I was with a group of people in an enclosed place. They felt like coworkers.
Over a radio or PA system, a man sounded desperate as he called for help.
He was trapped in a building with many children. They couldn't get out. And the building was on fire.
He was calmly yet anxiously asking for help. Any firemen or emergency crews were needed. Ambulances, anything would help. Please send help.
I looked around my group of people.
None of them were doing anything but looking in the direction of the man's voice... there must have been a radio that I couldn't see. They were all staring at it. None of them looked around or talked to each other. None of them moved or did anything. I was a little baffled.
The man came over the radio to tell us things were getting worse. The fire was growing and the children were starting to get scared. He, again, asked for firemen. But this time he asked for cops or teachers, or even people from neighboring businesses to help them. It was getting hot.
Nobody where I worked did anything. Nobody looked at anyone.
The man came back on the radio, and said that they really needed help. Any help at all.
I got up and went to go help.
I went to Best Buy. I, obviously, needed the right music to play as I pulled out children and the man from the fire. I also needed some tense music to play as I actually went into the fire, and then some hero music to play as we emerged from the fire. But I was also feeling the pressure to make sure that I didn't waste too much time picking out music, because I really needed to get over there. I decided I was going to continue wearing my sweatpants and my Croc shoes, and after spending a few minutes with my iPod and not being able to find the right music, I just clicked one of the stereos in the store to play a radio station, and ran out of the store towards the fire.
The fire was taking place in one of the buildings on the campus of the college where my mother used to teach. I texted the man (I guess I knew his phone number) to tell me where they were. He told me to look for the smoke. Duh. Of course. I started running. And it was much further away than I thought it was going to be. There would be no way anyone would hear my music or the radio station I was playing for them and their rescue. Crap. Well, I guess I would know for next time.
As I got closer, the smoke really started to get thick. I could actually smell it. I could actually feel it constricting my lungs and making breath difficult. I could feel my chest getting hotter. I also started to notice small pieces of fire littering the street where there were no cars. And these patches of burning started to become pretty regular patches. But I kept running towards the fire. Before I could actually see the fire, the street started filling up with a lot of patches of fire, so I was having to hop around them so that my sweatpants didn't catch on fire. But soon there were too many patches of fire on the street for me to continue running at the rate I was running. I tried to slow down my run, but I couldn't. It was like somebody was pushing me, even though nobody was behind me. I continued to run at the same fast speed, and the fiery street started burning more and more, and I started to step on the fire. I could actually feel the fire burn my legs under my pants, and I could feel the bumps and heat on my feet from the burning street.
I awoke in a panic.
Friday, May 1, 2015
Thursday, April 30, 2015
Lookin' On The Bright Side!! :)
Wanna know what?
I'm gonna stay positive!
Yeah!
No crap's gonna sully these wings, boy!
I'm gonna focus on the positive!
Hooray!
I'm gonna ignore my life and stare at the sun! Cuz the sun is good!
Yippie!
I'm going to push it down and squish it in my pits, cuz nobody wants to be around a gloomy gus! :(
No way, Gloomy Gus! You get on outta here!
We're not gonna listen to how you got screwed at the auto mechanic, and how you once had enough money to take care of yourself, but after your car broke down, you can't take care of yourself for another 5 months, and that's only if you don't spend your money on anything else! And we're not going to listen to how you're going to have this job for the rest of your life! And how you're going to play it safe and move to Oregon with this job you currently have and hate! We're not going to listen to how you're going to move to Salem so you won't have to commute and how you'll get to live in a place you don't wanna live in to do a job you don't wanna do in order to ... what, exactly? We're not really sure, but we're not gonna listen to you, Gus!
Fuck off, Gloomy Gus! Cuz you don't belong here anymore!
We don't want you around, with your frowns and homicidal ideations about killing people and how good it would feel. And how messed up everybody is and how there needs to be some kind of violent change in order to right the wrongs that continue and continue and continue and bullying cannot be placated any more, and killings cannot be placated anymore, and getting screwed cannot be placated anymore, and fighting back is what you do when there are no more choices. We don't need that kind of stinkin' thinkin' 'round here, Gussy!
Get outta here, Gus!
Cuz the clouds are good, and the sun is good, and, by golly, people like me!!
Yay for Life!
I'm gonna stay positive!
Yeah!
No crap's gonna sully these wings, boy!
I'm gonna focus on the positive!
Hooray!
I'm gonna ignore my life and stare at the sun! Cuz the sun is good!
Yippie!
I'm going to push it down and squish it in my pits, cuz nobody wants to be around a gloomy gus! :(
No way, Gloomy Gus! You get on outta here!
We're not gonna listen to how you got screwed at the auto mechanic, and how you once had enough money to take care of yourself, but after your car broke down, you can't take care of yourself for another 5 months, and that's only if you don't spend your money on anything else! And we're not going to listen to how you're going to have this job for the rest of your life! And how you're going to play it safe and move to Oregon with this job you currently have and hate! We're not going to listen to how you're going to move to Salem so you won't have to commute and how you'll get to live in a place you don't wanna live in to do a job you don't wanna do in order to ... what, exactly? We're not really sure, but we're not gonna listen to you, Gus!
Fuck off, Gloomy Gus! Cuz you don't belong here anymore!
We don't want you around, with your frowns and homicidal ideations about killing people and how good it would feel. And how messed up everybody is and how there needs to be some kind of violent change in order to right the wrongs that continue and continue and continue and bullying cannot be placated any more, and killings cannot be placated anymore, and getting screwed cannot be placated anymore, and fighting back is what you do when there are no more choices. We don't need that kind of stinkin' thinkin' 'round here, Gussy!
Get outta here, Gus!
Cuz the clouds are good, and the sun is good, and, by golly, people like me!!
Yay for Life!
Wednesday, April 29, 2015
Do You Wonder?
The Town was on the top of the hill.
Brad lived in a house that had a front door facing South.
Greg lived in another house that had a front door facing North.
At the bottom of the hill was a bar.
Every day, Brad and Greg left their homes about the same time and went to the bar.
Brad left his house through his front door and went down the hill on the south side.
Brad didn't think about his path to the bar very much.
It was paved, kinda smooth, and he could think about a lot of different things while he walked.
He could hear the birds. He could smell the flowers. He could see the sun.
Life was pretty sweet.
Greg left his house through his front door and went down the hill on the north side.
The north side of the hill had no path, but instead had sharp rocks which often pierced through Greg's shoes as he walked. There wasn't much rain on the north side, so a lot of dust was kicked up into the air. Greg sneezed because of this dust often. Buzzards were known to fly overhead, waiting for things to die on the north side. Their screeches were chilling to hear, and made Greg wonder if they were going to eat him. But they never did.
Eventually, both men made it to the bar.
Both men agreed, it was good at the bar.
Brad usually said that life was pretty good.
Greg usually said that life was pretty hard.
The bartender usually told Greg to look on the bright side like Brad.
And Greg tried, but he just didn't understand how it was so easy for Brad to see things so differently.
"I guess I'm just a fuck up," Greg often thought.
I wonder if this, somehow, has any relevance in today's world?
Maybe with racial tensions?
Maybe with police and the families of those who have been killed by police?
Maybe with people who have money for air conditioning, and those who have money for macaroni and cheese?
I wonder.
Do you?
Brad lived in a house that had a front door facing South.
Greg lived in another house that had a front door facing North.
At the bottom of the hill was a bar.
Every day, Brad and Greg left their homes about the same time and went to the bar.
Brad left his house through his front door and went down the hill on the south side.
Brad didn't think about his path to the bar very much.
It was paved, kinda smooth, and he could think about a lot of different things while he walked.
He could hear the birds. He could smell the flowers. He could see the sun.
Life was pretty sweet.
Greg left his house through his front door and went down the hill on the north side.
The north side of the hill had no path, but instead had sharp rocks which often pierced through Greg's shoes as he walked. There wasn't much rain on the north side, so a lot of dust was kicked up into the air. Greg sneezed because of this dust often. Buzzards were known to fly overhead, waiting for things to die on the north side. Their screeches were chilling to hear, and made Greg wonder if they were going to eat him. But they never did.
Eventually, both men made it to the bar.
Both men agreed, it was good at the bar.
Brad usually said that life was pretty good.
Greg usually said that life was pretty hard.
The bartender usually told Greg to look on the bright side like Brad.
And Greg tried, but he just didn't understand how it was so easy for Brad to see things so differently.
"I guess I'm just a fuck up," Greg often thought.
I wonder if this, somehow, has any relevance in today's world?
Maybe with racial tensions?
Maybe with police and the families of those who have been killed by police?
Maybe with people who have money for air conditioning, and those who have money for macaroni and cheese?
I wonder.
Do you?
Misguided and Accountable?
Baltimore Mayor Rawlings-Blake made a statement about those rioting in Baltimore.
My sentiments to those same young people: if you want to be misguided and supported without being held accountable for your actions, just grow up and join law enforcement.
"That night we saw misguided young people who need to be held accountable, but who also need support."http://www.cnn.com/2015/04/29/us/baltimore-riots-thug-n-word/
My sentiments to those same young people: if you want to be misguided and supported without being held accountable for your actions, just grow up and join law enforcement.
Recent IM at work
The following is a conversation I had with a co-worker over IM just now.
HIM: You keepin up on ur cases okay? How that friend of yours doin? I think his name is [last name of one of my old work friends].
ME: I'm always struggling to keep up with caseloads. i feel like that's never going to change, and it's kinda depressing. last time i heard from that [co-worker] kid he was visiting detroit and was sending me pictures of my old stomping grounds, but i haven't really talked with him in a while.
HIM: Case management is an evil beast. I seriouslllllllly don't know why they have to be so cruel to y'all. Detroit is not a safe place to be right now [surprised face emoticon]
ME: what makes you say that about detroit?
HIM: I meant Baltimore. Ooooooooops [surprised face emoticon]
ME: haha! i thought that's what you might have meant [smiley face emoticon]
HIM: I just don't understand those people. I wonder how many of them are receiving federal assistance. Threaten to cut them off and I bet they would stay home!!!!!!!!!
ME: that's a pretty big blanket you're throwing over the situation, and i don't think it's a fair assessment
HIM: That is very true. Thank you for that.
ME: [smiley face emoticon]
HIM: I knew I liked you for some reason [big smiley face emoticon]
ME: also, i may remind you of santa claus when i laugh
HIM: Santaaaaaaaaaaaaa
I know him [smiley face emoticon]
End of IM.
I don't identify with most of the people I work with or live next to. I need to get out of this cesspool of a state.
HIM: You keepin up on ur cases okay? How that friend of yours doin? I think his name is [last name of one of my old work friends].
ME: I'm always struggling to keep up with caseloads. i feel like that's never going to change, and it's kinda depressing. last time i heard from that [co-worker] kid he was visiting detroit and was sending me pictures of my old stomping grounds, but i haven't really talked with him in a while.
HIM: Case management is an evil beast. I seriouslllllllly don't know why they have to be so cruel to y'all. Detroit is not a safe place to be right now [surprised face emoticon]
ME: what makes you say that about detroit?
HIM: I meant Baltimore. Ooooooooops [surprised face emoticon]
ME: haha! i thought that's what you might have meant [smiley face emoticon]
HIM: I just don't understand those people. I wonder how many of them are receiving federal assistance. Threaten to cut them off and I bet they would stay home!!!!!!!!!
ME: that's a pretty big blanket you're throwing over the situation, and i don't think it's a fair assessment
HIM: That is very true. Thank you for that.
ME: [smiley face emoticon]
HIM: I knew I liked you for some reason [big smiley face emoticon]
ME: also, i may remind you of santa claus when i laugh
HIM: Santaaaaaaaaaaaaa
I know him [smiley face emoticon]
End of IM.
I don't identify with most of the people I work with or live next to. I need to get out of this cesspool of a state.
Tuesday, April 28, 2015
The Dead Don't Debate
If one person decides he is going to hit the other, you can't stop him. He has made his decision.
If a man decides to abuse his wife, he's going to. You can't stop him. You can only impose consequences afterwards.
In other words, you can't stop people from violence if that's what they have decided.
You can influence them before they make the decision.
You can enforce consequences after they take action.
But you can't really stop the action.
Sure, you could stand by the person and wait until they raise their hand and then stop the hand from striking. But that's not practical. That cannot happen.
I feel education concerning violence in human behavior should be required in schools.
I feel education concerning all human behavior should be required in schools.
I don't feel like there is any real required education regarding human behavior.
There is sex ed, but that seems to focus more on the sexual function of humans and the abstinance from sexual behavior, rather than why humans need sex, go without sex, make the choices they do regarding sex, etc.
Do we ever learn why we behave the way we do?
Are we ever given that kind of information or insight?
I don't think I was... was I?
Reading about Baltimore feels like a broken record.
There is a person.
Police get involved.
That person is no longer with us.
And then the people in the real world react to the loss of life, while the people on the internet spew hatred, mostly aimed at blaming the dead person and a set of hypothetical circumstances, along with misinformation, speculation, and a heaping dose of annonymity.
His hoodie was to blame.
His upbringing was to blame.
The drugs he had taken at one time were to blame.
He shouldn't have run.
He shouldn't have stayed still.
He shouldn't have been black.
He should have done something he didn't do.
And, more often than not, the internet turns on Obama.
Jeez, why did Obama have to start the race riots? Before he got here, everything was fine and everybody got along. Now we're more divided than ever!
And often, the internet will blame the people who "get free stuff".
I often read angry posts from people complaining about those who "get free stuff".
The free-loaders. Those who take advantage of the system. Those we need to get rid of so that we can make a decent society for all of us... except those taking advantage of the system.
And I wonder why the angry poster, complaining of those getting free things, doesn't get free things, too.
I've gone to carnivals where t-shirts were being thrown at a crowd. I didn't get a free t-shirt because one wasn't thrown close enough to me. I've gone to baseball games where pop flies were hit into the stands, but not near where I was sitting.
But that doesn't really apply here, it seems. Free thngs aren't being thrown. They're being taken by... the takers.
Why don't the people who are angry just become takers?
What's preventing them from taking?
Do they know how to take?
Do they even know what's being taken?
Or is it just easier to reduce it to People Who Get Free Stuff?
When we do that, though, we don't have to think about what's really happening.
I'd like to make a movie.
Just get the Republican/Right Wing view point out there.
As clearly as it can be put forward.
I want to solicit people who post in forums on the internet.
And I want them to tell me, without judgement from me sitting there talking with them.
I want them to tell me who are the takers.
What are they taking.
Why aren't you taking.
What are the problems.
What are your solutions for those problems?
Because, right now, the problems are always blamed on the dead.
And the dead don't debate.
If a man decides to abuse his wife, he's going to. You can't stop him. You can only impose consequences afterwards.
In other words, you can't stop people from violence if that's what they have decided.
You can influence them before they make the decision.
You can enforce consequences after they take action.
But you can't really stop the action.
Sure, you could stand by the person and wait until they raise their hand and then stop the hand from striking. But that's not practical. That cannot happen.
I feel education concerning violence in human behavior should be required in schools.
I feel education concerning all human behavior should be required in schools.
I don't feel like there is any real required education regarding human behavior.
There is sex ed, but that seems to focus more on the sexual function of humans and the abstinance from sexual behavior, rather than why humans need sex, go without sex, make the choices they do regarding sex, etc.
Do we ever learn why we behave the way we do?
Are we ever given that kind of information or insight?
I don't think I was... was I?
Reading about Baltimore feels like a broken record.
There is a person.
Police get involved.
That person is no longer with us.
And then the people in the real world react to the loss of life, while the people on the internet spew hatred, mostly aimed at blaming the dead person and a set of hypothetical circumstances, along with misinformation, speculation, and a heaping dose of annonymity.
His hoodie was to blame.
His upbringing was to blame.
The drugs he had taken at one time were to blame.
He shouldn't have run.
He shouldn't have stayed still.
He shouldn't have been black.
He should have done something he didn't do.
And, more often than not, the internet turns on Obama.
Jeez, why did Obama have to start the race riots? Before he got here, everything was fine and everybody got along. Now we're more divided than ever!
And often, the internet will blame the people who "get free stuff".
I often read angry posts from people complaining about those who "get free stuff".
The free-loaders. Those who take advantage of the system. Those we need to get rid of so that we can make a decent society for all of us... except those taking advantage of the system.
And I wonder why the angry poster, complaining of those getting free things, doesn't get free things, too.
I've gone to carnivals where t-shirts were being thrown at a crowd. I didn't get a free t-shirt because one wasn't thrown close enough to me. I've gone to baseball games where pop flies were hit into the stands, but not near where I was sitting.
But that doesn't really apply here, it seems. Free thngs aren't being thrown. They're being taken by... the takers.
Why don't the people who are angry just become takers?
What's preventing them from taking?
Do they know how to take?
Do they even know what's being taken?
Or is it just easier to reduce it to People Who Get Free Stuff?
When we do that, though, we don't have to think about what's really happening.
I'd like to make a movie.
Just get the Republican/Right Wing view point out there.
As clearly as it can be put forward.
I want to solicit people who post in forums on the internet.
And I want them to tell me, without judgement from me sitting there talking with them.
I want them to tell me who are the takers.
What are they taking.
Why aren't you taking.
What are the problems.
What are your solutions for those problems?
Because, right now, the problems are always blamed on the dead.
And the dead don't debate.
My Reviews
RON'S AUTOMOTIVE
My car broke down on the side of the highway. I got it off the road, and after some phone calls, I was on the phone with Ron's Automotive. My wife and I (mostly me) had grown tired of paying the dealership to fix our cars at outrageous prices, and we had been trying to find a good mechanic for a long time (mostly me). My wife's boss suggested Ron's Automotive, and because she's a great person and has helped us in the past, we went with Ron's.
The problem with my car was difficult to even describe. I was traveling down the freeway, then I suddenly lost power to my car and was only able to travel about 10-15 MPH, without any kind of acceleration when I pushed on the gas. As far as I could tell, I hadn't done anything to cause this (almost) complete loss of power. After pulling off onto the shoulder, the car died and didn't want to start again. There was only a slight hint of black smoke at one point, and I couldn't identify where it was coming from. There was also a hint of electrical burning, nothing overpowering, and on the freeway like I was, I couldn't even guarantee it was my car. After hearing this, the guy on the phone with me at Ron's sounded like he knew what was going on, but told me that he would have to look at the car to know for sure. They were closed on the weekends, and since this had happened on Friday, I wouldn't know what was going on with the car until Monday at the earliest. The man on the phone at Ron's was helpful and sounded nice. I anticipated a good experience with Ron's.
Monday came and Ron's called. Seems there was nothing they could find wrong with my car. Seriously. Nothing. The best they could do was see that my cam shaft sensors had gone off twice, indicating something was wrong with my cam shaft, twice. But since my car doesn't have a computer, it doesn't record failings like newer cars, so they were unable to tell exactly what the problem was. And since the car was now running fine, they could only guess at what might fix the problem. The Phone Man asked if my timing belt had been replaced, and I told him it hadn't (my 2001 Honda Civic hasn't had any kind of major surgery on it of any kind... I've only had to take it in for routine oil changes... no belts broken, no brake pads, no nothing... and after 14 years, I'd say it was ready for some major stuff, so I was okay with that, and even more brand-loyal to Honda than ever before). Phone Man told me that he felt sure it was the timing belt, and told me some symptoms of timing belt failures, all of which matched what had happened to me. He told me that my best bet was to get my timing belt changed, which would also include a new water pump, and then get my spark plugs changed, and that might fix the problem. Once he had "gotten in there", though, he might find that my cam shaft needed fixing, too, and that wouldn't be something he would know for sure until he started the repair. He told me that the repair without the cam shaft kit would be $1000, and with the cam shaft kit, it would be about $1100. I asked him what the price would be after giving me the My Wife's Boss Recommended Ron's Automotive discount, and he laughed and told me the same prices. Ass. Whatev. After talking with my wife for some time, my wife wanted me to see what they would charge to see what was wrong with my air conditioning, and we should go ahead and plan on having them fix the car. We had thought about taking the car elsewhere. We thought about buying another car. We thought about selling my car and becoming a one-car family. We thought pretty hard about spending $1000, because we don't have that kind of money. But we finally decided that we would take about a month to pay off the car, and then take about two and a half months to replace the money we had spent. All told, we would take about 4 months to recover from this repair, but it was the best we felt we could do. We would come up with the money somehow, and we would make it work, because we didn't have much choice. I called back Ron's and told them who I was, and the Phone Man pulled up my info and quoted the price back to me-- $1100. I asked how much they could charge me to see what was wrong with my air conditioner, and he said they wouldn't charge me anything. He would flush the system, fill me up with Freon, and check for leaks and all of it would cost me $1100, and that included my towing. Okay, go ahead and do that. But please, I told Phone Man, don't spend any more than that on this repair without consulting me first. He assured me he wouldn't. I told him that I had just been promoted, and with my promotional pay, I would be able to pay them in about two weeks, so "take your time" I joked, because I wouldn't be able to come get the car for about two weeks. He understood, and told me it wouldn't be a problem or cost me any extra for the car to stay with them until I got the money together in about two weeks.
I wasn't completely turned off by Ron's Automotive.
Then I discovered that my promotion pay wasn't coming through at the end of the month, like my wife and I planned, and we kinda freaked out a second. Lots of things were riding on that money coming through, and we figured since I had been told about the promotion on April 2nd that would be enough time for the changes to take affect and we would get the money at the end of the month. But no, this is government work, which means it doesn't work. After many phone calls and emails and people beginning conversations with me by saying "I'm sorry...", I discovered my promotion wasn't official until April 22nd, and my promotional pay wouldn't arrive until May 12th, and that would only be pro-rated for April, and I wouldn't get my full promotional pay until the end of May. This put a pucker in my asshole. After speaking with my wife, we decided to call Ron's Automotive and see if they had started the repair yet, and if they hadn't, we would stop the repair. I called Ron's Automotive.
"Hi, I wanted to see if you guys had started working on my car yet."
"Oh, yes sir. The repair is completed."
What?? Fuck-a-doodle-doo.
"Oh. It's already completed. That's surprising."
"We try to be efficient," said Phone Man.
"It's still okay just sitting with you guys, right?"
"Absolutely, sir."
"Okay. Can you tell me what the final price tag is on that repair?"
"Absolutely, sir. It's $1,234."
What the fucking fuck?!
"Wow. Okay. Well, I'll see about putting my money together."
"You can save $21 by paying in cash."
"Okay, goodbye."
I didn't give a fuck about the $21, and I didn't ask, because I wouldn't be paying in cash. Ron's could kiss my whole asshole at that moment. Cuz I felt fucked as hell.
I told my wife about it. She felt fucked as hell.
It was more money than they told us it was going to be, by about $100. Bot of us figured that was for the air conditioning repair, but felt cheated that they said it wasn't going to cost us more, and then cost us more.
Once again, my wife and I felt like we had been fucked by The System, and we were just going to have to eat shit like we have become accustomed to. When They System fucks you, you gotta eat shit. When you fight The System, you get raped and eat more shit. When you stand up for yourself against The System, you get caned, raped with a mule, force fed the mule's shit as well as your own shit, and are forced to watch a bald man break kitten necks. It's a fun lesson we've learned over the past 7 years. Portland will change that all.... But I digress.
***Some Important Things Happened At This Point In The Chronology. To See What Happened, Please Keep Reading***
I walked into Ron's Automotive, ready to get my car.
"Hello, I'm here to get my rad 2001 Honda Civic."
"$1,234," said Counter Man, and stared at me.
I'm accustomed to my Detroit mechanic, The Absolute Best Mechanic On The Planet, Sam Zamit. You would bring in your car, and he would look at it, then call you up, tell you what was wrong with it, and then give you options as to how to fix it. He knew I was always low on funds, so his options for me were usually start with the street-legal, recommended repair, and then finish with the not-quite-street-legal repair that he could do with a tomato soup can and a screw, and it wouldn't be as solid a repair as I might like, but it would save me a lot of money. Typically, I went that route. By the time I left Detroit, Sam had done so many quality repairs I was driving a Honda Rubber Washer with wads of gum for tires, and I was perfectly happy doing so. And when I went to pick up my Millennium Falcon car from Sam, he would always run down what he had done on the car, tell me what the price could've been had I done the other repair and that I should think about doing that in the future and THEN AND ONLY THEN would he quote me the price on the repair he had actually done. What a guy, that Sam Zamit. If you ever, EVER need a mechanic in Detroit, go to Sam. He is the superior mechanic of all mechanics.
Ron's Automotive was not Sam Zamit.
"$1,234," said Counter Man, and then he stared at me.
I stared back.
"You wanna tell me what you did on it?" I asked with eyes that clearly were saying Eat My Shit, Fuckstain.
Counter Man sighed. It wasn't an I'm Tired sigh. It was God, You're Making Me Work And I'm A Useless Piece Of Shit sigh.
Counter Man turned his computer monitor so that I could see it.
Ever seen a spreadsheet somebody else has been working on for several hours that you aren't familiar with?
It's sorta like being wrapped up in a blanket. You can see the light. It is definitely there, but you're not quite sure how to get out of the blanket. And you know you can get out of the blanket if you just push a little more, squirm a little harder. And after quite a bit of work, you're still under the blanket, but you're pretty sure you can make out the light through the pores in the blanket.
Counter Man turned his computer monitor so that I could see it.
It was a spreadsheet somebody had been working on for hours without familiarizing me with it.
I was wrapped in a shitty blanket as he started verbalizing what they had done.
Of course, he wasn't pointing to the spreadsheet, which would have helped me know where to look. He was just reading the spreadsheet.
"Why don't you just speak to me in Sanskrit," I thought to myself, and then I laughed at how funny I still was despite not working in comedy for almost 3 years, plus I really don't know what the hell he's talking about-- what the fuck is a cam shaft anyway? You're giving *me* the cam shaft, fucker (another laugh, damn dude, you can take the whore outta the city, or whatever that expression is... I've still got it...)-- and then I felt stupid that I had tuned out of the Counter Man's meaningless speech to me about the repairs that he had done in favor of jokes about a dead language, a city, and anus sex for money I had only made to myself. Well, at least *I* think I'm funny.
[brackets will indicate sarcasm]
Part of the blanket fell away from my head, and I was actually able to see.
There was a 5% discount noted.
"What's that?" I asked, pointing to the screen.
"Ummmmm..." said Counter Man, [articulately].
Pause. We both stared at the screen.
"Looks like a discount," I said, hoping that would jar Counter Man into some kind of communication.
"Uh, yeah," Counter Man [countered. He was a quick one].
"Why would you give me a discount?" I asked kindly.
"I... uhhhh..." Counter Man [masterfully enunciated each syllable of every letter that flowed out of his gorgeous, Adonis-like lips. He was truly Art In Motion].
Pause. [Art needs time to breathe].
Pause. [Art picked his tooth with his tongue, which made me horny for him more so than I had ever felt for another man before in my life].
"Maybe it's a discount that you guys gave me because of the My Wife's Boss Recommended You Guys To Me discount?" I suggested.
Counter Man farted. He looked at me.
{the previous line didn't actually happen, but it should have... I'm going to use these curly brackets to indicate when something didn't happen, but should have... what are they called? Curly brackets? One of my teachers used to call them Bob Hopes, because they looked like Bob Hope's profile to her... I dunno, she was drunk or something... maybe they're actually called Bob Hopes, what do I know. Ima use them for things that didn't happen but shoulda...}
"I'll take it, whatever it is," I told Counter Man, who laughed, relieved not to have to come up with words to tell me his neck was melting into his thighs.
I paid Counter Man.
He took my money and started to walk off.
"Is my car out there," I asked Counter Man, pointing vaguely to the parking lot covered in the torrential downpour that had been happening all day.
"Yeah, it's out there," said Counter Man. [And with that, a host of Heavenly Angels entered the mechanic shop and whisked Counter Man to God's Crotch, for a Creature as lovely as Counter Man shouldn't have to endure the torture of Earth. God's Crotch is a nice, warm, quiet place where beautiful creatures are cultivated]
***Hey, side note... Does God have a crotch? We're created in His image, right? So what does His crotch look like? Penis? Balls? Vagina? Hermaphrodite? Does he get jock itch if he works out without showering after? Does he use Gold Bond Medicated Powder? I do. It's great for sweaty balls. Back to my review of Ron's Automotive***
I found my car, got into it, and was glad that it started. I turned on the air conditioner, which seemed to work, but the outside temperature was about 65 below zero, so it was going to be difficult to determine if the air conditioner actually worked. I started to pull out, and immediately noticed that my steering was out. Yeah, my power steering was completely gone.
I drove to Walmart, bought power steering fluid, filled my power steering reservoir, and fixed the problem.
Bottom Line: My car runs well, and my experience with Ron's Automotive getting it back to that place was lacking. A lot. Ron's Automotive can suck a huge pile of greasy elephant dicks (thank you, wife, for that lovely image, it fits perfectly).
SECOND REVIEW
MY MOTHER
My mother read my blog where I talked about my car breaking down.
She texted me and asked about my car.
I told her bullet points of what was going down.
She asked how much it was going to cost.
I told her.
{Then my Mother pulled out her cowl and cape and donned them as she had done so many times before. It was a great red and black number. Not ostentatious. Very tactical looking. Made her easily identifiable when you were actually able to see her, but also cloaked her movements well in the still of the night, while bad guys are plotting and fixing cars.
She pulled out a double handful of greasy elephant dicks in each hand and jumped out the window.
Evil Mechanics ganged up on her. She beat them all with greasy elephant dicks.
Whap! Thunk!
Dicks greasily slapped mechanic cheeks as they each felt the justice of a life wasted.
Plunk! Plap!
Mechanics flew to the side as Mother flapped each one with a handful of greasy elephant dicks.
And when all the Evil Mechanics had died after being beaten by greasy, greasy, sloppy elephant dicks, Mother beat the people at the bank.
Mercilessly jumped on top of each person at the bank and bludgeoned them to a fine, bloody mist with her elephant dick maces! Each bank person died knowing only shame that they hadn't lived a better life, as well as the remorse of not wearing greasy elephant dick armor to work that day!
Bloof! Bramf!!
People flew!
Blood splattered!
Elephant Dicks!!
Yeargh!!!
And when it was all done, Mother strutted up to the Master Computer.
"Do it," she growled at Master Computer.
And Master Computer knew what she wanted. And did it.
And then Master Computer pissed itself.}
Then she texted back, "I transferred enough money to get your car repaired. Happy birthday!"
And she never mentioned anything about her double handful of weaponized elephant dicks.
Bottom Line: I can't thank my mom enough for rescuing me and (probably) my family from this latest mess I got myself into. She went beyond a birthday gift. I am lucky to have her as my mother. I really hope that I can be more like her the more I live. She's a great mom, a great human, and gave me a super great birthday gift. Thank you so much, mom. You get the best review. :)
My car broke down on the side of the highway. I got it off the road, and after some phone calls, I was on the phone with Ron's Automotive. My wife and I (mostly me) had grown tired of paying the dealership to fix our cars at outrageous prices, and we had been trying to find a good mechanic for a long time (mostly me). My wife's boss suggested Ron's Automotive, and because she's a great person and has helped us in the past, we went with Ron's.
The problem with my car was difficult to even describe. I was traveling down the freeway, then I suddenly lost power to my car and was only able to travel about 10-15 MPH, without any kind of acceleration when I pushed on the gas. As far as I could tell, I hadn't done anything to cause this (almost) complete loss of power. After pulling off onto the shoulder, the car died and didn't want to start again. There was only a slight hint of black smoke at one point, and I couldn't identify where it was coming from. There was also a hint of electrical burning, nothing overpowering, and on the freeway like I was, I couldn't even guarantee it was my car. After hearing this, the guy on the phone with me at Ron's sounded like he knew what was going on, but told me that he would have to look at the car to know for sure. They were closed on the weekends, and since this had happened on Friday, I wouldn't know what was going on with the car until Monday at the earliest. The man on the phone at Ron's was helpful and sounded nice. I anticipated a good experience with Ron's.
Monday came and Ron's called. Seems there was nothing they could find wrong with my car. Seriously. Nothing. The best they could do was see that my cam shaft sensors had gone off twice, indicating something was wrong with my cam shaft, twice. But since my car doesn't have a computer, it doesn't record failings like newer cars, so they were unable to tell exactly what the problem was. And since the car was now running fine, they could only guess at what might fix the problem. The Phone Man asked if my timing belt had been replaced, and I told him it hadn't (my 2001 Honda Civic hasn't had any kind of major surgery on it of any kind... I've only had to take it in for routine oil changes... no belts broken, no brake pads, no nothing... and after 14 years, I'd say it was ready for some major stuff, so I was okay with that, and even more brand-loyal to Honda than ever before). Phone Man told me that he felt sure it was the timing belt, and told me some symptoms of timing belt failures, all of which matched what had happened to me. He told me that my best bet was to get my timing belt changed, which would also include a new water pump, and then get my spark plugs changed, and that might fix the problem. Once he had "gotten in there", though, he might find that my cam shaft needed fixing, too, and that wouldn't be something he would know for sure until he started the repair. He told me that the repair without the cam shaft kit would be $1000, and with the cam shaft kit, it would be about $1100. I asked him what the price would be after giving me the My Wife's Boss Recommended Ron's Automotive discount, and he laughed and told me the same prices. Ass. Whatev. After talking with my wife for some time, my wife wanted me to see what they would charge to see what was wrong with my air conditioning, and we should go ahead and plan on having them fix the car. We had thought about taking the car elsewhere. We thought about buying another car. We thought about selling my car and becoming a one-car family. We thought pretty hard about spending $1000, because we don't have that kind of money. But we finally decided that we would take about a month to pay off the car, and then take about two and a half months to replace the money we had spent. All told, we would take about 4 months to recover from this repair, but it was the best we felt we could do. We would come up with the money somehow, and we would make it work, because we didn't have much choice. I called back Ron's and told them who I was, and the Phone Man pulled up my info and quoted the price back to me-- $1100. I asked how much they could charge me to see what was wrong with my air conditioner, and he said they wouldn't charge me anything. He would flush the system, fill me up with Freon, and check for leaks and all of it would cost me $1100, and that included my towing. Okay, go ahead and do that. But please, I told Phone Man, don't spend any more than that on this repair without consulting me first. He assured me he wouldn't. I told him that I had just been promoted, and with my promotional pay, I would be able to pay them in about two weeks, so "take your time" I joked, because I wouldn't be able to come get the car for about two weeks. He understood, and told me it wouldn't be a problem or cost me any extra for the car to stay with them until I got the money together in about two weeks.
I wasn't completely turned off by Ron's Automotive.
Then I discovered that my promotion pay wasn't coming through at the end of the month, like my wife and I planned, and we kinda freaked out a second. Lots of things were riding on that money coming through, and we figured since I had been told about the promotion on April 2nd that would be enough time for the changes to take affect and we would get the money at the end of the month. But no, this is government work, which means it doesn't work. After many phone calls and emails and people beginning conversations with me by saying "I'm sorry...", I discovered my promotion wasn't official until April 22nd, and my promotional pay wouldn't arrive until May 12th, and that would only be pro-rated for April, and I wouldn't get my full promotional pay until the end of May. This put a pucker in my asshole. After speaking with my wife, we decided to call Ron's Automotive and see if they had started the repair yet, and if they hadn't, we would stop the repair. I called Ron's Automotive.
"Hi, I wanted to see if you guys had started working on my car yet."
"Oh, yes sir. The repair is completed."
What?? Fuck-a-doodle-doo.
"Oh. It's already completed. That's surprising."
"We try to be efficient," said Phone Man.
"It's still okay just sitting with you guys, right?"
"Absolutely, sir."
"Okay. Can you tell me what the final price tag is on that repair?"
"Absolutely, sir. It's $1,234."
What the fucking fuck?!
"Wow. Okay. Well, I'll see about putting my money together."
"You can save $21 by paying in cash."
"Okay, goodbye."
I didn't give a fuck about the $21, and I didn't ask, because I wouldn't be paying in cash. Ron's could kiss my whole asshole at that moment. Cuz I felt fucked as hell.
I told my wife about it. She felt fucked as hell.
It was more money than they told us it was going to be, by about $100. Bot of us figured that was for the air conditioning repair, but felt cheated that they said it wasn't going to cost us more, and then cost us more.
Once again, my wife and I felt like we had been fucked by The System, and we were just going to have to eat shit like we have become accustomed to. When They System fucks you, you gotta eat shit. When you fight The System, you get raped and eat more shit. When you stand up for yourself against The System, you get caned, raped with a mule, force fed the mule's shit as well as your own shit, and are forced to watch a bald man break kitten necks. It's a fun lesson we've learned over the past 7 years. Portland will change that all.... But I digress.
***Some Important Things Happened At This Point In The Chronology. To See What Happened, Please Keep Reading***
I walked into Ron's Automotive, ready to get my car.
"Hello, I'm here to get my rad 2001 Honda Civic."
"$1,234," said Counter Man, and stared at me.
I'm accustomed to my Detroit mechanic, The Absolute Best Mechanic On The Planet, Sam Zamit. You would bring in your car, and he would look at it, then call you up, tell you what was wrong with it, and then give you options as to how to fix it. He knew I was always low on funds, so his options for me were usually start with the street-legal, recommended repair, and then finish with the not-quite-street-legal repair that he could do with a tomato soup can and a screw, and it wouldn't be as solid a repair as I might like, but it would save me a lot of money. Typically, I went that route. By the time I left Detroit, Sam had done so many quality repairs I was driving a Honda Rubber Washer with wads of gum for tires, and I was perfectly happy doing so. And when I went to pick up my Millennium Falcon car from Sam, he would always run down what he had done on the car, tell me what the price could've been had I done the other repair and that I should think about doing that in the future and THEN AND ONLY THEN would he quote me the price on the repair he had actually done. What a guy, that Sam Zamit. If you ever, EVER need a mechanic in Detroit, go to Sam. He is the superior mechanic of all mechanics.
Ron's Automotive was not Sam Zamit.
"$1,234," said Counter Man, and then he stared at me.
I stared back.
"You wanna tell me what you did on it?" I asked with eyes that clearly were saying Eat My Shit, Fuckstain.
Counter Man sighed. It wasn't an I'm Tired sigh. It was God, You're Making Me Work And I'm A Useless Piece Of Shit sigh.
Counter Man turned his computer monitor so that I could see it.
Ever seen a spreadsheet somebody else has been working on for several hours that you aren't familiar with?
It's sorta like being wrapped up in a blanket. You can see the light. It is definitely there, but you're not quite sure how to get out of the blanket. And you know you can get out of the blanket if you just push a little more, squirm a little harder. And after quite a bit of work, you're still under the blanket, but you're pretty sure you can make out the light through the pores in the blanket.
Counter Man turned his computer monitor so that I could see it.
It was a spreadsheet somebody had been working on for hours without familiarizing me with it.
I was wrapped in a shitty blanket as he started verbalizing what they had done.
Of course, he wasn't pointing to the spreadsheet, which would have helped me know where to look. He was just reading the spreadsheet.
"Why don't you just speak to me in Sanskrit," I thought to myself, and then I laughed at how funny I still was despite not working in comedy for almost 3 years, plus I really don't know what the hell he's talking about-- what the fuck is a cam shaft anyway? You're giving *me* the cam shaft, fucker (another laugh, damn dude, you can take the whore outta the city, or whatever that expression is... I've still got it...)-- and then I felt stupid that I had tuned out of the Counter Man's meaningless speech to me about the repairs that he had done in favor of jokes about a dead language, a city, and anus sex for money I had only made to myself. Well, at least *I* think I'm funny.
[brackets will indicate sarcasm]
Part of the blanket fell away from my head, and I was actually able to see.
There was a 5% discount noted.
"What's that?" I asked, pointing to the screen.
"Ummmmm..." said Counter Man, [articulately].
Pause. We both stared at the screen.
"Looks like a discount," I said, hoping that would jar Counter Man into some kind of communication.
"Uh, yeah," Counter Man [countered. He was a quick one].
"Why would you give me a discount?" I asked kindly.
"I... uhhhh..." Counter Man [masterfully enunciated each syllable of every letter that flowed out of his gorgeous, Adonis-like lips. He was truly Art In Motion].
Pause. [Art needs time to breathe].
Pause. [Art picked his tooth with his tongue, which made me horny for him more so than I had ever felt for another man before in my life].
"Maybe it's a discount that you guys gave me because of the My Wife's Boss Recommended You Guys To Me discount?" I suggested.
Counter Man farted. He looked at me.
{the previous line didn't actually happen, but it should have... I'm going to use these curly brackets to indicate when something didn't happen, but should have... what are they called? Curly brackets? One of my teachers used to call them Bob Hopes, because they looked like Bob Hope's profile to her... I dunno, she was drunk or something... maybe they're actually called Bob Hopes, what do I know. Ima use them for things that didn't happen but shoulda...}
"I'll take it, whatever it is," I told Counter Man, who laughed, relieved not to have to come up with words to tell me his neck was melting into his thighs.
I paid Counter Man.
He took my money and started to walk off.
"Is my car out there," I asked Counter Man, pointing vaguely to the parking lot covered in the torrential downpour that had been happening all day.
"Yeah, it's out there," said Counter Man. [And with that, a host of Heavenly Angels entered the mechanic shop and whisked Counter Man to God's Crotch, for a Creature as lovely as Counter Man shouldn't have to endure the torture of Earth. God's Crotch is a nice, warm, quiet place where beautiful creatures are cultivated]
***Hey, side note... Does God have a crotch? We're created in His image, right? So what does His crotch look like? Penis? Balls? Vagina? Hermaphrodite? Does he get jock itch if he works out without showering after? Does he use Gold Bond Medicated Powder? I do. It's great for sweaty balls. Back to my review of Ron's Automotive***
I found my car, got into it, and was glad that it started. I turned on the air conditioner, which seemed to work, but the outside temperature was about 65 below zero, so it was going to be difficult to determine if the air conditioner actually worked. I started to pull out, and immediately noticed that my steering was out. Yeah, my power steering was completely gone.
I drove to Walmart, bought power steering fluid, filled my power steering reservoir, and fixed the problem.
Bottom Line: My car runs well, and my experience with Ron's Automotive getting it back to that place was lacking. A lot. Ron's Automotive can suck a huge pile of greasy elephant dicks (thank you, wife, for that lovely image, it fits perfectly).
SECOND REVIEW
MY MOTHER
My mother read my blog where I talked about my car breaking down.
She texted me and asked about my car.
I told her bullet points of what was going down.
She asked how much it was going to cost.
I told her.
{Then my Mother pulled out her cowl and cape and donned them as she had done so many times before. It was a great red and black number. Not ostentatious. Very tactical looking. Made her easily identifiable when you were actually able to see her, but also cloaked her movements well in the still of the night, while bad guys are plotting and fixing cars.
She pulled out a double handful of greasy elephant dicks in each hand and jumped out the window.
Evil Mechanics ganged up on her. She beat them all with greasy elephant dicks.
Whap! Thunk!
Dicks greasily slapped mechanic cheeks as they each felt the justice of a life wasted.
Plunk! Plap!
Mechanics flew to the side as Mother flapped each one with a handful of greasy elephant dicks.
And when all the Evil Mechanics had died after being beaten by greasy, greasy, sloppy elephant dicks, Mother beat the people at the bank.
Mercilessly jumped on top of each person at the bank and bludgeoned them to a fine, bloody mist with her elephant dick maces! Each bank person died knowing only shame that they hadn't lived a better life, as well as the remorse of not wearing greasy elephant dick armor to work that day!
Bloof! Bramf!!
People flew!
Blood splattered!
Elephant Dicks!!
Yeargh!!!
And when it was all done, Mother strutted up to the Master Computer.
"Do it," she growled at Master Computer.
And Master Computer knew what she wanted. And did it.
And then Master Computer pissed itself.}
Then she texted back, "I transferred enough money to get your car repaired. Happy birthday!"
And she never mentioned anything about her double handful of weaponized elephant dicks.
Bottom Line: I can't thank my mom enough for rescuing me and (probably) my family from this latest mess I got myself into. She went beyond a birthday gift. I am lucky to have her as my mother. I really hope that I can be more like her the more I live. She's a great mom, a great human, and gave me a super great birthday gift. Thank you so much, mom. You get the best review. :)
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