I am proposing a new State Motto

"North Carolina: Twice as good as half a state"

Noses are inherently ugly

I can prove to you, linguistically, that noses are inherently ugly. Consider the following two statements:
1) "I like that sweater. It really brings out your eyes."
2) "I like that haircut. It really brings out your nose."

Structurally, the two sentences are identical. They both even state explicitly that they are compliments. The first is a classic 'nice thing to say' to someone. The second would most likely come off as an insult. Why? Because you are saying that attention is drawn to their nose. That can only be considered an insult if the nose drawing attention is inherently a bad thing. It is a bad thing only if the nose is not considered attractive.

Point made.

I have five MP3 players.

I've got an old hard-drive MP3 player, a CD MP3 player, an iPod, an iPod shuffle, and an iPod nano. What the fuck? Why in God's name do I have five players? How many hundreds of dollars have I spent so I can listen to music while I'm at work? You know what the bitch of it is? I have iTunes on my work computer. If you really want to be picky about it, I don't need any of them. Well, I need one, for when I'm working out, or in the tub watching TV shows I downloaded off iTunes, or sitting on the MAX.

I, on the other hand, have five.

Two of them are in storage. They're way too outdated. The iPod shuffle is up for bid on eBay; currently, the highest bid is $1.30 (plus shipping). The iPod is the one of the five I actually need. The iPod nano... well, I didn't really mean to buy it, and I tried to change my mind, but my bid was already locked in. I want it because I just got those cool new Nike shoes that track your workout and let you know how you're improving over time, which would be REALLY useful. $130 useful, I don't know, but that's the price I paid.

Ultimately, fuck eBay. I tried it once and ended up with an iPod I don't really want. If I had impulse-bought it from a store, it would come with a return policy. Not eBay. I have to take it, and I didn't even know how much it cost. I thought I was getting it for $50. At the last second, it shot up to $85. Whatever. I'm going to use it for my workout, then I'll give it to my fiancee as a birthday present later this year. She'll love it. Actually, I already told her I got it for her.

Part II

Some Clinton supporters seem to believe she is entitled to
the presidency.

–Gov. Bill Richarson

Aside from the fact that I've been vehemently and vocally fighting the term "entitled" and the people who believe in it for the past couple years, it really reminds me of my dipshit "mentors" at my current job– I clearly know more than them, I'm smarter than them, I'm more destined for success, and better than them in every way, but I don't know the protocol in our department, so I have to sit at their desks and watch them work to see how things are done. Then when I start doing something better than them, or making constructive suggestions on how to save our horribly failing department, they're immediately discredited as naive, that I haven't been here long enough to know "how things are done around here." No, I'm perfectly aware of how things work around here; it works in a way that leads to us getting together every two weeks and asking ourselves why the department is in an allegedly uncontrollable downward spiral. The final resolution of every meeting is every individual concluding that "I get too much work, and everyone else is trying to destroy me," while I go back to my desk and answer all the voicemails from customers who will only talk to me directly because they're disgusted with all of my colleagues. This, after I've been available for customer service for all of 6 weeks.

So yeah, I can relate to the situation Barack Obama's in. I'm the customer trying to call him directly, so I don't have to talk to any of the experienced politicians who "know how things are done around here."

She's not even trying anymore

Ok, so she blatantly lied about how she's willing to put herself in danger by running for cover in Bosnia under sniper fire, so what's her excuse when they pull out the footage showing her calmly walking across the runway with her daughter and a bunch of seventh graders (who better to take with you when you're expecting to be gunned down by snipers)? She didn't lie about it, because she didn't write about it in her book.

OOOOOH. See, that's why it's okay. It's only a complete fabrication for the explicit purpose of misrepresenting yourself as capable of being the leader of the free world if it's done in writing.

When asked for a response, Barack gave a stirring speech about how Hillary Clinton rapes black babies in her off time and eats twinkies in front of starving Somalians, but neglected to write the accusation down. So it's okay.

I'm kidding, of course– Barack Obama's not a douchebag.

Britney Spears is proof that we have failed

For the first 215 years of our history as a country and for endless years beforehand it was established that success comes from patience, practice, and hard work. A lot of people were born into money, but for the most part, a straight line could be drawn between success and dedication. That hasn't been the case for all cultures; many cultures based success on bloodlines, superstition, or tradition– those cultures have failed.

Others have written very similar, almost identical blogs about this fact, but I will say it again: in recent history, in my lifetime, there have been enough people who "failed upwards" into a successful place in life to take over from the top of the hill. This was the exact syndrome that led to the fall of Rome (among others). Managers are hiring other dipshits to work below them, and many American companies are failing, not because they are outdated or being outdone, but because the prevailing philosophy at the top has been shameless nepotism.

For those industries where the nepotized dipshits have not yet taken over, they have moved in through another route. This route is paved by a combination of lack of education in our country (ironically, because school boards are electorates of aforementioned cretins) and an amoral intelligence of the wizards behind the curtain. It's hard work to maintain and steer a prodigy: look at the self-destructive natures of many of our greatest musicians, actors, and writers. My personal theory is that man can only reach that certain muse by digging so far into his own soul that he shreds it in the process. But anyway. Those people are almost impossible to control, especially once they hit a point where they know they no longer need the bureaucratic powers that be. It is much easier to steer some podunk flaptwat from Louisiana into the limelight, give her a pushup bra, and market her as the next Joni Mitchell. It only works because intelligence and free thought have been punished in the most recent generations, where the retarded and nonsentient have been given a house on the hills and a credit card (as they are the direct result of those who "failed upward" in the previous generation, and said anti-failure bought a trophy wife, popped out a couple kids, and devoted the rest of his life to neglecting them).

So now we have a mass market of very rich and brainless throwing to the slaughter whichever lamb has the nicest tits. You can tell they're the dumbest of our population because they were somehow surprised when the bitch shaved off her hair in a drug-addled psychosis. No, my friends, that's what people from Louisiana are like. We just usually ignore them until they die at 45. These are the same people who are going to be surprised when Hannah Montana goes apeshit in six years and ends up with an ankle bracelet and a venereal disease. My fine folk, this is Billy Ray Cyrus' daughter. Neither of them made it into Mensa. They're our clowns, our jesters... we chose them to lead our magazine covers because we won't really be all that upset when they prove themselves to be the denegration of society.

Which is exactly what they are. Miley Cyrus did not get where she is by hard work. There is no such thing at age 14. Neither did any of the Backstreet Boys (did you hear? One of the BB's has become a successful producer and savvy businessman and made a dignified success story of his life! You didn't hear that? That's because it'd be fucking absurd). Trust me, the CEO of Ford, the manager of the Yankees, the President of the United States, Britney Spears, and the Senator of New York– they all come from the same pool. We made it past the era of inbreeding, not quite to the level of cybernetic retardation, so instead we have an era of the deaf leading the blind: the retarded, leading the tits.

When to end your marriage

I just read online 9 signs that your spouse is cheating on you. This is on a serious divorce-support site. And they are:

1. Your spouse isn’t in love with you anymore
2. Your spouse is spending a lot of time with “a new friend”
3. Your spouse starts hiding their emails, phone bills, and credit card bills from you
4. Your spouse requests time alone, away from you
5. Your spouse suddenly starts working late or putting in odd hours
6. Your spouse spends large amounts of time on the computer, hangs out in chat rooms, and visits pornographic websites
7. Your spouse suddenly hangs up the phone when you enter the room and is defensive if you ask about it
8. Your spouse starts getting caught in lots of little lies and acts in ways that just don’t add up
9. You think your spouse is cheating on you.
   

A couple things come to mind when I read this.

First off, maybe it’s just me, but if even one of these is true and you can’t figure out that your spouse is cheating without checking on the internet, your spouse deserves better.

Second, Marriages can survive infidelity. It happens all the time. That said, if more than one or two of these are true and your spouse isn’t cheating on you, hire a divorce lawyer. In other words, if my wife starts spending all her time looking at porn and telling me that she can’t come home at night anymore, she better have someone on the side— otherwise, it means that she’s so dissatisfied with me that she would rather spend her time looking at cheap jpegs and drinking alone than spending it with me.

Being lured away on some fling by some tall, dark, and handsome stranger I can understand; but if you just hate your significant other, call it a mulligan and move on.

Refute That

If God didn't want boys to enjoy breasts He wouldn't have made them bouncy.

Now, just to find Amanda Huginkiss...

I received a contract for a guy named Harry Beard today… I showed it to my coworker, and she said, “what’s wrong with that?” I looked at her and said it aloud- “his name is ‘Harry Beard.’” She just shrugged. She totally didn’t get it.

On the plus side, I showed it to one of the two younger guys on the team and he just nodded sympathetically and said, “yeah, last week I had to contract a Michael Hunt.”

It's so hard not to laugh out loud

Co-worker 1 (about 60 years old): “I’m working on a wall of pictures in my house, of me riding every world-class roller coaster in the United States.”

Co-worker 2: “Oh, wow! How many have you ridden so far?”

Co-worker 1: “Just one. Statosphere, in Las Vegas. But I’ve been meaning to go down to San Jose…”

And he's back with a story

Welcome to March. Here's my story.

Let me tell you a little about my dad. He, like I, is given to pass on interesting anecdotes. This became especially interesting over Christmas, because my mom has some very stuck-up brothers who think that if they don’t already know something, it can’t be true (i.e. they know everything). Actually, my mom’s the same way. This can make for awkward conversations, particularly since they’ve had this belief since 1973, and a lot has changed since then. The size of pigs, for example. Why, one year in recent history my dad saw a 700 pound boar at the Ohio State Fair. He told the family about it, how incredibly huge this animal was. They scoffed at him, and said that it boars were usually around 300 pounds. “I know,” said my father, “that’s what qualifies this one as the largest boar in the world.” But they refused to believe him, and believe it or not, he’s been bitter ever since. Now, any time he sees a newspaper clipping about some 900-pound boar winning a prize, he sends it to my uncle (his former brother-in-law), just out of spite. He’s been doing this for the better half of a decade. Very famous story in my family.

So I’m walking with my aunt along the Esplanade, and we’re talking about people being cynical of the air tram, that it’s just so futuristic-looking that it can’t possibly be practical. I say to her, “well, it’s like my dad says, it’s like the 700 pound boar.” “How so?” she asks. “Well,” I say mockingly, “it can’t be done.” She rolls her eyes. “Ugh,” she says, “that’s an image I didn’t want in my head.” We continue walking in silence, then suddenly she says, “oh wait, did you say a 700 pound boar?” “Yeah,” I reply, “what did you think I said?”

“Ooooh!” she exclaims, slightly embarrassed, “I thought you said it was like a 700 pound whore!” “Oh. Oh! No…” I say awkwardly. “No, like a giant pig, like my dad saw at the fair.” “Ok, I misunderstood.” We then continue walking, kind of awkwardly, since I just gave my 50-year-old aunt a vivid mental image of my dad doing a 700 pound whore.

Looking back on it now, though, you know what the most interesting part about the whole thing is? The joke’s still funny. “It’s like a 700 pound whore—it can’t be ‘done.’” Not very often that a joke’s still funny in its misheard version. Of course, when you’re talking about sex, you can make innuendo out of everything.
Now, if you don’t mind, I’m off to Roxy’s to try out one of their fantastic “Vagitarians.”