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To all those who would wrongfully attack me, my family, my sweetheart or my friends:
I am a nice guy.
I am honest to a fault.
My family is the most important thing to me.
My greatest joy is in eliciting laughter from others.
I will not tolerate bullies.
This nice guy has teeth (and lawyers, and connections, and a temper, and steadfast resolve).
If you mess with the bull, you will indeed get the horns.
I shit you not.
You really know you've made it as a blogger when you receive hate-mail. Yes, I do receive nastygrams from time to time.
Surprisingly, my detractors are not Asian or Mexican as one would expect, but rather EMO.
I received this email the other day, I assume in response to this post.
Let's break this down, shall we?
First, Rick's last name is "Rapier" which I assume is his real name because it is certainly not a word one would use to describe his wit.
What's the next thing you notice? The handwritten font. Isn't it cute? I especially like how all the "i" characters are dotted with what look like diacritic acute accents. This font is very... very... French! Viva la Font! Le Font du Triomphe! Fly away with me! Casbah! Berets! Mimes! And what have you!
(I would make mention about his improper use of apostrophe's but that would just be childish.)
Now, let me ask this. Why do I need to copulate with a goat? How does that help enlighten me to the plight of emo's ... oops, I mean emos. Now I'm not saying no. In fact, I'm intrigued by the idea. I'm just wondering how sex with a farm animal makes me more sensitive. If anyone reading this has ever had relations with a goat, send me a note (no pics please).
Next Rick asks (rhetorically, I think) if I assume emo-boys sit around and cut themselves. I never said such things. I never implied it. I did, however, say that they spend too much time whining about their suburban, middle class existences while humming the Garden State Soundtrack and quoting Napolean Dynomite.
I stand by that judgment. (Gosh)
Ok, the next section really made me mad. He accused me of being a "jock" and a "prep." Dude -- did you see my nerd score? I'm a "geek", man. Label me appropriately. I did NOT sit at the cool lunch table. (Ok, maybe I did. But I was wildly good looking and had a car) Regardless, I will not be labeled a Jock, Prep, Crip, Blood, Shark, Jet, Capulet, Montague, Hatfield, or McCoy.
I will admit, this death by finger-cutting-gas-inserting-match-swallowing sounds painful. It also sounds like a pretty cool David Copperfield act.
Best buy me a new cape.
Who invented the logo/symbol for a Biohazard? I think it's really cool. It... well... it sorta looks Klingon. Which is awesome.
(It would seem that my blog has been commandeered by a 12-year old nerd.)
So, I pulled up behind a white SUV at the McDonald's drive-thru. The lady driver rolls her window down and immediately starts with the "uhhhh" and the "ummm". What is it about women and fast food? They never know what to order until it's their turn. Do they not know what's on the menu? Are they waiting to hear the day's specials? Is she asking if the Filet-O-Fish in season? Is she wondering what a Quarter Pounder weighs? Does she need a soft drink sommelier to help her pair the correct Hi-C flavor with her Big-N-Tasty Value Meal?
Men automatically know what they want when it's their turn to order. I have discovered why. Men keep fast food menus (and locations) in RAM. That is, we can recall this information instantaneously. As soon as I enter a KFC, Popeye's, White Castle, In-And-Out or McDonalds, I know what I'm having. The information is accessed very quickly.
When it comes to fast food, men can perfom many calculations per second, cross referencing past dining experiences and merge this data against realtime restaurant research: "I had a Arby's Beef-N-Cheddar in Phoenix back in 04 which was excellent. But I see a few of those on the rail which could be cold. Better to go with an Arby's French Dip which they will have to make from scratch and is served with gravy on the side that will easily rehydrate any stale bread. For side order, I'd really like Potato Cakes, but the mexican girl working the fry station has been giving me the eye so I might be able to smile at her and get a few extra Curly Fries out of it. Also, my wife is going to order a Santa Fe Salad because she wants to be healthy, thus I will need an EXTRA order of Curly Fries to compensate for all the fries she steals from me."
As a man, I performed all those processes in RAM in under a second. I had my order worked out before my gal got to the first apostrophe on the menu. That's because men store fast food information in RAM. (We also keep car models, sports statistics and sexual positions in RAM -- but that's another post.)
Oh, I'm not saying women are less intelligent than men. They also have and use RAM. They just use it for different data.
Women keep anniversaries in RAM. They keep baby names in RAM. They keep celebrity gossip in RAM.
Fast food menus are not stored this way with women. When she reads the menu, it's as if it's the first time she's ever encountered it. She needs to read the entire menu all the way through (twice) before ordering. And she can only do this when it's her turn to order. The time she spends waiting on line is better spent thinking about other things (like anniversaries, baby names and celebrity gossip).
Once she finally orders her food, this information is completely purged from her memory. I'm sure you've noticed this phenomenon. In fact, when she digs through the crisp, recyclable paper bag searching for her snack, you might even hear her ask, "What did I order?" Naturally, you can recite the precise details of her lunch back to her immediately and verbatim.
To which she'll reply: "That's not what I ordered."
(Sigh)
I'm attempting to clean things up around here and maybe become a bit more active (don't hold me to it). I have flushed my blogroll.
Yep. Flushed. Don't feel insulted that I'm no longer linking to you. I *want* to link to you. It's just that a good amount of my links were dead. If you're not dead, shoot me an email and I'll re-add you to my site.
I've got a couple of posts coming. In the meanwhile, here's some good reading.
So, add me to your reader. I recommend Google Reader.
We all know that I don't use this blog to pontificiate politically. Personally, I find politics very interesting and political blogs very boring.
However, I get annoyed when pundits try to create political controversy where none really exists. The other day, Rosie O'Donnell used some of her science background to describe how the 9/11 attack must have been an inside job:
"Miraculously, the first time in history steel was melted by fire. It is physically impossible."
Um... how do you think they make steel?
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