Yes, I Was Once On South Park

I wish I could be animated. It would be real good. I'm a little behind the times, but after catching on to the Myspace train, I realized that a lot of those hip kids have versions of themselves animated like characters from the hit TV series South Park. Being the obsessive idiot that I am, I investigated further and came upon this wonderful site where you too can make yourself into an animated resident of South Park. It's pretty swell, but it can get frustrating right quick. There is no control to go back, so if you do something wrong, you have to start over. Also in order to save your guy or gal, you cannot simply right click. You must use the "print screen" button on your keyboard and then paste the screen capture into an image editing program like Photoshop. From there you have to eliminate the rest of the screen shot not having to do with your image. By this point, you wonder if you still want to even try this, but I urge you to. It is for your own good. After a while, you can obsess over it and make versions of all of your friends, family, and co-workers, but what kind of moron would do something like that?

An example of my handywork.

We Don't Get Mad, We Get Italian

As Retail Service Workers, we do not get much respect. People do not understand the behind the scenes work we do as "gnomes" to make stores look presentable and the workload we take off of actual employees of stores, so that they may be even more invisible when you come-a-shopping in their establishment. Even those employees sometimes cannot give us props for doing our job.

For instance, recently a worker in one of these stores approached one of my supervisors complaining of how dispicable we were for leaving such a mess for him to stare at over several days. As he badgered my co-worker, our boss, The Don, stepped in to make some sense of this. If anyone else were to attempt to make sense of this retail anomaly, it would hurt their head worse than receiving a blow to the cranium from one of those keen Ludell sledgehammers that we service. He did this in a calm, yet stern manner, comparable to Al Pacino in The Godfather films. Rather does he lose his cool, but his words speak volumes, and if one were to not listen, they would experience his wrath.

He asked this fellow how he knew it was his boys leaving this mess. No answer. He asked how a "responsible and upstanding" employee could pass such a mess up so many times and only complain about it. No answer. By feeding the nonsense back at this man, our boss defended our honor and converted this numb nut into a bumbling idiot. Then in one swift motion, as the man walked away, The Don, ripped one of our wired book racks off the wall and slammed it into the idiot's calves. The whole scen reminded me of Joe Pesci losing it in Casino.

You have heard of "going postal", but this is an example of how an IRS worker goes Italian. We can stay so cool and calm until an eventual breaking point. It's bound to happen.

The Filipino Fans Have Spoken

It's amazing how much of a response I have gotten for the way I treat the Filipino Mafia. By no means do I hate the boys. On the contrary, I have much respect for them as brethren in the Order of Retail Service Workers. My only beef is how they treat my boss, the Don of the IRS (Italian Retail Service) Workers division. Things have improved though, as we have joined forces to take on Knorks.

The cracker girls really eat up the Pinoys. I'd like to refer them to clothing that they may express themselves through. T-Shirt Hell has these great shirts that are available in various styles that may be of interest. Ciao!

Barney Fife Is No More...Don Knotts Dead At 81

Don Knotts photo from Entertainment Weekly

Strangely enough, I brought up Barney Fife about a week ago while posting about names for my fork and knife combo. Now Barney is no more. I just caught the news that Don Knotts died yesterday. As a kid, I watched The Andy Griffith Show because my parents watched it a lot. I also remember catching him on Three's Company back in the day. He was a very entertaining fellow. This may be because he made famous the lovable loser and bumbling idiot types, which I probably fall into the categories of at times. He gave us a good name though.

Also see:

• Don Knotts on IMDB
• the odd Official Don Knotts Site
• BarneyFife.com

Aiding Mexican Janitors

So I was doing my duty (some say "making doody") in the john at a Home Depot the other day. One of the Mexican janitors that work there was mopping up as I did my business.

I think it is safe to say that 98% of the janitors at the Home Depots that I've set foot in are Mexican and do not speak English. That isn't a knock on them, but it does make things interesting at times.

Anyway, he was mopping along and was cleaning out the stall adjacent to mine. Then he began reaching his mop under the door and walls of my stall. He kept mopping up to my feet and around them. My belt, which was drooping onto the tiled floor, even got tangled in the mop several times. Rather than being angry, I was simply amused by this. After pushing the mop into my feet a bit, I decided to lift them to make things easier for him. He even finished my stall and came back minutes later to repeat the process. When I finished, there was a small puddle of mop water at my feet, which was dirtied by the bottoms of my filthy shoes, therefore negating any good he thought he was doing through his persistence.

I probably could have said something, but I figured it would have confused the whole situation more. This way we both accomplished what we were setting out to do. And what a fine job he did.

Bien, bien.

A Colony of Bigfoot...or Bigfoots...or Bigfeet?

More than one man in a gorrila suit?

The informative Disinformation site has broken what I consider to be the story of the year so far. A society in Malaysia claims to have scientific evidence of a Bigfoot colony.

'The Johor Wildlife Protection Society said it has "scientific evidence" to prove the existence of Bigfoot whose reported sightings recently in the Johor jungles have excited the world's media.'Not just one Bigfoot but a whole colony of the giant, hairy creatures which the society named "Orang Lenggor" (Lenggor People) as one was spotted in an area by that name, said the society's secretary Tay Teng Hwa.' (Malaysian National News Agency article).

I'm still not sure what to call more than one Bigfoot since that's all we're accustomed to thinking of, but this truly is astonishing. According to this society's rep., Tay Teng Hwa (a name that flows off the tongue), "The adult creatures are between 10 and 12 feet tall while their children are 6 to 7 footers. Seventy percent of the Orang Lenggor have a human appearance but the rest resemble apes," he said.

I do question whether or not this is just a bunch of Malaysians hopped up on some hybrid hashish sitting on eachothers' shoulders in gorrila suits, because we all know the original Bigfoot footage was a man doing just that, but still looked very convincing and inspired the hit film Harry and The Hendersons.

I did manage to acquire a photo of one of the more human looking child Lenggors by bartering with the society. Let's just say the deal involved patio furniture, knorks, and the promise of a gnome in return.

Here it is...


It appears that they have already adapted human clothing and what appears to be eyeglasses. We can only wait for the Malaysians to make their expedition into the colony in March or April and then come back with their findings to discuss what all of this really means. The truthiness is out there.

Also see: Wikipedia: Sasquatch

DiabetoBlog #100!: How Many More Must Die?

I have been living in my current place since late November. I have new roomies though. In the past couple of weeks, a herd of mice checked in. I tried to tell my landlady, but she gave me some bullshit line of "the key to urban living is to keep a clean place". To this day we have killed 9. We must be filthy.

I am keeping a photo log for legal protection and my amusement. So cheers to the mouse excrement that surrounds me and my kin! And happy 100th.

When Knorks Meet the Mafia...

My last blog discussed how I discovered that the Knork exists, but I had the same idea and a better marketing scheme. Yesterday I received a memo from the former wrestler I work with , which I share with the blogosphere on conditions of anonymoty. I'll quote it verbatim:

Some engineer geek at Cessna saw a prop shear off a prototype plane and slice through a cow in an adjacent pasture while trying to cut his roast beef at lunch with a plastic fork thus inspiring the knork, perfect balance, cutting ability etc. He immediately resigned and started Knork Industries. Being a geeky engineer though, he has no idea how to market the knork. The web site sucks and the testimonials are fake. This is where the Mafia steps in and convinces him that he needs a professional marketing team. There is still money to be made. There may not be a fountain with Greek goddesses but I can see a small pond with a spitting frog... and I know where we can get one cheap.

I see great management skills in this man, especially considering his background in sports entertainment. He may not be The Don, but he has a point. Why shall we give up because the Knork exists? And he is absolutely right about those testimonials...check out those fake grins. I suppose the Filipinos and the Italians may have to combine their forces for this one.

Just When you Think You Have A Million Dollar Idea...

I heard once that the average person comes up with two million dollar ideas a year, and simply lets them go by.

I have always had this great idea to combine a knife and fork. The spoon and fork mated to create the spork, and look what that did for KFC. You know you try to saw food with a fork, and sometimes it gets frustrating, so why not add a serated edge to it? I ran this idea by the guys at work during one of our famous business lunches not long ago. We would call it the Knork, which I'll admit that one of the Filipino Mafia was behind the name. There would be plastic and silverware Knorks. People could convert their old useless forks into Knorks when the Knork man came through their neighborhood in the Knork truck, which would have a giant Knork laid across the roof. There would be different varieties like golden Knorks, Knorks with cartoon characters on the handle, Knorks with collapsible handles, Knorks as military weapons for poking and then sawing. I even devised Knork Industries Headquarters as a spacious modern office building with a giant Knork fountain out front, flanked by a Greek goddess on each side.

Then today, it happened. No, I didn't even get my prototype made. I found out the Knork already exists. Apparently these folks just can't market their product well. This innovative and genius product exists, and not many even know about it. It's a crying shame. They even have the curved edges on the tines that I thought up all by myself to assist in spreading and scooping. And they come in plasticware and regular flatware. How could this happen? How could someone come up with the same idea as me, but before me, and ruin it by not having creative infomercials with people hilariously attempting to saw their food with forks to no avail??! How could they not have Knork men driving Knork trucks? And where is their Knork fountain??! I am obviously thoroughly disappointed.

I guess my only option is to make a generic knockoff with a better marketing campaign. It could be my key to financial freedom and my ticket out of the Retail Servicing industry. I could give the boss a job as a Knork man, but I'd have to change the name. Fife is too easy and reminds me of Barney Fife. Maybe I'll just skip to the next step--the Spnork! I'll be swimming in the dough a la Demi Moore in Indecent Proposal in no time.

• Knork.net

Speaking of million dollar ideas, check out this statement from the folks at Terracycle:

At TerraCycle we manufacture affordable, powerful, organic products that are
not only made from waste, but are also packaged entirely in waste! TerraCycle Plant Food™ is made by feeding premium organic waste to millions of worms. The worm poop is then liquified into a powerful organic plant food and bottled directly in used soda bottles.

Yes folks, worm poop plant food. Another genius idea, but who has heard of this, and is TerraCycle Plant Food really a catchy name?? Take a page from the million dollar Butt Paste play book, BE OBVIOUS AND UP FRONT. Just call it Worm Poop Plant Food. I would buy it just based on that. Why am I in the Retail Servicing Industry anyway? If your company needs any marketing ideas, just drop me a line. Me and my boys can discuss it over a bagel break.

Enigma Dick, the Boozer?

Interesting excerpt from today's White House press briefing with Scott McClellan, during which a reporter questioned why Cheney's blood alcohol level wasn't taken after he shot his buddy, especially considering the men admitted to drinking during lunch earlier in the day. Also, the VP was not questioned by the po-po's at all until the next day. The reporter's point being that regular Joe citizen wouldn't have been treated so nicely. She must remember that this is America, and politicians and celebrities are different from us. If Dick killed Mrs. Cheney and blamed it on a one armed man, a one armed man did it. Case in point: O.J., Robert Blake, Winona Ryder, Robert Downey Jr., Gary Condit...the list goes on forever.

I also thoroughly enjoyed the fact that when Dick finally decided to discuss this whole matter, he chose Fox News. How convenient.

• Great piece in Newsweek about Cheney being an against-type VP: Dick Cheney, the enigma

What Have You Done Dick?

What seemed to be simply humor food has turned into quite a serious and controversial situation. VP Cheney "accidentally" shoots a man, let's the ranch owner break the news, and now the victim, 78-year-old Harry Whittington, has a "silent heart attack" because one of the several pellets lodged in him has moved to his heart--on Valentine's Day. Sounds like Dick has a sick deal with the devil and was pulling some strings on Tuesday.

Doctors still are optimistic about Whittington's prognosis, but that's what they said before this "setback". I am so easily amused, as usual with White House Press Secretary Scott McClellan's handling of this fiasco. And once again, David Gregory from NBC has come through as the hero trying to penetrate the forcefield of silence that this administration puts up. An excerpt from a Washington Post article dated Tuesday morning:

The most heated public moment occurred during McClellan's off-camera
"gaggle" with White House reporters yesterday morning. It featured NBC's David
Gregory, one of McClellan's most persistent inquisitors over the last year, who
raised his voice while asking a question about the incident.

"Hold on," McClellan interrupted, pointing out that "the cameras aren't on right now. You can do this later."

"Don't accuse me of trying to pose to the cameras," Gregory replied. "Don't be a jerk to me personally when I'm asking you a serious question."

"You don't have to yell," McClellan said.

"I will yell," said Gregory, jabbing his finger in McClellan's direction. "If you want to use that podium to try to take shots at me personally, which I don't appreciate, then I will raise my voice, because that's wrong."

"Calm down, Dave. Calm down," said McClellan evenly.

The two men spoke privately after the gaggle, Gregory said later. No apologies were exchanged. "I said what I said and I meant what I said," Gregory said. He said he and McClellan get along "very well," a point agreed upon by McClellan during a brief interview.

"David's a good guy and a good reporter," McClellan added. He said that yesterday was "one of those days where I knew exactly what to expect."

This nonsense never gets old. Now I understand why people voted for Bush. This crap is so ridiculous, that it's entertaining, moreso than Grey's Anatomy or Desperate Housewives. We are a pop culture society of convenience, and the politics of today play to both of those aspects.

Fun With Video (Not My Own)!

One of the members of the Filipino Mafia referred me to this trailer for Brokeback to the Future, which reminded him of my posting on Shining. Both are genius recuts of known films to make trailers for "different" motion pictures.

The Brokeback clip was done by a video sketch comedy troupe from Emerson College, alma mater of Pete Parisi (RIP) of World Wide Magazine fame and the subject of my documentary, P.E.P.

This article from CTV in Canada discusses the impact on humor that the film, Brokeback Mountain, has had. It also mentions this trailer for a sequel to Top Gun, a la Gay Cowboy flick. The quality is not as good, but still worth checking out. These video dorks with no time on their hands are very clever.

While on YouTube, I also found this clip entitled "Lazy Sunday" , by Andy Samberg and Chris Parnell from SNL, which I saw on SNL several weeks back and cannot get out of my head. It is also referred to as "The Chronic-WHAT-cles of Narnia". It's dope, man.

Dick Shot A Quail In Texas, Just To See It Was A Man?

My last post concerned recent events involving the White House that some would deem "effed up". To add more to my arsenal, we learn today that Vice President Dick shot a man yesterday. Technically it was an accident, and they were hunting, but the details are still a bit sketchy.

For instance, Dick's office did not report this until almost 24 hours later, after the local paper broke the story earlier today. The men were wearing bright orange vests, but apparently Dick was fixated on his quail and didn't realize he shot one of his hunting companions in the cheek, neck, and chest. The companion/victim was one Harry Whittington, described as "a millionaire attorney from Austin". The AP states further:

Whittington has been a private practice attorney in Austin since 1950 and has long been active in Texas Republican politics. He’s been appointed to several state boards, including when then-Gov. George W. Bush named him to the Texas Funeral Service Commission.

Katharine Armstrong, who owns the property, summed up the event well by saying, “...the vice president picked out a bird and was following it and shot. And by god, Harry was in the line of fire and got peppered pretty good.”

Granted, the man was shot with pellets, but he was bleeding, and despite being reportedly "stable and doing well", Whittington is in intensive care. Who knows what he did to deserve this hit from the President's right hand man? And is this only the beginning from our vigilante federal government? If one of us disagrees with them, could we be the next to get "peppered real good"??!

• Diabetoblog previous posting: MC Dubya (Dick Is A Killer)

Eavesdropping On the Prez

I always like these stories of mics being left on catching comments that we normally wouldn't hear. CBS News reports that the reporters eavedropped on Bush discussing eavesdropping thanks to a mic left on.

And more news to make Bush look even better...

Michael Brown, the ex-FEMA chief that stepped down after dropping the ball with Hurricane Katrina, claims he notified officials at the White House the day the levees were breached. This contradicts earlier reports that they were left in the dark, even though technically at that point, most likely nothing could have been done.

Former aide to the vice-prez, Scooter Libby, testified that his superiors authorized him to leak information to the press regarding justification of invading Iraq, which lead to the leak of the identity of CIA agent Valerie Plame. Considering his superiors were unnamed, one can only suppose that this indicates Vice-President Dick had something to do with this whole debacle.

Jack Abramoff, DC lobbyist that ripped off several Native American groups and consequently plead guilty to fraud charges, said of Bush in statements revealed this week:

“The guy saw me in almost a dozen settings, and joked with me about a bunch of things, including details of my kids. Perhaps he has forgotten everything, who knows,” Abramoff wrote in an e-mail to Kim Eisler, national editor for the Washingtonian magazine.

This of course was after Bush denied ever meeting Abramoff, despite reports that photos exist of the two together at events.

Ah, the drama of the DC. I can't wait until Laura leaves George for another woman and Congress is overthrown by midgets that were unlawfully profiled through the PATRIOT Act. Don't tell me it can't happen. Things keep getting crazier.

Don't Got to Applebee's When It's Not Your Birthday

Yesterday my fellow retail service operatives and I went on our semi-daily business lunch. We decided on Applebee's for a reason. You see there is a large, retired pro wrestler in our group that for some reason avoids our lunches. We aren't sure if he is ashamed of his eating habits, hates spending money, or is simply watching his figure. Anyhow, it is an occasion if we convince him to go along, kind of like a sighting of a Sasquatch, except this is a Sasquatch eating. Someone brought up saying it was the wrestler's birthday, because at Applebee's they sing to you and give you free dessert. I was all for this, considering it was nowhere near his birthday.

Upon our arrival at the restaurant, I pulled our clueless, whiteboy waiter aside, explained it was my co-worker's birthday, and asked if he could do something special for him. He told me that they only had two people on the floor, but could arrange something. I assured him that we would sing along or do whatever needed to help the process.

The six of us ate our meal while discussing some ideas for inventions I had and the possibilities of it freeing us all from our slave labor. We imagined an immense office complex with an ornate fountain flanked by Greek goddesses spitting water. As our dreams and our meal drew to a close, I spotted our boy moving in with a giant ice cream sundae.

I wished my fellow slave the happiest of birthdays. I must hand it to him for not busting a gut as he received his dairy treat. We all showered him with more well wishes as our waiter looked on. I requested custard dishes for the rest of us, because the big boy wouldn't be able to devour it all himself. The server complied, and we divvied up portions for each of us. It was pretty good, except for the freezer burnt parts and the few ice chips within.

Then the birthday boy asked us who would pay for the ice cream. It turns out they put it on his bill out of all of our separated checks. I understand it wasn't really his birthday, but dummy server boy had no idea about this, therefore I am insulted by the fact that he one, even charged us for it, and two, put the charge on the birthday boy's bill. It was still a good time had by all, despite that mongoose dung. I am demanding an apology from Applebee's for this though, because if it really was his birthday, this would be an embarrassment.

The Birthday Boy

Grandpa Munster Dies...Finally

Considering he was a grandpa on The Munsters 40 years ago, which I suppose is grandparent age, I always found it amazing that Grandpa Munster made it this long. Al Lewis was 95 and still hosting a weekly radio program. Good for him.

In the MSNBC obit., they state:

Just two years short of his 90th birthday, a ponytailed Lewis ran as the Green Party candidate against incumbent Gov. George Pataki. Lewis campaigned against draconian drug laws and the death penalty, while going to court in a losing battle to have his name appear on the ballot as “Grandpa Al Lewis.”

I only hope I can have that much spunk when I'm 65.

Support Group for Abuse by Nuns

I recently blogged about my boss breaking down to me about his nun abuse experiences after hearing my story. This has continued, with him describing in greater detail his horrific tales and how he is now haunted by them in his sleep. And we are talking about a great, powerful man here, who is crumbling under the weight of these thoughts of penguin women.

As we sat down with the Filipino Mafia and other co-workers to a bagel break, he told us about having to line up with other boys in the hall as a nun decided their fate on the other side of one of those double steel door doorways that are common in grade schools. Apparently someone cut through a neighbor's yard to get to school and didn't close the gate. A dog got loose and was hit by a car. The neighbor brought her issue to the nuns and the authorities, so the boys stood waiting. He spoke of the crack between the two doors and how they noticed the sister approaching. The fear in him created illusions of her striking down upon them with bolts of lightning from her fingertips or the even more realistic fate of hearing the crack of a ruler.

As an aside here, they say when the nun cracks a yardstick, it makes a noise, because the very tip of it breaks the sound barrier. That alone puts fear in me.

Granted, there were no lightning bolts, but she wanted so badly to discipline somebody, so they felt intimidation through her voice and mannerisms.

At this point in the story, another Retail Service Representative from another company who was listening in, joined us and looked worried.

"I know the sound of that yardstick," he told us. "It will forever be etched in my mind."

He then broke down and told us of how he was disciplined by being struck with a ruler by a sister. Three at this gathering now had a common bond. I wonder how far this will go and what other stories will come from the telling of my experience.

In the meantime, I suggested to my boss that he get on a strong sedative to sleep through the demonic nuns that haunt his slumber.

The Pinoys Rule the World

Boy, the members of the Filipino Mafia that I work with take advantage of their power. I ride with them, which I am thankful for, but they pick me up an hour after they say they will on a constant basis. Now I could leave their carpool, but they have connections at the quickie marts to get free gas, so no one has to pay. This is disrespectful to our boss though, and despite his mob ties, he cannot do a thing about them waltzing in whenever they please, because the power of these Pinoys is on the upsurge. I defend the boss as much as I can, but they gang up on me during their smoke breaks and blow second hand smoke in my eyes.

Now I understand that it is stressful when you do not have much food because spearfishing season is over, but to throw one's weight around like this is ridiculous. I have no choice, but to submit though. What can we do as Italian Retail Service Representatives?? Only sit back, assemble more patio furniture, and keep our mouths shut.

I Used to Work In the FertHairlizer Industry or Come and Get Your Hairy Bras and Panties

Before I could have a real job, and before I actually worked in the fertilizer industry with Scotts earlier last year, I worked with FertHairlizer. My mother worked at a copy shop here in South St. Louis back in the early 1990s. Next door was a barber shop run by Bill Black. What was interesting about his place was that he was a C-level celebrity. He had photos on the wall of him on the Tonight Show with Johnny Carson and Jay Leno, The Late Show with David Letterman, and others. Black made and still makes clothing from hair, including bras and underwear, which may get itchy, but they still earned him exposure at Ripley's Believe It or Not museums around the world. He also had this amazing innovation called FertHairlizer, which was a fertilizer for plants that had human hair in it, because of its nitrogen content. When the hair from the shop was swept up, it was swept into trap doors in the floor. In the basement, the hair was gathered in trash cans for use in the clothing, ferthairlizer, and potting soil lines. On a few occasions, I was the one that mixed the sterilized hair with the soil and bagged it. Good times.

Bill Black later closed up shop here and moved down to Texas. I spotted him about a year back on a segment on The Tonight Show where Tom Green searches states for their most interesting person. Unfortunately, he wasn't Texas's, but he did get an honorable mention for his hair vests and bikinis.

Now, according to an article I found from the Austin Chronicle, Black is still hawking his usual hair stuff, but now he's expanding his horizons to include insulation made from hair and nutritional supplements for animals made from liquefied human hair. So far his ideas haven't caught on and it is a shame. He claims they all work great, so why not?! If only he could fuel cars on liquefied hair, then he'd have something to cure America's oil addiction.

photo from the Austin Chronicle

Bill Black has a web site at FertHairlizer.com, but the quality isn't comparable to his wonderful products. Check it out anyway.

MTV Day

No, this does not involve the televison station. As I stated previously, today is my brother Matt's birthday. He would have been 20. Before he was born, I prayed every Sunday at church for a little brother. I'm sure this put pressure on my parents to make babies, which is awful, but true nonetheless. On this day in 1986, my sister and I were waiting at my Grandma's house on The Hill anxiously awaiting the news. When the call came through, we received the news that we now had a baby brother. Even then, I was a bit of a softie, and I admit it, I cried.

Somehow, my sister, Sara, and I were involved in the naming rights. I know Matthew was in the running, so we picked Thomas as a middle name to make his initials M-T-V. Cable television was influencing us at that young of an age. He loved his initials though. It instantly raised his coolness factor. So when his birthday comes around, I designate this day "MTV Day".

I have my brother to thank for many things. He was great at developing my sense of humor. He would make me do impressions for his friends of Andy Kaufman and others. I still hold dearly videos that he and his buddies made back in the day. They were pretty clever for such young kids. After he passed away, I became good friends with a lot of his pals. In fact, one is my best man, Dan, and another is a groomsman, Jimmy.

One of my teenage idols, Jim Morrison, wrote a poem about Brian Jones, former member of The Rolling Stones, who died from "misadventure", entitled "Ode To L.A. While Thinking Of Brian Jones, Deceased". I find a line from it touching and appropriate for my feelings:

You've left your

Nothing

to compete

w/Silence

I hope you went out

Smiling

Like a child

Into the cool remnant

of a dream