Saturday, December 20, 2008

... be a real hero.

I was reading the paper the other day, and before you make any fucking assumptions, I get both the "Rag Sheet" and the "Boring Broadsheet," so don't label me one way or the other, but that's another blog. And Howie can kiss my ass, cause he's all like the Globe sucks, but you never hear that the Herald has less of a circulation and a 5th grade reading level, but he has a point that no Globe reporter has had the balls to challenge him to a cage match. Anyway, Howie thinks all public servants are on the take, but nobody talks about his pay rate, and what he contributes to society (another blog). I digress again.
So the list comes out for what the pay rate for these Red Sox players get. I get pissed off.  I like sports, but I believe these guys don't know how fucking lucky they have it. I also believe they snowed a whole shitload of people. They play a game for a living. They get paid to work out, and, with some exceptions, they live the spring in a warm climate and play through the fall. They get performance bonuses, and have the winter off, most living somewhere warm. If they win a series, they get more money and admiration. It took like 50 fucking years for people to realize that the guys in WWII were the greatest generation ... just ask Hank. People have just accepted over 30 years later if you got shot in the ass in Viet Nam, you were deserving of recognition. Firefighters fight for a cost of living raise every fucking year, and I have yet to see a ticker tape parade for them. Sure, a firefighter gets killed, and they give a great send off.... too late. And look at the poor asshole firefighter from Lancaster who died and the town didn't want to give his wife survivor benefits ... wait, Darryl Strawberry just wrote a book, he was arrested and did drugs ... boo hoo. $26.99 list price, visa and mastercard accepted, but he just wants people to understand him ... He might have even beaten a wife or two ... I'm not sure about that assumption, but stuff like that is usually based in truth. Maybe he'll try to sue me and get more press. Anyway, I have a really intelligent friend who works in an afterschool program with kids ... educating. I tell him my feelings and he starts to defend the boys of summer. Blah blah blah, they have talent. Yeah, don't talk about molding the youth of America, or pulling someone out of a fire, or saving a heart attack victim. Then he starts talking about supply and demand. I remind him that when there was a baseball strike, people got used to it and found different shit to do. And that teachers, cops, and firefighters can't strike by law.
I don't think "sports" and "hero" belong in the same sentence. Oddly enough you don't usually hear "sports hero" in the context with a Olympian, usually only a "professional" sports figure . And you know what, anybody from any fucking country who has qualified for the Olympics is higher in my book. They had to put in their whole heart to get there. Not just get there, get a good manager and then work the contract ... I'm mad, I'm not showing up at spring training, go ahead, try to make me cut my hair..."oh that's just Manny being Manny." Any other dumb fuck that tried that with a boss would find his ass out on the street. Bite a guys ear off, rape a girl, cheat on your wife with Madonna ... whatever.
My kids' teacher tutors during the summer, buys supplies with her own money, spends time off the clock adding to curriculum, and listens to every "guess what I did over vacation," "look my tooth fell out," and "my dog had puppies story" like it was the first time it happened in history.  That's a hero.
A good friend once coined the term with humor that a firefighter was the "Greatest American Contemporary folk hero." He of course used it sometimes with a sly grin, but like Darryl beating a wife or two, it has a ring of truth. In general most firefighters will give a tour to some kids, hand over a helmet for them to look at, blow the air horn, and wave. They raise money for charities, suffer injuries from helping others, and raise money, awareness, or give of themselves to help a fellow firefighter or their family. So ... I hope Manny, Barry Bonds and A-Rod open up their wallets and buy poor Darryl's book ... help a brother out, would ya?
Oh and don't read to much on that either ... if you are in a union, you are a brother, or a sister, or a band of brothers in the military... 

Friday, December 12, 2008

..not order coffee at Dunkin Donuts

The following really happened to me...the other day. This is the stuff of sitcoms set in New York City.

I was stopping by Dunkies on the way home, to get my mom a beverage, as she had been watching my kids. I can see there are only a couple people inside, and a spot out front, so I decide to go in, rather than use the drive thru, because those little metal boxes piss me off in general, especially when the person inside has a thick accent, which accentuates the whole communication problem. I actually got pies instead of fries at a McDonalds once.
Anyway, I am standing behind the sole customer in the store, a young woman, when her friend who had been sitting down, stands up and exclaims, "Wait, I decided I want a coffee after all."
She turns to the clerk ... yes he is a clerk not a barrista -  that shit's for Starbucks and other snooty places, and says, "I'll have an medium iced, french vanilla, in a hot cup, with 5 melted sugars, caramel, and a shot of turbo." I'm pretty sure the clerk had a stroke after she said 5 melted sugars, because I watched his head tilt dramatically to one side and his eyes became wide, and a little drool might have even slipped out.
How do you know I am not making this up? Because I wrote it down on a receipt I had in my pocket, in case the police wanted evidence to what happened to the poor clerk. He slurred his response, but I believe it translated into, "Say that again? " And I wrote it down  as she repeated it, so it's pretty fucking accurate. Enough to get her on voluntary manslaughter anyway. So, by this time, there is a line of 4 people behind me. The first guy is some old dude, who you know just wants a small black, because that's the way he's been drinking it since WWII. I turned and looked at him and I wasn't sure if he was more amazed at her order, or what she was wearing. She had one of those puffy bright white vests, the kind you can only wear once and then have to throw away, because the dust in the air makes it dingy, jeans with that bullshit embroidery on the back pockets. Leather boots that keep making her ankles kick out like a kid's first outing on ice skates, those glamour glasses and the (fake?) designer bag. Anyway, the guy behind him looks like the guy that desperatly still wants to buy a cruller, but has to settle for that crappy cruller replacement, a glazed stick . And the chick either with him, or behind him, I'm pretty sure wants a decaf with equal. So we're trying to figure out if we should just walk away now, or if we're going to get in trouble for leaving the scene of a crime. That poor schmuck of a clerk tries his best. He comes the first time holding a coffee in a cup and a cold cup with ice in it in the other hand. I know something else is wrong, but I can't figure it out. She turns him away. Then he comes back again and had put something in like hazelnut or some shit, and she says, "No, I didn't want that." Finally he comes back the last time, still with 2 cups, the cold one with ice in it only, and she says, "Okay, I'll take it, I guess you tried your best."
I step up and the clerk kid purses his lips and blows out the 5 liters of air he's been holding in, when I order 2 regular decafs and a muffin. He still doesn't say anything, so I'm pretty sure the stroke affected the area of his brain that handles speech, not motor function.

                         

Thursday, December 11, 2008

...not block an intersection.

I especially love the people that block you from being able to go, then stare straight ahead like your on a different asteral plane and not really there. We're all human, people. If you made the mistake and blocked the road say," sorry". Then don't do it next time. Learn from it. You expect your kids to learn shit.

There are several degrees of intersection blocking:

Involuntary: you pulled up over the line so the asshole behind you wouldn't hit you in the rear 'cause he wasn't paying attention. This person usually tries to let you squeeze by, and might even back up.

Second degree: Your paying too much attention to your illegally used iPod, magazine, or poor judgement using your cell phone, GPS, or McSandwich. This causes you to make me late, but also makes me will you to drop your electronics in a puddle, or spill your food on your lap.

First Degree: This is the "I am more important than you, I can't see you" dickhead. This person follows the last car at the yellow light trying to squeeze through, or doesn't let a person pull into line from a side street, even though they are pulling up to a red light. Like pulling into the intersection is going to get you there any faster. It's called gridlock, asshole. All you've accomplished is the potential of someone getting road rage, and most people in line not giving a shit if you get beaten. It's a major domino effect. You have just caused a number of people to be late besides you and have added to the problem. People would stand in line to vote in overpaid cop details if they would just drop a ticket on these people. 

First Degree with no remorse: This is the worst ever. Those who believe in hell feel there is a  special place for these people where they wait thousand of years to get to the front of a parking lot line only to be told, "Sorry, we just filled the last spot."
This mega asshole, is the person who tries to create a second or extra lane in a road. I've even seen them go part up on curbs. They are the person who travels in the breakdown lane, or even where it is allowed, past that point. How does this block traffic? Somewhere up ahead there is still a red light or blockage dick! What goes through these peoples minds? "Hey look at all these jerks sitting stopped here, there must be 100 people having strokes all at once. I guess I am lucky I was not afflicted. I better just swing around all these people." (see my blog on blocking emergency vehicles for some of the same rant)

So here's How to Fucking ... Not Block an Intersection, and make the world a better place. 

Step 1: Look to see if you are coming up to a yellow light and be ready to stop before the line
Step 2: Pay attention to what's around you, including the cross streets.
Step 3: If the light is red as you are approaching, let one person trying to merge in. I call it the zipper effect.
Step 4: It is physically impossible to make a 2 ton hunk of metal shrink on command. Stop making another lane. 

In every area there is one of these spots where people ride down the lane past a bunch of other people that are waiting to go, and try to squeeze in at the front of the line

In our area it is Route 2 at Alewife ... You locals know it!

I think it would be awesome if people had little signs in their car that said, "Nice try fucker, I ain't letting you in!"