Magazine remorse

Hey all -

This is a bit embarrassing for me to write. But I found out that sometimes, I can be quite a sucka. So it was a normal Friday night, let the kids tear it up late, drink a few whiskeys night. So this set the stage for the guy who looks like he's a recovering crack addict, ringing the doorbell selling magazines. And my usual impulse is to quickly dismiss these peddlers, but this time, it was almost a welcome distraction from the kids "wii-fest". So the guy comes in and tells a sob story about his kids living in a neighborhood where gang recruiting is prevalent around 10-yrs of age. And it is a sad story, no doubt. So I figure, what could the damage possibly be? I order a few useless rags for bathroom reading, and scrawl out a check. The next morning, I realize the check was for $300. Let this be a lesson that checkbooks and credit cards should be well guarded when the whiskey is flowing. Needless to say, i called and cancelled Monday morning, and put a stop payment on the check... just in case. It's one thing to hand some cash to a panhandler knowing it's going to the dealer or kwik-e-mart for some mad dog. It's quite another to hand it to a mock-charitable organization pimping tragedy to sell useless magazines. So slap some sense into yourself before you get suckered in. If you want a magazine subscription, go to a dentist's office. Then fill out the change of address card, changing it to that neighbor that has no use for the publication. Then run into the neighbor when they are checking the mail and express an interest in the rag. That neighbor will give you every copy. I once got a year of Maxim without buying a single issue. Rock out.

Girls soccer or dogfighting?

Hey y'all,

I want to talk to y'all about a recent experience at a 7 year old girls soccer game. I found myself next to a man, who looked like a relative of the Texas Chainsaw massacre family, smoking a pack of cigarettes in his fold-out chair. Before the game began, the first words out of this bastard's mouth, were "Are you ready for a whompin'?" As if that were not bad enough, the jerk proceeded to cheer his team by yelling things like "Kick it at number 2's head!", "Take her out!" and a lot more idiotic commands. Luckily, it seemed most of the time, the girls on the field did not hear this dipshit. I think he was disappointed he had a girl instead of a pit bull.

Rock out.

Paperwork

Hi y'all,
It's been a while. Today I want to talk about something that's not so near and dear but actually a bit of a pain in the ass. Paperwork. We all hate filing taxes. We all hate filling out insurance forms and loan applications. Paperwork sucks. It's time-consuming and boring. I've found that not all companies and organisations are equal in this regard. Here are what the better ones are doing to make this a less painful experience:
1) On-line forms. This will save time and effort in entering, storing, retrieving and above all copying since a lot of times, you just want to renew or adjust something not re-apply for it.
2) Telephone service - with a person. Isn't it nice when the company has a person that can actually copy/paste information for you?
3) On-line statements/other information - saving some trees is always good.
4) Minimizing the information needed. Why do you need my 3rd grade teacher's name to apply for a $1000 certificate of deposit? And for God's sake stop asking my ethnicity when I apply for this crap. None of your fricking business.
5) Perform basic services without requiring a form at all. Ahh... how I love debit cards. Paypal is handy as well.

Worst offenders on the paperwork front: Local/state/federal governments, doctors/dentists, schools, and mortgage companies.

Bluetooth guy

Alright, call me a dinosaur. I don't want to be bluetooth guy. You know, that asshole that looks like he's talking to an invisible person, while sitting at the table next to you in a peaceful restaurant. And the worst part about this pompous bastard is that he's gesturing madly, and his only audience is the uninterested patrons that were unlucky enough to be there when he made his table selection. And the poor waitresses that have to deal with these jerk-offs who think their little business call is an excuse to not deal with the real physical world around them. I say make them pay up front if they have one of those I-am-the-borg headsets on their when they come in. Rock out.

Bad news is not always bad

As a friend of mine, a shipping clerk name Maurice, used to say, "You gotta clean your own mess... and some that ain't yours, too." This is simple advice akin to what you'd read in "All I Really Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten" by Robert Fulgham. It's like politicians. They inherit the problems from the guy in office before them. And anyone in any job really. Maurice shared a story of an incident that occured at the factory he works at. He was helping the plant manager expedite a shipment of product to an important client. He loaded the pallet in the front of the shipping lane leading to the dock in order to ensure that the lane didn't become blocked with normal loading/unloading. In other words, he planned ahead. He stepped into the breakroom for a second, to get a Twix to keep his blood sugar up, and when he stepped out, to his horror, he observed Raul, the fork truck drive proceed to plow over the pallet in his souped-up electric fork truck. Needless to say, the product was destroyed. Now Maurice could have walked away, hoped Raul would work it out with a supervisor and continued about his business. But instead, he cleaned up the mess. He reported Raul to the shift supervisor for reckless forktrucking, and called the program manager on the account to let her know that the product had been damaged. Conveying bad news is usually the toughest part of any job. The program manager was so impressed with Maurice's courage that she took him out to lunch. So before you shirk that necessary but unpleasant encounter at work, think of Maurice and be strong. Rock out.

Scraped knees

Alright, I'm not gonna lie. I've probably had a higher than average amount of minor injuries. Scraped knees, cut fingers, bruises and the like. Not a lot of major ones. And dammit, ya know I never wore a seat belt as a kid. Never even heard of bicycle "helmets" or "knee pads" when skateboarding. Our overprotective whiny-assed culture has marketed this crap to parents with the fear that junior might (gasp) get a "boo-boo". Suck it up, dammit. The fear culture has expanded with widespread media coverage of "missing children". Now we are being told to put leashes on them at the supermarket and implant chips in them so we can track them. Give the paranoia a rest. MOST kids that "disappear" are killed and disposed of by their caregiver. Oh, I get it, so if you are not the sole caregiver, shove a nanny-cam up the kid's teddybear's ass and see if she's putting out cigarettes on junior's forehead. Got find another use for those bluetooth webcams whose resolution is too crappy for internet chat. Marketing geniuses. Rock out.

The recession is not working

The recession is not doing its job. Now what, you may ask, is the job of a recession? Is it some Darwinian device in a market economy to kill off weak companies and products? Maybe... but that's not what I'm talking about. The job of which I speak is that of PARENT. Huh??? You crazy, Rock, you might say. But I'm serious. Kids these days are feeling ENTITLED to everything from video games, designer clothes, cell phones, you name it. No need to get off their lazy butts and achieve anything. And these busy parents are off buying this stuff. But what will these kids do when the gravy train is gone? Daddy wouldn't take the party funds away, but the wreakonomy will! Mommy wouldn't cut off the cell phone minutes, but uncle Rex-cession will!