Pat Robertson Is a Douchenozzle

(And I only call him a douchenozzle because cheesy pus rectal cancer odoriferous son of a bitch was a little long for the title.)

I read yesterday that Pat Robertson is saying the recent earthquake in Haiti is simply an exhibition of God’s wrath.  That the people of Haiti brought this on themselves.

What.  The.  Fuck??!?

I’ve come to the conclusion that there are two types of Christians:

  • The Christians who seem to embody the teachings of Jesus Christ.  These people go about their daily lives being good and decent people.  They are thoughtful and kind, and never tell anyone they’re going to hell because they haven’t “accepted Jesus Christ as their personal savior.”  These lovely people proclaim their faith in deeds and not words.  My Christian friends are of this variety, and I treasure each and every one.
  • The Christians who make a mockery of everything Jesus Christ taught.  These people go about their daily lives railing on about how God hates everything and everyone who isn’t just like them.  They loudly shout that God is punishing the world.  They have the Old Testament Yahweh seriously confused with the New Testament Jesus.  They have to proclaim their faith in words (but do those words have to be so hateful?) because they certainly do not proclaim it in their deeds.

Pat Robertson belongs to this second group of “Christians.”

It is the Pat Robertsons and Fred Phelpses of this world that make me eschew Christianity.  Oh, I’m happy to study it… along with Judaism, Islam, Hinduism, Buddhism, Wicca, Taoism and many others.  But there is just too much Public Display of Hatred coming from “Christians” of a certain stripe for me to align myself with that faith system.  Unfortunately, my friends in the first category of Christians seem to be in the minority.  And that’s too bad.

Dear AT&T

Up until a couple of minutes ago, I was pretty happy with your service.  However, I just got off the phone with the third customer service representative who has assured me that I won’t be getting any more text solicitations from you.  Since the first two customer service representatives were grossly mistaken about that, you can see where I’m having a hard time believing this third one.

Let me be perfectly clear: I do not care one tiny bit that the text messages are free.  I don’t want to be receiving them.  I don’t need tips on how to use my phone.  That would be what the user manual is for and I’m one of the few people on the planet who actually read the fucking manual.  There is no need for you to tell me I can access Google on my phone… I discovered that on Day One when I read the manual.

As I just told the latest customer service representative, you’re pissing me off so badly, I’m considering switching to a different service provider.  The only problem with that plan is that the others suck more than you do (or in the case of Verizon, hire ad agencies where the employees desecrate the English language).

Stop the text messages, AT&T.  This is harassment, and the next call with be to the nice people at the Do No Call registry.  (Ok, I’ll just report your harassment on their website.  But I’m still going to be reporting you.)

Another Reason I Don’t Fly

I read recently that the federal government has told the airline industry that they can’t keep people on planes anymore if the flight has been delayed more than three hours.  In the world in which I live, I would need massive amounts of Valium to survive even one hour out on the tarmac waiting for takeoff.

Really, people?  Planes sit out on the runway for hours and hours and hours before taking off?  No, no… I’m sure it’s true.  I read the statistics, I see that it happens.  But what I’m really wondering is how many of those people stuck on airplanes for hours and hours and hours, just sitting on the runway and not even flying in the air, totally lose their shit.  Because I’d be having a major meltdown.

I used to fly semi-regularly between Denver and New York.  That’s a relatively short flight, but I’d be starting to bug out just about the time we started making our approach into Newark or La Guardia or Kennedy.  Maybe I have a bit of claustrophobia.  Maybe I’m a wee bit anti-social.  Maybe I have some hypochondria that makes me dislike (in the extreme) breathing in other people’s germs.  Maybe I just don’t like being jammed into a teensy space until every part of my body hurts.  Whatever the reason, I really don’t like to fly.

I could get a direct flight from Albany to Chicago (both O’Hare and Midway), but I’d rather drive the 13 hours out there.  Yeah, it helps that I really like to drive.  My mother-in-law wants us to come visit them in Florida… but my Spousal Unit can’t get me on a plane and I can’t get him to sit still in my car for 20 hours.  It’s sad, really.  I’m really lucky that all the places I’ve had to travel for work have been in Pennsylvania… in and around Philadelphia.  That’s a nice little drive.  Driving out to Boston isn’t bad.  Actually, driving anywhere in New England is pretty nice.  (Not in winter.  Let’s not talk about winter.  Although, I did drive back from Chicago in a snow storm that last time.)

So the fact that domestic airlines (apparently there are no rules for international flights) can keep people locked in their planes on the runways for up to three hours is not exactly encouraging me to get on a plane any time soon.  I just wonder… if I can’t get someplace by driving, is it someplace I really want to be anyway?

Dear Realtors

You guys (and gals) aren’t very good at picking up on subtle hints, are you?  The fact that I’m not calling you back should give you some sort of clue.  I’d like to think it would give you the idea that I might not be interested in talking to you.  But I guess not.

Ok, so I’ll spell it out.  Yes, I know that the MLS listing on my house expired.  Not that it’s any of your business, but I’m not interested in selling my house in the winter.  I just don’t want to, and that’s my decision.  I will reconsider my options in the spring.

It’s not likely that I’m going to call any of you.  I might email some of you, but I won’t call.  And I’m not going to contact the one of you (and you know who you are) who leaves nasty messages implying that I really should call you back.  No.  I don’t need to call you back.  I did not invite your call, so I’m under no obligation to return an unwanted phone call.

Also… don’t just show up at my house.  Don’t be peeking into windows.  If I see you doing that again, I’m going to call the police.  That’s just plain rude.  And illegal.

Actually, what I’ll probably do in the spring is get names of realtors from all my friends, and then contact (via email) the ones who haven’t been harassing me for the past month.  If you stop bothering me now, I might just take your names off the “naughty” list.  No promises, though.

Dear Firefox

Thank you for updating yourself.  Thank you, also, for totally screwing up how stuff on new tabs is displayed.  And by “stuff,” I mean the “absolutely nothing” that I expect.  Yes, yes.  I read your blog.  And read how you think that while everyone might want to see something different in the new tab they just opened, nobody wants to see absolutely nothing.

That’s a lie, Firefox!  I want to see absolutely nothing.  It’s very soothing and very Zen-like.  You’re killin’ the buzz, Firefox.  True, this is the first time you’ve seriously annoyed me, but it’s not easy to forgive something this egregious.  Is it time to go back to Opera?

Dear Verizon

I passed by one of your billboard advertisements the other night.  I suggest you fire your ad agency for this one.

“A bare-knuckled bucket of does”?  Seriously?  That’s the dumbest billboard being displayed in the Capital District right now.  First of all, I don’t think you’ll be able to find a bucket big enough to hold a single doe, never mind multiple does.  Deer may not be as big as moose and elk, but they’re not as small as chihuahuas either.  Plus, I’ve never seen a bucket with knuckles, bare or not.  What does this nonsense even mean?  I couldn’t even tell what you’re trying to sell, but when I do, I’ll be sure not to buy it.

In more succinct billboard news, the Mega Million lottery  is up to $83 million.

What Gives You the Right?

What gives you the right to tell me who I can and can’t marry?  What gives you the right to tell anyone who they can and can’t marry?

Fifty years ago, people would have been up in arms (or worse) if I had voiced the notion that I wanted to marry an African American man.  Seventy-five years ago, people (certainly people in my family) would have been appalled if I’d wanted to marry a Jewish man.  Today, people get crazy if I say I’d be happy to marry a woman.

What gives you people the right to dictate who can get that piece of paper that legalizes a marriage?  It’s a piece of paper that’s provided by a government agency.  I know this because I have one of those pieces of paper, and it was the County of Jefferson in the State of Colorado that gave it to me.  That makes marriage a civil right.  Don’t you be bringing the argument of religion into it, either, bub.  As much as certain people in this country seem to think otherwise, we do not have a single, sanctioned, state-supported religion in this country.  We have this thing called “separation of church and state,” and I know there are people out there who just hate that.  Well, grow up.  Do you know how many religions the various people in this country adhere to?  Neither do I, but here’s a hint: religionsInUSA <> 1.  So you can’t have religion mixed in with politics without pissing off all the people that don’t adhere to the religion that gets picked.

And don’t start that bullshit about voting about who gets to be married.  You’re just trying to inflict your particular brand of religious idiosyncrasy on me, and I won’t have it.  Nobody gets to tell me who I’m going to love and spend the rest of my life with except me and the person I’m spending the rest of my life with.  You know what?  If marriage between a man and a woman got voted into nothingness, I’d be ok with that.  Not because I don’t want to be married (because I wouldn’t have gotten married in the first place if I didn’t want to be married), but because then it would be fair for everyone.

You’re the same people who voted so that my mother couldn’t marry an African American man.  It’s irrelevant that the thought never crossed her mind.  At least it was just peer pressure that kept my grandmothers from marrying Jewish men.  I sure as hell don’t want you telling my daughter who she can and can’t marry, because it’s none of your damn business.  I’m her mother, and even I wouldn’t have the audacity to tell her who to love.

If you don’t want to marry someone of the same gender, then don’t.  It’s really that simple.  Leave the rest of us alone.  Leave me alone, leave my daughter alone, leave my friends alone.

And don’t bother with your hateful comments, either, because I’m just going to delete them.  I had enough of you back when I was on Prodigy and Delphi and CompuServe.  Just go away.

Sometimes I Delete Comments

NaBloPoMo Day 28

Well, actually I mark them as spam so Akismet knows to shut the door in your face next time.

Listen, if you have something to say that pertains to the post, that’s cool.  It does need to be written in fairly coherent English, but I’m not going to hold you to the same standards I hold myself.  I’m not going to let your word salad comments stand, though.  And I’ll delete your comments if you have links that I don’t find relevant, too.  Hmmm, sometimes I’ll just edit your comment and delete the links… depends on my mood.

My house, my rules.  If you come to my house and start speaking in tongues, I’m going to call the nice young men in their clean white coats to come take you away.  If you set up your slide projector in my living room and start sharing pictures of your last vacation to the rest of my guests I’m just going to toss your slides out into the street.  And call the guys in the white coats for you.

And if you want to know how I really feel about spam, check out what Jim has to say.  He’s incredibly eloquent.  I couldn’t have said it better myself.

Yo. Microsoft.

NaBloPoMo Day 24

You put this Windows Defender thing on my computer without my permission.  And you update it every other frackin’ day. You’re really bugging me, Microsoft.

Why do you think you know better than I do?  Huh?  Why?  I have an anti-virus/anti-spyware program already.  It’s a program I really like, and I trust its ability to sniff out and eradicate viruses and spyware so much more than I trust you, Microsoft.  After all, you haven’t exactly been the world’s leader is preventing hackers and spammers from doing what they do best, have you?  No.  You haven’t.

So stop trying to foist your version of programs onto the rest of us.  I don’t use, nor do I want, Internet Explorer.  Firefox makes me really happy.  I don’t use, nor do I want, your Windows Defender.  Yeah, that’s right.  I turn it off after every reboot.  I’m surprised my security software of choice hasn’t tagged you as malicious.  Ha!  Now, that would be funny.  If you want to protect the people who are dumb enough to use a computer without security software, that’s fine.  But for those of us with brains, you need to give us the option to remove the stuff we don’t want.

Are you listening to me, Microsoft?

No.  Of course not.


People Who Should be Committed

NaBloPoMo Day 21

There are certain people who do inappropriate things in and to cars who ought to be locked up in a mental health facility because they are a danger to themselves and others:

  • The person who drives 20 (or more) miles per hour below the speed limit…  someday, someone driving a Hummer is going to run them over after they’ve caused the blood pressure of the 87 people behind them to rise to dangerous levels.
  • The person who plays chicken with oncoming traffic by making illegal left turns… one of these days, it’s going to be safer for me not to slam on my brakes to keep from hitting your stupid ass because I’m afraid of the person behind me driving the Hummer.
  • The person who PARKS HIS CAR in the traffic lane rather than pull into the parking space that is 10 yards further up the street.  Sometimes these people actually BLOCK a parking space to park in the traffic lane.
  • The person who put those headlights in his car that burn out my retinas.  Are you insane??  Oh wait.  Yes.  You are.  The next time you drive towards me and blind me, maybe I’ll be driving a Hummer and crash into you.  Because I’m blind.  And it’s your fault.

There are other crazy people in the world.  This list is just a first draft.

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