Oklahoma law enforcement officer David Dewitt is on the wrong side of the law after an alleged sex toy store fight.
The Pottawatomie County sheriff’s commander was charged with assault and battery after an alleged incident in Oklahoma City at Christie’s Toy Box, according to Fox25.
Dewitt allegedly entered the store with a woman and repeatedly argued with her when she wanted to purchase something…..for possibly the funniest reason imaginable.
The issue was the main sextoy in question the woman wanted was “bigger than him.”
That led to Dewitt allegedly raising his hands in threatening fashion, and a clerk intervened. The Oklahoma LEO responded by stating, “Fuck you, I’m a cop.”
Eventually, the situation cooled down before eventually going off the rails when the clerk asked Dewitt if he needed batteries for the sex toy, according to the same report.
Dewitt allegedly asked the clerk, “What the f**k you say to me, fat boy?” He then allegedly attacked the clerk and repeatedly struck him in the face and ribs.
He was eventually arrested but not before telling the clerk, “Call the f*cking cops. I’m an officer of the law. You don’t f*cking assault me. I can have you arrested, jailed to where you never get out.”
Yes, threatening a guy with life in prison after allegedly beating the hell out of him over a sex toy. Very rational, normal and calm.
The president of the National Women’s Law Center said on Tuesday during congressional testimony that women should “learn to lose gracefully” to transsexual competitors.
Fatima Goss Graves spoke during the hearing on “The Importance of Protecting Female Athletics and Title IX” held by the House Oversight Committee’s Subcommittee on Health Care and Financial Services. “Trans students participate in sports for the same reasons as [other] kids,” Graves claimed.
“Because it is fun, because it creates belonging, community, because it teaches so much about persistence, leadership and discipline, and last, they learn to lose gracefully and often, win with dignity,” Graves continued.
I get the feeling that the ladies are getting the short end of the stick on this one from everyone.
National Women's Law Center President Fatima Goss Graves, the liberal witness at the Title IX hearing, says that female athletes should "learn to lose gracefully" to biological men. pic.twitter.com/2YPqQDk0cQ
Upon checking into the hospital on Nov. 25, a CT scan revealed that the man was suffering from a rare, potentially life-threatening neurological condition that was caused by the pair of chopsticks that had allegedly gone up his nose and into his brain.
The Post reported that while the man was initially surprised at how chopsticks ended up inside his skull, he soon remembered a fight he was involved in while out drinking five months prior.
I heard it back in September when the first Christmas decorations came out. One of my relatives, Meathead, plays it constantly. It just becomes noise in the background. He hates God which is confounding.
I wish we could keep it to a celebration instead of an Ironman Triathlon.
Imagine a factory that can make humanoid robots that can walk, run, and work like us. Sounds like a sci-fi movie, right? Well, it’s not. It’s RoboFab, and it’s opening soon here in the U.S.
Concerns over humanoid robots
Some people are really nervous about these humanoid robots, and for good reason. There is a lot to take into account, including ethical issues and potential safety risks.
Many individuals may feel uncomfortable or deceived by humanoid robots that mimic human emotions and intelligence. Others might be worried about them taking their jobs.
Consequently, we should approach the use of humanoid robots with caution, acknowledging their capacities while being aware of their limitations.
Terminator, Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D., 2001 A Space Odyssey, The Matrix and all of the rest of them, the AI Robots kill the humans. AI always goes bad and we are toast.
Robot grabs then brutally slaughters worker, allegedly mistaking him for a box of paprika
An industrial robot brutally slaughtered a South Korean robotics technician Tuesday, allegedly mistaking him for just another container of organic material in need of stacking.
The victim, a man in his 40s, was attempting to diagnose an issue with a pick-and-place robot’s sensor at the Donggoseong Export Agricultural Complex in the southern county of Goseong, as there was an equipment test planned for later in the week, reported the Register.
The paprika-sorting robot, reportedly created and installed by the victim’s employer, spotted the man with its sensor, figured him for a box of vegetables, then seized him using its arms and tongs. After grabbing the technician, the robot apparently smashed him against a conveyor belt.
According to the Korean-language Yonhap News Agency, the victim’s face and chest were crushed. He was taken to a hospital, where he later died.
It’s not that I don’t like others, just not all the time. Actually, I’d rather be alone most of the time. I don’t even miss others or think about missing them. Most of the time, they let me down or make the time spent together difficult. My appetite for that is over.
People drain me and consistently let me down. I’m sure I let them down when they think I should act like an extrovert, but then I don’t force myself on others.
Small talk is the most draining thing during the day. I know as soon as I get into it that it’s going to be a dreadful and useless conversation. Society expects you to go through this ritual, but that doesn’t make it meaningful or any less painful.
Give me meaningful and deep discussions and you have my attention. Otherwise, I’m happiest writing in my diary and reading.
Not caring what others think about you is a blessed relief. It’s the same when they don’t think of you also, like the remote parts of your family that are annoying.
The best man at my wedding George has the best sphincter control of anybody I’ve known. He drove across the United Stated (horizontally) and didn’t unload the whole way. He also made me paranoid about having to drop a deuce on a public toilet.
I’m a germaphobe to begin with. I don’t trust a hotel room, knowing what I’ve done in them and listening to other peoples stories also. When George was a motel manager, he’d wait until the maid cleaned the rooms and put a clean paper ribbon over the toilet seat. He took the master key and slid off the ribbon, took a shit and then put it back on.
So I’m in the gym today. It’s bad enough already as you are trying to work out and I live in a college town. That means the girls come in to work out in the fuck me shorts all decked out in nips and lips, prancing about. They show off the goods and preen in front of the mirror wearing a ponytail holder on their wrist. God forbid if one of the guys looks, then the whole gym creep thing comes out. I won’t stare because that is what they want. One girl came by this day in the see through lime green sherbet outfit 2 sizes too small and I had to do a double take to see if she was black or white. She’d spent so much time on the tanning bed she could have been either, but that makes her white. Please.
The opposite is also true. There are some that need to be at the gym because they need to lose weight and get in shape. I applaud them for doing something about it, but I am trying not to look at them either. It’s because they are trying to wear the same thing the hot girls wear and it’s not working for covering that much mass. I looked up and almost had my face in a cottage cheese barrel.
It used to be that the gym was just guys in sweat clothes would be there. Then, Jane Fonda let in all the girls and taught them take more and more off. At first,the A/C would make it nippy, but now they wearing body paint skin suits that don’t cover a thing. You know by looking whether you are ordering a #3 roast beef combo or a peach fuzz smoothy without trying. They then proceed to push their cookie up in the air like they were doing upside down doggie and we have to act like we don’t notice. They entice you to look and then get mad if you do.
Anyway, why I wrote this.
I was doing legs today. I work out in the afternoon when the traffic is light so you don’t have to wait for a machine you want to use. I do all my sports page reading business first thing in the morning so it never crossed my mind that I’d have to take a dump. It never happens past mid-morning. I felt a rumbling in my stomach and thought it couldn’t be. I was hoping for a fart and it would pass.
So I’m listening to music during hamstring curls thinking that I could move around some air and the crisis would pass. Wouldn’t you know that the song that played was Should I stay or should I go by the Clash.
I’m in a complete dilemma now as I’d just gotten there and didn’t want to leave, but the feeling wouldn’t go away. I let it go one too many leg curls until I knew I was in trouble.
Having to go on a public toilet is as much a torture thought for me as dropping the soap in the shower in jail. I didn’t have time to be able leave to find the most expensive store nearby as they usually have the cleanest bathrooms according to George.
I realized it was going to happen and I couldn’t stop it. The train was leaving the station. I grabbed the disinfecting wipes for the gym equipment and made my way to the locker room. I’m in there 4 times a week and every time I see legs in the stall with some guy laying rope. I think how disgusting that is using a public can. A bunch of sweaty MF all shitting on the same toilet. I don’t know how girls do it.
I usually go for the cripple stool as is it is less used than the regular stall. It was out of order, so I have to go on one that has been destroyed since midnight as this is a 24 hour gym.
Well, I scrubbed down the seat, then papered it like the second coming of the Mummy and all hell broke loose. You’d think I’d taken the colonoscopy medicine.
I don’t even like going on a can that others use at home and have my own bathroom I call home base. It has a bidet built in so that if I don’t get a clean break, I can get the old Japanese wash and blow dry from my seat.
My fear at the gym was that I’d have to use the whisper thin paper that doubles as a cheese grader that this was going to happen.
I didn’t even run out of toilet paper during Covid because I use the bidet seat so my bung hole has gone back to virginity. TP wiping is something I don’t do anymore.
There was someone in the bathrooms while this was going on, but I didn’t care as your rarely see the same people. It turned out to be Fred the maintenance man. Fred is there every time I’m at the gym. He is kind of like a rain man about cleaning and walked in as soon as I walked out. It was a WWIII destruction zone and I’m going to see Fred again the next time I’m there. I’ll bet he wishes he wasn’t there.
It was a terrible experience, having to open the Bombay doors somewhere other than on home base. I came home and showered, but felt violated that I had to sacrifice my standards because my stomach wouldn’t give me fair warning before I left.
All though I am the same person, I’ve run low on patience in life. I’ve tried to be nice, but this is how it is anymore. I’m a very loyal person, until you cross the line. Once I sense you aren’t loyal, all bets are off.
Like some of my other stories, there is sex, cougars and booze in case you don’t want to read about it.
About the middle of my career, I worked for a disk drive reseller, CORE International. The owner claimed they were a manufacturer, but Control Data made the drives. He lied a lot. See the artificial reef and the Time Tunnel to find out more about CORE.
We went to all of the trade shows, and in the 80’s, Comdex (Computer Dealer Expo) was king. It was in Atlanta and Vegas, but for me it was time for me to escape South Florida and explore the industry. Since I was in charge of the marketing department, it included the trade shows for CORE.
I went prior to the show and set up the booth for a week of displaying our wares to the public, going to the parties and putting up with the wieners and asswipes I worked with.
I always arrived first to set up the booth, then brought out someone from engineering or tech support to set up all the computers. There were a lot of things that have to come together before the show starts.
When I say weenies, most of the engineers couldn’t get a date if it was paid for. For this Vegas trip though, Bob the tech was married to his high school sweetheart. He was well settled down in life while I was still chasing ass. He was a good mid west salt of the earth guy, pretty much the opposite of me when it came to the opposite sex.
It was a time of life that I was at the top of my dating game. Because it was still my party days, decisions on my moral choices were more relaxed than now.
BOOTH SET UP, BRIBERY AND THE MAFIA
During set up, you had to work with the show contractors who supplied mechanical, electrical and moving your booth in and out. If you know the history of Las Vegas, it was built and probably still is run by the mafia. That means you didn’t do anything without them or they would fuck up your booth at night to teach you a lesson. I’ve seen them drive a fork lift right through a crate that held a vendor’s booth worth thousands, destroying it “by accident”. This was after a vendor yelled at them for not getting their booth delivered on time.
You could always get better service with a little green under the table. You would say you were from the Franklin company ($100 bill exchanged hands) and got in line ahead of others when I needed service. Everything ran through the mafia though and that is how it got done.
Sometimes, you had to wait your turn for service. Big companies paid bigger bribes and my company was small potatoes. The CORE owner was cheap. That meant going through their hoops to order what they had left in stock, then waiting for the supplies and manpower to get your job done. It cost me days sometimes in set up time. If he’d had let me play by the mob’s rules, I could have saved thousands on travel, hotel and food, but that’s another story.
I got accused of leaving earlier each time by one of the software engineers who my art director nicknamed needle dick. Since he was a nerd, I didn’t respect much of what he said so I went when it was right. Needle dick couldn’t scare up any gash if his life depended on it. He got adopted by a cougar at work 20 years his senior (and she had lost what little SMV she had – look that up). She got nicknamed Canyon Cooter. This difference in age was compounded by him being smart, close to the autism scale and she was one of the dumbest females I’d ever met. It made for one the biggest mismatches you’d ever see. More about them later, but suffice it to say she was going to teach him how to get a date because in his late 20’s he couldn’t get one, but wound jumping his bones.
YOU BITCH
Back to the story. I was setting up with Bob and needed some extra electrical at the booth. I didn’t have money left to bribe them so I was about 5 deep waiting in line. I watched the forms administrator girl at the desk give everyone an attitude. They knew everyone had to go through them and sort of lorded it over the exhibitors as they were the only game in town. Plus, I’m sure they could have sent Guido or Carlo to fuck up our booth if we didn’t play nice. So, I waited in line.
I looked at her name badge and it said Mary. She was the one at the counter giving the guy in front of me a really hard time. At one point, he looked back at me it was so bad that I held my hands up and shrugged. I sort of thought it might be her time of the month, or she didn’t sleep well or hated her job. It pissed me off and I felt bad for the guy taking such a beating. He was a beta male who didn’t do anything as Mary snapped at him while I watched.
I was tired from days of set up by then and knew I was going to have to deal with another time delay and an attitude when I walked up for my turn to order. Age wise, I’m well practiced at the art of pick up and had an Alpha male game going when talking to girls. I’d learned to dish it out with the best of them.
For this reason, I decided I wasn’t going to take the shit she gave the guy before me. I walked up and my opening line to Mary was, “Are you this big of a bitch to everyone?” Needless to say, it caught her off guard. She changed her attitude and minded her manners. We chatted and I caught a sly smile from her as I went back to my booth. I brushed it off and thought little of it.
I tried to explain this alpha male/female transaction to one of my in-laws, who I’ve nicknamed flounder. He reminds me of Kent Dorfman from Animal House, fat, drunk and stupid is no way to go through life son.
Sometimes, girls like the man who takes control and put them in their place. Flounder never understood as he only had one girlfriend in life. Mary got it though.
This time of life found me dating a girlfriend back home so I wasn’t looking for ass, but Mary was hot-ish in her own way. I kind of liked that she was feisty unlike my girlfriend who was a milk toast and was a nag right before this trip. In my head, I’d kind of broken up with her and did shortly thereafter. That’s another story
We went back to working on set up and I told Bob I’d called her a bitch. It meant that it could be a while before we got any service, so we did what we could until the help arrived. The electricians came way early so we were both surprised. (Electricians meaning they got paid $100 an hour to bring you extension cords, lay them out and plug them in, a total racket but…Mafia). Mary bumped me to the top of the list for calling her a bitch.
The day rolled on, so we finished work and were ready to call it by going to dinner and crashing at the hotel. I wasn’t a big gambler and knew we had a lot to do tomorrow so we headed out past the contractor tables kind of thinking about tomorrow.
Because the owner of the company was the biggest tightwad I’d ever met in a millionaire, I had to share a hotel room with Bob. I’d get my own room only if there was an odd count of people and I’d take the single because I was trade show manager. I also didn’t want to share a room with any of the tech wieners ever.
As we passed by, Mary was still sitting there and I wasn’t looking my best. I’d been sweating while busting ass all day in jeans and a T-shirt. They had the doors to the convention hall open as they hauled in equipment all day long. It’s hot in Vegas so I was scruffy looking in the Han Solo sort of way. Mary on the other hand had to dress appropriately as that was her job, attitude and all.
While walking by, I threw out a trial balloon to attitudy-Judy and said, Bob and I are going to dinner, I’ll buy you one if you want to come. I guessed that I’d get a laugh and figured she heard it at every show she worked. So I was preparing for the brush off when she said why not……game on.
I was finally making it in life and could afford better clothes, so I cleaned up and put on my Don Johnson Miami Vice outfit (t-shirt and white jacket with nice slacks and loafers, just like on TV). Bob was in his causal married look and wasn’t sure what to expect now that I’d invited a stray to dinner. He also knew we were sharing a room and any copulation calisthenics would have been awkward.
THE TRANSFORMATION
When I called her a bitch, I was speaking to a hair up in the bun, glasses wearing school marm girl. I could tell though that she had a tight body and had potential. Needless to say, Mary had gone home and dolled up into a strapless dress that complimented her good looks. The dark hair came down and the glasses were gone and she went from librarian to a keeper. Even Bob was shocked at the transformation. She was both hot and hopefully hot to trot.
It’s hard to believe knowing the person that I am now was able to be that entertaining then, but I chatted her up over cocktails and a bottle of wine. Bob is enjoying an upgraded dinner and we both thought that would be it. It turned out that Mary was a very smart girl. We had an intellectually stimulating conversation both ways. I learned a lot about the machinations of how things got done as well as life in Vegas. She had a brain to go with the rest of the package. Maybe that is why she gave others a hard time.
I was the only one at CORE authorized to people out to dinner above the expense rate other than the el cheapo boss, but only if I was taking out important people or reporters. Bob didn’t say anything because he got a way more than the expense approved dinner, and I invited what was now a hottie to dinner. I’m sure I filed that expense report to the head accountant Tony (sounds Mafia also) that might have not been exactly accurate.
At the end of dinner, Bob excused himself to go to the bathroom before leaving and I figured what the hell. The odds were against anything else really happening between Mary and I, and I really didn’t care. We were on our way to being drunk and I’ll never see her again, plus I have to deal with sharing a room with Bob. I made the first base move anyway. The next thing I knew, Bob came out of the bathroom to see Mary and me tongue deep in the middle of the restaurant.
I now have the dilemma of the where to go logistics. I’m sure Bob’s wife didn’t want to hear about Mary and me slobbering on each other all night long and I’ve got the stingy accountants hanging over my head about spending money for extra rooms in Vegas.
I knew that once everyone came into town in a couple of days, that I’d be moving into the single room. I’d pre-arraigned to have the prerequisite odd count of people enabling me to have the single, but expense policies required us to save the penny pinching company owner money prior to that.
My judgement is now sufficiently impaired by alcohol and my hormones were raging by, so I said fuck it. Next thing I knew, I had Mary in tow and stood in line at the hotel lobby and charged a single room to the company credit card. President Hal and VP Robert A were going to shit when they saw my expense report already as I’m down a dinner way over the per diem by 3 or 4 times. I now add a room that I wasn’t supposed to be charged for 2 more days. Those two dicked around the employees so I wasn’t motivated to help them in any way. I was thinking with the little head by then, so the night progressed and we said goodbye to Bob.
I wonder what Mary was thinking. Her day started with a boring job of grilling show people about filling out the forms for electricity. She’s now out to dinner with a charming stranger and about to go back to a hotel room with someone she’s known for a couple of hours who called her a bitch.
In my head, I’m playing We’ve Got Tonight By Bob Seger. It was the part that goes:
I know it’s late I know you’re weary I know your plans don’t include me Still here we are Both of us lonely Longing for shelter from all that we see Why should we worry? No one will care girl Look at the stars so far away We’ve got tonight Who needs tomorrow? We’ve got tonight babe Why don’t you stay?
As I mentioned, I’d been around the dating block by now and knew how to game girls. I’d been pulling ass for a long time and it wasn’t like I was trying to lose my virginity. We checked into the hotel and had another heavy make out session when Mary excused herself to go to the bathroom.
The night is ticking away, I’m drunk and realize I have another long day tomorrow. I knew Mary had to show up at the contractors desk early. I decided right then that I wasn’t going to try hard because if was going to happen, fine…if not, also fine.
While she’s in the bathroom, I’m thinking of how I’m going to say goodbye and I had a nice time after getting told no, then catching some shut eye. I’d had about as much fun as I figured I was going to have and didn’t have a lot of patience to wait all night for nothing. I’d done enough of that growing up and rejection was going to be as good as success. The outcomes were equal to me.
Just about that time, Mary comes out of the bathroom wearing only a towel. As I started back to kissing her, it fell down and she said, we’ve got to get you out of these clothes.
One thing led to another and we did what grownups do in the prime of your life, for a long time, all over the hotel room. She enjoyed it immensely, which I found out later. I did my best John Holmes impression to make it worth her while. She said she visited the big O hall of fame multiple times. It was our first night so we hadn’t been together long enough for her to lie about it yet. I had put so much effort into it that night to make her happy that I’d passed out and she went home.
When I woke up the next morning, on the mirror I found a post it note to call for round 2 as she wanted more. Comdex hadn’t even started and my trip has already been eventful.
I glided by the contractor table the next morning and the attitude was much nicer. It turns out that all she needed was a good time and to get laid. It was on for us now.
I didn’t say anything to Bob. He’d seen me sucking face and I didn’t come home last night.
I enjoyed the week with Mary. She didn’t have to work during the show, unlike the 12 hour days on my feet. She was a good sport about showing up to see me at the end of the day. It was nice to share time together and got me the hell away from the CORE douchebags. One of the days when I was coming back from the show, I met her in the lobby and we immediately dumped the rest and headed up to my room. I’d walked back to the hotel with Bill Quinn, a serious stiff who knew I was his only key to after show entertainment. He was lost without me getting him or the others into the show parties. He kept asking what happened as he saw me meet and leave with a girl in the elevator. He wouldn’t see me again until the next morning. He told me he wanted details, but I gave up nothing.
TECH WEENIES TRYING TO ACT HIP
I refused to hang with most of the CORE people I had to work with as they were too lame to be around. Case in point, one of the nights there, I had to invite them to a computer magazine party, because the owner Hal was there. I picked the one that was the shortest to end my pain with them. I was going to the real party after that. I must have had that night off from Mary. Duty calls.
The DJ played the song Shout (Otis Day and The Nights for Animal House Fans). These losers called it the CORE song and went to the dance floor to look like fools. This included needle dick, canyon cooter and Sondra Arken (who got nicknamed Barkin as she was an ugly feminist with an ugly attitude who refused to shave her legs and pits). Also acting the fool were some people I’d come over to CORE with when General Micro Computer went chapter 11 like Trish Brainard, Holly H., Susan (Suzy Q, the JAP with the huge ta ta’s). They were such idiots that everyone from GMC except me got fired shortly after this for being incompetent. I pretended to go up with them as we left for the dance floor, but diverted to the men’s room to hide as I refused to be seen with them. I don’t think it was lost on them.
Here’s the deal. I was the president of my fraternity when Animal House came out. We’d already done everything in the movie other than kill a horse. We’d had a real toga party when listening to Shout. The CORE pussies were nursing a light beer. When I was in college, we were drinking grain alcohol punch dressed in sheets. There is a difference. They were embarrassing as they were trying to act hip, but at best pulled off a broken hip. There were a lot of losers in the computer industry and some of them worked with me.
I dumped them after that and went either to see Mary or to the real after party. They never knew.
THE GEEKS LOSE THEIR VIRGINITY
So I’m being very discrete about my encounter with Mary. Even when seen, no one knew what I was really doing. Bob the tech didn’t tell everyone there about the night prior to the show…….As opposed to this next part.
In the background, Canyon Cooter has made her move on needle dick who’s never seen a boob in his life, much less hold one. They now show up to the booth in matching outfits. She was getting divorced was old enough to be his mom. They dressed like sherbet Ice cream in their matching lime green and orange suits. When you fuck around at work, at least don’t advertise it by making a fool of yourselves. He never had a chance as she pretty much adopted him. They looked like a kid and his mom in a gag worthy moment. It was the only pussy he would ever had in life at and that statement is pretty sad. He wanted her to show him how to talk to a girl at work he couldn’t get a date with, and the next thing you know they are bumping uglies.
When you score your first touchdown, act like you’ve been there. He was a trained puppy on a leash from then on following her around. They were saying nothing was happening, but were so bad at hiding it we couldn’t avoid the obvious. It was as bad as having to hear about your parents having sex, freaking disgusting for all of us.
I on the other hand am having a grand time with a hot girl and giving her the ride of her life while telling no one. Here’s how I know. When I left Vegas after the show was over, she looked me up in Florida to try and find me for more (no internet back then so it was a big effort). It turns out that I am a namesake and she wound up calling my parents in another town, also in Florida. I thought it was a nice gesture and Mom had to know what was going on. She wasn’t born yesterday.
All good things come to an end and it was time to leave Vegas and go home. I have no need to go back to that town other than for computer shows so I knew it this was ever only going to be a week. I hate Vegas despite the time with Mary. I never promised anything to her other than when I was there. I never led her on. It was what it was. She had the next show rolling into town the following week (the Car Show). It just didn’t have a future written on it.
I recall our last moment together. She finished on top and I was staring at her right boob. I thought to myself, I need to remember this moment for when I was in a dry spell.
Life goes on. Needle dick wound up marrying canyon cooter. Ben Greene told us all that the bill would come due when she turned 80. He’s probably changing diapers now. I saw the disappointment on his father’s face at the wedding. He married his mother, a washed up flabby old lady. At least they didn’t reproduce. The world is better for it.
Bob left CORE and went to Novell, then the Networking leader. Hal sold the company to Sony after lying about the contract he had with IBM. Robert came out of the closet and was queer as a 3 dollar bill, but he was a prick to everyone anyway. I filed the expense report and I think I went over by so much that El Capo, Tony wouldn’t approve all of it. I made it all back on the next expense report. CORE went out of their way to screw over the employees. The per deim wasn’t enough for one meal, let alone 3 per day in Vegas. I never tried to come out ahead, but they wound up paying for everything on the next trip. We ended up even.
I still had to work with the other wieners who rarely got any girl action. Despite the stories that got told about my escapades, I would never admit it because I didn’t need to spike the ball. I never told them this story either, until now. Bob told them enough when we got back that I got the stink eye from the engineering and tech support departments. Most of them were still 0 for life in girls when I left.
Mary and I never spoke again. By the time I found out from Mom that she’d called, months had already passed. I hope she remembers it fondly. I guess I’m the one that got away. I would have picked her over my milk toast girlfriend. She was better in every way.
Life moved on, but times like this are burned into my memory bank. A version of this story would happen to me again at future computer shows, more than once and different countries.
I have fun memories of that week, it’s just that we lived on opposite sides of the country and what happened in Vegas like most times, stayed there.
My mom told me I had to stick with my family and put up with gatherings because they are blood. She was right on most things in life, but not this one.
I look at them like I look at most people. If we were friends or wanted to see each other, we’d get together. Now, it’s just weddings and funerals, and I avoid those if possible. I missed the last one that made me the patriarch of both sides of the family now. That’s not a burden I relish or will give any attention too.
Besides avoiding both sides of my family whenever possible, my wife’s family doesn’t live in my country, so I have it easy there. They sit around and trash the US to feel morally superior so I don’t want to be a part of that.
Best of all, I stopped drinking a while back. Most of them drink a lot when they are together, so I don’t get invited to almost everything. I think I make them feel uncomfortable. They are happier to be around people who drink a lot without feeling guilty. I don’t get invited and it’s one of life’s blessings.
I treat others like they treat me. Fortunately, most of them don’t want to talk and I keep my head as low as possible so I don’t get in their line of fire.
Still, leaving is always my favorite part of getting together, family or otherwise.
The world and the media and especially Social Media is trying to tell you how to live, what to say, what is politically correct and so forth. It’s so much shit that you don’t know which way to turn.
I’m finding that staying to myself makes it easier. I don’t have to fit into the world’s definitions of what I should be doing instead of what I want to do. It used to be a lot easier before the Karen’s and Chad’s tried to build their power base by judging others. I got fed up enough of that crap with the high school childish games we suffered through.
I decided to grow up and make my own rules. It’s because I’m an introvert and didn’t do stuff like get the Covid Jab. I’m not as accepted for what I believe, but like Groucho Marx said, I’d never belong to a club that would have me as a member. It’s made my life a lot easier.
This is the way they want you to behave on social media now. I had to eliminate that to not drive myself nuts. I got the added benefit of not having to find out what others did to try and make themselves feel better when they got likes. My favorite benefit was re-losing people I was able to move on earlier in life. They found me on social media, but I already removed them once for a reason.
The way I looked at it, if I wanted to stay connected (or we wanted to together) we would have. Not for likes. I guess I just don’t care enough what they did after we parted ways all those years ago. I got to lose family that made life difficult also.
I get some love to reconnect and rehash things, but I already did that in my private journal. If it was that good, I wouldn’t need social media to see what they ate or drank while doing stuff I didn’t care about.
This version of non English is how social media is. Almost non-sequitur.
With all the bullshit with the lying about the politicians and covering up by the media, if I get too involved with it, this happens to me
I can always revert to my introverted life and spend time alone with my thoughts and pets. That way people aren’t ruining my life as much.
“Roll down the window.” Cars have had automatic windows for ages, making the manual rolling down of windows a thing of the past. I still say this, though, in my 1964 Mustang.
“Check the answering machine.” Voicemail on cellphones has obliterated the need for a physical answering machine. I think it’s super interesting Apple’s iOS 17 lets you listen while someone leaves a voicemail so you can decide to pick up. New? Hardly.
“Dial 411.” My mother designed the 411 directory system for Bell Labs. Now, just look someone up online and you have their digits.
“Beep me.” Pagers were all the rage once upon a time. Today, they’re used almost exclusively in healthcare or other specific industries.
“I’ll tape it.” You no longer “tape” shows with DVR and streaming services. You just hit “Record” on your device or catch it later on demand.
“Rewind” or “Fast-forward.” These phrases made perfect sense for cassettes and VHS tapes, and, yes, we still use them metaphorically, but you’re not actually winding anything.
“I need to find a payphone.” My dad used to make me carry a quarter just in case I needed to make a call. With a cellphone in nearly everyone’s pocket, payphones have become an urban relic.
“Get the film developed” or “Don’t waste the film.” Oh, the good old days of waiting to see a picture you looked horrible in. Digital cameras and smartphones have done away with this.
“Look it up in the White (or Yellow) Pages.” Online directories have replaced those hefty books.
“I’ll fax it to you.” Fax machines are just about dead. Warren Buffett once told me that’s the only way he’ll do contracts. Why? No one can hack a fax machine, unlike email.
I was listening to Steely Dan play My Old School, one of my theme songs. Click on it, it’s a great song.
I realized I went to school to grow up in life, not really to learn. I went to classes and did did stuff, but it was just a step in life I had to take first. My real education was when I got out and started in life. School was just learning how to learn, mostly what not to do. Life is a big picture that I saw. I knew I had to get through this time and had a need to have my success being in life, not following the crowd in my teens. I watched the cliques and instinctively knew I didn’t want to be held hostage by them. Even then, I just knew I was going to be a bigger success and do much more than any of them. Other than a few sports stars and a doctor here and there, it came true. It’s not really important to me as I expected it. It’s because I didn’t pin my identity to that time of my life.
Most of all, I didn’t get stuck in my hometown and got away from those who stayed in the mud pit of mediocrity.
I know some people never leave college and re-live school every Friday night or Saturday during football season, but I am fortunate to have Mauerbauertraurigheit. I never wanted to be a part of what they were. Maybe it was just the introvert in me coming out, but I moved on and the memories weren’t strong enough to make me long for that, ever.
I went to school with some people from kindergarten through the end of college, yet I never think of them as friends. Just going to the same school isn’t the basis for a relationship. I never wanted to be in their clubs or fraternity’s, even when I had the chance. They weren’t the type of people I wanted to be a part of. At a college party one time I told Brad Hurd, who I knew since kindergarten that my best life decision until then was not pledging his fraternity. It was just the same elementary, middle school and high school people that I instinctively knew weren’t going to be significant, or my friends.
I also remember college graduation. I thought to myself, I may never step foot back on this campus and 43 years later, I never have. I’d had enough of college life and wanted to grow up and experience new and different things. People I knew still get together and pretend they are still there, but I can’t bring myself to do it. It was a chapter in my life that has closed. Life expanded so much for me after I got out that I feel no connection with the people anymore.
I still have friends from that time, but it had nothing to do with school. We are friends because of our relationship, mutual interests and experiences in life.
So, like the song, I’m never going back to my old school. I’ve passed up the 10th, 20th, 25th, 30th and 40th high school reunions so far, and have no plans to ever do it again.
I always thought that my life was going to happen after I left school, and it did. Those I went to school with act like they never left. Their pinnacle in life was either high school or college. They are like Al Bundy, high school football star, but loser in life. They relive the past at a time we were juveniles. I saw much more than that. Being a part of it wasn’t something I ever wanted to do.
On LinkedIn, I don’t even list my university. Instead I use Faber College, Knowledge is good.
Occasionally, I hear about someone from that time. Almost to a person, they didn’t amount to not much past that time of life. I hope they enjoyed their moment in the limelight, but it’s too bad that it came so early in life. When I see the pictures, they faded into old looking people who fell out of shape or didn’t realize their dreams. It’s sad. I wish they could have seen the big picture that what seems important to teenagers is not.
When I think about why, it was the people that I wanted away from, not the school. I continue to have highlights in life, rather than re-live an immature time of my life.
I’m never going back, to my old…..school, because I grew up to so much more.
This post has sex and booze in it, read it later in the post.
Since I graduated with both Accounting and Marketing degree’s, I tried to find a job in one of those fields. I finished college before they had the internet, so you couldn’t look up jobs on LinkedIn or on online. We did actual networking back then.
I had friends who got me interviews where they worked, and I accepted a job in the finance trainee program at Burdines Department Stores. Here is the building I worked at in downtown Miami. Count 4 floors up and that would be me.
The program was 4 six month shifts in different departments (where they needed a slave to hump some work it seemed).
I have no idea why or what I was doing in finance. I really majored in Animal House activities and going to the Beach instead of class. I knew debit was on the left, but even I wouldn’t have trusted me at the time with balancing a checkbook.
Anyway…..
My 2nd rotation in the Statistical department was working on the Departmental Operating Statement (DOS). It was a financial statement that reported on the profit and loss of every department in every store, so 256 departments x 26 stores x 18 expense categories. It was as dreary as that sentence sounds
While not a published financial statement, it was how the department managers in each store got rated. That is far too much responsibility for someone who drank and got high often enough to fail any drug test, at work.
The DOS was a manual masturbation exercise that had to balance to the expenses for the year and show the profitability (or loss) of each department and store. This will be key in the story that follows.
While working on this, we were automating it to an IBM System 34 (now the System P), again pre-PC days. It even had 8 inch floppy diskettes for storage.
Burdines was owned by Federated Department Stores, who also owned Bloomingdales, Filene’s, Foley’s, A & S, and a number of other stores. This part is important. Never once was the DOS turned in on time by Burdines to Federated. The other divisions were on time and it was a sore spot for the finance guys.
Statistical made sure the DOS balanced to the penny manually. It also meant it would never be on time. During this period, I found that I had an affinity for computers. I was one of the few that understood how they worked and mainly focused on that. When you can run something others are afraid of, and it is vital to getting the job done, it’s like playing cards with a stacked deck. I got that concept right away. The computer would crank out a report in about 30 minutes in those days which would have taken weeks to do manually.
We worked days and nights to get it finished. While the computer was calculating, we were writing programs (in RPG II). We also fucked off and messed with the other employees desk’s who were a pain (Art Goldstein, still in Expense Control). We were putting cigarette ashes under his desk pad, all kinds of shit in his desk and unrolling his calculator (no PC’s) and printing a lot of gibberish on it, then rolling the tape back up for him to find days later. He’d have to redo the tabulation as you had to attach a tape to your work. It cost him hours at work. No one said a thing the next day when he lost it. We just shrugged. Everyone knew it was us that worked late. We also ordered in pizza and beers and left drunk many nights. There was worse stuff we did with the pizza’s, but that’s another story.
I thought accountants were stiffs, but these guys could put a way scotch until they were pickled. It was like working with John Hamm, only at night.
Since these were the Madmen days when you could drink at work, we got beers and take out food from the Cuban restaurants since it was in downtown Miami. You could also fuck around at work without the #metoo bullshit that has ruined a lot of good office sex.
Needless to say, we got it finished, but not on time to Federated during my trainee rotation. I wasn’t a full employee yet, so I didn’t care. I had fun messing around and seeing how things worked. They balanced it as it was done at the same time manually, so it had to tie out. That little detail cost weeks of work to be that exact. I learned everything I could about the computer and started to see it as my ticket to life.
NOW, MY FIRST JOB
I was moved on to the Credit department for my 3rd rotation, where I thought I was going to die from boredom until they got my ass out of there early. I was questioning my career decision at this point. The most I learned there was about mopering (you’re going to have to ask a NY cop what this is).
Since I’d made the System 34 sing and dance, they promoted me back to Statistical (I called it sta-testicle) in charge of the DOS this time and told me I had to have it in on time (or pretty much be fired). I didn’t have an option to decline it having already done one round of this financial statement. Hell, it was a promotion and doing something I saw as a career was way better than wanting to shoot myself while I did pretty much jack shit in Credit.
This is where the fun begins.
I was now responsible for people and the ratings of thousands of people. All the other employees who worked on it from before had only done the manual version. I was the only one who could work the System 34. While it was a mystery to them on the computer, the sharp eyed finance people could make any financial statement balance with paper, pencil and calculator. These (mostly) girls would sit at their desk and crank out calculations all day, and only leave to go to break (this will be important later).
One of them, my 2nd in command, Carmen Gomez had huge boobs. I’d love to sit with her while we she figured out numbers as she’d plant those babies on my arms at the desk for minutes at a time. I couldn’t have cared less about balancing the numbers. That was her problem. This is the only time I’d sit still for more than 10 minutes. There is no way she didn’t know she was doing this and I was a walking hormone at 22. I didn’t move until she finished as they were the biggest tits I’d been near my whole life.
During my first stint on the DOS, I heard someone say as a joke that you could spread any expense overages like peanut butter over all the departments and no one would notice. It was like when I heard that you could kill a hangover with the hair of the dog. I tucked that nugget away and it would serve me well later.
Here’s where I skip the boring parts where I worked 6 days a week from 8 in the morning to sometimes 11 at night. The only part that matters is that I was alone at night this time.
What is important is that I’m in charge of the computer as I’m the only one who can make it work. I’m alone at night when the computer is crunching and I can see the reports first. They had stopped the manual version so there was no number detail that I had to balance to, just the final expense per category.
Besides drinking, here’s the other Madmen stuff. I now have finance trainee’s working for me doing what I did. In this case they were also girls. There was no hanky panky during the work day, but stay tuned, there will be.
My desk wasn’t in the computer room, so I’d have to run back and forth between the two (me not sitting still, except at Carmen’s desk). I’d pass by the controller’s office. I found out later he was worried about what I was doing because I was never at my desk hammering the calculator like the rest of the robots. His name was Bob Dillon and was about 5’6″, so we nicknamed him shorty. Even Carmen, who was a stiff would come to laugh at that one. His pants were never wrinkled, so we wondered if he took them off to sit down.
When the day workers went home, I put my magic to work. I understood real clear the part about getting it done on time. I also understood the peanut butter reference. I couldn’t balance this thing with scales from NASA, so I gave in quickly to spreading any leftover money to everyone. They each took a few dollars hit and wouldn’t know anyway so what did I care? Since we were fully automated now, they didn’t have a manual version to compare it with, so I was the only one who understood this little secret. They just knew that I was on time and delivered reports every morning.
SOME MORE MADMEN STUFF
As I mentioned, it was my turn to have trainee’s working on the statement. Burdines hired college students by the busload, mostly girls on the marketing side to buy and promote mostly high end merchandise. I got used to the assistant buyers lasting about 6 months and being recycled for new grads. It was like feeding time at the crocodile pit at the zoo when they brought the trainees in. I went out with a million of them, all with bad intentions. This was the Miami Vice time of life so being single in Miami was a time you could live like the Playboy Mansion, and we did. We’d have new stories every week and the girls were in on it too at this time. No one reported anyone to HR for hanky panky with the co-workers or playing grab ass in the hallways. The girls thought it was great and grabbed back. I got picked up one time by the fragrance girl who would spray you with cologne as you went down the escalator. This was before the Karen’s who ruin everything were born.
My trainee on the DOS though was Terri. A 6 foot girl with an attitude that said I could drink with any of you and still get to work. I was busy with the assistant buyers while she worked for me, so I kept it professional during the intense DOS time.
Remember, I had to have it on time and I knew it’s integrity wasn’t going to get in my way.
I missed a lot of life over those months, and a lot of beach time on Saturday. No one could question my commitment to getting it done, although my work ethics might have been somewhat iffy.
After busting ass over many months with many working parts, I sat alone those many nights running programs and printing thousands of pages of reports. They balanced every time because because I forced it. I was about getting it finished on time and not letting shorty know what was going on.
SHENANIGANS
Needless to say, I got it done. It was the first time Burdines was ever on time with the DOS to Federated headquarters. I knew that it was close enough to being mostly representative of what went on (and exact in some places like payroll because Carmen did that one) so I met my personal challenges and my goals at my review. I was a star in the minds of the big shots. Even shorty was happy, although he never knew the shortcuts I took.
On the day we finished, we decided to celebrate by going out to Joe’s Stone Crabs for dinner. The whole crew went (not Carmen, fortunately). The professional drinkers were on display and I was recently out of college in an Animal House fraternity, so I was more than 10 Heineken’s down by the end of dinner.
I told Terri that I was ready to go after a while and I think she wanted me to drive her home. My original intentions weren’t lascivious, but as we drove by Miami International Airport on 836, I decided to throw a trial balloon. I said how about a version of the submarine races? This involved watching planes taking off, with me taking off as much of her clothes as fast as I could.
As I said, she was a good sport. She acted like one of the guys, and no one hit on her during the DOS, so I figured she was ready for action (and many beers down herself). As for looks, I was the best she could hope for and I’d been pulling ass from assistant buyers well out of her league (and she knew it). I was on a recent breakup and ready for a rebound that was meaningless, but hopefully meaningful memory wise.
I also knew she was done in statistical and was moving to her next assignment, so what the hell. She didn’t work for me anymore.
I found what I thought was a private place and parked. I made my move quickly as I figured we were drunk and if I got any push back, I’d just go home. I wasn’t going to try that hard. Well, she was in on the plan and probably hadn’t gotten any since college so her shirt was unbuttoned in no time. I’d had a steady college girlfriend who had the same bra that unsnapped in the front. I had it undone faster than Fonzie from Happy Days, to which her surprised response was wow, you did that well. I said I’d done it before, so she knew she was going to have a ride that night. Let the rodeo begin.
One thing led to another and an hour later we were still going at it. She had a big boat of Mercury with a huge bench seat in the front, so there was plenty of room for her tallness. We were at it from every way you could in a car. The windows in the car were fogged by now.
I thought I’d found a nice sequestered place, but in my drunkenness, I’d parked under a window at the 94th Aero Squadron restaurant. That is the chain at airports that has big windows for watching planes take off and land. They got the show of the century. No one watched the planes that night. Here’s an actual picture of the view at that restaurant. We were right parked right below this.
When we were done, we went home to my apartment for another round. The next morning, I woke up with morning wood and her hand stroking my Johnson. We still had to work (on a Saturday) to clean up records and get it published. Both of us acted like it was just another day, but later I heard she spread the word that I was an animal that night, so it garnered interest from a number of young unsuspecting trainee’s that I wouldn’t otherwise have had a shot at. After we’d both moved on, I’d call her up for beers and sex with no commitment and were friends with benefits.
She even signed my going away card with a reference to watching the planes take off.
Needless to say, the DOS was done on time. I asked and received a transfer to Data Processing to start the PC program, which would start me on my real career in all things personal computing, cloud, networking, PR and AR.
I still got high at work with the internal auditors and did a great job, but moved on from Burdines with an education in how to prioritize things to get the job done, in many aspects of life.
Those were the good days before HR and woke busybodies ruined all the fun. I’d have been fired for any of that stuff today. It’s a damn good thing I retired.
Give them some time alone to get bored, and they come up with this. I was checking out of the Garden shop at Lowes, and found this gem. I think they put the cardboard box on it to shelter it from sun/rain, but someone had too much time on their hands.
I wouldn’t be able to hold a straight face in school.
I remember when conjugating the verb Fahren (to drive/go) in German class. The plural you form is fahrt. We giggled the whole time. I bet Miss Phillips put that day off as long as she could.
In order to judge of the inside of others, study your own; for men in general are very much alike, and though one has one prevailing passion, and another has another, yet their operations are much the same; and whatever engages or disgusts, pleases, or offends you in others will engage, disgust, please or offend others in you.”
And this one for introverts
“Silence and reserve suggest latent power. What some men think has more effect than what others say.”
I’m not able to process the attention that others force on you. To me, it’s just another day and I wish others would treat it that way. I want to crawl in a hole and not come out until it is over.
When I was a waiter, we’d sing the song to the birthday person. Almost always, a drunk table nearby would want it and would ask for us to sing it to them. One time, a party was so belligerent about it, instead of Happy Birthday dear (name), we sang eat a big one you asshole, HBTY.
Back to the point. I never understood why it was such a big deal. I didn’t know it was OK to hate your birthday until I talked to other introverts. It was painful for years. When I found out you didn’t have to suffer through this, I got my family to swear they’d never put me through the fake festivities again.
I think parents are so overboard on their children’s birthdays that they set this false expectation that it’s a real holiday. It was painful for me and I never knew how to act. The kids come to count on it like it is going to make them happier because they got stuff.
The extroverts in my family expect the attention, but it’s difficult for me to sit through that also. I want that to be over as much as when it happens to me.
In my life, charade has taken over any holiday. People get worked up and claim they are happy because of a day that is supposed to be celebrated. I’ve grown to loathe big family gatherings and the month long Christmas ordeal. I see how unhappy they can be. It’s because people set themselves up for false expectations that some holiday or gathering is supposed to make them feel better. Take away their alcohol and it’s a whole different thing.
I can’t buy that nonsense as there are other days in the year that make me happier, but it is organic rather than manufactured. I can even take (a small amount) some celebrations if spontaneous and real.
At this end of my life, I don’t like having another birthday so fast. It just reminds me that that I’ll be crossing the checkered flag in life soon.
A shoplifter gets an ass whoopin’ instead of stealing jewelry. I love a happy ending. They shouldn’t have made it so easy to shop lift, even guys with man boobs think they can take what they want.
The broom handle is becoming the status symbol of business owners who are fed up. pic.twitter.com/Tor7ITcVtG
Hell, half the pressure is stuff we put on ourselves, but then so is half of the enjoyment of pulling it off.
(From the link above)
Men are in competition with each other. Men vie to express dominance, to establish their place in the pecking order.
If a man steps out of line, and assumes a place in the pecking order that is not agreed upon – this place being based upon established social agreements that no one can see, nor express in words – he is summarily dismissed.
If he still believes the territory, he has assumed, is rightfully his, he will endure all manner of insults and attacks, up to, and including, physical attacks
This begins for boys some time just after the toddler stage, and intensifies through the teen years, and early adulthood.
Men find this competition exhilarating, though it is also challenging, and often ends in shocking defeats.
WE MAKE UP GAMES TO COMPETE, EVEN WITH OURSELVES.
See the meme above. One of the unwritten rules for guys is you have to (at least try) to get all the shopping bags in one trip.
Next, we can’t just throw away a wad of paper if there is a hoop to make. Back up and see how far you can be before you miss. Add difficulty by changing hands or twice in a row. Hell, I toss ice cubes that fell on the floor behind my back into the sink. Putting them there would be too easy, or conversely not enough of a challenge.
I told my son this one. You have to open the garage door as far as possible when driving up. You need to know the range in case of (imagined) attack, or whatever. Never can you wait in the driveway while the door is opening.
You have to park in the spot first time. To add difficulty, back in. The ultimate challenge is parallel parking uphill on the wrong side of the street while driving stick shift with people in your car to judge you. It has to be done the first try. (I’ve done it).
Back in my dating years, I had a one with a girl named Shayna who basically picked me up at the Cricket Club in Miami. The next morning I caught shit for not cooking her eggs runny. I knew that was the end of that as soon as the words came out.
The moral of the story, don’t bitch or be a nag (she claimed she was being a JAP, whatever)
We didn’t text back then, but if we did, this was it.
Yes, the elite and upper crust Ivy’s have done it again. Despite having $53 billion in the endowment bank, the kids can’t even eat.
Harvard University Encourages Students To Go On Food Stamps, Even Though It’s the Richest School In The World With A $53 Billion Endowment
Harvard University recently organized an event to support graduate students enrolling in government food assistance programs.
The Health Services office sent a flier to graduate students, encouraging them to participate in the SNAP Benefits Sign-Up event in April. The flier read, “Fuel your body & stock your pantry. Did you know that grad students may qualify for assistance paying for food & groceries?”
Harvard University is the wealthiest academic institution globally, boasting an endowment of approximately $53 billion. With such a substantial endowment, Harvard has the means to support a wide array of academic programs, research endeavors, scholarships and initiatives.
The Harvard Graduate Students Union (HGSU) expressed its view, advocating for more substantial measures to assist graduate students, primarily by increasing their salaries. According to HGSU’s proposal, all graduate student workers should receive a minimum annual salary of $60,000, a significant increase from the current minimum salary of $40,000. The union believes that providing adequate compensation directly to the students would alleviate the need for external assistance programs like SNAP.
The high cost of living in Boston only adds to Harvard students’ struggle. Many people across various professions and walks of life face similar challenges. But the proximity to cutting-edge innovation and opportunities in technology, entrepreneurship and startups presents a potential solution for those seeking to get in at the ground level of the next big thing.
Well, there is one that you don’t hear about that often.
From their website:
It’s always the first Saturday in August, and that means August 5, 2023, is fast approaching. Things are coming together and we have updated information for this year’s event on our National Mustard Day page. We just confirmed our headliner for the French’s Music Stage will be Frank Martin Busch and the Names. Frank grew up in Cuba City, Wisconsin, and brings his Americana music to the main stage. It’s a mix of solid rhythms, jangly guitars, honky tonk piano and harmonicas with a little steel guitars. As Frank calls it, “it’s country music without bedazzled jeans with roots from red dirt country rather than Nashville.”
It’s not complete without that famous treat sure to take the world by storm, Mustard Skittles.
Mustard Skittles are suddenly a thing — and the internet wants to know why
I’m still back and forth between states on the East Coast. I observe the driving habits and various machinery I encounter.
The quick one first. If you are going to drive a piece of crap, get it checked before a long drive. It’s always those cars on the side of the road. It’s like they are gambling to see if they can make it. Getting stuck on the side of the road with no town in sight makes for a terrible day and a very expensive fix. Please make your car road worthy. Show some sense of responsibility.
The thing I fear the most now is a car with a Florida license plate. As they escape the tourists and the heat, they bring their form of driving to torture those of us who know how to do it. It’s hot for the entire year except for 2 weeks in either December or January.
I first noticed it when I had to go there for family. The minute I crossed the Georgia / Florida border, traffic was a free for all.
Fortunately, I don’t go to that hell hole anymore (because of the heat and northerners who invaded and turned driving into a contact sport). The family that I visited are gone now. I have no desire to ever go back there.
They change lanes, the old people are what my friend Rick called them are nesters. They get into the fast lane and drive slow.
They are starting bad driving early now.
Orange County Florida Sheriff’s Deputy catches teen going 132 mph in a Supra and makes his parents come pick him up . You think the Deputy handled it appropriately? pic.twitter.com/NfmpbhMCmx
Whenever I see a Florida license plate now, I know to avoid it. I’m programmed to expect poor driving or road rage and am rarely disappointed.
It’s not limited to the highway where the behavior is exacerbated by speed. I’m in a mountain town that the reverse snow birds come to for getting out of the oven that is Florida weather.
At the only Publix in probably 75 miles, entire rows are cars with Florida plates. The locals dread this time of year and roll their eyes when someone says they live here part time. Almost to a person, they say are you from Florida.
Hell, people from Florida don’t like each other. When I lived on the coast, they called people from Orlando O-villes because they’d come to the coast and ruin the lives of sleepy beach towns.
I have to do the drive soon. I’m hoping to stay in my lane and hope for no Florida drivers.
A Russian vegan influencer with millions of followers on social media recently “died of starvation” at the age of 39 in Malaysia, the New York Post reported.
For the past four years, Zhanna Samsonova, known as Zhanna D’Art, adhered to a “completely raw vegan diet,” primarily consisting of “fruits, sunflower seed sprouts, fruit smoothies and juices,” according to the New York Post.
The influencer drew inspiration from observing her peers’ unhealthy lifestyles, which prompted Zhanna to embrace a strict raw foods regimen, the outlet reported.
The social media star used her platforms to propagate her vegan food philosophy, declaring, “I love my new me, and never move on to the habits that I used to use,” the outlet noted.
Despite efforts to persuade Zhanna to seek medical assistance for her unwavering dietary habits and severe malnutrition, “she didn’t make it.” the outlet noted. One friend, who “lived one floor above her,” constantly “feared finding her lifeless body in the morning,” per the Post.
While Zhanna’s mother has publicly linked her death to a “cholera-like infection,” the official cause remains undisclosed, per the Post.
A strict vegan diet can present numerous deficiencies in essential nutrients like calcium, Vitamin D, and Vitamin B12, per the Post. In a recently published study, all participants following a raw vegan diet consumed less than the recommended 2.4 mcg of Vitamin B12 per day, according to the Journal of Nutrition.
Ultimately, one friend confessed, “Zhanna’s idle stagnation was causing her to melt before our eyes, but she believed everything was fine,” the outlet reported.
Who would have guessed that after transitioning, it didn’t work out. Now, he can’t even kill himself to end the pain. I put he because at some point he was a guy. For the PC Nazis, I’m still sure he was a dude somewhere in the transition.
Being convicted of crimes that warrant capital punishment is not the only thing Canada does not regard as a valid reason to be killed by the government. Canada will kill its citizens for anorexia, PTSD, being poor, or needing a wheelchair lift, but not for plunging into despair after having been sexually deformed in the name of transgenderism:
On July 26, a biological male calling himself Duchess Lois of Alberta announced that he was denied so-called Medical Assistance in Dying (MAiD), a euphemism used in Canada to indicate voluntary execution by a medical professional.
Duchess Lois had applied for the lethal service in January on the grounds that his surgery had sterilized him and irreversibly changed his life.
He certainly seems to qualify:
According to the website Pallipedia, applicants for state-approved euthanasia in Canada can cite a “‘grievous and irremediable medical condition’ that produces unbearable physical or mental suffering that cannot be reversed or relieved ‘under conditions that you consider acceptable’.”
However, suicide is frowned up when it is considered to reflect poorly on the woke agenda.
It isn’t surprising that some victims of “gender-affirming care” want to be put out of their misery. On top of the sheer horror of what has been done to them, they endure pain and incontinence:
A huge majority – 81 percent – of those who had gender-affirming surgery in the past five years said they endured pain simply from moving around in the weeks and months after going under the knife.
Researchers from the University of Florida and Brooks Rehabilitation, a health non-profit, showed that more than half of trans surgery patients endured pain during sex, and nearly a third could not control their bladders.
Anyone who would put children on track for these procedures for the sake of advancing LGBT ideology is a fiend likely to burn in hell.
Click on the link to see what is happening to the jabbed. I’m sorry if you got one. All of my friends did too. The Covid jab didn’t stop Covid nor it’s transmission. It was a lie that the current administration told.
Don’t ever trust the government, the CDC, WHO, UN or any organization that says you have to do something again. It is life or death, and they choose your death.
And all this time I read that global warming was thinning the herd, of bears and people. Bears are dangerous, so is being in their home.
WEST YELLOWSTONE, Montana (AP) — A woman was found dead in Montana on Saturday after coming into contact with a grizzly bear on a trail west of Yellowstone National Park.
The Montana Department of Fish, Wildlife and Parks said in a statement on Sunday that the woman was found deceased on a trail near West Yellowstone, a Montana town nestled in the Custer Gallatin National Forest just west of Yellowstone National Park.
They said the woman was found deceased “following an apparent bear encounter” based on what investigators determined were grizzly bear tracks at the scene. The department said the investigation into the grizzly attack was ongoing.
Rangers issued an emergency closure of the area where the woman was found, which is popular with hikers.
Though the department’s statement said the death appeared to have followed the woman’s interaction with the bear, it did not confirm her cause of death.
The attack comes amid a rise in Montana’s grizzly bear population and an increase in sightings.
The department put out a news release last week warning visitors that staff had confirmed grizzly bear sightings throughout the state, “particularly in areas between the Northern Continental Divide and the Great Yellowstone ecosystems.”
They implored those camping and visiting parks to carry bear spray, store their food while outside and tend to their garbage.
A surprising source of PFAS exposure and pollution is toilet paper, as a recent study reveals.
Toilet paper has been shown to contain significant doses of PFAS chemicals linked to impaired testicular function in men. 👇
A study from March of this year revealed that significant quantities of PFAS are found in virtually every brand of toilet paper on the market. The average American will use 26kg of toilet paper a year. 19+ billion lb of toilet paper are flushed down American toilets each year.
PFAS (per- and poly-fluoroalkyl substances) are vicious hormone-disrupting chemicals that are ubiquitous today because of their use in plastics, fire retardants, non-stick coatings, ammunition and contact lenses, among other things. PFAS are also obesogenic and linked to a…
wide variety of other conditions like cancers and auto-immune disorders.
If you want to read more about PFAS, try my latest article for American Greatness.
In the recent study, the researchers looked at toilet paper and sewage from around the world and tested for the presence of 34 different types of PFAS.
PFAS chemicals are regularly used in paper-manufacturing.
Recycled paper will often get a double dose (i.e. once when the paper was first made, then again when it’s recycled).
The PFAS most present in toilet paper and sewage was 6:2 diPAP, which has been linked to impaired testicular function in men (👇).
6:2 diPAP was 91% of all PFAS detected in the toilet paper samples, and 54% in the sewage samples. Toilet paper usage contributes PFAS to the water supply in the parts per billion. The EPA measures dangerous levels of PFAS in parts per TRILLION…
What’s even worse about 6:2 diPAP is that it is a precursor chemical. It can become far worse chemicals by interacting with human waste, including PFOA, among the most dangerous forms of PFAS. It’s likely that toilet paper may be putting large quantities of PFOA into wastewater.
It’s also probable that the anus is therefore also a significant source of PFAS absorption into the body.
Maybe what we need now is a brand of organic PFAS-free right-wing toilet paper…
When I was younger, I was out with some friends. We were eating oysters and drinking pitchers of beer (no Bud Light back then, I’m that old). I slurped down an oyster and my buddy’s girlfriend comes out with this beauty. Now you know what it is like to swallow.
“Great talents, such as honor, virtue, and learning are above the generality of the world, who neither possess them themselves, nor judge of them rightly in others; but all people are judges of the lesser talents, such as civility, affability, and an obliging, agreeable address and manner, because they feel the good effects of them.”
I eliminated a lot of social media because it lost almost all of it’s civility, affability and agreeable address and manner.
I’d post something or read a statement that someone said and by the 4th comment, people (likely unqualified) on the subject would try to tear down your position, call bullshit or start their own thread of whatever social position they supported.
It was tiresome, usually wrong and generally vengeful.
My life is much better without that cesspool. I also have a lot of time back to do more enjoyable things in my life.
As an introvert, it was like being at a party I wanted to leave as soon as I got there. I just don’t go to that party anymore.
So Chuckles clown’s son just decided to trash America. His loser, the Spare, is a direct descendant of George III. George went crazy, likely from inbreeding. Those genes look like they re-surfaced.
Here’s a guy who had everything. He didn’t have to work other than to show up at events and not be a retard about it. He had access to millions, servants, castles for homes, private yachts and planes and all the perks to enjoy a life. He had access to all the women he wanted.
All of this and he threw it away for a domineering racist B actress who has such a case of entitlement that she got Harry to throw everything away. For what?
These types of marriages have low percentages against them for lasting. Then, he has to play the prodigal son and crawl back to the palace with the kingdom of England against him for being an Benedict Arnold and trashing his homeland. He’s consigned himself to to loserdom because of a mean girl who didn’t get her way. She played the race card to pretend that being a royal was somehow a victimhood issue.
Even Chris rock said about her whining that her white in-laws were worried about the color of their kid was in-law problems, not race problems. He said that black people were more interested in the color of the baby than others. Why is it that the half-black/white group seem to be the biggest whiners and play the race card the quickest (Obama, Lewis Hamilton, Kaepernick, and on and on….)
I have European in-laws. They love to trash America. I know it is because everyone hates number one or those who have done better. I’ve got news for them and Harry, you can’t make yourself better by bringing others down. I’d rather not talk to them than hear their whining. They just repeat what they read in the liberal press. They can’t even get their facts right.
Harry has managed to piss of both England and now America. It sucks to be inbred. It sucks even worse to be led around by an ungrateful little bitch with an ax to grind.
Grow a set Harry.
He, like my in-laws are wrong about America, and he played the fool for a girl.
The signing of the Declaration of Independence in 1776 brought a new era and good riddance to the tone-deaf aristocracy under King George III.
With the ratification of the U.S. Constitution in 1788, America’s new experiment in self-rule was formally initiated. This document established the framework for the U.S. government, both its institutional structure and the rights of its citizens.
Today, the United Kingdom’s Prince Harry doesn’t understand this, apparently. We’ll get to that shortly.
The Framers of the Constitution were heavily influenced by Enlightenment ideals, including the power of human agency, importance of individual rights, necessity of religious freedom, fundamentality of a just society, and primacy of seeking the truth. They created a system of government that, first and foremost, would not interfere in the development of these virtues.
Thus, “American” values include individual liberty in the pursuit of happiness, respect for the equal rights of others, limited government shaped by the consent of the governed, a merit-based system of rewards, and the pursuit of truth as a societal virtue.
Today, each and every one of these values—along with the system that upholds them—is under vigorous attack by powerful subversives for whom they are anathema.
These subversives seem driven by one of two primary impulses.
The first is as old as humankind: the satisfaction of the base human passions. This includes, especially, the accumulation of wealth, exercise of power, and the indulgence of sensory pleasures (and, typically, all three simultaneously). This group includes the so-called globalist elite who view a strong U.S. driven by American values as an obstacle to its insatiable appetite for wealth, power, and consequence-free physical indulgence.
The second group is driven by dogma. These are the disciples of Karl Marx and fellow travelers who believe that once some group attains social primacy, that group will use its power to tweak all the institutions in a way that ensures the continuation of the group’s dominant position.
This includes legal institutions, government structures, culture, language, and even rational thinking. This “systemic” lock-in is so resistant to change, so the story goes, that the only solution for the oppressed is to completely destroy the institutions.
Marxist values include limited liberty in the pursuit of equity, unequal rights in the pursuit of diversity, unlimited government shaped by the consent of the oppressed, a system of rewards via identity-based notions of inclusion, and a rejection of the very notion of truth.
Note that, while these two types may be united in their animus toward the U.S., it is axiomatic that a single individual cannot truly be both. That is, one cannot be a wealth- and power-maximizing hedonist while, at the same time, fully embracing Marxist values. Or so it seems.
Yet, here we face the perplexing case of Prince Harry, a descendant of King George III himself. Following the prince’s attacks on the British Commonwealth, he has turned his attention to bulldozing American values.
This is perplexing because, on the one hand, Harry, Duke of Sussex, enjoys all the privileges of the globalist elite. Yet, on the other hand, he enthusiastically embraces the anti-American values of Marxist dogmatists.
It is difficult to imagine how Harry deals with the implied internal contradictions without blowing a gasket—much like the “supercomputer” in Season 2 Episode 24 of TV’s original “Star Trek,” which self-destructed when Kirk presented it with a logical dilemma. Perhaps a dogged fixation on the object of animus common to both groups, the U.S., is enough for Harry to keep it together.
Alternatively, the answer may lie in really believing that there is no such thing as objective truth. After all, Kirk’s AI antagonist was hard-wired to adhere to logic. The logical demands of Marxist dogma are much more elastic.
Exhibit 1 is the prince’s bestselling autobiography “Spare,” a canonical instance of the postmodern genre in which knowledge is “positional” and one’s “lived experience” takes precedence over logical, fact-based arguments.
“Spare” is riddled with historical inaccuracies and objectively untrue claims, such as identifying Harry as Henry VI’s great x7 grandson.
Harry also writes about his general disdain of history, recalling a visit to the Royal Burial Ground at Frogmore with his father, now King Charles III:
A lifelong student of history, [Pa] had loads of information to share, and part of me thought we might be there for hours, and there might be a test at the end. Mercifully, he stopped, and we carried on.
Harry had no interest in more formal lessons from his history teacher, identified as a Mr. Hughes-Games:
So it came as a roaring shock when I realized that Mr. Hughes-Games believed me to be the odd one. What could be odder, he said to me one day, than a British prince not knowing British history? … It wasn’t just that I didn’t know anything about my family’s history. I didn’t want to know anything.
Once the problem of being a self-hating elitist is solved, all the other anti-American values can follow.
For example, Harry’s flagrant disregard for the rule of law, as evidenced by his illegal drug use in passages such as this:
I had been doing cocaine around this time. At someone’s country house, during a shooting weekend, I’d been offered a line, and I’d done a few more since.
Or his disregard for the truth, as evidenced by his unwillingness to release his U.S. visa paperwork.
Or his indifference to human dignity, as evidenced by his macabre discussion of kill counts in Afghanistan, including:
I could always say precisely how many enemy combatants I’d killed. And I felt it vital never to shy away from that number. … So, my number: Twenty-five.
Or his inability to understand democracy, about which U.S. Sen. Mike Lee, R-Utah, tweeted: “Love being lectured on democracy by an actual prince.”
Still, one marvels at Harry’s ability to forge ahead as the embodiment of two mutually inconsistent dispositions.
Is it a maniacal focus on the common object of animus? Is it the dogmatic rejection of logic itself?
British author Alexander Larman suggests that the answer is simply that Prince Harry, at 38, “is even more stupid than we thought.”
“Knowledge is a comfortable and necessary retreat and shelter for us in advanced age, and if we do not plant it while young, it will give us no shade when we grow old.”
“A weak mind is like a microscope, which magnifies trifling things, but cannot receive great ones.”
I get having to go after 5 beers, but having a girl testing your manhood is a lot of pressure. It would be like swimming in cold water. You lose an inch or two, no matter how big those 5 beers tell you it is.
It’s hard to imagine that people can’t figure out that males and females are different. They are supposed to be. Just because you don’t like yourself, it doesn’t mean that it’s going to make your life any better by trying to be something you are not. If you can’t accept yourself as who you are, don’t think we’re going to accept the fake version of you.
We’ve already found out that men don’t make good women. They can kick ass in girls sports, but can’t sell beer very well as girls. They’ll never be able to have a baby either, kind of the big male/female differentiator.
I see Ryan Mulvanney like all real men do. He was the pussy in school who got his ass kicked. After the butt light commercial, a lot of guys would administer that just out of duty to other men. Instead of bucking up and trying harder, he decided to try and be a girl and was marketing poison.
HERE IS THE REAL STORY, WHY A GIRL CAN’T BE A GUY
Now, we have this girl that is crying because she found out that men are competitive, loners and don’t need other men to cry with in the bathroom.
So speaking of pussies, here is the girl who has pretended to be a guy, crying because she can’t share her feelings with other guys in the bathroom. I’ve got a clue for you girl, guys don’t share their feelings. We never give away any competitive advantage.
This is really sad. Trans man realizes how hard it is to be a man when you’re really a woman.
Males and females are different and no matter what you do to your body, you can’t be the opposite sex. pic.twitter.com/Ib2in2vJrb
Men are in competition with each other. Men vie to express dominance, to establish their place in the pecking order.
If a man steps out of line, and assumes a place in the pecking order that is not agreed upon – this place being based upon established social agreements that no one can see, nor express in words – he is summarily dismissed.
If he still believes the territory, he has assumed, is rightfully his, he will endure all manner of insults and attacks, up to, and including, physical attacks
This begins for boys some time just after the toddler stage, and intensifies throug the teen years, and early adulthood.
Men find this competition exhilarating, though it is also challenging, and often ends in shocking defeats.
We pick ourselves up, nurse our wounds, and go back to do battle on this invisible turf.
This is a fact of manhood that a woman can not know, because, as I said, this pecking order is based upon ESTABLISHED social agreements that no one can see, nor express in words.
I would imagine this must be a shocking fact of life for a Trans “man”, to find that he has no place, because he never fought for it, and is completely unaware of the competition which is raging all around him.
It must be profoundly disorienting.
And it is because these Trans “men” have never fought for their territory – and enter into this competition completely unaware, blind to that which is clear as day to man = that they can never be more than a cheap imitation of man; a mockery of a notion of manhood, perceived from the outside.
Here’s our life, fighting for everything and every inch of ground we gain in life.
You may change your appearance, but you can’t change your gender or ever know what the other gender is like. It’s why men don’t have a clue what girls are thinking. At some point in all of our lives, we give up trying and just live our life. It’s much better that way.
Delusions of Adequacy 