Confucius say, "Duh?"

I recently ordered Chinese take-out. And, what's Chinese food without a fortune cookie? (Or, as I call it, a "statement cookie.") Sometimes, the fortunes aren't even logical. Sorry if I sound a bit like Spock, but I can only shake my head when I read, "This instant is the only time there is."
So, sorry to inform you, reader, but since the present is the only time that exists, the past does not. Hence, you're not really reading this blog posting because you weren't born "X" years ago, and I didn't write this, because I wasn't born either; nor can you read this in the present, since it was posted in the past. Heck, 3 words prior to this doesn't even exist because it was passe. I could go on and on, but I'd probably forget what I'm talking about, since my train of thought was formulated a while ago...

Mr. Incredulous say, "That make as much sense as Chinese fortune cookie. Dry and crumbly, and nothing worth reading inside it anyway."

Tech support only. Thinking is optional.

I bought a new computer yesterday. (Old one crashed!) After making the purchase, I brought the machine home and hooked it all up. ...And nothing happened, other than the "On" light flashed. Obviously, something wasn't quite right, so I went back to the store today to make an exchange.
Per store policy, before completing a refund/exchange, tech support must check out the unit in question. OK, no problem, I thought. Mr. IT-- a very green barely college-age dude-- came out and hooked it up. Predictably, nothing happened. IT asked me, "When did you purchase this?"
"Yesterday," I factually replied.
He raised his eyebrows in surprise, as if I told him I was Bill Gates. "Really?!" he pondered.
After removing the cover to the CPU, he made a startling discovery. "Hmm. This mother-board's bad. The whole thing's shot. When did you purchase this??"
A tad more forcefully, I replied, "Yesterday, at about 7:30 PM."
IT turned and called to his buddy, "Hey 'John.' Could you come look at this?"
After a brief consultation, John probed, "You bought this yesterday?"
"Yes,..." I coolly affirmed.
After about 5 more minutes of probing and puzzling, the 2 tekkies gave up and said almost in unison, "Well, I guess that happens from time to time! 'Alexa' will complete your exchange transaction now..."

They have been assimilated. Resistance was futile!

Doesn't Grab the Concept

Like most states, PA has a daily 3-digit number drawn in its lottery. One option, which costs $.50 more, is "boxing" your digits. For example, if you play 3-2-1 and the number drawn is 2-1-3, you still win. Boxing increases your chances, simply put, when you play different digits. The scene is set. On with the story!
Recently, my buddy Pat went into a convenient store to make a soda delivery. A young, unkempt, grubbed-out dude entered the store and asked the clerk for a daily number chance. "Yeah, I wanna play 6-6-6," he drawled, (Pat commented, "Why on earth would you play that number??") "...and BOX it..."
The clerk was a bit taken aback. "Uh, you don't have to box 3 digits that are the same."
Boy Wonder was undaunted. "No, I wanna box it," he determined.

Yep. There goes the future of America.

GPS: Goober Positioning System

I'm on the job today as a soda delivery driver, getting trained by my buddy Pat, he of telecommunications company fame... (Yes, the 2 of us working at the same place of business once again--scary!) We were completing a stop at an area drug store with the address 201 Wyoming Ave. The store sits on the corner of Wyoming and Market St. We were just getting into the cab of the truck when a man holding a hand-held computer pad came walking up to us from Wyoming. He asked me, "Excuse me, but can you tell me where 617 is?"
A rather vague question, I thought to myself. I assumed since he was coming from Wyoming that that was the street he meant. Still, I inquired, "You mean 617 Wyoming?"
"No," he replied. "I'm looking for 617 Market."
Pat stuck his head out the window of the truck and informed the man, "Market is this street intersecting on this side," pointing toward Market Street.
Without even the slightest pause, the lost dude guessed, "That blue building over there is Z & Z Auto parts, right?"
I wasn't as familiar with this neighborhood as Pat, so he shrugged, "I'm not really sure." Then he added, "If you turn right down Market here, you'll go past DWT Pharmacy. That's the 400 block, so you'll go 2 blocks past--"
"Right," interrupted Mr. Clueless. "I'll head down that way. Thanks," he called over his shoulder as he headed back-- toward Wyoming.
I got behind the wheel and Pat and I shared a little snicker. We went around the drug store, and before leaving the parking lot, we saw the Z & Z building (with an address of 102 Market) which was dark slate grey, not blue. As I waited for traffic to clear so I could leave the lot, I noticed the lost guy coming out of the auto parts store, still glancing down at his hand-held, coupled with a look of absolute bewilderment. Oh, yes, and once again walking toward Wyoming.

Why did he even ask??? Thanks, dude, for proving the old stereotype than men don't ask for-- or listen to-- directions.

2nd today: Bizarre Bunny makes Easter special

Our local weekly tabloid, "The Electric City," has a regular feature called "We Asked... You Answered in which the natives are polled about the most ridiculous things. This week's question: "What are the best and worst things you found in your Easter basket?" Enter our wack-o extraordinaire, Cale Orcult!
"The best: A couple of years ago I got a chocolate and vanilla cross. Jesus was white. I bit the head off it."

Say WHAT? Ah, yes, the old Anglo-Saxon Jesus rears his vanilla head once again, and is subsequently decapitated by Cale's teeth...

Continuing: "The worst (was when) the Easter Bunny left me some Easter pellets in my basket."
Dude, you've got some seriously twisted "friends." Raisinettes, anyone???

Yet another criminal mastermind

Nothing like drawing undue attention to yourself!!! This is simply too funny. Here's a guy who stood on a busy corner with a huge sign, calling out to any and all passers-by. And then he asks the local media to film him in action! "Oops, he did it again!"
How on earth do you expect to put yourself in the limelight and yet remain hidden from Big Brother? If Mr. DeHart is so willing to show his (lack of) mental capacities, I don't suppose one could put much confidence in the quality of his contracting work either... Hence his predicament...

Thanks, Johnny Boy, for aiding the long arm of the law, even though it didn't happen the way you had hoped! You win the Doofus of the Day grand prize, a one-way ticket to the Philadelphia city jail! Enjoy your accommodations.

2nd today: What's better than VD?

A local hard-rock band named Cyphilis-- yes, that's right-- has (finally) come under a lot of flack from family advocacy groups for indirectly promoting rampant sexual activity, resulting in grotesque illnesses. Now, I'm not sure why this band got singled out when you have groups out there with names like Disturbed, Slayer, Napalm Death, etc., but nonetheless... Soooo, in order to appeal to their distorted fans as well as the extreme right, they put out a quarter-page ad in the local weekly tabloid...
"Cyphilis... Soon to be renamed Spit Can."

Ah, yes, an unsanitary vessel used with the unhealthy and disgusting habit of chewing tobacco is such a gigantic improvement!!!

Bodman Boiled in Oil

As gasoline prices skyrocket, the media duly feeds the frenzy of P.O'd consumers by painting a distorted picture of greed-driven conspiracy theories and economic manipulation beyond global proportion. Looking for a fall guy, they center their attention on the evil mastermind of it all, US Secretary of Energy Samuel Bodman. The press are the puppet masters which so keenly take the most minute detail and make it blow up in their victims' faces, portraying absolute, incomparable idiocy. With all that said, (and apologies for sounding so much like sierra from Cloud of Idiot Gas) I have to admit my funny bone is effectively stricken at times by the national news force... Enter Dr. Bodman, drawling on in a very monotone voice...
"If there was a magic wand I could wave to cause the prices of gas to go down, uh, there isn't one,...."

Memo to Dr. Bodman, from the linguistics department of every institution of higher learning in the Northern Hemisphere: When beginning a statement with the word "If," a "Then" must follow!

...And you're a retail manager??

I'm enjoying my new job as a beverage delivery driver. There ARE the occasional moments of stupidity, however...
Today, my trainer "Jerry" and I stopped at a chain drug store. Jerry warned me that the manager here wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed. We looked at the invoice, and saw they were only receiving a single case of 2-liters. (In case you didn't know, 2-L's always come in cases of 8 each, which is very plain to see.) We saw the manager, and she went to check in the miniscule order. This store checks in everything by piece count instead of case count. She entered in the case with her scan gun, paused, and asked us, "OK, how many pieces?"

A multi-billion dollar company, and you can't effectively check in one single case??
Boy, I'd hate to see the books this place keeps...

Too close for discomfort

I went to the grocery store after work to pick up a couple of things today. I got into a checkout line behind an elderly man, holding (literally) 4 items. As I patiently waited for the gentleman to have his order completed, I felt a bump at the back of my legs. I turned around to find a biker chick smugly jamming her cart into my calves. I shot her a firm, but polite look which said, "Could I please have a bit of room?"
Obviously, telepathy was not her strong suit.
I moved up 1 step as the gentleman in front of me prepared to pay, and meanwhile, I was getting 2-liters and boxes of spaghetti jammed into the small of my back. Without turning around, I pointedly called, "You're excused!" The comment was only met with a snicker and a snort. Finally, I was able to move up as the man in front exited the lane. No sooner had I done so when I noticed pressure put on the backs of my heels. I turned around and was nose-to-nose with Lulu.
I said, with much resignation, "Would you please give me some personal space here!?" Acting like I just told her I was wearing a time-bomb, she backed off one small step.
When the cashier finished with my order, I grabbed the receipt and was dismissed by Mrs. Harley with a sarcastic, "Have a wonderful day!"

OK, chickie-boo, if your goal is to see how many people you can thoroughly irritate, you've successfully added me to your list. Now go away.

A routine day on the job

Today was my first day as a driver for a beverage distributor. Going through my invoices, I spotted a delivery for the "Bear Creek Camp," I place I had never even heard of before. Turns out there's a good reason why.
After a long drive, I finally found the sign for the camp, and turned into the driveway. ...A very long, earthen red clay driveway. ...Extending deep into the forest... ...Through state hunting lands... Thoughts of "The Hills Have Eyes" and the "Blair Witch Project" ran through my mind. The trail twisted on and on and on through the thick woods for THREE MILES. This was indeed going to be a very unusual stop. After 3 long miles, a wood-carved overhead sign appeared. "Welcome to Bear Creek Camp," it read, giving me hope that this place can't possibly be any more remote. I was wrong.
After yet another mile's journey, I finally saw a large building in a slight clearing. A clean shaven man with a strange, foreign look in his eye--similar to Professor Okin's on "Independence Day"-- met me to show me where to place the cases of soda. He led me into the main building's dining area (across the road from a small shed-like building called "The Cubic Yard") and said in a creepy voice, "Here's the cooler. You can put them in theeeeere..." Nightmares about being shut up in a walk-in flashed through my thoughts.
The delivery now complete, I handed the invoice to the man to sign. His signature read, "Benth." ...Huh? Was that a code name for Jeffrey Dahmer??? I got into the truck, and even though the path was rough and dusty, I flew out there as fast as I could, yearning to make it back to civilization with haste. Finally, the overhead sign appeared, and on the back was carved, "Thanks for visiting us! Come back again! Tell a friend about us!" Alright, I'll tell others about you.
...If you're visiting Northeastern PA, don't EVER go to a place called "Bear Creek Camp," unless you enjoy living out horror films!

So concluded my first day on the job. I wonder what tomorrow will hold!

The blind leading... nobody

Well, my term of service at the uniform distribution center is complete. Friday was my last day, and I had to spend a large part of the day in "exit interviews." (This whole concept makes no sense to me whatsoever-- you're forcing your labor costs up by taking a resigning employee off the floor, creating more work for your co-employees? Why not just sign some paperwork and be done with it?)
The brand spanking-new, quite green plant manager, "Alice," asked me my primary reason(s) for leaving. I responded, "The greatest reason was the abysmal 84% customer service rating on trim application." (Click link to see that post.)
A puzzled look crossed Alice's face. "That was your primary reason for leaving? I don't understand." I (never took a college class on business administration) decided to explain this indicator to a graduate with an MBA in Business Admin.
"Think about it. 16% of our customers are unsatisfied with how the uniforms look?" Alice didn't get it. "I still don't see why you think that's such a big deal."
I educated, "If you just grab a garment out of a box and give it to someone, it's just a shirt or a pair of pants. When you place the emblems on it, it becomes a uniform. The emblems are the central focus of the uniform."
Alice still was confused. "I don't understand why you think the company position is that that's acceptable."
I said, "These were Jan's exact words," relaying the story of our morning update March 21st. "You think that's acceptable?"
Now Alice put on a defiant complexion. "Well, let me tell you, the truth is that's 84% 'meets expectations' and 16% opportunity..."
(Don't use your business buzzwords with me, lady! I'm not here to play Bingo!)
I had had enough of trying to describe--logically--why this is a bad precursor. "You can sugar-coat it all you want. Bottom line, it's 16% failure to please the customer, and NO corporation can survive like that, especially when it's considered 'not bad!'"

The funny thing about this whole exchange is that afterward, I was considered the bad guy, and was asked to leave as soon as the interview was over. I retorted, "No, I'm staying until the end of the day, because I told everyone I'd be here, and I'm a man of my word. Why should I create more work for my partners by not being here?" Alice, quite grudgingly, allowed me to stay.

Well, excuuuuuuuse me for trying to help your organization by crying out against complacency!

Tom Cruise IS nuts, chapter 2

My wife and I watched the Diane Sawyer interview with the Cruiser last night. I had been eagerly looking forward to it because I figured I'd have lots of fodder for this blog. On the whole, I was left disappointed. The only thing "stupid" that Tommy Boy said was in regards to his "faith" of Scientology. Now, I'm not going to delve into a whole explanation about Dianetics or anything--you can find all that info online. However, Tom (who is very close to reaching the top goal of becoming a "thetan," or "enlightened spirit") contradicted himself most severely, which I find rather odd, since he's pretty much the frontman for the CoS. His quote, when asked about Katie's Catholic background:
"You can be a Catholic and a Scientologist. You can be Jewish and a Scientologist. We're just Scientologists."
NOT SO! This is what the CoS says regarding their official position on "mixed faith":
["Do not engage in any rite, ceremony, practice, exercise, meditation, diet, food therapy or any similar occult, mystical, religious, naturopathic, homeopathic, chiropractic treatment or any other healing or mental therapy while on course without the express permission of the D of T, Case Supervisor and Ethics Officer." -L. Ron Hubbard, HCOPL 15 Dec. 1976R. Rev 25 July 1987.]
Catholicism is one of the most litugical of all religions, requiring much diligence and attention to specific prayers, rites and services. (I'm not criticizing it; just noting that the two faiths are incompatible!)
Well, Tom does have an "out," so we can discover.
"Now you say you have to absolutely truthful. Sincerity is the main thing, and truthfulness is the main thing and don't lie to anybody … and you'll get ahead. Brother you sure will. You'll get ahead right on that cycle of action, right toward zero! It's a trap not being able to prevaricate … This makes life more colorful!"
-L. Ron Hubbard, Philadelphia Doctorate Course Lecture

Great. Nothing like devotion to a belief system that's not believable!
*Please note that I am NOT "slamming" Scientology--just noting the obvious that there exists contradictions within the CoS in which Tom Cruise has become entrapped in. The reader should NOT assume that I am casting judgment upon a Scientologist.

2nd today: Well, it IS Lent, after all...

Normally, I don't blog statements made by my family members, but my wife gave me permission to use this one!

This evening, my wife was going through the cupboards and came across 2 jars of Gerber's meat sticks. They kind of resemble miniature hot dogs soaked in formaldehyde. (Memories of 10th grade biology class!) When my youngest, now 26 months old, was learning to feed himself, we tried these, but he didn't care for them. The visual comparison was a bit different to my wife, however. "I guess I might as well throw out these meat sticks. They just look like little hoo-ha's in a jar anyway!"

No polish sausage for you this Easter Sunday, honey!

Unfortunate acronym

Our local news station, WNEP-16, tonight reported on a nearby county putting together an emergency response effort to help rescue animals displaced by natural disasters, citing the huge loss of pets in NC during Hurricane Floyd a couple of years back. The organization formed is looking for volunteers to work with them. The name: SART, which stands for "State Animal Response Team."
Boy, am I glad it was state and not federal.

Could you imagine? "Hi, I'm John, and I'm with FART!"

Kick 'em while they're down!

Before divulging this little tale, I must pass on the news that I am starting a new job on Monday, THANK THE LORD! Therefore, I must go other places for my (nearly) daily dose of stupidity. Bart, R. I. P.
We have been working boucoup overtime lately, due to the fact that we have more orders coming in than we can ship out. On a normal day, our facility ships out about 22,000 garments. On a really good day, we can put out about 27,000. Our order backlog has climbed up to 46,000 pieces, and our bosses have been working us to death the past couple of days. This morning at our update, our plant manager reported that we shipped out 29,500 pieces Wednesday, but our backlog had only gone down by 700 garments. The PM then puffed out his chest and said, "We're going to have to pick up the pace if we're going to get this backlog down, people..."

Gee, thanks loads for your inspiring back-lashing. I'll fondly remember the psychological beatings... And the stupidity... And the appalling lack of quality leadership... And yes, maybe even Bart. ...A little...

Oh, you MUST be joking.

As a home educator, my wife often receives many product and service offers from numerous educational companies via the mail. Yesterday, a huge packet filled with 3x5 cards toting the latest from these organizations was delivered. I began to sift through the cards, separating offers which may someday be of interest to us from complete junk. I got a gigantic laugh out of how pathetic some of these "latest and greatest" items truly were, as they seek to dominate the Christian sub-culture scene. (My wife and I call this "marketing Jesus.") One card in particular made me shake my head in complete bewilderment. It featured a book by Vision Publishers, and it read:
IMMODESTY and what to do about it.
*Break free from the endless trap of the fashion world!
*Be informed about what the Bible has to say about personal appearance.
*Study questions make this a great book for self-guided Bible study!
The book title: "What Shall the Redeemed Wear? An in-depth look at what the Bible says about appearance, with study questions! 'You're not wearing that are you...?!'"

Oh, yes, by all means, PLEASE, let's add legalism and the Christianese liguistics to plain common sense, because apparently, the obvious isn't enough! What a sad, sad commentary on the dumbing down of America-- even as a direct result of the Church!

Beware. Stupidity is everywhere!

Oops, wrong number! ...I guess!

Today, the phone rang. Using the caller ID, Mish-mash mousse noticed it was an unfamiliar out-of-state number. (Being that the people who had our phone # before us are still using it to fraudulently to run up all sorts of crazy credit card charges, we recorded a message to let people know we are not "the Campolietos.")
RECORDING: Hello, and thank you for calling the Incredulous family. The Incredulous family is not at home, so if you'd like to leave a message for the Incredulouses, please do so after the beep. If you are not calling for the Incredulouses, you have the wrong number, but please feel free to leave your message if you ARE trying to reach the Incredulous family. *beep!*
MESSAGE, enthusiastic voice: Hi! It's me, Linda! How are you guys? I'm not trying to reach the Incredulouses, so sorry to bother you! *click*
Well, at least she was polite and good-natured about it, but if you got an answering machine message, and it was someone other than who you're looking to speak to, wouldn't you just hang up?

Thanks for the chuckle, Linda, all the same.

A HUD dud

As I have mentioned before, we live in (federal) public housing, which is operated by HUD (Housing and Urban Development) standards. ...For the most part...
One of the requirements of our tenure is that we must be inspected by our housing manager twice each year, to ensure we are living in and maintaining a safe, clean environment. Our first inspection was this past Tuesday. Our manager, "Doris," came into our place with a chip on her shoulder for reasons unbeknownst to us, and quickly looked for anything to fault us on. (Now, keep in mind that prior to our moving in, Doris did a walk-through with us, noting any and all problems or short-comings before we took up residence.) The tenants before us had installed an odd extension wire for the dryer outlet, which was not affixed to or within the laundry room wall, and Doris had documented that. However, on Tuesday, she acted as if she had never before seen the outlet configuration the way it was.
"Aye-yi-yi! You can't have this like this. It has to be attached to the wall!" she jabbed. My wife (Mish-mash mousse) reminded her that she had viewed this before, and that it was maintenance's responsibility to fix it.
Doris: "They might not be able to fix this, and if they can't they'll take your dryer."
MMM: "They can't take MY dryer!"
D, defiantly: "Well, your husband's going to have to affix this to the wall." MMM: "Wait. You're telling me maintenance can't do it, but my husband, who's NOT an electrician, can??"
D: "It's easy. Just get some T-hooks (What the hey are those?) and put them through the wire."
MMM: Put a hook through a wire? Are you insane?
D, dumbfounded: "Well, turn off all the electricity first!"
MMM, resigned: "Well, where exactly should he mount it?"
D, grabbing the outlet box: "Right here, next to the washer drain." MMM: "We're not gonna do that! You've got free-flowing water right there!!!
D, after a brief, pseudo-thoughtful pause: "...Oh, yeah, I guess that probably wouldn't be too good there..."

Yeah, a housing manager who A) doesn't have a clue; B) offers "expert" advise on matters she knows nothing about; and C) expects her tenants to take care of everything while she takes responsibility for nothing.
LOOOOOOOO-SER!!!

And the Darwin goes to...

Thanks to "Dr. Dad" (aka my father) for relaying this to me...
As I have mentioned on my profile, I have created the "Stupies," awarded to purveyors of extreme stupidity. Dr. Dad has notified me that there IS actually an "official" award given for terminal lackus intellectualus-- the Darwins. These are awarded every year to the person(s) who died in the most stupid manner, "thereby removing themselves from the gene pool." I will type this verbatim, as provided by the aforementioned Dr. Dad.
Two (local) men were injured when their pickup truck left the road and struck a tree. The sheriff's deputy who reported the accident said that Thurston Poole, 33, and Billy Ray Wallis, 38, [Sounds like a pair of characters from Hee-Haw!] were returning home after a frog gigging trip [What the royal stink is THAT?]on an overcast night. Poole's pickup truck's lights malfunctioned. The 2 men concluded that the headlight fuse on the older-model truck had burned out. As a replacement fuse was not available, Wallis noticed that the .22 caliber bullet from his pistol fit perfectly into the fuse box next to the steering wheel. Upon inserting the bullet, the headlights again began to operate properly. After traveling approximately 20 miles, the bullet apparently overheated, discharged, and struck Poole in the testicles. The vehicle swerved, exited the pavement, and struck a tree. Poole suffered only minor cuts and bruises, but will require extensive surgery to repair the damage to his testicles, which will never again operate as intended. [TMI!!!]
(Though Poole and Wallis did not die as a result of their misadventure-- as normally required by Darwin Award rules, it can be argued that Poole DID, in fact, effectively remove himself from the gene pool.)

Too stinkin' funny! Except maybe to "Mr." Poole, essentially now a neo-eunuch.
Thanks for the great laugh, Dr. Dad!

Wanted: Anatomy refresher course

Yesterday, my mother-in-law was having a telephone conversation with her sister, "Midge." Mom was telling Midge, a retired Episcopalian priest, what was new in our neck of the woods. My wife came up in conversation. Mom noted, "(Mish-mash mousse) is taking some courses at Mt. Martha College* to work toward graduate credits with her teaching certificate."
Midge was impressed. "Wow, that's great. I'm really proud of her. I'm glad she has the balls to do that."
Mom paused, somewhat stunned, and said, "Um, actually, no, she doesn't!"

Now, THAT'S taking things literal!
*Name of college changed. Just 'cause I felt like it.

Learning from others' mistakes

As a public service, I, Mr. Incredulous, would like to address a potentially serious problem that you can avoid by NOT following the sad but true example of an acquaintance of mine...
A few years ago, "Doug" was making home-made salsa. He used to grow the chili peppers and tomatoes in his own garden, and upon harvesting them, he'd finely chop them all up, can them, and save some, while giving jars of his creation to many of his friends. One day, Doug was chopping away at some chilis, when suddenly he felt nature's call. That's right, dear friends, his bladder had reached the point of no return. Without a second thought, Doug went into the bathroom. Moments later, he emerged, wincing and bending in excruciating pain. His wife asked, "What's the matter?"
Between gasps of breath, Doug replies, "...Forgot to wash my hands!!!"
DON'T let salsa come between your hands and... er, you!

......WHY???

I was doing my weekly grocery shopping in Wal-mart this morning, and I suddenly heard a middle-aged man call to (assummably) his wife, "Hold on, dear. I've got to go back over to Home and Garden to buy a bag of squirrel food."

BUY squirrel food? Fer cryin' in the sink, squirrels eat GARBAGE. Why are you wasting money on a bag of food for them?

BUY squirrel food?? Dude, squirrels eat garbage and spread it all around. Why are you encouraging them to make a mess that I can only guess your wife will have to clean up?

BUY squirrel food??? Great, let's have a horde of noisy, disease-carrying rodents scampering around your neighborhood. That's sure to buy you friends!

Not a good product. Even a dumber consumer.
(Sorry, PerpChoc, but I think one's better off sticking with the salt-free nuts!)