Work And Job

This week has been kind of weird, to be honest.  I initially took all this week off in anticipation of working somewhere else all week, even though I didn't work this Game last Year and wanted to.  When it wasn't looking as though I was working the Game all week, I had the option of taking back my paid time off to work at my day job instead.  I was severely lacking in paid time off later in the year.  But ... I really, really don't want to work in My Main Department right now.  Why?  Because I might hit somebody in the lab.

Guess I should talk about this now.  Once a week, all of us in The Main Department have to go in and open up packages to start getting urine samples ready to be tested.  It's a menial job, so everybody has to do it.  I think I've complained about this before, but sometimes these samples leak, and so you're reaching in to an open package and touching piss.  Sometimes it's really gross.  I don't know how people are unfazed by this, but I think I'm a very different person now that I have a job whereby I touch piss on occasion.  It's ... debasing.

Moreover, I had a run-in with one of the lab people a couple weeks ago.  This isn't the asshole who was riding me like a high schooler over accidentally cutting myself.  This was some older lady who has her own way of getting through all the hundreds of packages that we need to cut open and whose contents we need to get out for her, in that position, to scan into our system.  She was, let's just say, impatient, and I got that hostile vibe and so I kept away from her as much as possible.  I, of course, don't want to be there at all, but that does not motivate me to work faster.  Anyway, we were getting down to large packages, which the lab has as protocol the thing we do last because it takes time to open boxes that large packages usually come in.  I'm throwing the last of the packages onto the counter, and apparently one of them just happened to slide too close to her, so she throws it back to the other side of the counter -- missing me, but not by a lot -- and says, "No!  Not that!"  And that just made me vent at her: "Hey, sorry I threw that package your way!"  And it was loud enough for her and the other people at the workstation to hear, and probably to sense my defensive tone.

That was a couple weeks ago.  I am sure that if I added back dates this week, I would be sent into the lab.  And not as if I would run into her again -- like us, they are on a rotation as to who opens up packages at this station every day and every week -- but after that blow-up, I think it was a good idea to ensure that I don't go into that lab for another week.  I didn't go in there last week either (that was a decision made by my boss), and I think it's good I go at least two weeks without being seen in there.  Maybe cooler heads will prevail.

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Where was I?  I didn't think I would talk about that incident because I want to talk about the gig I have today.  Anyway, I compromised; I went in to my main job on Monday because I wanted to take back one day of work.  Turns out, by the way, that the day I am taking off next week I am getting back; my boss asked me to come in on Saturday, and that would replace Tuesday, when I am coming back on my flight.  After these two weeks, I will have two more days off of paid time off I can take this fall and winter, which is two more than I thought I would have.

But I am only working this other gig today/Thursday.  The other days ... well, I went and am going to the State Fair.  It's weird to wake up whenever you want to instead of when you have to wake up.  I mean, it's great, but I remember that for three of these four days I could have gone in to work instead.  Instead, I'm waking up largely when my body wants to wake up, which was, I think, 10:45 Tuesday and around 9:15, maybe, yesterday/Wednesday.  And I have been lazing around thinking, "OK, what should I do?"  I am, hate to say it, kind of bored.

And this gig, by the way, starts at 1.  It's a lot better than having, say, a 7 a.m. call time.  But I woke up on my own at a quarter to 10 when I set my alarm for 11:30.  I think I'm ready to go to work now.  But I have 90 minutes to go before it's showtime.  And by the way, I think I am setting my alarm for 11 (to go to the Fair) tomorrow, but my body might be awake well before then.  I was looking forward to my body having time overnight to sleep and wake on its own, and yet it seems like I'm waking up too early.  I might be scaring myself more than I need to.

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This blog post became different than what I initially thought it would be.

Called Out For Being Late But Not Tardy ... Or Tardy But Not Late

This is so fucking stupid ... last week, out of the blue, I get an e-mail from my boss scrutinizing when exactly I punch in to work.  You're allowed leeway, like five minutes from when you're supposed to start (although I also was once told ten, but whatever).  Swiping in after that grace period raises a red flag with bosses.  You allowed only so much before you're called in for, uh, "remediation."  If you're really bad and do it frequently enough, that's grounds for getting fired.  But it rolls over every 365 days, so if you've been really bad for, like, a week, after a year it's off your record.  Besides, they have made exceptions for tardiness when there's been, like, a huge snowstorm that makes it difficult for people to get to work.

This bullshit e-mail is different.  My boss noted that I have not been "late" or "tardy" (I don't know which word is the one I'm supposed to use, but the two are not interchangeable), but for the past month he noted the number of "late/tardy" punches, and he deemed it unacceptable, even though I technically have not run afoul of company policy when it comes to getting to work on time.  He said some fuckin' BS about "not being an ideal worker for the company" or some such.  And then he said, and this is the thing that galls me, is that he is going to be tracking how many times I am late but not tardy (or tardy but not late) for ... well, from now on, fuck if I know, and he'll track by how many minutes I am late.  You fuckin' kidding me?!?!?!  I cannot help but think of that as nothing but a threat.

That leads to self-demeaning acts of stupidity and oppression like yesterday.  I wanted to try and be "a good boy" and get to work on time.  And yet, I still wanted to buy coffee and a bite to eat, and then eat that bite to eat in my car, before punching in.  I got up and got out of the house early to ensure that I could do this all.  But goddamn me for not building in enough time (and, maybe, for ordering oatmeal) and then thinking I could do all this before 10 a.m.  It got down to the brass tacks whereby I ate the rest, tried to gather up my bag, my gloves, and my mocha, and then march through the front door.  I looked down at my watch just after I closed the door to my car and saw it was 10 on the dot.  I didn't feel like running to the door; that would be demeaning, and besides, I didn't know if I wanted to jump through these hoops for my boss, especially since he usually doesn't come in on Sundays.  And yet, when I punched in, it was 10:01, and all I could think of was GODDAMN HIM, HE'S GOING TO FUCKING CALL ME OUT ON THIS!!!  I AM ONLY ONE MINUTE LATE, FOR FUCKING GOD'S SAKE!!!

There is a part of me that thinks he's only doing this because he has to.  The words he used in that e-mail were boilerplate, as if he was following a template of an e-mail he has to send out to prove to his bosses he is keeping his employees in line by making sure they swipe in when the company wants us to.  And I still think ... well, want to think that he's a good guy.  But I harken back to my co-worker getting pissed off over an e-mail my boss sent to her.  And I'll just reveal it now: She told our supervisor, probably venting but there is always a patina of intention when someone says this, that he wanted to rip my boss' head off.  I'm not there -- yet.  Let's just fucking see if I actually want to get to work on time, and if I don't, what the fuck is going to happen to me.  And in the meantime it might behoove me to polish my resume, reach back out to my temp agencies, and think about going back to school again.

Yay, Now It's My Turn To Touch Piss (That's Not Mine)!

Starting today I enter a new department for training.  And it's one I have secretly dreaded.  This is the one where I have to put on a lab coat, go into the lab, and ... well, I'm not really sure what I'm doing, but I think this is the one where, instead of dealing with information on a piss sample and entering onto a computer, I actually have to handle the sample itself.

I've heard many horror stories of broken seals and lids partially opened, thus spilling the urine contents onto a person.  Of course they were gloves, and of course the lab coats are supposed to serve as a level of protection as well.  But it's going to happen.  I'm going to get piss all over myself, and for once, it's neither mine nor a woman I'm trying to fuck.

For a while now I've been semi-taunting everyone in the department I'm usually in about this.  We have run out of our main work most days these days, so that is when everybody from the department finds lab coats and heads out into the lab to, uh, tear into samples of pee.  But not me.  No, since I don't know what the hell to do, and since I don't even have access to the lab, I had to stay out where I am to clean up and wait for them to do their work, ha-ha!  I won't lie; that made me feel special.

But I knew this day would come -- the day I would become them, the day I would debase myself and walk into the swamp of urine just like them.  And that day has arrived.  I'm kind of sad about this day coming, inevitable as it may be.  I just pray I never get piss on my skin, and if I do, I pray that I never inadvertently drink it.  Somehow.  Man, even the thought of foreign piss coming into contact with my body is making me sick.

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Today's going to be kind of huge for me work-wise.  This will also be the first time I put in overtime at this job.  There are ... well, I can't really explain it, but there's a backlog of work that has opened up the possibility of OT, and since I am trained at dealing with this blacklog, I figure I would go in at least an hour early and do it, just to see if I can deal with working at this place for nine hours intentionally.

Oh, and yesterday I agreed to fill in for someone for second shift again.  And today I am going to see if I am going to work for the first time ever at this place on Sunday ... and thus either selling or outright giving away my MNUFC ticket.  Man, a lot of things new and a lot of things coming together at work today.  Hope to hell it works out.

The Thing About Deplorables/Republicans

Last/Saturday night was the White House Correspondents Dinner, and our dumbfuck President held a rally in Michigan because he needed zombies to kiss his ass so he would feel better about himself.  So I want to write this because it's been percolating in my mind for awhile, even though I don't think my thoughts on it are fully formed.  Really, though, trying to suss out just what the fuck happened in 2016 that led our country to ... this is something I won't ever completely understand, and I'm sure people whose jobs it is is to understand what happened will fail just as miserably.  So even though this is just about a part of What Happened, I will say this anyway.

I have heard that some people think Donald Trump has been an utter failure.  Well, he is in many ways, but I believe that the Republicans don't care because they needed a mouth-breather to rubber-stamp all the hateful, dreadful, racist, sexist, classist ideas they have successfully put into law in order to please the cis rich white men that give them money.  What these people say is that we should be lucky that Donald Trump isn't more of an astute politician, such as, uh, Mike Pence or, ick, Dick Cheney.  The thinking goes is that the Republicans would be able to slide anti-democratic policies past the American public so much easier if the loud, vile verbal diarrhea coming out of Trump's mouth right now was hidden under a patina of professional, political cool.  People would be nodding their heads, and even smiling, while swallowing this Republican poison.

I'm not sure that's the case.  It might appear at first glance that this is an argument of substance over style, but my argument is is that to these dumbshits, the style is the substance.  Being loud and vile and openly misogynistic and anti-Semitic is what they want to be.  It is becoming apparent to me, shocked though that I am, that there are a lot of racist assholes living in this country.  And it's not enough just for someone who enacts laws that hurt non-white males.  In fact, it's not enough to these pricks that our President hates non-white males as much as they do.  It is extremely important to these prairie goons that our President says he hates non-white males as much as they do.  These deplorables don't want to hide their hate.  They want the freedom to spew their bigoted shit and not get called out for it.  Fuck, they want to be applauded for it.  They want to scream this garbage and have other deplorables say it back to them so they know they're not alone in this cruel world.  That, in my opinion, is much of the reason why they voted for Trump: He is explicitly, and obviously, a man that is just like them, despite the fact that he, in so many ways, is not like them.

There is a scary subset of subhumans who will run into war with rubber spoons if Donald Trump tells them there are Muslims invading.  The vicious combination of anger and openness is the one thing that animates and turns on these people.  And so they won't like someone who plays it cool, even if that Republican guy (and it always has to be a guy) will sign bills that make non-cis, non-white, non-males just as oppressed as they appear to be now, from a hegemonic standpoint, under this Shitler as prez.  It may be the case that this hypothetical Republican figure would make it easier to get such putrid laws passed.  But putting aside my grander belief that Donald Trump pretty much represents Republicans and Republicanism, I don't think having someone from the same party will automatically keep these non-housebroken voters in a frenzied lockstep to vote Republican.  If they get someone who couches his lying crap in euphemism and deft word-twisting and shit-eating grins, they'll just get confused, and they'll probably believe that such a candidate is a librul.  No, they need a drunken, probably demented asshole who has no filter and opens his fat, disgusting mouth to unload whatever crazy, debasing bullshit that comes out of his shit mouth.  There are Americans Living Among Us who hear Donald Trump and go, "FUCK YEAH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" and then head to the polls to vote for him and douchebags like him.

There are legitimate worries about the future of our democratic processes: Gerrymandering, voter suppression, Russian influence.  But who I'm most afraid of are these people, these deplorable Republican sheep who will believe anything some crackpot says so long as he also says things that make them feel good about the people they hate.  These brainwashed psychos scare the living shit out of me.

Training My Replacement

So the person who is taking over my job -- well, the job that I am filling in on an interim basis -- is coming today/Monday.  Naturally ... naturally?  Is that word?  Anyway, since she is taking over this job -- my job -- and she doesn't know how to do it, I will be tasked with telling her what to do and how to do it.  Well, to the best of my ability, because even after a month I think I know how to do, um, half of the stuff I'm supposed to do.

I hate training.  I go back to that third and final year at the flu billing place where I was thrust into training about 16 people to do my job.  In retrospect, I should have been paid double for all that shit, or at least got a full-time job.  I'm back to doing that again, if only for a week, and I'm nervous.  I felt like I needed to look presentable, so I got my hair cut Saturday afternoon and I just got done shaving my face after showering.  (That didn't go so well.  Blade must be dull; should get a new one.)

I don't know if it's going to help.  I'm going to be such a mess in telling her all that I know (which is not much) that I think I'll leave her in worse shape than she came in.  I'm just not good at communicating what needs to be done to another person.  I wasn't good at it at the flu biller place, and I sure as fuck won't be good at it now.  I thought I should think about it this weekend, but I haven't thought about it one peep.  Which sucks because I'll be there for 40 hours and she'll be there for 40 hours and neither one of us will know what to do with each other after I stammer out instructions.

But a thought came through my head this weekend: Why in the hell am I so worried about training my replacement?  I mean, I'm training my replacement -- I am teaching things to the person who is taking my job.  Why in the fuck would I be so enthused about doing that?  Shit, why would I even prepare myself to do that?  What vested interest do I have in helping my successor succeed?  And come to think of it, why can't I get this job full-time?

This brings me back to a test scoring project I did late in the summer.  The first day (and have I blogged about this?) we were told that we probably won't be doing this project ever again because we are training a machine to grade essays.  We were training our replacement there, too.  I don't know how in the hell artificial intelligence can score papers, and even if they can, I don't see what state Departments of Education would want to rely on computers for kids' educational prospects.  But that was the deal.  And like a chump I went to work anyway, getting that AI so good at what we've been doing just fine for years that it'll just push us into poverty.  That same shit is going on here, and I should be in a better position to avoid debasing myself into doing bullshit like that.

(By the way, for those who asked why I feel this way when I was trained for this job by the person I succeeded; she was leaving this job on her own for a different position.  She was not forced to train her replacement like I am.)

So why am I doing this?  I don't know.  I really don't think it's in my best interest to train her with gusto.  But there are, I think, two reasons which prevent me from totally blowing this off.  First of all, while she is the person who's taking my job from me, it's not really her fault.  I'm sure she has no ill intent to maliciously push me into unemployment.  And second of all (and this may be the salient point), I was told when I got this assignment that they are looking for someone else.  As much as I think it's logical to be considered for this post, I was told from the outset that they're conducting a job hunt while I was doing the work.  So this shouldn't be a surprise.

But it still sucks.  So I may or may not think about what I'm going to say.  If I get a reputation for being a malcontent, that's alright.  I would be standing up for myself, my dignity and my principles.

In Defense Of Slut-Shaming

OK, I am still not entirely sure this is true.  I mean, a high school-aged girl decides she wants to get gangbanged by 25 members of the football team in the girls' room?  This is something straight out of Big Tits In School, and therefore I can't quite believe it.

This reminds me of this semi-famous incident at an Enimen concert in Ireland in the summer of 2013, where concertgoers caught a girl sucking the dicks of people she apparently didn't know.  Her life is ruined.  And the girl who took two dozen football players in all of her holes is going to be disciplined for her illegal sex acts.

And you know what?  Good.

Hear me out.  I'm not letting the guys off the hook on this.  Those who think the young men are "heroes" because they "scored" are seriously deluding themselves.  I don't care if these young women are offering sexual services, and the excuse of, "Well, do you blame me?" is a patriarchal standpoint that absolves a party that is equally to blame for an act that, while great while you're in the middle of it, offends the social fabric and certainly shouldn't be allowed in a public place.

I also want to add the caveat that I don't think that I am fighting against a very popular opinion, at least I don't think so.  In fact, I think a lot of people are troubled by the actions of the women -- and I do mean actions.  The female at this concert three years ago and this teenager at the school are by no means victims.  They may be misguided, but ultimately, I am certain they decided to orally pleasure and get reamed by these boys.

So, yes, they should be shamed for being sluts.  Because, I'm afraid, they are.  The (very small) minority opinion I hear from some dark, distant corners is that we shouldn't judge the females for doing what they want to do.  No, you goddamn right I can judge them, and I should, and by the way, it doesn't matter that these girls might be girls and not women of legal age.  I don't like to slut-shame, but goddammit, if you are going to partake in sexual activity with people you don't know, and decide to do it in a situation where you could get caught in public -- let alone potentially be videotaped -- I'm telling it like it is.  You are a slut.

Yeah, many of my blog posts are about me paying money for sexual favors.  I am arrogant enough to think what I'm doing is different from what those women are doing.  For one thing, I am paying money, an equitable transaction for services rendered.  For all I know, these two are doing it out of the goodness of their hearts, or they wanted to explore their sexuality, or they just wanted to please men.  I guess those are all altruistic motives, but it still sounds strange to me do be so "generous" to people you don't know.  And that leads to my second difference, and the one that might be more important.  Nearly all of the women I've had dalliances with are people I know -- not completely, not in a way that I would consider them to be friends, but these are not people I just met at a concert, and these aren't people I'm delusional to believe that if I splay out my legs for them, they'll like me.

This brings up the difference between men and women.  I can't shake that the fundamental difference between the sexes is biological -- that is, men have a penis and does the action, and women have the vagina and must take the action.  From that difference becomes a multitude of beliefs and patterns and, really, history that has defined men and women since time immemorial, and probably will so long as humans exist.  I'm afraid that that's going to be the way it is.  It is unfair that, as the receptor in this relationship, women will have to defend any action they commit when it comes to sex.  Men get to stick their dicks into everything they want (well, not everything -- men who commit rape are solely responsible for their actions), and women have to play defense because they have the mouths and vaginas men want to stick their dicks into.  It is reprehensible.  Bullshit, even.  And yet, if you are willing to submit to these sexual acts, and there are no good excuses for you in doing them, especially to complete strangers (sexual abuse, drugs), are you completely without responsibility?

So let me say this.  The slut who sucked all those dicks at the Eminem concert should be ashamed for giving it up to men she doesn't know.  The men whom this girl went down on should be ashamed for prostituting themselves in a public forum.  The girl in this bathroom should be ashamed for allowing her to be debased by 25 boys.  The boys in this bathroom should be ashamed for assembling a fuck train on an underage girl in a goddamn school.  All of these people are whores, men and women.  Just admit it.  All of you are whores for doing, and liking, these sex acts in such open places with people you certainly are not in committed and loving relationships with.  And all of you should be damned for it.  Just do it and accept the consequences and try not to bullshit me with saying you have free will or it's not fair for people to judge you.  All of you, men and women -- if you do this, you're nothing but a whore.

So, by that logic, I should be ashamed too.  Have I just contradicted what I said about me being better than these people at the concert and in the high school?  Maybe.  Am I a whore?  Well ... of course.  Will I stop?  Probably not.

Where The State Of Journalism Is Going, I'm Afraid

I fell in love with the wrong profession.  And I was born in the wrong time, a time where technology meant the democratization of information that sacrifices reporters (at least their salaries) that no longer can serve as gatekeepers to information and guardians against disinformation.

I believe basically everything in this (original) writing piece by Jason McIntyre of his self-made, now-USA Today-affiliated site The Big Lead.  It's about the morphing business model of CBSSports.com, which serves as a window to McIntyre's inspection of the current and future state of journalism.  I was pessimistic about the industry now, seeing as I am blogging about this while working in an industry that is not what I went to school for.  And I have never visited CBSSports.com much because ESPN.com was the first sports website I went to upon the birth of the Internet in 1993-4 and, besides Dennis Dodd on the college football beat, I never had a reporter I liked so much that I would follow him or her to a different website.

Nevertheless, what apparently is going on over there (and, once again, I believe McIntyre's take on the low morale over there completely) makes me very sad for Dodd, who's still there, the people working there, and the profession in general.  Put aside the important fact that their boss and the guy who runs the website seems to be an abusive asshole.  Journalists are now being forced to justify their jobs and existence not through how good their reporting is but by how many clicks/pageviews they can get for their work.  That convinces companies to purchase ad revenue on the website, which generates the money for everybody who works there to get paid.  I understand the business model, but it's sad that this, logically means that to make money, you have to have something that grabs eyeballs.

And note that I didn't say "write," just "have."  McIntyre is saying that CBSSports.com is rapidly changing their workforce, replacing traditional reporters that go out, research and interview for stories with bloggers and -- that blasted word -- aggregators, people that sit in front of their computers and scour social media (Twitter seems to be the site du jour) for any granular information that was actually "found," throw in some words of their own to make it "theirs," make the headline as salacious as possible, and hope for the best.  The thinking goes is if the only thing that matters is pageclicks, why pay anyone to find news when you can pay some schlub much less in order to, basically, steal news from someone else (which, just to evade accusations of plagiarism, is parsed with some thought or opinion from the blogger/aggregator or an attribution)?  That's what CBSSports.com is doing right now.  And, really, the business model demands that all journalistic websites, and really all journalism entities, should (and will) go in that sorry direction.

If that's the case, what's the use of reporting?  There will be no news.  Instead there will be just ... "stuff," probably put out by the entity itself, and therefore will be spun in a way that puts them in a positive light.  That's why I hate that every single team now has a writer.  All of them used to be reputable reporters at newspapers, but they're now the whore of the team, so everything they write should be considered not as fact but as public relations.  And forgive me to sound paranoid, but if go down that rabbit hole to its most efficient conclusion, there will be no "facts" to report, no "truth" to be found.  Instead we'll go on the Internet and see things that powerful teams and corporations want us to see and convince us is true.

I know there are people that want facts, that want the news that we need to know, not just crap that want to know.  But there aren't enough of those people, and the people that want facts may or may not want to pay for it.  That's why journalists willingly work for teams that will pay them a good salary, and that's why powerful sports websites just turns into a waystation where news is passed around like bongs, where any tweet becomes information, and where everyone will debase themselves just so they can hit a number and get the approval of their prick boss.

Journalism may be dead.  Take it away, Brian Wilson/Beach Boys:

48 Hours And I Still Don't Fucking Know If They're Pissed At Me Or Not

So the first game of the season is on Saturday, two days away, and I still have not heard from the two people in the club who still might be really, really pissed at me -- one for what I didn't do for the party, the other for, I hear, acting weird and being an asshole guest.  I mused on Wailing And Failing that I should e-mail them, but I so far haven't.  I might be over-dramatizing things, so I don't want to come off as desperate.  Instead, this silent treatment means I'm banking on them being all hunky-dory with me even despite all I have heard.

This is killing me.  I need the active members of this club to continue to come to games, and I don't know if they're going to do it because they seem to be angry with me.  If they are pissed at me, what's the use of reaching out ... unless I'm totally wrong and, in fact, I might be making things worse by not reaching out and asking if everything is OK between us.

This is my second year as president of the club, and I don't remember freaking out over how the club's going to react last year.  Part of my fear this year is that I'm not 100% sure that we can watch games at this bar even though we've been going here for two years now.  Until I hear it from the horse's mouth -- which is the owner's -- my heart's beating a mile a minute.  Plus, I have to start fundraising again, and whoring for money is something I am never comfortable with.

But those things are in the back of my mind.  I need to know if these two people are cool with me.  The question is, Should I e-mail them?  Fuck if I know what to do.

Who Died And Named You Naming God, Weather Channel?

I have to say this: Weather Channel, you don't have the fucking right to name winter storms.

First of all, they're just winter storms.  There are several every year, probably more than hurricanes.  That doesn't mean they need to get a name.  They can be identified by the proximity to a holiday.  For example, we still talk about the "Thanksgiving Blizzard" of 1991.  That's enough.

Second of all, you're not the government.  The government gets to name hurricanes because hurricanes are weather events of a magnitude much greater than winter storms -- sad but true! -- and it's an easy way to identify them in case they're bad enough to be etched into history books.  "Well, why can't we get to name storms?  The gummit gets to name storms but we can't?"  Yeah, the gummit can name hurricanes but you don't get to name winter storms.  Because they're the government and you're the fucking Weather Channel.

Third of all, does the Weather Channel really think these names are going to stick?  Do you think Minnesotans or New Yorkers are those who had to sleep in their cars in Atlanta are going to look back on that storm 10, 20 years from now and say, "Man, do you remember Winter Storm Maximus?"  Why the fuck are we going to anthropomorphize winter storms just because the Weather Channel said so?  I hope this doesn't catch on.  If so, that means a corporation has brainwashed us sheep into forever referring to a simple blizzard by a name a weatherman/executive producer/focus group chose.  Come on, we're better than that!

I will say one thing: While Jim Cantore's shrill, melodramatic behavior belies his look of a meteorological Mr. Clean, he had the balls to knee this jackass college student, and he should have put a shoulder into that heckling punk and knock him on his ass:



But then the Weather Channel debases its own putative image as sober and straightforward by splashing this confrontation all over its website.  Aren't you guys just supposed to talk about the weather instead of boasting about an on-location mishap?  And the YouTube clip breathlessly asserts, "Cantore Knees Attacker."  "Dumbfuck" is more accurate.  "Attacker?"  Get over yourself.

What you'll also see all over the Weather Channel site are ads telling you to call DirecTV and demand they bring back the Weather Channel.  DirecTV dropped them over one of those carriage fee disputes.  I say, if they're going to continue to be arrogant enough to think they can name storms, fuck them.

Changes To Satellite Radio

Because National/Minnesota Public Radio started their pledge drive today -- something I sheepishly stay away from while they're doing it because it's debasing -- I am going to be listening to a little more satellite radio on my way to and from work.

Today, in preparation for a hellish commute (which turned out not to be so hellish; I got home only a little bit after 6!!!) I turn it on and, while still trying to pay attention to the road, flip through my pre-programmed favorites.  Except that one was not coming in.  Even taking into account bad reception -- the highway dips low for a spell, which often means Sirius XM cuts out -- it still wasn't coming in.  So, at the risk of running into a car, I look and down and see that when I hit Favorite No. 10, it reverts back to The Joint, Favorite No. 9.  Which means only one thing: There has been a channel change.

And yep, it happened, today.  No biggie because I have to confess something: That channel is one I never listened to.  In fact, I'm not quite sure if that channel that got moved was Christina Radio, which I think it was.  I didn't have the intention of listening to Hispanic talk radio.  This is the result of yet another channel realignment that happened before today.  That channel, 143 I think (just checked; it either is or was BYU Radio ... shit, I have no idea what channel number No. 10 is!), was the traffic channel for the Twin Cities.  When 143 was given to Christina Radio, I forgot how to reprogram my Favorites.  And it's be a long time if I've kept the same numbers as it has realigned yet again.

I was too lazy, but now that Channel 143/Favorite No. 10 is being unused on my receiver, I think it's time I look into it.

I Have A Pimple On My Ass Rim, And Tonight I Shat Blood

Had what I thought was a zit for some time, about three months.  But I was working at the time so I didn't have the chance to get it checked out till I was out of a job and was able to take in my check-up.

Showing your genitals to your doctor, let alone bending over so the doctor can see your asshole, is always debasing -- especially if your doctor's a woman.  But the first time I saw her I didn't have a chance to ask for a male doctor, and since she seemed to listen to me, I've stayed with her.  Anyway, she looked at it and said it's basically a pimple that's one the far end of my asshole.  I have sat on that thing and felt pain, and I even felt an itch go up my rectum, so I had a feeling something was up.  Oh, that and the fact that whenever I wipe my ass after I shit I see blood.  In fact, that's the first sign something was wrong down there.

My doc gave me pills and also told me to wash it regularly, of course.  I think spending too many days wearing tight long underwear formed this pimple, but washing myself still isn't something I do regularly.

Couple days ago I finished the pills and the itching was gone, plus I didn't feel that zit whenever I sat down.  But things changed tonight when I had my bowel movement.  The blood on the toilet paper came back after not seeing it for a few days.  Worse yet, when I got up the toilet had an ominous red tinge to it.

The things is, however, I'm not in pain.  We'll see what happens the next few days before I really panic.

The Time Of The Year Where NPR Whores Itself

Pledge drive is almost over, thank God.  I find it almost unlistenable these times of the year.

I don't know when I took to National and Minnesota Public Radios.  I know it was after college, because I was talking to one of the people I considered a friend while I was in college, a fellow journalism student, who wretched at his assignment of listening to NPR, and I remember sympathizing with him.  So I guess it's old age that prompted me to turn away from the local Top 40 station after it ran, like, the same goddamn Christina Aguilera song the third time in three hours and listen in on an important story going on in some other part of the world.

But, of course, the difference between public radio and private radio is the way they make their money.  Private radio, like that Top 40 station, advertise.  But public radio doesn't advertise; they solicit donations from "members."  So in a tradeoff for commercial-free news and entertainment, several times a year they do these pledge drives, where they openly solicit cash.  Sometimes donations will be matched by N/MPR's corporate sponsors, and sometimes they offer little gifts as incentive.

I never have donated.  I should, but the asshole in me thinks that once I sign up, they're just going to hound me every pledge drive to donate a little more.  If they promise not to do that, I can give, oh, a dollar a month.  But I think that's something they just won't do.  And if they're not going to leave me alone, I will turn away once they go into their pledge spiel.

And it's kind of weird to see that the people soliciting fronting these drives are the very reporters who deliver the news I hear every day.  It really is jarring to hear, say, Tom Crann or Cathy Wurzer go from talking about the massacre going on in Syria or the debate over Obamacare one segment during the hour to shilling tote bags and thanking new and sustaining contributors over the air.  In fact, I will say it's unbecoming.  It's downright unprofessional for these reporters who put on a dignified air for, say, 340 days of the year, and then once it comes to pledge time, they get all happy and folksy, like they want to put their arms around you and buy you a beer, just so they can get some money from you.  Not only is it strange, it feels incredulous.

Now, I understand that this is the only way National and Minnesota Public Radios are going to survive.  I really do appreciate the unbiased reporting work they do.  But beyond the fact that I don't have money to spare, I find it a little weird to hear people totally change their attitude on-air.  Hopefully, since the fiscal end of the year for MPR is ending on the 30th (I think), this will all be over ... until the next pledge drive, some two or three months from now.

These are just some thoughts about something I noticed.

We Are Being Treated Like Animals

Singing for tuition money? Might as well volunteer to be raped for the monthly rent.