And the Jews Stand Behind It!

I had an awesome e-mail show up in my spam filter today.

From: Hightower Ezra
Subject: They are lying you every day

Вы все людишки - глупые животные, которые ради денег готовы на все. Вас ежедневно унижают сильные мира сего, а вы этого не замечаете и думаете, что выбираете.

I'd like to show you the web-site about financial pyramid! Take a look, how people get dumbed by System. And the jews stand behind it! Look!! It's true!!!

http://piramidam.net/

Not That There’s Anything Wrong With That

Setting: a dual occupant bachelor pad. Dave is sitting on a couch, intently playing a video game. Behind him Rob enters from outside.

Dave: (Not bothering to look away from his game) Hey, Dude. How was the movie?

Rob: (Distracted) It was—it was okay. Creepy.

Dave: Creepy, huh? Not scary?

Rob: No.

Dave: (Finally looks back) Did the hot chick at least live?

Rob: Naw.

Dave: Bummer. (Returns to game.)

Rob, still seeming a bit out of it, makes his way over to the couch and sits next to Dave.

Dave: (Still playing) So, uh, how’s it going?

Rob: Fine. It’s going fine.

Dave: And, how’s Jeff doing?

Rob: Well, he’s, uh, he’s doing good.

Dave: You don’t sound too sure.

Rob: No. He’s fine. He’s doing just fine. He’s do–Is Jeff gay?

Dave: (Finally turns his attention away from the game.) What?

Rob: Jeff. Is he, you know, gay?

Dave: I don’t know. Why?

Rob: No reason. Forget I asked. ‘Night.

Rob gets up to leave.

Dave: Whoa. You do not come home and ask if the dude you went to see a movie alone with is gay and then go to bed. Sit.

Rob sits back down.

Dave: What happened? Why do you think Jeff’s gay? Did he hit on you or something?

Rob: No. He just…it was just a bit weird, and—Look I don’t want to make a big deal out of this.

Dave: Weird how?

Rob: I don’t know. The whole situation was weird. You remember the barbecue we had last month that he came to?

Dave: Yeah. Sharon brought him. They’re friends. He tags along with her sometimes.

Rob: Right. And when he was over here, he asked for my e-mail address. He said that maybe we could hang out, and I said sure and gave it to him. And then he e-mailed me with his phone number, and I gave him my phone number. And then he called me yesterday about the free movie tickets he’d won and wanted to know if I’d like to hang out.

Dave: Sounds harmless. Maybe he just wants to be friends.

Rob: And maybe “hook up” is some kind of gay code word that means go out on a date.

Dave: I think you’re being paranoid. I mean, did he flirt with you at all?

Rob: That’s just it. I don’t know. I can’t even tell if a girl is flirting with me, let alone if a guy is. As far as I can tell, no one has ever flirted with me in my entire life, and that just doesn’t seem statistically possible, does it? I mean, a girl has had to have flirted with me by now, right?

Dave: I guess so. Look, why don’t we just call Sharon. She’s friends with him. She’d know.

Rob: No.

Dave: Why not?

Rob: Because she’d tell him. She’s better friends with him then with us, and she would totally tell him. And then if he’s not gay, it will be this big thing, and he’ll get upset, and Sharon’ll get upset, and then there will be all this drama.

Dave: Dude, he won’t get upset.

Rob: Really? If someone called up Alice or Erik or even me and asked if you were gay, and you found out about it, how would you feel?

Dave: Point taken. (Sits thinking for a moment.) Okay, so let’s dissect what happened tonight and see if it was a date or not. Did he pay for your ticket?

Rob: Yes and no. He won them, remember?

Dave: Right. Well, did he get you any popcorn or anything?

Rob: No.

Dave: Good. Good. And who picked where you sat?

Rob: I did. He insisted that I pick the seat.

Dave: Huh. Did you go anywhere after the movie? Grab a bite to eat maybe?

Rob: No. He asked if I wanted to, but I said that I ate before I got there.

Dave: And did you talk outside of the theater for long.

Rob: No…(reluctantly) but he did walk me to my car.

Dave: He what?

Rob: (Slowly, shamefully) Walked with me to my car.

Dave: How far?

Rob: Two blocks...in the opposite direction of his car.

Dave: And what did he say when he was walking with you to your car?

Rob: We just talked about the movie.

Dave: And what happened when you got to the car?

Rob: Nothing. I just said goodnight, got in my car and left.

Dave: He didn’t try to kiss you?

Rob: No. I think that I would know if he was gay if he tried to kiss me. He just said it was fun and that I should give him a call if I’m not busy, and then he left…(Again, reluctantly) and then he texted me on the drive home…twice.

Dave: (Sits, thinking for a moment.) I don’t know, dude. That’s a whole bunch of mixed signals. He’s either gay, or he is really awkward around other guys.

Rob: Worse than me?

Dave: Totally.

Rob: Great, so either I just went out on a gay date or I met someone more socially incompetent than I am. I don’t know whether to laugh or cry.

Dave: Ah, don’t worry about it. It’s not a big deal.

Rob: But that’s just it. It is a big deal. Do you know how many women I’ve gone out with in my life? Two. That’s less than one a decade. If that was a gay date, that means that 33 percent of my dating career has been with a guy. I can’t even get chicks to be interested in me, and now for some reason I’ve got guys digging me.

Dave: Maybe you’re gay, dude. (Laughs)

Rob: No, laugh. Make it a joke. But that’s just it -- maybe I am gay. I don’t seem to be having any luck with the women, so maybe that’s because I’m not supposed to be. I mean, I’m not really all that masculine. I suck at sports – I don’t even like watching them. I don’t go hunting or shoot guns. I don’t know anything about cars. I’ve never been in a fight, and I don’t drink beer. What kind of a man am I?

Dave: Do you need a hug?...but not a gay one?

Rob: Laugh all you want, but my guyness is in crisis here. (Puts head in hands.) I just don’t know who I am anymore.

Dave: Alright, alright. Calm down. Dude, you’re just not the kind of guy that they make beer commercials about, but you’re still a guy. So you don’t fit the mold exactly, who does? Look, you think that you might be gay, right?

Rob: Yeah.

Dave: Well then here’s a simple test – have you ever been attracted to another guy?

Rob: (Thinks a moment.) No.

Dave: And who would you rather date, Natalie Portman or Keira Knightley?

Rob: Can’t I date them both?

Dave: See? You’re not gay. You’re just a wimp – there’s a difference…and that difference is liking other men's penises. (Shooing Rob away) Now go to bed and dream of beautiful women and you’re inadequacies.

Rob gets up and walks toward his bedroom.

Rob: Thanks, man.

Dave: Don’t mention it. It’s what bros do.

Take This Interweb and Shove It

For the past several months I have been boycotting the Internet to pay it back for the wrongs that it has propagated against me (and by boycott I mean exclusively using it to download porn, gamble and stalk victims...I mean girlfriends...and I don't mean stalk, I mean...um...talk to?). Where was I? Oh yes, I was wronged - by the Internet no less. You see, I had been participating in this whole Web 2.0 fad, blogging and myspacing and the like. I had also begun to use twitter, posting my witty comments in 140 characters or less.

Well in addition to my more "traditional" Twitter usage, I had also been using it for a more "creative" exercise. I had been maintaining a Twitter presence under the guise of Victor von Doom, monarch of Latveria, viewing my daily experiences through his eyes. The idea had come to me after I had completed this blog entry, where I reviewed the second Fantastic Four movie from his perspective. I rather enjoyed shrouding myself in the voice of Dr. Doom, and quickly abandoned posting anything to my Venting Plasma account in favor of VonDoom.

Unfortunately, last summer, Marvel apparently became aware of Twitter and began employing it for guerrilla marketing...mainly to prevent the rise of communist marketing in South America. After they had established a couple of Skrull-themed twitter accounts to promote their Secret Invasion event, they apparently became aware of my account, and I was promptly served with the online equivalent of a cease and desist order. I was told that I was in violation of the Terms of Use, both committing copyright infringement and impersonation. And the name of my twitter account was changed to VonDoom Fan, which was pretty lame. (Of course, I should probably be happy that they didn't change it to something really crappy like I'm Super Gay for Dr. Doom...of course, now that you mention it, that might be fun to write...oh you did so mention it. We all heard you. Why must you always lie, you lying harlot? I hate you! You always ruin everything!)

Where was I? Oh yes, VonDoom Fan. Well that ID is pretty lame and undermines everything I was trying to do with the account, and I refuse to have my artistic vision compromised. So I stopped posting to VonDoom...Fan.

Now since I am a hardcore Marvel fanboy and unwilling to show any anger toward the big M, I chose to take out my frustration on the World Wide Web. I decided that I would no longer participate in the Internet until I feel it had been sufficiently chagrined for this affront, and so I began a self-imposed exile that I am now lifting.

Yes, you may enjoy me once again.

That's sexual harassment training, and I do have to take it.

Admittedly, I'm a little slow getting this out, but my employer forced me (along with the rest of the company) to take an online sexual harassment course back in March. I learned a lot from those three to four hours, and I feel the need to share what I picked up:

- I like to spell harassment with two “r”s.

- I know how to properly respond if I see a black coworker being harassed by a transgendered employee. If I see a white coworker being sexually harassed, I am obviously dreaming and should immediately start thinking about Natalie Portman and Keira Knightley.

- My company cares a lot about making sure that I am protected from sexual harassment. In fact, they care so much that they went out and found a poorly-structured online course to handle the topic, pushed back the deadline to take the course to keep from interfering with people’s Q1 goals and dumbed down the test at the end of the course because enough people weren’t passing.

- I don't understand that the phrase "back away" means that the person backing away is moving more than two steps. Two steps back or less means that they are standing still…or perhaps moving forward.

- I can't comprehend the difference between color and nationality.

- I can get away with randomly rubbing women's shoulders, at least for a while.

- Sabotaging an employee’s work is a tangible employment action but not retaliation.

- If I ever ask a coworker out, I better pray to God that she accepts or I've just harassed her.

- There is an apparent plague of white male employees looking females "up and down." And sometimes they do this “slowly.”

- Sexual harassment is always perpetrated by a white male...at least whenever it is captured on video.

- Unwarranted tickling is a gray area that has not yet been covered.

- Watching videos discussing sexual harassment could be considered subtle, third-party harassment if observed by others.

- Indian people apparently have very fake-sounding Indian accents.

- If a coworker uses the word "retaliate" in a conversation with you, you are fracked.

- Old white men are lecherous, while old black men are distinguished, skilled at their jobs and good at coaching conversations away from sexual harassment.

- If the answer to a multiple choice question is a) and you select a), you are still wrong. (I believe this only applies if you are white and have a penis.)


As you can see above, the third text box on the right corresponded with the "a" word balloon, not the "a" word balloon as I thought it did.

New Blog Over On The Mind Blender

This one is all about the new found likeability of Tony Stark...

http://themindblender.blogspot.com/2008/05/thank-you-jon-favreau-for-letting-me.html

The Harvest

Last weekend, I was lucky enough to have my appendix removed. As this was my first foray under the knife, I was surprised at my lack of apprehension. However, I do have to admit that there were a couple of news articles that I had read in the past few weeks that were milling about the nether regions of my consciousness. (Note: The nether regions can be found to the left of the german regions and immediately above the belgian regions.)

I do not think it necessary to transcribe the entire articles, since their titles offer a fair summary of their contents. The two news items that gave me pause were:

Monitors Don't Stop 30,000 Americans From Waking During Surgery Each Year

and

Woman Goes for Leg Operation, Gets New Anus Instead

Based on these articles, I think I should have probably been a little more concerned.


As a side note, I just wanted to point out an advertisement that I saw next to the "anus" article. It...it gave me pause.

Hmmm...I now wonder if my vagina was depressed and there was nothing wrong with my appendix...

The Mile High City Just Joined the Mile High Club

In the local cable television market, there have been a number of advertisements for a new night club that is intended to cater to a more "refined" crowd. Featuring the same background music as the "I'm a Mac, and I'm a PC" spots (or the even cooler "I'm a Marvel, and I'm a DC" spots), these commercials primarily focus on contrast. The crux of these ads is to differentiate between the shallow, obnoxious clientele that can be found in most of the city's night life and the "refined" patrons of this new club.

Now, I can't say in particular why I decided to check out the Web site for this "refined" establishment - if I recall, I was merely curious to find out how far from downtown this un-downtown-like club was...the answer being not very. However, while browsing this site, I ran across some very interesting information about the "refinement" of this club.

This highly cultivated speakeasy prides itself on its "cocktail chefs" who are experts in the "art of the Cocktail." And the location boasts to being "second to none in Denver for socializing, entertaining, schmoozing, or just watching a game with your close friends." The establishment is, in fact, so "refined" that it features a strict dress code that ensures I will never be allowed to enter unless someone else has dressed me.

Now I know what you're thinking - it's the same thing I was thinking - this sounds like a really classy place. (I mean, if I was going to have another Sweet 16 party, I would totally host it there.) But imagine my surprise when I finally read the most "refining" aspect of this club that has been so well "refined" (I sure seem to be using that word a lot). I offer you the following:

"We cater to couples on Saturday. The mass majority of those couples tend to be Denver swingers or couples that have an open mind and are looking to meet other couples who are at least curious about aspects of the Denver "lifestyle". This does not mean that everyone who attends is looking to have sex with other couples! While most of the couples that attend have had experiences with other couples or single women, many couples just come to enjoy the fun atmosphere we provide and encourage. It's sexy, fun, very classy and tasteful. If you’re curious about the Denver lifestyle or Denver swinger scene, Sugar House is the perfect place to explore those curiosities. Each weekend we see new couples coming in who are merely curious or interested to see what the Denver swinger scene is all about."

Apparently "refined" is a code word for having lots of freaky sex, and apparently the "Denver lifestyle" means having a tasteful threeway...or fourway...which could explain why so many Californians have moved here. (They like the freaky sex... not that there's anything wrong with that...in fact, I hope that when I die, it's while I'm refining my Denver lifestyle - if you know what I mean....I mean that I want to die while I'm having lots of freaky sex...with supermodels...plural).

UPDATE: Just thought of the phrase "tasteful threeway" and couldn't let it go to waste.

Steve Jobs, I want you inside me...meaning I want to channel your presentation skills...what did you think I meant?...pervert

While I am a professional writer, a wordsmythe if you will, I do on frequent occasion have to host meetings and even give presentations. In fact, most of the writers I work with also find it necessary to present (typically presentations as well), so a colleague forwarded this article around the office. Now, this article (from a professional business magazine no less) could be summarized - "Steve Jobs is the world's bestest presenter ever, and we should all want to really, really be like him a lot because he is so awesome and handsome and smart."

To say, as a coworker of mine did, that this reporter was "gushing" would be a severe understatement. The arterial spray in Kill Bill is "gushing." The oil in There Will Be Blood is "gushing." (Oddly enough the blood in There Will Be Blood only kind of pooled). This article involved a much higher fluid release to time ratio than mere gushing. This was, in my humble opinion, a poorly veiled love letter to Steve Jobs.

Now, as I mentioned earlier, I am a writer, and as a writer, I just happen to know a few editors. And these editors know other editors who happen to know other editors who may or may not have been able to get me an early draft of this article, which now follows:

Deliver a Presentation like Steve Jobs, the man I LOVE with all My Heart

1. Set the tone. Hi Steve, I know that the judge told me to stop calling you and that I'm not allowed to go on your property anymore. But I need to talk to you, so I'm writing you this letter. I know that you didn't mean all of those terrible things that your lawyer made you say about me, and I just want you to know that I'm not upset with you.

2. Demonstrate enthusiasm. I really hope that we can work this out because we would be good together. You know it, and I know it. We would be such a great team! I just care about you so much, and I would never let anyone hurt you or take you away from me!

3. Provide an outline. If you would just meet me like I've been asking, I know that we could make this work. It would just be dinner at the Olive Garden and maybe drinks afterwards. We could do it this Thursday. I know that your daughter's soccer game was cancelled, and your babysitter is free - I checked for you.

4. Make numbers meaningful. I've thought about how much I love you 400 million times since the iPhone was launched. That's 20,000 times a day, on average.

5. Try for an unforgettable moment. Why do you make me like this? Why? All I want to do is love you, and you always push me away. It makes me crazy. You can be a real bitch sometimes.

6. Create visual slides. I'll [censored]* your [censored] [censored] [censored] and then you can [censored] [censored] [censored] all over my [censored]. Then I'll take my finger and [censored] [censored] [censored] [censored] [censored] [censored] [censored] with a crowbar.

7. Give ’em a show. WHORE! YOU WHORE! I WILL KILL YOU, YOU F@CKING WHORE!

8. Don’t sweat the small stuff. I'm sorry, Baby. I'm so sorry, but you make me so crazy sometimes. You know I love you, right? It's ok. It's ok. We'll make it work. You still love me, right?

9. Sell the benefit. We'd be so good together. I'd take care of you. We could grow old together, just the two of us. And if you got sick, I would make you chicken soup and kiss your forehead when you had a fever. Face it, Steve. Nobody knows you like I do, and nobody could ever love you like I do.

10. Rehearse, rehearse, rehearse. I'm guessing that you just haven't got my other letters because the post office is so slow. I bet if you were in charge of them, everything would get done so much faster. Hee-hee. Anyway, I'll just assume that you want to do that Olive Garden thing this Thursday, so I'll pick you up at your place. I know you moved, but don't worry, I have your new address.

With all my love,
Carmine Gallo

*Edited by Venting Plasma

Don't. You'll be de-rezzed.

There have been some, shall we say "changes," at my employer recently, so I now have a new boss. This new boss happens to have a, shall we say "relationship," with one of my former supervisors...let's call him "Lumbergh." Anyway, after a classy e-mail from my new boss saying that she was pleased to have me on her team, "Lumbergh" chose to respond with this:

"Warning: I never wanted to burden you with my problems, but Josh is actually criminally insane and has had a contract out of my life for years. You can expect similar treatment as his new manager. Fortunately, the contract is placed with a comic book hit man, so until "The Deathhammer" figures out how to make the transition from animation to tangible being, we're both safe."

I felt the need to reply:

"You've apparently never seen Tron...Don't worry, when my alliance with the Master Control Program is finalized, you'll be the first to tremble before the power of digitization."

Needless to say, I'm expecting new "changes" from my boss in the near future.

A Call to Arms

While I have covered a broad range of subjects with this blog, I have rarely commented upon the political arena. However, I find the need to speak out now. I am not attempting to sway anyone's personal opinion. I believe that one's political beliefs are a matter that should be determined by the individual...that is assuming that the individual is basing their decisions upon the Holy Scriptures and has engaged in the necessary amount of preliminary prayer and fasting...and I'm not talking about that half-day fasting crap that the Muslims do during Ramadan...and by praying I mean to the one true God and not to some false one.

No, my intent is not to persuade, but only to make an observation. As you all may well know, we are in the midst of presidential primaries, so all manner of candidates have been vying for our attention and affection over the past few months. As time has passed, these candidates have dwindled, with John McCain becoming the frontrunner for the Republican nomination and the Democratic nomination narrowing down to Hillary Clinton and Barack Obama.

Now, I may not be a political pundit, but I've been known to watch Fox News and MSNBC (especially when they're running a marathon of "To Catch a Predator" episodes), so I think that I'm fairly savvy when it comes to the political landscape. Imagine my surprise, then, when I stumbled upon an interesting news item that the major news organizations are ignoring.

It all started when a coworker showed me this story. To summarize the article was discussing a new 527 organization that is dedicated to "educat[ing] the American public about what Hillary Clinton is."




Now, I may not be a rocket surgeon, but I did get an A+ in my college Logic class, so let me drop some knowledge on you. Let's first start with the question, "What is Hillary Clinton?" Well, the obvious answer is "a U.S. Senator trying to obtain the presidential nomination for the Democratic party." So essentially this organization was founded to tell people that Hillary Clinton is a U.S. Senator trying to obtain the presidential nomination for the Democratic party. Assuming that this organization was founded to actually serve a purpose, then it stands to reason that there are people out there who do not know that Hillary Clinton is a U.S. Senator trying to obtain the presidential nomination for the Democratic party.

All in all, this does not bode well for Mrs. Clinton. She's been the wife of a U.S. President. She's a high-profile U.S. Senator that isn't from some worthless fly-over state. She has had her name in the running from the beginning, and yet, she still is an unknown.

Now, I'm not saying that I'm endorsing her as a candidate, but this blog will go so far as to say that if Mrs. Clinton is going to get her shot at the White House, her supporters really need to get the word out about what she is. So I would suggest that they consider contributing to this organization...maybe even by one of their t-shirts.

I'm just saying.