People that scare me, Ep. II: A Barrage of Scoffage

People who love tennis
This is a brand new inside joke from this very blog you are reading. Good news is, you can totally get in on it by reading some old posts and comments. My ground-breaking research has concluded that people who love tennis may not be very trustworthy.

People who don't get sarcasm
This is mainly an issue of personal safety. The reason why I'm afraid of them a little bit is that, if they don't understand sarcasm, they're going to think I'm being serious. Which in turn means they think I am really mean, and they may want to hurt me. Well, wait....I am a little bit mean sometimes. I do enjoy making fun of people. I am making fun of them right now actually, so they do have a reason to be upset. Alright, whatever, bring it on. I have a large stockpile of witty insults at the ready, and basketball is my favorite sport. #(inside joke alert!!)#

People who can't use chopsticks
And it isn't just that they can't, it's that they are also afraid to try because they think they'll be bad at it. Be bad at....what, exactly? Manipulating two tiny sticks with your fingers? Not only is this a "skill" that is easily mastered with about five minutes of this thing called effort, but it is also fairly inconsequential if you slip up while you're learning. No "epic fails" on this one, really. Thus, it is sort of a ridiculous thing to waste fear and pride on.

Hey, anti-chopstickers: It is actually making you look worse by not trying, but you are so self-conscious you can't even leave yourself open to eight seconds of possible humiliation. Yep we're waiting. We're all sitting here, thinking "Oh, she can't use chopsticks, but she is going to try. Oh, here she goes--stop everything and watch! This is going to be so humiliating for the minute that she is learning. EPIC FAIL!"

I take it back. There are epic fails in Chopstickland.
www.buzzlol.com

Does it help if I tell you that you're using extremely similar motions and coordination as sending a text message? Same fingers, same muscles, that whole hand-eye coordination bit that we also use to eat with "regular" utensils. "I just need regular utensils...." Tell me what is so irregular about chopsticks. The fact that they've been around for much, much longer than forks?

If you are seriously incapable of the usage of chopsticks as a utensil, there is a myriad of other things I am going to say right now that I think you are incapable of: braiding hair, writing very quickly with a large pen, playing Super Mario World or Metal Gear Solid to completion, clicking a mouse....and therefore other things, driving a car (that's a big one!), flicking someone in the eyeball, shooting a straw wrapper off the end of a straw, shampooing your hair, tying your shoes, paper-clipping shit, cutting shit with scissors, and placing your hand under your chin and then tapping the side of your face with your pointer finger like you are thinking of something devious or philosophical (that's an important one, too.)

Valid excuses: injuries to the extremities that prevent utensil usage, being five years old. Otherwise, suck it up, shove that wood between your fingers, and figure out your life. I'll be waiting with a camera for when you humiliate yourself.

P.S. You may be wondering about the video game examples I chose. While some things I say may be a tad random, these were actually very well thought out choices. Firstly, there is that Cheesebridge bit in Super Mario World, where you have to fly under the "final gate" of the world. But you have about an inch of error (which is a completely irrelevant term to measure with since everyone has different sizes of TVs! But for me it was an inch) between dropping off the bottom of the screen and thus, dying, or accidentally hitting the tape on the gate and finishing the level without unlocking the secret. So it becomes this sickening, suicidal rampage for which you had better have eighty lives stockpiled, until you can master a maneuver that requires every ounce of hand-eye coordination you can muster, and every little button on that sweet little controller.

Metal Gear Solid is a bit more straight-forward. There is a scene where you (as Solid Snake) get captured, whether you like it or not (right after the epic Sniper Wolf showdown, so you are coming off of a nice video game adrenaline-induced high and they just kill it--wtf?) and you are tortured. You have to tap the shit out of alternating buttons to "survive" the torture and not crack. If you give in, they kill some chick that I don't think Snake was all that fond of to begin with? Anyway, if you don't puss out, he rides off into the sunset on a snowmobile with a typical big-breasted, Japanese video game heroine that is way too young for the Solid. Otherwise, he rides off with the nerdy, socially inept scientist who unwillingly programmed the Metal Gear killing machine prototype that you just fucking destroyed. And it's awkward...

You probably weren't wondering. But now you know.

Fakewords: #chopstickers, #Chopstickland, #Cheesebridge, #wtf

RollerCoaster Tycoon

The subject of one of the biggest time-sucks of my young life was brought up in a conversation over the weekend. If you aren't familiar with the concept of tycoon style games, I will just give you a quick run down: they simulate the building and workings of some sort of themed park (amusement, dinosaurs, zoo, etc.) by playing on the inner greed of every human while completely desensitizing you to real life.

Amusement parks forever changed for me after playing that game. One of the focal points of the game was getting to build your own gigantic, monster, puke inducing roller coasters, then advertise the heck out of it and charge an extra ten bucks to ride the damn thing....but I digress. What are you inevitably going to do if you have full control over building these roller coasters? 

Design them to crash. 

Don't give me this "just to see if it works" bullshit. Of course it works! If you send a roller coaster car zooming up a hill that isn't finished, it doesn't disappear into a black hole, or just start back at the beginning! That thing crashes and burns! So maybe you started out just doing this with empty cars. "Just to see if it works". But after a few hours, your park is pretty much running itself, and you are a gazillionaire, so things are a bit boring. What better way to bust your in-game rut than to put some people on a death trap and see what happens!

No surprise here, folks. They die, in a red explosion of animated fire and people parts. So this is the part where, in real life, the ambulances show up to, I don't know...I guess see if any of the people parts are salvageable? And then your park gets shut down for a little while and then you are probably going to court. Your ass is getting sued for designing this death trap and letting people get on it (and charging ten bucks! The nerve.). So, how does RCT handle death in an amusement park?

--80 guests have died on 'The Death Trap'!

--500 guests are looking for cotton candy.

--There is puke everywhere. You need more janitors.

Yep. "Oh, some people died! Business as usual, business as usual, money money money." Now, to be fair, your park rating goes down, and a large majority of the park visitors will not go near The Death Trap. Um, duh. But do you have to pay a fine? No. Do you have to tear it down or close the park? No. Do you have to do anything to show remorse for the fact that your Death Trap just killed 800 people? Unless you consider having to hire another entertainer to cheer the guests up 'remorse', then the answer is no. No remorse. 

You can't see it from here, but those sidewalks
are practically made out of vomit.
xbox.ign.com

The game was actually more concerned about flower gardens dying than people. Which in turn causes you to spend all your time watering the gardens. And making sure the janitors scrub the puke off the sidewalks. Puke scrubbing and garden maintenance? Seriously? Screw this, I'm gonna see if I can crash a roller coaster into a crowded bridge.

--8,000 people just died on 'This will teach you to puke in my park'! And on the sidewalk.

--Did you build that cotton candy stand yet? People are getting pretty hungry, so now would be a good time to raise prices.

--People are puking because of the people parts all over the sidewalk. You should hire another janitor to scrub up the people parts and probably an entertainer, too, to take everyone's mind off the carnage.

--You've been voted 'Least Safe Park of the Year.' You've also been voted 'Prettiest Park in the World'! Keep up the good work. Here is a gazillion dollars.

The brief thought crossed my mocking mind that they should have had some punishment for killing people. They should make you shut down the park for an hour, which is like two or three days in game-time. They should have made you tear down The Death Trap, or at least make some show of correcting the death element. They should have fined you, you greedy little teenager! Let's take your fake amusement park simulation earnings and see how you like killing people now! 

"But, that's not fair! I was just seeing if it worked!"

The real topper on the simulation cake would have been to make you, the player, hire a lawyer and sit through some ten-minute court proceeding in which you are berated by an animated prosecuting attorney, then not only have to pay up to the deceased's families, but shell out the cash for your lawyer, as well. But in all honesty, do you know what I would have done? Hit the bathroom, melted some cheese on some tortilla chips, grabbed a Mountain Dew, then used a cheat code to get the necessary funds to pay off the lawyer and the crying families. 

Are you kidding me? I have been playing computer games since I was about six-years-old, and console games since even before that. My desensitization occurred long before RCT. And has continued since. For the sake of nostalging, I will probably spend a chunk of my day trying to download RCT, then crashing The Death Trap into a sidewalk full of people--preferably the line waiting for The Death Trap, for irony. Who the hell gets on a ride called 'The Death Trap'? Furreal, now.

I will however get very upset if some punks decide to vandalize my lamp posts. Unacceptable. And it goes without saying that my gardens will be perfect....

Fakewords: #gazillionaire, #RCT, #nostalging, #Furreal

People that scare me, Ep. I: The HBD haters

People who write off Historical Bad Dudes
Oh yes. It's capitalized, bitches. And you totally know who I'm talking about. The Historical Bad Dudes AND the people who just wave them off because they were defeated by 'Merica and our Planet Police Predecessors (also capitalized), all those Elizabeths and Henrys. Or they become irate with you for showing some sort of interest or (gasp!) respect for them.

"WHY DO YOU HAVE BOOKS ABOUT HITLER?"

"Because, I--"

"You hate Jewish people!"

"No, I really don't, I just--"

"And gay people!"

"Now, hold on--"

"And the Easter Bunny!"

"Are you going to let me talk?"

"You want to rule the world!"

"Now there you've got me."

"You must be a vegetarian."

" ........shit."

For cereal, though, folks. If you have any concern for the future, it is wise to familiarize yourself with the past. The average person understands this, but not everyone seems to understand that this also means "the bad shit." And obtaining knowledge about someone, or having respect for some aspects of their life, does not mean you condone the bad shit that they did. Most modern Historical Bad Dudes really did think they were doing what was best for their people, their country, and the future.They were complex packages full of good philosophies, genius military and leadership skills, and underlying psychotic elements and one or more really flawed points of logic, a.k.a really bad ideas. Obviously, they wouldn't fall into the Historical Bad Dude category if they didn't do something that we, as looker-backers, deemed bad shit or a really bad idea.

I have a Historical Bad Dude crush. Actually, I have a few, but for right now, let's just talk about my latest one. His name is Napoleon Bonaparte. As far as Historical Bad Dudes are concerned, he is fairly tame. He just really pissed off our Planet Police Predecessors on enough occasions that they, in typical fashion, made a big deal out of it, throwing the tea cups down and draggin' out the suits of armor and freakin' armadas. Also, he falls into HBD category because, and this is key now, kids: he lost. Multiple times actually. Loser=Bad Dude.

"Work it, baby. Work it."
nga.gov

So, everyone knows (I think) they can learn from their own mistakes. You can also learn from extremely well-documented ex-leaders' mistakes, as well. Hitler probably could have won if he had studied more Napoleon. You are not familiar with this concept possibly because you have written them both off.

 "They were Bad Dudes, and we beat them. Who cares? Let's stop talking about it, you twisted mofo."

"Okay, you know why Hitler lost, right?"

"WHY ARE YOU SO OBSESSED WITH HITLER?!"

"Hitler attempted to fight a war on two fronts, one of the fronts being Russia, a country with a notoriously large population, dangerously close to winter, for which Russia is also notorious. Now, if Hitler hadn't written off the mistakes of the losers before him, we wouldn't be having this conversation. We'd be eating sausages--because Hitler loved sausages. No, he was not a vegetarian. Vegetarians are not evil--and cleaning the gas chambers. Actually, you might not be, but I would, because I am German, and therefore superior."

"NAZI! I knew it!!"

".....shit."

One common theme you may notice, in our brief studies of Hitler and Napoleon, is that they ARE people who wrote off HBDs, too. At least some HBDs did their homework. Napolean, a military strategy genius, was an expert on many HBDs and their campaigns. Did it help him in the end? No. Hitler was familiar with Napolean, just waved him off as a loser and thought he could do better, as did Napoleon with most of his knowledge when he saw his goal getting near. There is a word for this. It's called arrogance. And everyone knows what happens after that...eventually you do something stupid that history would clearly tell you can't be done. 'Somebody else already tried this, and let's talk about what happened to them. I don't think you're going to like it.' And you completely justify all of your means and ideas, even if it's a really bad idea and some bad shit, because you are so clouded by you own damn arrogance and desire to prove that you can.

So, why do you scare me, HBD-hater?
1) you're arrogant, and will likely make mistakes around me. Maybe big ones.
2) you likely have no respect for the ideas of others, and therefore, little respect for anything, I'm guessing.
3) you don't understand the value learning from the mistakes of others, so you may also be incapable of learning from your own damn mistakes, too.
4) you don't understand the value of familiarizing yourself with the past, because it WILL repeat itself. Therefore....
5) You have no idea how to recognize future HBDs....

Rick Perry, dallasobserver.com

The good news is, you can change! Being educated is a choice. History is an acquired taste for some, and there are some prerequisites (reading helps). But I have loads of Hitler books, Nixon books, Napoleon books, a Stalin book somewhere, and more than one copy of "The Art of War".

If you have an HBD crush, I am seriously wiggling in anticipation in my seat. Please comment, and I will know that I do not need to fear you.


Fakewords: #'Merica (I'm not taking credit for that), #Elizabeths, #Henrys, #HBDs, #mofo

What your favorite sport says about you

Football--You like commercials.

Basketball--Damn, it feels good to be a gangsta...

Hockey--You are loud, angry, and want to see someone die. If you can't be personally responsible for it, then you will "calmly" eat nachos and drink beer while you let a Canadian with a really long stick and blades on his feet do the work.

Golf--Wow...does that ridiculously huge Rolex on your arm make it harder to swing your golf clubs? Can you accurately play with those Oakley's on? Aren't you worried your Beamer will get dinged by a bad stroke in the Country Club parking lot? Yeah, we get it, you're rich.

Yes, hold my rod and show everyone how big this thing is....
www.whatsonxiamen.com

Fishing--You love dick. You are obsessed with penis. Look, I'm going to be honest, there was a long thought process that led me to this analyzation, and I don't think you want in my head so I cut out the middle man. I will tell you it went something like this: You like playing with a rod quietly in the dark. You enjoy telling everyone how large that slimy, wriggly thing is....you get it.

Nascar--You need an excuse to drink and socialize on Sundays when that commercial one is not in season. And you can NOT borrow my car.

Soccer--Congratulations! You are not American! Or you probably shouldn't be. If you are, now's about time to move out of the country. It's for your own good. 

Baseball--Um....don't have much to say here. You really love sports. Why the fuck else would someone sit through two hundred games of undetermined length? It's just a bit overwhelming if you're not really into it. And it's like five hundred years old. Geez.

Let me know if I missed your favorite sport, and I will totally make fun of you.

Fakewords: #Beamer, #analyzation, #Nascar (ha!), #Geez

Red Solo Cup

Alright. So you know them. You may even be them. That person who literally only has pictures of themselves on social media that involve partying.

It astounds me, and I giggle inside and do that little 'Oh, I am so much better than that' head shake when I look up old friends and their only facebook pictures involve long-necks, red cups and ping pong balls.

Let's make fun of all the other types of pictures first, just to bring things into a bit of perspective. First there are the people who have albums and albums and thousands upon thousands of pictures of someone who has been on the planet for less than three years. Yes, do the math. I am talking about babies. While it is subsequent to proclaiming that you have very little else going on, I think most people would agree that, whether or not you want to do it yourself, it's a pretty freaking big deal to add a new person to the world. So they have an excuse. And you can discern the nature of one's current life situation if you haven't seen them in eight years and then BAM! Eight thousand pictures of a little ball of fat skin rolling around on an overpriced, monogrammed play mat.

Same damn thing with pets. And I am not going to undermine the pet parents at all here. Once upon a time, I scoffed--as I am scoffing at other people now--SCOFFED, I tell you, at the Denver yuppies who doted on their Poodles and Germans and Vislas like they were children. Scoffage. Well, I will state right here and now that I was wrong. My scoffage was baseless and unjust, and I apologize to those I scoffed at, although I do most of my scoffing in my mind, or in the shower, so they didn't know.

Here is why I was wrong: PUPPIES ARE FREAKIN' HARD! Yes, I said it. And yes, I am yelling in cyber land. I have kept a human alive on this planet for three years now. No big deal, right? But can I house train a puppy? HELL NO! Most animals are like that. The level of care is mind-numbing, and definitely on the same level as having a child, so you may as well spoil and brag about the damn thing because you're putting in about the same work as the mother with the eight-hundred-thousand pictures of her two month old.

Cats are a different story. Cats are badasses who could survive on their own, but choose to be lazy and make us do all the work. They have telepathically discovered our human weakness for all things fluffy, and they exploit this knowledge to gain entry to our shelters and manipulate us into feeding them. Real Housecats of Miami is what that shit is. So if you happen to own a cat, this in turn makes you a) a slave, and b) a person with awesome taste in animals, so post those cat pictures with pride!

Wedding pictures: This is probably the most important thing to happen to this person, and it probably cost them a ton of freakin' money, which I guess can be justifiable, as long as you have shit tons of pictures to remember it by/prove it happened. By looking at these pictures I can see 'alright, this person is starting a life with another person, yada yada yada.' It's cool. Not saying you have to get married to start your life, so don't yell at me. Just saying--this is an obvious marker for cyber-stalkers (which is everyone at some point, don't shake your head at me) to see where their frenemy from high school, who was really pretty but then got chubby in college and you always secretly knew she'd never get a better job than you, is in her life right now.

Work pictures: You love your job. You have a job! Congratulations. Or all of your pictures of you are job-related because you spend all your time at your job. I really have nothing to make fun of here. Jobs are cool, and I love to hear about people's jobs. I like to know what other people do for a living and how they feel about it. Nobody on this planet will ever get to experience everything without the help of some serious alien mind-melding, so if you can live vicariously through people's facebook albums about their life as a professional dancer, or photographer, or superhero, or running a dude ranch, do it. I'm for cereal right now. You all know that you had a list of at least ten careers you wanted when you were younger, and you are now in one that likely wasn't even on your list until you were twenty. Shit, that got depressing real fast. Let's get back on track.

So you are doing the creep, because facebook pretty much wants you to when they flash that little sidebar  that says "Lookie who I found.....all of your friends are friends with them....oh, it's your ex? Well, cool, I'll let you decide how to handle that, but you should at least look at their pictures just to see what they've been up to for ten years." So you listen to facebook, and you look at the pictures, and every single picture of your ex, or former best friend, or high school crush, involves a party.

At first you are thinking, "Cool looking party." Then "Wow, Sherlock* (*names changed for stalker protection) likes to party."

"Sherlock* really likes to party."

"All Sherlock* does is party!"

"How old is Sherlock*?" ....... "How old am I?"

You do the math, and Sherlock* should definitely have a wider variety of photos by this point in his life, right? Trust me, I am not propagating some perfect, picket-fence way of life here. That's the government's job. I am just saying I may lose a few crumbs of respect for you if you are a third of the way through your life and all you've done and all you like to do is pound cheap beer on the weekends and come up with shweet nicknames for your group of drinking buddies (no, not individual nicknames, nicknames are badass--I'm talking coming up with a team name for partying and I probably just gave a few people some ideas of what to do this weekend).

Not like you need my respect. Not like you even want it. Obviously, you have descended to a point of 'fuck what other people think' when you begin scouring joke shops for matching costumes you and your buddies can wear for your beer pong tournament on Saturday. And then you find them and you wear them and you take pictures and you proudly post them on social media networks. You have literally given your whole life the middle finger. You'd rather post pics of you and "The A-Team" in matching penis-outfits and strobe light hats, looking totally out of your tree with a bottle of Boone's farm in each hand than post a picture of your significant other, your family, your pets, your latest work gathering, vacation, whatever. And you obviously don't care if your current or future employer sees it.

To the world of social media, which is basically the world as you know it, if all or a majority of your pictures are of one type of activity, you have pronounced that as THE ONLY THING YOU DO. This is your portfolio, people. Diversify, lest your ex-girlfriend start spreading rumors that your sexuality is in question because you are still throwing Tom Cruise-themed cabana parties seemingly once a month.

Well, there you have it. My first little 'make fun of everything' rant. Soooooo glad I don't have pictures like that all over my facebook....

Shut up.


Fakewords: #facebook, #BAM!, #Vislas (wtf, vislas are totally real), #scoffage, #badasses, #freakin', #frenemy, #Housecats, #Lookie, #shweet