Yo quiero mi trabajo!

Attention, readers. I am about to reveal my own personal opinion about the immigration issue. Please, no nasty comments, as it IS simply my opinion. If you disagree, fine. You're entitled toy YOUR opinion. The reason I place this on my blog is because of the senseless lack of logic behind the focal statement...
I'm all for people of other races, creeds and nationalities having a chance to work in the US and provide for their families... IF... They go about it the right way! You come into the States with your visa to work, fine. You want to stay-- you go through the proper channels, and you take ACTIVE steps to become a US citizen! The "Day Without Immigrants" was a ridiculous and irresponsible excuse to manipulate the general populace of our country, and the following link, http://news.yahoo.com/news?tmpl=story&ncid=1778&e=2&u=/060502/ids_photos_ts/r2048252209.jpg proves it.

Oh, no! Expel the illegals, and all the Taco Bells will shut down!!! What will I do when I want my Southwestern cuisine fix???
To reiterate: I am NOT a xenophobe! Just don't come into my country illegally and take my job away from me!!!

American politics 101

A full-page flier showed up in my mailbox today. It was from our local (Republican) congressman looking for votes to be re-elected... For my international readers, bear with me while I define our mess of a congressional system.
The two main political parties in the USA are Republicans and Democrats. Typically, Democrats are liberal in their views and agenda while Republicans tend to be conservative. With that said, I will now type what Congressman Sherman* printed...
"VOTER ALERT! Republican Voters Beware! ...Liberal Senator Ted Kennedy-- NOT a Republican!"
Oh, reeeeeeeally? I didn't know that!
"Democrat Party Chairman Howard Dean-- NOT a Republican!"
Yeah, OK, I get the point. Republican, Democrat. Got it. Why are you wasting ink and killing trees to tell me what I already know?

Would-be politician alert! Your insulting my intelligence will NOT earn you my vote!
*Name changed to spare said governmental figure head further embarrassment.

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!)

You've got scam! I mean, spam! Er, MAIL!

Credits for this piece go to Chuck Shepard from News of the Weird, published by United Press Syndicate. It is printed word-for-word, and to go on record, I do not claim any originality of my own. Except, as "Kelso" would put it, the BUUUUUUUUURN at the end!

Prominent neuroscientist Louis A. Gottschalk, still professionally active at age 89, lost about $3 million of his family trust over a 10-year period to Nigerian e-mail scammers, according to his son, who wants an Orange County, CA, judge to remove his father as the estate's administrator. In fact, Dr. Gottschalk has continued to pay money on another scam because the new recipients are "different Nigerians," according to the son's description of a conversation with his father.

Actually, I really have nothing to add to this. All that comes to mind is the old adage, "Once a sucker, always a sucker."

Confirmed: Tom Cruise IS nuts (.com!)

The world is about to be "blessed" by the birth of, as the tabs are calling it, "TomKitten." What never ceases to amaze me is how unrealistic, unsympathetic and illogical Tom continues to be when it comes to the birthing process. The latest news, from the Cruise's PR gal, is that Mr. Scientology, out of the kindness of his heart, bought Katie an iPod, featuring 300 of her favorite (relaxing) tunes so that she can listen to them during her intense contractions and labor. One catch: she MUST have the headphones on, and the volume must be low, so as to not disturb the audible sterility of the room while the baby enters the world!
Now, I have a couple of things to say. First, I have stood by my wife for the births of our 3 children. She didn't scream and moan, and was relatively peaceful during the births, but my no means was she silent! I know that's part of the process. After all, you're pushing a human out of your body! Anybody who attempts to dictate to women that there's no reason for noise or stress during labor just plain doesn't get it.
Second, I highly doubt that Katie's going to want headphones jammed in her ears while every muscle, capillary and pore strain against the forces of nature. My wife's mindset was simply, "Let's get this done!"
Finally: remember, scientology was created, and is supported by delusional men. Men obviously don't know the first thing about child birth, other than it's something women do. To ask a woman to be completely silent during this time is unfair and just plain wrong. What I think is that Katie should be allowed to have a long rod by her bed-side. Then, every time a contraction hits, she should pick up the rod and strike Tom in the genitalia. Let's see if HE could keep quiet under such duress!

To use the language of Star Trek, quite obviously, Tom's neural net has shorted out! Perhaps what he really, really needs is a good shrink! (Even though they're "evil!")

American "I Dull"

For those of you who keep up with the hit reality series on FOX, "American Idol," you know that the contestants are quite diverse. You have the street dude, Eliot; the young prodigy, Paris; the struggling actor, Ace; the rocker, Chris; and of course, who can forget the airhead, Kelly!
Kelly Pickler is a young, backwards, poster-girl hick who, up until this competition, has never been outside her little mountain community, nestled in the hills of Western NC. And boy, does it show!
A couple of weeks ago, she sang a country rendition of an old 50's song. (Though I despise country, she did fairly well with it!) The judges raved, and Simon Cowell called her performance "Sultry and ballsy," to which Kelly loudly drawled,
"What's a 'ballsy'?"

Two weeks earlier, Simon, who obviously has a major infatuation with the gal, called her "A naughty little mink," and Pickler repeatedly asked, "What's a minks??"

I sure hope she sticks to singing and never attempts songwriting!

BTW, Kelly is the tabbed favorite contestant by www.votefortheworst.com, which says a lot.

Cat "arrested" while owner continues gross negligence

Oh, come ON. Yet more proof at the ineptitudeness of American government on all levels.

You mean to tell me you've put this menacing cat (who, all joking aside, is causing great bodily harm and risk) under "house arrest," and the owner still hasn't taken this beast for a declawing and distemper shots? WHO should be the one penalized here? Right now, due to the boneheads at city hall, the residents of Fairfield, CT are!

I wonder-- when served the summons from animal control, did "Lewis" shred the warrant?

Service with a brain seizure

As I mentioned before on this blog, buffet restaurants are such a mixed blessing...

This evening, my family and I treated ourselves to dinner out (The state tax refund came in!) and we went to the buffet, mainly because we know everybody, including our finicky kids, will eat a good meal. My wife went up to the food bar to fill her plate, when she spotted a pre-teen with a plateful ahead of her. The boy had just finished getting an item when one of the food-prep servers (who, BTW, had a major shag do and no hairnet!) walked up with an apathetic swagger and knocked the plate, which was sitting on the edge of the bar counter, onto the floor. Food was everywhere. The slow-witted adolescent looked down at the pile on his feet and the floor and mumbled, "Oops. Did I just do that?"
The stunned customer doted, "Yeah..."
Server looks down again, then at the kid. "Did you just put that food on there?"
"Yeah!" the agitated consumer stated.
Server looks down, slowly bends over and grabs a large piece of steak in his bare hands. "Was this your meat?"
"Yes!"
Moment of silence. Then server, with meat still in his paw, drawls, "Uh, were you done with that?"

No, now that you've blessed it with your grubby touch, I'm gonna take it to my table and eat it!

I was SO glad I had already gotten all my food before this incident...

Eternally pregnant, 2006-style

My wife and I shared a chuckle as we poured over the coupons in Sunday's paper. We spotted an ad/promotion for Similac. (For those not in the know, that's baby formula.) In big bold green letters (set against a pink background--hideous!!) it reads, "Mom's $130K Payday! You could win $130,000! ...A recent study [by Salary.com] showed that a mom's salary should be about $130,000 US. (Kris, you'd be agreeable to that, wouldn't you?) Enter for your chance to win..."

The contest sounds great! It really draws your interest, UNTIL... Yep, gotta read the fine print.
"Open to mothers of the 50 U.S. or D.C. 18 or older who are mothers of children 12 months or younger (Oh, crap!) or expectant mothers whole child is due within 10 months."

OK, last time I checked, 40 weeks equals 9 months, and one usually doesn't know she is pregnant until well after gestation, most likely 1 month along at the very least. If you need to wait 44 weeks from that point, you are long overdue for a much needed C-section!!!

The few. The proud. The really, really old.

It appears that American military intelligence shortcomings are not just limited to the CIA. Somebody in the recruiting department of the U.S. Marines also has suffered from a case of brain flaccidity.

Hmm. Unique language skills? Maybe said recruiter thought "old people noises" was a whole new form of linguistic communication.
Could you picture boot camp for this lady? The drill sergeant would yell, "Toss that walker, private! Drop and give me 30!!!"

"Seventy-eight is too old, obviously." Gee, I guess it's a good thing the USMC didn't try to recruit that 100-year-old L.A. transit worker who just retired! Let's not sign up somebody with a strong work ethic!

Unorganizational skills

An acquaintance of my wife and I has been attempting to head up a fly-by-night homeschool support group the past couple of years. While big on ideas and dreams, "Charlotte" is extremely challenged when it comes to matters of practicality. She even conveys her plans of grandeur via a bulk E-mail list, of which we were, until this week, a part of. Charlotte has tried to plan special speakers, field trips and general support sessions-- mostly in her home, which I'm sorry to say, isn't exactly the cleanest spot on earth-- that are very poorly attended. She begs for responses and feedbacks in her E-mailings, but all indications point to this plea falling on deaf ears.
The straw that broke the back was in her last contact. "I've continued to pour my heart and soul into planning these events, but they haven't panned out. Therefore, we (Who's we?) will be holding our next support meeting in the fellowship hall of the Gray Roof Church of God* this Thursday evening, since no one comes."

Ummmm.... HUH? You're going to tie up a church's fellowship hall for... Yourself? Sure, I guess that makes sense. What better place to plan a happening that nobody attends than in a church?

*Name of church changed. Any similarity between this posting and a real church's alibi is purely coincidental!

Wow. This took some GALL!

Over the course of the past 3 weeks or so, I and the others in my department at work (Al, Sam and Joe) have gotten completely fed up with our counterpart-- or, should I say, useless part-- Bart. He is everything a team player is not. He never aids anyone else with their tasks, even when asked; he purposely does things to make work harder for the rest of us; and, he's as lazy as all get out, milking time and tasks for all they're worth. (Problem is, he gets away with it, because somehow, he's become Jan's little pet, and can do no wrong.) When one of us ask for a hand from Bart, he arrogantly replies, "I'm busy" or "I've got stuff to do." Today, we agreed as a group to exercise the law of returns upon our redneck rebel.
We staged a strike of sorts: no matter how busy Bart got, none of us would offer assistance. Today, Bart was working on the shipping line. Normally speaking, the person who is pulling boxes from the back to relay to the stocker would be the one who lends a hand to the shipper. Sam was in that role today. Apparently, right before our morning break, Bart got hammered with a heavy workload. After the bell for break rang, Bart, Sam, Joe and Al all headed outside for a smoke. Indignantly, Bart approached Sam and asked, "Are you pulling today?"
Sam informed him, "Yes."
Bart then mustered up his moxie (although that's not the word I would use, but for the sake of the readership...) and ranted, "You're supposed to come up and help me!"

Talk about the pot calling the kettle black!
Oh, yeah, "I'm busy!"

Where Would Jesus Be Deported To?

When I got home from work and logged on, this crazy news story from AOL greeted me...

Now, I'm formerly an ordained minister, and am quite well-learned in regards to Bible passages, customs, traditions and history; so, I'm sorry, Hil, but I fail to see the correlation between Jesus and the Immigration and Naturalization Service. Jesus grew up under the rule of a foreign world power and traveled only between Roman provinces. The US has a border patrol, concerns with national security, regulations regarding visas, green cards, et. al. The Good Samaritan also traveled along a route well known and used by Jew and Samaritan alike.
Plainly, this is one reason why politics and religion don't mix.

Although "Dubya" has unleashed many verbal blunders of his own, (and where I once was one of his staunch supporters-- no more) this faux pas makes it clear to me that Ms. Clinton would NOT be a fitting candidate for President. Hopefully, saner minds will prevail.

Weather buffoons

While the Weather Channel does provide much information about weather trends, conditions, forecasting, etc., they are obviously NOT experts in the use of the English language.

This morning's "Local on the 8's" was as follows:

Today: Partly cloudy skies giving way to clouds in the afternoon.

Say what? Clouds yielding to clouds?

Aaaaaaand... My old fave, Tom Clark, chief meteorologist for WNEP-16 last night described today's forecast as "brisky."

Keep up the great work, Tom, and watch out for "partly coudy" days.

Fresh-brewed stupidity first thing in the morning

Every morning at work, we start by having an update on our numbers, the daily attack plan, etc... This morning's intelligence deficiency occurred in two parts, just seconds from each other, as Jan covered our quarterly Customer Satisfaction Index. Our clients had provided us with feedback and conveyed how many of them were pleased with the products and services we gave them. Most areas were good...
"Correct garments received, 99.6%... Packaging, 92.8%..."
Then, I was flabbergasted when Jan unleashed the next statistic having to do with emblems being placed on the shirts in the correct spot and with the durability required by the customers.
"Trim application, 84.1%. Not bad," she quipped.

NOT BAD? You mean to tell me that a whopping 16% of our garments either had the emblems in the wrong place, or weren't fastened correctly? And that's GOOD??? Boy, have we let our standards slide or what!

Following the indicator of eventual corporate doom, "Cathy," one of the ladies in special operations (the department that applies the emblems) raised her hand and asked, "Excuse me, Jan, but what's 'Trim Application'?" I gawked at her incredulously, and then audibly heard my thoughts from our auditor, "Margie."

"It's what you do ALL day!!!" she blurted.

I lost it, burying my head in my hands to conceal my laughter.

Not a good tone by which to set the rest of the day to, is it?

2nd today:I laughed SO hard

I don't watch NBC's "Scrubs," but after viewing the following promo, I just might!

VOICE-OVER: Thursday on NBC, an all-new "Scrubs!" The ER has a new mascot!
DOCTOR: It's a hypodermic needle. Say hello to friendly Mr. Prick! (deep, thoughtful pause) Uh, ...We should probably change the name...

Yes, I know-- intentionally stupid. And hilarious!!!
I'm going to hell now, aren't I?

Numbskull newsmen at work

Today, WNEP-16 (local ABC affiliate) led off their newscast with the story of a fire that destroyed a home, leaving 2 families homeless.
STUPIDITY TANGENT: When interviewed, one of the victims had this to say about his experience...
"I woke up and my neighbor was pounding on the door yelling, 'Fire!', and I didn't know what was going on. So I run downstairs and went outside, and as I went through the front doorway, I see this wall of flames just to my right, and I'm like, (in a Mr. Bill voice) 'Oh, no!'"

Lemme tell you, if I exited a building and a raging inferno was inches from me, I wouldn't be thinking, Oh, no!I'd be thinking, Oh, ________!!!!!!!!!"

ANYHOO, the true stupidity shone through when reporter Bob Reynolds questioned the neighbor across the street. Seems he had a security camera on his front porch, and captured an arsonist in action...
MAN: I gave the police the tape, and I'm glad it's in their hands now. I hope they catch this guy.
REYNOLDS: And why is that?
MAN, after a double-take,incredulously: For the safety of the community, of course.

Of course, what this man really wanted to say was, "What, are you a complete doofus, Bob?"

Even more pointless advertising

A local dining establishment apparently struggled with the script submitted to area radio stations, and evidently couldn't think up a good slogan. So, of course, the stations produced it exactly as it was written...

"Remember, at Marvelous Muggs, it's ALWAYS time to eat!"

Time to eat? Oh, rats, I thought you actually sold marvelous mugs! I was looking for a souvenir, darn it all!

This is NOT stupid. Only amazing!

I'm taking a break today from stupidity to post an incredible story I just read.

Please take the time to read this story. It is certainly great to know there are still decent, thoughtful, caring people on this little speck of dust we call Earth.

Notice the key phrase in this tale: "I didn't need it." The good feeling to help someone in need certainly is unequivocal. I know many of us don't have a grand laying around, but ask yourself...
"What can I do to touch someone else today?"

So what exactly IS your type?

Earlier this week, my wife (mish-mash mousse) had an appointment with our housing site manager to recertify for another year. (If you don't know, we live in federal housing, but hey! It's OK. It's quiet, clean and we have a roof over our heads.) Our manager, "Doris," is a crass, miserable, rude, relatively unattractive middle-aged gal who smokes like a chimney, never smiles and doesn't give a care about anything, except to hate everything. By her own admission, she hates children, cats, and oh yeah, people on the whole. This confession has been made repeatedly to almost everyone she encounters. (I don't hate people; I just think that many need to get a clue and stop being so stupid!)
During the re-cert process, which was overseen by a county assistant, "Jill," Doris needed to verify information on our food stamp amount, and asked MMM who to contact at the county assistance office...

MMM: Well, good luck getting a hold of him. He never answers his phone and he seldom returns written correspondence.
D: Oh, is that "Larimie"?
MMM: No, it's "Norris."
D: It's too bad it's not Larimie. Everyone likes Larimie! You'd like him! He's always after me to go out with him. He works out, and he's a real sharp dresser. Yeah, he's a real hottie. He looks just like George Clooney. You know, he keeps asking me out, but he's just not my type.

Yeah, like you're truly that lucky.

Jill, who personally knows most of the employees in the assistance office, retorted, "So, have you told him that yet?"
Mish-mash had a most difficult time keeping a straight face...

2nd today: Uh, no thanks, doc, I'll pass...

As I was driving today, I took particular notice (for the first time) of a sign in front of a medical office. I've passed it many times before, but today, Dahhh-ta-da-dummmm! Fresh revelation! It's amazing how much stupidity is right under your nose, and you often don't even (initially) recognize it! The sign read,

RAPHEAL HEART GROUP
Specializing in cardiovascular disease

Shouldn't that read, "Specializing in cardiovascular treatment"?

Remind me not to see these guys if I have trouble with palpitations, high pressure, et. al.

The media assumes you don't know...

As I sat watching TV the other night, a tease for the local news came on. (Your guess, GJ, was this the teleprompter's doing, or just short-sightedness on the part of the anchor?)

"Coming up on the Fox News at 10, the jury's deadlocked in the Hugo Selinski murder trial. What does that mean? Find out tonight!"

No comment.

2nd today: On the Air-head

As I was painfully subjugated to country music at work today-- sorry, country fans, but I find your choice in music absolutely revolting and comically simple-- I had to snicker at hearing a caller attempt to win tickets to a concert taking place in the area soon. The only thing one had to do was to tell the DJ "what was in common." The jockey listed the titles of three country songs and asked, "What do these three titles have in common?" The caller quickly blurted out, "Uh, they're all sung by male artists!"
"I'm sorry," the DJ chuckled, "That's not the information I was looking for!"
Flabbergasted, the caller responded, "Oh, *&$#@! Oh, uh... er... ...uh, I don't know!"

No kidding.

The pinnacle of stupidity has been reached!

It don't get none stupider than this, Cletus...

If stupid is as stupid does, than this guy and his wife have fully earned the Forrest Gump Merit Badge of the 21st Century. Please do click on the link. If you love to shake your head at pure idiocy, it's worth it!

I have nothing else to say except this:
MORONS!

Overlooking the obvious

This past Friday, a local radio station just reported on the unfortunate death of an area man who drowned in a frozen pond. The Bradford County (PA) sheriff's department issued the following statement after the body was recovered: "The 60-year-old man was ice-fishing on a local pond in the unseasonably warm (about 55 degreed F) weather when it appears he fell through the thinning ice."

Oh, is that how that happens?

I believe you MAY be in error...

Special thanks to Chuck Shepherd/ News of the Weird via Universal Press Syndicate...

This past month, a 29-year old man was arrested for jumping over the fence at the White House. Police say the man was looking to meet up with Chelsea Clinton. The Capitol Police officer informed the man the Clintons no longer lived at the White House, but unfazed, the man insisted, "George Bush told me to jump the fence, and I jumped the fence."

Is that like Crazy Tom Cruise jumping the couch?

3rd today: Bird-brain marketing

In Wally's World today, my wife and I were handed a free sample of Dial Body Wash. One of the packets was designed for men. At home, I took a look at the package, to find out if I'd really use this product. The slogan, "The Ultimate Clean Without Drying Skin" was simple and effective enough, but then the details got just plain weird...
"The Problem: Is it possible to remove odors and get skin really clean without drying skin?"

Isn't that the whole reason for bathing???

"The Result: Smooth skin and a really fresh, clean feeling."

NEWS FLASH: while a clean feeling is important to men, smooth skin is not!

"Other Good Stuff: Rich, foamy lather that rinses clean.

Hey, we're bathing, not shaving with this stuff!

"How to use: (like I need instructions!) 1) Squeeze gel onto washcloth, sponge, pouf, hands...Whatever. 2) Lather up. 3) Rinse off.

1) "Whatever"??? What do you put this stuff on, freaky marketing guy??? 2) Duh! 3) No, I'm gonna step out of the shower and go to work with this crap all over me!

2nd today: Follow-up to "Non-listening skills"

INSTRUCTIONS: If you are new to this post, or if you haven't visited in a few days, please scroll down 2 posts to "Non-listening skills" and read, then return to this post and finish the torrid tale...

Inventory day had arrived. As I previously released in my so-called talk with Jan, I had availed myself to additional service in order to assist with the busy day. Remember, the plan was: get the day's orders picked, processed and shipped, then shut everything down and begin counting.
That was the plan, until Jan decided to mess with the whole ball of wax. After our Friday's orders were picked, instead of beginning the inventory, Jan planned a whole ton of future orders into our system, and created more work. A LOT of it. Almost a full shift's work, in fact. I frantically tried to keep up with the load, pulling the materials called for to move to the pickers. The shift ends at 3:30, and at 1:30 I was still filling requests for garments. Then, Jan called back to my department.
"OK, you've got 40 more requests to process, and then I want you guys (in your department) to start scanning the back for inventory," she demanded.
I audibly guffawed. "That's not happening on our shift!"
Jan contradicted, "Yes, it will."
My patience expired and I pointed out, "Look, I already have 60 request to pull, plus this 40, plus we already have 3 cart-loads of cases to stock. It's NOT happening!"
The befuddlement returned, and Jan muttered in a slightly surprised tone, "Oh... Well, if that's the case, I'll get (my assistant) Pat back there."
Pat never came back. Instead, Jan herself graced us with her clumsy and dazed presence.
She started hauling the boxes off the carts onto the stocking line, despite the fact that she has a bad back. 10 minutes later, the intercom paged, "Jan you have a call on line 1. It's Wynona (the 2nd shift super)."
I couldn't wait to hear what feeble excuse Jan would come up with, so I positioned my forklift in such a manner as to be able to overhear her, yet look busy.
Jan stammered, "Hi, Wynona... ...No, we haven't started (counting) yet... ...No, we're still processing future work... ...Well, I'm sorry... ...I know that makes it difficult for you, but we're committed now... ...Yes, I know that now. I'm sorry..."

I rarely say this, but... "I TOLD you so!!!"

So, are you still insistent that you're not easily confused, Jan?

Already got a head start

St. Patrick's Day in Northeastern PA means public drunkenness, a huge parade and general debauchery unparalleled by any other holiday. The green beer overflows into the streets, hootin' and hollerin' fills the air and you can't go anywhere without seeing somebody falling all over themselves. With that little bit of history established...
The local weekly tabloid "Electric City" regularly features a section called "We Asked... You Answered." This week's question: "Where's the place to be on Parade Day (March 11)?"
Most answers were clear and to the point, naming local pubs and eateries like "Farley's," "Tink's" and "The Banshee." 2 other responses were a bit more odd. One contains too much information (referred to as "TMI" from this point on in this blog), while the second hints at this post's title. First...
Shannon Graham, 24, offers, "It's gonna be my first time going (to the parade). Farley's I hear is the best especially the bartender that's gonna be bartending that day. The hottest guy and the hottest girl."
Huh?
Joellen "Smashed to Smithereens" Cerra answers a bit more vaguely. "Kegs of root beer and eggs at 6 a.m!"

OK, you're already bombed to Hiroshima, and you're gonna down root beer and eggs first thing in the morning?!? Can you say, "Mulligan Stew???"

Non-listening skills

I had a "conversation"-- if you can call it that-- with my shift super, Jan today. Our company inventory is tomorrow, and the basic plan for the day is as follows: pick Friday's orders, process and ship them, then get everyone on physical counts. In other words, second shift will do more counting that first. With that said...
Being that I have a background with inventory control, I offered to be flexible with my shift, either by changing shifts, swing-shifting or even working 4 hours OT. Jan replied, "I think it's best for us to have everyone we need on first so we can begin our counts as soon as possible."
Not shaken by that, I said, "OK, that's fine. Do you need me to stay after and assist with the counts?"
Silently, a mental lapse occurred. "No, I need you here at 7:00 in the morning."
My brain hemorrhaged at the obvious disconnect between the last exchange. "Yes, I understand that. What I'm saying is that I could stay later as well with OT."
(Wasn't that a clear-cut sentence? Apparently not...)
"Well, thanks, but I need you here at the start of first shift."
As the stupidity hanging in the air wrapped around my cerebral cortex, I hesitated, and deliberately spoke, "I WILL be here at 7:00. That's fine. I have no problem with that. What I'm asking is if you would like me to work 7 - 3:30, and then stay to help second shift out on their counts, so you have an extra hand to help expedite inventory counting."
A look of complete and utter befuddlement crossed Jan's face. She blankly stared at me for a moment, then finally found the unction to utter, "Well, I'm not sure how that's going to work out. I'll get back to you on that."

The moral of the story: Jan is NOT easily confused! ...I think... Perhaps... That is, well, ...er... ...What was the question?

Super "bowl" down under, mate

This may win the award for the understatement of the year...

Seems America isn't the only Western-culture nation battling the Bulge. The Aussies are also "enlarging their territories," and experiencing an increasing amount of structural issues in the bathroom.

Standard Australia is undergoing a rigorous project to attempt to design a stronger toilet, and, as usual, somebody had to overstate the obvious. Steve Cummings, research head for the toilet manufacturer Caroma Dorf spouted, "If you are going to sit on it, you want it to hold you."

Gee, ya think?!?
"J'have a good day, Mick?"
"Nah. Got me arse stuck in the crapper when it broke." Got a big 'ol gash in the buttocks."

Why would you say that?!?

Continuing on the theme of poorly chosen everyday phrases....
"I've gotta pee like a race horse!"

Why oh why is a race horse the standard for urination? Does a race horse go more often than any other horse? Did Secretariat have a smaller bladder than Mr. Ed? Has somebody taken the time to measure the quantity that a thoroughbred pees and compared it to other animals? (I don't doubt it!) Is the size of a human bladder the same as a horse's? And furthermore, what do the makers of products like Detrol think of this?

"Side affects are mild, and may include dry mouth, constipation and peeing like a race horse..."

Another senseless phrase

"This hurts like the dickens!"

Could somebody please tell me what dickens are? And what do they feel like? I know they apparently hurt a lot, but how does one go about comparing a sprain, bruise, etc. to dickens? And why are there ALWAYS more than one dicken? Where does "dickens" fit in on that pain chart in the hospital ER? You know, "On a scale of 1 - 10, please describe your pain." Is dickens a 7? A 5? Which also leads me to...

"It bled/oozed like a French pig."

When did a French pig became the standard for measuring bodily discharge? Does it HAVE to be French? Does a pig bleed more than a cow? Have you actually stood around to watch a pig get slaughtered? Did your paper cut bleed like a French pig? Wow. It must have hurt like the dickens!

And now, a stupid everyday saying

"It's raining cats and dogs out there."

OK, who was the SICK FREAK that first thought up this phrase? This wack-job actually envisions thousands of domesticated animals hurtling down from the sky on their way to a bloody death?!? And why cats and dogs? Why not fish and hampsters, or something else? Why must we abuse helpless canines and felines like it's going out of style?

Your input, Kurt?

Not easily confused, eh?!

My supervisor's a complete moron, plain and simple.
Today, my department was having a ton of trouble keeping up with the order pickers, partly due to the fact that "Jan" took 2 of my department members out to do other "Non-value added" work. (...It's a business term for work that does not directly contribute to placing the product in the hands of the customers.)
All throughout the day, we got bombarded for "Emergency requests" for garments that I was preparing to place in the hands of the stocker, who would carry the garment to its designated location. The procedure for such a matter is to check the computer for the inventory totals. If a garment is being prepped for a move to its pick location, it will read "Incoming." In such an event, the picker sets aside that order request until the garment is in place.
Apparently, Jan didn't understand this extremely basic point of inventory, because she kept sending us emergencies. Finally, Jan came back to hand me 7 MORE emergencies.
"5 of these are on the stocking line right now. Why are you requesting these?" I voiced.
"Well, they're coming in as negative amounts on inventory," Jan tried to justify.
"Yeah, they're negative because that order has been processed into the system while the garment has not. If you just wait a few minutes, the stuff will be in stock!" I explained.
Jan just didn't get it. "Well, the system says we need it, so that's why I put in the requests."

And thank YOU for creating extra work for me when I'm already behind! D'OH!!!!

Supplemental to "Anti-leadership"

The day after my absence from work due to illness, "Jan" once again gathered the troops for the daily update, covering the pertinent numbers. Suddenly, she stopped. She glared at the paper with the info written on it, and looked completely perplexed.
"No, this can't be right," she stammered. "OK, well, I'll give you all the correct number later, because this isn't right. You know, I don't get easily confused."

OH, REALLY? Where was I yesterday, Jan??? Oh, yeah, YOU DON'T KNOW!!!

I almost choked on the blood gushing from my tongue as I bit hard upon it.

Follow-up: Later this same day, I asked if a truck was coming in, because again, she hadn't checked her E-mail.
"I think so. 'Phil' told me one was coming in. Let's go check!"

Duh! Like I hadn't already thought of/ done that!

With an admitted smirk on my face, I followed her to the bay door. She opened it, and saw that the trucking company had pulled away the empty trailer without replacing it with a full one, the same detection I had made earlier. (Normally, the company brings a full trailer and "exchanges" it with the empty one.)
Bewildered, Jan cried, "Why did they do that? Do you know why they did that?"

Do I look like a member of the trucking company? Who knows? Well, maybe I do, since we all know you DON'T GET EASILY CONFUSED!!

The new and improved English

Last night at Wal-mart, I observed a young couple completing their shopping, heading toward the check-out lane. The gal was pushing the cart, which was about 1/2 full, while the guy was walking alongside. As they noticed that just about every check-out line had about 7 or 8 people waiting in it, the guy suddenly goes to the front of the cart and yanks on it...
Gal: What are you doing?
Guy nods his head toward the short "20 items or less" lanes.
Gal: No, we can't do that. We're not expressible.

That may be, but I can say your vocabulary is most unique...

And the second STUPIE goes to....

..."At least I'm not 'full of sit!'"

"Wow! I feel cheesy!"
"You ARE cheesy!"

Just what every young woman wants to hear!
Thanks to the Burger King company for proving when you work in marketing, you can always get away with...
A) being a chauvinist
B) employing corny humor in everyday life
C) anonymity
D) getting paid by being one-dimentional
E) all of the above.

If you guessed "E," you're cheesy, er, I mean, right!

Thanks for your participation! Only 100 posts to go until the STUPIE raises its ugly head once again!

Anti-leadership

My shift supervisor isn't exactly the sharpest knife in the drawer. This week, "Jan" displayed the most crystallizing examples of proving that point, in two separate instances.
First: Upon completion of our daily update Monday morning, Jan failed to mention whether or not we would be receiving a truck full of garments, so I went to ask her before going to my department to attend to the day's work. (After all, receiving is part of my job responsibility.)
"Are we expecting a truck today?" I inquired.
"I don't know," she blandly offered. "Truthfully, I didn't even check my E-mail to find out."
Isn't that your job?
A little more than an hour later, Jan came back to my department. She asked, "Did we get a truck?"
Stunned, I replied, "No, not to this point. So we are expecting one today?"
"Well, I'm not sure," she feebly stammered.
Oy ve!

And in a second episode, Wednesday, I was forced to call off due to a nasty stomach virus. I left a message at 4:00 AM with the building supervisor. (Granted, he may not have delivered said message to Jan, however...)
The phone rang at 10:00 PM, and my caller ID told me it was work, so I picked up. The second-shift super, "Wynona," who is a LOT more coherent and competent, called to tell me that OT had been cancelled for the following day. "Jan would have called you, but she didn't even realize you weren't here until the end of the day."
WHAT??? OK, there's only 40 employees per shift, and only 5 in my department. You're honestly telling me you are incapable of monitoring when someone is absent from my department, reducing the work-force by 20%?!?

Great job, Jan. I feel so inspired.

News anchors away! (Please?)

Recently, I was watching a local news broadcast, and had to laugh when the substitute anchor read then lead-in...
"Police in Lackawanna County (PA) converge upon a wooded area in Throop (the town) to investigate a mysterious shooting. That story right next on WYOU. But first, officials fight a spectacular fire..."

Dude, just stick to the teleprompter. That's what it's there for!

Due to a major sickness to my personage, the STUPIE award has been postponed until tomorrow. Stay tuned!

Dr.Incredulous's Diagnosis: Acute Cranial Rectosis

I have previously mentioned that one thing which supposedly takes place at my place of employment is that once the order pickers empty out a box in location, they cut it flat and place it on a blue cart, where later it's taken to the cardboard baler. However, one of my co-workers, "Marissa," is a bit lazy about this and lays flat boxes on the floor all over the place. Today I caught her in the act. I asked her, "Could you please take the boxes to one of the blue carts? It's a safety hazard, plus it creates extra work for me, since I'm always the one picking them up!"
Her response floored me, and I could hardly believe my ears. "Yeah, I know."

So, what do things look like inside your backside?

And now, Dumb Inventions!

I'm sure most of you have seen the 60-second TV ad for Pasta Express, the latest psycho gadget for the kitchen. Here's something that's supposed to make prep of spaghetti so much easier! But wait, and "listen" between the lines. (This isn't word-for-word, but the gist is there...)
"Do you love homemade spaghetti but hate the hassle? Waiting for that big pot of water to boil, and then breaking all that spaghetti in half to make it fit... Now there's Pasta Express!... Just dump in the uncooked spaghetti, and then add boiling water... Pasta Express heats the water perfectly!"

So, in other words, you STILL have to wait around for water to boil first, and then once you add it, it's not hot enough, because Pasta Express heats the water? Thanks, I'll just keep my $19.95 plus S&H! After all, that's what I'm paying to not break my spaghetti in half, which makes it easier for the kids to eat anyway. How truly INconvenient!

Silence is golden, ignorance is BS

Today, I was sitting at work with my other co-workers as we ate lunch. In the background, the TV was on with the local news report. The news anchor rehashed the blunders made by FEMA and the federal gov't at large during the Katrina disaster. "Brianna" pipes up and spouts, "You know, I'm so sick of hearing about those people. They sit there and complain about living in a motel room--"
I interrupted, "Most of those folks were forced to leave the hotels because FEMA stopped paying for their rooms."
Brianna continued her verbal assault. "Yeah, and I can't stand hearing them complain, 'I got no home, I got no home.' If it's that bad, then MOVE already!"
That was enough for me. I got quite agitated, due in part to the fact that I once was briefly homeless. (That experience will change anyone's perspective!) "How are they gonna move? That requires money, something they don't have! Where do you expect them to move to???"

The silence that followed was truly wonderful.

Little gets me truly upset, but lack of sympathy for the down-trodden raises my ire big time!

What have you got up your... Shirt?

Blog of reference for this story: "Somethin's Goin' Down!" 12/19/2005. Take the time to read this!
"Dee" strikes again!
The woman who had McDonald's wrappers and other trash shoved up her shirt proves that a leopard doesn't change their spots.
My buddy Pat was delivering soda in a local K-mart and "ran into" Dee in the store. Well, Dee didn't see Pat, actually. Dee, who I previously mentioned was a large, unkempt and unsavory individual, was walking at a rapid clip, which was totally unlike her. This aroused Pat's curiosity, so he set his delivery aside and followed Dee ata a distance. The other thing which was odd was that Dee was wearing a long trenchcoat...
Pat shadowed Dee to the clothing department, where she reached to pick up a garment, and, imagine that, all sorts of garbage fell out of her shirt! De ja vu!
Pat started to chuckle, and started to walk by as Dee stretched down to pick up her prized possessions, when THUD! About 10 magazines fell out! Dee's response:
"...Aaaaaaaand magazines!"

Shoplifting? Who knows? Slob? Perhaps... Bizarre? Beyond compare!

At least I'm not "full of sit"

The person who created Burger King's "Dr. Angus" has got to be one seriously messed up humanoid!
In the latest episode, Dr. Angus lures a young, attractive woman to his (pristine, white) apartment and gives her a Angus burger with cheese... She takes a bite, and with a gleeful look of amazement, declares, "I FEEL CHEESY!"
The Doctor knowingly points back, YOU ARE CHEESY!!!"

No, YOU'RE cheesy.

AMERICAN IDiot (apologies to Green Day)

I enjoy American Idol. Having a background in music and perfect pitch, I like analyzing the contestant's realistic chances of becoming a finalist. Of course, first we must be subjugated to the torture of countless auditions, mostly BAD ones.
What always makes me shake my head is when someone who looks like a Hollywood hooker and sounds like an albatross (or sometimes they look AND sound like an albatross) presents themselves as the greatest thing since Whitney Houston, and end up sounding like Don Knotts, subsequently they're shot down by Simon and Friends... They look squarely into the eyes of the judges and state, "Fine. Whatever. I don't care. I don't need you guys to make it!"
Let the tirade begin!
"Those BLEEP guys can kiss my BLEEP BLEEP BLEEP they think they know what the BLEEP they're talkin' about BLEEP BLEEP you BLEEP trying to tell me BLEEP like that well you can BLEEP go to BLEEP BLEEP with BLEEP!"

Yeah, the apathy in your voice reeeeeeally convinces me you don't care!

THIS is the best you can do?

When dealing with this serious of an issue, you'd think a Public Service Announcement would be better than this...
The Tioga County (NY) AIDS Awareness Team put together the following drabble and tried to call it a radio PSA:
3 or 4 adolescents singing in a deeply bored, apathetic tone to the tune of Barney's "I Love You"-- not even in rhythm or key
I love you, you love me
Let's get rid of S-T-D
With a hug and a kiss and protec-tion too
It's all up to me and you

News flash: you guys will NOT be the next American Idol.

Things to avoid pondering

Every now and then, my brother (who lives 1400 miles away) and I send wacky thoughts via E-mail to either relive childhood memories, or to just give each other a laugh. Today's oddity, courtesy of my 41-year old sibling:
"Why do people point to their wrist when asking for the time, but they don't point to their crotch when they ask where the bathroom is?"

Is there any wonder why I grew up to be such a strange individual?

Pointless with zero calories

People who come up with product slogans must be smoking some funky Jamaican cigs or something...
"Diet Dr. Pepper. There's nothing DIET about it."

If that's so, then why call it DIET Dr. Pepper? Better alert all the Atkins and South Beach disciples! Let them know that they'd better not consume this beverage because it'll mess them up big time!!!

Yes, there IS life outside the farm

A local weekly tabloid features a regular column called "Tell Us..." The paper asks 6 readers a question, and the responses are recorded for posterity's sake... Or, in the case of some, in spite of posterity.
Take for example, the following query: "What is your favorite form of exercise?" 1/2 of the answers were normal: Soccer, Exercise bike, Yoga... One replied, "Ultimate Living Room Fighting," which I personally think sounds bizarre, but I'll give the benefit of the doubt. Then there was Mike Sink and Dale Hemmingsen, whose decrees offered a bit too much regarding what nature of persons they were.
Mike's suggestion: "Chasing chickens!"
Dale's solution: "Cow tipping!"

Ooooooooooooo-K, then! I think I can guess what color your neck is!!!

ONLY 12 MORE POSTINGS UNTIL THE "STUPIE" IS AWARDED!
Keep voting for your favorite from December, January and February posts, and the leading vote-getter wins the next edition of this totally insignificant, pointless and made-up award!!!
You make the Stupies happen! Take hold of your ability to publicly decree your stance against stupidity!

TP in the "lap" of luxury

Thanks to "News of the weird" by United Press Syndicate for this one...
The Portuguese paper producer Renova introduced black toilet paper in France (Of course!) last fall and expect to introduce it in the U.S. soon. A Renova statement called the tissue "elegant, rebellious, alternative and eternally fashionable."

Elegant? Hey, man, I'm wiping myself, not walking down the runway at the Golden Globes.
Rebellious?! "Yeah, I'm using black TP. That'll show 'em!!!"
Alternative? So's the color of your behind when you develop a rash from the black dye!
ETERNALLY fashionable? C'mon. You think people are gonna visit your house and swoon, "Oh, I just love that black toilet paper!" No, they'll be driving home muttering, "What the heck is up with those crackheads?!?"

And finally, I don't mean to be gross or visually descriptive, but how the heck do you tell if you're clean?

Really?! You don't say!!!

An ad for a local sleep study clinic offers this glimpse into the world of abstract thought:
"Trouble sleeping? ...It might be a sleep disorder."

Hey, I'm really glad you cleared that up, because I was beginning to think it was the 45 cups of coffee I just drank!

Sat. #2: Well, Ex-CUUUUUUUSE ME!!!

I never cease to be amazed by these bizarre stories the AP find to report...
This past August, Harvey Bennett, 55, of Long Island NY, decided to do what a lot of boys and girls do around the world and wrote a note, put it in a small plastic bottle and let it loose in Long Island sound. Imagine his joy and surprise when he received a reply just a few days ago. (Unfortunately, the AP doesn't say how the reply was sent.) The excitement turned to shock when Mr. Bennett read the note.
"I recently found your bottle while taking a scenic walk on the beach by Poole Harbour. While you may consider this some profound experiment on the path and speed of ocean currents, I have another name for it--LITTER. You Americans don't seem to be happy unless you are mucking about somewhere. --Henry Bigglesworth, Bournemouth, Dorset County, England."

Amazing. This guy is so distraught over having his little stroll interrupted by the appearance of a single plastic bottle that he takes time to write a nasty reply and send it to Mr. Bennett? 'Ey, bloke, get y'self a bloody LIFE, with a side of manners.

Sat. #1:Thought-free yogurt

Wal-mart. The cursed plot of lost and brainless souls!!!
While shopping and dealing with the endless throngs of people, we came upon a very LARGE man getting raisins. As my wife reached over to try to grab a pack of boxes, "Bubba" turns to his entourage and addresses another man. "Now I have to find where they keep the yogurt. I just love that yogurt!"
The other man replied, "I think it will be in the last aisle by the milk."
Bubba wasn't convinced. "No, I mean yogurt."
Man #2 was obviously more familiar with this store than Bubba was. "Yeah, it'd be in the refrigerated aisle by the milk and dairy!"
Bubba was now thoroughly clueless, and annoyed. "No, man! YO-GURT!!!"
Man #2 had had enough. "Never mind, let's just keep looking..."

Dude, if you love yogurt so much, why don't you know where it is?!?!

Mon #2: Advertising in the worst possible taste

I heard the following ad on the radio today at work. At least it gave me something to laugh about on the job! What complete idiot thought this was a good idea???

AD: Dr. Scholl's Gel Inserts
The scene: A crowded diner with an exchange between a waitress and customer.

Customer: Waitress! May I have some coffee over here, please?
Waitress: Certainly, sir...
(A loud crash of dishes)
W, frantic tone: Oh, no! Sir, I'm so sorry! Hot coffee all over your lap! Oh, oh... Let me get some paper towels and some cold water!
C, calmly: It's alright, ma'am. Don't worry about it. It's only scalding hot coffee.
W: Wow. You must be gellin'!
C: Exactly! Which is why I'm not yellin'. Even though the redness and swelling is considerable!

OK, so are you saying that if your feet are outrageously comfortable, you won't feel anything else? Tell you what, after the initial shock and burning, I wouldn't be feeling much either when having scalding hot coffee dumped in my lap!

Mon. #1: "HUH??? WHAT???"

Here's further proof that there's a huge difference between hearing and listening.
At the beginning of each work day, the whole shift gathers for an update as to how much work we have scheduled that day, any important details and other announcements. "Jan" went through all the daily information, and then went on to discuss the corporation's change-over to an outsourced payroll group. Included in payroll is the timekeeping reports. "Effective March 27th," announced Jan, "we will be completely be changed over to the new payroll system, so that morning is when we'll start punching in on the new time clocks which were installed last month."
The words had scarcely left her mouth when 3 ladies collectively raised their hands and immediately asked, "When are we going to start 'swiping in' on the new time clocks?"

Hmmm. Must be Attention Defe--... Um... Uh, something-or-other...