hero. Any rational, thinking human being would have simply grown up and let it go, take it to court later or just take it to court. No kid's games of, "I'm gonna tell!"

Why do I refuse to call him a hero? Look, don't get me wrong, I respect that he believes he did what he thought was right but I'm not about to genuflect here. Simply put, if he is surprised at the blowback, then obviously this wasn't very well thought out in the least.

I back anyone's right to do as they see fit. If you see a wrong and you wish to right it, by all means, go for it and go for broke but look at your environment and ask yourself if it might not be a little more wise to formulate another plan of attack. If you choose to run into the minefield with no training, go for it, young man but don't count on me to come pull your legless shell from the field when one of those things explodes...you're on your own.

Let's go back to where it seemed like I was digressing. Was I well within my rights to openly flaunt my alternative beliefs at the time? Yep! Should I be able to do that without harrassment, Oh yeah, absolutely! Was Damon right in the legal sense? Yep. Should the school have simply backed down gracefully and realized that Damon had them in a legal checkmate? You bet. Did any of what we did help our respective situations at all? No. Not saying it's right but it's one of those things that both of us should have been thinking about. We set about on paths when we're young and stupid and we don't think of the consequences. Kid, sorry about your damn luck but hey, join the club. You don't whine about your station and I damn sure don't see any groups coming after me to bang down my door making retroactive reparations or even paying lip service to my former plight. You did this in Louisiana. You made your bed. It might suck but you'll have to sleep there.

As Carlin once put it, we all have a basic survival instinct and this survival instinct is far more important than procreation. Just like when a Gazelle runs like a PCP-feuled funny car driven by Cruz Pedragon on a NASCAR speedway when a lion is chasing it, it's not shameful to take stock of your situation. Don't take my word for it, read up on Sun Tzu sometime or Myamoto Musashi for a little insight on survival. No one ever intentionally puts themselves in harm's way unless they know there's a higher than likely chance upon which their lifestyle will be infringed.

In the case of my former hometown of Natural Selection Waiting To Happen, Louisiana, I rolled the dice and left. I took a huge risk and yes, it was thought out and calculated. It was also called crazy but it happened. Now I fly a middle finger in their faces proudly as the East Coast accepted me with open arms. Still, if it's one thing I know it's that I'll just leave the mutants living there to their business; no quarter asked, and certainly none given.

Episode 48: The Cyborgs Take Detroit

2011-03-20T18:36:00.002-05:00

Detroit obviously has a crazy awesome heritage. I mean this one city in Michigan has given us lotsa really good stuff. Ted Nugent, just about every car imagineable and Insane Clown Posse, just to name a few. Don't even start bugging me about Eminem because I just don't give a shit.

But let's face it, Detroit has become run down. The manufacturers of cars are losing out big time and unemployment is only growing, all over the place...what else it new?

So a group of citizens banded together and made a decision, why not a statue of Robocop?

That's right, Robocop. Dead-Or-Alive-You're-Coming-With-Me Robocop.

Why? Well, why not?

I'm all for striking pants-shitting fear into the hearts of willful criminals everywhere. Maybe it might be a little frontier for most but why not a cyborg armed with an automatic pistol and an accurate-as-fuck targeting display that means he don't need no steenkin' sights on the damn gun? I know if I shot something and the goddamn thing didn't drop and nothing was doing the trick, fuck it, let's roll the dice in court and see what comes up. Robo just shows that if you can't dazzle them with brilliance, you riddle them with bullets.

Let's take a look at the life of this bad hunka steel and flesh.

Born Alex J. Murphy, he transfers to the roughest precinct in Detroit. Obviously, in this scenario, Detroit really went to hell in the absence of the Motor City Madman and Chuck Norris and ol' Murphy thinks he's got what it takes to kick some ass, take some names and restore Detroit to it's former glory. A few problems existed.

First, he's got a gum-chewing partner without sense enough to use a fucking gun to stop the people shooting her partner.

Second, you never face an armed gang alone. You call for backup.

Third, I don't care if you are a cop, padding does not count as body armor

Fourth, you're driving a Ford Taurus. Surely Detroit could have put something better than that on the streets.

So Murphy bites it in the most horrible way possible and what happens?

Enter Omni Consumer Products, henceforth known as OCP, the corporate entity aiming at building Delta City. Just one problem...

Alex J. Murphy. Remember that guy? Yeah he just got his balls blasted off for his bravery and not even a fuckin' funeral. So that kinda shows you that these coke empire-running assholes have the city. These guys are out there robbing banks, blowing shit up and peddling drugs to everyone including Robin Williams, their best customer.

So with the asshole gangs running shit and unemployment skyrocketing, there's only one solution. Get the cops to clean up the streets, right? Fuck...that's right, OCP owns the cops and the number one rule of any business is to make money, not spend it. OCP has held back their own police and now, some corporate chucklehead wants to unleash his unholy hell-raising machine ED-209 on the streets. Problem, in a product test presentation, ED-209 blasted one guy so badly that even God said, "Dude! That was fucked up!" Then some younger corporate yuppie starts in on the CEO about his creation...Robocop.

The idea is a good one. Take a wasted cop, pop some new parts onto him and voila! You got a cop that doesn't have to worry about benefits, what his pay's lookin like or even retirement. Isn't that nice?

So that program is implemented and becomes a success. Murphy's back on the street and unlike most drunks, he's bulletproof...he still drives that fucking Taurus though. At some point though, while ED-209 was more efficient, Robo has that human brain thingy which is far more advanced than any computer. It also has a memory storage that still stands unrivalled and so when recall happens...it's a bitch. And that's what happened to Murphy. All the memories start resurfacing and then, it happens. Bill Gates shat himself, Steve Jobs started pissing iPods and Robocop went absolutely bugfuck. No one could fix this. How would you like to realize that you were human and now you have a bulky as shit body that barely anything will support and every footstep sounds like a front-end loader from Aliens? Yeah I'd be pissed off too.

One by one he tracks them down. Fuck due process, your rights and motherfuck your goddamned attorney, this thing packs a gun inside his fucking leg! What's your attorney packing other than a bad case of constipation. Oh and did I mention the spike that looks like a middle finger? Yeah, a pop out USB plug just wouldn't seem as cool, I think.

Robocop has one minor problem. After he fucks off the Constitutional rights that most accused parties don't even know they have, he tracks down the kingpin; the creator/presenter of ED-209...and he can't do shit to him.

See, OCP has programmed Robo with three prime directives.

1. Serve The Public Trust
2. Protect The Innocent
3. Uphold The Law...give or take due process at tracking down and capturing your own murderers.

But there's a fourth one that completely kills his whole Robovibe...He cannot arrest any employee of OCP.

Complete diplomatic immunity. Nevermind that he's also killed the guy who started the Robocop project or that...ohhhh...yeah, he's running the coke operation, completely negating the Delta City project.

Unfortunately for that guy, he's fired by the CEO and Robocop gives him a taste of his own medicine...by pulling the ED-209 routine with him, leaving Robo and the rest of Detroit PD to clean up the city of crime and allow OCP to build Delta City.

Ummm...no. Not only no but HELL no.

Enter part two. Now there's a designer drug called Nuke on the streets and it's being manufactured by Cain, the leader of a cult surrounding this drug. How do you spell Whack-A-Mole? So Robo's on his mission to get rid of this drug and the whole works. Meanwhile, he's also got OCP's bullshit along with the corrupt politicians in office AND NOW Detroit PD's on strike. I kinda thought a corporate-owned police force would have had that bit ixnayed but I could be wrong.

Let's make a long story short, shall we?

OCP wants a new model of Robocop, since their last one performed a self-jailbreak and decided his human side was what he really wanted to go with. Oh they patch that and Robo performs a hard reset...by grabbing two really fucking big live wires. Look, OCP...he hacked HIMSELF! Nothing you do is going to stop that. He did it once what makes you think the new patch is going to take?

The new model keeps up with epic fail time and time again. So that's when some new blood in OCP decides to use wasted criminals instead of wasted cops. Cain nearly gets waxed by Robo and she finishes the job while Cain's incapacitated in the hospital. Cain proves to be anything but a Robocop 2.0...he's just a bigger, badder robotic version of his own drug-addled ass.

So now it's Robocop and Cain for another round and, true to form, Robo wins but not without the help of his friends at Detroit PD. It's not exactly a spoiler there, there was a third film not worth mentioning and a series on TV that made Robocop's footsteps sound more like a garbage can was being slammed around.

So with those kinds of insumountable odds and two self-hacks to his own programming...why not a Statue of Robocop?

Robo only proved one thing about Detroit and I'll end my sermon with this....

Tough Times Never Last...Tough People Do.

Burning At The Stake: The Stop Bullying Campaign

2010-10-21T21:29:00.003-05:00

I want each one of us reading this to close our eyes and think...not now, Geez! AFTER I post the first part, mmmkay?

Okay...get this locked into your mind. Remember the time you were a kid. There was always someone shoving you, punching you in the shoulder, wouldn't leave you the hell alone and just plain, mean-spirited. Maybe their old man kept bullying them but whatever their reason...they decided that YOU looked like an easy target. Maybe they took your lunch money. Maybe they kept pantsing you in gym class. It doesn't matter what it was they did, you know one thing...it was wrong.

Now, think of all those feelings that you experienced. Remember the pain, the shame, the humiliation and the anger. I know that's a lot of negativity.

Now close your eyes and think on it awhile and when you open your eyes...scroll down a little further...

Ready for the good news...You're Still Alive. Maybe you're a tougher person because of it. Maybe you, whatever the case, YOU got past it and it's over. Isn't it?

Yeah we were all bullied at some point and I've taken my pledge to stop the bullying but let me tell you how I, The Genocydal Maniac is going to do it. Let's run down the list, shall we?

No, wait...shit. I shouldn't start with that, should I? Nah. Let me take you through the anatomy of a bully. I'll show you what it is. I'll take you on a guided tour and I won't get fancy with it. I'm sure Misty can give you the psych profile of one of these assholes but I'm not so forgiving with it so let's go with part one.

Anatomy of A Bully:

A Bully is about the same as a Terrorist, A Criminal, An Extortionist...it doesn't matter what you call it. They all want only one thing, Control over YOU and your actions. That's pretty much it. A bully will do any and everything to get that control...until they start running into serious trouble getting what they want. A bully wants it easy and they won't try taking it if it isn't easy.

Wasn't hard to figure out, was it? Pretty easy to understand. They're scumbags. They're lower than swine. They're filth. They are absolutely, positively...(damn, how can I put this) fucking shit and they'll garner no sympathy from someone like me.

Now...I come with a plan. I'm not here to sit here and just rant about problems, I came to offer solutions. Before I reveal my plan, I'd like to identify a problem.

You see, bullies also do something else. Sometimes, they'll start by suggesting that you do what they say for the good of everyone else. Oh it's sooooo much better if you just don't say things that you have a right to say. Oh, it's not good for you to say such negative things about someone or it's never right for people to ask YOU to give up your power but, isn't it funny that the Stop Bullying Campaign promises to do just that. Don't believe me? Let me show you how this campaign asks you to handle bullying from Their Own Website!

How to deal with bullying:

Tell your parents or other trusted adults. They can help stop the bullying.
If you are bullied at school, tell your teacher, school counselor, or principal. Telling is not tattling.
Don't fight back. Don't try to bully those who bully you.
Try not to show anger or fear. Students who bully like to see that they can upset you.
Calmly tell the student to stop...or say nothing
and then walk away.
Use humor, if this is easy for you to do. (For
example, if a student makes fun of your clothing,
laugh and say, “Yeah, I think this shirt is kind of
funny-looking, too.”)
Try to avoid situations in which bullying is likely
to happen. You might want to
Avoid areas of the school where there are not
many students or teachers around.
Make sure you aren't alone in the bathroom
or locker room.
Sit near the front of the bus.
Don't bring expensive things or lots of money
to school.
Sit with a group of friends at lunch.
Take a different route through hallways or
walk with friends or a teacher to your classes.

...are they serious? Do they honestly think that any of this will work? I can tell them from experience...it won't make one iota of difference.

I could run down this litany but let me sum it up. You're running around ducking places and paths that you have every right to walk through. You are restricted. You aren't going places or doing things or enjoying life because, in order to stop the bullying...this group believes you should give them what they want.

Well, I'm here to tell you if you give them an inch, they will take a mile. Sure, this group may be well-intentioned but understand that once they encounter resistance, they will resort to bullying themselves, making those that will not conform out to be bullies themselves and possibly even nothing more than primitive brutes.

Allow me, The Genocydal Maniac to lead this gang of thugs, ruffians, scum and villainy by presenting my master plan for A Genocydal World Order.

First, walk where you want...when you want.

Second, fear no one.

Third, take up a tested and proven course of study in self-defense. Pick the most brutal and vicious and easy-to-remember techniques...and never hesitate to use them when you find yourself confronted by a situation for which there is no perceptible way out. If there is no alternative, make sure...make damned sure that they never forget that they dealt with an explosive and unstable package. Make sure the scars they bear remind them each and every day of it.

Fourth. NEVER let ANYONE take YOUR right to anything. You have rights...exercise them on a daily basis.

Fifth. NEVER let ANYONE CONTROL YOU. Simple as that. The very moment someone wants control of your life, question it and question it fully.

Sixth. Remember that Bullies do not have control of their own lives...what makes you think you'll benefit from them controlling you.

Seventh. Remember that when you are in a state of terror or fear you will do things that you otherwise wouldn't do. If you won't do it when you're not under duress, don't do it when you are.

Eighth. Give a bully hell every time you encounter them. I'm not saying do it unprovoked. But the first shoulder check you get...give a full reciept. Next time, if they're not crossing the street when you walk their way...something didn't gel in their minds the first time.

Ninth. Think of bullies like a cancer. How often does cancer just go away if you ignore it?

Tenth and final. Consider all avenues. Yeah, I'm talking the Stop Bullying Campaign's suggestions, mine and anyone else who might have survived one of those experiences and do one thing....Find What Works For YOU and stick to it.

The number one secret to winning any fight you might find yourself in is just not to get into one in the first place. If you can't get out of it by avoiding it...Show them Hell and Show The No Mercy.

Episode 47: Lock N' Load (Matt Hardy And Other Musings)

2010-10-20T20:35:00.003-05:00

I've been burning quite a bit the past few days. No, not out of anger at the world of sports entertainment but because of a fever brought on by one hell of a virus. The virus is gone but it's effects are still being felt. Give ya an idea of how bad it is...I'm on a friggin' inhaler but that's helping me like nobody's bidness so let's get on to bidness shall we?

Five days ago, Matt Hardy, one of the most daring and sick wrestlers (I use the word "sick" in a double entendre...you can figure out which two) I have ever had the pleasure of watching was officially released from his WWE Contract.

I have only two words for that: Thank God!

It's about time they quit shelving the guy. I mean, seriously, did the WWE think they could just keep him mid-carded and happy? No doubt, Matt's had plenty to thank the WWE for but I am not so forgiving. Matt has shown himself far more than capable both on the mic, cutting promos that range from hilarious...to downright disturbing and in the ring. I hope you didn't miss the feud between Matt and his brother Jeff at WrestleMania XXV. Matt showed the world that, while adoring his fans, he could be a believable villain. Did I say believable? I'll be honest, I thought that Matt and Jeff were on the outs...permanently. I watched the news for something of a courtroom battle between Matt and Jeff through TMZ that might involve tables, ladders and chairs. That rivalry had only one word to describe it's proportions; Biblical.

I'm digressing big time here. Now there are people screaming at him to head over to TNA. Chill out everyone...might be a little too soon. The guy got himself whipped back into shape and has basically rebuilt himself and called the Six Million Dollar Man a "wimp" while smirking at Chuck Norris in true trademark Matt Hardy Style in so many actions. Let's hang tight a little bit. I think Matt's earned the right to hang back. To be honest, I completely dig checking out The Hardy Show on YouTube when I have an opportunity. Why? Well you get to see these guys without all the Hollywierd crap surrounding them. You get to see the Hardy Boyz for who they really are, a couple of brothers who have obviously come up with a strong bond with great friends surrounding them. For Matt and Jeff to have allowed fans an all-access portal into their lives...that's a pretty big honor.

Matt, I'll be honest. Whatever you decide to do, if the IWC says it's wrong, chances are, you're on the right track.

I have a couple things to say to the IWC...and they are as follows:

Okay with that out of the way, let's bring up another point of contention that I'm having.

Let me make one thing perfectly clear. I don't care what you do. You can do whatever you have to and I can choose to support it or not but Linda McMahon is taking flak for the WWE's scandals and now attacks are being made on the WWE? I might be from Louisiana, and I might be from a culture steeped in the supernatural but I think even Nostradamus could have predicted in all certainty that this was going to happen.

I'm not standing up for the WWE. Sorry, that will not be happening. The McMahons don't need us. I don't live in Conneticut, I wouldn't vote for Linda if I did and I think the company coming under fire is only one thing....a long time coming.

Before I go any further, understand WWE Superstars. I see talent running all through you. My issue is the writing is terrible and all the storylines have become glossed over crap since the Attitude Era. I understand it's all PG now and that's not my beef with it, I feel I've covered what my beef is in past articles but understand, I follow a majority of you on Twitter, I'll support YOU guys but not your company. Linda's move was bound to draw all kinds of opposition and the thing that each of you could do...the smart thing...is turn up the heat. Step up your games. If the writers will allow you to do that or if you decide to go off script, you might have a prodigal fan returning. Understand that you will share this fan with TNA and that's non negotiable.

Finally let's sit down around the campfire for a moment because that's the last bit of burning my pneumonia lung is gonna let me.

Misty and I were sitting here talking and, let me tell ya how weird life can be, she voiced what I've been thinking. Does anyone who reads this remember when you could hit a Dollar Store for all kinda snacks that were bad for ya? I'm tellin' ya a Dollar General might as well have been named Stoner's Paradise. I say that because you could walk in with five bucks in your pocket and walk out with enough snacks to completely quell a case of the munchies for three days after a good smokeout. Then again, if you were just into comfort food...that was the place to go.

Think on that one awhile...what were your favorites?

Burning At The Stake: Joey Styles

2010-10-11T21:02:00.002-05:00

Joey Styles, for the uninitiated, was the color commentator for the original ECW Televised matches. He's irritated most everyone around him including Executives at the WWE and has actually had the nerve and gall to quit, stating that he hated sports entertainment in general AND criticized the WWE over their "lack of wrestling."

Tonight, he posted the following on Twitter:

"Zack Ryder reminds me of MTV's Jersey Shore. By the way, who do you think is dumber, Jersey Shore's Ronnie or whomever writes TNA?"

For anyone who's bothered reading and actually comparing facts, I'd consider this rich coming from someone like him.

Styles has officially lost all credibility with me. For anyone who thinks that this guy might have retired, I beg to differ. He's been under contract with the WWE as Director of Digital Media Content and he hosts some ECW Throwback show on WWECLASSICS.com. His contract is due to expire in November of this year.

My advice, Styles, have a little pride and dignity...do the honorable thing...bow out and let your contract lapse.

Styles, the fact of the matter is that whatever sport you follow, whatever team, whatever player, whatever the stats...it's for one thing...entertainment. If you're so bothered by sports entertainment then you have no damned place in the WWE and I'd be willing to bet that you applied to TNA and they rejected you. So you got spurned, suck it up and be a man and rise above it. Fact of the matter is that you lie time and again and I can't fault anyone for being loyal to money but what I can fault is someone who lies about it.

Styles, what you have done is cheapened sports entertainment and having the gall, the nerve to say that TNA's writing is dumb? Comparing it to anyone on the Jersey Shore? Are you serious? The WWE is only a superior product if you're a kid and last I checked, I just celebrated a birthday...number 32. That means I'm an adult. I can handle violence and for you and Vince McMahon to continue to look out for my sensibilities by assuming that I will just keep chasing a polished turd makes you the worst kind of offender. Have you guys been having board meetings with Steve Jobs? I've noticed a lot of Apple Computers hanging around the sets prior to my walking away from WWE altogether and vowing to myself to never lay eyes on that pile of monkey crap again.

Styles, not that you'd listen as is habit with most of the names in the WWE that aren't in the ring
but when the fans aren't happy, pretty soon, the company will begin to fail. Those that are sitting there just nodding and agreeing with you, guaranteed, never bothered with the WWF during the Attitude Era. You have customers and you're in a unique position to at least make an attempt at making them happy but I know one thing, your constant potshots at TNA mean only one thing...TNA is what it is...a genuine threat to the WWE. Sure the venues are smaller but they emphasize quality over quantity. Make sure that gets back to Vince. Taking a million-dollar shit doesn't make it stink less and the stink's name is Joey Styles.

Episode 46: Tonight The Heavens Revolt!

2010-10-10T22:31:00.002-05:00

Now that is what I'm talking about. I have to admit that today at work passed pretty damned slowly. The anticipation was killing me. 10/10/10...the date that "they" would be revealed, at least that's what Abyss promised. This is the date that Sting and Nash stated over and over again that Hogan and Bischoff's true colors would be revealed and I have to tell you...even I could not have predicted the outcome. I'd never put the two together and I'll be damned...even my man Jeff Hardy turned heel. Even though I'd successfully picked the winners of every card, I didn't do so lightly, there were many surprises in store.

Reading up on my Wrestling World News app, Ric Flair says that TNA has another year before it finally takes off. Sorry, Ric, I beg to differ. With quality entertainment like this, it's hard as shit to imagine that it will take any longer than that for TNA does any better. Hands down, it's far better than the bill of fare (or lack thereof) that Vince McMahon seems to think we want.

Vince, it's time to take out the notebook and pen because TNA just took you back to school, son. The Pay Per View event Bound For Glory was exactly what the WWE's PPV Events damn well should be. There was havoc, mayhem and carnage tonight. I'm talking full-throttle, balls-to-the-wall, no bullshit ring full of awesome and you had better believe that it's been a long damned time since I have felt like a kid again watching this event.

Even Dixie Carter had only one word to post to Twitter in response to tonight's PPV event. And that word was "Unbelievable."

Unbelievable doesn't begin to cover it, sister.

Still, Dixie, you and yours have set a very high standard in the world of sports entertainment and take it from Vince, it's one that's very easy to lose if you start compromising where you shouldn't so let's hope and pray that the TNA Company's darkest days stick around. By that I mean dark sets, dark characters and a whole lotta shakin and kickin going on.

Dixie, you keep this up and guess what...I'll keep watching. Chances are, you might even make a full time customer out of me.

First, let's start with the Motor City Machine Guns vs. Generation Me. Jesus Jumped-Up Christ, what a match! Call Daytona Beach Airport and tell them the momentary radar blips are real but they are in fact, human bodies being thrown about like frogs on mescaline. These guys barely touched the damned ground. Okay, they did but only to launch. In the end, after a grueling match, the Machineguns retained their titles and Generation Me's sense of entitlement got it's dick knocked into the dirt.

Second, The TNA Knockouts (Women's) Championship match. It was a four way between Tara, Madison Rayne (who's become a screaming psycho lately), Angelina Love and Velvet Sky. Watching this might as well have been entitled Male Geek Masturbation Matchup. Lemme tell ya, with Mickie James in the ring as Special Guest Referee...this whole thing could have ended differently but surprise, Tara won the title dethroning Angelina. Sorry, ladies but I am a total Tara fan. Now when it comes to Mickie going up against Tara...I gotta side with Mickie.

Third, did you catch the match between Ink Inc. and the team of Eric Young and Orlando Jordan? What the hell was I watching in that match? Eric Young can't seem to decide who he wants to team with. To be honest, Orlando Jordan is starting to unnerve me. Orlando, there's being openly bisexual and being creepy. You decide which one it is, really but I'm leaning more toward the latter. Might wanna focus less on what you wanna wear to the ring tonight and get your partner straight...I hope that last statement made sense.

Fourth, Fourtune got their asses handed to them in the Lethal Lockdown match with EV2.0 and all I have to say to that was I was bouncing around in joy at all the stuff getting destroyed.

Fifth, Abyss...it was your last match with TNA. Seriously, you couldn't have won that one? How's your nugget BTW? Oh yeah, one other thing, I was rooting for Rob Van Dam the whole F'n Time.
That match featured even more destruction and let me tell you it was like watching the final two humans on Earth vying for control of the universe. Looks like Rob got the universe in this match.

Sixth, Jay Lethal defending his X Division title in a match not even I thought he would win. That was probably one of the roughest matches I'd ever seen in my life. Everything went fine until Robbie E. and Cookie aka The Shore stepped in. Apparently they had to infuse two douchebags claiming to be from Jersey. Dixie...next time, just start a Real Housewives division.

Seven...The Big One. This is the seal that was cracked and there was a silence in Heaven. Jeff Hardy wins the TNA World Heavyweight Championship Title and turned on his longtime friend Rob Van Dam and got all chummy with Hogan, Bischoff, Jarrett and Abyss? What is this? The Rebirth of the NWO? As Ed Lover would say...

C'mon Son! Get tha fuck outta here with that bullshit...c'mon son!

And finally...Jeff Jarrett left Samoa Joe...his tag team partner, helpless to fight against Nash, Sting and The Pope? Jesus! But at least we see that The Wolfpack weren't bullshitting about how backward Bischoff and Hogan were.

You can catch TNA Impact and TNA Reaction Thursday Nights on Spike TV at 8pm EST. Forget Monday Nights....Thursday Nights are where it's all at now.

This Is Only A Test

2010-10-01T16:08:00.001-05:00

I'm turning over a new leaf and attempting to blog from my fuckin' phone. Cool, huh?

Published with Blogger-droid v1.6.1

Episode 45: TNA Chain Reaction

2010-09-30T22:24:00.002-05:00

Hi, Folks. That's right...it's me on another burn but this time, I'm on the aim for TNA (Total Nonstop Action) Wrestling.

Don't get me wrong, I still prefer TNA over WWE because of it's sense of realism and the way that it's presented. Though you know it's a storyline and it's scripted, you damned sure can't tell but there are a couple of issues that I feel the need to address. I've kept it bottled up but now, the pressure's built and it needs to go somewhere.

First, let's address Hulk Hogan. Obviously, he's aired his dirty laundry all over TV. His family's broken up, his son's in jail over a reckless street racing incident and, back in January...he made his debut on TNA. Let's get one thing straight. Anyone who's ever worked with this man can tell you that he's his own commercial empire. I can't fault a guy for making some serious cake by being the best at what he does but what I can fault is this anti-hero routine that he's been espousing lately. The "Take Your Vitamins/Say Your Prayers" Hogan of the '80s is obviously gone but what I'm not buying is this whole Man In Black/Weathered Hero act. Kevin Nash, Sting, DeAngelo "The Pope" Dinero, and even Jesse Ventura have had the same stories time and time again. Hogan, many of us have known for years that you're all about chasing the dollar but to piss down our backs and tell us it's raining...that's the real insult.

Second, Eric Bischoff constantly standing next to Hogan...do you see the surprise on my face? No. Wanna know why? It doesn't exist. Until WCW was turned over into the not-so-capable hands of Vince Russo, it was a successful entity. Guess who was at the forefront of that game. If you guessed Bischoff and Hogan...well you'd have nailed it better than a sniper with a good spotter. These two took a team called The New World Order and became bad guy rock stars. They made a hell of a lot of money off of it. So it's only natural that these two are hanging together.

Now...let's wrap these two up. To have the nerve and gall to tell people like Kevin Nash and Sting that they have to step aside in order to give the younger guys the push because they're the next generation? Hogan, Bischoff, get real. Hogan you haven't left the lens of a camera since the 1980s and I'm talking the early 80s. How many movies? Reality shows? WrestleMania appearances? And Bischoff...didn't John Cena get rid of you from the WWE? Come on guys, the two of you telling Nash and Sting that their careers are over can be summed up in three words. Pot, Kettle, and Black. It's like Keith Richards telling kids that they shouldn't do drugs. Do you really think the fans are buying it? As a fan of TNA, I must request that you take this brand of really crappy dialogue to where it really fits...The WWE.

On to the TNA Management. I want to know one thing...what the hell were you thinking. Back in January when Hogan's face was plastered all over every ad about TNA, I rolled my eyes. I'd have watched it for it's unique octagon ring. I'd have watched TNA Impact for the new blood being infused. I'd have watched it because it's a superior product. Why Hogan and his sidekick? Why bring in the two men who didn't have the sense to keep WCW in the black where it belonged? Did TNA seriously need a celebrity infusion? You already had it. Seriously, Hogan's in such terrible shape with his back that it's not funny. He obviously can't wrestle or he'll end up crippled but you really wanted to hire him in order to just talk smack and "brother" the crap out of us? Not to mention, the completely questionable calls that Bischoff's been making lately? Come on. TNA is obviously a superior product, but it only takes a lethargic combination like Hogan and Bischoff and a lukewarm story dressed up with eyecandy to turn it into the next episode of WWE Monday Night Raw.

Now, let's get onto a few more items. TNA, listen up and take notice because here's what you're getting right.

EV2.0...Tommy Dreamer, Rhyno, Steve Richardson, Mick Foley and Brian Kendrick. Talk about action. Vince McMahon, it may be "blood-soaked and tawdry" but it's genuinely entertaining. These guys have been through ECW (Extreme Championship Wrestling) back in the day before the WWE turned it into another tepid brand. All of these guys have suffered some of the most horrid injuries that one can imagine. Think of what it would be like being handcuffed to the ropes, and then smacked with one of those metal folding chairs. Yeah well these guys endured crap that would kill a terminator and guess what....they're on contract to do it all again. TNA...good move. Not so sure it's a good move on the part of the members of EV2.0 but to a bunch of masochistic wrestlers, I'll back 'em. They either love pain or they're nuts...probably one and the same anyway.

The Special Matches. I actually got to see my first Ultimate X Match. I have to say that it was refreshing as hell to be able to see a steel cage match, The Ultimate X Match, An Extreme Rules Match (Take Notes McMahon) and a host of others as main events. Having an occasional special match type really makes things interesting and, no, a wrestler taking out a computer masquerading as a General Manager doesn't count. By the way, a huge thanks to Adam "Edge" Copeland for taking that storyline down a notch by smashing the computer. My only question...what the hell took you so long?

TNA Reaction. Sometimes, a main event doesn't fit nicely into a small little package. To pull a page from the WWE simply won't cut it and once you've televised it, turning it into a dark match (a match that isn't televised) simply won't do anything for your ratings. To actually have a show that will bring resolution and give us backstage, candid interviews with these guys is simply awesome. We get a look into what's happening in the locker room and that part is what really counts. We see the levels of respect or lack thereof that these guys have for each other. We don't have to wait to see these guys give a bunch of bullshit lines in the ring inside a bunch of drama that can only be matched by something on daytime TV. If I want that I'll just watch Springer.

These are only three of the many reasons I consider TNA to be a superior product but let's keep the good stuff going and kick the Pot And Kettle act out.

Episode 44: Burn Baby Burn!

2010-09-21T17:17:00.002-05:00

I feel I've held my tongue long enough on these subjects so let's go ahead and get started.

First, I've voiced my disapproval of the direction that the WWE has taken as of late. We've been subjected to crappy storytelling, worse writing and a host of indecisive, idiotic, glossed-over crap while Vince McMahon lines his pockets with the money of the fans. Though, I'm willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. His wife's running for Senator of Connecticut I doubt he's had time to really pay attention. The fact that his Mr. McMahon villain character has been retired (or has it?) may be the reason we haven't seen him in forever. Focusing a little more on the wife than your business, Vince?

Let's run down the litany. Maybe you're a little too busy, Vince, but I have had the opportunity to steal a moment here and it's something my wife has come to know and love so let's keep mine happy, okay? She's ordering your Pay Per Views and I'm paying for them so as long as I'm pumping money into your company, let's get things on track.

Firing Serena Deeb because she didn't keep the Straight Edge Gimmick going outside of the company. Are you serious? Are you going to be letting The Undertaker, The Dead Man Walking Himself, go because he's not really dead? Are you going to be letting Kane go because he's not a demon? Perhaps we should let go of Rey Mysterio because Oscar Guttierez isn't exactly "Mysterio" is he? I know what he looks like under that mask. Go look at some old WCW footage if you doubt me.

Second, Mike Mizanin...Really? He gets a bigger push than Daniel Bryan? Are you serious? Daniel Bryan may not have a personality. He may not even look like someone that you'd think would be a wrestler but he's proven himself time and time again in the independent circuits for the past ten years and trained by none other than Shawn Michaels, you'd think he'd get a little more respect than that. Now that Bryan is the United States Champion, you actually think we're going to put up with Mizanin's antics and his temper tantrums? Mizanin, your Mr. Money In The Bank, go after the WWE Championship. Do you really want to defend two titles at once? Really?

Third, Michael Cole turned into a total douchebag. I remember back in the day when Jim Ross announced with Jerry Lawler. Lawler would make off-color comments while Jim Ross did his job....commentary on the match and calling it down the middle. His comments were always neutral. Lawler, a former wrestler, wore the douchebag mantle better than anyone. Jesse Ventura did the same with Tony Schiavone on commentary. Rein him in because suddenly, Cole thinks he's gonna be the next T-Shirt on ShopWWE.com for Pete's sake. His constant kissing Mike Mizanin's ass had me so disgusted I went and fired up my Nintendo DS to play a few rounds of Pokemon....at least there is entertainment value in that. Another thing about Cole's latest uberdouche turn; Did I order Night of Champions this past sunday or a male version of The Fuckin' View? Bryan was right about you, Cole, you really are the Poor Man's Jim Ross and not even the poor man wants to claim you. If you need a reminder of your humble beginnings, I remember Triple H and Chyna nearly pulling your underwear up over your head during the Attitude Era. Must have had your shorts in a wad ever since.

Finally, The Nexus. Jesus H. Christ, Vince, didn't you hold a contest called NXT Season 1? Didn't Wade Barrett win? Then what are the others doing in the WWE? Barrett, true to form, got his title shot and blew it so why are the others still riding his coat tails as some team of supervillains? I'll let you in on a little secret, Vince, I've always called them The First Season Losers or Barrett And The Hollow Threats. It's time to let the others go or give them contracts and give the fans a damned good explanation of what the hell you and the WWE were thinking.

At the going rate, the WWE is in worse shape than Chris Farley's ass. Too soon for that one?

On a good note, I'm happy to report that Ron "R-Truth" Killings has a new single/Theme song...which had Eve Torres shaking her ass to it. That's a little more than I can say for John Cena. Come on, I like John Cena but the superhero theme has to change some time. He's changed his shirt more than he's changed his theme.

Now, let's move on to more pretentious corporate types in the news.

Steve, Steve, Stevie Jobs...what the hell were you thinking? I've got more bones to pick with you and you just keep giving me ammo on this one so let's see what Apple's CEO has been up to lately.

Awhile back OS4 (Operating System Version 4 to the non-initiated) was introduced. It was announced that some devices weren't going to be able to use all of the features. The new operating system for iPod and iPhone called for Multitasking, Folders to organize your apps and finally....backgrounds. Imagine the let down when I upgraded and only got the folders. Not even a background, Stevie? No? Not one?

A blogger called him out on this one to which he replied that he and his tech team were having issues with it on the so-called "Older Devices". I don't know about you but I have an iPod Touch third gen and it ain't a workin'. Fail....epic....fail.

Well, Steve, you've done one of two things and I'd like to know which it is. So let's go down the short list, shall we?

First, you lied. You and your tech team aren't having issues. You simply refuse to take the time and energy necessary to give the best product support you can. Why not take your time and actually churn out something that might convert the unconverted?

Second, if you aren't lying and your tech team is truly having issues....then you've admitted that you and yours are incompetent. Why do I say that? Because I'm an honest man, Steve and I don't sit there trying to hack my product to make it do shit it's not supposed to do. If you and your team are having issues, the Jailbreakers have long since figured it out, consult them and let's clear up the confusion.

Then, there was Steve's Messiah Moment where he tried to put on his Mask of Goody Two Shoes +2 but his dice roll was botched worse than that of a gambling addict who swears to his wife that he can get the house back. Sorry for that Dungeons And Dragons reference but hey, we're on nerd topic here so keep up.

Stevie thinks that if you want porn on your mobile device, you should buy an Android phone. Why? Because he says that Apple has a, "Moral Responsibility" to protecting it's consumers.

From What, Exactly, Steve? Steve, are you aware that I can load just about any movie or photo onto my iPod and recall it at any time? I actually watched Hostel (Both of them) on my iPod and learned that there are things you can't unsee...even the second time around. What the hell else is going to upset my sensibilities at this point.

Steve, here's how it breaks down. You make device and market device. I purchase device and I decide my content, not you. If you can't take the heat, get out of the damned kitchen. Fact is, this "Moral Responsibility" you're talking about is the weakest excuse to simply be a tyrant even further and attempt to decide MY content for ME? A Grown Adult? Steve, I can access porn sites from my iPod and if I feel like punching the clown while I do it, I'm not leaving that decision up to you. Like it or not, unless you wanna take that Moral Responsibility full on, and believe me you don't want that in the least, then I'd suggest you remain a neutral party in this neighborhood.

Thank God Stevie Jobs was here to save us all from Mother Nature, huh?

The winners of the Sanctimonious, Pretentious Asshole Tag Team Award....Vincent Kennedy McMahon and Steve Jobs!

Now, let's go to the Divas Entry...That's right, I'm now gonna pick on The Real Housewives...of New Jersey.

I used to be a fervent Team Danielle supporter but now I find my support flopping back and forth worse than Brett Favre trying to figure out how retirement works. This show is like a damned train wreck. You don't want to watch. It sickens you to look at it. It's repulsive to see people acting that way but your only other option is what? Jersey Shore and Snookie?

Ladies, none of you are without fault in this bullshit now. Let me illustrate.

Danielle, I have to agree that you were wronged with the book thing. Manzos, if Cop Without A Badge didn't strike you as a title more pretentious than Steve Jobs' self-proclaimed "moral responsibility" then I reserve the right to think that you bought into the sensational nature of the book by cashing in all that you had in all of your accounts. Simply put, all anyone had to do was go to Danielle with this book and consult with law enforcement. Caroline, you said on TV, on the record that you host those little soirees of yours every year in support of law enforcement. Did it ever occur to you to ask how one becomes an informant and just how serious that matter really would be? No, of course not. I'm guessing that you've had no ties whatsoever with the world of criminals. Here's my free lesson.

First, it doesn't happen out of the kindness of anyone's heart. It only happens when someone gets caught up in some serious business and they want to wash their hands of it. They could lawyer up, keep their mouths shut and take their chances in court. Or...they turn narc. If they turn narc, it's not without a price...they're in pocket for good and if they ever get out of pocket, you better believe that the police will not hesitate to move in to make sure that the sins of the past haunt them. Shame on you guys for not even bothering. You took the bait hook, line and sucker and circled the wagons and created a monster.

Danielle, I have to say this. You might have been wronged by the Manzos but that doesn't give you the right to claim that you're a changed person on TV and then entertain thoughts of actually going to crash a party where Law Enforcement is hanging out. I'm thankful your daughters are the voices of reason there.

By season two both of you were at fault and no one was innocent. Sorry but now, I'd rather distance myself from each and every one of you. Something each of you should do from each other and spare us a third season of meaningless and trivial crap.

In other news (yeah I'm done burning here) I finally have some good news. My XM OnyX Radio came in today. The bad news is that the first song I heard was Dangerous Toys' song "Sportin' A Woody." Fuck My Life.

Episode 43: Let It Roll

2010-09-17T19:00:00.002-05:00

It's been a while, I know. To all my readers who have been wondering, "Just where the fuck have you been?" Just know that I got in a little bit over my head. The new store still has me busting my ass and there's just far too much drama there. So what have I been doing? Looking for and being rejected by other jobs. I know, fucked up, but hey...it is what it is.

Kinda thought that the big one had come for a minute. About a week and a half ago, I was approached at work as I was breaking into a round of over-the-top celebrity impressions and things like that. You know, the crap I do just to make people laugh. Naturally, I was given a card and my phone number and stuff like that was taken. Talent scout, maybe? What could they really do with my phone number and the fact that I did internet radio for awhile? Nothing. So anyway, I thought, "Yeah, right, I'll probably never hear from this again." I was wrong.

As I was driving home, I got a call and the appointment had been set up in Philly for my next day off. Needless to say, I didn't know what the hell would happen. All I knew was that I had been given instructions. First, dress was business casual...for me, that meant black suit and red tie. Second, check out their website. I know you'd like me to list it but I won't publicly because what comes next is something I still haven't made up my mind on yet. I'm still leaning toward that the offer wasn't legit but, understand that before I go any further on this one, all I have is what I'm relating to you and what problems I had with what had happened

Okay, so I filled both criteria here and I go in. I'm an hour early and for anyone who's had to use metered parking...that's a bitch because you have no idea how long past that appointment time you're going to go. As it turns out...it wasn't that long. Once my appointment came up, I was sitting in a room with all these other hopefuls there and that's when the head of the company came in and basically laid it all out. This is an agency that makes the following as their claim. They put you in front of Grammy and Emmy award winners, producers, agents and some of the top people in the industry of modeling, music, acting and areas of that nature. Basically, they connect you with people. You get to meet the right people and then...it's up to you. But it happens at a private event and then, it's up to you to get yourself rocking and rolling. Okay, now I'm down. Here's the catch...you don't buy a seat...it's earned.

Well if it's one thing and one thing I do well...it's earn things. Look, just today, I negotiated myself into a fuckin' X-Box when I've had no real desire to own one and that was fuckin' easy as hell.

Okay, so I get my choice of interview times...for the next day. I have to work but I mean, shit, this looks full of more promise than what my job's offering. I make calls and arrange for me to get off at 1pm instead of 5pm. Nice, huh? With no coverage...that's fucking fantastic.

Now...let's go back. Mission: Accomplished.

Okay so now I have two things I have to do.

1. I have to come up with ten things that make me as a person...unique.

For those of you that don't know me this is true...you love me or you hate me. No in-between. You can get to know me pretty well within the first hour of meeting me. By then, you've come up with a list of shit that sets me apart from everyone else you've ever met. They can be positive or negative.

2. I also have to come up with a paragraph of why this agency of sorts would benefit me and how I could benefit the company.

No problem there.

I got home...and drew a fucking blank. If I had time, I'd have hit up some of my friends here but I'll be goddamned if they didn't throw this one on me quickly as shit.

Now, here's what I got accomplished by four in the morning.

I actually came up with that list. I wrote a page. I got a title sheet for the demo disc. Yeah, I took one of our best shows and burned a fuckin' disc...and listened to that show from a critical standpoint. Good stuff at the time I'd recorded it but from a critical standpoint two years out...there are things I'd definitely do differently now.

I figured here was my "portfolio" of sorts.

When I went back, I was amped. I was ready to put it all on the table and say, "Okay, here it is and here's what I want to do with it."

I got into the place and, again, early as hell. I was actually in the middle of reading Neuromancer on my iPod and I got in to see them early again.

All they asked to see where the four pictures that I'd brought of me the night before. The entire time. I mean I also looked into photographers for headshots and shit like that but not one ounce of the homework I'd been assigned was ever requested. That bothered me later.

They had two events and this was the bomb that got dropped...it was gonna cost me nearly $2k...and a deposit of almost $500...due today. Shiiiiiiiiiiiiiit. Needless to say, long story short...wasn't happening.

I left but I wasn't unhappy with the end result. The weather was nice, I had half the day off and overall....the day just worked out for me somewhere.

I went to work the next day and the damned iPod's Coast To Coast AM podcasts had run out. Now, I'm without anything to listen to except the sound of the engine of the Cruiser and that's when the questions began popping into my head.

Why didn't they ask for the work I'd been given to do? I don't feel the need to be checked on everything that I do and I don't need approval but, look, if you're assigning me tasks to see if I'm good at following instructions, then at least have a look. Why? You're asking me to prove myself and if you're not going to pay attention to it...then let's not waste each other's time.

Why wouldn't they just tell me what's going on in advance? I mean, there's nothing wrong with telling me what I can expect. I might come back the second time around, I might not but at least I will be prepared. If you don't let me prepare, I can't help you.

Why would they need money up front when they just got done telling me to never pay up front and that I'd have to earn my seat at this event? I see that my definition of the word "earn" greatly differs from their own.

Why did they insist that Google was not my friend? Would Bing be a better search engine for reputable agents or casting calls?

Questions like these were killing me. I wanted so badly to start beating my path to the bigger and better things I know I have in store for me but, as Ozzy once said, "You're either in or in the way."

While these questions bothered me, I ended up showing up for work about an hour early. I had nothing to do and boredom meant that those questions would torment me until I answered them. That's when I decided to do some research when I got home on this place. Then the thought hit me, "Hey genius, you have a fuckin' Droid Phone in your goddamn pocket. Do a fuckin' Google search!"

Well it answered one question...seems Google isn't their friend. The first five links were people who have sued this company and won or those who've researched the company to find out it was a scam. There were the occasional people in there stating that they really got on the fast track to always having work with a decent agent in their pocket but those were so few and far between that I've decided to close the door on that company for the time being. I'd need far more success stories from people who have actually used their services before I shell out a damn dime.

So, with no money to give them...if they were indeed a group of scam artists...I could not be scammed. If they're legit then I have to point out one thing...keep this one in mind.

These people made the claim that they have an success rate of 90%. Here's the problem. The way it was presented is that I'm put in front of people who know what they're doing. Then...it's up to ME to do the following up...

Okay so if I'm one of the successes...they claim me as part of that percentage? What happened if over 50% didn't bother following up? Would they then claim that less than 40% of the people make it because they fail to follow up and that this business is only truly for the strong? No. Let's not misrepresent the fact. The fact is if you have a success rate at all it's because you've done the work. You've found the work. You're an agency now. If that's not the case...then perhaps 90% of the people that go through you make it work out for themselves. You don't have a success rate.

Simply put, you're not taking the credit for my work. I'd appreciate being connected by you guys but I'll be the one doing the work. That kind of screams a huge misrepresentation of a fact

So the next step is definitely going to be find a reputable agent and possibly get some head shots and get the ball rolling.

I'm not really sure how to end this one. I don't know how to lower the landing gear and guide this one in for a smooth landing. It's kind of a first for me.

So that's how it's been for me. I hope you've enjoyed it and I hope that it sheds a little light on things.

That's all for me.

Thanks everyone

And Goodnight....

Episode 41: Here Come Da Pain...

2010-06-01T22:40:00.002-05:00

Okay, I'm pretty sure we've all seen Scream once or twice but I feel the need to revise and refine Jamie Kennedy's Rules of Surviving A Horror Film.

You see The Kennedy Rules were great for surviving classic films but now we have a new era and new "monsters" and thus, we need new techniques for survival of such films. So let's get started.

Rule #1: Don't Trust Anybody.

No bullshit. Alliances are fleeting in a horror film and, if you're the token black man in a room fulla white people, you're in an essentially unique situation. You shouldn't trust anyone because there's not a damn soul trusting you. If the situation were reversed, ask yourself how much of a help the white computer nerd is going to be. If you answered nada, you'd be right to use him as bait. Might want to show your inner "Rampage" Jackson really quickly. Unleash your inner Bad Motherfucker so that you become indispensable and therefore, not expendable. Create a safe opening and get the hell outta Dodge.

Rule #2: Drugs, Alcohol, Sex And Treachery...Don't Use Them

You drink, snort, mainline or smoke any substance, you're going to die. Why? Well it's not so much a moral statement in a movie but consider this, when you're fucked up, you don't react to that big dude with the crazy eye carrying a hook on the end of a chain. He's going fishing, you're the fuckin' fish, understand?

You and that hot blonde gonna get it on? Yeah, she's gonna die a horrible death on top of you and then, that crap about her only weighing 120 lbs is going to be really evident once she becomes dead weight (no pun intended) and you are left a sitting duck. Hope you got that workout in, sport because you're gonna need it.

Thinkin about screwing the group to save your own ass? Oh hell no. You just left the protection of the group and now, you're fresh meat for the grinder. You're gonna end up someone's secret ingredient in that Texas Chili Cookoff. The only exception to this rule: If you're the black guy in this movie...then, do it at your own peril.

Rule #3: The Gun Stays

Okay, let me tell you one huge, important rule. If someone manages to find or make a weapon, especially a gun, it stays. If you feel the need to have a moral discussion about it remember that you are in a shit situation and your granola-eating ass has two options; try to reason with the monster that doesn't understand pity, compassion or remorse or get behind the dude with the gun. It's that simple. I know, I know, you don't wanna stoop to the level of the monster but you're not in a situation to decide that. Remember one thing, Live today, confess sins tomorrow or die today and take it up with whatever afterlife you may believe in. If you're the black guy...get your hands on the gun ASAP. If you need an example, try the latest House on Haunted Hill.

Rule #4: No Body, No Death

This applies all in the monster's world. If you don't see a body or at least you didn't witness the sociopath getting his ass blown to pieces by military ordinance, then he's not dead. Running won't help you. Changing your name and the like will only help you run below the media's radar for awhile but not permanently. Guess what, Mr. Chainsaw-Wielding, Puppy-Killer will hide in a bowl of rice if you happened to move to China. Go to Russia if you feel the need to, but I'd watch your next bite of the Borscht.

Rule #5: No Side Missions

Never decide to split from the group to go find that hidden vault of what the fuck ever. Allow me to illustrate. If you have the brains enough to go seeking out a huge cache of cash, don't you think for one second that the psychopath that's been LIVING there MAY have found it by now?

Rule #6: Don't Take Any Fuckin' Chance In Japan

I can't stress this enough. Japan's cars are better than ours, Japan's technology is better than ours. Their cartoons are fucking universes ahead of ours. Their game shows are something from an alien planet and, be goddamned if their monsters aren't fucking weirder than ours. Memorize all the rules and go easy on the sake when in Japan, okay? Language barrier gets broken by just understanding you're about to die when you see some chick in kabuki corpsepaint.

Rule #7: Hostels In Europe Are Not To Be Trusted

Okay, so it's actually Thailand but still...watch anywhere rich pricks like to gather dressed in leather aprons and stay the fuck out of those places. Welcome to the business of Murder For Hire. What it comes down to is a buncha pricks who have more money than God all bid and the highest bidder gets to do the dirty deeds....guess who they're bidding on? You...yeah. They're bidding on torturing and killing YOU. Got that? Okay...gooood.

Rule #8: When The Going Gets Tough....

Don't start shitting your pants, begging and crying like a little bitch. Start swinging, clawing , biting and digging into soft spots, especially the eyes. Look, if your "monster" doesn't have big, leathery wings and fangs and fireballs for eyes, then it's probably human. Just dig in and don't let go. Just make sure the asshole picked the wrong damn victim.

Rule #9: Never Turn Your Back On The Doorway.

Okay, look. It's dark. It's open. You're standing in the light. That's big time trouble. What this means is that you can't see the killer but he can damn sure see you.

Rule #10: Sequels Exist For A Reason

Look, we've seen the examples. Truth is way stranger than fiction and, in some instances, brown trousers moments happen to the same people over and over again. If you need one glaring instance then remember that there is a case of one man getting struck by lightning SEVEN times and lived to tell the tale. So it's not beyond reason that the killer may come back anyway...and go for some "unfinished business" with you. Pay attention to the granola-eater and keep in touch with the black guy...either one of them perishes after survival. Get ready for war.

Today's horror flicks now features the worst monsters ever...they're like you or me and the biggest problem is that they have a bit of intelligence and they still can't be reasoned with so we need a new set of rules to combat the problem. Follow these rules and you'll survive. Keep following these rules and you may even get past the sequels.

Episode 40: Number One Contender

2010-05-21T21:38:00.003-05:00

Right here, right now, I'm going to make a very important announcement to all of you.

As of today...I am announcing myself Number One Contender for the World Heavyweight Title.

See, CM Punk likes to talk about how Straight Edge he is and I have to say one thing...he's right. It feels pretty good. I barely drink, I don't smoke and each day, I'm attempting to make more conscious decisions regarding my health.

Why do I think I'm qualified? Because, like it or not, I am. The day the WWE lost Owen Hart was the day I lost someone very near and dear to me to a horrible drug called heroin. I'll never forget it. That day will forever be burned into my mind and, after well over ten years, that day still messes with me. There are still a lot of mental scars that will probably never go away and, in a lot of ways, I still feel like it's something I could have or should have stopped. No matter what I think I could have or should have done now, and hindsight being what it is, what matters is that I'm here now. I'm all that's left of that time and moment in it. Since then, I've been through a lot and the victories have been few but they've been epic in scope.

I spend each day trying to get people close to me to kick that addiction if they can because, well, I want them to wake up and feel like I do. There's really no feeling like it in the world.

Recently, I snagged an app for my iPod that tells me how long it's been and how much money I've saved. The money saved in just a couple of months brought to mind a replica of the WWE World Heavyweight Title at a little comic shop in a mall close to me.

I've made my decision to stay off the crap for life and on May 23, 2011, my decision will have led me to that title and I'll spend a small fraction of what I've saved in a year to snag it.

Why the World Heavyweight Title? Because fighting the monster known as addiction is one of those Iron Man Matches. It's a Hell In The Cell. It's a Steel Cage Match. It's an "I Quit" Match. It's a First Blood Match. It's an Extreme Rules Match. It's all of the worst and most grueling matches ever devised by humankind. It's the one match where rules don't apply. It's one of those By Any Means Necessary Matches and if you don't take it seriously and you don't prepare and get yourself ready for the inevitable victory...it will end the other way.

That is why I'm the Number One Contender. That's why I deserve it. I'm going to hang that thing proudly on my wall, right above my monitor and every damn time that Bloodsimple song "Dead Man Walkin'" plays...damn right...that monster will know it was me that did it. I did it for the friend and confidant I lost. I did it for Misty's mom who we lost two days after my birthday and for the dad she lost less than six months after that. I did it for their memories and, most importantly to tell that monster YOU MAY HAVE TAKEN THEM BUT, GODDAMMIT, YOU. WON'T. TAKE. ME.

Every victory will be decisive and instant.

Every year passed with loss will be unleashed.

Every night that nightmares played behind my eyelids will be the undoing of that monster.

The best part is...the monster is already undone. On May 23, 2011, the final nails in the coffin will be pounded in....hard.

But that coffin won't be mine.

"It's all about the game...and how you play it,
It's all about control...and if you can take it,
It's all about your debt...and if you can pay it,
It's all about the pain...and who's gonna make it...."

-Motorhead "Time To Play The Game"

Man on Fire: The WWE Becomes The WTF?

2010-05-17T22:07:00.002-05:00

I've come to accept that the Attitude Era is over.

These days, I see that half the roster of wrestlers that I remember are gone. Many of the ones that are left aren't spring chickens anymore and the younger ones just aren't as controversial and now, the ones with whom I'd grown up have their kids wrestling these days.

But I have to ask Vince McMahon one thing. Is this the WWE or the WTF?

I mean, seriously, what the fuck? Am I going to have to watch football for some entertainment value?

Here's why I'm burning...the total shit writing. I know it's scripted. I don't mind that but look, what happened to the controlled chaos that even made me believe at one point that maybe the WWE had something different than just what I saw in the '80s. Reducing DX to a couple of pitchmen and a midget was pathetic. Now, even the bad guys have a long list of accolades that used to make up the heroes. What? Really? Are you serious?

So actually having standards is a bad thing? Is this really what you're trying to convey to fans?

Case in point: CM Punk and The Straight Edge Society.

Give me a break, Vince. Even YOU should have spotted this writing SNAFU. CM Punk, a man who doesn't smoke, doesn't drink and doesn't do drugs. Where's the problem? Well there is the overbearing nature of his character along with the newly-found god complex. Vince, you obviously have missed something very important...the fact that people that drink, smoke and do drugs will now do them twice as much and twice as blatantly. I've even given consideration to smoking again when he went on his tirades. Is this where you're going with it? If so, congratulations, you now have tobacco companies in your back pocket.

Case in point II: The All American American Jack Swagger.

Jack Swagger has a list of accolades far too long for me to list, though he'll be more than happy to list them for you ad nauseum.

Vince, seriously...why is this guy supposedly a villain? Whose decision was this one? The guy's a former Eagle Scout for fuck's sake! As proud as Jack is of all of his accomplishments, they earn him not one modicum of respect from the crowd? Come on, get real.

Vince, it's jacked up that I'm listening to the same "You Deserved To Be Screwed" and "Your Father Would Be Ashamed of You" bullshit directed at Bret "The United States Champion" Hart but what is more jacked up is that your lack of attention to what attracted fans to the WWE. I started watching because there was going to be Chaos and Disorder in the ring. I wouldn't know what to expect. I tuned in because I wanted to know, just what the hell was going to happen next. By then, WCW Monday Nitro had become predictable. It was how WWE won the Monday Night Wars even though they were way behind.

What's happened since the competition was gone? Well, we only have the archives to which to turn. Even Misty who has only been a fan for the past few months can predict what's going to happen. She's seen what it was like when Stone Cold Steve Austin was the face of the WWE and even though she missed The Attitude Era, she found herself wishing it would return.

Vince, get on the ball and waste no time, you have a product that is seriously devaluing and quickly. I've been seriously getting ready to bail for TNA on Monday nights.

Episode 39: A Hotel Room And Compromising Positions

2010-05-11T16:44:00.002-05:00

I was sitting in a Taco Bell today, munching on a chalupa and trying to keep it down. I honestly believe that Taco Bell Corporation specifically uses the music they play as a weapon against their customers. Either you love it intensely or you hate it with a nuclear capability.

I'll go on record by saying, in case you hadn't noticed, I am of the latter persuasion.

Sitting there, I actually heard a song entirely constructed of the same line over and over again about, of all things...shining shoes.

Okay, over my near-decade in my former job, I learned how to shine shoes and do it pretty well but never in my life did I sit there thinking that it was ever song inspiration. To me, there were so many other social issues and things that were of personal importance about which for me to put pen to paper.

I know the feeble argument is coming that, had I indeed put pen to paper and composed that mindless piece of shit, I would probably be raking in those residuals and enjoying an early retirement but let's get a few fucking things straight.

1. Using auto-tune because you can't sing is a lot like running one of those telemarketing scams because you can't seem to get used to the fact that legitimately working is one way to stay out of jail. I understand that I can't dance but even if they make a fucking machine that will turn me into Michael Jackson, I still spare others the humiliation of having to watch me dance. Putting on floaties doesn't make you a good swimmer. Get it yet?

2. "Singing" the same thing over and over again is not a song. How about composing some lyrics? Challenge yourself!

3. The fact that someone wrote that 8-bit hunka shit and made money on it shows you that fools and their money are easily parted.

Look, if you think that I have no right to be so critical then fuck you, I do. Why? Because I'm part of a very unwilling audience. It's really simple to figure out. If you're eating lunch and a clown is dancing at your table and irritating you, then you're going to do something. Whether you'll just grind your teeth and bear it or you'll blast out his kneecap with the heel of your boot and then give him a nuclear kickblast to that stupid bullshit red thing they stick on their nose, you're going to do something.

Once I was out of Taco Bell with my food safely in my stomach and the urge to projectile vomit it directly into the street from the back of the parking lot abated, I actually thought about this at length. If I were head of any major music corporation, I'd call all talent scouts and their supervisors into a smoke-filled room with footage of the Zapruder Film playing for their viewing pleasure.

Once the back of Kennedy's head blows out and his head rocks violently BACKWARD. I'll pause the footage.

"Mr. Kennedy represents your jobs, gentlemen," I'll say as the lights come back on, "but unlike the assassination of our president oh, so many years ago, I WILL be the lone gunman. Anyone want to explain what the blue-ringed FUCK you're dumping into the music industry?"

After that, each one of these tag teams will have one hour in which to present a solid reason why I should keep them on the payroll and it had better outweigh the crap that made me want to hurl like a heroin addict going through withdrawls.

Enter: Justin Bieber

I just heard about this kid in the past couple of days. I had no clue as to who he was or why. I decided to sample a couple of his most popular songs. Seems talent scouts are getting lazy. By that, I mean they're now scouring YouTube and missing some people. By the way, when I say the word "kid," I mean it. After sampling a couple of his songs, I have to admit the kid's okay but he's the same thing I've heard from his adult contemporaries. He's got the girls coming after him and, to that, I say "Bravo...well done kid."

I won't crack on him because, quite frankly, he's got something his adult contemporaries don't...his young age. He's a novelty and soon, that novelty will wear off.

In Justin Bieber's case, here are the possible outcomes:

1. He has good people taking good care of the money he's making and he enjoys an early retirement.

2. He goes Corey Haim and really makes a douche of himself. After that it's a steady stream of arrests in seedy hotel rooms and compromising positions, tons of tabloid exposure and the "royal" treatment by the paparazzi eventually resulting in his death by overdose.

Let's hope it's the former and not the latter.

Look, Justin, it's really simple and it's really jacked up but you need to hear this...it won't last. Those corporate execs are done with you unless you can keep yourself unbelievably young and keep your music current. If you need to know what that kind of pressure is like, go check out Michael Jackson's history from cradle to alleged grave. He, like you, was a young music pop prodigy who was able to reach past his youth with it and carry it on as an adult but not without a side-effect that went into the realm of horror known as "pants-shitting." Play your cards right and you'll never have to work again but just one false move in that industry will cost you.

I can accept the fact that things didn't work out for me in the attempt to get a band together and get off the ground but I'm not bitter because at least I did give it the old college try. What I'm burning about right now is the fact that what I hear on pop radio these days consist of no-talent ass-clowns vying for viability in a market that's less effective than our government's "No Fly" list.

Is it any wonder why I'm more geared toward internet radio or shortwave? At least, for me, there's an alternative but let's talk about that for a second.

I'll concede that I didn't have to stay in that Taco Bell trying to choke down a taco or two but let's face it, with this kind of bombardment, is it any wonder why there's no more Popular Culture, Popular Music or Popular Entertainment? Now, the music, culture and entertainment has been completely taken out and it's just become Pop, a seething mass of amorphous hideousness that's being presented as the monopolies keep going within our music industry. While you're told what you are and are not to like by someone in a suit who wouldn't listen to it himself, you miss out on what could be helping you learn something and perhaps give you another opinion on a matter. Sure, it may be biased but what are you listening to now that isn't? You're the unbiased party, just give it a shot. You have nothing to lose, do you?

Me? I nearly lost my lunch.

Episode 38: Four Days In Hell

2010-04-19T23:22:00.002-05:00

I actually got my hands on the PSP game Dante's Inferno recently and let me tell ya something. If you're a God of War fan, you'll love this game.

Each level literally takes you down the path of Dante Alighieri's work known as The Divine Comedy but only the first part. See Alighieri's work focused on three parts; The Inferno, Purgatory and Paradise.

For the name's sake, we'll just go with the Inferno.

I couldn't help but think that it's a sad day for the afterworld when you take Death's Scythe and own his stupid ass with it. I mean, can you imagine what it would be like for Sonic: The Hedgehog to have died only to face Death, kill him off and then run through whatever afterlife a hedgehog goes through? It would be a videogame that never ends. It would be awesome.

That's sorta like dying in a puddle of your own blood and, just as you're about to go, you wrap your hand around Death's throat and start laughing maniacally while violently shaking back and forth rapidly.

I don't know about you but I got a chubby outta that. Way I had it figured, there are only two certainties in life...death and taxes. Well, when you kill Death with his own weapon, that pretty much gives you every right to tell the tax man to get fucked doesn't it?

Did I say chubby? Nah, Meet Woodrow! Boioioioioioioioinnnnng!

Next, you go on your descent into the various circles of Hell. There's Limbo, where the unbaptized dwell and your guide, Virgil the poet will inform you of the one thing you're going to have a huge problem with...babies.

Yep, babies with bladed arms and shit. This game just went from awesome to fucking bizarre. Now, here's the thing you should know outright. You don't just go through Hell ripping and shredding. You have levels of abilities to buy and there's only one way to do it...souls of the departed. Yeah, so you can either choose to punish or absolve those you meet in Hell thus controlling the morality of the game and how many souls you receive to spend on those abilities. In Hell, you get more flies with honey than with vinegar.

So then, it's deeper into Hell with the level known as Lust. This is an interesting one because it's where you start meeting shades...famous people sent to Hell for what they've done and again...absolve or condemn...choice is yours.

Throughout the game you climb craggy cliffs, have to figure out puzzles, find keys and pathways, fight people you knew when you were "alive" and save your girl, Beatrice, from Lucifer. Yeah, she kinda ended up with him while you were out in the crusades...look, play the damn game if you want the backstory.

Through the levels you'll battle Minotaurs, more babies, heretic priests and winged pests as well as Death Jr. s ....lots of them all in a heated journey ever deeper into the pit of this shithole until you finally reach past all the lakes of boiling blood, serpents that want to eat you, waterfalls of lava and walls of damned reaching out for you as you use them to climb around (I'm not kidding) and then...the final circle. Treachery, they calls it.

Unlike what most would think, this level is covered in ice. This means you're going to be doing a lot of sliding around. Lots of ground will break out from under you and you'll have to really be careful.

Look, I don't want to be careful and don't you find it ironic that you have killed the Angel of Death with his own scythe but now you can perish in a lake of boiling blood? Something wrong with that picture? Yeah, I thought so.

So anyway, you finally reach Lucifer, and let me tell you...what a little fucking pussy he turned out to be! I'd have rather taken on some lowlife jobber villain like Dr. Robotnik! After kicking his ass with my spiritual Pimp Hand the first time, all he could do was whine about how God gave him a screwjob to rival the one Bret Hart had been given in Montreal over 13 years ago. Then I had to kick his ass again only to find he'd been cast back into ice and trapped there.

Don't get me wrong, I had a lotta fun with this game, it was one of my faves but look, Lucifer talked much shit about taking my girl. If that were real, I'd have whooped his shady ass in a way that would make God take pity on him. I'd have issued an ass-kicking that would make Chuck Norris go, "Dude...was that really necessary?" For me, this game was less about actually winning and seeing some cutscenes...this was about slaying personal demons and leaving them where they needed to be.

The ending of the game hinted at a sequel...can't wait for that one. Probably a romp through Purgatory but I doubt it will be as awesome. Only time will tell.

Now, to the makers, I have but one request. No more of the timed swinging stages. I was born and bred to rip and shred...or absolve them but I'm not a fucking monkey, okay. No banana at the end for me? Okay then lose the Tarzan schtick. Climbing? Fine. Puzzle environments? Cool but no more of the ground falling away while I have to time that jump so I can swing through the fuckin' air, okay? Normally, if I'm playing a game it's to turn my brain off for a few so it doesn't pop and start pissing others off. It's downtime and I don't want to be stressed that I'm gonna have to start all over if I don't time that jump combo like Octo-Mom plans her parenthood.

Considering that it only took me four days of intensive playing to leave Hell wishing it hadn't heard my name, I traded it in at my local GameStop for a buncha movies and Metal Gear Solid Portable Ops.

Episode 37: Before You Realize It, It's Gone...

2010-04-12T22:05:00.002-05:00

On April 7, 2009, I moved away from Louisiana. I left everything that I knew, everything with which I was comfortable, everything which was convenient, everything that made me miserable and everyone that I knew and cared about. I left behind a lot of what I worked for. What I left behind wasn't much but it was mine. There was no doubt that I had worked my ass off for every bit of it.

I'm not much of a gambling man but I decided it was time to actually do a little. I didn't go to the boats though. I didn't roll up into the casinos with a gigantic wad of cash and start playing the blackjack tables or the slots. No, I decided that I'd waited around long enough. I'd done what everyone else thought I should do. I'd done what everyone else thought was right and safe. I'd never once done what I wanted to do. I pissed away every day since I was 22 years old because I thought that I needed to stick with what was safe. Everyone else had this fear of failure...no, I shouldn't say that. Everyone else instilled THEIR fear of failure in ME. I've experienced failure in some things, success in others. Maybe that's the story of everyone's life at different points. I won't hide that it was mine.

When I moved, I was as scared as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rotating gears. I had all those "what ifs" running through my head and not a goddamned one of them was mine. It pissed me off. As much as I loved what few friends I had and my family, many of them seemed bound and determined to keep me in a place I knew I didn't belong. Maybe I have the right mentality for a small town. Maybe I do have some simple values but what I also have is this deep desire to get out there and accomplish something. The way I had it figured, my 20s were over and, if I didn't do it, no one else was going to do it for me and I'd never do it. I've beaten smoking. I've beaten people's ridicule (more on that later) and I've beaten all of the odds put against me at getting here.

I got here on April 9, 2009 and you had best believe that that road was long, hard and unforgiving. I laid that hammer down and never looked back.

Speaking of roads, it's now April 12, 2010. Am I where I want to be? Was it everything I'd hoped for? Well...not quite. I can say that I'm not miserable. I can say that when I wake up and go for my morning walk, seeing all the cherry blossoms and the things that people plant and keep up really makes getting up worth it. I can say that I've met some of the rudest people and some of the kindest people here. For every rude, knuckle-dragging, mouth-breather, there's always someone happy that I'm here. For every person who laughed at some weird one-off idea in Louisiana, four people up here want to know how they can help further it here. I can say all of that. The road has been hard. It's been rough. It hasn't been easy. Then again, what good thing is ever easy?

I can honestly say that there were days that I thought I'd go under tomorrow. There were days where I knew I couldn't live with myself if I didn't extend a helping hand to someone. I wouldn't be able to look in the mirror and like who I am if I just didn't go for it. Some days, it didn't pay to get out of bed. Some days, there was nothing I'd rather do but get out there in the one thing that would blister the hell out of me and normally send me packing ass back indoors...daylight.

It's hard for me to even believe how little of it exists here during the winter. By four-thirty in the afternoon, it's gone and night pretty much makes it's presence known.

Here, I've shared a family's triumph and I've shared in their grief. Mom, Pop, if you're reading this then I know that what I believe is confirmed and I want you to know, I still miss you both.

And that's the other thing...the biggest thing. This family has a tendency of taking in people but more importantly than that, this family also has a tendency to take care of those they take in. It doesn't stop at, "Okay, you're one of us."

I'd like to thank every one of you who supported this move individually but my greatest fear is that I'll forget someone and I don't want anyone's feelings hurt but all of you, you know who you are...thank you so much. Without you, I don't know how the hell I'd have done it.

I have to thank Anne Marie, someone I've only ever met on paper. A lot of support and cheerleading came from a place that I don't even want to imagine. It's probably one of the darkest places on earth and for someone to throw an energy that positive my way...I can't thank you enough. But damn right, I'll spend a lot of time trying.

To Stu, man, I still remember you and I loitering outside of a Circle K when I was a young punk kid verbally abusing all the drunks on Saturday Night, keeping the clerks up at night. Without your encouragement, I probably wouldn't have some of the rather unique perspectives on life that I do now.

Justin, I gotta tell ya, you showed me one thing that's huge...if I fail, I let no one down but myself but if I just lay down and die...then it's all on me and that really does hurt the most. I can't thank you enough for reviving that level of fear of THAT sort of failure.

To my family back in Louisiana. I'd have taken you with me if I could. I'd have happily left behind EVERY material thing I'd ever worked for if you had just come with me. I know that you bug the hell out of me at times. I know that you make me nuts when I really don't feel I need it but that's what family does, I suppose. Without it, we wouldn't even know what the hell else to do with each other.

To all my friends out there, Mikey, Lenny (Cap'n!), Ron, Linda, Biggie, Sammy, Paul, Mark, Angie, Herbert and all of the other people I had the pleasure of working with over the past eight years plus. I've never met anyone like you guys. I probably never will again. I gotta say that the times we worked together, fought together, cut our teeth together, hell those were scars I don't mind bearing. They're stories I don't mind telling. The best part is I'm glad that I got to work with characters instead of just people. I got to hang out with folks that no one could make up if they tried. Sometimes truth was stranger than fiction but most times, it was better than anything I could have read, watched or listened to. Without you guys, I wouldn't have been well-rounded by that series of experiences.

To Lycan and Zeph, thanks for just plain being there. I know at my worst periods, nothing could scare you two away. I can't put into words how much that meant to me and I'll spend the rest of my life trying to figure that out.

To Pet and Bara, had it not been for you two, I wouldn't have believed that this type of arrangement was even possible. If not for watching how you two interacted, I probably wouldn't have attempted it myself.

Finally, to anyone else who reads this blog and supported me and my decisions, who listened to me rant, rave and carry on like some weirdo at times. Forgive me, folks, it's 11:49pm and I'm about to go to bed. I'm not the most brilliant guy at times but give yourself a round of applause and do a little dance. Celebrate because you had a hand in this too.

Now, this is where I don't mention names because I don't want my Thank You List getting dwarfed.

For all those who thought that I'd just be back in a month or two, you thought I wouldn't make it, tried to scare me out of it, told me that I'd just end up failing...you get the idea. I've earned the right to say what my heroes say ...I've Got TWO WORDS FOR YA!!!!

SUCK IT!

Now that that's over, there is one question that's been on a lot of minds. I still talk to some of you via comments to your blogs, email, IM when I can get on, Blackberry and even here in my immediate vicinity and one subject keeps coming up...will I do the show again?

Well, that's still hard to say. Scheduling has a lot to do with it and everyone knows I like the instant gratification that comes with live webcasting. Now would even be a great time to do it because if I were on ShoutCast again, I could be streamed to your phones, patched in through your car stereos...yep, mobility is no longer an issue with Internet Radio. It's, in fact, commercially viable now. Which leaves podcasting, since my schedule is far too erratic for live webcasting. That, I could do.

The biggest question remains...will I ever do The Genocydal Empyre again? The answer is a resounding "No."

The Empyre has fallen. Brought down by mine own hand. It's dead and buried and that is exactly where it should stay. What I started in my 20s can't be maintained in my 30s and shouldn't be. By the time we ended it, we had an alien for a mascot. That should have been a huge clue that it wasn't going in the direction I'd originally dreamed for it. I'll be the first to admit, the soundboards were pretty funny and I'd still keep those around.

No, it would have to be something different. We could take all the stuff you love and build something new with it but it's going to be awhile. I'm not sure even IF I want to do it again just yet. Time will tell. If a new show does come up, best believe the music will still be loud and hard, the topics will be discussed and my opinions will still be as blistering and unwavering unless I change them. Until then, only time will tell.

Before I realized it, a year just blew past me but there is one person I haven't thanked yet...well, make that two.

First, thank you Misty. If it hadn't been for you, I'm not sure that I would have had a goal and I'd have spent the rest of my life doing some stupid "coulda, shoulda, woulda" bullshit. Thanks to you, I'll never think that. I already know what the outcome would have been if I had stayed in Louisiana. I'd be a pile of potential in a pool of piss. I know that, you knew that and I'm glad you took a chance on me when no one else did.

Now, the last one I have to thank...this isn't going to be popular but I want everyone reading this to ask themselves when that's ever stopped me before. I really don't do much talking about what goes on beneath the surface, spiritually speaking. I've run one end of the gamut to the other. Sometimes it's been one extreme to the next but the end result is always the same.

Thank you to my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Without you, I know full well I wouldn't be alive today. I wouldn't have made it through the tough times. Maybe I don't know how to formally go about the praying thing these days but I do my best. Thank you always for thinking about me, I'm alive and doing fine.

"I used to dream about
the life I'm living now
I know that there's no doubt
I made it! I made it!"

-Kevin Rudolph "I Made It"

Episode 36: Thanks For The Memories

2010-04-01T23:07:00.002-05:00

WrestleMania 26.

The main event was set to start. The most anticipated match of the Millennium. Shawn Michaels vs. The Undertaker. One. Last. Time.

Shawn came out dancing as usual, sorta reminiscent of the old entrances we'd come to know and love. Then, everything went dark and that funeral dirge sounded. The Undertaker had come up through the floor of the stage and was ready to make his way down the ramp. Everything was washed in the color blue. It was the only light in the packed stadium. When Undertaker was in the ring and shed his robe, he and Shawn stood face to face and Shawn taunted him. The open act of defiance sparked WWIII, Judgment Day, Armageddon and Hell Unleashed all rolled into one thermonuclear event that would threaten to shred the Universe. Heaven and Hell were about to collide in a contest that would make even Chuck Norris say, "Whoa, hey...that's fucked up!"

Undertaker and Shawn traded blows, threw each other into corners, over ropes, into ringposts and nowhere was safe. At some point early in the match, The Undertaker botched a landing and screwed his knee up. Shawn, ever the opportunist, put the screws to the weakened knee.

Something you have to understand about The Undertaker, they call him "The Dead Man" because he doesn't register pain like your or I do. This match was different. Shawn made that beast of a man scream and howl in agony. Still, true to his word, Undertaker opened the gates of Hell and unleashed pure unbridled fury. Shawn. Still. Kept. The. Pressure. On.

Damn Straight.

The most memorable maneuver included Shawn's moonsault off of one of the ropes from the ring apron and onto Undertaker's injured knee as he lay helpless on top of the Spanish Announcers' table, splintering it in the process. After Tombstone Piledrivers, Last Rides And Chokeslams, Undertaker finally managed to put Shawn away.

Multiple Sadness.

Everybody knows that the fight is over...everybody knows the good guys lost.

Even I couldn't believe it. I'd purposefully stayed the hell away from all the backstage news sites because I didn't want to know the end until the damn match ended. Now, it was over and the arena was awash in blue light again with an exhausted Undertaker barely able to stand and celebrate his victory and his now 18-0 continued undefeated streak. Shawn lay there, probably unaware of what had just happened.

Unaware, that is, until Undertaker helped him up, shook his hand, thanked him and made his exit. Shawn's very sad walk back up the ramp would begin and a farewell would begin. Not a farewell to just a man but to an era and a breed of showman that will probably never be seen again.

Monday night, Shawn said a tearful goodbye to all of us through chants of "Thank You Shawn" and "Please Don't Go" and even "One More Match." Undertaker even came out to tip his hat to Shawn and leave. Undertaker doesn't even tip his hat to the likes of Chuck Norris. You have to be something and someone to have Undertaker tip his hat to you.

So Shawn Michaels is now retired for a second time. Damn shame but he deserves it. Time to take that time off, enjoy the money and the family in the process.

Shawn, I know you think you owe your fans a word of gratitude but I say that's total bullshit. You don't owe us anything you haven't already given us. If anything, WE owe YOU a huge word of thanks.

Thank you for putting your well-being on the line for our entertainment.

Thank you for literally catering to pseudo-bloodthirsty masses in matches that were nowhere near WrestleMania status. Every night on Raw was like tuning into a WrestleMania for free.

Thank you for being the cocky and arrogant bastard you were and the determined individual you are. Without it, not one damn fan would have had any standard to which we could have aspired.

Thank you mostly, Shawn, for not just doing a job but making that job MEAN something. How many of us can go to work and say we love our jobs to the point of actually going all in and balls out for it. We should all be so lucky and thank you for showing us that not one of us ever has to settle.

Those are just a few of the biggest reasons I can possibly find for thanking you for the performances you put on out there. Now, go enjoy retirement. Go enjoy yourself and your family. Go out there and reach out to some of those former wrestlers that didn't have the storybook career. If anyone can do it, you can. They need you more than we do. We'll always have the memories of the cocky founder of D-Generation X.

One more thing, Shawn, for all those memories and the moments forever immortalized on YouTube, I have two words for ya...Thank You!

Episode 35.5: Surfing A Different Kind of Wave

2010-03-12T09:46:00.004-06:00

I know it seems like I've dropped off the face of the planet but, rest assured, I'm still here.

Recently, I just took time away from the computer. Something had been missing and I couldn't put my finger on what it was until recently.

When I lived in Louisiana, I remember sitting on a chair on my front porch and looking out at the town that hated my guts. I looked at them running back and forth thinking, So what are you assholes doing that's so goddamn great? Tell me that. What makes your life so complete that you just have to poke your nose in my own? I remember the days when I'd sit there on my porch laughing at them. I'd laugh at their scampering around like roaches when you turn the lights on. I'd sit there with Izzy and we'd both watch them together. That's not right, no, nevermind. He would sleep while I would watch them. I'd look down at him, curled up in my lap with his paws against my midsection while part of my shirt was still in his mouth.

I still remember one of the local village idiots had hurled an open beer can at me and I had to move suddenly. The half-full can missed me but dumped beer all over Izzy and my lap when it hit the wall behind us. Both of us were pissed.

I was pissed because some moron had wasted good beer...and given me the license plate number of a driver running around DUI. I called that one in. It's important not to piss off skeletons you invite into your closet.

Izzy was pissed because he had beer all over him and his Royal Highness's sleep had been interrupted.

At the time when I wasn't dodging beer-laden projectiles, I felt like I had tuned in to something. There was a flurry of activity going on and, somehow, I was right in the thick of it but outside of it.

Living here in Jersey, no porch. Not much I can do outside unless I want to hang out in a parking lot. Until one day...

I'd traded in my old PSP and Samsung Instinct at work. The money wasn't bad. I bought two radios with the money I'd raked in from the two traded devices. I've been listening to a lot of radio these days. Mostly AM radio but I had to admit that I'd always wanted to hear what was on Shortwave. My little red radio had a proud place at my desk and was used quite a bit because of it's energy independence. You could only crank it or stick it out in the sun. The bigger red radio was one I wanted because it also had Shortwave and channel storage. I was getting tired of having to tune every time I switched bands and then, there was the small, black Grundig G6 Aviator...my trusty companion. Not only did this one have shortwave, it also had aircraft band.

From Left To Right: Grundig G6 Aviator, Eton Solarlink FR-600, Eton MicroLink FR-160
Foreground: Olympus WS-500M Digital Voice Recorder

Shortwave is pretty easy to get into an it's an inexpensive hobby. Go back to the picture for a minute and take a look at each of the radio units. Nevermind the digital voice recorder, that's there as part of the hobby and I'll explain that later.

What you'll mostly hear on shortwave bands, depending on time of day, is static...lots of it. Where's the fun in that? Well, it's a lot like google searching something. You type something in and you get lots of results. You narrow your search down and, eventually, you strike paydirt. That's what this is like, a primitive means of google searching. You set out surfing signals and finally, you hear something. Is it a talk show? Are they talking about the Bible? Are they chatting with an author about his latest book? Is the station's host speaking in another language altogether? Do you hear morse code? What is that out there? What's out there? Who's broadcasting and tossing out a signal in the hopes that maybe, just maybe, someone will hear it in a world that's overrun with the internet and satellite radio.

The most interesting thing about Shortwave is the distance from the signal you can be and still be able to tune in. For instance there's The Atencion Signal that broadcasts out of Cuba that's largely a mystery. The morse code never translates into something intelligible for the rest of us but it is something that's a mystery and there will be people forever trying to decipher it. There are stations out of China, Russia, Germany, Mexico and some of them are English speaking stations. On these stations, you'll get another point of view about what's happening here in our own country. Why would that matter?

Imagine being somewhere in Central California and you have a classic rock station that you absolutely love. You can't go a day without listening to it and you've heard other stations but they're not the same as this one. That classic rock station broadcasts on the FM band which means that if you move out of the coverage area, you will have to find another station that will suffice. If the same station also broadcast in shortwave, you'd be able to tune in all over the world. You'll be able to tune in if the atmospheric conditions are right. That's the only downside, Shortwave is very fairweather...literally. Still, that's also one of the greatest things about it. You can really get your information when all else fails.

Even if you're not looking for information, there's always the other aspect...hidden treasure.

Yeah, that's right. Hidden treasures. Deep within all that static, what might have been an aircraft band might have been jacked by some Ham radio operator using their signal to broadcast their own pirate radio station.

Starting to interest you yet? Here's all you need to get started:

Pictured: Grundig G6 Aviator, Headphones, Olympus WS-500M and 1' Stereo Patch Cable

For what it's worth, you don't actually NEED anything more than the radio and headphones but, if you want to catch some audio or run the morse code transmissions through computer programs to break the codes, you'll need some means of recording and Digital Voice Recorders are the absolute best way to do it. Unless you just want to go Old School and use a tape recorder.

Next, setting up:

Once you have this set up, then you can pop in your headset and start scanning the airwaves while you record.

Without recording there are things you should know.

First, you can start off with any shortwave portable handheld radio you want but, remember, if you pay $30, that's what you're going to get and not much more. Look into getting a Grundig G8 Traveller II or some comparable model. Even though what's pictured is the G6 Aviator, the only two differences between the Aviator and Traveller II are the aircraft band and the single side band (SSB) mode. The Traveller II does not have these features. If you're not as serious about your Short Wave Listening, the Traveller II is a wonderful way to start. If you're serious, settle for no less than the Aviator. The Airband feature is really fun if you're near an airport. Even if you're not, you might find a pirate radio station going.

Second, visit the following Websites to get you started:

www.swling.com

www.dxing.com

SWLing.com is a great way to start. This site gives you detailed explanations in the most basic terms possible to have you blasting off in ways you never thought you would be able to. DXing.com is another extremely valuable resource because they go one step further, giving you news in relation to what you're doing. As of the time of this writing, Grundig is sending FR200 radios to Haiti. If you want an idea of what those look like, go back to the first pic and look at the small red radio. Those small radios operate by crank or solar power only. The FR160 (pictured) does not possess shortwave capabilities but does have AM/FM/WX (Weather Band). It also has a built in flashlight and can charge your cellphone via USB. It's a handy device to have in the event of an emergency. In the event of Emergencies/Natural Disasters, radios will be your primary source of information. Newspaper delivery, power, television and internet/cellphone service may be interrupted but a good radio with a decent supply of batteries is indispensable in the face of disaster. Those that have built in LED lights are also invaluable as sources of light as well as bringers of news.

More News On The Ears To Our World Blog by Eton

With your training coming from these two websites and other "DXers" you may find yourself completely prepared for any emergency situation. You'll be more well-informed and up-to-date on the matters at hand. Some may even turn to YOU for their news while you turn to your radio. In some cases, simply sharing your radio may even keep you fed if your supplies are running low. It's also handy to offer the services of your radio in exchange for batteries should you be running low on those.

This is what I've been doing lately. This is my new porch. Instead of looking at a little part of a microcosm, I now listen to the world.

Episode 34: What Have You Done?!

2010-02-23T21:40:00.003-06:00

I saw it last night and couldn't believe it. Shawn Michaels has completely let his obsession with facing The Undertaker at WrestleMania XXVI take him to a whole new level.

History Montage of HBK vs. Undertaker

I have to hand it to The San Antonio Native, he did everything he could and pursued every legal channel in the WWE to do it. Unfortunately, it wasn't enough. He lost at the Royal Rumble. His road to WrestleMania has been overrun with frustration and dead ends. The Heartbreak Kid even went as far as dissolving D-Generation X, leaving his partner Hunter Hearst Helmsley without half of a team that was pure rebellious comic genius before they became a couple of pitchmen. At The Elimination Chamber Pay Per View, Shawn Michaels did what I thought no one could or would do. Inside Satan's Structure, during Undertaker's match with Chris Jericho, Michaels entered what I once thought was an impregnable and unforgiving circle of hell. Undertaker got a taste of Michaels' boot, costing him the World Heavyweight Title to Chris Jericho.

No doubt about it, the next night on WWE Monday Night Raw, he had The Undertaker's full and undivided attention.

For the first time ever, I thought Undertaker would bring back The Casket Match or The Buried Alive Match and bury Michaels once and for all. Undertaker didn't enter the ring with his trademark hat and duster this time. He entered as I remembered him at his most lethal. He had taken on the Lord of Darkness looked.

Messing with The Undertaker is a lot like injecting a bull with steroids and shoving chopped up meth under his nose, wearing a red suit, kicking it in the balls and then giving it the finger while wearing a leather jacket...it's just something no one does unless you have a death wish.

The Heartbreak Kid explained that Undertaker had left him with no choice but to go to the lengths to which he had gone just to get his match. Looking at Shawn Michaels in the face, I saw something I'd never seen before...sadness and desperation. Michaels has a reputation for being a showman but the montage that was featured of all of the frustrating failures leading up to this moment was just as the look on his face suggested...heartbreaking. For anyone who's ever reached up, scraped, climbed, pulled and suffered for that one moment in the sun only to have it denied you no matter how you did your best, that was the look on his face. He was out of time and didn't know what else to do.

The Deadman towered over Michaels and didn't say a word. I'd seen that demonic calm over Undertaker before...and it never ended well.

After explanations were over, The Undertaker accepted. There was only one condition...Michaels would have to put his soul on the line. Undertaker clarified further. HBK's wrestling career is his heart and soul. To lose it would devastate Michaels. Michaels is already being eaten alive by the mistake at Wrestlemania XXV that cost him the victory in his match against The Deadman last year...a mistake that leaves Undertaker's Win Streak for WrestleMania a cool 19 wins. Michaels believes with his whole heart that he can end the streak but, as Undertaker put it, The Streak is being put on the line...and so is HBK's career.

"You don't get it?!" Michaels said, "If I can't beat you...I don't have a career."

A series of images flashed in my mind. Sure, Michaels has beaten Undertaker before and has been left a bloody mess afterward. At Badd Blood '97, Shawn Michaels was barely conscious after a stunning defeat. It took Hunter Hearst Helmsly and Chyna to help him out of the ring. He had defeated the Undertaker but not without help from Kane and definitely not without Undertaker taking HBK on a grand tour of the Ninth Circle of Hell.

In that moment with Undertaker, either I heard HBK's voice crack or certain fear escape him when he finished his quote with "You're On."

Undertaker Accepts HBK's Challenge

Shawn, I have mad respect for you as a showman and a wrestler. Still, let's face facts here. You've been plagued with back problems and I sense they haven't just gone away. You've gone through your own personal hell since the Slammy Awards Challenge was thrown out there. You've always proven to me and other wrestling fans out there that you'll always give us our money's worth when it comes to giving us, not just a match, but an experience. Shawn, it's with that that I say...what the hell have you done?! I think I've illustrated what a bad idea this is. I hope you know what you're doing.

Shawn, listen to me very carefully. Don't take this the wrong way...retire after this WrestleMania. If you break the streak, I'm not sure that you'll be in any shape to continue. Remember that this is a perfect streak of WrestleMania wins and Undertaker now knows that you will do whatever it takes to see that streak ended...he's going to put you through Hellfire, Brimstone, Armageddon and Judgment Day to see that that does not happen. On the flipside of that same coin, you don't want your career ending in a loss. You want to go out on top. I get that. If you break the streak, just retire. Go live your life. You've provided this fan with more fond memories both as a hero and villain than I could have ever asked for. Break the streak, go home and go spend some time with your family and your ministry. They need you more than I do.

Undertaker, same thing...retire after this one. If your streak remains unbroken, there's no reason to do anything other than to leave a hugely tough act to follow. I don't think anyone else could ever claim 20 wins at WrestleMania. Twenty fuckin' years of WrestleMania wins? Nah...not even nineteen. It would take too long and I doubt the young punks that are up and coming are hardcore enough to last that long in the business. If Michaels breaks your streak, hey, it just goes to show you one thing; You Can't Win 'Em All.

Both of you, many of us in the WWE Universe are thinking of this one as Clash of The Titans meets Armageddon. It's gonna be epic in scope and we're expecting all-out war. What we're not expecting is for the two of you to keep doing it. There are younger guys there now. There's a whole new generation ready to take it up and guess what? You guys have to pass the torch sometime.

Undertaker, I have to say this, congratulations on setting the bar so high that the only way to beat it is by being impervious to suffering.

Shawn, it's high time to let the screams of adulation become a memory. Hold onto it as we hold onto your performances. With this recent turn of events...I just hope you know what you're doing.

I don't have a prediction for this match. I won't try to bullshit you with one, dear readers.

Give 'Em Hell, Guys...

Episode 33: Ridicule And Laughter

2010-02-21T19:53:00.002-06:00

Warning: The information contained within this particular blog may shock you and even offend you. Not that that's ever stopped me before.

Seriously, people, it's time for a reality check. When it comes to technology, I've had my old standbys. I still love my small radio but I'm happy that it uses dynamo or solar power and half the time, I don't even need the antenna. I still love pushing buttons but touchscreen technology still fascinates me. I love my VCR even though I know that my tapes will degenerate over time. I still love my DVD player and refuse to buy all those movies again on Blu-Ray but even though I've got all that, I know I'm going to have to do one very painful thing...upgrade my equipment at some point.

So imagine my reaction to half the technonomorons out there that honestly and genuinely believe that they can use new equipment with that 20-year-old sound system. Uh uh...ain't a happenin' and here's why.

Everyone would like a nicer picture and sharper sound and that's perfectly doable but guess what? It's gonna take new equipment to make that happen. That means that the stereo system you buy for your house today might be nice but don't expect a future component to work with it ten years down the road. There's nothing ridiculous about it, it's just how it is. If you really must have an adapter, then you're going to reduce the quality of one of the signals and the new technology isn't made for that. Keep that in mind.

I also understand that some of you would like an iPod sync cable for less than $20. Bare minimum, to buy it at any brick and mortar store...it's gonna cost $20 and $30 for a charger. Why so expensive? Well, let's put it this way, the part that plugs into your computer or your wall, that's the part that might cost ya about $8, it's that other end...the one with the 30-pin connection...that's Apple's proprietary end and they get royalties for it. Always, always, always take that into consideration when you're buying an iPod of any sort. If that doesn't appeal to you, don't buy it. A little word to the wise; if you ever want to spend way less than that, you can. Ordering it for pennies on the dollar on the web outta Hong Kong is going to be your route but once one of those pins breaks, remember this...you get what you pay for.

Now, I do have a request for producers of consumer-based electronics; SLOW THE HELL DOWN! You don't need to spout a new device like Stallone produces bad one-liners in his movies.

How about another request for you. Ask what your customers will actually want. Yes, I'm talking to YOU Apple. Let's take your iPad for example. Utter Shite. Basically, it's a big iPod Touch and the only way to put it online is either by Wi-Fi or by popping it onto AT&T's overburdened 3G Network. They're right about one thing on Apple's Website...the fact that the thing is close to $500! It's a pretty unbelievable price alright. I can't believe anyone would actually pay that much for a device that primarily relies on aesthetics. Apple fans, look, spend half that and get an iPod Touch. It's a lot less bulky and it does all the same stuff. Apple, couldn't you have designed something a little better? I mean, if you wanted something really revolutionary, how about adding expandable memory, a user-replaceable battery, maybe...hell, I dunno something other than an oversized iPod Touch?

Consumers, let me tell you what. If you really want something like this, let me offer you an alternative that is every bit as good and nowhere near as restrictive.

iPod Touch: Same thing just smaller if you absolutely MUST be one of Apple's hordes of "individuals."

Archos 5: This internet tablet is slightly larger but it uses the Android operating system. What this means is that you can develop things for it yourself and the speeds on Wi-Fi speeds are awesome. Even if you're not a developer of sorts, you can still get 70% of the apps on the Android Market for free. It also has a slot for an expandable Micro SD Card. It comes with 8GB for storage space but you could beef it up to 16GB easily.

Cowon S9: It looks like an iPod Touch and somewhat works like one but it costs about ten bucks more than, say, an iPod Nano. Not bad.

Take it from me...there are plenty of alternatives.

One thing I do have to request of all of you who read this....Put Passwords on Your Phones Now. Police are now performing warrantless searches of cellphones and, so far, Ohio is the only state requiring police to search your phone WITH a warrant. If you password protect your phone, then you have a reasonable expectation of privacy.

Episode 32: CyberWar 2.0 The Ubuntu Directive

2010-02-10T21:10:00.003-06:00

In the interest of just saying "Fuck It" to Windows Vista, I'd just stopped using my beloved laptop.

The last time I used it was over at Pop's place after walking his dog and I had a serious back and forth battle royal with it over, of all things, a movie download.

Downloading films is pretty simple. Even if your last technological reference point dates back to the mid-70s. All you do is click and watch the little meter fill, go find your file and then watch away.

Not for this Compaq that featured Windows Vista as it's operating system. It's a lot like getting away from the snow here. No luck. Three feet and then, less than a week later, another day of the heavy white stuff. So was my frustration with the declining performance of Vista.

Enter my new best friend. A new guy at work was shoulder surfing some notation I was writing. I didn't have the laptop with me. Frankly, the performance and program clutter was atrocious and embarrassing. I'd written down an objective to find Android and load it in. That's when he cleared his throat and asked what I was doing.

Normally, that kind of shit gets on my last nerve but the kid knows what he's doing. I translated my chickenscratch and he sat there listening. He did mention that he was only amazed I didn't want to weaponize my computer. I should have mentioned that that's the next part of my evil plan.

He took a look over my notes and then started in on one of the terminals. He pointed out a free Linux system called Ubuntu. I know, I thought of an African tribe somewhere in the Congo when he mentioned it, too. Then he pointed out all kinda stuff it could do. The only downside I saw...no iTunes. So, if I didn't need that to work one of my phones and my iPod, I'd slap it onto this desktop as well.

Being snowed in, I finally installed it. Now, all I need is my new Whiz-Kid to give me a little instruction on how to install the themes onto it properly so I can give it that Umbrella Corporation look that I want to give it.

Now, my laptop speeds are blazing...but I did have to do a little digging in order to get my Wi-Fi to work again. If you're not too stuck on Windows 7 or the new Snow Leopard system, try it...it rocks.

Now...to start rolling out applications. I'm going to turn my laptop in a damn mobile command center.

Episode 31: Cyberwar With Windows 7

2010-01-26T21:57:00.002-06:00

It took me freakin' months to get Windows 7 outta Arvato.

For those of you unfamiliar with Arvato, this is a company that is riddled with people from India all doing tech support. I don't have a problem with people of another nationality handling things but I require the following:

1. No Scripts. You MUST be able to interact with ME, not the other way around. If you don't have a working knowledge of how to communicate with me, don't bother me. I'm going off your script and I'm going to make sure your brain is gripped with panic from doing it.

2. Communicate With Each Other. If your department can't handle something as simple as communicating with another section of your fiercely-compartmentalized pyramid structure business model, then I'm going to return with a vengeance and then, your script will be like Xerxes' Persian Hordes at Thermopylae Pass. They won't count for shit.

3. You Can't Understand My Frustration. Period.

Arvato's employees needed me to fax over my receipt from my computer purchase in order for me to get the Windows 7 Upgrade discs. I did. Three weeks later, they hadn't received it. I faxed it again and called Arvato to ensure it had arrived, I was assured it was in the tech's hand. Three weeks later, another email stating they hadn't received it. Okay...that's it. The last time, I had to literally take a picture of the damned thing and send THAT to them. I did and called them. My order finally went through.

An hour later, another email stating that they would need another three weeks. Fuck. That.

I called them and was assured that a tracking number would be forthcoming. Naturally, that happened. One hand simply won't wash the other.

It still took about two weeks to reach me and then, I began upgrading.

One major problem...the backing up of files.

See, when you use the backup tool, it also transfers over all the useless files that you had lingering around since August. Naturally, that causes a problem. Once I'd upgraded from Vista to Windows 7, the benefits clearly emerged and made their presence known. I couldn't get over how great some of it was but that's when The Problem reared it's ugly head.

CRASH! Blue Screen of Death!

Anything over two gigs transferring from one hard drive to another caused my computer to blue screen. I'm digging into the computer's files and looking around, I'm doing virus scans and adware scans...nothing. Kaspersky and Spybot found nada.

Time to go online and consult with others who have expertise outside of my own range. Needless to say, my worst fears were confirmed.

On one of my days off of work, I sat in my office chair, Porky Piggin' It and having to literally do a reinstall. What that means is grabbing what I could and reinstalling Vista. Once the computer was back to factory settings, THEN I could upgrade again.

During Upgrade 2.0, I found the problem. Three game demos HP had installed were causing conflicts with Windows 7. Crap in a handbag.

I was doing a double-take at my screen. I couldn't believe it. I ixnayed everything that wasn't necessary to run the system and then upgraded. Now, it's working, I transfer files without a problem and all but I'll be damned if I didn't lose my gadgets and crap. Not that I really used it because I'm still a bit of old school when it comes to how I work with files and the like but still...all of that over three damn game demos?

So, as Tammi put it so eloquently at one time, I'm pissin' in high cotton.

...and my desk still looks like a bomb hit it.

Episode 30: An American General

2010-01-15T10:20:00.004-06:00

General Larry Platt's Website

Look, I don't like the show American Idol and I don't really think it contributes anything to our culture. Furthermore, if this is the standard for which our culture is noted long after its dead and gone, then you can count on a race of alien beings looking at us and thinking, "What the fuck was wrong with these people?"

I also despise watching the auditions. Half of the ones they feature make me want to turn away and induce death by provoking Mirko CroCop into trading nuclear kickblasts to the face. I'll even let him go first.

The other night, I was actually subjected to this circus of sideshow freaks and overzealous cartoon characters (Skibo Ski, baby!) and then, at the end...he...changed...everything.

General Larry Platt stepped right into the mix with his song "Pants on The Ground" and blew me away. While the judges were laughing, I was screaming, "YOU'RE GOING TO HOLLYWOOD!!!!!" Still, Dickhead Simon had to crush all of that when he stuck staunchly behind that numbshit 28 Rule. That rule which basically states that you can't be any older than 28 in order to compete. Yeah, you gotta crush their spirit while their still young. Extinguish any creative spark and drive that kind of pioneer spirit out of our nation while mind-killing pop culture still rules.

The People Have Spoken...WE WANT PANTS ON THE GROUND!!!

General Platt's use of the pop culture tool was nothing short of brilliant as he used popular rap format to blast back at the idiots with all the gold-capped teeth and pants sagging.

Now before anyone turns on The Good General, let's have a brief history lesson. Larry Platt was actually a student of Dr. Martin Luther King...since he was sixteen. The guy found out that, at sixteen years of age, his testicular fortitude would ensure that there would be a legacy following Dr. King. He protested for Civil Rights in the 60s, he's done more community service than all of us put together and he continues to be a social warrior today. He's a social equivalent of Randy Couture. The guy has even had a holiday in Georgia named for him (September 4, everyone...mark it down) so, before you go lauding your minor accomplishments, ask if they stack up to this social juggernaut. No? Okay, take the bling out of your mouth and learn how to use a belt. You haven't done squat for society.

Getting back to Pop Culture As A Weapon, Larry Platt has truly earned the title of General and with that, I bring you the YouTube video.

General, I Salute You, Sir!

Episode 29: Law And Disorder

2010-01-04T17:03:00.003-06:00

There's just something inherently wrong with the show Law And Order. Mainly, in every beginning, Jerry Orbach chooses to crack some off-color joke in relation to the murder that they discover.

I guess it's true that, if you're going to be an NYPD detective, you have to have a sense of humor but it's a lot like watching House's bedside manner. With Law And Order, gallows humor rules above all else.

Episode 28: Predictable Outcome (Year-End Review And Then Some)

2010-01-01T21:20:00.002-06:00

Okay, so let's recap. I basically uprooted and hauled ass.

Look, it's not rocket science. I've had to sit around for thirty years listening to the tales of others having all these grand adventures while I sat around like a hobbit in a fucking hole and coming to everyone else's rescue. One day, I checked my closet and decided to clean it out. There were no superhero costumes, I wasn't Bruce Wayne and none of my weapons were as cool as The Punisher's and Superman isn't one of my titles so, guess what? No more "coming to the rescue" so to speak.

Frankly, I just got tired of helping others out to the point of my own detriment. I gave my last at times and the return on that investment was practically nada. You can only imagine the intense frustration at that. Imagine being thirty years old and realize that all you've done with your life is rescue others and all you have to show for it is a string of busted relationships, friends that only come around when they need something you have, a job that thinks you're so great that they'll promote everyone around you and a village full of idiots that would be just as happy seeing you crucified inverse and eviscerated to boot.

So, no red cape, nothing to really show for the time and effort you've put in. Fuck it all...go for broke and haul ass and never, ever, ever look back.

I'm not getting younger and I'm damn sure not getting any rescuing done to me so I hauled ass here to Night City. I settled into a place where no one knows me and no one really gives a shit. I'm not trying to save this city. I'm not trying to save the people in it. Fair trade.

First order of business was obviously to get a job. Honestly, had I known that it would turn into what it has, I probably would have taken another fucking line of work.

So where did it all end up? Right back where I fucking started. I've got this job that seems to think that I should eat, breathe, live, sleep and shit it 24/7/365. Negative. Today, it was pointed out to me (for the second time in two weeks no less) that I'm the "only one" that can do what I do.

I'm beginning to think that that's the problem. I've always been taught to do the right thing, even when it's not convenient. I know I've done it. Last night, I turned away drink after drink with the thought process that, should I refrain, I won't feel like shit. I wouldn't have a ton of lead in my ass that I'd have to drag around with me all day. I felt great about the day...New Year's Day. I felt awesome, indestructible and that I could accomplish anything. Nevermind the fact that I was scheduled off early today, though it helped. I was armed and ready to face my day. I had my trusty Swiss Army Knives with me.

Come getcha some, motherfuckers...

I fired up the cruiser and flew to work. I wanted to get there early. Even with the fucking around in getting shit done, I got done early enough to open our doors a whopping ten minutes ahead of schedule. I'd left lunch at home. Fuck it, I'd eat when I got back home. I tore down five boxes and began a little cleaning project, ripping into it like a rabid wolverine. At that point, I was a machine and I was unstoppable. That's when I encountered roadblock numero uno.

Apparently, this dude who was a prime candidate for the Bravo Network came in. He'd lost his phone at another shop and his ridiculous request began. A phone that would instantly come with 140 minutes free. Then, this dude did the one thing I cannot fucking stand. No matter what answers I gave, his nose kept turning up at me.

Okay, I may not be fucking rich and, if I were, I probably wouldn't be working in this bullshit job. I'd be the one rich dude in your neighborhood you wouldn't like because I'd tell you exactly what I thought of you. I felt my fist curling up and tightening. Something about a turned up nose just screams "Hey....AIM HERE AND FIRE WHEN READY!"

Still, another voice in my head screamed, "DUDE! PLEASE TURN YOUR NOSE BACK DOWN!" Finally, after much in the way of talk, he left.

Lesson 1: If you ever lose your phone....make sure it's insured through your carrier. Claim it and you'll get a new one. Promise.

The second one came in and asked if we had a certain GPS unit in stock. Of course we do and it's awesome! I went on my rant about what it could do and why it was superior to others (the very reasons I snagged one on Black Friday) and what I recommended with it. I thought for sure my day was about to turn around until I showed it to him and then he dropped the bomb...he'd already ordered one and oh how he wished he'd just checked us out first. Little by little, they filed in and beat my resolve until finally, I got a text message. My relief would not be coming today. I was in this one for the long haul.

"You've gotta be fucking kidding me," I said when I called back. No way this was a simple text message thing. I've sacrificed too much in this place. My time off is something I've got coming. I can usually suffer a bit of inconvenience but this was too much.

Let's go down the laundry list of sacrifices I've made:

1. No podcasting or show because my schedule is never going to be anywhere near regular

2. Got a significant other who's not feeling very happy. Yanno, losing parents to cancer does that to you

3. No longer have a home life because, by the time I get home, I've got nothing left in the tank.

4. Lotsa frustration and nearly zero outlet.

I think I'll stop there. I'd let it be known that I was out at three. Non-negotiable. Pop's not doing too well these days and the plan was that I was going to his place to walk his dog (which I do happily because he's a generally warm and friendly pup who deserves a good long walk as much as I do) and help him take care of things he can't do himself. Needless to day, no one gave a fuck about any of that because I'm "the only one" who can do it.

Okay...that's it.

I've officially turned down any promotion. I'm never getting a pay raise if I don't get promoted and I'm also making my position known that this has already gone over the line. You don't continuously drive a car on it's spare tire, right?

If I'm the only one that means I'm irreplaceable and if I'm irreplaceable, I have total control. If that assumption is true, then it's time I take the velvet glove off of this iron fist.

Promotion would only prove disasterous. I have no home life as it is. Apparently, this place and I don't share the same belief system. See, I believe that my energy is worth something. The job seems to think that my best efforts aren't worth what I think they're worth. Something is wrong here. If I'm so irreplaceable, shouldn't I be kept happy? I mean, if I'm kept happy then I'll continue production. If not, I'll slap an embargo over the whole works and they can put that hollow platitude to rest once and for all time. If it's more than just a hollow platitude, then perhaps it's time to renegotiate the terms and conditions of my continued production.

Until then, I'm looking elsewhere. Time to hang up the "potential." The bills don't give a fuck whether I'm having a bad month of not, they only want one thing...the sign of the energy transfer and apparently, my job's getting their overunity out of me. I think it's high time the overunity came into my favor.

Episode 27: Resist Your Brainwashing

2009-12-29T22:10:00.003-06:00

Alright, people, time for a bit of an education about how the device we had formerly known as "The Tube" is brainwashing you...and how you can resist it.

Tonight, as I was sitting here at my desk, drinking my coffee, a commercial came on. It's the typical anti-smoking ad and it's one that stirs the old repressed desire to grab a pack and light one after another, after another. It was then that one line struck me. In red letters against a white screen were the words "Talk To Your Doctor." All the while, the voice said, "Talk to your doctor about prescription options...blah, blah, blah."

It was then that I wanted to know who funded the commercial. I already suspected but I wanted to know. Too bad I didn't see the fine print in time.

I still suspect that the emphasis on the Talk To Your Doctor line wasn't just coincidence. With all the Chantix commercials that drone on incessantly about how effective it is (despite the harmful effects of using Chantix) my suspicions were that it was an ad fully paid for by the pharmaceutical companies.

Look, it's pretty simple. Haven't you ever seen those commercials during election times where Politician A conveniently approves of all media that portrays him or her in a positive light? Doesn't that ever strike you as odd that they never seem to disapprove them or approve the messages that cast them in a negative light? Of course they won't.

Let's go with product marketing for a second as well. Skullcandy is one of the world's best manufacturer of earbuds and headphones. Consider this for one minute and, if you doubt me, go buy a pair and you tell me how you like them. I've used them and can attest to their quality. For a moment, just consider the name...Skullcandy.

The name alone suggest a pair of sweet buds for your head to transmit sound. The packaging displays artwork comprised of skulls grinning back at you in the hopes that you'll recognize it as being conducive to a counterculture tool and then the package's shape is in that of a skateboard.

Is anyone other than me seeing that the target demographic is skateboarders and trick cyclists? Without even realizing it, you and I have bought into the image of being a Xander Cage sort by simply purchasing a pair of headphones that will no more make us cool in that respect than any other headset on the planet.

AT&T and Verizon's media war also continues with Verizon's "There's A Map For That" ad that conveniently leaves out the Edge towers that AT&T still has in operation. AT&T's response is to show you how you'll need two phones to take advantage of simultaneous voice and data on Verizon's service. What they conveniently leave out is the fact that all of your push data is what's coming in as you talk on your smartphone and the fact that they desire to cap the data per month on the iPhone. Nevermind that you're paying for "unlimited" data. What Verizon also fails to tell you is that they have the highest rates of all the carriers and they have no intention of dropping them anytime soon.

After doing a small bit of research it becomes apparent that the only thing that you can count on is that companies everywhere will tell you the truth as long as they get to leave some of the truth out of the equation. In the end, you can't say they were misleading because they can back up their initial claims.

My advice: Look Before You Leap.

Wish.exe Extension

2009-12-27T19:24:00.002-06:00

I rarely, if ever, write something like this but I wanna keep this one short, simple and to the point. The state of Texas has been hiding behind a "Tough On Crime" stance in order to be dicks with shoes. If you haven't been by Tammi's blog (texastammi.blogspot.com) then you should go and read up.

I actually talked with her by phone the other day and, from what I'm hearing, it doesn't look good at all.

I wanted to take this opportunity to wish her the best of luck tomorrow. Hopefully, I'll get the text message that everything is alright. If not, I have another letter to write tomorrow to send off.

Random Thought of The Day

2009-12-26T23:28:00.003-06:00

I've always kinda wondered about superheroes like Spider-Man and Daredevil....and if they ever shit their tights the first time they decided that swinging around from buildings and leaping from high places reeked of "awesome."

Episode 26: Snowblind

2009-12-23T20:49:00.002-06:00

I thought that, when I moved into the North, I'd never see the intensity of the sun killing my sight but I know that I was wrong.

Near blizzard conditions happened on Saturday. My poor new PT Cruiser was buried in snow while I was at work. My new manager and I took our phones and filmed the progression of it all. Keep in mind, I have never driven in snow. I've seen snow all of maybe three or four times in my life and nothing compared to the awesomeness that was this snowfall. Normally, you only see this kinda thing in movies. The snow fell...and fell...and fell. The wind howled outside blowing freshly fallen snow off of their mounds and into the air. It literally moved like sand in a windblown desert. I'd ventured out into it several times and found myself tromping through the stuff. It fell and the layer outside became thicker and thicker. By the time we closed, I had to rock my car out of the stuff. I drove half the speed limit and getting home was no easy task.

The next day was no easier. I had to open which meant I had to dig my car out of the snow first, warm it up and then I spent most of the drive nearly sliding sideways. It was by far the most terrifying experience ever. All I wanted to do was go home and get comfy. I couldn't believe just how bad snow could get in the North. As terrible as it was, I'd still rather deal with that than hurricanes. Hurricanes wreck things. Hurricanes wreck entire cities and snow...well, you just have to be careful.

The snow is still around. Slowly but surely, it's melting off of the back roads. All of the main roads are clear now but what the weather is calling for is sleet and rain. I don't know but I've been told that the rain, if enough, will wash the snow away. I'm fine with the snow going away now. Mainly because of the holdup it's presenting. Plus, there's the ice to worry about. Walking along the sidewalks is proving to be perilous as well. Spots of black ice are all over the place. One wrong step and you're on the ground, my friend.

What I couldn't believe in terms of the snow was how it could increase the intensity of the sun. When everything around you is white, the sun just becomes more than a mere enemy, it becomes a tyrant devoid of mercy. Sun's rays reflecting off of the white, sparkling, undisturbed snow, make my lenses go the darkest they've ever been. Even still...the sun is still bright as hell.

The cold isn't so much what bothers me. I'm used to that and I'm perfectly at home in it. It's the wind. In the snow up here, I could actually venture outdoors without my jacket, hat and gloves but once the wind starts kicking, those become a necessity. Jersey residents must be insane. There are still people that will go out and shop in this type of weather. The streets are a deathtrap and the smell of consumerism still lingers. Granted, it's not heavy but it's still there. Worse yet, people still don't make it worth their while or ours. I can't tell you how many requests I'd had for a discount because they'd had to dig their way out of their driveways. I'm all for making customers happy but I had to dig my way out to make it to work and brave conditions that no sane person would just to make it there. I would say we're even.

It would seem that behavior of most wealthy people becomes more and more insulting during the holiday season. Not really sure why but the way I see it, I'm happy as hell I'm not one of them. If you ever find me living amongst those people, you'll find that I'm not going to be the neighbor they like. They're only one of the many reasons I support legalizing marijuana. Seems that most marketing should target stoners anyway. Don't think I'm crazy just yet. Let's seriously think about this for a minute.

First, the wealthy didn't get that way by spending the money, they got that way by penny pinching no matter how much they had. Stoners with questionable math skills, however...hell, all they want is something flashy and pretty to look at and play with, right? Right! So, the wrong audience is being targeted. Second, you'd never have to worry about the registers being short. Most of these people would probably tip the employees pretty heavily. Third, there's no real "selling" that has to be done...you just kinda talk to 'em. Show them something flashy with pretty colors and that item is going out the door quickly.

Then again, most of them might have sense enough to stay the hell home on a day when the roads become lethal.

Anyway, I think I'm done ranting really. My Christmas blog will be following soon.

Stuff And Things: The Clinch Wallet

2009-12-23T19:18:00.002-06:00

Guys, I know there is a huge problem for all of us. I can address it as the Huge Damn Pain In The Ass.

The Huge Damn Pain In The Ass happens with only one thing...a new wallet. How many times have we sat only to find our posteriors in complete discomfort as we try to break in that new eelskin or the new sporty nylon wallets we get and you know as well as I do that, when they fall apart, and they always do, there's the joy and the pain of a new one. It's that fat lump in your butt that causes you to have hip alignment problems. Those cheap and crappy photo holders fall apart or the photo gets all jacked up from sitting in your wallet and all manner of crap goes into it...unless you're just a minimalist and, even then, that new wallet will kill you.

It's that break-in period that gets us, isn't it? Pain and suffering just don't become us.

What if there was a wallet that distributes everything evenly? What if there was one that you could put your stuff into and not have to worry about sitting on a lump? What if it would hold all your stuff securely and be less of a worry for you? What if that break in period was so unnoticeable that you could just use it immediately without even knowing it was there?

You can thank Louis Kiss. He made that possible.

Let me tell you a bit about him first. He's not only a Hollywood Stuntman and one hell of a guy but he's also a genius. If you haven't heard of him by now, you damn well better look him up and make friends with him because you can look forward to all kinds of pain in your butt if you haven't.

He also created The Grab-It Pack (available through www.thinkgeek.com or www.grabitpack.com) but that's not the object that I'm here to tell you about.

See, life is situational, you know. You can't always run around looking like a Han Solo/Snake Plissken lovechild so, you have to carry a wallet at times. Louis understands this as well and, as such, brought his genius to the table.

So what is this object that is so awesome that it's interchangeable for your professional as well as your personal life?

Enter The Clinch Wallet.

www.clinchwallet.com

In brief, no more cheap, crappy plastic holders that turn your photos inside out and fall apart in the process, no more break in period that does nothing but bring you grief and everything is accessable within mere seconds of opening the wallet. Three main compartments hold your cash and passport and whatever else you want it to hold. The windows hold photos, IDs and even important business cards and those slots hold onto your credit cards without letting them go.

The thing's about $15 (roughly) but, take it from me...it's worth every penny.

Now...let's get down to it. You know I don't post about anything unless I've used it so let me give you my take on it.

I've had mine for less than a week and have done some sorting and resorting just based on how quickly I want to access my stuff and in order of priority. Now that I'm settled into it, it was broken in in less than 12 hours and without one iota of pain. Talk about awesome. Two of the credit card compartments were a little too small to fit something the size of a credit card in there BUT, I have two small tool cards that took those spots and it's filling my needs. That was the only problem I've had with it. Co-workers of mine and customers alike have been intrigued when I pull it out to grab one of my tool cards because they can't believe something that seems so big came out of my back pocket. Take it from me, unless you're a child, it will fit into that back pocket of yours.

The chain that comes with it is pretty light but, should it ever break, a new length of chain from a pet store and a couple of "S" hooks oughtta do just fine. Bottom line is that the thing is going to stick out of your back pocket...keep that chain on.

Keep that chain on, that is, unless you're using your Grab It Pack. Not surprisingly, the wallet's chain can be removed and you can pack it around inside your Grab It without it taking up too much space. So let's say you're like me and you like carrying around a PDA as well sometimes...now it's not going to bulge like you have a small gun in there.

With how awesome this thing is, it's time to ask yourself. Sure, $15 or so might seem a little steep but how's your endurance on that lump pressing itself painfully into your hip right now? Yeah, thought so.

Final Thoughts: The Grab It Pack was a hard act to follow but The Clinch Wallet has gone well beyond proving itself. If you were to liken the world of gear for lugging your essentials to wrestling....D-Generation X just formed and is taking the world by storm

Links Just To Remind You:
www.grabitpack.com
www.clinchwallet.com
www.thinkgeek.com

For what it's worth...tell Louis that Damien sent ya.

Episode 25: Watch Your Language

2009-12-08T22:14:00.002-06:00

Before you go batshit crazy on me, hear me out here. Did you know that the English language is the hardest in the world to learn? Know why? It's because there's so much slang out there.

Let me get to you on a cerebral level here. Lend me your brains for a minute and I'm going to show you why you should question everything...even what I have to say.

Let's go back to that fiasco about China's "Lead" scare. Sure thing, we outsource production to other countries because they can make stuff for pennies on the dollar and then, just when you think all is well we get to take a few doses of some bad medicine. Let's examine what happened when the Great and Powerful "Lead" Chinese made (still makes?) our stuff.

First, the quality was certainly worth the cost of production. Nothing lasts.

Second, it was overpriced and no honest, working American could afford it. Am I the only guy that remembers when a Ninja Turtle figure cost about five bucks? Now, they're damn near twelve! Jeez!

Third...lead-based paints.

Well, that just "lead" to people going batshit insane and wouldn't you know it...it ended up going way over the line.

I think we can all agree that we didn't want lead-based paint in our products. I mean, we've all been warned of all the danger to us, our health, the environment...

and we started screaming "NO LEAD PRODUCTS FROM CHINA!"

Well, the Chinese were happier than pigs in shit to oblige us...and so was the anti-gun lobby. Yeah, but what the hell did THEY have to bitch about?

What are bullets made of, guys? See, I have to illustrate this completely through so you'll understand.

The Anatomy of A Bullet:

A bullet from a gun is composed of several parts. First, you have to have a shell casing, a primer, powder and the actual bullet itself.

Once the firing pin strikes the primer, the primer causes the gunpowder in the shell casing to heat up rapidly. There's not a whole lotta room in that shell casing and so there's the explosion, sending a lead projectile down the barrel in a twist and finally it flies through the air at rapid speed, into the target. Then, the shell casing is ejected.

So which part is lead? The shell casing is made of brass and not much more than that, the primer is ...hell I dunno what it is and gunpowder is gunpowder but the bullet itself...that part that comes out of the gun is lead...through and through.

So why is a bullet composed of lead? Well, kids, that's because when a bullet enters a target, it must mushroom and dump it's energy midway through the target to do the most damage. If it just went through the target, sure, it might get messed up but there might be someone or something you don't want to shoot behind the target. When it mushrooms, it dumps the energy it's carrying and does massive tissue damage. Internal organs are screwed and you might as well call it a wrap on the deer or intruder you shot.

The anti-gun called your cries a victory and the Red Lead Chinese were only happy to help them and you along. No more lead bullets being shipped from overseas and then...we had a run on ammunition in just about all fifty states.

Now, during the summer, there was that whole Manny Ramirez thing. I'm sure you remember that he tested positive for "Performance Enhancing Drugs."

Okay, let's just say I'm new to this whole thing and I don't know a thing about sports. Better yet...let's not pretend. I'm nearly totally illiterate when it comes to sports so I must ask, what drugs was it that Manny was testing positive for and why should this matter to me as a potential sports fan? Were you really looking out for his health or were you merely worried that he cheated and do these supposed drugs fall into the realm of cheating to gain an unfair advantage? In that case, why not allow all players to use these drugs if the advantage is so unfair?

Do you know that I'm not getting answers to these and it's now into late Autumn/early Winter?

That leads me to believe one thing, the impending cries of "NO PERFORMANCE ENHANCING DRUGS" are on their way and that worries me.

As an avid Vitamin C user, I can honestly say that I haven't been feeling sick this year. It's been one of the few where I was actually able to ward off most sicknesses that do tend to plague me on a regular basis and, I don't mind telling you, I feel great day in and day out. I get up feeling like a million bucks and I just don't stop going. I don't do "energy drinks" because I just crash two hours later. Every day at work, I deal with the crap people give me and still maintain a fairly decent enough attitude to get through my day without just falling out at the end of it. Obviously, Vitamin C has enhanced my performance but, really, let's start meaning what it is we say and start saying what we mean.

If you don't want someone doing steroids as a means to get ahead, by all means, say so but beware of these broad generalizations...they're doing more harm than good.

Oh and by the way, if anyone thinks I'm splitting hairs...all I have to say is that I remember what happened the last time.

People, watch your language.

Firing Back (A Rant In The Key of F)

2009-11-22T18:46:00.003-06:00

After a few months in the customer service thing, I think it's officially safe for me to say a few things. I've taken a lot of shit to earn some paychecks in my day but I never once thought that my entire career in corrections would be preferable to what I'm doing now. I always thought that I could do way better than corrections and working in the realm of all the gadgets and toys that I'm used to playing with was more my speed but I've encountered more species of lowlife, douchebag mouth-breathers than ever. In my former line of work, we used to call these people P.M.C.F. or Perpetual-Motion Cluster Fucks. The following list proves beyond all doubt that the brain dead do live, resist eating brains on a physical level and do well for themselves, depending on how you look at things. Begin The List!

1. The Broken Record:

This is a customer type that you'll encounter with this particular exchange taking place.

The Broken Record: Hey, do you guys carry car stereos?
Me: Unfortunately, no.
The Broken Record: But you used to!
Me: I know.
The Broken Record: When did you guys stop carrying car stereos?

For those of you who haven't encountered this type, you'll notice that they enter with blank expressions, mouths agape and a voice that says that Hooked On Phonics didn't work for them. That's because they struggled with trying to learn how to use that fancy cassette player with headphones they've probably given up on by now. In the mental processes of The Broken Record, repetition will bring that out of stock item back from obsolescence, reverse time or stop it altogether to a time where everything was so ideal in the world of electronics. No matter how much you try to reason with this person or redirect them so as to better suit your needs, you're the asshole. Apparently, you were with this chain of stores from their inception so you simply MUST know all there is to know about the place and why they suddenly decided to "alienate" the humble car stereo user. Their refusal to accept the facts will have you feeling your I.Q. being sucked away from you.

Most Likely Occupation For This Type of Customer: Window Cleaner At A Gas Station.

2. The Pinball Wizard

This customer is so addicted to gaming that for you to be an electronics outlet of any kind without the "proper" items geared toward gamers is a Mortal Sin deserving of Hell. Running into this type of person makes me want to gnaw my own leg off in order to survive. When you're dealing inside of a niche market and trying to cater to many groups and be a one-stop shop for all of them, The Pinball Wizard insists that you MUST...you just absolutely fucking MUST have one particular piece of equipment for his or her gaming needs. What baffles me is that these kids (chronological age no longer applies) are able to put this type of mentality into a pseudo-intellectual argument while being blasted out of their minds on pot or thinking that the insipid chants of "We are ODST!" is going to send me into some panic-induced state, scrambling for my manager. These people missed the fact that, across the parking lot is a Play-N-Trade and just a couple of doors down is a GameStop. I never said they were logical, but somehow, I guess my mom was right...too much video gaming can really fry your brain.

Most Likely Occupation: Basement Kid For Life.

3. Desperately Seeking Susans:

Contrary to popular belief, these people do not HAVE to be female. These are people that are so enamored with what you have that, to talk to you, you would think that maybe you're going to hang out afterward for a beer and lap dances paid for by this customer. Oh, if only Nature were so kind. The reality is that the type of people more likely to pay for your beer and lapdances all night is probably never going to be where you work. Your chances of being hit by lightning are far better than that. No, this person has no life, friends and hasn't discovered a meaningless sense of social worth on MySpace or some Newgrounds.com leaderboard. This particular type of customer wants to hire you personally. While that's great, what limited time you do have off is normally spent on maintenance work like doing your laundry, washing some dishes, cooking, catching up on sleep that you lost, etc. The DSS wants you as their personal tech guy, their friend and their therapist. Usually, it's the latter of the three that they want you for the most. Still, you know that the calm demeanor you put forth is slowly being betrayed by the raging dragon inside just screaming "LET ME AT 'IM!"

Most Likely Occupation: Janitor

4. The Walking Encyclopedia/UnRealist:

This morale-killing fucktard has invaded all forms of life and won't leave. You know the type. He was the overachiever in high school, barely noticed by women and lacks any sense of social skills. He comes to you with questions and no matter what you've suggested you are WRONG!

Why? He's The Walking Encyclopedia and he's just uploaded the entire goddamn Library of Congress into his head. All the stuff you've learned to say, toss it out the window and get ready because nothing you say will work with this fuckhead. His defining characteristics are glasses that are thicker than normal and the appearance of a snarky twenty-something. If you need a quick ten bucks, ask him or her if they still live with mom and dad, you have about a 95% chance of winning that bet. If you happen to fall into that smaller percentile, ask them if they just recently moved out of mom and dad's joint...you'll win your money back everytime. Your best bet is to just direct them to whatever section they need to go to and advise them as best you can. Nothing you can say will do because, they know everything.

They also seem to want stuff that doesn't exist and think that, just by thinking of it, their Chimera Component Cables exist at a fraction of the price of anything

Most Likely Occupation: Hobbyist (Parental Paycheck Included)

4. The Empowered Consumer/Discounter:

They're a little harder to discern from The Walking Encyclopedia but all you have to hear from them is "I read Consumer Reports" and you know that these people are going to be one of your worst nightmares. I can tell you that I've attempted to reason with them to no avail.

With the advent of the Internet, Consumer Reports' website has basically become a haven for anyone who has had a shit experience with some organization somewhere and, if you really read with a critical eye, there's no place on earth that's safe to shop, nothing good to buy and definitely everyone in the service industry is an Agent of Evil seeking only one thing...to bleed you dry of money while increasing their profit margin. With questionable journalism like that, who can argue?

That's the take with The Empowered Consumer. Bottom line is, you're not to be trusted for anything, at all...ever. If something's on clearance, it must be awful. If it's a display item, it must have something wrong with it. If there's an extended warranty to go with it, you're just ripping them off and, when you do try to cut them a deal, you have an ulterior motive.

The most difficulty I've had with this type of customer is struggling to keep my response to "I read Consumer Reports" from ending up, "Yeah, I love fiction too!"

The Discounter is another in the long line of fucktards associated with the Empowered Consumer. Their defining characteristic is the mating call of bargain bin shoppers everywhere...

"Cheap! Cheap!"

I've also recently learned that The Discounter is actually a virus spreading unchecked and is actually worse than the dreaded H1N1 Swine Flu. They want Price Matching, discounts for the most ridiculous reasons and they can't bring themselves to understand that that kind of thing actually DOESN'T happen in some places

Most Likely Occupation: Mystery Shopper

5. The Hatred Machine:

The Hatred Machine has only one mission...to make your experience with dealing with them as miserable as inhumanly possible. There is nothing you can do to make these people happy. These people are only happy when they're miserable and they're taking you with them. Guess what? That's where you're going...into that deep pit of depression right along side of them. Chances are, they've had a shit experience somewhere and you're just another necessary evil for these fucktards to have to deal with. Nothing you can do will make them happy and they will do everything to have something to bitch about. They blame YOU as the source of all their misery and, hey, don't feel too badly...someone else was as well. Chances are, all the time, effort and energy you put into attempting to make them happy will do only one thing, piss them off further. In the end, you're going to lose and there truly is no way out of it.

Possible Occupation: Wal-Mart Greeter

6. The Adaholic:

No matter that those up the chain refuse to listen to you, The Adaholic believes that you simply must stock that item they found in the sale ads in the circulars that went out. These people will talk to you as though you're five years old.

"See this?" pointing at the ad, "This says you have this item on sale for..."

The only real distinguishing characteristic between this consumer and The Broken Record is that The Broken Record has the mentality of a five-year-old and doesn't carry the damn circular.

Possible Occupation: High School Guidance Counsellor

7. The Retro Human/Conspiracy Nut:

The Retro Human refused to believe that prices will ever go up, components will become more advanced and that you don't have a hand in any of it. You heard me, YOU must have raised the prices in order to gouge them of money and you must have taken all those old parts that kept their Ham Radios running for so long out. Don't bother suggesting the internet, bucko, you must have invented that too and guess what? You're the one profiting on all of it. You're in it with those evil Martians. You're using the new technology to brainwash everyone. It's you and some weird Martian Death Cult doing it all. In your spare time, you worship some Babylonian Deity and sacrifice small children to it. Meanwhile, his children who have the iPhone are somehow secretly tapping his phone line or trying to look at him while he's naked. Or maybe...just maybe...all phones are equipped with cameras so that the government can tap in and see what he's doing.

None of it has to make any sense. The connections really don't have to be as coherent as what I just presented (though they were hardly coherent in the first place) and none of it has to be explained...YOU work for THEM and if you need an explanation, you'll never understand.

These people also ask the same lamefuck question of "Whatever happened to just...simple?" over and over and over again, as though it were somehow written in stone by them and inked in their own blood that this was the way it was supposed to be and damn anyone else who might want something different.

Possible Occupation: Cable Access Show Host...or are the cameras really working for someone else?

8. The Hyper-Sapien:

He's the exact opposite of the RetroHuman. This guy just got his hands on a new smartphone and is already waiting with bated breath for the next one. In the meantime, he's going to entertain himself by loading up on small parts to build that LED-lighted shrine to his original iPhone because someone told him that it was the very first one. Forget coherent explanations with this guy because he WILL get offended if you ask him what the indication was that it was the first one off the line. Once that project's done, The Hyper-Sapien will be back for more parts to literally graft electronics to his body. The only way to deter such self-destruction is to remind him that he should keep up on Wired Magazine....a new version of the device he wants to graft to his ass so that he never has to shit again, thereby interrupting that Call of Duty: Modern Warfare game...ever...again so grafting it might be a little more of a complicated process. I hope that made sense. Main thing to remember, this guy has out MacGyver-ed MacGyver.

Possible Occupation: IT Guy

9. The Vulture:

The Vulture likes to pick at dead things in real life and in the world of electronics, your store and your sanity are a smorgasbord for a feeding frenzy.

The Vulture likes to come in, list what they're looking for, take your recommendation and then begin a two-hour-long Q&A session that will require you to know every subtle nuance of a fucking cordless phone. The extensive list of questions will range from the pricing on the phone to can it open up a wormhole in deep fucking space. In this case, every product in that line is evil and they can only determine the lesser of those evils.

Possible Occupation: Rotten Tomatoes Dot Com Writer

10. The Electrocutie:

I've saved this one for last because it's the one that gets under my skin and wears it like something off of Ed Gein's line of clothing products.

They come in with the most vague questions and expect you to know what they're droning on about. If they don't come in with vague questions, they come in with unrealistic expectations and they think it's cute. When you suggest bringing the product they already actually possess into the place so you can look it over and figure it out, they quickly reject this notion and it's ALWAYS accompanied by the phrase, "Oh...I'll know it when I see it." These brain dead individuals also carry cellphones but refuse to call home to ask and when they do, they'll put you on the line with whoever it is. You'll know you've descended into the 666th circle of Hell when the person on the other end of the line knows less than the person in front of you. You Are About To Have A Very Bad Day.

The whole time this is going on, you're probably going to be subjected to the usual insults of "I'm going to (Insert Organization Name Here) because this is too expensive!" or "*sigh* I thought you guys knew what you were talking about!" or these people will stand in front of you acting as though their complete lack of knowledge is supposed to be the "Awww" of The Day.

Possible Occupation: We'd have to assume this customer could possibly have an employment history of longer than a week and that's stretching it.

It's occurred to me that I've probably touched on a few of these types before but with each passing day, just when I think a new classification can't possibly exist, God throws another one at me. At my present going rate, I'm either a candidate for being canonized a saint or possibly a shooter from a bell tower.

Episode 24: Dude...Seriously...

2009-11-15T22:39:00.002-06:00

We went to see Roland Emmerich's new film Shit Got All Blowed Up but you might know it by it's other title 2012.

All I have to say is, "Dude...seriously..."

At least with the movie Knowing, there was some seriously frightening shit there. Big solar flare, we all get burnt until we're all nice and crispy and I don't mean from smoking something. I'm talking hellfire and the lot. Then there was all the dark shit surrounding it and those weird fuckers running around in black trenchcoats and the weird woman who did nothing but write a bunch of numbers down only to be decoded later. The ending was horrible for those of us on Earth.

****THIS BLOG WILL CONTAIN SPOILERS****

Emmerich's film was like something out of Michael Bay's Magazine Explosions Afficionado. What we got treated to was a seriously shitty Arnold imitation that spoke too soon, the whole world going to Hell in a hand basket and not one, not two, no, not even three or four but FIVE instances involving vehicles attempting to outrun chaos because someone or another would make a huge error in judgment. I was literally getting motion sickness and a bad case of the nerves from watching it. The only thing that surprised the shit out of me was that John Cusack managed to keep from boombox serenading our planet back to it's calm state.

The other thing that surprised me was that no one had sense enough to fucking deck Oliver Platt's character for being a real fuckwit through the entire movie.

Emmerich's made some really good movies but how about making one that doesn't just illustrate in some Day After Tomorrow sense what the whole Mayan Calendar thing was all about. Hell, they barely explained the damn calendar at all. All we got was, "Hey everyone, guess what? The sun hit us with neutrinos and we decided to only save a few. Good luck to the rest of ya...totally sucks to be in your positions!" Admittedly, it was the only part of the movie I didn't find to be completely bullshit.

After seeing this movie, I rolled my eyes and swore I'd never go see another disaster movie ever.

You know, I'm all for seeing the big End O' The World kinda thing with the touching moments of levity and humanity where desperate times show people really pulling together but, seriously, to think people actually decided of their own volition to go see this piece of shit?

Look, if you've seen the commercials for the movie, you've seen the best parts. The ending isn't remotely something that could happen.

I think the more accurate ending would have been the most logical.

As one character put it, "We're All Gonna Die!"

Episode 23: Technophobia, Idiocracy And The Thin Red Line...

2009-11-15T21:34:00.002-06:00

You know, after a completely shitty month in finances, you figure that putting your best foot forward and just kissing ass, hauling, hauling and hauling some more would get you a break or two. You might think that and you'd be wrong. At this point, I'm about ready to head into my old line of work. Seems no matter where you turn, there's an ass to kiss. Honestly, I think I've earned the right to say the words "Fuck You" to any and all who feel it necessary to take their shitty day out on me. Goddamn right.

First, I totally get that you're all frustrated. I'm there with you. I wish the technology companies would do ME the same favor that you're begging for...SLOW THE FUCK DOWN! I mean, seriously, do we really need a phone with a built-in obsolescence of six months? Hey, let me get settled into a device before you spring the next generation on us. Hey, I know, I know, all of us are wondering "What will they come up with next?" but that doesn't mean you have to jump all over it. Let me wallow in the bright lights and esoteric controls before springing something even more occult on us. Now, to the rest of you, as you can see, I'm just as tired of it as you are but look...they don't make shit like they used to. So do one of two things; tell them to slow it the hell down a bit or just accept that you're going to have to learn a new device. If you choose to do neither, fuck you, I'm not listening.

Second, I know you have things to do and time is short but, when it comes to computers and automated systems, you can count on two things: glitches will happen and that automated menu will be slow. Make peace with the fact that anything having to do with cellphones will take some time. If that's not something that appeals to you, forget it. Come back when you have time but do not back out when we're halfway through the system. Hang in there awhile and you might get some cool fucking shit coming your way as my own means of apologizing for the de-evolved fucktards on the other end that totally fucked you and me over. I'm in your corner and it works a lot like a tag-team match. The difference here is, when I fight, you get the win. You walk out with the title. When you walk out on me, we both lose out and then you find that you're outnumbered. For those of you who decide that I've wasted your time, fuck you. YOU do it next time.

Third, if you're coming to me, I'm assuming that you're looking for a solution. I'm here to present that. If your car window was busted open and all your electronic gear was stolen, the solution is simple...keep it with you. If you can't stand the fact that you might have to do that, leave it at home. If that's not something you can swing, I understand and I'll help you find a way around all that but if it seems like it's just too expensive, I have to know...how much did your broken window cost you? How much in gear did you lose? In comparison, it seems like a pretty small price to me. If you just can't wrap your thick fucking skull around the facts, fuck you, head elsewhere and make peace with the fact that a break-in will happen again and it will be your fault. I will not listen to your sob story a second fucking time.

Fourth, I pride myself on being honest and up front with you. If I don't know something, I'll tell you and I'm more than happy to find your answers for you. Whether or not you like them is up to you but all answers are final. If you decide that the answers I'm giving you are unsatisfactory, I understand. If you decide that the answers that I pass along to you are wrong when I know differently, fuck you. Remember that YOU came to ME...not the other way around. I am in power and I'm more than willing to share that power but turn on me, you forfeit your half.

Fifth, I don't know why prices are the way they are. Constantly repetition of the words, "This is ridiculous!" will not magically make them drop. I agree with you that some of these prices are fucking insane but, look, if you can get them cheaper elsewhere, go there. Should you choose to rant at me about it, guess what? Fuck...you. I can do fuck all about it. What you're looking for is right in front of you and if the price isn't right, just politely excuse yourself and go where they are. Life sucks, get a helmet.

Sixth, I'd like each one of you to reach into your wallets now if you can. Got some cash in there? Pull it all out and count it. Read on when you're done. Don't have cash? Look at your last bank statement. Before I continue on with this point, I'm going to go ahead and make you literally check something. Okay, now total all that money up. What you theoretically have in your bank account and what you have in your pocket...that's a reflection of your energy. If you're treating it like a scarcity model, it's going to be and look at that...look at how scarce it is. Now...how's your energy? Depleted? Got nothing left in the tank when you get home? Yeah, now welcome to my fucking world. See, when you come to me, I'm literally going to throw energy into this meeting. I present you with what you need based on what you tell me. If you refuse to work with me, I can't do much to alleviate the situation that you already have. If I look at my paycheck and it's small but my bills are high, this means that my energy is going into two separate places and I don't have enough of it to go around. Don't believe me? Next time you go into a Wal-Mart (and I can damn sure show you one) where the "associates" don't do shit, think of it this way...they have no fucking reason to do a damn thing other than jockey a register. That's part of their business. My business is different. My business is to make sure you make one stop to get what you need and rest easy knowing that you don't have to make several trips because some moron who doesn't know shit just pointed you in a general direction. When my paycheck comes back small and I've got nothing left to give, that means, to me that you thought my performance wasn't worth a dime. If that's the case then fuck you ya cheap punk-ass.

Seventh, I'm going to reiterate the previous point and expand on it a bit. I'm here to make some money. I'm not going to lie to you. I pride myself on being completely honest. "I'm sorry" won't pay my bills and, if you can't understand that, that's cool but try working for shit and having your livelihood at the mercy (or lack thereof) of the offspring of every Yuppie larvae on the face of the planet. If you're one of these people who are sick of the economy being what it is, I understand and totally agree but saving it isn't up to any politician and you see where that's gone. It's up to you. If the prices are a concern, I get that but when you're turning down ways of actually dropping some of those prices, then that's none of my fucking concern. I'm here to pay bills, put food on the table and see to my well-being. The next time you're bitching about some bum wanting your spare change, think for a minute. That guy's out to get your money so he can drink another day. Me? I'm out to get groceries. If you can't wrap your knuckle-dragging reverse Darwin-esque mind around that...fuck you, I've got no time for you. My time is worth money and I expect to be paid for my time. If that weren't the case, I wouldn't be there.

Eighth and Final Point. I'm not your therapist. I'm not a kid...I'm not YOUR kid. You're not royalty and I'm not some peasant. Your Lexus doesn't impress me. Your douchebag behavior of staring down your nose at me only serves to do one thing...give me something to aim at when I decide I've had enough. Your money doesn't make you better than me and if you want to engage in a pissing contest, I'm more than willing to oblige because you are born and bred to do only one thing...lose and lose horribly.

If you're there needing help, I'm more than willing to provide it but you have to meet me halfway here. If you're willing to work with me, I'm willing to work with you, that's the deal.

To illustrate, I have the following to offer:

Returns suck for the both of us. They suck for you because you didn't get what you needed. They suck for me because I lose out either way it goes. I'm going to ask for information and you'll have to give it. It's not something I particularly enjoy doing. I don't really care what your phone number is or where you live unless you and I are going to hang out later and, if that's the case, fuck it, just meet me at the bar and I'll spring for the hummus and beer...if I have the cash for it, that is. When you initially meet me, I'm going to ask tons of questions, I'm going to have a conversation with you. If you think you can handle it all by yourself, that's cool but, either way it goes, I'm going to get information out of you. Whether I get it now and have you walk out with your day made or whether I get it later and increase your frustration is totally up to you. Best word of advice I can give you is just humor me upon our first contact. When I get home, I don't write it all down. I don't have a database in which I'm going to tap your phone line and document your downfall and I don't work for the fucking C.I.A. I'm just required to take it all down in the computer at work. There's no conspiracy or sinister plot here...it's just policy and it's required of me. If that makes you uncomfy, I can completely relate. If you're just bound and determined to stay in your shell, find someplace where you can.

Speaking of which, I have to wonder why you are so scared to give out your email address but will automatically give me your credit card when I ask for it. Isn't there more damage I can do with your card?

Watch for future blogs where I begin to report people paying only in cash.

I understand that it's a big, scary world out there, people but if technology scares you so much, then why not actually help me to help you? I think that if you're that intellectually devoid, don't be surprised when I'm acting intellectually superior to you on my own time?

Right now, I feel like a microprocessor and I'm in the red and all I'm saying is that it's dangerous to fuck with a processor when it's in the red okay? I could blow.

Sony Decides To "Go Apple"

2009-10-22T17:03:00.002-05:00

Sony has a rap sheet that goes way beyond even my own expectations. Their constant unprosecuted criminal acts should have been enough of a shocker to those whom vote politicians in for the promise they'll be "tough on crime." Still, the electronics powerhouse has decided to do what Apple has done.

If you're anything like me, you like handheld video gaming/multimedia. Let's go back through a bit of history before we catch up to the last sentence and then we'll move forward.

One blogger pointed out a few years back that Sony/BMG had been installing root kits in their CDs without telling you. If you have any of the CDs from their artists, no doubt you've either played them on your computer or you've ripped them to your computer. If either of those is the case, consider this for a moment.

Imagine ordering a pizza. The Pizza guy delivers it, comes in, makes himself at home and opens your back door for the Pizza joint to investigate whenever they like. You don't like it and you ask him to leave...he refuses. You decide to forceably remove him and he proceeds to destroy parts of your home, kick the door off the hinges and then leave.

Not really appealing? Should be prosecuted, yeah? Well, not according to Sony. Their stance is that they should be able to resort to illegal behavior in order to protect their bottom line. Guess what? they got called on it and they got away with it. Now, they let you know that the crap's still there and they refuse to remove it. The illegal activity even inflamed their artists who decided that they wanted those illegal hacker tools OFF of their CDs. Nothin' doin', folks.

The next phase of criminal activity came when they decided to interrupt the free enterprise market with proprietary software in their PSPs. The same also goes for the PS2 and the PS3. Mess with it and screw up and your machines are as good as overpriced paperweights.

Let's move on to PSP's format, the Universal Media Disc or UMD. It didn't catch on in anything except gaming. They did make movies for PSP in the UMD format. While even I can see that as a novel approach, I just don't want to spend the money on PSP formatted movie discs when I can take my own DVDs and literally rip them to the memory sticks. I carry around far less and I can watch movies that Sony HASN'T bothered reformatting.

When it comes to laser-readable discs, what happens? File Sharing!

Now, I must admit that Sony's PSP was an awesome bit of kit but they had to expect that problems would present themselves.

Sony wanted ultimate control of what was done with their device even AFTER YOU made the purchase. Hackers being hackers, none of them decided to lay down on the tracks to await the train. They went to hacking. Some bricked their devices further proving that Sony brazenly told customers "You'll play with it our way or no way at all." Others, hacked with success only to have to re-hack every time a firmware update came.

Okay, look, Sony...it goes like this. When I pay my hard-earned dollars down for something...I become the owner. If you want to share ownership, then share responsibility and put it in writing or shut the fuck up.

Now, the PSP Go is the rage on the commercials. Pardon me while I laugh heartily at Sony's continued stupidity.

I know there's the old saying, "If you can't beat them, join them" but it seems as though Sony is going with the old Carlin idiom, "If you can't beat them, arrange to have them beaten." and doing it badly.

PSP Go boasts better features than the PSP or PSP Slim. One problem, it's download only and nothing is reverse compatible. So let's say that you're a bit old-school like me. When you buy something, you expect physical and tangible product in your hands. You expect to be able to take that product down to the local Game Shop to trade it in and get some credit towards a new game. Well, guess what? Nope, not today.

With the PSP Go, you have to snag the console, new memory sticks, new everything and guess what....you're buying your games all over again. Hope you weren't too invested in your previous one because, if you were, the trade-in value is not worth it.

What Sony is hoping to do is ride Apple's iPhone wave of downloadable apps. Yeah, okay, Sony, that's cool but you're forgetting something....most of the apps and games for iPhone are less expensive than most of your games...some of them are even free.

If they thought they had problems with piracy then, just wait, guys...this ship is going to sink like the Titanic comprised of a lead hull.

I must admit that the PSP Go does look awesome but what would have been better?

Well, let's have a look at a company making one hell of a knock-down, drag-'em-out return to gaming greatness...Nintendo. Nintendo's DS, DSi, and DS Lite don't seem to have many piracy issues. Could it be because the games are cartridges? I think so. Granted, the DS Lite doesn't have many of the features that the DS and DSi have but the DS also has something that the PSP doesn't...longevity without criminal behavior.

Then again, we are talking about Japan here...the land that spawned The Yakuza, The Ninja and Plumbers strung out on mushrooms.

What Apple Doesn't Want You To Know About iPhone

2009-10-18T20:02:00.003-05:00

I've had a change of heart about the iPhone. Apple's mobile juggernaut was once something that I wasn't excited about until I held and used one for the first time. After several extremely useful experiences, I was completely satisfied with it. Then again, when you go from a field that doesn't allow much for practical learning and application of electronics into one that pays you to know about them, it was very evident that I didn't know better.

First, let's go through the overall problems with iPhone. This is the stuff that Apple doesn't want you, the consumer, to know.

AT&T's insurance will not cover it. After asking the question hundreds of times to various sales associates and getting nowhere, I decided to ask once more. Worst they could do was tell me the same thing I'd always heard, "I don't know." This time, I did not get that answer. Apparently, the premiums and deductibles would be too high for any practical insurance application. This was the answer I got. Apparently, no one wants to take that longshot bet. Insurance companies seemed to have formed some semblance of a conscience.

As an iPhone 3G user, there's not much in the way of incentive to make me upgrade. I upgraded to this phone from a Motorola RAZR V3r (Fire Engine Red) with removable memory for this phone because I have text happy people around me. The differences between iPhone 3G and iPhone 3GS are extremely few. The 3GS does have a faster processor, more RAM and more storage space but that's about it. Any of the other apps that come standard on the phone will work on mine and, yes, mine also has the multimedia messaging with the upgrade to iPhone's OS (3.0). Seeing as these are really the only differences, where is the incentive to shell out nearly $300 for an upgrade? Should I start jacking with the source code to further customize the phone, I'll probably brick it, the battery isn't user-replaceable and the only way to charge the battery is to charge it while the damn thing is on. Not exactly smart.

Then, it gets really shady on the business end of the deal. See, Apple and AT&T locked into one of those deals of Mephistopheles proportions. Apple basically names the price and decides when or if it will decrease. There were further financial applications that AT&T had to meet, among them, exorbitant royalty expenses for the "privelege" of carrying the iPhone. Guess who is paying that cost? Need a hint? iPhone Users! That's right, high costs of data plans and no way in hell you're getting cut any breaks whatsoever. Thanks, guys! I can't tell you how much I just looooooove forking over that much money every month when others aren't getting hit that hard because they're using different phones!

Now, let's go with practical application. First, let's just say you like making custom ringtones. Get ready for a fucking headache. You have one of two options and they are as follows:

Option #1: Purchase the song from iTunes (99 cents per song) use Garageband to select one section of the song and then run that through the ringtone maker in iTunes and then...I'm not joking here...buy that ringtone version of the song (almost a staggering $3.00 per tone) and there ya go. Okay, so let's recap. You'll pay 99 cents for a FULL version of the song and then almost $3.00 for less than 30 seconds of it. Still like the status symbol that this thing is? Okay...but also consider that you have to select from iTunes' selection. That's right, if you didn't buy it through iTunes, you're not getting it.

Option #2: See, I'm the kind of guy that got my music legally. What I don't have on CD, some band tossed me a digital download because of the promotional work that I used to do. I don't have shit to prove to any corporation, I don't give a flying fuck what Steve Jobs thinks. If any of them think I do...fuck you. Fucking prove I that my digital copies are illegal. The real problem is that most of the music I like is independent. I like very little mainstream shit anymore. So when I like a band, I show it by making others listen to it as a ringtone when someone calls me and it never fails, I usually get asked, "Hey, what ringtone is that?" So that means I have to find a way to circumvent that numbshit three buck per crap. There are plenty of instructional how-to sites on the subject but if you know what it takes to make the tones, it's a pain in the fucking ass. So, pay three bucks per or just circumvent it with one of the instructional how-to sites. I think it's pretty obvious which one I chose to do.

Which brings me to a whole new series of issues...portability issues. No, it's pretty easy to carry around. I'm talking about music. If iTunes undergoes an update and you have to upgrade, don't sync the phone to your computer or you will lose playlists, songs and...RINGTONES! This means you're going to be stuck with that numbfuck marimba tone for anyone you assigned a ringtone to when you were painstakingly customizing it. Yep, you're going to have to repopulate your library (not exactly a first for iPod users) and then re-add everything but pictures. Everytime there's a new update for the firmware on iPhone...guess what? Same thing. You can't escape it. Not only that but the only way you're going to sync this thing to your laptop AND desktop are if your iTunes accounts are set up in an identical fashion on both computers. If not, be ready for the pain because there's only one direction in which the music goes...TO the device, FROM the computer.

Okay so with a lack of customization ability, a battery that takes a goddamned experienced technician to replace and bone-stock everything on top of a headache, it's pretty obvious that Apple has not bothered listening to actual consumer demand and brazenly naming their price in the process. While I can hardly fault them for fooling me, I can be thankful that it's a mistake I will not repeat.

I seem to remember a commenter somewhere on the web mentioning to me (as though it were scripture) that Apple would dominate the cellphone market. Here's a reality check that won't bounce; Apple will only dominate the market if it does three things:

1. Become their own cellphone provider.

2. Offer better service than all others with rates that are competitive and comparable rather than assume people will just pay.

3. Listen to consumer demand and act on it accordingly.

Then and only then, everyone. Frankly, I'm not holding my breath on that. When I have to purchase a bulky $50 case simply because no insurer of cellphones will touch them...I think it's pretty obvious what's going on. Not only that, but if you have to know the harsh truth about this product...it took AT&T a minimum of 17 months to recuperate any kind of profit off of this device...17 months! I'd hoped AT&T would have been smart enough to see the error in this sort Enron-proportioned investment.

Verizon customers, listen up. If you're waiting and chomping at the bit for Verizon's version of the iPhone, just turn away from it now. It's going to be a CDMA version of the phone rather than a GSM and will NOT be worth your money. If you thought Verizon's rates are murder on your pocketbook now...just wait for the first six months post iPhone release. The wailing about how high the bills will be due to the insane royalties that Verizon will have to pay will not surprise me in the least.

If you want to know the difference between a CDMA version of any phone and a GSM, just read Wallace Wang's book Steal This Computer Book 4.0 to get a real education on the world of cellphones.

I still have about a little over a year left on my contract with AT&T over this thing and, quite frankly, I'm not about to go for the iPhone 3GS. It's not worth it in the least. I think what I'm going to do instead is continue to search for a phone that is not only comparable but far more suitable (and I think I've already found one) and, sadly, that might have cost AT&T a customer as well. Honestly, I think this is about as good as AT&T gets and it's just not that great in my opinion.

I know many of you may be thinking that this means I'm all-out boycotting Apple's iPods as well. No. I haven't found any MP3 players that have served me as well as the iPods have. I still think I should have gone with my first instinct and purchased an iPod Touch a long time ago and simply upgraded to a Palm Treo or something of that sort. Realistically, I think it would have been the better choice. Reloading an iPod might be a pain in the ass but at least I don't have to worry about some painstaking process of resetting all my settings on it. I mostly use it to play media and that's about it. Call me old school but that's about all I really do with it.

As for smartphones, trust me when I say this...there are far better out there. They all have their cons but do you really want a cellphone company aiming for penetration when it comes to the phone of your choice? I didn't think so.

Sorry, Apple, but you had to know that the illusion would wear off eventually.

Episode 22: Carry Some Useful Info

2009-10-07T01:28:00.002-05:00

I'm actually sitting here listening to the Mr. Mister song "Kyrie" in which some of you will know that the lyrics to the chorus are as follows:

Kyrie Eleison down the road that I must travel
Kyrie Eleison through the darkness of the night
Kyrie Eleison where I'm going will you follow
Kyrie Eleison on a highway in the light...

For those of you who don't know, the words "Kyrie Eleison" mean "Lord, have mercy" in Greek and is commonly used in Catholic and Greek Orthodox rituals.

I didn't know any of that until tonight when we heard the song in Fuddrucker's Restaurant. In all my infinite wisdom, I decided to do what I do best, I whipped out my phone and did a full-scale plunge through cyberspace to find that little sect of lyrics staring back at me...and it didn't make a lick of sense at all.

I frantically searched for a story behind the song only to find that the phrase had been translated to make more sense to me.

I felt like an idiot. For years I thought they were saying "Carry a Laser." Bringing that point up only made Misty laugh her ass off at me as though I were announcing that, in this information Superage...I was still using a Tandy 1000 RL.

"You were brought up Catholic," she said, "You went through catechism!"

"I went to catechism in Darwin's Waiting Room, honey," I said.

"Yeah but they should have taught you this," she responded.

"Baby," I said, "They were too busy trying to piss down my back and tell me it was raining with the bullshit about D&D and Ozzy Osbourne. It's not like I had anything that had evolved past the point of chimp teaching me. Hell, they refused to let me take the German class in High School for fuck's sake."

"Well they taught us what stuff like that meant," she said.

For the first time in my life, not only did I feel like a complete moron but I thought I'd been cheated by life.

Then I came upon these comments on a website:

I also thought it was "carry a laser" which was espeially poignant as I was working in a laser hair removal salon when I first noticed this song. I think the Muzak folks must have thought it was about lasers too!
- Christie, Sacramento, CA

This was a great road song! I was a Jr. in high school when this song came out. Great memeories of me and all my friends hanging out at Old Hickory Lake
- Big Ed, Pulaski, TN

These guys are very talented musicians. Do you yourself a favor and check out their first CD, "I Wear The Face" as well as their third, "Go On."
- Don, Chicago, IL

Having been raised Catholic, and being *just* old enough to remember Greek and Latin being used in certain places at Mass, I always knew they were singing "Kyrie Eleison" and what it meant. And I liked the whole Mr. Mister series of hits, even including the last semi-hit, "Is It Love," which everyone else seems to have forgotten. "Broken Wings" gets the volume cranked up every time it comes on.
- Clarke, Pittsburgh, PA

A friend and myself were talking about this song because he was makin a cd with songs that have girls names in them. He was wrong and so was I. We both thought it was Carry a laser. Now the song makes more sence.
- Steve, Rochester, NY

The first religious song i have sung
- Alberto Colonna, turin, Italy

It's like a prayer because the singer asks for help in all life's difficulties simbolyzed by the road
- Alberto Colonna, turin, Italy

It's a very beautiful song so deep
- Alberto Colonna, turin, Italy

Hey, I thought it was 'carry a laser' too! How funny! I have always wanted to know that lyric.
- Shannon, Palisade, CO

Mr.Mister was a band made up of session artists. Richard Page now does Contemporary Christian Music
- Joe, St. Louis, MO

I was 13 when this song came out and my sister was 7. he thought the chrorus was the phrase..."Carry a laser"
- chet, saratoga springs, NY

Thanks, all of you. Now I know that I'm not the only one that was ill-informed. Christos eleison if I had actually performed a karaoke version of that.

Episode 21: Random Data Directory File Listing

2009-10-06T22:42:00.003-05:00

1. Columbine, The Vampire Cult and The D&D Killings weren't my fault. That should put your mind at ease. If it doesn't, don't piss me off...you never know what I could do next. Remember...I AM that powerful.

2. I've seen a lot of movies. Most of them don't involve sports. I'm not interested in the ones that involve sports. If it seems like I'm listening, I'm not. I'm only being polite until I can change the subject. Exceptions to this rule are Major League, Major League 2 and Necessary Roughness.

3. I know lots of useless shit. I don't know why I know it or how. I just know it. Deal with it.

4. If I start getting pissy about a frivolous lawsuit it's because I grew up in a much different generation. We went out and played. We got into fights. We got banged up, bashed up, fucked up and fucked off. We sued no one and we got nothing out of it but thick skin and the most important thing...integrity.

5. I tried fitting in...it didn't work so I got into what I actually like. If that pisses you off then take a look at your social situation. Are you one of the in crowd types? If you are, it's your fault.

6. I sucked at math but I rocked at Civics. If you need proof of this, get into a political discussion with me and get ready to have your ass handed to you.

7. Pardon me if I get off on an '80s music kick. I grew up in that time. Shit happens.

8. If I think you're a yuppie scumbag, it's probably true.

9. If I seem cold and uncaring, try saying something really fucking interesting to me. If it hasn't worked after about ten minutes, find someone else to bother.

10. Remember when kids experimented and were encouraged to do so? No better teacher than experience, no better classroom than life...whatever the fuck happened to that?

11. Basic survival classes consisted of getting lost in the woods and trying to find your way back to civilization.

12. Remember when it was safe to make sand castles on a sandbar and then go for a swim in the lake?

13. Both my parents worked and still saw us off to school, made our meals, made sure we finished homework, made sure we didn't get our asses in too many slings and even taught us to respect a gun and not fuck around with dangerous things so pardon me if I think the excuses are bullshit.

14. It was a basic rite of passage to shed your fear of horror films ...at 13 years old on out.

15. Ever notice that WWE: Monday Night Raw isn't as fun to watch now that it's all "clean?"

16. Where was Metallica when we were making mixtapes?

17. If it won't work here, why is it working in other countries? Think about that one next time you're arguing for cellphone exclusivity deals or the keeping marijuana illegal.

18. Why is it okay for a large company to resort to criminal behavior with impunity but when I do it, I'll have pin pulled on a legal grenade to be thrown at me?

19. What happened to having a discussion? Have catchy slogans become the new irrefutable proof?

20. Be prepared to look like a moron when you call me a "conspiracy whacko." Nothing written in blood or stone (or on paper for that matter) says I HAVE to believe what my government tells me. I CAN and WILL ask for proof. I also CAN and WILL hold what they say against them. Last I checked, I was born in America, land of the free and I'll think what I like and you'll like it.

21. Final Point: I haven't understood a damned thing since 1997.

Episode 20: The Colossus That Is Power

2009-09-22T21:14:00.002-05:00

I want someone, anyone to just roundhouse kick me in the fucking mouth. Not Chuck Norris, though...that would do me in for good.

I know that many of you, my dear readers are really wanting to know why I'd request such a thing. It's because I didn't think to invent the iGo chargers. If it's one thing that was driving Misty up a fucking wall, it wasn't all the electronic gadgets, gizmos, doodads and whoozemwhatzitz I carry with me at all times. It's all the chargers.

At any given time, in our bedroom, there was a charger for about six or seven portable devices though I only used maybe two a total of seven days a week. All those cables were everywhere and I kept losing the charger to my emergency backup phone. I still keep a Virgin Mobile around just in case my iPhone died at a really inopportune time. Not only that but the only way for me to charge my Palm TX was to leave my computer running and charge it through the sync cable which was the worst thing I could do. I didn't want to have to fire up the computer just to charge a device.

If necessity is the mother of invention, frustration is definitely the father.

Enter the iGo charger.

I stopped into a local RadioShack to pick one up and I had a shopping list of tips. I'd done my research on this device and I was initially turned off by the "i" in iGo. I thought it was a cheap marketing gimmick that was one of the most insipid and trite gimmicks ever conceived. Every time I turned around there was a new iProduct on the market; The iPod, The iTouch, The iPhone, The iHome and now, The iGo. It wasn't just the name of the product line that initially turned me off but it was the seemingly insipid puns like The iGo Everywhere Max (for laptops) and, to me, the price just wasn't right at all.

I'd been considering some ways to organize the chargers until I finally finished the research and talked to owners of the iGo Solution. I'd finally listened to those in the know and found, much to my horror, they were right. This charger was the way to go.

The first thing I charged was my Palm TX and, though the battery was stone dead, this thing rapidly charged the device awesomely. Later, at a restaurant, I'd strategically chosen a table near a power port and plugged in, this time I plugged in my iPhone as it was running low and I was expecting a call from a friend. For this particular tip, if you're an OtterBox user like me, remove the OtterBox. It gets in the way of the tip. It worked and got me enough of a charge to keep the Google Map feature going as well as allowing me to look up info on my favorite Heroes characters until we returned home. We weren't at the restaurant for too long. When the iGo says it "rapidly" charges your devices, they don't screw around.

I usually talk a lot about my electronic devices but it's the power aspect I fail to mention.

Got that locked in your brain? Good. Here's where the really cool part comes in and I hope The Church doesn't mind that I shopped at The Shack but they were right there. I know that my high priest is going to be pissed at me for that. Not that I really care, I needed a solution and I don't give a crap and a half about the heresy I've committed. Okay, cool part, right. All I bought was ONE charger. That's right...ONE wall charger. I ended up with interchangeable tips for my Virgin Mobile Phone, my iPhone, my iPod, my Palm TX and my PSP (PlayStation Portable) and a splitter for charging two devices at once. This is when I learned just how the buying process works at The Shack.

When you buy a Charger (Home or Auto), Splitter, USB Cable or Backup Battery, you get five bucks off your first tip. Trick is, make a shopping list of your devices. Make sure you have model numbers if you need to. The Sales Associate at RadioShack is more than happy to look them up for you. Make your list along with the prices. I'm going to warn you ahead of time that you're probably going to spend a decent amount (a good charging solution is probably going to run you almost $100 if you have multiple devices) but the money you save on lost chargers is worth it. Get your home charger, a splitter and all your tips or just a few for starters and revel in the genius of this product.

You leave one charger plugged in, if you're only charging one device, pop that tip on to the open end and charge your device, when you're ready to charge your next device, switch tips. If you need to charge two at once, pop a tip onto each open end of the splitter and then pop the whole thing onto the open end of the charger. You get the picture. Need to store the tips, a simple, cheap camera case is ideal for keeping your tips or, if you only have a couple of tips, there is a nice little holder designed to hold two tips on the cable of the charger itself. iGo has really made an awesome product.

Now why do I want someone to roundhouse kick me in the fucking mouth? Because I wish I had thought of it.

Episode19: Cagerattler

2009-08-26T23:29:00.002-05:00

So I'm in one hell of a pickle here. I can't do live radio because my schedule is about as wonky as it gets. I can't do podcasting yet because I don't have the equipment and, to top things off, I have lots to rant about.

It seems the thin-skinned have taken over The Nationwide Idiot Box and, quite frankly, I'm sick of it. The adjoining boards are filled with people whining and pissing and moaning about shit that just simply doesn't matter. So, I've decided that, since I don't have a punching bag yet, it was time to start doing what I do best...rattling cages.

If it's one thing I've been hearing about incessantly it's about Bravo TV's message board. I decided to slip on the ninja mask and go in. Deep cover mission and the objective was simple: Get Banned or Get a show on Bravo where I verbally abuse my choice of guests and get paid to do it. I let a typing equivalent of verbal diarrhea go.

Now, I won't go into great detail and bore you with it all but if it's one thing I hate it's when people play the race card. It's fucking stupid and it's irresponsible.

Yes, I'm sorry but your Racism Platinum Card has been declined...apparently it's maxed the hell out.

Look, it's really simple, folks. Claiming that Bravo is racist is about like calling George W. Bush intelligent and reliable.

Suck it up, rise above it. Life isn't scripted. It doesn't always go the way you planned. To pass the buck by playing the race card yet again is about as responsible as letting the TV babysit your kid and, we see what happens when that's let go. It's about as responsible for passing the buck to rock n' roll and Dungeons and Dragons for your kid's interest in Satanism and suicide. If your kid killed himself or someone else because of what Gene Simmons had to say then he had it coming. Something was going to get that kid. A Delinquent tax return or a Bravo rerun...something. Doesn't matter what. Count it as a lost cause.

Now we can blame others or some intangible reason that our "hero" didn't win on a million different things but I prefer to go with the judges' decisions whether I agree with them or not, nothing will change them. You had to expect this from Bravo's inability to effectively deal with and hold onto one of their golden calves but I digress.

Look, blame it on genetics. Blame the president. Blame urine-poor timing or one bad stitch, death, hell, love and salvation...just one fix.

Sorry, had a Ministry moment there.

Two things are for certain...First rule of Fight Club is you don't talk about Fight Club and Reco could have done any number of things and the thing he chose to do did not work out for him. Most of these competitors' necks been on the block many times before and he should not be surprised...it was only a matter of time before the guillotine blade dropped but pulling their necks out of the hole of the frame was completely up to them and they failed to do that.

Now, I'll admit that not only am I bald but I'm a whitebread, roundeye, honkey cracker devil like many others and I refuse to apologize for that. I am me without apologies, like it or not but I don't have any guilt over ignorant past-burned fires. The fact that there are those that still hold onto that are as guilty of living in the past as those who still go in search for "them thar minoritees." This is a lot like taking a hickory stick to a dead horse while you are, no doubt, seen as derriere of said horse

Your Race Card is maxed out and I'm just refusing White Guilt payments any further. So is Bravo's cheap knock-off. Deal with that.

My rant along these lines hasn't gotten me banned yet but I'm waiting for that axe to fall.

Right now, I see my mission as kicking in the door, grabbing everyone's drink, downing it, kicking the bathroom door off it's hinges and dropping a load, not flushing...then raping the dog and leaving.

Okay, I sense I've gone too far with that but I don't care. I'm leaving that ball where it was played.

Episode 18: What Caused The Fall of The Empyre?

2009-08-17T23:11:00.002-05:00

The Emperor His Own Bad Mothafuckin Self Did.

That's right, folks. The Genocydal Empyre is gone. Dead, gone, fallen, forever. It's all over. We're hanging up the whole damned mess.

Now the question that has been on some minds. Why?

We all felt it was time to move on. The Genocydal Empyre and it's subsequent versions (2.0, 3.0 and Omega) had become a living, breathing thing and it was just too damned big for us to do anything with it.

When I moved out of Louisiana, I vowed that it would be time to start a new life. It was time for a new adventure and I launched without too much in the way of hesitation. Lots of elements of my old life went bye-bye on the road.

First among them, I don't live in a house where I can get completely loud and blast off like I used to. I'm in this cube with paper-thin walls. I'm sure the dude upstairs won't mind, he has pretty good taste in music. The dude across the hall wouldn't exactly care either but I'm sure our neighbor above him might mind a bit and, as is the unwritten rule of larger cities. you don't step on anyone's toes and you stay out of each others' way.

The Genesis of The Genocydal Empyre was a culmination of talk radio shows that I'd been doing and rock shows that I was convinced weren't being done the right way. I wanted to do everything my way...even if only for self-entertainment. I never thought so many of you would be on board and I was not only surprised by your support but I was honored. For all the bands out there who hopped onboard this one-way bullet train to hell, I thank you for believing in us and giving us the opportunity to support you. I found a lot of you worked your asses off and made far superior music than any corporation has ever pushed. For all the listeners who returned and continued listening to my tirades, thank you. It's because of you that The Genocydal Empyre was as successful as it was.

For bands and listeners alike, I hope that your support will continue. Yes, The Genocydal Empyre is over but that doesn't mean a damned thing because we will be unveiling a new project just as soon as we start ironing out details.

As promised, the only detail that we have is that the show will no longer be a live show but will be a podcast instead. The Genocydal Empyre could not be scaled down to podcast level without becoming the biggest disappointment in 'net radio history. I'm simply not leaving you with something low-quality. I brought you only the best music on the internet complimented with the best talk topics and the best weird news. There's no damn way in hell I'm going to try to shrink it down. The Genocydal Empyre was all about shooting it's ever-open mouth off into space.

The way I figured it, it was just time to grow up and bring it back down to earth.

Don't worry, when it comes to the podcasts, we'll still have all the same shit you've come to love about The Genocydal Empyre but we'll be improving on what we did best and that was have fun.

So, stay tuned. Keep your eyes and ears open and let's see if we can't do better than what we did before.

Again, thanks to all of you for your continued support and I hope to see you guys sooner, rather than later.

Sincerely,
Damien V. Cross, formerly Lord Genocyde
Night City, NJ

Episode 17: The Young And The Wireless

2009-08-16T20:46:00.002-05:00

I'm currently tweeting, doing Facebook and MySpace all from my phone. Now before anyone gets any ideas in their head, it's not because I'm so stuck on it that I need my phone to do it all for me. It's just a matter of convenience for me. Look, I could take pics with my phone and then strip them off using iTunes and then upload them, post a link and all that shit but the truth is, when you get down to the end of the day, this is what the gadget is made for...making your life easier. It Niiiiice.

So, recently, I went through my phone and deleted a bunch of apps. Most of the apps I deleted seemed like pretty good apps at the time. Looking back on them, I've had them for over a year and I've hardly ever activated them. Now, I don't know if anyone's ever done this but I actually downloaded an app called 1,001 Free Ringtones.

No it's not. It was too late for me to realize that it was actually only 250. I got the lite version. I get the rest when I fork over the money.

Gather 'round, everybody, let us reason together. I am what you call an audiophile. If I like some type of sound, I will listen to it almost ad nauseum to others because I can't fuck it.

I think that might have been a little too much information for the rest of you but fuck it, I don't care.

Let's get back on topic. I make all my own ringtones. I literally take a song I like, run it through a sound program, cut out what I want, reformat it a couple of times through iTunes and pop it onto my phone.

...take THAT Steve Jobs. Only people you're foolin' are those that don't know better.

I know, I know. I can hear what you're thinking, "But Damien, you're ripping off and exploiting artists."

No I'm not. Every tone I've got is from some really good band that corporate labels don't give a shit about. Those people work hard and they have music that I like. I'd fuck every song on the playlist if I could. Audiophile, people...audiophile.

I started running through some of the tones on this app and then, I found myself thinking "Shit, I could make better sounding tones than this!"

So why didn't I delete this app? Because now I have ideas! Sure, I've got some really cool tones that not many others have. I did stick both CTU tones from the TV series 24 on my phone. That was fun in Louisiana when I was in line at Dairy Queen.

Understand that there was nothing sinister going on except the local yayhoos deciding that they's listen in when someone would contact you at the wrong time. Let me give you an idea of what would go on during one of those scenarios.

*standing in line when CTU ringtone sounds*

*Pick up*

Cyber Terrorism Unit...what? Aw Fuck, you're kidding. No....no....li....listen....listen to me, goddammit! I told you not to install that. Now, you've got the whole infrastructure exposed over your damn love of video games.

I don't give a shit if it is an evolved version of Asteroids, I told you to hook that shit up to the breakroom TV. Yeah, well, guess what? No, I DO have my computer on me but I'm getting something to eat. Haven't eaten all day because of that one clusterfuck you caused. Yeah, well, you better hope none of our enemies notice in the next ten minutes or you're going to be publicly blamed for this one.

*hang up*

Naturally, this would cause a small group to come by my laptop to see my Matrix screen saver going when I'd come back from my bathroom. I loved watching the villagers in Darwin's Waiting Room, Louisiana squirm.

This is what I love about New Jersey. I really have to step up my game. I can't recycle all my old humor here.

I think I've just ventured farther off topic than ever and it's a wonder you didn't pull the plug on that fuckin' bit.

I've been up too early for this shit.

Technology has become a modern miracle. Remember back when a mobile phone was the size of a brick? You could literally build a city out of how many of these things were produced. Then, there were the phones that had the little flip out panels and kept you from accidentally pressing a key at a bad time. Next were the phones that were about the size of a modern cordless phone and then phones that could support video games and so on so forth until now, you can literally play games, read full-length books, call someone, use the internet and send pictures back home almost immediately.

Technology also illustrates that you can't fix stupid. It also has this uncanny ability to bring out the stupid in everyone. Some more than others. At times, I'd swear that technology only makes more people dumber and dumber by the minute.

Sure, many times over, gizmos will be available to make life much more easy.

I'm afraid, try as we might, it won't fix stupid.

Episode 16: Sound, Fury And Signal

2009-08-08T23:17:00.002-05:00

Days at The Church have gotten better but not by much. I still have people coming in knowing full well that there are just some questions they shouldn't bother asking.

See, I have a high tolerance for ignorance but a low tolerance for stupidity. Let me just clarify the two for you so that you completely comprehend the very things that I'm going to write about tonight.

Data Transmission Available...

Definitions File Loading...

Ignorance: A state suggestive of an oblivious nature to information on certain subjects.

Loading....

Stupidity: A state suggestive of an oblivious nature to information on certain subjects willfully induced and enforced by current desire to know less than the person to whom you are speaking. (B) A belief system that one knows all but cannot perform simple tasks based on said knowledge.

Data Transmission Complete...

Okay, got that? Gooooood! Attempting to appeal to people on any sort of level sucks. Don't get me wrong, I love my job with an intensity never before experienced. I love the whole electronic aspect of my job. I get to play with shit and then deliver my sermons. We're in a pretty wealthy area but I have never met so many uptight yuppies in my entire life. Honestly, the only thing I'm not worried about is the place being robbed when I go in. The laser-guided security system goes apeshit whenever I get in thirty minutes earlier than normal. Half of the time, I find more people impeding my progress than a protest crowd at a PETA convention.

The other half of the time, I'm asking myself, "What can this bit of electron heaven do for me?"

That's when a Revelation hit me...I've been relying too heavily on the higher-end equipment. I recently came across a radio that operates by crank or solar power. Built-in flashlight, dynamo crank, AM/FM and weatherband...this one has it all and I can charge my phone with it. Not only that but it's smaller than one of those AM/FM/Cassette Players. It's one of the best "Doomsday" tools ever devised. When the computers shut down, communication from the disembodied voices will still come through because this isn't one of those digital tuners. Even the AM channels are sounding better these days.

The conversion to digital signal in radio was far better than the whole TV conversion idea. I can't remember where but I know I read that it's now required by law for people to have an emergency radio. That's fine. Too bad they couldn't do the same with radio that which they did with TV.

I spent the first night with this small device, listening to it but I already only have one problem with it, every time I turn it on, the FM rock station is playing fuckin' Nirvana. Not that I don't like Nirvana but don't you think that's a little spooky? Each time I've turned it on or tuned into the rock station, Nirvana plays.

I also tuned in to AM Radio for a little while. I now know I can get on the air but I'm going to be confrontational about it. I had to listen to this real numbshit broad drone on and on ad nauseum about how marijuana is a gateway drug. She was literally going Chapter And Verse Biblically speaking, illustrating how evil marijuana is. Oh, it's a gateway drug and it's ooooohhhhh so addictive. Yeah, yeah, yeah, what the fuck ever.

I'm sick of these idiots on my airwaves trying to pass on that bullshit to me. Okay, but I'll bite this old hook. It's first-term Clinton Programming anyway. It should be rusty enough to be brittle. I've smoked it on several occasions and never felt an absolute need for it. The cancer rate this woman droned on about was one I could have taken her on with shit right off the top of my head. It was very obvious that this woman was only using the marijuana issue as a moral argument and that was another point. I want to know every deviant act she's ever done through her life from others who have known her objectively. I guarantee her moral standing is actually lying the fuck down. She's already lying about marijuana and not conducting the studies herself. Aside from being irresponsible, she's also dishonest and telling people what they want to hear. The blind lead the stupid and you can only get that on her show which is a radio equivalent to Darwin's Waiting Room.

Remember, those who despise people who are involved in a spiritual belief system of any type and I'm only offering this. Don't blame me for what you hear on shows like that. Obviously, this woman has been hurt. Someone wouldn't share their stash or she's never done it enough to know what the benefits are and I implore everyone to feed her a batch of hash brownies to show her that it's possible to use it without smoking it. That was her only focus was the smoking of it.

Such primitive concepts were what built this world. Sure, in the world of communications, the radio was the first news center, the first entertainer. It was a pioneer and it was innovative. The only problem was that it was never interactive until hosts started taking mail, then phone calls and now, the 'net has taken over but, sometimes, the old standby works when the new technology craps out.

Communication was what the first radios were all about. Getting word out without having to wait for a hard copy newspaper written by elitists. Now we have the news read to us by elitists. Sadly, it's not enough. I still love radio. Radio will serve us in order to keep us from being total dumbasses if we just listen to it if we can put some voices of dissention on the air once or twice.

This is where the 'net triumphs and always will.

Episode 15: Network Brainwashing

2009-08-05T23:45:00.002-05:00

If ever there was a shred of doubt in your mind that Mind Control exists in America TODAY, then allow me to totally shit on your precious little fantasy that everything's okay and cable TV is not trying to brainwash you. They are. It's a sinister plot and I have the total proof. All I needed was one night and bang...it happened.

I can't stand much of anything that comes out of Bravo TV. I just can't. The Real Housewives of Anywhere makes my stomach want to go into varying stages of dry-heaving, The Fashion Show makes me want to go find the first coke dealer and O.D. and all of those other reality shows make me want to take a spoon to my wrists in the hopes of committing suicide.

The only show that I could only really take and congratulate the contestants on was Top Chef Masters. These guys show that not every Master Chef has a great day. The difference between those chefs and other contestants...they don't resort to childish bullshit. I guess that's what makes them true culinary masters.

Look, it's really simple to figure out here, everyone. It's no secret that my television programming these days is about as devoid of testosterone as a symposium of nuns being catered by The Amish. I haven't seen any wrestling but one time since I've moved. I didn't get to see any once the roomies moved in in Louisiana because I had to endure (while trying to drink myself to death) I.Q.-ravaging shows like My Sweet Sixteen or some bullshit like that. I never said a word about any of it.

One U.F.C. match per week would suffice. Is it any wonder why a guy like me who doesn't care for sports doesn't mind ESPN at work?

Now, since my exposure to TV is severely restricted, I think I'm going to go with both of those networks as examples.

First, let's take ESPN. Nice call on Steve McNair...boneheads.

Steve McNair, found shot to death with an unidentified female. They mentioned he was married. I think even Nostradamus came up with a prediction to that ending.

The next day...Steve McNair was shot by his girfriend in a murder/suicide.

Why do I remember that with such clarity? Because it was run over and over and over again. Michael Jackson's death up to the minute? He's Still Dead!

Tonight, the same episode of Top Chef Masters was played, I'm not kidding, three consecutive times.

Look, let me fill you networks in on a little something mkay? I don't need to see the same thing three times in a row. It's really quite easy to understand. I don't need a network to be that repetitive...I fucking get it okay?

There's only one reason for this type of repetition and it's something straight outta Orwell's writings. Brainwashing is the name of the game.

It's the reason that mantras and other types of chants work so well. Repeat something long enough, and soon, everyone will believe it.

Am I wrong? Am I off the mark here?

Okay. In that case, if you're glued to the same show three times, then you really need to reexamine your priorities. If you see it only once and it reruns, then change the channel. I don't need it running in the background. If you visit the boards relating to those shows and you need a show reference that badly, I have two words for you...

YOU TUBE!!!!

Episode 14: The Killer's Last Stand

2009-08-03T23:31:00.002-05:00

I'm done doing battle. It's finished and over. I'm now hardwired in and cruising at maximum velocity through the datastream. I'm howling along the superhighway at a speed yet unrecognized by anyone on the planet.

The past week has been marked by frustration. The eMachine died and I'd ordered a Dell. From the technical specs, this would have been the best one yet.

Let's get down to business. First, I got the machine in and popped the hood. The only piece of hardware that I could effectively transpose was the sound card. That meant my secondary hard drive would not fit. Nor would any of my other optical drives. Imagine my frustration at that.

Okay, no problem. I would just have to get an adapter for my hard drives. Second, program installation became a daily ordeal. Vista had it's problems, sure, but never like this. Installing each program only caused me to have to reconfigure settings, experience computer lockup and, worse yet, once I installed Audition (my sound editing program), the whole thing locked up like a kid with epilepsy and had a meltdown.

My laptop has the same version of Vista and the worst that's ever happened to it was a color scheme incompatibility. Not that that was ever that huge of an issue...at least it still worked. With the Dell Studio 540, the whole system went sideways. The taskbar reverted to a Windows 98 look and most of my programs vanished. It was as though they never existed.

By day four, the thing was blue screening and crashing on startup.

The day before, I'd called Tech support. I'd bought the computer within the allotted time frame and it did have Vista Home Premium, I should have been able to upgrade to Windows 7 for free.

Nope, not even. Apparently, there was going to be hardware driver issues with that operating system.

It's things like that that make me want to randomly scream the word "FUCK" at random.

I mulled it over at work on day four and when I got home, I thought about just biting the bullet and working with it. That's when it started blue screening.

Long story short, this thing simply won't work for what I need it to do. I was lead to believe it would, Strike One. I was also the victim of the unannounced fifteen percent restocking fee, Strike Two. Then, there was the unannounced fact that I'd get my money back on it THIRTY DAYS after the computer is returned. Strike. Fucking. Three.

Keep in mind, the whole time this is going on, I've got some tech guy telling me that he's going to be working on getting me a replacement. Now, I don't even want to deal with them anymore. I'm already of the mind that if I find the first motherfucker that works for this company or see one of those irritating Lollipop commercials ever again, I'm going to destroy the TV that displayed it or pop the shit out of the employee for the irritation they've caused me.

This technician called me back while I was on the road Sunday to tell me he'd come to save the day. I told him I'd already taken care of the problem. Today, some chick from Dell calls me at work to tell me that I'm eligible for a heavily discounted computer.

Okay, look. You can knock some cash off of the price if you want but you know damned good and well that the damn restock fee will make up for that so fuck no.

The night that I started repacking the computer, we'd found an HP with....ready to be sick?

*taking in a deep breath*

750 GB Hard drive, every card reader ever concieved, a lightscribe optical drive (meaning that I don't have to transpose the other one that I own) 8GBs of RAM and an AMD Phenom Quad-Core Processor.

I'm currently sending my office chair off to have a crash harness and rollbar installed. Now, the litmus test came tonight when I installed Audition. Guess what? Nothing. It works. I can't stick any of my old shit into this thing but really, would I need to?

Dell seems to be of the mind that their shit doesn't stink. I'm here to prove otherwise. Once I'm done installing all the shit I'm installing, I'm going to make damned sure that no Dell computer ever sees the light of ownership in this household ever again.

The job is also undergoing a reimaging. We are now simply known as The Church and a new Bible was issued. There wasn't much to it and the video from our Pope only proved one thing...he could have been a candidate for the Blue Man Group. Lots of propaganda has been issued but not much else has happened.

Recently, at The Church, a couple came in with questions about a possessed laptop screen. I told them that I was afraid the news was dire. It sounded like a hardware issue. The same hardware issue prior to my computer dying. Apparently, they went with a Dell too and, according to them, Dell's tech support services used to be nothing short of awesome but now, they've gone to hell.

eMachines can't handle my workload, Dell can't handle a simple request, and HP just kicked both off the top of the mountain...in only two days no less.

HP/Compaq...it's the only way to fly.

Episode 13: Console Crash

2009-07-24T00:11:00.002-05:00

You'd think that after the trials and tribulations I'd suffered recently, they'd be over. No rest for the wicked. It never ends.

I'd told Misty time and again that I'd have to eventually replace the eMachine that I used to fly through cyberspace. Unfortunately, I listened to her as she disagreed.

Once I'd landed in Night City, the problems with the machine escalated. The red kept going in and out on the display, leaving anything that displayed a red color to revert to a green tint or go completely black. Not good at all. Then the RAM went to shit and I had to replace it. Also...not...good. Today, prior to leaving the cube to stock up on supplies, the machine worked fine...sans the red color in the display, of course. When we returned to the cube, I turned it on in order to find the cheat code for the PSP game Infected for the one-dollar avatar.

It turned on but didn't do jack shit. I've been down this road before and it sucks. Console Death, they call it. It's what happens when the runner goes the distance. It just fails. Mechanical things...they fail. No Divine Intervention for my machine. It's just faded on and now...let me tell you...this is why Commandment Numero Uno is so important. Is it possible that this problem could be fixed? Maybe...but I think it would only prolong the inevitable. With Divine Intervention of Two Years at a full-service Purgatory Center, it could have been diagnosed, it's evil bytes purged by way of a technological exorcism and sent home, ready to rock and delivered from evil. This is not the case with it, however, and for it's services to me and you who used to tune in, I think it's done a damned fine job for the three years it ran through cyberspace.

Now, I'm running on the smaller of the two computers. The laptop which has served me well thus far and, of course, the iPhone has never let me down on the fly.

I've decided that eMachines will no longer suffice. Longevity issues are the problem. Now, I've switched to something better. I've opted for a Dell. This particular Dell was called the Dell Studio Desktop. It has half a terabyte of Hard Drive, Two Gigs of RAM, multiple expansion slots and pure, raw power...plus a free upgrade to Windows 7. I contacted Doc about that one. He NEVER gets excited about an operating system. This is the exception. Windows 7 has become what Windows XP and Windows Vista should have been.

I used to muse day in and day out about an Extreme Machine and it looks like I might have on on the lower end. Hopefully, I'll have enough space to slap those other two RAM sticks into it, pop my Sound Card in and my Secondary Hard Drive that contains my music. I'm going to upgrade to another half a terabyte later and then...it's on.

I'm currently sitting at a stop in cyberspace. I get around a bit but I'm waiting for that next ship to take me where I need to go. Not that this one won't do but I just don't like to overheat her. I'm still here and soon...I'll be on my way again.

The crash hasn't left me in completely dire straits but the lack of startup wasn't what I'd call fun.

Episode 12: You're Experiencing User Error

2009-07-17T22:27:00.002-05:00

I've reached a new conclusion. Some people have no business owning anything that requires current and voltage.

Okay, I understand that the digital conversion that has baffled people. I understand that.

The reason that The Bishop of The Church of The Cathode Ray TekShop ordained me is because I also possess the gift of prophecy. I saw the confused looks coming. I saw the heads being scratched. I saw the blank expressions.

A digital conversion box is simple. First, get one of those boxes if you haven't snagged one of those snazzy flat-screen TVs yet.

For those who won't get one of the newer TVs, I don't blame you for that. Why toss perfectly good machinery, right? Right! Okay, with that sort of knowledge in the bank, let's move on.

Okay, now that you have your converter box (which is about the size of a small DVD player) you might as well go ahead and snag an amplified HDTV antenna. You'll need that too. Why? Because the digital signal doesn't reach out as far as the analog signal. Yeah, they kinda left that crap out.

Okay, understand the brilliance involved here. The creators of those flat-screen TVs knew they were overpriced and they came out at the worst time. With an economy on life support and walking around with an iron lung breathing like Darth Vader, they knew that their clever inventions just weren't going to fly off the shelves. Next, the government mandates by law that all analog signals must be converted to digital signals. Okay, cool. Then they throw a website at us. If you have cable or digital cable, you don't need the box. If you don't have any of those, you need a box and an antenna. Well, you heard all about the benefits but the fine print tells you that this wasn't such a great idea, actually.

I can see where that creates a problem but what I cannot comprehend is why...FUCKING WHY must I deal with people who insist on not just bending or breaking but PULVERIZING every goddamned commandment set forth by The Church.

Let me explain. Each port is not only labelled but COLOR CODED to the point where you only have to match up the colors. Simple, right? Not to this parishioner.

She showed up earlier that day with the most blank expression I have ever seen on anyone. See, when I wasn't an initiate of the order, I had the freedom to walk away from a situation once I'd explained it in simplest terms. She explained that she got the conversion box and she just stopped recieving signals. Okay, but she didn't have an amplified antenna. I explained that this is one of the items she'd need and even explained how to hook it up. It's ONE CABLE!!!! ONLY ONE!!! Not that hard, folks. She. Did. Not. Get. It. She then explained that her remote control stopped working but couldn't remember if she had even replaced the batteries. She said that she'd return with the stuff so I could show her how to hook it all up.

Hey...great. If it's one thing I can do it's demonstrate. When explanations fail, demonstrations never do.

Personally, I had hoped that she'd wait until Monday or possibly waiting for one of my colleagues to show her what was happening. I was having a frustrating day. People were turning away the Divine Intervention Services we offer. I did NOT want to look at the data feedback because I knew it would only serve to further my frustration. I needed to think that I was converting souls to pass easily into the Heavenly gates of Cyberspace. I knew I wasn't but I needed to believe I was in order to stay motivated. Each of us has an area of specialty. Mine is computers, another has computers and home entertainment. The initiate with whom I worked specializes in home entertainment and our High Priest specializes in everything but computers. I would have hoped she would have consulted with our home entertainment guy.

She didn't...she made a beeline for me. It was everything I could do to keep from breaking out in a cold sweat.

Oh Lord of The Engines...Why Hast Thou Forsaken Me?

I picked up the box containing the Digital Conversion Box...it was still taped. This is when it occurred to me that this person has the I.Q. of a fucking bag full of hammerheads. My apologies to any quality Craftsman Hammer Heads that may have been offended by that comment. She had never made the attempt at hooking up this box to the TV.

People, if some box had a mystical ability to aid in your signal getting to your TV so you could watch it, I might be inclined to believe that. Electricity is pretty mystifying but you have to FUCKING WIRE IT DIRECTLY INTO YOUR TV FIRST!!!! Just because you buy boxing gloves doesn't mean you're Rocky Goddamn Balboa. Just because you bought a gun doesn't mean you're the Terminator. Just because you bought a copy of Back To The Future doesn't mean you're going to own a time-travelling fucking DeLorean. Starting to see where I'm going with this. It was suddenly made very apparent to me that this person only thought buying the box would guarantee that she wouldn't lose her signal. Obviously, they forgot to tell her that she had to hook it up to her TV first.

I hooked the antenna directly into the box and then showed her what hooked into the TV. It's ONE CABLE!!!! One Fucking Cable!!! It's not neurosurgery. No one's asking her to slap a 2 terabyte wetwire implant into my fucking cerebellum. It's just one cable, it plugs into the TV's cable port, you plug the electrical cord into the wall along with the same cord from the antenna and there you go...you should have signal. Simple, effective.

She asked me if the box need batteries. Okay, it has an electrical cord and it doesn't unplug from the box. Why in the blue ringed fuck would it need batteries?! Sweet Christ it never ends.

It's shit like this that makes me want to scream the word "Fuck" at random.

It gets better...wait until you hear this shit.

She's also brought the remote and still can't remember if she's replaced the batteries. Now, I understand that batteries are easily replaceable but when in doubt, if it doesn't work, just change the batteries again. If it doesn't work after that...it's not the batteries.

I ended up explaining that I could replace the batteries but there was no way for me to test the remote here. TVs at home, remote is here...guess what's NOT happening? Okay! Now that we understand... She gets a new universal remote...a cheap one. I could have sold her one of the expensive remotes and explained a bad experience with the cheap one but I felt merciful. Poor fool was already walking through this universe with no knowledge of anything electronic. I was amazed that she had acquired and had maintained a license to fucking drive for this many years.

I am a little too ethical even for my own good.

Keep in mind, the whole time this is going on, she will not shut the fuck up. I'm halfway through answering the previous question and I'm being bombarded with another one. Look, if you don't have the time for me to answer your question, enter a damn chat room. The fact that I made it halfway through the first question was progress. That progress was pretty short-lived.

Now, I managed to solve every problem she brought to the best of my ability until she laid the last bomb on me...she had a battery-operated Christmas ornament and the batteries needed replacing but she didn't know how to get the batteries out but she was pretty sure that battery acid was leaking out.

Oh...Why Not?! What the hell!

I opened that damned thing after conquering the three-bag obstacle course she put me through and then, I took those batteries out, wrapped them in plastic and tossed them. The truth was, this damned thing needed a cleaning and an all-night drying.

Okay, now, I sold her the amplified antenna without the Divine Intervention Service, the remote, also without service and the batteries.

Finally, she was gone and Misty bore witness to this whole event.

The way I figured it, the war was over and I had just endured Hell. I no longer fear Hell anymore. I have already looked into it's abyss and now, nothing ...not even death scares me.

So, we're at the point where we're wrapping up for the night. I'm counting the last drawer and what happens, phone rings. Normally, we'd ignore it but my colleague, the Home Entertainment Initiate answered it. He put it on speaker and I heard the voice and panic gripped my poor, bedraggled mind. It was her.

She wanted to know if the box needed time to warm up.

Now, I really wanted to randomly scream the word "Fuck" and start telling the woman to return all the items and go live with the fucking Amish where she'd never have to worry about any electronic devices ever again.

I thought better of it and figured maybe I should go live with the Amish and seek asylum.

Our High Priest is rolling his eyes, our H.I. Priest is explaining that I'm not there and that there was really only so much that could be done and instructed her to stop in tomorrow. Hopefully, she does so before I have to be in...because quite frankly, I'm not dealing with it. I refuse. I will do anything for anyone but I WILL FUCKING NOT deal with this situation any longer.

Perhaps if I perform self-flagellation with a handful of speakerwire, The Lord of The Engines will have mercy upon me.

Then again, string me up and just lash the crap out of me. I'll hand you all a roll of thin as shit speaker wire and give you one full hour to just take your best shots.

Anything but another descent into TekHell...

BACK TO CYBERHELL DEMON!!!!!!!

User Error has never been so frustrating.

Episode 11: You're Experiencing Mechanical Destruction

2009-07-14T21:59:00.003-05:00

Okay, I have a few things about which I feel the need to vent. Maybe one of you can make heads or tails of my predicaments or maybe you can't. If it doesn't interest you, cool, ignore it.

The Church of The Cathode Ray Tek Shop is where I work for a reason. There are things I know and some I don't. Chances are, if I don't use it often, I'll know as much about it as what you read on the web. Seeing as how we have God and technology sort of ass-backwards, I'm going to break it down to you in commandments.

1. Thou shalt opt for Divine Intervention plans.

This is the first and most important commandment of them all. Why? Because the rest of you teknoweenies don't know shit. If you're about opening the casing and fucking with the inner works, that's fine and I have no problem with that. You will, however, void the warranty and if you fixed your relative's laptop two weeks ago because it got fried in a power surge, wonderful. Guess what? I'm not fucking impressed.

2. Thou shalt not get irate with thy TekPriests:

Remember, we are the initiated. You come to us with questions, we may or may not give you the answer. We hold the power, you do not. If you don't have the time it takes to let us help you settle your tek issue, I don't want to fucking hear it. Stop by when you do have the time and don't get shitty with me and ask me "Do you actually work here?" The Lord of The Engines fucking HATES that and thou shalt suffer dearly for that. See, it's simple. If you're shitty to us, we have no reason to help you. Your money won't be worth shit. If you're patient with us and nice to us, we still won't go the extra mile. We'll go seven...for you...because you're cool with us.

3. Thou shalt not describe problems in vague terms:

Look, simply put. I don't know what the fuck you're on about when you want that wire that plugs into that thing at the back of that doo-hickey. If you don't think that you will be able to remember what the fuck you're coming in for, write it down.

4. Thou shalt pay attention:

This is amplification to the vague terms. If you didn't pay attention to what your cable guy said, don't expect me to know what the hell your problem is. He was there, I wasn't.

5. If thou hast found an item cheaper elsewhere, thou shalt politely excuse thyself and buy it there:

This is another bit of bullshit I have to deal with. I know that those high-speed HDMI cables are expensive and, if I could, I would just give you the one that came with my camera since I don't need it but I don't have it with me, you've been shitty with me and guess what? that HDMI cable that you're bitching about is only going to be the start of your issues. Got that, broheem?

High Def TV stuff was going to be expensive from the start and if you thought any of it was going to be cheap, thou art deserving of much laughter and ridicule. I don't give a shit about how much it is elsewhere, I don't work there and guess what, you have a choice to make. Sucks, don't it?

6. Thou shalt communicate with others when in doubt:

If you carry a cellphone but are confused about an issue from home, do yourself and me a favor...call the fuck home! If your significant other referred you to us and sent you to get something that you didn't write down, just call. It's the simplest solution to your problem and it helps me to help you. If you don't want to do that, fine, refer to the clarification on Commandment #3.

7. The number of days for a return shall be 30:

Wake up call, people, we give you thirty days for a reason. Past that, what we can do for you dwindles. If you really want to know what our return policy is, check out those reciepts. Yeah, that big fucking scroll we print up for you tells you everything. If what you bought didn't work within thirty days, bring it back and let us replace it or refund your money. Past that...well, I hope you followed Commandment Numero Uno or you can consider yourself in TekHell for comission of a mortal sin.

8. Thou shalt not be shocked at battery prices:

I shall explain. Cellphones and cordless phones have batteries that are fucking expensive. On the lower end, batteries for cordless phones run about $14 but can approach $30 on the high end. Cellphones have batteries that run as low as $35 but can reach up into the $60 range. Those little button cell watch batteries? Yeah, they can get a little on the pricey side because they run about $5 a shot. It's not quantum physics, people. Don't get yourself into a quandary. It's a power source and it will run out eventually. If you can't handle it, don't buy the device. I didn't price those so don't violate Commandment #2. Wanna know how to get batteries for free for a year or so? See Commandment #1.

9. Thou shalt not struggle with merchandise:

Okay, this is one that has us as TekPriests laughing at YOU. You see those big, beige hooks upon which certain electronic items hang? Yes, well, tug all you like...they're not comin off. I, however, hold your key to passage. I can remove it from said hook for you. Tug once, I shall forgive. Tug more than that and I reserve the right to think that you're the dumbest motherfucker to walk the planet.

10. Thou shalt observe hours of operation:

It doesn't matter if you see the TekPriests milling around inside. Let's observe some elements here. One may be counting the registers, another is cleaning a counter or a display. Hey, the lights...not all of them are on. Now, do thyself a favor and scan your watch. Does that time read the same or even later than what's on the sign? Through logical deduction, that would mean we're CLOSED! Tugging at the door once is forgiven. Not everyone can be observant that first time but the second and third makes me wonder how Natural Selection missed you.

Okay, now, onward to other things. The suspension on my truck was fixed and I thought that would be the end of my mechanical troubles but it wasn't. Keep in mind that work alone cost over $3K. Now, I faced a new problem. My primary flash drive began corrupting data left and right. I managed to save some of my pictures but I lost everything else...all my mailing addresses, letter templates, promotional info, etc, etc. Ready to know why? Well, it seems, I did a stupid thing. I kept the flash drive plugged in as I worked on the files...and kept doing that for over a year. Eventually, the circutboard warped and the data became corrupt. I was lucky to have saved what few pictures I did.

Now, let's go back to The First Commandment. Had I purchased this small device prior to my initiation/ordination along with the Divine Protection Plan, I could have it replaced. Problem was that I snagged it at a WalMart in Louisiana. I'm out my data and my hardware. I'm sure I have some of my stuff backed up somewhere but I'll have to search through my discs. If I do have it backed up, I'll have saved my writings. If not, I'm screwed.

New TekRule (Subcommandment #1:) Flash Drive - Plug In, Pull File, Pull Out...when finished...Plug In, Sync Up, Pull Out. Never Leave It Plugged In! Always Back Up Files!

I could have died when my data was lost. When it happened, I'm not sure. All I remember is thinking, "Why, oh why didn't I back that drive up a long time ago?"

Let's go with a quick breakdown. Lexar's Firefly drive was the one that failed on me. I have two of them. I'm not storing anything of importance to the second. According to some with whom I've spoken, Lexars have a history of failure. This is the only one with which I've had a problem, personally, but let's just say that my trust isn't exactly there. SanDisk makes a good flash drive (The Cruzer) and holds up pretty well under the stress but if you're planning on using it a lot, obey Commandment #1 for each of the flash drives you buy under that brand...you're going to need it. Kingston, I've heard, are the top of the line. The really shitty part is that I had actually picked up two Kingston DataTravellers at WalMart at only $5 a pop and thought they were inferior due to the price. Boy, was I wrong. Because of that, I've used them as standbys and not anything more. I just never used them much. Since I've already had one of the Lexars fail on me, I figured, why not replace it? Why settle for second rate when I could have the baddest of the bunch?

I went on to surf cyberspace in search of Kingstons as a means of data storage. I hit paydirt. A pack of four barely cost me $40 and they were in the range of 4GB per drive. I was in elation. The next day, I'd spoken with two other initiates and the High Priest about the issue concerning my troubles with storage mediums. I bought ten double sided miniature DVDs and split them with Misty. She hasn't had any trouble out of the flash drives I've given her but I'm not taking any chances. I offered to split the new drives with her but she only wanted one out of the four.

At least I settled that issue. So, let's break this down. RAM went to hell in my desktop, Suspension was fucked on my truck, the flash drive...Sometimes, they do come in threes.

Fours...forgot the PSP issue. Shit.

Now, final point to make...the economy. I understand that times are tough on everyone. I understand that there's not really much money to go 'round for people these days. That's sort of a given. There really are many ways out and I've advocated even some of the more insane methods but let's get one thing very straight. If you like your local Church TekShop staying open, we want to help you keep it open but you have to remember we need your help to do it.

When we make offers and you turn them down, we understand but you have to also understand something...when four locations in your area have failed to stay open past a certain length of time, it's not on us. It's not because we didn't work our asses off. We might have annoyed and even enraged you with our sermons on various devices but none of those are the reason the Church packed up shop. Church locations pack up and consolidate and you have to drive a little more out of your way because you didn't want to hear about anything we had to offer. Sure, I won't lie, The Council of The Lord of The Engines does need your money...and so do we. Yes, the offers we set forth are how we make that money but it is also how your local Church TekShop stays open.

The equation is simple when a shop closes down, another one opens and then the process repeats, it should be pretty obvious what's happening.

The best definition of the word Insanity is the repetition of the same actions and expecting different results.

Episode 10: Obsolescence

2009-07-10T22:22:00.002-05:00

You've seen them on TV during movies like Interview With The Vampire or Law And Order. The accused sits at some table in the "interview" room. The two detectives walk in and what happens? They always press two buttons.

It sits there on the table like the elephant in the room that no one wants to talk about...ever.

It sits there with a big window...and an even bigger speaker. What you see in the window are two small sprockets turning. One dark area shrinks as one grows. It's big enough to fit into a briefcase but not small enough to fit into a pocket.

If you have the image of a full-sized desktop tape recorder, you'd have it right. In The Church's hallowed halls today, one of those was launched.

Understand, I can take launching digital voice recorders that are slightly expensive. I can take launching microcassette recorders next to them or even the Walkman-style full-size cassette recorders but when faced with these relics, I simply could not believe that these things were still being mass produced.

I looked at them in wonder. I wondered who actually still used these things as limited as the storage capacity is. A digital voice recorder can take nearly hundreds of hours of recording seamlessly where you'd have to have a mountain of tape in order to accomplish the same end. A digital recorder will also allow you to index for later translation to CD which has a longer shelf life. They're also small enough to be fit into a pocket without much of a footprint.

I suppose that there are those who would prefer to go a little old school.

Me, I'm off to continue my world tour. Dead Man Walking just got their own jet to live their debauched little hearts in luxury.

Episode 9: Rock All Over Ya

2009-07-08T22:28:00.002-05:00

New problem with the truck, it will cost me a little more but the destruction caused actually saved my ass. It was only by the grace of God that I got here and the Angel sitting where all my shit was piled into my passenger seat kept me on the road and out of a hospital or the grave...which is definitely where I would have ended up.

"I kept wondering how the hell that wheel stayed on," Al said, "Then John pulled your right side apart and there it was...the whole spindle had mushroomed to keep the bearing on."

Again, I felt the blood leave my brain and my heart drop into my ass. To think that the whole goddamned thing could come apart was too much to bear. I needed to sit down. Imagine, if you will, flying down the road with Van Halen playing and then CLANK, SCRAPE BOOMBOOMBOOMBOOMBOOOMBOOOM! FUCK YOU and it all goes away. Me, in the middle of fucking nowhere and busted up, bleeding, nowhere to turn, no one on which to call for for help. I'd have never made it. Night City would have been without my ass. The destruction of my spindle saved my life.

As I talked with my mechanic, I put forth my "crazy" idea to complete an A.I. Project for the truck, what unsettled me most was that he didn't write me off, he didn't call me or the idea crazy, he actually had a way that it could physically be done and proposed that I go for the five million dollar purse that our government offers to complete an off-road navigation challenge. That sounds vaguely like the DARPA (Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency) Off-Road Challenge that I'd heard so much about. If Pearl goes the way I hope that she does, I'll definitely go for it. Five million and alls I gotta do is drive. Fuck, just give me that chance.

Pearl should be done by Friday. I can't wait to see how she handles once the suspension/shock work is done.

Now, on to the gaming front. The new PSP's really kicking ass. Now all I need is that damn Skype headset and I'll be able to make calls from it. Now, check this out. Let's take a little trip into another world...

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Boston, Massachusetts

Dead Man Walking took the stage. Steven 5 sported his new fauxhawk and strapped on his new Jackson Bass. Rikki Roxxorz had ditched the Nikki Sixx hair in favor of leaving it hanging in it's natural waves and took his seat behind the drums wearing skellies that made him look more like a member of the Misfits. Jon Black took his mic from the micstand and stood there, ready for the music to start and Angela Lockwood had lightly strummed a chord from her Jackson King V.

Then, it started. Steven 5 opened with the bass solo to Bon Jovi's Livin' On A Prayer as Rikki lightly tapped a beat. Angela opened up with her guitar riff as Rikki jumped into a beat that pounded of raw power that was to come and then Jonathan started to sing in none other than Jon Bon Jovi's voice.

(Look everyone, it's Rock Band, the game. You can create the band but the problem is you can't control their sound. Jon's even had the voice of Michael Jackson as a child singing with The Jackson Five. It's a New Jersey Thing, fuggedaboudit)

Each time the song built up, Dead Man Walking's flawless playing kicked the whole song into overdrive. The fans cheered and the heat was turned up. Each throbbing bassline was pronounced, each of Rikki's punishing beat blasted and each of Angela's chords became blistering. Then, as it's crescendo was reached, the band kicked it into overdrive again, their energy undying.

"Oooooooh we gotta hold on," Jon sang as the final buildup came after Angela's perfect solo, "Ready or not...you live for the fight when that's all that you've got!"

Then, the overdrive kicked in with explosive fury and Jon howled into the mic as though the music wasn't loud enough to hear of Tommy and Gina's plight. He wanted the pain to be felt and sympathized with. He wanted everyone to know the story of two people living in tough times. He wanted all of us to know...that we weren't alone.

Whooooooooooooooooa, we're halfway there
WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOA-OH LIIIIVIN' ON A PRAYER,
TAKE MY HAND AND WE'LL MAKE I SWEAR,
WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOA-OH LIIIIIVIN' ON A PRAYER

WHOOOOOOOOOOOOA WE'RE...

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Right there, in Dead Man Walking's most perfect moment...the FUCKING BATTERY ON THE PSP DIED!

I wanted to howl and shake my fist at the gods for doing this to me. HOW FUCKING DARE YOU! A great rock anthem like that that remains poignant to this day and you couldn't wait until it was finished and the autosave kicked in! YOU BASTARDS!

I couldn't believe it. I have never done this well and the fucking battery had to go right there at the high point of the song. If my percentages get fucked, I'm gonna hit GameStop to snag a Pandora battery pack for this bad boy. It's disgraceful and sick to die in the middle of a song like that. Fuckin' emo battery.

In other gaming news, I got back one of my most beloved games...Wipeout: Pure. This game is the best racing game on the market. If you have a gaming system and you remotely like racing games, get this one, fly right and you'll end up in some type of cybernetic ecstacy. Then, I went a little old school and snagged a copy of Midway Arcade Treasures. This disc has about 20 older Midway Arcade games including Paperboy, Rampart, Rampage, Xenophobe, and Mortal Kombat 1, 2 and 3.

Imagine that, me in arcade Nirvana. Not bad if I do say so myself. Although I did find out how rusty I am at Mortal Kombat today...as ashamed as I am to admit that, I did better at Spy Hunter than I did Mortal Kombat.

Anyway, I'm outta here. Once my battery is recharged I'm going to see if I can't finish out the set and get my Merch Girl hired. I got a band that needs money to tour.

Episode 8: Another Pothole In The Road...

2009-07-08T00:32:00.002-05:00

I never have a complaint when it comes to transportation. I've taken it all. Cars that have no shocks, buses, planes, motorcycles...name a mode of transportation other than a pocket rocket and I've probably been on it. Space has been limited on some, on others, too much space but the one thing that I've never done is complain about it. Talked about it, sure, but never complained.

Pearl's been a great truck since I got her. She's been nothing less than a little powerhouse. The only problem that I've ever had with her is that some parts needed to be replaced from time to time. She was low-maintenance and when it came to Nissan Hardbody pickups, she followed the Indestructible model set forth for them all. I feel extremely blessed to have had her in my life. She's hauled stuff for me and even got me here where I never thought I'd go and, all the while, her speakers resonated with songs that were very near and dear to me.

I saw potential in her that I'd never seen in any vehicle I'd ever driven or owned. Pearl was going to sport an onboard A.I. at some point with a killer display of Kathy Ireland on a pop-up monitor to tell me in a very sweet voice when something needed repair or even give me that warm smile when I told her to just get me home and set the thing to autopilot.

Today dashed those hopes...temporarily. See, I'd scheduled an oil change and engine service for her at the local autoshop. I'd been a little worried about the suspension since the move. She worked harder than a hundred pack mules out of Mexico to get me here and I hadn't had the chance to properly give her the royal treatment as I'd been meaning to. For fact's sake, our relationship had been strained. I hadn't driven her except where I absolutely needed her and I secretly felt as though I'd neglected her, so I told Al The Mechanic to go ahead, check the shocks and suspension and see what, if anything was wrong.

We got the call this morning. I'd dropped her off the night before and left the key and hotfooted it home. I thought for certain that nothing could be that wrong until I got the call. The brakes were okay. The service had gone without a hitch but the shocks were damp, the CV boots were shredded, the wheel bearings needed replacing and packing and the suspension had so much play that there was no possible way that it would have passed inspection without repairing it first.

Ouch.

What made it worse...it would cost over Three Grand to fix it.

I wanted to cry. I'd put her through hell and now, she was paying the price. She was a rolling roadhazard and I didn't even know it. I thought that maybe that heavy load of my decimated possessions had caused this but the pressure from the load had actually helped keep it all in check. I felt like the lowest form of life on the planet for having done all this running with her.

So now, she's in the shop, still sitting there in the lot with her elegant and tough posture but I know that underneath it all, she's hurting and it kills me to see her in that state. At present, I have no clue as to how she'll handle the work. I'm hoping that, when it's over, she'll roll along like a brand-new truck off the lot. I won't really set my goals that high but I know she needs it.

I can already hear the cries of "Just Get A New Truck!" as I write this but understand, after all this truck has done for me, there's no way I can do that. It just wouldn't be right. I bought and paid for this truck when I left Louisiana. It's the first vehicle that I've owned that didn't just cut and run on me when the going got tough. She toughed it out for me and to bail on her now would be the worst thing I could do. It's not even an option.

Think back to your first car. It was in your name. You kept it up. You got into that thing and headed out on the open road to Destination: Anywhere and it didn't matter where you went or what you did, you just did it. When push came to shove, that vehicle was there and when it finally went, you felt like a part of you died with it. It wasn't just losing a car or a truck...that was the loss of a family member. So you did what you dreaded doing...you got a new one. It took some getting used to but you did and then, you formed yet another relationship but you'll never forget that first, will you? It's just not the same. It never will be. There will always be that void deep down inside and no matter how new of a model you get, it's just not the car with which you'd started.

Speaking of Mechanical Things, my PSP developed some spots on the screen recently that I can't get rid of. I ended up shelling out for a new one...the slimmer model that came with the game Rock Band and the movie School of Rock. Let me tell you something about Rock Band. I suck at Guitar Hero but you Guitar Hero Yayhoos have it friggin' easy as hell. You only need to be one member of the band. Me? I have to be all four, so the next time you start blabbin about your damn scores at me, expect me to pull some ballcrushing bragging. You have one position, I have all positions and until you can top that, screw your fake Les Paul. It didn't impress me then and it doesn't impress me now. I also actually play a real guitar so get some motivation and we'll speak about it then, kthnxbye.

Episode 7: One Night At The Atlantic

2009-06-25T20:57:00.002-05:00

Welcome to the Atlantic Ocean. This is where part of the lost continent of Lemuria was submerged. What you see behind me is the final resting place of Atlantis, hence, the name of this particular bathtub behind me. The sky wasn't pretty that day, but that still didn't stop me from enjoying it.

Would you believe that there was some loony fuck actually FISHING off of that jetty? I'm not kidding. He'd asked me not to photograph him so I had to crop him out in the viewfinder of the camera.

Keep in mind, we're both wearing hoodies and shorts. Most would think that there was something wrong with that picture but, then again, try telling all the other loony people there that...for some reason, it's the style. We had a blast even with the wind coming off of the ocean. No pun intended

Night falling on the beach...the whole damn boardwalk just lit the hell up and it was beautiful.

Keep in mind, I'm used to concrete jungle and urban Sprawl...I have never walked in sand and my apologies to Johnny Depp for laughing about the way he walked in Pirates of The Caribbean

I could only walk so far and then I ditched my surf shoes, and dropped the camera equipment and my ass on the sand. My eyes are squinting from the wind blasting the hell out of me.

I thought this was one of the best pics I've ever taken. Period.

These pictures were actually not taken by me. Some boardwalk hand actually just hit the button twice and we didn't have anyone posing with us so we figured...what the hell?

My new camcorder's battery died on the beach in mid film. On top of that, there's still a helluva latency issue between the synchronization of the sound and video. Right now, I'm still shooting some shit and I'll end up editing it all down on the laptop for a big video later.

Episode 6: Indestructible 2.0 (Inside The Fire Again)

2009-06-07T14:27:00.005-05:00

The source of my suffering has changed. Don't get me wrong, the new job has been pretty awesome...with one exception...my feet.

See, it started out like anything else. I'd report for work, do my job and the dress shoes I have to wear would eventually cause the soles of my feet to ache. I always thought my feet had lost their conditioning from when I worked in Louisiana. I'd stand on my feet and walk for up to 12 hours per shift but, now, things were different. After only eight hours here and there, though...the pain in my feet simply intensified.

I'd wondered why this was happening to me. I'd pondered possible medical reasons but put them out of my head just as quickly. I figured that it was just like the Nike ads promised...it's gotta be the shoes.

I tried padded insoles and they only smashed my feet and made the pain so intolerable that I literally took them off during work several times when no one was looking. I ended up taking the inserts out and wearing my shoes a little loosely. That helped but only to a degree. Finally, I bit the bullet...I was just going to have to get new shoes. I grabbed some Dr. Scholl's shoes at WalMart and put the padded insoles into them. It worked like a charm. They're still not as comfy as the SWAT Team style boots that I love but they're much better than hard soles on a hard floor.

Sales have been going pretty well. I'm getting the hang of this retail thing. I'll be honest, I haven't done this kinda junk in over ten years and all I'd ever sold was tires way back as a greasemonkey but now, the whole game has changed. Right now, I've got my eye on a fire-engine red video camera for YouTube/Google Video projects but money won't permit. I've also got my eye on a nice laptop for Misty. I'm sure she'll love it. She's played with her mom's laptop so much, she might as well be the one to own it. Her own mom won't even play with it because she doesn't really understand computers. Things at home have been a little strained because I've been at work so much. That's to be expected, I suppose. I mean, it's not like I'm at home all the time in the cube anymore.

For those of you wondering about the show...well, I'm a little curious about that myself. My schedule still isn't as regular enough to even do a show and I'm still learning about podcasting through iTunes. To be honest, I barely have the time to do this blog much less anything else. What little extra time I have is spent trying to keep up with things around the cube.

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Date: May 16, 2009

Day before yesterday, I called back to Louisiana to check in with the family. Naturally, it was small talk as usual until Mom asked me if I remembered my old friend, Faith.

Let me introduce you to Faith. She was a young woman, short in stature but with hair that was just "a little too red" by the standards of some. She had the broadest smile that would turn adamantium into butter in an oven and would stop tanks in their tracks. That smile would win me over every time. She also had a heart of platinum.

Why do I say that? Well there was that nasty business back in high school that spread all over the town like the fires of Hell with demons running in gasoline underwear. She'd been one of the popular kids in school and had been given "fair warning" about me and how dark I could be. Not that she gave a shit. When she wanted to meet and know someone...that's what she did. She wasn't the type to take everything everyone told her as gospel. That's how I met her.

At great risk to her own reputation and even the ruin of some friendships, her and I became close friends.

During my senior year, we both had creative writing class together and I was having a helluva time. I was a heavy comic collector at the time and Curse of The Spawn was among my favorites but that fourth issue was elusive and I had to get my hands on a copy before the month was out. During Christmas that year, I was at wits' end trying to find this issue when she presented me with a gift; that ever-elusive fourth issue. Needless to say, such a contribution to my collection was one that forever sealed that friendship. Well, if her defense of me to her social circle wasn't enough to cement it, this would definitely be the drying agent and the other part to the binary epoxy that not even the hottest solar flare would melt.

Our friendship never progressed into a relationship though some swore that it had. We lost touch when she'd moved. Last I'd heard of her, she'd gotten married and had two little girls. He must be one helluva guy and he's damned lucky. That's what I always thought. The friendships she made were lasting and nearly unbreakable...unless you did something to fuck it around.

Back to the call. When I got the news, I stood there in a state of shock. Seems things have a way of coming back to bite you in the ass.

My last walk in Louisiana brought me past the house in which she'd lived as a teenager and I'd thought about possibly tracking her down and catching up with her but I told myself that I didn't have time. I still had to pack. I couldn't stop even for a minute. How fucked is that? Someone who put her entire reputation on the line for something like a friendship with me and I couldn't spare a fucking minute or two?

That came back to me. She was dead. Gone. One of my best friends in the world was gone forever and I didn't have the time.

It was then that I caught myself thinking the one thought that was most disturbing to me. All those people who couldn't take two fuckin minutes to listen to her...all those who said all those evil things about me and then tried to pin some guilt by association on her...why couldn't it have been one of those sick evil fucks?

Normally, I'd think that perhaps it should have been me after all the self-infliction but no, it had to be her. Needless to say I was in a fury once the shock had subsided.

It was breast cancer that claimed her. It had spread to other parts of her body and had killed her. Normally, I wouldn't wish this disease on my worst enemy but here I was wishing that it had been any one of those worthless wastes of life instead of her. I don't care if they'd changed, it would serve them right. I hated them all but mostly, I missed my friend. Had it not been for her, I'm not really sure how I would have handled some of those situations I found myself in.

I could write an entire diatribe about how all of them deserved what she got and didn't deserve. I could do that but I won't. Even though I'd like to see them all suffer and cold shoulder every plea for forgiveness that they issue forth, I don't think that now is the time or place for it. My only hope is that they count themselves as I do. I count myself lucky that I knew her. I count myself lucky that she chose to do what few did. I hope that they all carry on her courage and her kind nature

It occurs to me that the gears on this post did dramatically shift gears but, I suppose that's how it is when a post is not finished and you have to come back with the worst news ever.

Faith, I'm sorry that I didn't at least try to catch up with you. Just know that you'll always be someone I held near and dear to me and that I'll miss you. Just understand that my anger is partially because I hate what others did to you because of me and partially because I hate myself for not doing the right thing when I had the chance.

Episode 5: Freelance Teknosapien No More

2009-05-22T15:42:00.006-05:00

About goddamned time someone hired me. Got a call a few days ago while trying to figure out what was wrong with Lillian's engine. Misty's niece comes across as a bubblehead but she's anything but that. She just doesn't know jack about engines. Me...I know a little and I guess that's enough. To have a little expertise in an area is enough.

I'd interviewed for Church of The Cathode Ray Tek Shop (no, I'm not telling you motherfuckers where I actually work...only the privileged few get that info) after getting a phone call from one of their reps. Finally, working within the realm of technology. Something I'll actually fucking enjoy for a change. Base pay is crap but the commissions will supplement that. I'm sure I'll actually make it. So anyway, I'm at the hospital, listening to the Escape from L.A. score...fitting, isn't it? That's when they call. I was pissed. Some idiot just interrupted my Snake Plissken groove...it had better be good. I was already frustrated as it was. Found out it was CoTCRTS and all was immediately forgiven.

After the phone call, I was still frustrated. Mainly because of an ongoing battle between iTunes and my damn bank that had been raging for weeks. You guys know that I'm only restricted to downloading freebie apps now? Yeah. Well, I'll get back to that because it's still going on.

Anyway, I dressed to the nines (basically made myself look like a hitman Tony Soprano would hire) and headed there for the interview. No problems at all. It went exceedingly well. Red ties really do work well, don't they? Something about black and red colors screams "HIRE THIS DUDE!!!"

It was while I was working on Lillian's engine trouble that I spotted it. I'd remembered it from my grease monkey days...a 2.7 Liter V6 engine produced in 2000....there were two models. One model took 6 quarts of oil...the other took four and a half. This was the four and a half model and it looked to have more than the required amount of oil from the dipstick's indications. Fuckola, the mechanics to whom she'd taken it were looking to blow up her engine!

"Don't...fucking...drive...this...thing," I told her, "Not unless you want your engine blowing itself to Kingdom Come and beyond."

I got the phone call shortly after I finished with the engine. Time to onboard with The Church of The Cathode Ray...I'm as good as hired. We took care of all of that today. Now...time to get crackin' on the work and sell, sell, sell. That's right, I'm pushing all of you into my world...the brightly-lit and glamorous world of cyberspace where you can get anything, be anyone, say whatever and break down the walls. I'll show you our final bastion of free society left in the world. I'm the bad seed, your designated driver of the datastream, your teknotourguide of this electronic landscape. It's comin' at ya...blazing like a Sirocco, blazing across the land into your town, into your home, slamming into your radio like a super charged nano particle of dark energy, messing with your mind. It's a landscape of blasphemies and truths with cultures both malignant and benign, full of sound and fury but all...signifying something. Where do you want to go? Our journey is long and better than any drug you've ever tried. If you think I'm joking, I can clearly show you examples that I'm not.

Now...let's talk Apple. Everytime I've ever needed to change contact or payment info, there's never been a problem. Now, it seems like since I got this new card from my bank...nothing's worked right. Apple says it's my bank, my bank says it's Apple and the story only snowballs every time I have had to tell it. A wonderful representative of Apple named James and his console cowboy partner Enrique did everything they could to help me, including getting me to an internal investigator. Let's hope that pans out. I need that Magic: The Gathering Deck Builder.

Oh, yeah...sorcery. Magic...I'm playing that again. I'd lost every game I'd played until the other night, my rough Pandora Deck actually "decked" Darrin. Getting Decked means that you have no cards left to draw and you lose by default. Nevermind that he played the Wrath of God card twice which destroys all creatures on the board and another card that kills lands. Those four good punches just weren't enough to keep me on the ropes or down. I may be tournament material soon.

It was a lot like watching Rocky. He kept getting his ass kicked but he refused to stay down. It wasn't even tournament time and I was playing like it was. It had to have been frustrating. In this instance, I was the manifestation of evil that just toyed with him until he was too exhausted and had nothing left to give. In the words of Daniel Day Lewis from the film "Gangs of New York", "Good Morning, Priest." He threw the Kitchen sink at me and it didn't stop me from unleashing my hellish hordes on him. In the end, it was only one of my many good soldiers that did him in. It just wouldn't leave him alone.

He has vowed revenge. He will have his opportunity. Only this time, I won't be as forgiving.

One more thing before I'm out...Terminator Salvation and Angels & Demons are definitely worthwhile movies to see.

Episode 4: Door To The Face or Insult To Injury

2009-05-07T21:11:00.002-05:00

Have you ever watched all those comedies where it's just one guy and door after door after door gets slammed in his face? Yeah, well that's me.

I got a letter from Disc Makers. If you read between the lines, as I did again, they had a quota to fill. This comes after I found out that my hopes of going back to school online would cost me a cool ten grand six months after I graduate...with interest. I also don't qualify for grants because I don't have a dependent...fucking wonderful. I suppose that should be no surprise. Far be it from me to do the responsible thing by rolling up the sleeves and working my ass off all these years.

I could bitch about how unfair it is, but fuck 'em. I'll study the shit on my own and just consult others who know more about this shit than I do. Later on, I'll blow through those classes out of boredom and then tank anyone else in the business. I've gotta do something.

Today was another day in shit traffic. I drove like a NASCAR racer on a meth bender into Philly just to get Pop zapped again. This time, I met his doctor. Pop made the introduction of me as "my future son-in-law" with a smile on his face. Remembering that at least gave me the boost. After I was let down by the idea of going back into debt just to become educated about what I love most, I fell into a pit of depression. Coming back to this rejection letter was further irritation. These assholes made me get up at the asscrack of fucking dawn only to not be honest with me. I hate that goddamn two-way mirror shit. Look, if I can't see through it, take that shit down and put a damn wall up. Pretty simple.

Stacking the deck only further serves to irritate me.

It's not that I can't make it five months or more without working but I don't want that. I want to wake up, get out, go to work and come home. I want the decent pay and the ability to not have to worry. Sure, I despised my old job with a nuclear capability but, the truth is, I liked the structure and halfway knowing what to expect. I didn't like what I did but at least I was good at it.

Sometimes I look back and wonder how the hell this ended up happening to me. I know what happened. I dropped out twice. Something told me the whole idea was bad a long time ago but hell, if I'd known this was going to happen, it would have been a much different story.

Part of me wants to say, "Fuck it" but the other part of me is so pissed off that I wanna kick down those doors and tell them, "Guess what...I'm hired...like it or not."

I also kinda thought the double existence thing would end too but it hasn't...it's only gotten worse. Having to stash my second identity even further into the web hole isn't helping because employers these days are making more and more use of the internet and what you're doing on your own time against you. Fuck's sake, nothing is safe anymore.

This led me to doing what I do best once I was done. I was finished and I lapsed into my bored personality...where I just start talking shit as calmly as humanly possible.

There was only one cure for what ailed me. I fired up the PSP and began randomly killing people in GTA: Vice City Stories. I went on a wanton destruction binge simply because I could.

In other news, Squatter's out. This morning I heard the handyman and a representative of the local Sheriff's Department knocking at the door of Cube 2. Misty and I had seen him hurriedly moving stuff out the night before and now, here was the wrecking crew. The handyman used his key to access the open port into Cube 2 and while the Sheriff was poking his nose around...the handyman was changing out the locks. I've since seen Squatter come back twice. Nice nasty surprise. Try messing with Pearl again, Punkass! Next time, you might not be so lucky.

One more day of sliding down the line into Philly and then I'm off for a couple of days. It's not too bad as long as I have something to entertain me but that bust of Einstein in front of Einstein Medical is starting to look more and more like Heath Ledger's Joker by the day. Weathering effects have not been kind to Albert at all.

Episode 3: At Home And A Broad

2009-05-05T18:27:00.002-05:00

Don't start griping about the incorrect grammar of the title. I know what I wrote and I meant to do so. When taken in context of this post, you'll understand why.

I got up at the asscrack of dawn for my Open House at Disc Makers. Ever wondered who mass produces those wonderful wafers of technology called DVDs and CDs that you love and enjoy so much? Yeah, it's people like this. I hopped into Pearl and flew down the highway into Pennsauken for this thing. I listened to George Noory interview Stephen Root (Office Space, King of The Hill, Bicentennial Man) as I tooled along the highway at a steady 40 mph.

It's a safe speed, a nice, relaxing speed. I wasn't laying the hammer down this time. I had some time to spare. Leaving the cube at six in the morning for a short drive that wouldn't last even that isn't exactly my idea of a good time, but, for the purposes of landing employment, it's what I had to do. I got there well before 7am, the time of the appointment and when they finally opened their doors, I was greeted with an application and basic skills test. Great.

What I don't get is that these people had my resume' or, at least, a copy of it on file electronically. I could understand the skills test but another paper application? I filled everything out and turned it in. Two people were called to the back for a typing test. I wasn't and neither was the other guy who showed up with me. If this blog and the fact that Criss Angel's chatroom telling me to slow my typing down aren't evidence that I'm a prime candidate for the typing test, I don't know what is. Another big discouraging wall was when a nearby hospital emailed me stating that my application for employment had been rejected because they'd found someone more qualified.

Unless the dude ran black ops for some secret police organization, I don't fucking think so. I can read between those lines and that was as predictable as the punchline to the joke about the psychic getting struck by lightning. Don't you find it repulsive that it's YOU who have to be transparent to your prospective employer but not the other way around? I'm calling bullshit on that. I'm going to apply again. They don't brush the likes of ME off that fucking easily.

I got back to the cube even earlier than expected. I'm not holding my breath on that one either. Then, I get a call. Another call center job that I'd applied for was looking to hire me. The guy over the phone liked the way I talked about electronics and, between you and me, let's get one thing straight. As it stands, me without an electronic device of some type might as well be me walking around naked. If I don't have my PDA, I've got my iPhone. If I don't have that, I have my laptop, my PSP or my desktop. I can ditch cigarettes much more easily than I can ditch my addiction to the world of the brightly-lit displays, satellite relays, SatCom or frequent runs in Cyberspace. If you can't tell that I want to make my concept of a cerebral 150 Terabyte Wetwire implant a reality, I don't know how else to spell that out for you.

Sure, I know a lot about electronics, I'm just afraid of bricking one of my devices if I start fucking with it. Last thing I wanna do is crack open the case to anything, make one wrong move and my device (whichever it is) becomes an expensive paperweight. So the offer of an online university to learn more about information systems and possible government grants was too good to pass up. I'm on board if they are.

After that little bit, I had to whisk Pop over to Philly again to get zapped with radiation. Needless to say, sitting there, reading Wallace Wang's book Steal This Computer Book 4.0 is an eye-opener. It occurred to me...why shouldn't I go back to school? Why shouldn't I get paid top dollar for my skills and why shouldn't I of all people be permitted to sharpen them to razor status? I'm already using my own sweet time to learn this stuff, dammit, I should get a piece of the sky for that at least. If my love for electronics and my own study doesn't show them initiative enough...fuck 'em. I'll do the shit myself, save up, go through the school and breeze through it with my middle finger flying proudly once I graduate. Hell yes....goddamn right.

So, here I was, sitting around a hospital, learning stuff about viruses, phone phreaking and social engineering. Dangerous stuff in the hands of a derranged madman but, in my hands...useful tools for my education.

As Pop and I came back from Philly, it occurred to me that Broad Street looked exactly like it did in the Rocky movies from oh so long ago...what a shithole. Speaking of which, as we were streaking along Kelly Drive, I saw something. I must have driven by it thousands of times and never noticed it.

"Is that what I think it is?!" I asked Pop.

"Oh that?" he said, "Yeah, I think that's Grant on Horseback."

"No!" I said like an excited kid, "That!"

I pointed and Pop got a good chuckle out of my amazement.

"Oh that," he said, "Yep...that's Rocky...Old Stallone himself. It was at the top of the steps of the art museum but the board of directors didn't like it so they had to take it down."

I was reeling as I piloted the car along toward the Ben Franklin Bridge back into Jersey. He explained that it had been moved several times. I couldn't believe it. All these scullers were heading out in the rain to go rowing these boats around and most of them didn't even take notice at the piece of film history...a piece of a proud Philadelphia moment...right in their midst.

I vowed that, sooner or later, I was going to get a pic of me standing next to it.

You really have to love how some things just work out.

Right now, my head is filled with images of helping to develop the technology we have in existence already. I'm ready to rock and I don't think the world will ever be the same once I do what I need to do.

Get ready, world...Genocyde's comin' to town...a fiery invader.

Episode 2: Of Men And Machines

2009-05-03T21:04:00.002-05:00

Tomorrow begins Hell Week. Monday's the worst of the worst. Misty's dad will have to have me transport him into Philadelphia for the first of many many rounds over the next six weeks in his fight with stomach cancer. Doesn't help that Ma has lung cancer that resurfaced after 15 years.

So what'll happen? Well, I'll hop into their car, swing Pa down to one side of Philly to have the chemo popped into the port and then swing him over to the other side to have the doctors there at the other appointment zap him for about fifteen minutes with radiation. Geez! Talk about awful. I can't imagine what that's like for him. The other day when I did it, he and I joked about our respective weight. He jokingly told me that I could easily shed some of the pounds I've packed on with his weight loss plan. No thanks, Pa, I think I like my workout regimen and diet more.

Kinda makes you think about how early science fiction writers might have been more prophet than storytellers. These days, there are procedures such as cyberknife that can remove tumors without being as invasive as the arcane scalpel method. If you cruise through cyberspace sometime, you'll see that double amputees now have new legs that can make them run faster than you or me. There are even people working on cybernetic eyes.

Man and machine are melding in ways of which we never thought possible. Now, before you start thinking that we're going to be able to replace amputated arms with something that resembles the arm of the Model T-800 Terminator, think again. The problem with that type of cybernetic attachment is that we, as a species, fluctuate in size. Take Trent Reznor for example. Once, he was this skinny dude but now he's all stacked out from lifting weights. Imagine trying to train like that with a cybernetic arm. Parts of your biological limb would eventually rupture and tear away from the connections of the robotic arm. Not exactly feasable yet.

Pacemaker/defibrillators are one means we've accomplished cyborgs. Once the heart goes into an irregular heartbeat...ZANG! Welcome to the world of the kickstarted. Hearing aids have gotten smaller and more effective, advancements in laser surgery...name it.

Though there is better living through science and chemistry...we are all becoming cyborgs.

Episode 1: Infiltration

2009-04-17T21:55:00.003-05:00

I know what some of you are thinking.

You're confused. I know. Still, this is a new chapter in my life since my self-insertion into the sprawl of Night City, NJ. I still can't wrap my head around the fact that I'm here. It still seems so foreign to me.

Right now, Misty's cooking and we'll both be sitting down to a dinner of teriyaki steak and tri-color Tortellini. I can't wait.

Maggie and Jessy, her two cats, are still getting adjusted to having Daddy around. I still miss Izzy. I wonder where he is, what he's doing, why he didn't want to come with me. He was like my kid. It's hard to let your kids go. It's what I had to do. I had no choice in that matter. I loved waking up next to him. I'd wake up, his paws would be on my shirt. He'd start kneading and attempting to eat my shirt. I'd smooth the fur on his head. I never stopped loving him. He was my little buddy and I'll forever miss him. I still don't understand how it came to this. One day, he was passing out on my shoulder, draping himself over me and sleeping peacefully. He'd lay in my arms like a baby and I'd smooth the fur out on his body. The next day, he didn't want to be around me. I still don't know what changed. I wanted him to come with me to our new home but he'd decided that something changed. I think Maggie senses my sense of loss. She's very affectionate and loves the attention that I once gave Izzy. Izzy, if you're still out there, I still love you little buddy. Nothing will ever change that.

Things have been going increasingly good for me. The job hunting isn't totally petering out. There are actually plenty of jobs and one of the applications landed me a job the very next day. It was AMP Marketing in Philadelphia. I cruised over to Philly and spoke with them. Aggressive, fast-paced marketing. Sounded like my kind of thing. I'm not waiting on them to call me back, though Joel said he loved my first impression, because there are lots of other things out there that I can do and I'm applying for them all.

I think I've worn a tie more here than I ever have when I was in Louisiana. Here, people seem to like my sense of style and I'm not always stuck in the house because there's nothing to do. Oh no, there's plenty out there to do and see, the thing is, I just want to hang back for now. No knee-jerk movements yet.

So here we are, Episode One in this series of chronicles. The new chapter to open the new book. It's time to access the files, let the chips fall where they may.

On Friday, all I did was apply, apply, apply. When I was job hunting ten years ago, my hand cramped from all the applications there were to fill out manually. Now, everything is done in cyberspace. Bankers Life and Casualty emailed me, I went to that interview/questionnaire fill-out/presentation. They called me back. Interview number two for this one. Looks as though things are going to look up for this job. Many of the "applicants" who were invited did not bother expressing interest in returning. I've got a couple of questions for them when I get there because, let's face it, I'm sick of being unemployed. It was a great vacation but it must end at some point. It can't last forever.

Once I get the infiltration set up and done then it's time to bide my time and just get myself locked in and then...the fun begins.

So far, Night City has been something really interesting. I've gotten lost more times than I care to count. I seem to have already made one enemy in the squatter in Zone Two. Seems I was coming back from the Corporate Sprawl when I noticed something rattling in the truck. The problem was that it stopped once the speed reached 20 but slowing down or stopping...well, it got louder.

Last night, Misty's Bro-In-Law and fellow geek, Darrin was looking at it. He's learned a lot from mechanics and wanted to see if he couldn't figure it out before I did something stupid like waste some mechanoid mercenary's time with it. It sounded to me like it was coming from the rear passenger side but it wasn't. It was coming from the passenger front side. We couldn't find anything loose in there until we opened up what serves as a hubcap in the center of my rim only to find that two of the six lug nuts were off the lugs and happily frolicking in my goddamned hubcap.

Of course! Why wouldn't it be? I only pulled shit like that in high school to people I didn't like. I'd pry a hubcap, drop a couple of marbles, ball bearings, rocks or whatever in there and pop it back in place. Those idiots would be worried all weekend until they started to get wise that someone was fucking with their shit but never, ever would I loosen someone's lug nuts.

"Would someone have done this to you?" Darrin asked.

"I've only been here two and a half weeks, D," I said, "That's not really long enough to make enemies."

We both dismissed it until Misty brought it up again. Again, I made my same appeal as we were tightening the nuts.

"You've been parking in Zone Two's Port," she said.

Oh shit, that's right. Zone Two's squatter lost his space when the super allowed me to park there due to an eviction on his part. Squatter had come in, run the woman who lived there out and then neglected the rent for two months. Now, Squatter's transport's front end is shit due to an accident he had. It is pretty conceivable that he could have popped the cap with a big screwdriver, loosened the two nuts and then let nature take its unholy course with me. Still, it's speculation. If I do catch Squatter fucking with Pearl (again?) he's going to find himself in a very nasty surprise forced eviction with immediate accomodations he won't like.

He'll probably return to find the locks changed. A service I'll happily lend for free complete with note that reads, "What did five fingers...say to the face?! SLAP!"

So now that I'm here and I'm settled in and looking, I have decided to go ahead and start downloading more podcasts from Coast To Coast AM. All I have to say is that it's about damn time they made it mass-downloadable from iTunes. Geez, trying to catch up by downloading four individual hours from each show for four months was fucking tedious. Diving into cyberspace has never been more fun for me.

God, What A Trip...

One more thing before I jack out of this beautiful place. If you have an iPhone and you play iKnights, iMob or iVampires, add me (Friend code 139622997) and watch cross promotion on iVampires because of two users (named bs kenshin and samurai757) who are apparently a couple of emo kids with a god complex stuck on Edward from Twilight. Maybe they have a thing for him, who knows?

Anyway, add me and let's have some fun with these assholes.

Episode 129: The Night City Chronicles Begins...

2009-04-12T21:19:00.003-05:00

Location: Night City, New Jersey

A new life has begun. There's a fresh start for me now.

I guess it all started back just before I left. St. Patrick's Day was a real clusterfuck at work. I ended up not only hyperextending everydamnthing in my hand but I also wrecked my middle finger breaking up a fight.

The finger was bruised to shit and the joint at the digital tip hurt like hell. Now, it's getting much better. Still, that's not why I write. I started packing the second week I was off. The first was all planning. What I would take with me, what I wouldn't...it was all planned but it seemed like the more packing I did, the more throwing shit out that I did, the more boxes it required. In the end, I had to leave some stuff with a friend of mine. The weight would just be too much for me to pack. Not to mention, half the shit I'd ended up pawning off onto other friends and the occasional passerby who stopped to root through the massive amounts of crap I'd thrown out because I either couldn't take it with me or didn't want or need it.

Why did that have to happen? Well the roomies who were supposed to take over the place didn't. Now, my old residence has nothing but the ghosts that haunt it. The ghosts of past times, old memories, and a lot of pain involved. I'll spare you that story but know that, when I found out, it meant more work for me to have to do. Needless to say, I was irritated slightly.

I was supposed to leave on Monday, April 6. I ended up leaving on April 7th. I was a day behind and hurting like hell, physically. Since all of the utilities had been shut down on the 6th, I ended up having to stay one more night in that toilet of a town but I did it in relative comfort. I stayed in my old bedroom at my parents' place. It was a fitting way to end my time there. No more nights in a drafty house that was falling apart. Though I called that place home for ten years, I had mixed emotions about leaving. Part of me screamed that I didn't want to go but the other part of me screamed even louder to pull up anchor and run like hell.

I'd loaded the truck and saw that driving with that load would be tricky as hell. I couldn't get anything properly tarped and getting things firmly strapped down was going to be a feat. As much finagling as had been done, I still ended up losing a small garbage bag load of laundry that had been in the back of the truck. On three separate occasions, I stopped to reconfigure and resecure the load. By the third stop, I decided it was time to lighten the load. I ditched some stuff and that was probably one of the most painful things I'd ever done. I didn't want to leave some of it but I didn't have a choice. The truck was too loaded down for me to continue on as I had done.

Finally, I picked up and hauled off again. I drove and drove and drove. My start was already late but now, it would be even more late. I knew that, at some point, I'd have to find lodging for the night but now wasn't the time to think about it. I had to put as much distance between myself and Louisiana as possible and so I kept driving. I knew that, most likely, I'd be stopping in Alabama but I'd just hoped, as exhausted as I'd make myself working the past few days, that I'd make it as far through Alabama and through the first leg of my drive as possible.

As night fell, I'd keep driving. I was loathe to stop. I wanted to lay the hammer down on this trip.

I'd done this one time before. Back then, I had a girl who decided to stop as the truck in which we were travelling only dropped to three quarters of a tank. It was a constant irritation I didn't want to deal with. This trip, I let it drop to almost a quarter tank before I'd pull over. I barely ate or drank anything and with each destination reached, I'd survey my constitution and tell myself the old chorus of that Falco song I love so much, "Push, Push, Push a little further."

Push I did...until my goddamned iPhone ran outta battery. It was then that I decided to find a motel. I didn't want to at first. My mom's paranoia about my stuff getting jacked was starting to play hell on me. Now, it was a necessity. I'd get a shower, charge the phone, use the bathroom and check out once the phone was charged.

No dice, though...place was closed. I hit the road again and found a rest stop a mere mile away and pulled in...right there at the end of Tennessee. I opened and fired up the laptop and plugged the phone into that. The laptop would charge the phone for me as long as the battery would hold out. I could also use the bathroom and get a little something to eat and drink from the vending machines...unless the Pepsis I bought about half a state back were still cool.

I snacked on a small package of donuts and chased them with the last of my Pepsis. I was using them to wake up. Not that I needed to. I just didn't want to sleep. I'd come this far, why not push, push, push a little bit more?

I stood there, chatting with the attendant that early in the morning. When he told me how far I was from my destination, I was elated. He quoted me a mere seven hours. The entire trip was 22 hours long. My heart danced with joy. I'd packed up my entire world into the back of my truck and sped off back in Louisiana. I heard my brain singing to me.

Eastbound and down
Packed on up and truckin'
I'm gonna do what they say
can't be done

I've got a long way to go
and a short, short time to get there
and I hear those voices singin'
"Run on, Damien, Run!"

Ever the wordsmith, my brain can be at times. I decided to retire to the truck and have a look at the progress. Nearly half full. I still had a little way to go with the charging. I decided to sit back and close my eyes. I went out like a light. I slept for about 30 minutes before waking up, finding the laptop battery dead, the phone charged up about four fifths of it's capacity. I plotted the rest of my course...9 hours. At the rate of travel I was looking, I'd be in Night City, New Jersey by Mid-to-late afternoon. I'd be home to my baby. I would never have to worry about people getting bent out of shape at me over something on my t-shirt or whatever other excuse that some drunk, backwater type would suddenly become a soldier for Christ.

I plowed on through the day and at about four thirty in the afternoon, I was home.

The battery on the phone died as I reached my new home and once we got things set up, I know now that there's no other place on earth I'd rather be.

I've been up and down this state and, after getting lost several times, I know that I'll eventually figure this place out.

I will say one thing...some of the drivers here are nuts but there were nuttier drivers in Virginia than there are here. Washington D.C.'s roads suuuuuuuuuuuck ass. I know that from accidentally ending up on them but, look, if you decide you're coming up for a visit, let me know and take a plane.

Videodrone 2: Vader Speaks, You Better Listen!

2009-03-20T10:11:00.001-05:00

Random News Update

2009-03-16T06:17:00.001-05:00

That Alfa-Matrix Music Player that usually sits there on the right? Yeah, it's not there because Trig.com is running some maintenance. Just got word of that from Bernard at Alfa-Matrix. THANKS BERNARD!!!

This has been another...Useless Fact.

Episode 128: Keeping It Honest

2009-03-15T13:23:00.002-05:00

So far, that last blog stirred up two comments on MySpace and a whole lot of email. The idiots who emailed with nothing intelligent to say, I deleted after reading only a few lines. Most of them with well-thought stances (even those in disagreement) I made replies.

Truth is, I've got lotsa weaponry in the house. I've got everything from a full-tang samurai sword to my guns and a refusal to give up any of them. I know some didn't like the wording of that last post. That's all well and good but had I actually gone on my usual pitch, I don't think it would have stirred people to response as effectively. The fact that some were stirred to response is a fairly big indication of one thing...The Truth Is Not Always Pretty.

When the anti-gun nuts went off on their tangent about The Right To Keep And Bear Arms being a collective right, not all of them were initially eloquent and I guarantee that there were times where they had to ditch eloquence to make the point. I felt that eloquence was not saving lives.

See, when a gun-wielding maniac comes in and starts shooting up your church or other place of worship, you see people dying because of his pure, vicious killer instinct. I'm sick of it. Presenting things in an intelligent fashion has helped to preach to the choir but it hasn't shaken the minds of those who wish to hide behind whatever excuse they can to hope they can survive by taking refuge in Stockholm Syndrome.

For those who responded, one and all, I ask only one question.

Where Is YOUR Line In The Sand?

When do you say "Enough is enough!" When do you quit leaving it in the hands of others and start actually attempting to do something? When do you quit tying hands that would actually do something if you won't?

I'm fine with those who do not take action so long as I am allowed to take action and don't have to put up with some stupid crap from them standing in my way or making ridiculous demands of me later. If you won't do something, shut up and get outta my way. If you're going to do something then do it and shut your mouth.

If ministers and congregation being shot to hell isn't where you're going to say, "Okay! That's it!" then perhaps you're comfy with being driven out of your favorite church next. Stay at home, do whatever you like but while your head's in the sand, your ass is up in the air and guess what, the gunmen are still on their way.

Now I'm not saying go lawless and turn this thing into the wild west again, I'm saying let's start getting the community ready to rise and resist armed criminals and even unarmed criminals. Let's start questioning with intensity and authority, everyone who asks you to surrender your freedom because of some perceived threat from inside. Screw licensing. No more begging the permission of the government for a RIGHT that is GUARANTEED by our Constitution and upheld as an INDIVIDUAL RIGHT by The United States Supreme Court. You do know that this is affirmed by our Declaration of Independence as an inalienable RIGHT to LIFE endowed by our Creator. At least I hope you do. If you needed three pieces of evidence, there they are. If you need more evidence, read The Founders Second Amendment by Stephen Halbrook.

With that out of the way, I feel it's time for us to really act locally. Let's provide a few community models. Let's start swarming the town hall meetings and TELL them that the situation is unacceptable. Let's propose our own solutions and tell them that those solutions proceed with or without their permission. The strategy is full-on aggressive standing with no backing down. Let them make their threats, they'll be empty and hollow. If the media refuses to cover people making their stand then we will give that media competition.

The time to get our shit together and act is long overdue. I'm not saying take the law into our own hands. I'm saying let's take a proactive step forward and keep taking those steps.

We cannot, nor will we ever be terrorized.

Episode 127: Stop Kneeling And Start Shooting!

2009-03-12T07:47:00.003-05:00

I'm sick as hell about hearing about some idiot going clownshit crazy and then walking into a church to begin a short-lived reign of terror.

Look, it's no secret that I'm cynical as hell with most self-proclaimed Christian groups but it goes a little something like this. I am not about to see this recent rash of news stories being used as more reason to get rid of guns. I won't use their tragedies to bolster a political agenda.

Fair, right?

I never did say that I wouldn't use it as a platform to state my opinion on the matter. Since this is my little corner of the internet, fuck you it's getting stated as fact.

None of you will like this. I guarantee it. I didn't like the thought when it crossed my mind but once I saw the hard evidence, I couldn't deny it. Get ready, America, because I'm about to kick you in the nads on this one.

It's our fault. All of it. The entire down the wall decline is our fault. Those of us who enjoyed our option to carry a weapon for self-defense purposes have been marginalized by a small and very vocal minority. How did that minority win? We didn't fucking say something when we should have. We were all too busy. We were all wrapped up in our own little worlds and we scoffed at them thinking that it wouldn't happen.

Well, it happened. Now, every last single damn one of us are being criminalized. Yeah, sure, you might not believe me but I'm going to provide you with further proof on the matter. Once this batch of bleating hearts (the same ones that won't let anyone pray anywhere for any reason) had their way, gun owners, operators, carriers and dealers were "barbarians" and "glorified thugs" and what's worse is that not one of us got up enough intestinal fortitude to do anything BUT sit around and complain.

Our nuts existed as we sat in our living rooms. So kids continued dying on the streets. Street gangs still had their guns, places of business were still getting robbed and the worst thing about it is that the right people were not able to defend themselves. It didn't stop there. Schools became more violent and with every firearm free zone, there existed only a new barrel of ducks to shoot, knife, maim and kill.

I have to ask one question, "How is that civilized society going these days?"

During the election, I told all of my friends to watch for a rise in gun crime in the most unlikely of places. I figured day care centers, sporting events, pet shops, hell, just think of somewhere you wouldn't expect a gun crime to happen and that would be a good location. I really didn't consider churches but for a brief second but I thought that it might seem a little farfetched. I now see that I had erred in my thinking.

So now it's not even safe to attend church. Now what do we do?

Well, I'm sure that if you're not bothered by the fact that it's not safe to even go to your respective places of worship (to include synagogues, Buddhist temples, shopping malls) without some clownfuck idiot thinking he's the next Rambo and killing you will better the world because his goldfish told him it would, I guess nothing will.

My solution is a simple one. No more lobbying. No more political trips. No more attempting to appeal to politicians. They're not listening. I'll tell you what though, if you feel like writing to your politicians about it, that's cool but write only a few lines and let them be as follows:

Dear (Insert Title And Name),

This recent rash of church shootings has lead me to only one conclusion. You see, I've tried like hell to get onto you about stopping this mess but now I'm telling you you've done a shit job and I'M going to handle it myself. I'm now packing heat wherever I go. I'm not saying it's a gun, I'm not saying it's NOT a gun but guess what? You're fucking ineffective at handling this but I'm a fucking great aim and I will. Don't try that bullshit about the cops. The cops are nothing more than a fucking cleanup crew and I'm sure that cleaning up the mess of a minister and his congregation is far more tragic and costly to the taxpayer than cleaning up ONE dead asshole. I'm not asking your permission. I'm TELLING you how this is going to happen. Go take care of the economy, I'm going to make criminal fuckheads think twice.

Signed,
(Your Name Here)

It's time to put them on notice. It's time we started taking responsibility here. If I'm in the middle of supplication to my deity, I don't like being fucking interrupted. If I'm in council with a priest, I don't like being fucking interrupted. It's a lot like sleep, salvation is...it's just one of those things you don't fuck around with at all. I don't care who you are. I take sleep very seriously. It's one of those few precious moments where all the troubles of the world aren't on my mind. If someone breaks into my home while that happens and wakes me up...he's got it coming. No stopping and guess what, I don't care if he does try to break and run, I'm killing him dead where he once stood.

For those thinking of going clownshit crazy while I'm in prayer, service or confession read this and absorb it. It's okay if you want to try and kill me but do it while I'm in the middle of any of these and I'll send you to Hell and save God the trouble. I don't like you and neither do any of the weapons I carry. When you find yourself faced with Lara The New Jersey Firecracker or Wrath of The Almighty, just go ahead and do yourself a favor, count on dying and count on it being painful. I won't attempt to de-escalate that situation. A shot to the head and half your face blown away by Holy Shit Fire with Lead Accompaniment and Thor's Thunder will suffice to see to it that the situation does not escalate further. Got that? Good!

Now, some of you may ask, "Damien, won't you go to jail if you pack your gun into Church and defend anyone?" More likely than not, yes. Does that bother me? Shit, haven't you been fucking reading? There's more than just time in jail that bothers me about the whole situation. Right now, don't you know the politicians are now wanting YOUR legally-owned guns? Why? Because now YOU might go apeshit and kill someone. And YOU don't find that absurd in the least? I'm less bothered about being jailed for killing some criminal scumfuck than I am about allowing it to happen to my minister, my girl, my friends or even me. In jail, chances are, I'll get out. Dead, chances are, I'll fucking stay dead. Which do you prefer? Fuckin' thought so.

We're the ones that caused it and we're the ones that need to fix it. So I say let's not let another minister, priest, rabbi, swami or heirarchical head of any religious sect die. Let's get out there, pray for God to be on our side and keep instruments of wrath at ours.

If you disagree with me here, fine, but understand that I'm going to classify anyone who hides behind chapter and verse with this bullshit notion that I'm in the wrong a fucking coward.

Episode 126: For What It's Worth...

2009-03-09T19:28:00.002-05:00

I'm convinced that I'd suck as an attorney, minister, teacher or counsellor. Very seldom have I ever given advice that was taken. Though all of my advice come from a much different perspective than that of the person asking (sometimes even those not asking) it seems that very rarely is it ever taken. It's certainly sound in my mind.

I say that, not to boast or to become a braggart, but because people more often do the opposite and the outcome has always been dreadful. What's worse is the fact that there are times I should listen to my own intuition and I do not. What a conundrum that has been created from my life.

I dare not attempt reverse psychology. God only knows what the hell would issue forth should that be the day that the advice seeker becomes the advice taker.

It is in this post that I will make one honest attempt. One final reckoning with this issue and put it to rest once and for all time.

My friends, skeptics, detractors, enemies (your self-assigned role and title), and first-time readers, I offer you one last bit of counsel here. If you find it sound and true and it works (and I guarantee it will) I shall keep writing at your requests...even if all I get is one. Still, it is under the condition that you read through my post, follow my instructions step-by-step, specifically and then let the advice work. If it doesn't work, then what do you have to lose? A crazed man in your life. Some off-the-rack blogger in an off-the-rack culture who's words are as old and feeble as the idea that you can cure a disease by treating its symptoms.

Should my advice work, as I personally guarantee it will, then I ask that you share your story with someone. Share the advice. Then, for those of you who believe that you are still just one person who can affect nothing in life, you will walk away from that belief just as a man who is frustrated with his broken-down car will leave it on the side of the road. You will abandon it.

I should warn you that this piece of advice is the most powerful that I've ever taken. It cured me. It freed me. It made me whole again. I'm happier now than I ever have been, I feel better and, best of all, I no longer have a care in the world because of it. Why? Because I had nothing to lose but that which was keeping me unhappy, unhealthy and fearful.

Speaking of that, think of something that is bothering you. Get it clear in your mind. There is something in your life that is keeping you unhealthy, unhappy and fearful of losing it. Psychologists and sociologists call it codependency. Each of us suffers from it in some form or another. Each of us is so dependent on something that, while you and I may hate it, despise it and wish it were never present, we also cannot live without it. It could be a bad relationship, cigarettes, gambling, drug addiction (harder than cigarettes), food, attention, pain, whatever it is, you hate that it's in your life but you just can't believe that you can live your life without it.

That's the bad news.

The good news is, you can.

Let's begin. Sit down for this one. Light up if you really need one now, go get the coffee or tea on, grab a snack, whatever you do...get ready to sit and stay awhile. You need this every bit as badly as I did.

Okay, got that done? Good! Now, here is the most important part...whatever it is in your life, hang on to it. I mean cling to it tightly. Until you're done with this post, smoke as many cigarettes as you can stomach, belittle yourself if you feel necessary, keep that bad relationship's number at the ready...whatever. Just don't let go until you're done.

Sounds crazy, doesn't it? Good! Now, think of a time that you didn't have that pain in your life. How carefree were you? Were you just a child? Weren't you more healthy then and much happier in your life? When did you decide that this pain was going to be a part of your life until it's end? The answer: You Didn't! You don't want that kind of pain in your life, do you? If you did, you wouldn't be reading this. Now, how crazy does the previous paragraph sound? Is it any more crazy in comparison to you putting the crap into your life? You just went back to a time in your childhood when you didn't need it but you say that you cannot imagine life without this bit of trouble. Perhaps my advice isn't as crazy as it sounds isn't it?

Still, you grew into the brainwashing. It seems "cool" to have that little secret. That little something that you and only you can get away with. It's a good feeling to have the sympathy of others, even when you know that you don't want or deserve it. Is it, really? Think of how confined you are. You have to increase your stress level now. You have to keep that dirty little secret tucked away. You have to deal with the stigmas of it and the worst of it is, you constantly question even your own motives. You don't trust yourself. Why are you carrying that sort of luggage? It's because of the trap. The trap is that it seems cool. You're like your heroes growing up, even if those heroes did have questionable motives at all times, you see yourself as just like them. You think you have a confidence booster but you have just the opposite. You're worried about your confidence being destroyed. Once you get into it, you're trapped. The worst part is that millions upon millions are spent each year in an attempt to lure you in. Hollywierd, advertisements, Made-for-TV dramas, just name something related to your problem that popped up in your mind and you will know what it is I'm talking about. By the time you see your situation as "cool" or "grown up" you are back to feeling like a child at square one yet again and you never get out of that. You always wish it weren't there. You always wish, even as your doing it, that you'd never started.

It may seem like a contradiction that I said that you can live without it and then I say things like, "you're trapped" but I assure you, it isn't. Just because you've fallen into a trap doesn't mean you can't get out of it. It's only when YOU decide to give up and give in that YOU keep yourself locked within it. Yes, some outside influences existed but the truth is, it was you that knew the relationship was bad, the deal was rotten, cigarettes and drugs could kill you or that this might be the last time you get into the car to pull the stunt you've pulled a thousand times over...it's always that one thousand and first time that will end it all. Where are you now? Is it distasteful enough to drop? Of course not or you would have followed my instructions prior to me giving them out.

Keep reading the section on brainwashing to really get it if you don't understand it yet. I assure you, eventually, you'll see the correlation.

Now that you do understand, keep reading.

I knew my cigarette habit was killing me. I also knew it wasn't a habit...it was drug addiction. I had to face that fact and then realize that, should someone have the gumption to do it, they could control me inside and out and all they would need in the world was one final pack of cigarettes left on the planet. To be honest, they'd probably need only half of a cigarette and I would have done anything and everything to get it. I was hooked. I was addicted. I thought of myself writhing on the bathroom floor screaming curses and shouting to the heavens or anyone who would listen to just give me one fix. Just feed the demon inside one more time. You cannot imagine how agonizing it was. I begged, I pleaded, I'd deal with the recurring sicknesses. I just wanted one cigarette, one drag. I'd quit cold turkey and I couldn't keep my mind off of it. The day before, I'd made up my mind...it was high time to quit and now, I was regretting my decision. All it would have taken is for me to take the five dollars in my pocket, walk across the street to the store and buy one pack.

But there I was on the bathroom floor, in agony as though I were coming off of heroin and the part that makes me ashamed of it now is that I know the withdrawl pangs were not that intense. It's like that one bully that just goads you in school. He pulls your hair, calls you names, trips you in the hallway, laughs at you, shoves you and won't leave you alone and you can't wait until the weekend so that you will be free of him. Did you ever think of what it is he does on his weekends? He doesn't come after you, does he? He doesn't give a damn about you. You're not a person of interest to him. If you were, surely, he'd torment you day and night all week.

That demon called drug addiction (the one I call Pusher) is a lot like that. I hated myself when I lit that first cigarette after making it a week. I was in a pit of black depression. I hoped that this cigarette would just kill me. I'd hoped that I'd take my final drag, my blood pressure would skyrocket suddenly, make me pass out, pop an embolism in my brain and that would be it...no more shame, really. No more than the heroin junkie who dies from an overdose.

Still, I cannot tell you how many times I quit and went back. Once, I successfully (and I use that term loosely) quit on the patch. I was breathing much more easily and I wasn't going crazy but the problem was that I still wanted one every once in awhile. I didn't know how to handle it. I did whatever I could. I worked out and took an active interest in the martial arts/self-defense DVDs that I'd gotten. Guess what? It worked! It worked but only for a month. I started smoking again and this time, I wasn't depressed about it. I pretty much figured that this was it for me, I'm hooked for life. I'd fallen into the trap, cast the patch aside and said, "Okay...cigarettes it is, then." Most of my friends were smokers, my dad was a smoker, my siblings, one and all were smokers...nothing was changing.

I even still have my t-shirt that says "I Smoke, So Fuck Off."

How much of an illustration did I need to tell me that I was a drug addict? A friend had actually procured the shirt for me by sweet-talking a girl that he knew at the shop that carried it. I'm still unsure how I should feel about it. I don't worry about it. Free clothing...it's still not bad.

After my vacation, I'd decided that enough was enough. There were far too few places I couldn't smoke but that wasn't my deciding factor. There were multiple sicknesses per year but that wasn't it either. My martial arts training was suffering but that damned sure wasn't it. I will admit, though, that it was a heavy influence. After a couple of friends recommended the book that I'd mentioned previously, I decided that if it didn't work then there was nothing for me to lose. I damned sure wasn't going on wellbutrin on chantix. That shit had to have an accompanying antidepressant which required a diagnosis that would have me adjudicated mentally defective. Guess what that means for my guns? If you had guessed that they'd be gone, you'd be right. I'd rather fight lung cancer and have the means to prolong my agony and or go target shooting than not. I'd rather kill an intruder in my home and suffer the heart attack or stroke afterward than be classified a depression case. Forget it, not happening. Patches cost $40 per two-week period and that would go on for eight bloody weeks! The pills themselves would cost $150 roughly for a month's supply and I'm not factoring in the antidepressants. The audiobook on Amazon would only cost me $20. Guess what? At the time, cigarettes would have cost me $33 per carton (more in other areas) and since the book was cheaper, I chose the book. I smoked as I listened to it and I kept going with it. I re-read some chapters, making sure I got the main idea of it. Then, on Monday two weeks ago, I quit. Unfortunately, I'd fallen off the wagon on Tuesday but jumped back on for Wednesday...the worst possible time to quit. I walked into work a non-smoker for day one and I made it. Day two, same thing, the weekend. The best part was that I didn't have one single moment of slapping on a patch, I didn't replace it with anything and I wasn't on the floor of my bathroom screaming to the skies to end me or feed the demon.

But what happened? I took my own advice. I also made a bit of a supplication.

I must say that, before I continue with this part of the story (The Sunday Before I Made The First Attempt) you must understand that I'm not here to force any spirituality on you. That is something personal that YOU must come to terms with or not first and foremost. I have no say in it. I only offer it as a part of the story. I know the value that I place upon it and you don't have to. If you're here to start a holy war in favor of atheism, I will say, go find your war elsewhere. If you're going to call me stupid or crazy, I offer this question; how is it crazy that I performed an action and I am no longer degrading my health, cluttering up my arteries and lungs, engaging in that filthy act of smoking and am now feeling better and far less stressed than ever before? Would it not have been MORE SO crazy or stupid to keep killing myself slowly even though I knew that is exactly what I was doing to myself? It seems stupid and crazy to continue self-destruction in my opinion but you're entitled to yours. Call it anecdotal, call it crazy, call it stupid but if you have nothing constructive to place in here, simply go find something else to do.

The Sunday Night Battle Preparation:

I know how this will sound but every word is absolutely true. During a service in the chapel at work, a guest was giving his sermon. His sermon was something along the lines of laying your burdens down/giving them to Jesus...that kind of thing. He'd instructed the congregation there to write their concerns down on paper and lay them down at the altar. The same things he said that I know I'd been waiting for someone, anyone aside from the author of that book to tell me were forthcoming. Perhaps a prayer was being answered and, even if it wasn't, what did I have to lose? I took a loose slip of paper and wrote my own concerns down and, when I thought no one was looking, I cast them down at the foot of the altar while making my rounds and then I heard the whole of the chapel, guests and all, erupt into cheering as the guest minister said, "Man of God, thank you, brother!"

I had been spotted. Perhaps God doesn't allow some works to go unnoticed. My own little prayer was on that paper and I'm not here to write about it at length. That will be for another blog, another time but the effects of it were sound.

Carr mentioned in his book that the withdrawl pangs were a little monster with a need to feed. Tammi once asked me if I'd ever "slain that dragon." Monsters, dragons...what were they really?

Demons...only that, and nothing more. They, like their Master, walk about as roaring lions. They have no power over me and I realized that.

Unfortunately, I was falling asleep at the wheel on Tuesday morning coming home. Another pack of smokes, I could deal with later, a truck accident, I could not.

Winston Churchill once said, "If you're going through Hell, keep going." That doesn't mean self-infliction. It does mean to push toward your own betterment.

Now, take all of this into consideration. Why are you hanging on to that bad relationship, that addiction, that crutch. Are you that afraid that your life will be less comfy without it?

THAT's the utter lunacy. You're giving your true power and authority away to an object or person that won't be there when you need it the most. THAT's crazy!

So now, whenever you're ready to lay it down, try this.

1. If you have the space to do it, write it down...that thing you hate the most. Now, you can leave it upon your altar at church. You can give it over to God. You can flush it down the toilet. You can cast it into a fire but make sure that the thing you write down is the thing you resolve to rid your life of within the next day or two.

2. The Day of Reckoning: Walk Away from it. Put it down. There's nothing to give up, just stop abusing yourself. Just crush it under your heel and walk away. You're never going back to that. You're never going to lock yourself within that trap ever again. Would you voluntarily check yourself into prison for 10 - 20 years? No? I did! I fence fucking paroled, I'm never going back and I'll kill anyone who attempts to make me! I'm free and guess what? Once you're out, you've already succeeded. Celebrate! Be happy!

3. The Final Instruction: BE HAPPY YOU DID IT! Your success is insured! You're not going to fail and even if you do, you're no worse off than you are right now. Better that you fail with honor than succeed with fraud. There is absolutely no dishonor in failing. True failure only happens when YOU stop. Failure can only happen by YOU limiting YOURSELF and YOUR OWN INACTION!

Now, if you really put yourself into all of this and it fails. I'll stop writing. I'm serious. I'll never write another line for the world to read ever again. When this thing succeeds, I want all of you to know that I am not crazy and, even if you think I am, that's fine. Go ahead, could give a shit. I also have a right to not be offended.

For what it's worth, if you never try, then it is only YOU who have failed, not my advice.

Thank you, everyone and goodnight.

Episode 125: Genocyde Unleashed

2009-02-27T17:34:00.002-06:00

Many things have transpired recently.

The last weekend I was off, I was as sick as hell. I was barely breathing with an erratic pulse rate and feeling like I'd been eaten by a bear and pooped off a cliff. Every cigarette I lit was agony. The uber-flu had left me weak and infected...again. I did a lot of thinking during that weekend. At some points, I'd start wondering if I was even going to make it through my next sleep period. As you can imagine, I resisted sleep for fear of not waking. Not that I'm afraid of dying but the last thing in the world that I wanted was dying with the knowledge that I had done it to myself in larger part than not.

During my sickness, I remember feeling great when I worked out. I remember how everyone else was so happy with me when I'd quit smoking and just how miserable I'd been. At points, I'd be curled up on the bathroom floor, my jaw clenched, sweating, cursing God, the farmers and the scientists who made that evil weed so addictive. I was staring down the barrel of it all. I was facing the horrible truth about cigarettes yet again...I was STILL an addict. I was addicted to the one legal drug that kills hundreds of thousands per year. I was addicted to the one drug that is overlooked in the pantheon. I was addicted, seemingly hopelessly so, to a drug that is underrated in terms of lethality. It's drug addiction and it transcends all things. Even the workouts that I had enjoyed so much were becoming more taxing because of them.

I ripped Allen Carr's Audiobook The Easy Way To Stop Smoking to iTunes and put it on my iPhone, this time, in a concerted effort to get through it. I started noticing that the things were foul-tasting. I'd passively smoked and never noticed it. I thought I was enjoying them but I was only kidding myself. I was sick for the fourth time in the past year and I was not enjoying that in the least.

Through the following week, I smoked as I listened to the book in every spare moment that I could find an excuse to have. By the time the weekend at work had ended, I was like a rabid dog, waiting to break the leash and get on with my plans.

See, if it's one thing I hate, it's having to answer to someone for any reason unless it logically makes sense to me. For some reason, I didn't seem to have a problem being a total slave to some plant. I was letting it destroy me and I was paying through the nose for that very "privilege" and I use that term loosely.

Monday morning, I'd smoked my "final" cigarette. I was ready, I was sure of it. The day came and went. I went out to meet with a friend. I was having a great time. I was blessedly unaware of the withdrawal pangs that would hit me on occasion. They were so subtle, that I went through my day and night, feeling increasingly better. Unfortunately, a series of frustrations later that night had nearly driven me back but I stopped myself. While taking that friend back home, I found myself nodding off at the wheel. Okay, flu I can handle. Car accident as I'm on the verge of moving, no.

On the way back home, I'd stopped at a convenience store with the intention of only purchasing a soda as a means of staying awake. Instead, in my moment of weakness, I caved. Normally, I'd beat myself senseless for such a failure but this time, I made up my mind, no more self-pity parties and no more mental masochism. I smoked each one conciously, asking myself each time, "How's it taste, Mothafucka?" The answer that I offered, "Absolutely horrid."

My plan was revised, I would finish this pack and do away with them. Surprisingly, the pack lasted me through until noon on Wednesday. At Noon on Wednesday, February 27, 2009, I took myself off of that leash. I broke away from the trap and am pleased to report that I am a happy non-smoker. I don't use patches or gums. I don't use any replacements. I'm just done. It was much easier than I thought. I'm still suffering withdrawl but the pangs are so subtle that they can be withstood and they're not painful.

I breathe much better now, I don't wake up hacking and sputtering and I don't feel the "need" for a cigarette any more. Normally, I'd have one upon waking up and right before bed but now, that's a thing of the past.

Now, I'm going to be getting back into my workout. My self-defense studies are becoming more advanced, brutally so and I'll need all the oxygen that I can get.

"As their bodies mounted, his wrath proceeded by that of the sound of thunder, he razed their numbers as they counted for nothing. The skies were rent asunder and the earth lie shaken at the sound of the name as it was uttered. The winds raged and carried it to the nations so that it may fall on all ears. Verily, the earth did cry, 'Genocyde be thy name.'"

-Book of Armaments 30:97

Episode 124: For All Those Who Toil Relentlessly...

2009-02-16T17:44:00.002-06:00

I've had my share of stubborn pride. I've pushed and worked through some of the worst of the worst states I've ever had the displeasure of experiencing physically. I've watched as some just bowed out for awhile and then came back to work claiming that the stress was just getting to them. Many of my co-workers and even some close to me have told me that maybe the stress at work was getting to me.

Still, there was one position upon which, I stood adamant. I've always said that it was weakness on the part of those who took off due to stress while secretly harboring a bit of envy that they could simply take off for a month or so.

Today, at the doctor's office, I finally gave in and expressed how I needed some time off. If it was another thing I'd always said it was that little fact that, "Sure, I've got the time and I can afford the visits but there's no way I'd ever get it." I was right.

I could whine about how unfair it is but we all know the bottom line on that one. I've been as sick as a dog for the past few days. Did that make a difference? No. Has the fact that this year has been the year that my immune system decided that I didn't need it any more made one bit of difference? No. So, it's only quite natural that I'm just going to have to grin and bear it.

I've come to understand those that work and work and get nothing in return for it. I raise my water bottle to you all. It seems like, more and more, those of us that put in the work are only asked to put in more and more work only to rack up all that sick leave time but never touch it on pain of reprisal from the system that bestows it upon us.

It's sickening isn't it? We go on suffering our daily crosses and bearing them, most times, without complaint. When it's time for us to go into our respective corners for a bit of rest, our corner people aren't there. It's completely sickening.

I still see people who don't work, getting money and living better than I do. All the while, these people are not asked to submit urine tests for drug analysis but you and I have to submit them so that we can work for what little we actually get out of the deal. I see many of us who work hardly getting by at all while those who refuse to work get a living handed to them. I wonder whatever happened to those posters bearing the rhetoric that no one owes you a living? That's what it is, people, rhetoric. Only that, and nothing more.

Perhaps it's this very reason I'm disappointed in our new president. He's already going with a tactic that didn't work in the first place only to reprise that bit. Had each of us, the worker, the toiling taxpayer, had received a slice of that $700 Billion plus dollar pie, imagine what we could have done. The current unemployment rate would not have mattered at least for one year. Many of us would have had more than what we would have needed to put ourselves into business. The economy would have been more than stimulated...it would have been kickstarted the right way. Why won't it? Because it makes sense and politicians cannot line their pockets immediately.

I guess my fatigue is getting the better of me in this instance. It's no secret that I despise my job. It's no secret that I want out and I'm working on that.

Sometimes, like all of you who go through your own trials and tribulations, I wonder if this whole thing is just worth it. I ask the same questions you do. When will it end? When will I finally see the sum total of what I'm working for? When are the others going to get off their butts and hop to it?

I honestly don't think those questions will ever be answered. I'm sick and tired of being sick and tired.

I say we raise our glasses high tonight and lay ourselves down.

I say we start taking everything we deserve.

I say it's time the tables are turned.

Episode 123: Angels On One Shoulder, Devil In My Pocket

2009-02-15T13:06:00.002-06:00

This week has become hell for me. My spine and hip were out of whack again. So much was it out of whack that I went to the chiropractor to be cracked into shape on Wednesday. Why? Well, being out of whack activated a trigger point in my back that made agony legendary in Hell radiate into my right side when I twisted to my left or leaned forward to change my songs on my CD player in my truck. Needless to say...it hurt.

Wednesday night, as I'm getting over that, I notice this lethargic feeling overcoming me. Not only that but I'm popping Pepto tablets like crazy trying to keep from having to go hit the latrine every couple of hours. Use your imagination and do the math, I'm not telling. I had this tickle at the back of my throat, my chest hurt (smoooookiiiiiing, natch) and I started generally feeling like total crap. By Thursday morning, I figured I'd sleep it off and feel better. Well, I woke up Thursday evening and felt generally loaded down. It was like going to sleep naked and waking up wearing the Iron Man suit without the benefit of the servos to help you move the thing. Now, once I'm up and have dragged my behind out of bed, I'm okay. Thursday evening, I was in the bathroom and just could not get myself in gear. I figured I should go back to bed for another 20 minutes and I'd be fine but that didn't work. I slept til it was almost time for me to go. By the time I arrived at work (on time, no less...top that) I still felt like I'd been eaten by a bear and pooped off a cliff. I hung in there until roughly 10:30 p.m. I went home.

In doing this, I called Misty and spoke with her. Once done with that, I did something unprecedented...I went to sleep and slept clean through the night. On a side note, I went from smoking a pack a day to making one pack last 36 hours. I'm doing goooooooooooood. Friday morning I called my doctor only to find out, much to my dismay, that Monday Morning at 10:45 a.m. is the earliest I can be seen. Oh, great. After checking around, I've found that this nice little uberflu has been running riot since Christmas and then went into overdrive over the past couple of weeks. Normally, I'm not succeptable to flus so much as I am upper respiratory infections. The bad part is that I think I know where I got it. See, almost two weeks ago, I spent a lot of time doing hospital transport. Again, do the math.

So right now, I'm friggin' miserable. Great.

So what's been happening? Well, I've been using my iPhone to listen to Allen Carr's book The Easy Way To Stop Smoking. Yes, I'm going to make another attempt to slay that dragon once and for all. Allen's humorous and educated approach is nothing less than encouraging and motivational. If you are one who smokes and wants to quit, hit your library up and get this book or get it on CD. I've also been rediscovering some of my old tapes. Look, I spent $50 going retro, I'm gonna use it. I've also been wearing my glasses a lot more than my contacts. Truth is, with the Transitions lenses, these things have allowed me to do something I haven't been able to do in ten years...see daylight in living color without pain or irritation. Even when they don't darken, I can still see as you do and I don't have one single problem. It's worth foregoing contacts for the time being.

What's been going on with the show? Well, I could tell you but I'm going to stop at only this; we're recording for podcasts, I'm still listening to CDs for review and these podcasts will be available for release soon. How soon? Well I don't have a release date for the podcasts yet but soon...just keep an eye open. Live broadcasts won't begin until I'm moved to New Jersey and settled in. Once that happens, then I'll start broadcasting live again.

One more thing, an old friend of mine has been emailing me at my gmail address. I'd email you back but it only reaches you if you're on...whenever you're not signed on, I get my email kicked back.

Episode 122: Paranoia

2009-02-11T08:59:00.002-06:00

Let me fill you in on a little something. If you want to join PrisonPlanet.tv, by all means, I suggest it. Go look at all the information there and share it with others. It's Alex Jones' site and it's a really good site with plenty of video (downloadable, no less) audio and news. On top of that you can listen to his show via the web or even your phone. I listen through my iPhone most of the time. Then again from the previous entry you probably caught that.

If you're thinking about joining the discussion forum...let it go. I was there and recently bore witness to the biggest spiritual pissing contest I have ever seen in my life. Christians have non-Christians pegged as types who are disinformation agents for the New World Order and non-Christians are more frightened of the Christians than they are of those in positions of power that want them dead or enslaved.

Okay, I'm of the mind that there are people in positions of power that use us like cattle and would like to see about 80% pass on while the remaining 20% just serve them like a buncha good little monkeys. Anyone who agrees that there is something wrong and agrees that something needs to be done (like imposition of more oversight by the citizenry) is fine by me. I'm a Christian of about two years and I'm still discovering more and more about my faith by the day. It's no prerequisite of mine that you believe in what I believe to stand against traitors and those who would commit the act of treason against our constitution. My only prerequisite is that you keep an open mind. It's fine to question and make observations. Hell, that's something that's needed but a spiritual pissing contest is not.

I'd kindly pointed out that there's an old war tactic known as "Divide and Conquer." This tactic makes perfect sense when you need to end the whole mess. You simply get the people divided and blaming each other and then you move in for the endgame. The endgame usually doesn't take long. Once those people realize that the game is up, it's too late...they're pretty well fucked.

Needless to say, it did nothing to abate the bullshit. The bullshit floweth over in that instance. I figured I'd just ignore it until I began getting attacked myself.

My mistake was that thinking I had found a solid group of people who wanted to take their country back. No, they're just as divided. Sadly, this is where our country's headed.

If I'm right, over half of us will end up dead and the rest will end up microchipped and shoved away into some microcity somewhere. Families will be divided and the tyrants in government, finance and world politics will have their agenda completed. We will end up falling in line.

I still remember on September 11, 2001. I'd heard about children crying to their parents that the world was going to be blown up. I can't say that the concerns of those children weren't legitimate. I don't remember anyone being black, white, asian, mexican, christian, jewish, satanist, pagan or otherwise. That day, we were all Americans with one sentiment. As horrible as that day was, I would like to think it was also our best day. In the week that followed, I remember seeing the best of us step forward to help with the cleanups, rescues and comforting of those who needed it. Now, I see we have degenerated. We've been staring in the face of a new 9/11 for about two years since those in government stated that they felt another one coming. With that will come more legislation and our freedoms taking a backseat...if not the goddamn trunk. We'll probably see martial law all over. We'll probably see America get locked down and guns confiscated. Basically, we're going to have our asses handed to us.

Chances are, we probably deserve it. See, we need to rise up and take back our freedoms. We need to send a clear and intelligent message to our government that we're not going to give any more than what we have and we're taking that which we've given back. We don't deserve those freedoms, though. We've used them to get the wrong kind of legislation passed. We've used them to impose upon each other. Honestly, we deserve those FEMA camps that are now popping up in the news that we were told did not exist. We deserve the more losses. We deserve the government we've ended up with because of our lack of participation. We wanted security so badly, now, here it comes; one side of it's face, a kiss and the other, genocide.

We deserve all this, mostly, because of our paranoia first and our apathy next.

The Stories That Made America And The Stories America Made Up

2009-02-05T21:06:00.002-06:00

Check This Out When You Get Time. It's a thirty minute long video of former actor Robert Wuhl teaching a history class and the most valuable lesson that's in it is priceless. I laughed 'til I couldn't breathe.