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Things I like


Actually, I think that whole meme sucks, but I hate backspacing and editing so we'll just all have to deal with the fact that this is now the things maddad hates post.

I hate the New York Times commercial where the effeminate male says, "they have the best journolists in the world and there's no debating that." Why? Because he's so believable. You know that this asshole doesn't debate anything because he thinks he's so damn smart. I'd like my foot to debate his ass, except that I'm pretty sure I'd lose a shoe.

I hate airplanes. I hate people who slow to a near stop to make a right turn. I hate that every computer related gadget blog on the innertubes has turned into an Apple fanboy page. I hate that every consumer electronics maker in the world thinks you've got an extra $60 a month for a subscription service. I really hate that people pay it. I hate not being able to buy booze on Sunday, which is when you have to buy booze, because you finished it all off on Saturday night.

I hate "full service" hotels that make you pay for everything, that's the opposite of "full service" dickheads, "full service" means everything is taken care of, like at the Super8. The cheaper the hotel, the more service I get. Better TV, free Internet, free breakfast, the gym is empty and the hookers cheap. At a "real" hotel I'm paying extra for web access, parking, body removal and breakfast. Last time they didn't even lie to the police for me. That sucks. I hate the big hotels.

I hate poeple who say they like all music except for Country. That's bullshit. If pressed they'll tell you they like Johnny Cash, which is also bullshit. They don't like Johnny Cash. They bought those two shitty albumns where he covers shitty Depeche Mode songs because the fucking Onion AV club said they were a "must have", and to be cool, you have to follow the crowd. Hey, there's a lot of Country that sucks, and you know what? Johnny Cash sang a bunch of it. I hate the shit on radio too, but I really hate all the chicks screaming at me. Seriously chicks, is that any way to get a man? Sing a nice song about birds or happy days and shit instead of bitching about your man or telling everyone how much your vagina itches. I also hate hip-hop. You heard me. Now fuck you.

I hate "green". Knock it off, I like it hot.

I hate peple who think I should worry about a comet or asteroid hitting the planet and killing us all. Exactly what the hell am I supposed to do about it? Assholes.

I hate people who want to tell me what I can do with my own damn money. If I have more money than you, I can get nicer stuff. That includes cars, houses, clothes, lawyers and doctors. I work for my money, I'll spend it how I want. If I can afford to fix my limp or have my taint tightened, I will. Even if I have to go to Cuba to do it.

God I hate the fucking TV news.

I hate guys who shave their heads and grow a Van dyke. If you're bald be bald. You look like a pussy with that beard. Literally.

I hate Woodstock. You know what, a buch of assholes crashed a party fourty years ago. Some snooty bitch wrote a song about it. So the fuck what. I went to some killer parties when I was a kid too.

I hate the Kennedys, the Clintons, the Jacksons, the Windsors, Megan Fox (not really), the Real Housewives of anywhere, and anyone who cries on TV. I hate people who don't believe in God but don't admit it. I hate people who do believe in God and talk about nothing else. I hate people who think "The Piano" is a better movie than "Roadhouse". It's not. I hate the "Planet Earth" TV show.

I hate people who post song lyrics on internet message boards. Seriously, have you ever won a face to face argument by singing "Won't Get Fooled Again"? I didn't think so. I also hate quotes. Anywhere. I could be watching a documentary on the history of the merkin and Glenn Close will voiceover some sepia-tinged Civil War era postcard picture, "Mah de-uh suh, It's been three months since ah took the cure for mah afliction, yet ah steel-uh feel th' barnin' in mah nethus as if you jest let mah pah-lah. Paw has tol meh thet ah weel nev-ah be alone with you again unless ah can prove mah virtue an' you yer good intentions. Ah wish you would send meh a sign of your affection consisting of one heart-shaped pudendum wig so thet Paw shall nevuh become awares of cure which your undiluted and somewhat grimeh passion imposed on meh to take. - Teddy Roosevelt" Oh it irritates me to no end.

There's a lot more hate in me, but I'm beginning to hate typing, and it Friday, so I'm quitting while I'm ahead - Ghandi

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I'll steal one from Jeff G, since he's still out enjoying life ...


And talk back to some eighties music:

"You're not entirely correct, dearie. It doesn't change everything. It's the porchload of kids that throw everything outta wack. I know you all just want to have fun, but think about the mixed messages you're sending our nations youth. Well, maybe not the youth, but at least think about the poor shlubs who have to listen to you in the waiting room. Especially when it's the orthodontist and every one of that porchload of kids could eat corn on the cob through a picket fence."

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Passengers describe 'nightmare' six-hour ground delay ... again!

OK, on Friday night I was in an airplane sitting on the tarmac at Dulles from 4:30 to 9:10 pm. They brought the plane back to the gate at 9:10, took us all off and "re-routed us" without cancelling the flight. In other words, they "delayed" the flight until 9:30 am the next morning. Was I pissed? Hell yes! Did I bitch and moan? A little, mostly to myself. Did I understand why we were delayed? Yes, I did. Why was that?

I had a window seat.

There was a big motherfucking storm going on. Lots of lightning. High winds. Pretty easy to see why we were being delayed.

Now I did think that we had gotten out of there on time. There was a big thunderstorm at 3 or so and my plane didn't leave until 5, so I thought I had dodged a bullet. I was wrong. We got away from the gate on time, but ended up 10th in line for takeoff. While we were waiting, another storm came up. The pilot kept us informed, as they always do (seriously, people who say things like, "we had no idea what was going on!' are idiots. Maybe if they shut up for two seconds and listened to the announcements they'd understand.) , and when we finally went back to the gate, we all knew that we were canceled.

Some of us didn't accept that. Awwwwww. Maybe we should all have been Buddy Hollied because you are going to miss your connection. Stupid assholes.

I fly at least twice a week, sometimes up to eight segments, I have had my flight cancelled twice this year. I have sat on a runway for what I would call a loooong time ( over an hour) only twice. On the other hand, I have missed two flights due to traffic. I have had to leave two hours early in order to get to the airport on time, for a total trip time of over eight hours, innumerable times because of heavy traffic in Chicago, DC, Philadelphia, Atlanta, Minneapolis, Detroit, Houston, Dallas, Kansas City, St Louis, and Cincinnati but I've only had ground stop delays in Washington DC. I've only had Air Traffic Delays in New York, Chicago and Philadelphia. Funny, how the cities with really bad automobile traffic and really bad weather have the most airport delays. Imagine!

And to tell the truth, I'd rather be sitting on a plane for an hour than sittting in the Philadelphia terminal for four.

We don't need a passengers bill of rights, we need better, larger airports on the East Coast. Start in New York.

All a passengers bill of rights will do is to cut the number of flights that go out in a day. A day, like 95% of them, when there are no delays. Except at JFK, due to heavy air traffic.

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So yeah, like I said...


Since I've been gone I've had a couple changes in my life. I got my old job back, I got a new phone and I got another dog. I got the dog to replace the cat, you might know that I had a cat with the intestines of a forty-year old sheet metal worker.

The new dog looks just like the old dog but smells worse. That helps me figure out which one is sitting under my desk and farting. "Ah", I say, "rotten cantaloupe with a side of blue cheese and slightly aged bus station tilework... why that's obviously Little Bites with a side of hotdog. Hello Scamper" Then, of course, "Oh my. Six day old warm egg salad with just a touch of mustard gas with floating notes of festering corpse. Freckles, I do believe you've outdone yourself, did you eat a child?" Then I have to go and check. Really, two dogs is just too much. On the other hand, since most of my children are now missing limbs, it's a lot easier to keep track of them. And that's good news.

You see, The Prince is two days away from entering High School, where I will lose him forever. I'm sure all he hears when I speak is the "waaa-wa-waaa" noise that Charlie Brown's teacher makes. My reflexes are too slow to keep up with him any more. I'm stuck on the train in Einstein's thought experiment, time seems normal to me, but to him I'm days, months, YEARS behind. I'm not sure how I'll deal with this, maybe if I tape every conversation and playback at a slower speed?

Of course, just thinking of using a tape recorder just put me another ten years behind the times. I can feel the laughter without actually hearing it. No matter. I earn the money, I'll just hand it out like they did in my day. 35 cents for lunch to cover drink and a soft pretzel. If he saves enough, maybe he'll be able to get a new onion for his belt.

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It took three months...


Today I got my automated email from Google Analytics and evidently I've hit zero. No hits, runs or errors.

So I'm back in. I've decided I'm not going to overthink, spellcheck or really care what goes up here. I'm not going to play any kind of games. Now that I have no traffic, I have no pressure.

I've always liked the whole "screaming at the top of my lungs like a drunk in a public park" thing that I had going for a while. That's coming back. I'm going to say what I want. If I contradict myself, so what? If I offend you, I don't care.

I was thinking last night that it was interesting that when I had 300+ readers a day I never cared about traffic, but when that turned into 300 per month, then later into 300 per year, I tried really hard to get people to read my site,without, you know, actually trying to make it a better site. I guess that's how one of those reality TV people feel when they get kicked off the show.

Not blogging for three months was actually harder than blogging every weekday for five straight years. Funny.

Get ready, this place is going to live up to it's name.

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