Bad Words

Let's cut right to the chase: I think the idea of "bad words" is bullshit. There are certainly plenty of parents that would whole-heartedly disagree with me, and I just couldn't care less.

Here's the deal. The idea that certain words are inherently bad is just idiotic. It means we've arbitrarily given this little collection of letters some mystical power over us. Sure, words are used to communicate, and sometimes we want to illicit a powerful response in our audience, so word selection is key. But context is everything. And it's easier to just tell your children that "shit" is a "bad word" than it is to explain when it might be acceptable to use the word and when it is most certainly not.

"But, if my kids just don't use those words, then they won't make a mistake and use them in the wrong place. I win!" Yeah, and you could probably build a house using a rubber mallet and a garden trowel, too, but that sounds like a really shitty idea. Words are tools; sure, you can get an idea across using a limited subset of words, but why? Ask an experienced engine builder to set you up with a racing engine, but tell him he can only use that cheap Stanley toolset you've got under the sink and see how quickly he tells you to go fuck yourself. And don't even get me started on the "I limit my vocabulary so I don't have to think hard" idea. It's not hard.

We even make up little names for these words, just so we don't have to say them. As if that makes it better. "Hey, don't say 'fuck'...you'll lend it power. If enough people say it, it will rise up and take over the world." No, let's call it the "f-bomb" instead. Because that makes sense. "Don't say the 'n-word' or the almighty Zeus will shoot a lightning bolt up your ass."

The only power any given individual word has over you is the power you give it.

Public Bathroom Etiquette #4

Little fact of life: most public bathroom doors don't have windows. I'm not complaining. We all work with a guy who apparently has the worst digestive tract in the animal kingdom who goes in there once a day to make a symphony of ass noises and exercise his explosive shit nozzle. Nobody wants to see/hear/smell that...especially from outside.

 

Anyway, there's an unwritten code of conduct one must uphold when faced with a door that doesn't have a window. It's simple...very much like most of the people who fail to grasp the concept. Here it is, and I'm gonna lay it out with as few syllables as I can: easy with the door.

 

I don't know if you used to clear rooms on a fucking SWAT team, or maybe you've lived through some urban guerrilla warfare shit that would make most men lay in a fetal position in the corner for the rest of their lives. Whatever your excuse, just stop. The bathroom ain't a place to do battle, and nobody gives a shit about your grand entrance. Ease the door open; almost as if you can't see through it and there just might be somebody on the other side.

The Layperson's Guide to Being an Asshole

Next time you're out driving, take a look around you. Is it

a) raining?

b) snowing?

c) precipitating anything?

d) dark?

e) almost dark?

f) that weird thing where you wouldn't say it's dark or almost dark, but you definitely can't see well?

 

If you answered yes to any of those questions, and you don't have your headlights on, you're an asshole.

 

Now before anybody gets their panties all in a bunch, let me caveat this. I'm all for using common sense when it comes to turning on your headlights. There's just one little problem: the vast majority of people don't have any common sense.

When in doubt, turn on your headlights. If you got offended by this post, just think: you are the reason cars come from the manufacturer with daytime running lights.

NOTE: This post was written while under the influence of a rage induced by coming up on somebody in the left lane of an interstate doing 57 in a 65, at 5:10 in the morning (at which point, it is fucking dark, btw) with no lights. None. Did I mention it was sprinkling? Yeah...don't be that guy.

Mushroom cloud layin' motherfucker

Can I do that? Can I title my post with a quote from a movie without some litigious clairvoyant somewhere going apeshit on me?

 

Sorry, that's the start of a totally different blog post. This one is about rage. I have some triggers that put me in a strange state. You know the one: tunnel vision, visibly shaking, furious, righteous rage. Here's the one that happens most, and is the easiest to avoid...

 

The other day I'm cruising home from work on a controlled access highway doing 60+ mph, when this jackass uses one of those little dirt cut-throughs to pull a U-turn. This may or may not be legal, depending on local laws, but that's not the issue. Shit happens. Sometimes you got to turn around. I understand.

 

But this fucker pulls out onto the road with less than 30 yards from me to him. Like, if you were going to measure it, it would be about this long: "Oh shit, I'm gonna..." <KABOOM>

All right...so let's give this guy the benefit of the doubt, right? Sure, he almost caused a major accident. Luckily, I knew there were no other cars beside me, so I was able to switch lanes and avoid him. (Which begs the question: if there were no other cars beside me, why the fuck did he pull out in front of me in particular? But I digress...) Maybe he just didn't see me. Maybe he did, but was in a hurry. Whatever. In any case, I give him the "watch where you're going, you almost killed me" honk as I narrowly avoid his vehicle.

 

And he honks back and flips me off.

 

There it is, folks. There's the rub. And I gotta say, if I didn't have a family who would wonder why I hadn't been home for 20 years to life, it almost would have been worth it to snuff this guy out. I wasn't in the red. I didn't flail around, arms out the window, yelling and screaming. Simply honked to let this guy know that he had almost fucked up both of our days. But no, fuck constructive criticism. He put me in the red. I'd love to talk to assholes like that as a police officer.

 

Bet he was on his cell phone...

Public Bathroom Etiquette #3

This one is mostly just my opinion, and pretty much goes for any situation; not just the bathroom.

 

My feeling is pretty much that two or more men should not be talking if one or more of them has his hand on his dick. This is not some universal theorem of life, and I'm sure there are exceptions, but it's generally safe to assume I feel this way.

 

I approach the bathroom almost like I'm walking through an unsafe neighborhood late at night: eyes down, don't attract attention, and get out of there as fast as possible. Chances are, even if I know you well, I won't acknowledge you in a bathroom.

 

On the other hand, there are plenty of guys out there who are perfectly happy talking to you about anything while standing at a urinal. Hell, I've had friends talk to me from a stall. Yeah, I can't hear you, because I left when you started being fucking weird.

 

Clearly, this is just a personal preference thing, but I wanted to put it out there. So, the next time you're chatting someone up in the shitter and they look uncomfortable as hell, just be sensitive to the fact that they might not like to hold conversations in places where random people poop.

Over-talkers

Humans classify things. We excel at it. We like to take all of our stimuli and file it away in a familiar 'bucket' of like things.

 

Today's post is about one of my little buckets. I call this class of people over-talkers, and it's quite possible you've run into one in the wild. But, in case you haven't, let me walk you through the common characteristics and traits so you'll be able to classify them properly if you ever meet one.

 

Your conversation will start out quite normally. It seems as though you're talking to a normal person. However, at some point in the conversation the over-talker either has a strong opinion about something, has something they deem extremely important to share, or you just inadvertently talked shit about their favorite Pokemon (or Nascar driver, or football player, or whatever-the-fuck that they care about). At this point, the conversation takes a weird turn, because the over-talker now cannot be stopped.

 

They continue talking, even though words are currently coming out of your mouth. As if in answer to this weird turn of events, they up the volume and intensity of the words falling out of their mouth.

 

And before you suggest that this situation is pretty normal in a debate, here's the curveball: the over-talker does this even in normal conversations. That's what sets them apart. What are you talking about? The drive in to work? Yep, they'll talk over you. What you had for breakfast? Yep, they'll talk over that to. Something else en-YES, THEY'LL TALK OVER YOU BECAUSE FUCK YOU MAJOR IMPORTANT SHIT HERE.

 

For fun, you can play little games, just to see what level they're on. Like, are they a newb over-talker just trying it out, or are they a hard-core level 90 over-talking warlord? For example, without raising your voice or appearing inconvenienced at all, just keep talking. It's fucking hilarious.

Vultures

You've seen them. They follow you on your way out to the parking lot, just itching for that spot. There must be some prize for parking twenty feet closer to the door. And they wait on you...

 

Just park, dammit. I refuse to change my routine just because you are (im)patiently waiting for me to get out of this spot. When I get to my car after work in the afternoon, I'm certainly ready to go home. However, I still have my little ritual: I start the car, remove the sun shade, get situated and buckled up, and text my wife that I'm on my way. The whole process takes probably no more than 60 seconds, which is fine for me. But those people that end up waiting on me tend to get a little antsy at that point.

 

Here's the deal: I get to work early. I do this for many reasons, parking not being one of them. However, it is a nice side effect that I get to pretty much pick my spot. And it's my spot as long as I occupy it. Don't even assume I'm leaving. This spot is occupied - find another.

Public Bathroom Etiquette #2

Assuming you're not one of the mouth-breathers who I offended with PBE #1, you've managed to actually wash your hands. Look out! The next tricky part awaits...

Unless you are severely disfigured, or perhaps spontaneously contract some debilitating form of palsy, turn off the damn faucet. I mean, you turned it on, right? It isn't that hard. I have never encountered a faucet that was easy to turn on, but required a torque wrench and deep-well impact socket to turn off. And because I just hate the sound and idea of a dripping faucet - something about it just assaults my poor, delicate sensibilities - I always turn them off. And so far, I've never attempted to halt a faucet some other asshat left running and thought to myself, "I'm sorry for those unkind thoughts I had about you, good sir. This faucet is indeed far too difficult to extinguish."

On a side note, this is very much like the weights at the gym: If you're big enough to put them on the bar and work out with them, you're big enough to take them off and put them away. Nobody but you gives a shit how much weight you lifted, so don't leave it on display as some kind of retarded trophy to your epic swollness.

I'm not sure what kind of household you grew up in, but I grew up in one where hearing mom yelling, "Shut the door! Were you raised in a damn barn?" was fairly routine. You open the door, shut it. You turn on the light, turn it off. You lifted the lid, put it back down again. You get the general idea: don't be a fucking slob.

So yeah, I apologize that you were apparently raised by a mother who didn't love you, but do the rest of us a favor and turn off the faucet.

Common Courtesy #1

Hey look! Another thing I often get on a soap box about: (un)common courtesy. Let's make it another series!

Regardless of what you do for a living, I'm sure you've run into this before. And if you're like me, it takes considerable effort to refrain from excoriating (one of my favorite words, btw...) those individuals that participate in this ridiculous act. Yeah, I'm talking about blocking a hallway.

Whether it be the seemingly harmless mom at Kroger who parks her cart in the exact center of the aisle while shopping approximately a quarter of a mile away, or the retarded people who hold impromptu meetings in the hallway at your workplace, this one really gets on my nerves. And to add insult to injury, it seems that most of the time these people don't care to move out of the way for any reason whatsoever. Or, even worse, when they do, it's this token little shuffle that makes just enough room for the most emaciated anorexic to slide by while scraping the wall.

And I think we all know what goes hand-in-hand with this little shuffle: the look of sheer inconvenience. And nothing puts me in the red like politely pointing out that someone is doing something silly, and being scolded and/or ridiculed for my efforts. (Just to be abundantly clear: yes, I am polite. Nothing like being looked at like a toddler who has just reached into his diaper and pulled out a large turd for simply saying, "Excuse me" because you're taking up the entire hallway.)

News flash: this hallway ain't yours...and it ain't mine either. We have to share it. I'm teaching my 3 year-old what sharing means. I sure as shit don't have time to teach that to a grown adult.

And while we're at it, lest I make another post for basically the same thing, let's go ahead an lump in those people who like to stand just on the other side of a doorway. I don't care what you're doing: checking your phone, having a conversation, smoking a cigarette...move out of the damn way.

Public Bathroom Etiquette #1

Since this seems to be a recurring theme, I'm just going to start numbering them. So, strap in for the very first installment of Public Bathroom Etiquette!

 

Let's kick this series off by going on a little trip to the past. Twenty years ago, I remember being absolutely revolted by the bathrooms in my high school. So much so, that I did my best to not use them. Perhaps that's part of the reason I'm shit shy...

 

Fast forward to college. I remember thinking, Damn, these bathrooms are still absolutely disgusting. Maybe even worse than those in high school. I can't wait to graduate and get away from these morons.

 

Fast forward again to my first few weeks in the "real world." (Which, I'd like to point out, was a tad bit easier than working a 40-hour week at a farm store while taking 18 hours of physics and math courses, despite what so many people kept telling me. Let's just say that "Just you wait..." is not exactly one of my favorite things to hear.) I've graduated from college and entered the professional work force. I'm working in an office building with a bunch of other professionals. Absolutely no riff-raff allowed in here; we had a guard and everything. So imagine my horror when I spotted the little collection of boogers on the wall above the urinal, just like in high school and college.

 

That's when I realized: I'm still around the same people that I went to high school and college with. Sure, the names and faces have changed, but essentially the group composition is the same. All of which is to say that nothing changes. The general proportion of sick, nasty bastards remains the same, they just hide it better in public...mostly.

 

In my line of work, there are an over-abundance of acronyms. However, one I wish I'd never had to encounter is PnF. It stands for Pee-n-Flee, or Poo-n-Flee if you're just one mutation short of reverting back to a troglodyte.

 

Not washing your hands in my household - both growing up, and now - carries real consequences. And almost every level-headed person I've ever spoken to as an adult feels the same way. (I say almost, because one time at work I was introduced to a guy who was a confirmed PnF'er. I refused to shake his hand, even though it made the situation kind of awkward.)

 

I know I've talked about this before, but it bears repeating. My 3-year old knows how to wash his hands. Hell, if no one has ever shown you, I'll teach you, too. Wash your damn hands.

Where do they go?

I feel certain we've all had this happen: You get up and walk into another room, only to get there and not know what the hell you're doing. Well, I want to talk about that quirk's lesser known, more insidious cousin.

I work at a desk in an "office." Think "Office Space" and you won't be too far off. So, farting at my desk would be frowned upon, and just an unpleasant thing to subject my coworkers to in general. So what's a guy to do? Well, I don't know how others discreetly handle this issue, but I generally get up and walk to the bathroom, where I'm free to "take care of business" without fear of repercussion. (If you are an individual that just farts at your desk, may I suggest that this may be part of the reason people don't like you.)

However, from time to time, this all goes horribly awry. You see, it seems like sometimes my ass takes a cue from my brain, and upon arrival at the bathroom, is like, "<snicker>...What gas?" Just a moment ago, I was having painful cramps that seemed like they needed immediate attention. Now, I'm perfectly comfortable, without the slightest hint that anything was amiss. It's made worse by the fact that I know, as soon as I'm back at my desk, the cramps will return. This is an absolutely horrible trick to play on someone, and it's not appreciated.

Tiny Bubbles

I have this theory about consciousness. Bear with me and let me be cliche for a minute. I envision a stream...of consciousness, har har...flowing over a murky bottom. (Maybe, if you're stupid, it's more like a stagnant pool.) This murky bottom is your subconscious. Now, during the course of the regular day, you are assaulted by stimuli. In today's society, it's damn near sensory overload. The big things that you are actively engaged in - working, conversations, hobbies - all enter the stream. The little stuff like the commercial on the TV in the other room that you hear while fixing supper, I imagine just kind of skipping across the surface.

But every once in a while, one of these little ideas...concepts...nuggets...sinks like a rock. Straight through your consciousness - you might not even be aware of it - and plunks down in the mud of your subconscious. There, it festers.

"What the hell are you rambling about?" Bear with me, I'm getting to my point.

You ever get aroused for absolutely no damn good reason? (Every male reader just nodded.) You ever daydream about nothing in particular and then, as you snap out of it, are overcome by a sense of fear/joy/sadness/anger, but you can't figure out why?

I think that transitions to and from consciousness have a chance to disturb these little nuggets that are effervescing down below the surface. And sometimes...POP!...the thought bubbles out.

All of the sudden you're sitting at your desk at work wondering why the hell you're thinking about Jamie Lee Curtis in that damn Activia commercial...

I keel you!

I consider myself a very rational and skeptical person. I try not to adhere to beliefs or philosophies that I haven't at least given some serious thought to. So it can be frustrating to deal with another person's arguments that seem, on the surface, to be based on nothing at all. However, at some point in our lives, we're all guilty of it. I have found myself taking a side in some conversations, and realizing that I really don't have any good reasons for choosing my side other than some visceral appeal to emotion. Thankfully, that doesn't happen often.

Let me get this out of the way: I support the death penalty. And I have for as long as I can remember; or at least as long as I was able to fully understand what it was and what it entailed. I'm perfectly willing to admit that my early feelings about it were influenced by emotion, and had little rational thought behind them at all. As you might have guessed, I can be a pretty angry person; it's the one emotion I'm comfortable with. And so I use it to deal with many situations. However, I'm not violent or beligerent. And a vast majority of the time, I'm not even outwardly angry. I just tend to put things on simmer as I slowly pick them apart, analyze them, and finally file them away.

So what does all this have to do with capital punishment? Well, I was reading a thread on a forum the other day about abolishing the death penalty. Some (not all) of the responses were well thought out and articulate. And both sides were pretty well represented. But as I read more and more, I kept second-guessing my stance. Was it based on a visceral reaction? A need for revenge? Did my hot-headed teenage self still cling to this idea in defiance of my more tempered, rational, older self?

After a good couple of days of serious introspection, I'm happy to conclude that no; my stance remains the same. And my reasons are sound - or at least self-consistent. Rather than sum up the arguments on the thread, I'm just going to put my position out there. After all, this is my blog, and I can do what I want. There are plenty of other blogs you can read that will preach the saving of a life - ANY life.

As soon as humans started living together as groups, communities, societies, etc. it became necessary to set up rules. These rules define what we, as a society, think is acceptable. But that's not enough, is it? Because there will always be some asshat that doesn't care what you or your buddies think is acceptable. So there has to be some enforcement, and punishment, for when you break the rules. So our society says that to kill another, except in self defense, is wrong. Every time. If that's the case, how can I agree with allowing the government to kill someone? Isn't that just the government exacting revenge, which we've all agreed is also wrong? Well...not exactly.

The penal system provides pushishment for criminals that break our laws. But another primary, worthy, admirable, important goal is rehabilitation. My opinion, based on personal experience with other people besides myself, is that there are individuals for whom rehabilitation will never work.
What recourse does a society have for people like this? What punishment do we reserve for the most heinous crimes? The simple answer is to remove them from society. But even that is not so simple. The resounding argument, the one I see most often, is to simply remove them from society by incarcerating them until their death. Opponents of the death penalty will say that this is far preferable to denying them life; from actively taking their life from them. Well, I disagree.

First, I disagree because allowing individuals like this to exist and carry on living inside the penal system means that they have a chance to influence other people. Perhaps even other prisoners for whom rehabilitation is possible. That's not a risk I'm willing to take.

Second, there's no reasonable way of separating such a person from the general populace and ensuring - guaranteeing - that they will not be a threat to other humans; inmate, guard, or otherwise. And believe me, there are people out there who want to construct some kind of crazy structure like the one used to house Magneto in the X-Men movie. Well, this ain't a movie. Try to refrain from suggesting fictional solutions to our very real problem.

Finally, and this is a biggie, I don't agree that every human life has the same value. Before I start some major shit, or walk off the deep end of some sort of eugenics derail, let me clarify. I certainly don't propose some sort of sliding scale, or ranking. I'm merely suggesting that there are people out there who are perfectly happy murdering innocent people simply for their own enjoyment - and we should value their lives less than those who don't go around murdering people.

If murdering for fun was a popular human condition, there would be a society that embraced it, and we could send those individuals there. However, I'm not aware of such a place. Barring that, each society is forced to deal with this incredibly shitty situation. And I truly don't think there are ANY attractive options here.

There are twisted people out there, living among us. When we find them, I think we have to deal with them appropriately. And in my opinion, that means they should be removed efficiently and expeditiously from society. And the only option I think is viable is the death penalty.

Just to be clear, I'm not talking about cases where rehabilitation can work. I'm talking about the sickest people out there. People like Javed Iqbal, Jeffery Dahmer, Ted Bundy, and Andrei Chikatilo. These people have no redeeming qualities. They have no place in society. And they have no value for human life. In cases like these, I feel the government should not shy away from its duty to protect its citizens.

Switch the order

It seems that every week there's another story in the news about yet another person who has decided to go on a killing spree that inevitably leads to them committing suicide.

 

I sure as hell can't relate to killing random, innocent people, so I can't even begin to understand the mindset of the people that commit these acts. However, I'd like to propose just a slight change of tactics. It's really no big deal, when you think about it. I mean, I can't see how anybody could turn down such a simple, benign request. So, to all you mass murdering, suicide junkies out there, here goes:

 

When you head out on your murder-suicide rampage: switch the order. Put the first bullet in your noggin. And do us a favor: don't miss.

 

That is all.

Proselytizing is lazy

(Fair warning: If you like going door-to-door handing out religious pamphlets, this is not the post you're looking for.)

First and foremost, just to clear the air: I respect other people's right to their beliefs, even though I may not always see those beliefs as tenable. I firmly believe that having the choice, and the ability to debate a topic openly, is a fantastic thing. Also, note that "you" in this article refers to the collective group of door-to-door religion salesman, or a completely fictitious sample person, and not you, the reader.
 

Now that I have that off my chest: stop knocking on my door, hoping to convert me. It's rude. Here I am, enjoying my time, doing whatever it is I like to do. And here you are, hoping to hand me a pamphlet that will save me from eternal damnation.

 

First of all, it's rude because you've knocked on my door, essentially trying to sell me something. I think we can all agree that telemarketers who do cold calls are rude, right? I know I'm not alone on this. So interrupting my free time to tell me what you like to do with your free time is also rude.

 

Second, it's rude because you assume I need saving. "But we're just trying to tell you about our awesome church!" Yes, well, let me explain how that works. I have friends. I talk to them. If your church is awesome, and my friends are the type of people who go to your church, and we share similar interests (i.e. I'm someone they would feel comfortable inviting to their church), they'll invite me. In other words, if your church is awesome and I'm inclined to go to such a place, I'll find out about it without your intervention.

 

And the "saving" bit in particular rubs me the wrong way. You believe what you believe, and I believe what I believe. When you boil it down, we both have a preference for one thing over another. So starting out with the whole "saving" or "savior" bit is a little presumptuous. It's like assuming that Coke is inferior to Pepsi as a universal truth just because you prefer Pepsi. No, I don't want to be saved. Mainly because I don't agree that I need saving to start with, I don't believe in what you want to save me with, and I don't believe what you propose to save me from. Believing in something doesn't make it reality.

 

And finally, it's rude because you don't even bother asking about my beliefs. And on the rare occasions that you do, they are completely disregarded. Essentially, we don't enter into a discussion about beliefs and their merits. We don't have an open-minded conversation about how we arrived at our respective beliefs. You dismiss mine as unworthy right off the bat, and then proceed to batter me with a very one-sided discourse. Exactly how is that supposed to come off?

 

Here's an idea, just my idea, worth every penny you paid for it. Try this:

Greet me and apologize for interrupting my day. Ask me if I have time to chat. Introduce yourself. Ask me if I mind talking about religion. Then, bear with me here, enter into a normal discussion with me. Talk to me about my beliefs and your beliefs. Sit on my front porch and get to know me a little bit. I love talking about religion. I don't love condescension and rhetoric. See the difference? Treat me like a person, not a project. I'll invite you in, offer you a beer or a coke, and you can see what kind of person I am. Hell, we might both learn something.

Please wait to be seated...

Here's a situation my wife and I run into on a fairly regular basis. We have small children. We like to go out to eat. These two seemingly simple concepts are sometimes not really all that compatible. With that in mind, we try to minimize any drama. And we do so by going out to eat early.

 

By walking in to the restaurant when it's not crowded, we generally get faster service, the kiddos remain happy, and everyone has a pleasant experience. However, there are certain restaurants that seem to not know what to do with people who like to eat dinner at 4:30.

 

Just a heads up for any people in the restaurant business. If I walk in to your establishment at 4:30 and ask for a table for four, and you make me wait ten minutes to sit down, I'm not coming back. I might even leave right then. If I look around and see three or four occupied tables among a sea of unoccupied settings, and you don't seat me right away, I'm furious right off the bat.

 

And let me make another thing perfectly clear: I don't care if it's shift change. If thirteen people called in sick, and you're having a shitty night, I'll be happy to bear with you. But if this is a daily occurrence, and you haven't figured out how to schedule your employees without penalizing your customers, maybe don't stay open between lunch and dinner.

 

And anyone who says, "Hey, what's the big deal? It's ten minutes..." clearly hasn't had to sit in the lobby of Red Lobster next to the lobster tank with a 6 year old and a 2 year old...

Driving (continued)

Just wanted to touch on one more facet regarding driving on public roads. You know, I made the analogy with the circular saw, but that really only accounts for the safety of the user. The biggest reason I make such a fuss about distracted driving is because of all the other people you endanger while out on the road.

 

Using the same analogy, if you want to run your circular saw without any protection, while chatting with your buddy about internet cats, be my guest. I feel like I've done my duty if I simply warn you that it's not the best idea. However, if you want to walk through a park swinging your running saw by it's cord, well then you and I officially have problems.

 

If you're driving distracted, unfortunately you're not just risking your own life. You are putting your passengers and all other drivers you encounter at risk. That's the part that pisses me off.

 

Best case scenario, you're going to cause property damage. (But that's what insurance is for, right? Fuck that. That's an entirely different post, or series of posts, about (dis)placing responsibility.) Worst case, you're going to kill one or more people in my family. That is why I take such offense to drivers who are paying very little attention to driving.

Friends don't let friends...

On today's installment, I'm going to talk about something I'm very opinionated about: driving.

So before I mention a couple of my pet peeves, let's just boil driving down to what it really is. When driving, you are solely in control of a roughly two-ton chunk of steel, piloting it down a fairly narrow strip of asphalt at speeds that regularly approach an average Major League fastball (fyi...last year's average was 92 mph). Oh, and let's not forget that the requirement for said privilege is that you reach 15 years of age (in this state). Oh, and when you're doing this, you tend to be around many, many other drivers doing the same thing.

Now that we've gotten that out of the way, let's just talk about rational behavior for a minute. Any reasonable, thinking human being would surmise that this takes a good deal of concentration to pull off successfully; and they'd be right. So why the hell do I see so many inattentive drivers?

Let's attempt to put things in perspective. Would you talk on a cell phone, eat a cheeseburger, or put on makeup while operating a circular saw? Yes, a circular saw can kill you, but the most common injury is to the hands; best case, a nasty laceration, worst case, you lose a finger or three. So do we see people multitasking while using these dangerous tools? Not in my experience. Why then, are people so ignorant when they strap into a car?

On to my pet peeves. You might be an asshole if:

• You put on makeup while driving. Here's an idea: wake up 10 minutes earlier.
• You text while driving. "I'm sorry I hit your minivan full of small children. My buddy just sent me a picture of a cat wearing a helmet and holding an AK-47. I was texting 'lol' when I hit you. My bad."
• You don't use your blinker. Assuming you are actually trying to maintain some semblance of control of the vehicle, then at least one hand is on the wheel. Which means that you literally have to move a single finger to tell other drivers where the hell you plan on going. 
• You attempt to merge doing 25+ mph slower than traffic you're merging with. Really? No, really? How the fuck did you think this was going to work?
• You try to cross more than one lane of traffic to get to the turn lane you need at the last minute. Have a plan. Know where you're going. I've never buckled up, started out, and then found myself wondering where the hell I was going.
• You go 10+ mph under the speed limit, despite optimal driving conditions. Try this the next time you drive: after driving for a bit, look in your rear view mirror. If there is a line of traffic behind you longer than a mile, stop at the next safe spot, get out of the vehicle, set it on fire, and walk home. Please.

No alcohol for you!

Had this little situation crop up the other day, and for the life of me, I can't figure out what sense it makes.

 

So apparently there's a policy that some stores have in effect (and some states as well, as far as I can tell) that says you must ID everyone in a party if an individual is buying alcohol.

 

Before I gripe about it, let me just get the obvious out of the way. Yes, I understand that the policy attempts to undermine under-aged drinking. Yes, I understand that the store is just covering their own ass. And lastly, I understand that a vendor may refuse to do business with anyone for any reason (although randomly refusing paying customers seems like one shitty business model.) Okay, better? I'll carry on...

 

What the hell? Even with the half-assed explanations that I can come up with, this seems like a remarkably stupid idea. Any purchasing policy that can be completely defeated if the buyer of goods simply says, "Hey, stand over there for a minute" must be shit to begin with.

 

And, to make matters worse, there is another glaring hole in this policy: it starts with a completely subjective judgment call. I've bought many adult beverages with my small children in tow. Do they get carded? Would that make sense? So what's the cutoff?

 

I'll tell you what. How about you stop trying to save me from me? What's next, asking for my keys at the register so that I don't speed on the way home? If you are dead set on 100% absolutely not contributing to underage drinking, don't sell alcohol. But that would cost you money...

Don't hurt my feelings, bro

There is a pall that has settled over our society in recent years. I can't help but think it has certain strong ties to the whole idea of "political correctness." You know, that particular bit of insanity that one Texas A&M student defined as "...a doctrine fostered by a delusional, illogical minority, and rabidly promoted by an unscrupulous mainstream media, which holds forth the proposition that it is entirely possible to pick
up a turd by the clean end."

We are entirely too afraid to hurt people's feeling in today's overly litigious society. What a crock...

Recent events have unfolded around the world that have made it abundantly clear, at least to me, that there are plenty of philosophies that we should openly criticize. But we're afraid to call a spade a spade; I mean, someone might get butt-hurt over our insensitivity.

I'm a firm believer that you should be able to formulate your own opinions on all matters spiritual and philosophical, and I'm happy that I live in a country where (at least on paper) I'm allowed to adhere to and practice these beliefs without fear of open persecution. That is...as long as my actions fall within the legal boundaries we've all agreed to as a society.

So how can it be that I'm proposing a wholesale opposition to the moral code that someone else chooses? Isn't that a bit hypocritical?

Let me give a concrete example. Let's say you believe that it's all right to stone your daughter in the street because she married someone you didn't agree with? "But it's what I was raised to believe is right." Are we supposed to turn a blind eye to this philosophy? Are we supposed to, as a society, let this go in the name of freedom? Horseshit. I'm just going to go out on a limb and say what many of us are thinking: If you are willing to throw bricks at a member of your family because they decided to marry an "unsavory" character, you are an asshole. Not only that, you are a dangerous asshole. And your beliefs are a danger to society. Turning a blind eye to such beliefs in the name of freedom and protecting civil rights only endangers innocent lives.

Granted, this is an extreme example. This wouldn't happen in the US, right? I knew of a man years ago that came here from the Middle East. He went to school in the US, and became a doctor. He was working at a local hospital in the Emergency Room. He had started a family, and had an 18 year-old daughter. In a casual conversation one night, he was asked what he would do if his daughter brought home a black man she had decided to marry. His response: he would send her to his home country on the first plane he could book in order to be killed by her family.

Here was an educated man willing to kill his own daughter over something most of us take for granted; her right to choose her own partner in marriage. You want this guy taking care of you in the ER? You want this guy making life-or-death decisions for your loved ones?

To be clear, I'm certainly not advocating taking up arms and crusading against other cultures. I'm merely suggesting that not all philosophical viewpoints are created equal. We have a fairly well-defined set of basic human rights in this country (at least, compared to others). We need not let others shit on them because we're afraid to hurt someone's feelings.

Wash your f***ing hands!

It's a routine that some of you (I won't say many, and I certainly won't say most) can identify with...

You're in a public restroom. You finish your business and head to the sink to wash your hands. When done, you grab enough paper towels to pat dry an adult orca, dab off your hands and perhaps turn off the faucet, then reach for the door handle, tossing your towels in the trash (or the floor, if the trashcan has been inconsiderately placed) on your way out the door.

It's a custom that most of my friends, family, and coworkers are accustomed to. But have you ever stopped to think about it? Like, if you had to explain this ritual to an alien, would you not feel the least bit absurd? Why do you need to grab the handle with a paper towel? Shouldn't it be the single cleanest item in the bathroom? I mean, everyone who touches it has just washed their hands, right? Right?

Sadly, no. No, that's not right. We've all seen the fucking cro-magnon human-like apes that saunter out of the shitter, pause for a glance in the mirror, and hit the street with their shit-hands. Hell, there's a guy at work that I call Edward Sphincterhands...because he was last spotted leaving a steaming pile of poo and fleeing the bathroom like the IRS was after him.

What the hell?

Were you seriously not raised better than that? I'm trying to imagine a mother figure, any mother figure, saying, "You know what? Screw washing your hands. That shit's overrated."

So, those of us with enough common sense to make our way out of bed in the morning without simultaneously drooling, pissing, and shitting ourselves have to go through this weird little dance in the bathroom that simply doesn't make any sense.

And while we're talking about restroom etiquette, let me address another little quirk that I've noticed far too frequently. Just the other day, I saw a man in a suit with a leather-bound notebook walk up to the urinal next to me. Did he tuck the notebook under his arm while he took a leak? Nope. He propped it on the top of the urinal and proceeded to attend to his business. Then, to his credit, he washed his hands. Then picked up his contaminated notebook and walked off.

Chances are pretty slim that he was setting off on some sort of quest to desecrate and then subsequently burn said notebook. No. Odds are, he was heading to a meeting or going to meet someone. And what's he going to do with that fetid, steaming pile of notebook? Well, he's going to set it on the conference table, or worse, on some unsuspecting coworker's desk. Really? What a jackass...

I propose we use just a little common sense, seasoned with a pinch of common courtesy, when we go to the bathroom. Just assume for a second that I don't want to shake hands with your dick. Using logic, one could only come to the conclusion that washing your hands after you manhandle your penis, or worse yet, wipe your ass, is the most proper course of action.

If everyone did so, the "normal" crowd could stop acting like the fucking doorknob is contaminated with sypha-gono-herpa-litis and proceed back to our lives without doing the paper towel waltz with every surface we might touch in the near future.

New blog

Why a new blog? Well, this will sort of be my sanctuary; my meditation. A place for me to vent, gripe, or otherwise blow off steam. A diary, of sorts.

And if someone derives pleasure through my witty banter, or more likely, my pain and/or embarrassment...then that's all well and good too.

I just want a creative outlet to share funny or puzzling observations, bitch about miscellaneous first world problems, and (perhaps most importantly) openly deride some of the obnoxious and downright idiotic behavior that seems to run rampant in our society.