It seems to me that the only reason that the Fourth of July exists anymore is so that a certain sect of the populace has something to waste money on other than UFC Pay-Per-View events. Funny, considering how hard I can imagine it must be to round up shopping carts in the WalMart parking lot when you're shy a few fingers on your left hand - not to mention open a Red Bull or beer.
Now, I wouldn't be so harsh on the holiday, but how many people actually pause to reflect on the importance of Independence Day? Do you honestly think that while some hooting hillbilly wearing a wifebeater and a Tap-Out hat that uses his cigarette lighter to ignite a $15 incendiary device that will no doubt bewilder and leave his admiring crowd of 20 people and 41 teeth gives half a shit how we arrived at his point in history? Yeah, I don't think so either. Chances are that this group, complete with 14 kids that just took a break from eating dirt to plunge their grimy fists elbow deep into a bag of Cheetos that EBT bought, are simply thinking of how Godamned neat it is that they have enough firepower to keep the neighbors up until 3 am.
As you can probably tell, there are people that are enthusiastic about this particular day of the year that live next to us. I would hazard to guess that there were probably several people that woke up at 10 this morning curled up in the back of a late 70's Chevy pickup covered in their own piss and smelling like a port-a-potty at an outdoor music festival. After the mix of sulfur, cigarette smoke, and vomit smell settles, they'll probably flop onto a couch and try to build up the reserves for another final round tonight (since I'm willing to guess they don't have jobs to go to for the most part).
And that is where I arrive at my point in this post. Its great that we have the ability to do that in this country, isn't it? Its not my thing, but it may be a huge part of their self preservation.
Although, I do wish that my animals were better equipped to deal with it.
Thursday, July 5, 2012
Wednesday, March 14, 2012
We'll leave the lice on for ya - a Bellingham Traveler's Guide
I was having lunch at On Rice on Samish Way today, otherwise known as Bellingham's own "Boulevard des Reves" and was looking at the sights out the window. Granted it WAS lunchtime, so it was more or less just a sampling of the overall feel and culture of this unique district.
First, an overview for people who haven't seen it lately- imagine 10 hotels packed to the closets with drunks, meth heads, ambitious wannabe hookers, and assorted other riff raff that is legally unable to get within 500 feet of a school. MOST of them are thankfully out of view, presumably sleeping, snorting, blowing, or screwing their way through their day. Readerboard signs are everywhere advertising the lodging's many amenities - such as HB, indor poo, nternt, and various other things in broken English and Drunkanese. Those of us that wish to stay in a hotel are aware of the basics, which means I expect indoor plumbing and not to wake up with a burning itch. No dilapidated sign necessary.
The beauty of a diverse cultural cesspool like this is that you can't tell the staff at these places from the inmat-..er..residen...um people that have to check in with the sheriff when they relocate. Like most of the population here in Bellingham, they usually have breath that smells like they've been trimming a corpse's toenails with their teeth, and complete ignorance in regards to deodorant and its purposes. Bellingham is a nice place if you know where to go, like to Seattle - bypass this dump and go somewhere that IS entertaining.
This will continue...
First, an overview for people who haven't seen it lately- imagine 10 hotels packed to the closets with drunks, meth heads, ambitious wannabe hookers, and assorted other riff raff that is legally unable to get within 500 feet of a school. MOST of them are thankfully out of view, presumably sleeping, snorting, blowing, or screwing their way through their day. Readerboard signs are everywhere advertising the lodging's many amenities - such as HB, indor poo, nternt, and various other things in broken English and Drunkanese. Those of us that wish to stay in a hotel are aware of the basics, which means I expect indoor plumbing and not to wake up with a burning itch. No dilapidated sign necessary.
The beauty of a diverse cultural cesspool like this is that you can't tell the staff at these places from the inmat-..er..residen...um people that have to check in with the sheriff when they relocate. Like most of the population here in Bellingham, they usually have breath that smells like they've been trimming a corpse's toenails with their teeth, and complete ignorance in regards to deodorant and its purposes. Bellingham is a nice place if you know where to go, like to Seattle - bypass this dump and go somewhere that IS entertaining.
This will continue...
Monday, March 5, 2012
You're not like the other ones, you're much dumber.
I have never had the internet at home, so that's a piece of instant gratification I've had to do without. However, something I found amusing was that I got an email from facebook after a few days of absence that I had some notifications pending. So, thinking that I might have missed some flagged high priority message about someone's accidental passing, I headed over to facebook only to be let down in realizing that I had missed out on 3 full days of people that needed prayers for trivial issues, and people I've known my whole life broadcasting the contents of their Sunday dinner and the scores of their kid's basketball games. Jeezis is life passing me by; how in the hell did I make it surviving in this big scary world for 3 days without a clue that my friend from 20 years ago had lasagna this weekend?
I guess the problem for me is that I honestly hate stereotypes. If a person has to state how different they are, there's a damn good chance that they are the same as every other chucklehead that's ever announced without fear of contradiction that "they're different".
The role that facebook plays in this is an interesting one. People are represented by a picture of their choice - more than likely a happy memory, or something they feel represents them. On the site people give a selective history of their day and put it up on display, fishing for compliments or approval from a group of their peers. How fucked up and weird is that? Has anyone actually thought of that? To put it into perspective, think of it like this - a room full of everyone you have selected to be there, and in this room, everyone wears a mask and parades around with an aquarium filled with the things they want you to comment on while trying to cover up the dogshite on their shoes that they slipped in on their way into the room, or the fact that they have a drug problem, or are clinically depressed. That is, unless they WANT your attention and prayers for dogshite removal and drug absolution.
THAT's where facebook really loses me. Pages of 8 year old kids tugging at your sleeve jumping up and down, shouting "Look at me! Look at me!" "I'm different! I'm cool!", or "I have an interesting medical condition, please pray!" With the world population rapidly approaching 7 billion, I'm willing to guess that a couple of them are pretty much like you actually, and the chances of them being more intelligent are higher still.
I am not above this myself, its part of human nature to want to gain acceptance, and it is without question that we need a sense of connection or love (as well as hate) towards each other. But for Christ's sake, get over yourself. If you don't want to be a stereotype, don't do stupid fucking stereotypical things.
I won't pray for you, and I don't give a shit what you're having for dinner. Be yourself, be politically incorrect.
Til next time.
I guess the problem for me is that I honestly hate stereotypes. If a person has to state how different they are, there's a damn good chance that they are the same as every other chucklehead that's ever announced without fear of contradiction that "they're different".
The role that facebook plays in this is an interesting one. People are represented by a picture of their choice - more than likely a happy memory, or something they feel represents them. On the site people give a selective history of their day and put it up on display, fishing for compliments or approval from a group of their peers. How fucked up and weird is that? Has anyone actually thought of that? To put it into perspective, think of it like this - a room full of everyone you have selected to be there, and in this room, everyone wears a mask and parades around with an aquarium filled with the things they want you to comment on while trying to cover up the dogshite on their shoes that they slipped in on their way into the room, or the fact that they have a drug problem, or are clinically depressed. That is, unless they WANT your attention and prayers for dogshite removal and drug absolution.
THAT's where facebook really loses me. Pages of 8 year old kids tugging at your sleeve jumping up and down, shouting "Look at me! Look at me!" "I'm different! I'm cool!", or "I have an interesting medical condition, please pray!" With the world population rapidly approaching 7 billion, I'm willing to guess that a couple of them are pretty much like you actually, and the chances of them being more intelligent are higher still.
I am not above this myself, its part of human nature to want to gain acceptance, and it is without question that we need a sense of connection or love (as well as hate) towards each other. But for Christ's sake, get over yourself. If you don't want to be a stereotype, don't do stupid fucking stereotypical things.
I won't pray for you, and I don't give a shit what you're having for dinner. Be yourself, be politically incorrect.
Til next time.
Friday, February 17, 2012
Election is kind of limp
Oh boy, look who we have for presidential candidates - Romney, a moderate who flip flops more than an epileptic mudskipper, Ron Paul, a weird old man who has the right ideas on most domestic policies but whose foreign ones seem like the onset of dementia, Gingrich - an angry ass named after a large amphibian who resembles Granny from the Tweety cartoons, and Santorum, who I like but who stands as much a chance of making it as a donut in Oprah's office.
There is no way Romney can go up against Obama with his basically same healthcare plan. That, combined with the fact that even to Republicans the guy looks like a rich prick. Ron Paul would never make it because Libertarians expect people to be responsible and accountable, and the rest of America expects free iPads and Starbucks gift cards. Gingrich would just never make it because Palin's mouth on the living Pillsbury Dough Boy just sucks no matter who you are. Santorum will not win because he has no Latino, African American, gay, or Women's League of Voters votes (whoever wins needs only those in combination with regular old Democrat votes - independents will not determine the outcome).
The main problem here is one that the voters have brought on themselves. We let the government get huge and raised two generations on the entitlement ticket. This stems from the fact that the populace fails to understand the difference between rights and privileges, and we have rewarded this lack of understanding for long enough that a massive number of people in this country have only ever known the something-for-nothing way of living. The number of foxes or chickens that we elect to decide how we should be fed keeps expanding and at this point, I believe it is impossible to reverse the direction this country is going in. The long and the short of it is that it doesn't ultimately matter who is president MOST of the time - governments always end up abusing their power no matter the name of its policies. As far as I'm concerned, there are 500+ people in DC that should be out of a job.
Look at the healthcare plan, because I wish someone would - What is it? The people responsible for strong-arming through without letting the people vote on it can't even tell us anything other that they want their states excluded from it. Look out in 2014 - I hope the Mayans are right about 2012 because doomsday would be a hell of a lot cheaper than 4 more years of democratic control over the whole country.
There is no way Romney can go up against Obama with his basically same healthcare plan. That, combined with the fact that even to Republicans the guy looks like a rich prick. Ron Paul would never make it because Libertarians expect people to be responsible and accountable, and the rest of America expects free iPads and Starbucks gift cards. Gingrich would just never make it because Palin's mouth on the living Pillsbury Dough Boy just sucks no matter who you are. Santorum will not win because he has no Latino, African American, gay, or Women's League of Voters votes (whoever wins needs only those in combination with regular old Democrat votes - independents will not determine the outcome).
The main problem here is one that the voters have brought on themselves. We let the government get huge and raised two generations on the entitlement ticket. This stems from the fact that the populace fails to understand the difference between rights and privileges, and we have rewarded this lack of understanding for long enough that a massive number of people in this country have only ever known the something-for-nothing way of living. The number of foxes or chickens that we elect to decide how we should be fed keeps expanding and at this point, I believe it is impossible to reverse the direction this country is going in. The long and the short of it is that it doesn't ultimately matter who is president MOST of the time - governments always end up abusing their power no matter the name of its policies. As far as I'm concerned, there are 500+ people in DC that should be out of a job.
Look at the healthcare plan, because I wish someone would - What is it? The people responsible for strong-arming through without letting the people vote on it can't even tell us anything other that they want their states excluded from it. Look out in 2014 - I hope the Mayans are right about 2012 because doomsday would be a hell of a lot cheaper than 4 more years of democratic control over the whole country.
Thursday, February 2, 2012
Self-Esteeming Pile.
So I was having lunch at one of my favorite local restaurants here, and had to laugh at something I overheard- well, not overheard as it was the only thing I could hear in the restaurant. It was the usual sight - some airbrushed tart opening her mouth and letting really stupid, pretentious things fall out of it in the direction of some poor hapless Hollister disciple that was obviously less concerned with lunch than his presumed repayment of meal debt afterward. Upon closer inspection (from across the restaurant) there was the glassy, preoccupied stare reserved for instances where someone is given unwanted criticism from a dipshit being cast her way while she mindlessly yapped and pushed some rice around her plate.
The whole time I watched in admiration as the pair of them followed a lunchtime drill with military precision. I don't usually take notice of these things, but this time, maybe feeling a little more romantic about it than usual, all I could think of was, "just think, pal; You wouldn't have to pay for lunch or listen to a dirty magazine."
You see, the whole reason I even noticed them was a high pitched "I'm like, really shy around people" come from their direction. After that, she made every possible effort to prove herself a liar, and she did. This abhorrent harpy proceeded to with great vigor proclaim how different she is without realizing that by her actions she was proving beyond a doubt how stereotypical she is. Very similar to emo kids being all antisocial while standing in a group or having the same non-conformist conformity.
This doesn't mean I'm entirely sympathetic with him, though (not that I don't give him a pat on the back for jumping on that grenade for some other poor bastard). After all, he was by all appearance, a douchebag. He had the flipped up collar in white with an oversized hat he was unable to straighten, keys on a lanyard, iPhone, etc. (Don't people wonder why those stores are dark with music so loud they cause a person's heart to go into arrhythmia? Just grab something and stuff it in a bag - trust us, everybody's wearing them) . I believe that people shouldn't be judged on appearance ordinarily, but in the strange case of douchebaggis majoris you can actually tell everything about them by what they wear. He didn't need to say anything, not that he could get a word in anyway. Just plain foolishness.
Til next time.
The whole time I watched in admiration as the pair of them followed a lunchtime drill with military precision. I don't usually take notice of these things, but this time, maybe feeling a little more romantic about it than usual, all I could think of was, "just think, pal; You wouldn't have to pay for lunch or listen to a dirty magazine."
You see, the whole reason I even noticed them was a high pitched "I'm like, really shy around people" come from their direction. After that, she made every possible effort to prove herself a liar, and she did. This abhorrent harpy proceeded to with great vigor proclaim how different she is without realizing that by her actions she was proving beyond a doubt how stereotypical she is. Very similar to emo kids being all antisocial while standing in a group or having the same non-conformist conformity.
This doesn't mean I'm entirely sympathetic with him, though (not that I don't give him a pat on the back for jumping on that grenade for some other poor bastard). After all, he was by all appearance, a douchebag. He had the flipped up collar in white with an oversized hat he was unable to straighten, keys on a lanyard, iPhone, etc. (Don't people wonder why those stores are dark with music so loud they cause a person's heart to go into arrhythmia? Just grab something and stuff it in a bag - trust us, everybody's wearing them) . I believe that people shouldn't be judged on appearance ordinarily, but in the strange case of douchebaggis majoris you can actually tell everything about them by what they wear. He didn't need to say anything, not that he could get a word in anyway. Just plain foolishness.
Til next time.
Wednesday, February 1, 2012
Body Art?
This is a topic that I find irritates me consistently. I finally decided to launch my official complaint here and now since Van Halen has returned with Diamond Dave and released a song and video that looks more like an obnoxious Super Bowl commercial for a seniors only strip club.
Honestly, what do all these people see in having a "piece" or a "sleeve" done on themselves? When all of them are sitting around with their grandchildren and the kids are confused because they get yelled at and/or bathed for drawing on themselves with pens, what is their answer going to be? At least the kid drawing on himself is honestly expressing a feeling at the time. I find it hard to believe that some methed up Airstream dweller is expressing herself with a rose on her tit - although I suppose it could be if at middle age she feels represented by a long stem, lifeless, wilted flower. Not only them, but the toothless, drunken men they shack up with usually have some sort of stupid tribal tattoo that is tribal only in reference. My first thought when I see a shaved head and with an idiot hanging off it is "wonder what tribe he's from?" Only recently have I realized that it IS indeed a tribe. The tribe of the my-truck-is-worth-more-than-my-trailer-and-my-wife-weighs-more-than-both-and-all-of-them-have-Calvin-pissing-on-something-somewhere-on-them tribe. Then it dawned on me - instead of peace pipes and ceremonial gatherings, they have Monster energy drinks and Pay-Per-View. They really are tribal after all.
The argument from the land of food stamps is of course that they are expressing themselves. I find it sad when I see a really beautiful girl with a bull ring in her nose or a hole in her face that shouldn't be there, accompanied by arms that look like comic book vomit. Apparently some people find this crap attractive, so there must be a certain variety of person that jerks their gherkin to hardware catalogs and graphic novels.
Again, this is only my opinion, if people want to age looking like they have a skin condition, that's their thing I guess. I just don't get it.
Til next time.
Honestly, what do all these people see in having a "piece" or a "sleeve" done on themselves? When all of them are sitting around with their grandchildren and the kids are confused because they get yelled at and/or bathed for drawing on themselves with pens, what is their answer going to be? At least the kid drawing on himself is honestly expressing a feeling at the time. I find it hard to believe that some methed up Airstream dweller is expressing herself with a rose on her tit - although I suppose it could be if at middle age she feels represented by a long stem, lifeless, wilted flower. Not only them, but the toothless, drunken men they shack up with usually have some sort of stupid tribal tattoo that is tribal only in reference. My first thought when I see a shaved head and with an idiot hanging off it is "wonder what tribe he's from?" Only recently have I realized that it IS indeed a tribe. The tribe of the my-truck-is-worth-more-than-my-trailer-and-my-wife-weighs-more-than-both-and-all-of-them-have-Calvin-pissing-on-something-somewhere-on-them tribe. Then it dawned on me - instead of peace pipes and ceremonial gatherings, they have Monster energy drinks and Pay-Per-View. They really are tribal after all.
The argument from the land of food stamps is of course that they are expressing themselves. I find it sad when I see a really beautiful girl with a bull ring in her nose or a hole in her face that shouldn't be there, accompanied by arms that look like comic book vomit. Apparently some people find this crap attractive, so there must be a certain variety of person that jerks their gherkin to hardware catalogs and graphic novels.
Again, this is only my opinion, if people want to age looking like they have a skin condition, that's their thing I guess. I just don't get it.
Til next time.
Wednesday, January 25, 2012
The Big Game! Super Bowl Time!
Isn't football exciting! Two teams vying for every ounce of the ol' pigskin glory and a chance to call yourself a world champion in front of an admiring public! It is so easy to get swept up in the excitement of it all. People who don't watch football during the regular season will tune in to see the game, the entertainment, and the premiering commercials and have a daylong indoor athletic orgasm from the sensory over- stimulation. Unless you're me.
The only time I ever really catch up on what happens in football is when some fumduck starts a fight or opens fire in a nightclub because he has that narcissistic streak of entitlement because he can run real fast or catch or throw. The NFL looks more like the general population play yard at the state pen these days.
Seriously, every game I have ever watched looks like this - fat guy on sidelines with headset has furrowed brow; the tension is set - drama builds and is released when the big guy on the field throws the ball and someone dressed like him runs with it, gets knocked down. Repeat for 3 hours. Camera will occasionally scan the stands to focus on the screaming, painted, mental midgets jerking themselves off in a collection of sheeplike chaos.
I just don't get it - unless your little brother or a friend is out there making the plays, a person has no reason to get that excited. Its not even about community pride - how many of those players live in the cities their jerseys represent? Usually the only time they spend in the state they play for is in the prison because they tried to board a plane with an illicit substance or weapon. I would seriously like to know why people get that wound up about what someone else accomplishes.
Here's a rough, albeit accurate assessment of football: Big dudes playing full contact in lycra pants trying to penetrate each other's end zone. Let's get a group of guys together to watch that while getting more obese drinking beer and eating Doritos - sounds pretty cool.
Til next time.
The only time I ever really catch up on what happens in football is when some fumduck starts a fight or opens fire in a nightclub because he has that narcissistic streak of entitlement because he can run real fast or catch or throw. The NFL looks more like the general population play yard at the state pen these days.
Seriously, every game I have ever watched looks like this - fat guy on sidelines with headset has furrowed brow; the tension is set - drama builds and is released when the big guy on the field throws the ball and someone dressed like him runs with it, gets knocked down. Repeat for 3 hours. Camera will occasionally scan the stands to focus on the screaming, painted, mental midgets jerking themselves off in a collection of sheeplike chaos.
I just don't get it - unless your little brother or a friend is out there making the plays, a person has no reason to get that excited. Its not even about community pride - how many of those players live in the cities their jerseys represent? Usually the only time they spend in the state they play for is in the prison because they tried to board a plane with an illicit substance or weapon. I would seriously like to know why people get that wound up about what someone else accomplishes.
Here's a rough, albeit accurate assessment of football: Big dudes playing full contact in lycra pants trying to penetrate each other's end zone. Let's get a group of guys together to watch that while getting more obese drinking beer and eating Doritos - sounds pretty cool.
Til next time.
Monday, January 23, 2012
Gun Cuntrol
One serious thing I don't understand about this country is the instant something tragic like a school shooting happens, the kneejerk reaction is a renewed call for gun cuntrol. It all boils down to a certain portion of the population having a blatant disregard for human lives, and being cowards, they open fire in places that they know law abiding citizens will not be packing heat. So in order to understand this argument, you have to accept that we could save lives if we overlook the fact that these bloodthirsty assholes seriously wanted to kill someone, and put into place more laws about them leaving their weapons at home. If you sympathize or believe what you just read in that sentence, then don't bother going any further. I won't change your mind, because you obviously don't have one.
The reason is simple. Just like birth defects, stupidity, pygmy goats, blue eyes, religion, and Canada, guns exist and always will - like it or not. Its the very same reason that the war on drugs will never be successful. Drugs will always exist, so as long as they're illegal, there will be a war on drugs. All the war does is drive the price up and make the suppliers a shitload of money.
In my eyes, (and I am biased here, being a gun owner) I would rather take my chances that some responsible citizen in the crowd was prepared for any trouble, because the chances of that person being an accurate, practiced marksman as opposed to some felon who used whatever means necessary to obtain a weapon and use it for an illegal purpose are pretty high. The problem is that gun laws only affect those of us that follow the law. Responsible gun owners are highly aware of the constitutional right we were given and will not abuse it for any reason, but the chances of some double digit IQ trailer trash or illegal (I like using that word - renders any argument about their legality impotent) opening fire on a crowd and taking a few innocent lives being concerned with firearm restrictions are pretty low. I know if I have the chance to shoot back, there will be no stray bullets, no excess casualties or anything other than one dead asshole. They go to the morgue, I answer some questions and go home and eat pancakes. A simplistic point of view to be sure, but the truth.
If you don't like guns or having the ability to defend yourself, that's fine, don't buy one. I don't want you to be armed either - but being armed is not synonymous with "trigger-happy". It just makes sense to some of us to have a gun. It levels the playing field - if you are the victim of a home invasion, do you think that if you are given a chance to reason with the invaders, they will respond favorably if you mention they were trespassing AND brandishing weapons at you and if law enforcement was around they would be punished to the full extent of the law? Of course not - they count on not having police there. I would also count on police not being there. However, something they wouldn't count on is leaving in a 6' ziploc. This entire topic is a no-brainer, so I guess it makes sense that it gets made into a topic by people with no brains.
Its hard to tell though. I truly do believe that some people enjoy playing the victim. If you don't believe that, head over to facebook and count up how many people are giving unwarranted medical updates or asking for prayers.
Til next time
The reason is simple. Just like birth defects, stupidity, pygmy goats, blue eyes, religion, and Canada, guns exist and always will - like it or not. Its the very same reason that the war on drugs will never be successful. Drugs will always exist, so as long as they're illegal, there will be a war on drugs. All the war does is drive the price up and make the suppliers a shitload of money.
In my eyes, (and I am biased here, being a gun owner) I would rather take my chances that some responsible citizen in the crowd was prepared for any trouble, because the chances of that person being an accurate, practiced marksman as opposed to some felon who used whatever means necessary to obtain a weapon and use it for an illegal purpose are pretty high. The problem is that gun laws only affect those of us that follow the law. Responsible gun owners are highly aware of the constitutional right we were given and will not abuse it for any reason, but the chances of some double digit IQ trailer trash or illegal (I like using that word - renders any argument about their legality impotent) opening fire on a crowd and taking a few innocent lives being concerned with firearm restrictions are pretty low. I know if I have the chance to shoot back, there will be no stray bullets, no excess casualties or anything other than one dead asshole. They go to the morgue, I answer some questions and go home and eat pancakes. A simplistic point of view to be sure, but the truth.
If you don't like guns or having the ability to defend yourself, that's fine, don't buy one. I don't want you to be armed either - but being armed is not synonymous with "trigger-happy". It just makes sense to some of us to have a gun. It levels the playing field - if you are the victim of a home invasion, do you think that if you are given a chance to reason with the invaders, they will respond favorably if you mention they were trespassing AND brandishing weapons at you and if law enforcement was around they would be punished to the full extent of the law? Of course not - they count on not having police there. I would also count on police not being there. However, something they wouldn't count on is leaving in a 6' ziploc. This entire topic is a no-brainer, so I guess it makes sense that it gets made into a topic by people with no brains.
Its hard to tell though. I truly do believe that some people enjoy playing the victim. If you don't believe that, head over to facebook and count up how many people are giving unwarranted medical updates or asking for prayers.
Til next time
Tuesday, January 10, 2012
North Til You Smell It, West Til You Step In It.
I often complain about the idiosyncracies of Bellingham - the City of Subdued Excitement; or as I like to call it - the City of Subhuman Excrement. I like to take note of our fair city and examine the things about it that the highly overrated "Bellingham State of Mind" video failed to point out. The waste that rinses into the Railroad Avenue basin aren't funny or culturally important, they simply smell and would only accurately represent our population if all of Bellingham were on work release. The number of citations given at the Holly and Railroad intersection for public urination are only a surprise to the people who haven't been here before. It is one big example of a county seat in serious need of a wipe. However, the pendulum of pointlessness will swing north for once and target my hometown.
Lynden is probably the cleanest, safest, and simply put, best place in the county to raise a family. However, that doesn't mean it is without its share of problems. A good description of it could possibly be if a person was able to grab a burlap bag and fill it with Maberry, Rod Serling, a cup of Twin Peaks, a dash of calf starter, and a tablespoon of cowshit, then line dance on it, then the hairy paste adhering the bag to itself afterwards could be called Lynden. Its not necessarily a bad place, just kind of its own little surreal island.
Oddly enough, I do love Lynden. What I don't love are stereotypes, and it is full of them. Stereotypes and cowshit. You like the smell of a family barbecue under a bright mid-July sky? Too bad. Cowshit.
As far as stereotypes, where Bellingham has the urbanized trailer trash, and high-maintenance-of-mind-but-low-rent-at-heart lack of understanding of itself, Lynden has always understood exactly what it is. Fashion is dictated by the local feed store, and the Bellingham Subarus with Obama bumper stickers are replaced with Escalades that have Cowgirl Up stickers, or trucks with bumpers taller than a giraffe's nutsack encased in mud concealing the Tap-out redneck stamp of approval.
My personal favorites are the characters driving these goliath vehicles. In order to receive your SUV pilot's license, you start as a female aged 25+ with an affinity for squeezing piano legs into the Abercrombie sausage casings known as capri pants, add a dash of Cruel Girl shirt short enough to expose flesh muffin with trite tramp stamp, insert iPhone in one hand and 24 oz. lowfat latte in the other, garnish with enough blonde hair to make Hitler sick, verify legal blindness, and there you have it.
As far as getting your muddin' & rootin' license, that's much easier. Start with a basic MMA fan, add white wife beater shirt (possible carhartt or flannel overshirt), shaved head, mandatory goatee, tribal white boy tattoos, racist leanings, appropriate confederate flag representation, functional IQ of a bowl of soup, and that's pretty much it.
Thankfully there's a church on fucking near every corner, so people can take a break once in a while from the daily rigors of incest and closet alcoholism to ask forgiveness. We may not be able to mow our lawns on Sunday, wash our cars, or buy alcohol, so we find other outlets I guess.
Like I said, I love Lynden.
Til next time.
Lynden is probably the cleanest, safest, and simply put, best place in the county to raise a family. However, that doesn't mean it is without its share of problems. A good description of it could possibly be if a person was able to grab a burlap bag and fill it with Maberry, Rod Serling, a cup of Twin Peaks, a dash of calf starter, and a tablespoon of cowshit, then line dance on it, then the hairy paste adhering the bag to itself afterwards could be called Lynden. Its not necessarily a bad place, just kind of its own little surreal island.
Oddly enough, I do love Lynden. What I don't love are stereotypes, and it is full of them. Stereotypes and cowshit. You like the smell of a family barbecue under a bright mid-July sky? Too bad. Cowshit.
As far as stereotypes, where Bellingham has the urbanized trailer trash, and high-maintenance-of-mind-but-low-rent-at-heart lack of understanding of itself, Lynden has always understood exactly what it is. Fashion is dictated by the local feed store, and the Bellingham Subarus with Obama bumper stickers are replaced with Escalades that have Cowgirl Up stickers, or trucks with bumpers taller than a giraffe's nutsack encased in mud concealing the Tap-out redneck stamp of approval.
My personal favorites are the characters driving these goliath vehicles. In order to receive your SUV pilot's license, you start as a female aged 25+ with an affinity for squeezing piano legs into the Abercrombie sausage casings known as capri pants, add a dash of Cruel Girl shirt short enough to expose flesh muffin with trite tramp stamp, insert iPhone in one hand and 24 oz. lowfat latte in the other, garnish with enough blonde hair to make Hitler sick, verify legal blindness, and there you have it.
As far as getting your muddin' & rootin' license, that's much easier. Start with a basic MMA fan, add white wife beater shirt (possible carhartt or flannel overshirt), shaved head, mandatory goatee, tribal white boy tattoos, racist leanings, appropriate confederate flag representation, functional IQ of a bowl of soup, and that's pretty much it.
Thankfully there's a church on fucking near every corner, so people can take a break once in a while from the daily rigors of incest and closet alcoholism to ask forgiveness. We may not be able to mow our lawns on Sunday, wash our cars, or buy alcohol, so we find other outlets I guess.
Like I said, I love Lynden.
Til next time.
Monday, January 9, 2012
Boss-holes.
I've worked in the sign industry for quite a while. Certainly long enough to have come in contact and worked with many endearing, motivated, and honestly good people. The unfortunate truth is that none of them have ever owned any of those companies. I think realistically that the majority of sign shop owners are at best ineffective leaders, and at worst the raging, swollen private parts of an angry primate.
Take the last rectum I worked for, (previous to my current employer) for example. He seemed like a good guy to all that met him, but upon further scrutiny showed his true form, which just happened to be an overstuffed, pussy whipped, functionally retarded, porcine man-child with all the sophistication of a composting camp toilet (sorry composting camp toilets). The only reason this human effluent exhaust was able to keep his business afloat was the broken backs of the good people he hired; that, I suppose combined with the inherent crooked nature of the bovine princess he married. He would change the construction of a project after a customer approval drawing was completed, then proceed to blame the employees for any lost revenue on the sign. Queen Holstein would then validate his lie, and no one would ever receive a raise. Pretty cool business model, huh? I spent over ten years with that. If he WAS ever caught in a lie with her we could easily tell, as he would whine about not getting his allowance (or much else) for a week. Although, some of those x-rated cartoons people can send you over their phone are pretty funny-I'm not sure I could spend 6 hours a day dodging client phone calls and other responsibilities in favor of showing everyong a flash animation of Olive Oyl blowing Popeye.
Of course one of the other guys I worked for who seriously was a throbbing monkey member was a pill popping, megalomaniac that looked and sounded like a vulgar J. Jonah Jameson in an inflatable sumo suit. This guy would stagger around in an angry, infantile, pill induced stupor trying to instill fear in his subordinates. Really kind of run-of-the-mill now that I look back on it. He was at least somewhat amusing in that he would threaten to or actually fire someone on an almost daily basis. That guy is about a twinkie and a cigar from a massive coronary.
The saddest thing about all of it, is that I just make words look pretty so we can light them up on a wall. What I do on the surface isn't all that important - but to the people buying them it means the world. I hold a certain degree of their success in the palm of my hand. This is what wakes me up at night. Can I maintain this miserable balance for another 30 years? Can I deliver a client's expectation AND deal with managerial shortcomings?
Probably not - the customers can be fuckers too.
Til next time.
Take the last rectum I worked for, (previous to my current employer) for example. He seemed like a good guy to all that met him, but upon further scrutiny showed his true form, which just happened to be an overstuffed, pussy whipped, functionally retarded, porcine man-child with all the sophistication of a composting camp toilet (sorry composting camp toilets). The only reason this human effluent exhaust was able to keep his business afloat was the broken backs of the good people he hired; that, I suppose combined with the inherent crooked nature of the bovine princess he married. He would change the construction of a project after a customer approval drawing was completed, then proceed to blame the employees for any lost revenue on the sign. Queen Holstein would then validate his lie, and no one would ever receive a raise. Pretty cool business model, huh? I spent over ten years with that. If he WAS ever caught in a lie with her we could easily tell, as he would whine about not getting his allowance (or much else) for a week. Although, some of those x-rated cartoons people can send you over their phone are pretty funny-I'm not sure I could spend 6 hours a day dodging client phone calls and other responsibilities in favor of showing everyong a flash animation of Olive Oyl blowing Popeye.
Of course one of the other guys I worked for who seriously was a throbbing monkey member was a pill popping, megalomaniac that looked and sounded like a vulgar J. Jonah Jameson in an inflatable sumo suit. This guy would stagger around in an angry, infantile, pill induced stupor trying to instill fear in his subordinates. Really kind of run-of-the-mill now that I look back on it. He was at least somewhat amusing in that he would threaten to or actually fire someone on an almost daily basis. That guy is about a twinkie and a cigar from a massive coronary.
The saddest thing about all of it, is that I just make words look pretty so we can light them up on a wall. What I do on the surface isn't all that important - but to the people buying them it means the world. I hold a certain degree of their success in the palm of my hand. This is what wakes me up at night. Can I maintain this miserable balance for another 30 years? Can I deliver a client's expectation AND deal with managerial shortcomings?
Probably not - the customers can be fuckers too.
Til next time.
Tuesday, January 3, 2012
Your Silence is Greatly Appreciated
One of the reasons I started doing this is because it was getting increasingly hard to distinguish between facebook and WebMD. If someone has an interesting thought on something, the chances of reading a blog for me are a lot higher than me reading a paragraph about how you need prayers because your foot hurts. If a person has wonderful exciting news about something, I love to hear about it. Otherwise, facebook turns everyone into a 12 year old girl with severe self esteem problems.
Seriously, if I've known you for 20 years the chances of me giving a kilt without undies about your choice of dinner that night are pretty slim. That's just one example; how about reposts about anything? Every single day there are more pictures with text than I can count with quirky, ironic, moronic, baseless, pointless, stupid things that someone saw and re-posted thinking THIS WILL BE MY CHANCE TO TAKE THE WEB BY STORM! - using someone else's idea of course. Near as I can tell, most of the people on facebook are either a woman that wishes she had a penis or a man who wishes the one he had was bigger. All the bluff and crass "I'm a woman and I'm tough, see, Grrrr!" or "I'm just chillin, tryin to sound cool so I can eventually get laid by impressing people with my status updates" Jeezis, it could drive a Catholic priest to diddling women.
I like to hear good news about events that are shaping my friends' lives and futures. This is life whether you feel like you're getting a decent return on investment or not. Presenting these useless updates about the trivial bumps in the road in your day is like asking your friends to watch you masturbate, and a couple of button clicks away from making video games seem like a wise use of time. I would have to say - change the world - if not, change your own world. People who thrive on re-posting on facebook bring to mind ravenous sports fans; unless its your ass out of that chair sans Fritos scoring the big game-winning touchdown, you're just another mindless worshipper of someone else's acheivements- so shut the hell up and don't expect me to give a shit.
F u fb. lol, rotfl, lmao, :) :(
Til next time.
Seriously, if I've known you for 20 years the chances of me giving a kilt without undies about your choice of dinner that night are pretty slim. That's just one example; how about reposts about anything? Every single day there are more pictures with text than I can count with quirky, ironic, moronic, baseless, pointless, stupid things that someone saw and re-posted thinking THIS WILL BE MY CHANCE TO TAKE THE WEB BY STORM! - using someone else's idea of course. Near as I can tell, most of the people on facebook are either a woman that wishes she had a penis or a man who wishes the one he had was bigger. All the bluff and crass "I'm a woman and I'm tough, see, Grrrr!" or "I'm just chillin, tryin to sound cool so I can eventually get laid by impressing people with my status updates" Jeezis, it could drive a Catholic priest to diddling women.
I like to hear good news about events that are shaping my friends' lives and futures. This is life whether you feel like you're getting a decent return on investment or not. Presenting these useless updates about the trivial bumps in the road in your day is like asking your friends to watch you masturbate, and a couple of button clicks away from making video games seem like a wise use of time. I would have to say - change the world - if not, change your own world. People who thrive on re-posting on facebook bring to mind ravenous sports fans; unless its your ass out of that chair sans Fritos scoring the big game-winning touchdown, you're just another mindless worshipper of someone else's acheivements- so shut the hell up and don't expect me to give a shit.
F u fb. lol, rotfl, lmao, :) :(
Til next time.
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