Kids do a good job doing 46 & 2. Looks like none of these kids were born on 96 or before. They should put this on the Disney Channel.
Sadly, I lost somebody on Sunday morning.
RIP Buddy Laws
Monday, September 23, 2013
Kids do 46 & 2.
Kids do a good job doing 46 & 2. Looks like none of these kids were born on 96 or before. They should put this on the Disney Channel.
Sadly, I lost somebody on Sunday morning.
RIP Buddy Laws
Saturday, September 7, 2013
Changing Nature?
Getting away from lazy worker rage for a little, I like to talk about one of the most creepy endings to a TV series. The early to mid 1990s brought us Full House, Family Matters, Blossom, The start of the Simpsons and much more. We had TGIF, a good excuse to not to stay outside on a summer night while darkness falls (a little dramatic, are we?)
Just past Jim Henson's death, the project he worked on before his untimely death was a show called Dinosaurs. For anyone who grew up in the 90s, do we need to explain? Here's a short synopsis, a typical family of walking intelligent (maybe not) dinosaur family with the husband, wife, two teenage kids and a white dinosaur baby. The show was a little crude for the family, as it walked into the world of satire. Me and an ex-girlfreind once was bored after sex and we decided to watch some back shows on NetFlix. The first few episodes of Dinosaurs we watched as I told her about the dreaded final episode, something she wasn't interested in watching.
Changing Nature begins as every episode starts out, with the intro. Then we go with the news reporter telling the folks of Pangea (what they called Earth) telling of the annual entrance of the Bench Beetles. These beetles help destroy the growing cider poppy. However, when the time comes for these beetles to arrive, only one returns by the name of Stan. This later causes the cider poppies to continue growing, causing some inconvenience.
So, as in the series, Earl is the working stiff of the family for a big corporation that decides to take charge of the cider poppy issue by destroying them with helicopters dropping some shit on them. But before they do, Stan and the teen female dinosaur (forgot her name) go on to see what happened to the Bench Beetle's grounds. It had been replaced with a large industrial park with Earl's company's Wax Fruit production center standing on the old grounds. Stan and the female dinosaur protest on TV, and Earl comes in to oppose.
The company (known as WeSaySo) does to their word on destroying the cider poppies. But also, they have destroyed all plant life. While I'm mentioning this, would it be cool if Bill Duke were to pop-up as himself and tell WeSaySo that they done fucked up?
Earl, who is in charge of the WeSaySo Task Force (or it could have been a different name, too lazy to research while I'm trying to finish this up before I go to work) and his boss begin to discuss how they can bring plant life back. The boss (Named B.P. Richfield, what a coincidence with the BP) gets impatient with the discussion and suggests to put bombs in the volcanoes around the world to produce clouds.
Just past Jim Henson's death, the project he worked on before his untimely death was a show called Dinosaurs. For anyone who grew up in the 90s, do we need to explain? Here's a short synopsis, a typical family of walking intelligent (maybe not) dinosaur family with the husband, wife, two teenage kids and a white dinosaur baby. The show was a little crude for the family, as it walked into the world of satire. Me and an ex-girlfreind once was bored after sex and we decided to watch some back shows on NetFlix. The first few episodes of Dinosaurs we watched as I told her about the dreaded final episode, something she wasn't interested in watching.
Changing Nature begins as every episode starts out, with the intro. Then we go with the news reporter telling the folks of Pangea (what they called Earth) telling of the annual entrance of the Bench Beetles. These beetles help destroy the growing cider poppy. However, when the time comes for these beetles to arrive, only one returns by the name of Stan. This later causes the cider poppies to continue growing, causing some inconvenience.
So, as in the series, Earl is the working stiff of the family for a big corporation that decides to take charge of the cider poppy issue by destroying them with helicopters dropping some shit on them. But before they do, Stan and the teen female dinosaur (forgot her name) go on to see what happened to the Bench Beetle's grounds. It had been replaced with a large industrial park with Earl's company's Wax Fruit production center standing on the old grounds. Stan and the female dinosaur protest on TV, and Earl comes in to oppose.
The company (known as WeSaySo) does to their word on destroying the cider poppies. But also, they have destroyed all plant life. While I'm mentioning this, would it be cool if Bill Duke were to pop-up as himself and tell WeSaySo that they done fucked up?
Earl, who is in charge of the WeSaySo Task Force (or it could have been a different name, too lazy to research while I'm trying to finish this up before I go to work) and his boss begin to discuss how they can bring plant life back. The boss (Named B.P. Richfield, what a coincidence with the BP) gets impatient with the discussion and suggests to put bombs in the volcanoes around the world to produce clouds.
Borrowed from AVClub, sorry, too lazy to get my own photo
So, the bombs in the volcanoes do make the clouds and causes snow opposed to rain. Earl looks out his windows and is happy to see that soon, the snow will melt eventually and the plants should pop-up. However, the news says otherwise and the reporter (named Howard Handupme) states that the Task Force's solution created clouds that will not dissipate for over 10,000 years.
Earl calls his boss who is excited about how people are buying WeSaySo products and having the best 3rd quarter ever. Earl tries to reason with him and telling him that they have caused the end of the world, but BP Richfield surely doesn't give a shit. He's got a lot of money.
And after so, we hear the depressing music while we see the Sinclair family trying their best to stay warm. A few jokes are cracked by Stan and the grandmother (eventually she moves in somewhere during the series), and Earl finally apologizes to his family and explains how it's easy to take nature for granted. He also explains to the baby that they are pretty much screwed.
The show ends with Howard Handupme grimly stating the final long range forecast witch is very cold and dark for years to come. He ends the final newscast nearly in tears: "Goodnight....goodbye."
While it rolls credits, it shows the front of the Sinclair house being covered by the Storm of the Century, or the Final Storm of the Era, you hear the harsh wind and the depressing music.
That right there gave me the fucking creeps. Can you just imagine another episode of that? With the temperature just dropping and dropping? Eventually, the folks who run the power plants and the gas plants saying fuck-it, and they shut off the power and the heat? What the fuck could you do? I live by myself, if I couldn't get to my family due to the snow covering my house and it get colder and colder, I'd fucking burn down my house and go along with it. I'll experience hell before I go there.
What also happens after the credits roll, they have the Walt Disney logo pop-up. I suppose after that was played, they went to the TGIF logo with the voiceovers singing "Just stay right here."
These very special episodes do make good discussion, especially the Different Strokes episode with the child molester. And that show reminds me why I'm going to hell, after Gary Coleman died, I joked with a couple of friends, "Hey, Gary Coleman died from a Different Stroke." That and also laughing at Hulk Hogan 9/11. I'll just shut up and finish with this video:
Friday, August 16, 2013
Jack's on Waterfront
It's been just a less than a month since my last post, so I'll try to make a good one.
I've been watching back episodes of Kitchen Nightmares on Netflix and heard of Jack's on Waterfront (now known as Brownies) in the lovely city of Saint Clair Shores, MI. A city I once was a resident of and wish to be a resident again. Sadly, the renting that I could afford is near the police station, and I'm not a fan of SCS cops. Living by the police station scares the hell out of me.
But anyways, this episode was shot in the winter of 2008, a time where I didn't have a full-time job and watching this made me fucking furious. I'll go there in a bit, but anywho, Jack's was owned by three musclemen, the one named Scott I've seen recently, but unsure where or when, but I've seen him before. And how it goes, well, they are failing and they serve fake crab. One of the owner's father works as the GM and fucks up a lot, and the poor head chef works with fucking dickheads.
Mr. Ramsay does what he needs to do, including getting fish caught from the frozen Lake St. Clair and with a few fuck-ups and Scott going in the cook line screaming, Jack's becomes a success until Dec 2010 when (according to a website) is when the sold the restaurant back to the original owners and some months after, they turned into Brownies, where I went to the memorial service for my friend Allan Beasinger who sadly passed away in Feb 2012.
RIP Allan B. (80-12)
However, going back to what pissed me off about Jack's is how the kitchen was ran. The kitchen had a head chef named Aaron who is trying to get his staff on the same page but his words fall on deaf ears. Perhaps the folks at FOX was pushing it to be more dramatic, however, I kept feeling sorry for the poor guy. He was trying to run the kitchen while people are fucking around, including the GM himself. This episode was shot in Feb of 08 from the info I got. I was working part-time and I was looking for something to add on to it while dwelling away in a roommate house. And to see the mofos to work full-time to just fuck around, including a GM getting paid $100,000/year to fuck up constantly?
It's all in the past, but that's bullshit.
I do hope that Aaron is on to greener passages. That guy surely doesn't deserve that shit.
"I've just created a new board game for Muslims called 'Atrocity'.
It's just like Monopoly except you start with the buildings on the board."
~ Hollywood Allan (not to be confused with the previous Allan I've mentioned)
I've been watching back episodes of Kitchen Nightmares on Netflix and heard of Jack's on Waterfront (now known as Brownies) in the lovely city of Saint Clair Shores, MI. A city I once was a resident of and wish to be a resident again. Sadly, the renting that I could afford is near the police station, and I'm not a fan of SCS cops. Living by the police station scares the hell out of me.
But anyways, this episode was shot in the winter of 2008, a time where I didn't have a full-time job and watching this made me fucking furious. I'll go there in a bit, but anywho, Jack's was owned by three musclemen, the one named Scott I've seen recently, but unsure where or when, but I've seen him before. And how it goes, well, they are failing and they serve fake crab. One of the owner's father works as the GM and fucks up a lot, and the poor head chef works with fucking dickheads.
Mr. Ramsay does what he needs to do, including getting fish caught from the frozen Lake St. Clair and with a few fuck-ups and Scott going in the cook line screaming, Jack's becomes a success until Dec 2010 when (according to a website) is when the sold the restaurant back to the original owners and some months after, they turned into Brownies, where I went to the memorial service for my friend Allan Beasinger who sadly passed away in Feb 2012.
RIP Allan B. (80-12)
However, going back to what pissed me off about Jack's is how the kitchen was ran. The kitchen had a head chef named Aaron who is trying to get his staff on the same page but his words fall on deaf ears. Perhaps the folks at FOX was pushing it to be more dramatic, however, I kept feeling sorry for the poor guy. He was trying to run the kitchen while people are fucking around, including the GM himself. This episode was shot in Feb of 08 from the info I got. I was working part-time and I was looking for something to add on to it while dwelling away in a roommate house. And to see the mofos to work full-time to just fuck around, including a GM getting paid $100,000/year to fuck up constantly?
It's all in the past, but that's bullshit.
I do hope that Aaron is on to greener passages. That guy surely doesn't deserve that shit.
"I've just created a new board game for Muslims called 'Atrocity'.
It's just like Monopoly except you start with the buildings on the board."
~ Hollywood Allan (not to be confused with the previous Allan I've mentioned)
Thursday, July 25, 2013
Rolling Stone Cover / Anthony Weiner's Weiner
When it comes to Rolling Stone magazine, I stopped reading it when the grunge-era ended. Back in the summer of 93 (at 11 years old), I was a fan of classic rock. And then Stone Temple Pilots came around with "Plush" that it blew me away. I stopped listening to journey and got into the grunge. I begged my family to buy me flannel and grunge CD's as I got into STP, Alice In Chains, The Offspring, Sheryl Crow (god, I wanted to fuck her!) and a few more that I can't think of. 93, 94 and 95, I could fucking watch MTV all day long. I loved grunge! I got a Alice In Chains Dirt t-shirt for Xmas in 94, I wore the shirt twice a week and was often ripped on for that at school.
Rolling Stone magazine was something I would read to get info on my favorite bands at the time. Would love reading about STP, AIC, Soundgarden, lots more, while bashing the bands I hated, calling them gaywods. One of them I hated at first was Collective Soul, I hated "Shine", but after a while they got onto to me, and when their song Gel got with the Jerky Boys movie, they gained my respect. But another thing that Rolling Stone did that I hated was the political shit they would input. I remember getting my grungy paws onto a Rolling Stone somewhere in that era, and there was an article about Global Warming. It's a fucking music magazine, FUCK global warming! I wanna see that pic of Sheryl Crow wearing a white blouse so I can enjoy the fun of masturbating to it (I did have a crush on Sheryl Crow, as said again).
But after the grunge era passed us by and Mike Judge ended Beavis and Butthead for the happier King of The Hill (not a serious fan of), I stopped reading Rolling Stone. We went to the end of the grunge era to the start of the boy band era, and I wasn't a fan of the Backstreet Boys. I last time I read a Rolling Stone was when Joey Ramone died and on the cover was Destiny's Child, they were pushing Destiny's Child the magazine opposed to Joey Ramone's passing, so I imagined Beyonce's Father (then the manager) must of ponied up the cash to put his skanky daughter on the cover, opposed to a dead punk legend.
I guess even since I dropped Rolling Stone altogether, from what I have been told, RS sure has gone political a little more. It's interesting to see that the folks of Rolling Stone was able to borrow the living Boston bomber, give him a makeover, and now, he's on the cover of a Rolling Stone.
It's good that people are giving Rolling Stone shit on their Facebook. I wanted to put up a picture of a prolapsed anus, but RS restricts pics (probably stopped when the shit storm went their way). It's interesting to see real-time complaints on a web page (couldn't do that in 93-95, all you can do is write a letter and hope for the 1 in 1,000,000,000 chance that your letter will be put up on their mailbox issue. I wrote two letters to Metal Maniacs (RIP 2009, wah!) and those didn't get on the mail section.
And it's also good that most retailers in Boston and New England are pissed off about it too. But according to an article I read, RS is highly-based on subscribers. So, quite a few will say fuck you to Rolling Stone.
But in the end, Rolling Stone will continue on. they won't go bust on putting the bomber on the cover of the Rolling Stone. They will continue with articles about Global Warming and how the Republicans are fucking up the world (I'm a Moderate, so shut up bitch), they will take loads of money from a pop star to put her on the cover, even if an old rockstar who was big in the 70s or 80s or both finally kicks the bucket. So, say if Bob Seger dies and Carly Rae Jepsen shits out another hit and her label gives loads of cash to Rolling Stone, don't expect an old photo of Bob Seger with his birth year and death year with loads of info and interviews from the people who knew him, expect Carly Rae Jepsen with a written article of blatant ass-kissing.
With that scenario mentioned, I wonder if the end of the grunge era has got to me. Sounds like it does.
----------------------------
Now, with the second mention....
I'm fucking tired, I gotta work 12 hours with a wacky fucker. So, to make things simple and short. Mr. Weiner surely has a sex addiction and his wife looking to move on with him (opposed to without) does suggest to me that perhaps she doesn't want to be go down a level of two while dealing with the divorce (IE, leaving Mr. Weiner's house to stay with her parents). Just a guess.
It isn't the first time that Mr. Weiner has done bad with showing his weiner to them womanz. But, a woman who respects herself would fucking run away from that after strike one (shitty analogy).
Just as much as a woman who respects herself would not go to bed with me, unless she's drunk and we bang. Then she wakes up the next morning and says, "Oh my gawd, I had sex with one of my son's ugly friends?"
Robbee loves cougars.
A woman whose crazy fucks me and asks for more, I bet Ms. Weiner would be one of them.
"We suspend our disbelief
And we are not alone."
-Rush, Mystic Rhythms 1985
Rolling Stone magazine was something I would read to get info on my favorite bands at the time. Would love reading about STP, AIC, Soundgarden, lots more, while bashing the bands I hated, calling them gaywods. One of them I hated at first was Collective Soul, I hated "Shine", but after a while they got onto to me, and when their song Gel got with the Jerky Boys movie, they gained my respect. But another thing that Rolling Stone did that I hated was the political shit they would input. I remember getting my grungy paws onto a Rolling Stone somewhere in that era, and there was an article about Global Warming. It's a fucking music magazine, FUCK global warming! I wanna see that pic of Sheryl Crow wearing a white blouse so I can enjoy the fun of masturbating to it (I did have a crush on Sheryl Crow, as said again).
But after the grunge era passed us by and Mike Judge ended Beavis and Butthead for the happier King of The Hill (not a serious fan of), I stopped reading Rolling Stone. We went to the end of the grunge era to the start of the boy band era, and I wasn't a fan of the Backstreet Boys. I last time I read a Rolling Stone was when Joey Ramone died and on the cover was Destiny's Child, they were pushing Destiny's Child the magazine opposed to Joey Ramone's passing, so I imagined Beyonce's Father (then the manager) must of ponied up the cash to put his skanky daughter on the cover, opposed to a dead punk legend.
 |
| I thought this would be better, stolen from Philly.com |
And it's also good that most retailers in Boston and New England are pissed off about it too. But according to an article I read, RS is highly-based on subscribers. So, quite a few will say fuck you to Rolling Stone.
But in the end, Rolling Stone will continue on. they won't go bust on putting the bomber on the cover of the Rolling Stone. They will continue with articles about Global Warming and how the Republicans are fucking up the world (I'm a Moderate, so shut up bitch), they will take loads of money from a pop star to put her on the cover, even if an old rockstar who was big in the 70s or 80s or both finally kicks the bucket. So, say if Bob Seger dies and Carly Rae Jepsen shits out another hit and her label gives loads of cash to Rolling Stone, don't expect an old photo of Bob Seger with his birth year and death year with loads of info and interviews from the people who knew him, expect Carly Rae Jepsen with a written article of blatant ass-kissing.
With that scenario mentioned, I wonder if the end of the grunge era has got to me. Sounds like it does.
----------------------------
Now, with the second mention....
I'm fucking tired, I gotta work 12 hours with a wacky fucker. So, to make things simple and short. Mr. Weiner surely has a sex addiction and his wife looking to move on with him (opposed to without) does suggest to me that perhaps she doesn't want to be go down a level of two while dealing with the divorce (IE, leaving Mr. Weiner's house to stay with her parents). Just a guess.
It isn't the first time that Mr. Weiner has done bad with showing his weiner to them womanz. But, a woman who respects herself would fucking run away from that after strike one (shitty analogy).
Just as much as a woman who respects herself would not go to bed with me, unless she's drunk and we bang. Then she wakes up the next morning and says, "Oh my gawd, I had sex with one of my son's ugly friends?"
Robbee loves cougars.
A woman whose crazy fucks me and asks for more, I bet Ms. Weiner would be one of them.
"We suspend our disbelief
And we are not alone."
-Rush, Mystic Rhythms 1985
Saturday, July 13, 2013
Putting the pieces together while travelling to 1997.
On Friday, 12th of July in 2013, I was transported back to the 1990's say, 1997? Okay, that is a fucked up way to start a blog posting. People are running away now from this blog, citing that I'm a crazy person. Boy, did I make the people who seriously believe in time travel very angry.
Thanks to the folks at Hatchy's in Utica, MI (The big owners of this bar are the Hatcher brothers who have previously played in the NHL), myself, Hollywood Allan, long-time pal Jason and my new friend Amy went back into the 90s with this cover band of the said decade Marc Summerz and the Double Darez.
Their first set was some of our 90's alternative faves, including Gin Blossoms' Hey Jealously. The second set was the pop hits, they even did Britney Spears' big hit and I actually enjoyed it better than the original, however, nobody was on the dance floor for Hanson's MmmBop. Not to say that this band did a bad job of it, but I can say that reminded me of how annoying that song was, and it seemed that most people agreed. Their third set was at random, but that I could remember that most of the songs were from the early 90s, including Biz Markie's big hit, and they did 1989 with "Love Shack."
Fred Schinder (did I speel his last name rite) creeps me out. He looks like a pedophile (I can see some angry B-52s fans commenting: "How do you know what a pedophile looks like, huh fag?" or perhaps, "What, did some guy who looked like Fred Schinder molest you?").
Going back to 08, I was a boring mofo and would rarely do things like hitting up a 90's party. Shit, even in 10 (2010) I wouldn't do much of this. But I was on the dance floor, dancing like shit but able to convince a few girls to dance with me. My friend Jason had also danced as well, but like myself, he got denied quite a few times. I guess even good-looking guys like Jay (unlike ugly fuckers like me) get told to fuck off, even by large fatties who think their shit doesn't stink. Boy, I kinda wished MS and the DD's would go to 2004 and do Outkast's "Roses." Perhaps, I'll ask them next time.
After it was all said and done, I drove Hollywood home. And Jay and Amy went their way, with Jay later not getting any sleep and going to work the next morning. I had saw Jay the next day (today as I'm writing this) and he was up for over 32 hours at that time. Fuckin' Hardcore!
Sadly, their was some bad news to this. Since Jason and Amy work at my aunt's restaurant, one of our co-workers told us the news that one of her friends was shot while leaving Comerica Park (home of the Detroit Tigers) and is in critical condition. There was no further details beyond that, and I do hope for the best. That's sad.
It's been a thought lately when a fun day turns to a day of wonder when you hear of news like this, even if you don't know who that person is.
[Later that day...]
No word yet about that unfortunate incident. All one could do is wait and hope for good news.
Going on, I promised myself a movie saturday and I bought TMNT II from Amazon Instant Video, I just got done watching TMNT I and taking a little break while writing this entry into this stupid-assed blog. Yes, my 31-year-old self is watching the TMNT's.
The scene with Splinter and Raphael had reminded me of the 'enemy' of anger. Yes, although Splinter gets a little dramatic about his speech to Raphael (boy, this is getting strange here), it remind me of the art of pointless thinking. I'm the god-damn king of pointless thinking. My head goes to certain places I wish it never would go.
Back in the day, I would be afraid to mention that I have the trouble of dealing with pointless thinking and the anger and frustration that grows along with it while so. The late George Carlin with his HBO special 'Life Is Worth Losing' about how he is a vessel and doesn't ask for these strange thoughts he gets in his head. Even that when it came out in 05 wouldn't push me into confessing.
But, I confess, these silly and odd thoughts get into my head. They come in all shapes and sizes and at random times. At times where I'm dancing and bumping and grinding at a bar, while working on the assembly line trying to keep the line moving with some creepy fuck trying to get my attention (STALKER!!!), while watching a vintage baseball game on a warm Sunday, while taking a long bike ride, while cruising on Lakeshore Drive in the Grosse Pointes while listening to Toto's 'Africa.'
It will always be there.
I'll close with some news from our world:
Zimmerman was found not guilty: http://www.usatoday.com/story/news/nation/2013/07/13/george-zimmerman-found-not-guilty/2514163/
And also, our big Tigers pitcher Max Scherzer picked up his first loss, leaving him at 13-1 (shit happens): http://detroit.cbslocal.com/2013/07/13/scherzer-goes-to-13-1-with-loss-to-rangers/
I hope for good news about our friend of a friend.
And a quote from Splinter:
"You will listen now. My Master Yoshi's first rule was "Possess the right thinking." Only then can one receive the gifts of strength, knowledge, and peace. I have tried to channel your anger, Raphael, but more remains. Anger clouds the mind. Turned inward it is an unconquerable enemy. You are unique among your brothers, for you choose to face this enemy alone. But as you face it, do not forget them, and do not forget me. I am here, my son. "
Thanks to the folks at Hatchy's in Utica, MI (The big owners of this bar are the Hatcher brothers who have previously played in the NHL), myself, Hollywood Allan, long-time pal Jason and my new friend Amy went back into the 90s with this cover band of the said decade Marc Summerz and the Double Darez.
Their first set was some of our 90's alternative faves, including Gin Blossoms' Hey Jealously. The second set was the pop hits, they even did Britney Spears' big hit and I actually enjoyed it better than the original, however, nobody was on the dance floor for Hanson's MmmBop. Not to say that this band did a bad job of it, but I can say that reminded me of how annoying that song was, and it seemed that most people agreed. Their third set was at random, but that I could remember that most of the songs were from the early 90s, including Biz Markie's big hit, and they did 1989 with "Love Shack."
Fred Schinder (did I speel his last name rite) creeps me out. He looks like a pedophile (I can see some angry B-52s fans commenting: "How do you know what a pedophile looks like, huh fag?" or perhaps, "What, did some guy who looked like Fred Schinder molest you?").
Going back to 08, I was a boring mofo and would rarely do things like hitting up a 90's party. Shit, even in 10 (2010) I wouldn't do much of this. But I was on the dance floor, dancing like shit but able to convince a few girls to dance with me. My friend Jason had also danced as well, but like myself, he got denied quite a few times. I guess even good-looking guys like Jay (unlike ugly fuckers like me) get told to fuck off, even by large fatties who think their shit doesn't stink. Boy, I kinda wished MS and the DD's would go to 2004 and do Outkast's "Roses." Perhaps, I'll ask them next time.
After it was all said and done, I drove Hollywood home. And Jay and Amy went their way, with Jay later not getting any sleep and going to work the next morning. I had saw Jay the next day (today as I'm writing this) and he was up for over 32 hours at that time. Fuckin' Hardcore!
Sadly, their was some bad news to this. Since Jason and Amy work at my aunt's restaurant, one of our co-workers told us the news that one of her friends was shot while leaving Comerica Park (home of the Detroit Tigers) and is in critical condition. There was no further details beyond that, and I do hope for the best. That's sad.
It's been a thought lately when a fun day turns to a day of wonder when you hear of news like this, even if you don't know who that person is.
[Later that day...]
No word yet about that unfortunate incident. All one could do is wait and hope for good news.
Going on, I promised myself a movie saturday and I bought TMNT II from Amazon Instant Video, I just got done watching TMNT I and taking a little break while writing this entry into this stupid-assed blog. Yes, my 31-year-old self is watching the TMNT's.
The scene with Splinter and Raphael had reminded me of the 'enemy' of anger. Yes, although Splinter gets a little dramatic about his speech to Raphael (boy, this is getting strange here), it remind me of the art of pointless thinking. I'm the god-damn king of pointless thinking. My head goes to certain places I wish it never would go.
Back in the day, I would be afraid to mention that I have the trouble of dealing with pointless thinking and the anger and frustration that grows along with it while so. The late George Carlin with his HBO special 'Life Is Worth Losing' about how he is a vessel and doesn't ask for these strange thoughts he gets in his head. Even that when it came out in 05 wouldn't push me into confessing.
But, I confess, these silly and odd thoughts get into my head. They come in all shapes and sizes and at random times. At times where I'm dancing and bumping and grinding at a bar, while working on the assembly line trying to keep the line moving with some creepy fuck trying to get my attention (STALKER!!!), while watching a vintage baseball game on a warm Sunday, while taking a long bike ride, while cruising on Lakeshore Drive in the Grosse Pointes while listening to Toto's 'Africa.'
It will always be there.
I'll close with some news from our world:
Zimmerman was found not guilty: http://www.usatoday.com/story/news/nation/2013/07/13/george-zimmerman-found-not-guilty/2514163/
And also, our big Tigers pitcher Max Scherzer picked up his first loss, leaving him at 13-1 (shit happens): http://detroit.cbslocal.com/2013/07/13/scherzer-goes-to-13-1-with-loss-to-rangers/
I hope for good news about our friend of a friend.
And a quote from Splinter:
"You will listen now. My Master Yoshi's first rule was "Possess the right thinking." Only then can one receive the gifts of strength, knowledge, and peace. I have tried to channel your anger, Raphael, but more remains. Anger clouds the mind. Turned inward it is an unconquerable enemy. You are unique among your brothers, for you choose to face this enemy alone. But as you face it, do not forget them, and do not forget me. I am here, my son. "
Friday, July 12, 2013
You done FOOKED up.
I know it's been a while but I've been lazy to tell stories. So, to keep things fresh, unless you haven't seen. This has something to do with the Asiana flight that crashed. These pilots have some interesting names:
I think I'll be ordering chinese at the Fuk Yue resturant.
~ Bang Ding Ow? Fucking funny.
I think I'll be ordering chinese at the Fuk Yue resturant.
~ Bang Ding Ow? Fucking funny.
Sunday, June 23, 2013
I'm always the lucky one.
 |
| Picture used without permission |
So, at around 10:30pm today, I was going to settle in and get started on research of the Prism project so I could write an article. My phone rings and I'm expecting it to be my work to call me in for a few hours (work till 2am for the third shift), instead it's my ex-girl.
My ex-girlfriend has three kids and two are with her ex-husband who has custody of them. She tells me that she needs a ride to court to have her say in the case, and she needs the ride in the early morning hours (not easy for a second-shift guy like myself). I refuse and tell her how I've been put into the dilemma of people calling me for help on a serious matter for the next day or a few hours coming up... hell, even at a moments notice. And, every time, the person asking for help will attempt to make me feel guilty in that tone: "Well, I'll lose custody of my kids." And/or (getting cliched here) they get aggressive, "Fuck you, help me out here."
My ex went with the guilty tone but I refused, I said I won't help. She did agree that it was fucked-up that she is calling her ex-boyfriend for help and said I was the last resort (gee, thanks...). In the end, although her begs and trying to play the guilty card, I still refused and the call ended. It took all the energy out of my research of the prism project for an upcoming article on Hubpages or Helium (likely Hubpages) to going over here to complain.
If I could get a dollar for each time I've been called at a weird time to assist somebody in some kind of delinquent situation that needs me up and early in the morning, I would be a fucking millionaire. I suppose it could be worse, like an immediate family member with a broken-down car needing a ride at 3am with a major snowstorm brewing (had that happen to me before, no grudge there), but it's not that, it's some friend or a distant family member who calls me when I'm sitting down to relax or looking to get a project going, and they need me to get the ball rolling in the morning for a ride to the probation office (or they will go to jail) for example.
Back in 04-06, I had a family member who would put me in that situation a few times. He needed a ride to the drug test center when he was on probation, I would drive him there after making him pay some good gas money (in which he was trying to get away with paying me $2 for a 12-mile trip, I jumped it up to $15 or said, call a Taxi). He also needed me to pick-up his underage girlfriend who was 20 miles away ($30 or no go), that ended with a big argument and he finally called another friend who agreed to pick her up for $5, later telling me that I was an asshole for charging $30. And I do recall a time where I got out of work and wanted to relax, but he wanted to go to a party that was a little far away and he'd give $5 in gas money. I refused and the world was going to end according to him.
The family member I have mentioned as sincerely apologized for what he has done, and I have forgiven him. We are cool now.
However, in my whole life that I can remember, there is two types of people that always come walking in or intruding in my life: the person who thinks I'm trying to screw him or her over, or the friend or somebody who thinks I'm a high power that can fix all their woes (regardless of the idea that I tell them that they are wrong and need to see a psychiatrist).
Currently, the person who believes I'm screwing him over is my father. My mom and dad had divorced when I was around 4, but I kept my fathers last name until I was 20, sometime I left the Army. To make a long story short, my father (as he says) is collecting SSI money and he owes my mother for back child support. Recently, the folks who take care of that (don't know the proper name and don't care really, I don't wish to get into my mom and dads divorce woes starting in 1986) have garnished his SSI and blames me and my family for that. He has sent me Facebook rants about how I'm screwing him over, my mom is screwing him over and everybody in the fucking world is screwing him over. Including the CIA! Why would the CIA be after my father? God only knows...
And the weird fuck this time around is a African-American co-worker. He goes by the name Trinier but I call him Stalker. Each and everyday, Stalker approached me with a smile on his face and wants me to give him a high five. I've publicly humiliated him a few times, notably with the Happy Gilmore prank when he uses the nightstick as his wiener and shoves it in the sleeping guard mouth. Only I did it with a broomstick while he wasn't paying attention. And the next day, "Hey Robbee, want to go to the Red Wings game? I'll buy tickets." It seems that Stalker forgets what happens the previous day, or perhaps denial?
In addition to that, he once said, "If me and you are not friends, THEY will get us." I asked who and he didn't reply. When I asked him the question the second time, I said that the plant manager himself will kill us all (WTF?). He also claims that he molests his newborn child, which is uncomfortable to hear to say the least.
Also, he has stated that he hates it when I call him Stalker and he has accused me of telepathicly insulting him at night. Right now, it's 11:43pm as I type this and he is sitting in his house/apartment or whatever and hears me speak to him (as he thinks). And to go back to him trying to be my friend, when he is temporarily convinced of my denial of friendship (emphasis on the word temporarily), he sometimes plays the race card. "You don't like me because I'm black, isn't it? You fucking racist!"
I'm not going to do this 'I'm not a racist disclaimer' so I'll say this, it doesn't matter if your rich or poor or any color, if your the person who is filling the void of me being the 'savior' and gets pissy when I say no, it's not due to your race or status. I'm not the second incarnation of Jesus Christ and believe it or not the Zombies are not going to come due to me saying no.
One thing Stalker isn't, is a compulsive liar. Usually the person who fills the void of seeing me as the savior is a serious compulsive lair, I have stories from a guy saying he killed two people in Europe, and to get away, he swam across the Atlantic Ocean which took him a few days and even an encounter with Jaws himself in which he over-powered the killer Great White Shark. Yet, just like the compulsive liars, they will call at strange times or even come by quite a lot. And at times, they need me to save them from a shit situation or the following will happen:
Even when they call me past midnight and say they are being chased by an angry black man in a ghetto neighborhood and they need me to pick them up. I ask, "Why don't you call the cops?" he says, "I got coke on me, I can't leave without it." (True story)
Or maybe it's just the weather?
The savior,
Robbee T.
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