The past 6 months have not bode well for elections. Whether it's Ohio's hog-tied Reddening or Chris "6 Years And I'm Outta This Closet!" Gregoire's arguing that NO NO NO SHE IS THE GOVERNOR, Democracy has been kicked gut-flush. Sunday will mark Iraq's election, and their voter turnout, much like ours, is going to be violently dictated by a radical religious regime known as Hollywood. Sorry Dems, we lost because Kerry wasn't ready to be President, but nobody told him that. And for crying out loud.... Jackson Browne???
ANYway, tonight and tomorrow are the last 2 nights of the Giggles Laugh-Off. I made the finals, as did Brad Brake, Scott Black, Geoff Brousseau, DL, Andy Peters, Owen Straw, and Drew Barth. With all these candidates, we're all running on different platforms. Turns out that some of those platforms aren't funny as far as funny pertains to originality and ability. So I figure it this way... I'm not doing the contest. I'm going to do comedy. I am bringing a good attitude to it, and I'll go with the flow of the night. Besides, being judged by a roomful of half-drunk strangers who don't see the nuances of a good performance reminds me too much of family reunions. The nuances, by the way, can be found tucked between the knacks and the vigor.
Good Comedy tells ya what's going on without telling you what's going on. It's all pulled from a section of life and hopefully, if the comic's any good, there's a new perspective on it. And if not, well, it takes all kinds, even if they use unscientific terms to relate tales of bodily functions.
========
In response to Anonymous:
Your self-diagnosed paranoia is well-founded. People are talking about you when you're not around. They're saying you are paranoid, as you hot-stack it with unearned self-righteousness. And from all accounts, you are continuing to talk about others in modes of gossip and half-truths, so you've again proven yourself as little more than a mosquito.
Rumors, gossip, half-truths, politicking, whatever it's called, it's really odd to hear about. I'm not sure what it is because I, and most others, have quit watching a while ago.
Insanity: Repeating behavior patterns while expecting different results each time.
Good luck with that.
========
Another good way to make it look like you earn too much money is to send e-mails like the one I received from a "manager" yesterday at 4:30pm:
Hi Goeff!
Could you send me by tomorrow a list of the techs for Call Centers in 2004? I want to show our coverage for the work we did in 2004 by the techs for Call Centers! And can I get that by tomorrow afternoon?
Thanks!
Now, I have edited out some of the more work-propietary stuff, but the rest of this communiqué met the sender's standards for requesting information. My name's misspelled (even though it's in the address line and we've worked together before), we have 5 types of Call Centers, and "tech" is a title bestowed upon employees in no less than 15 different teams. "Afternoon" means WHEN, exactly? Redundancy aside, I hope you can understand what kind of people it takes to run a company directly into the ground.
==========
In the meantime, Tony Moser finds his muse.
==========
Is anybody blogging anymore? So much for creativity.
==========
ake Me Home
My Non-Funny Blog.
Geoff Lott: Comedian, Writer, Philosoteur. I am here to amuse you, not entertain you. If not now, later. If not you, somebody else. If you can't laugh at yourself, that's just fine, too. I will do it for you.
Friday, January 28, 2005
Thursday, January 27, 2005
I Think I Have It Figured Out. Don't Move...
Calling someone an "asshole" is appropriate when they are full of crap or hot air.
If you're thinking you don't have to cooperate with the police, here's what fun is in store for you. And yeah, it's funny
Jet propulsion works by sucking air in, heating the bejeezus out of it, and forcing it out the back end. The expulsion propels you forward at anywhere from 4 - 2,100 mph. I want a little jet engine on my car, along with Venturi channels to lower the CG through turns.
You can't hire robots to do your work. Robots don't interview well, and forget trying to get them to do paper work.
You're going to have a bad day if the first words of the morning are "Man... that's a lot of throw-up."
The term "ass-less chaps" is both egregious and incorrect. All chaps are "assless." That's what makes them chaps. Otherwise, thems are pants. Okay, pants with the front cut out, but nobody talks about "crotchless chaps." If you're willing to wear chaps, you don't care if you get some sun on the groceries, eh fella?
Ashlee Simpson is an amazingly well-trained karaoke talent, with sub-par looks and no natural ability. I bet part of her brain complains that she "has to work all the time" while her friends have it easy going to college. She's a pack of Kools away from a brutish parking-lot tongue-bath at the whim of Lil Bow-Wow. I don't want her to die, just to lose the ability to vocalize anything.
Magnetic propulsion, people... keep your eyes and stock options on it. Bullet trains. Bullet cars. Bullet... shoes? Well, whatever it is, someone will try and sell you a blinking battery for it.
I saw a sticker on a car this morning that made me want to wretch after throwing poop on the car after wretching on it. The car is a black, 1996-98'ish BMW 540i, driven by a co-worker whom I happen to know is 25 at the most. It is parked far away from other cars in the lot, which only entices me to park as close to is as I possibly can.
His sticker is a black background, with a 2"-high, white W, with smaller letters beneath it that say The President.
This is the same guy who got his initials tattooed on his ankle when he was 20.
At first I thought the guy was just another parentally-blinded Republican who is worried about his inheritance more than his individuality. I know him well enough to tell you that he knows less about politics than your average devotee of "The O.C." He wears shirts buttoned to his Adam's Assle - even without a tie - accompanied by a pretty sweet bracelet. I was dead sure this guy was buying his personality out of a 1999 issue of "Future PromiseKeepers Monthly."
Then I realized, no, I just hate grown men who go by their initials.
The Red Hot Chili Peppers are a great band. I like the music of theirs that I don't even like. "Knock Me Down" was my introduction to them. I heard "Scar Tissue" this morning. I think it would be enlightening to play music with them or surf with Anthony Kiedis for a day.
I wish I could surf. I'll have to find another way to bait sharks and bank robbers who don masks of former Presidents.
The Violent Femmes are the most over-rated band of all time. Each time I hear the de-tuned plunking of "Blister In The Sun" I want to leg-sweep every ''WOOOOO''ing, head-lolling, hand-raising 23 year-old "rebel" chick with the fervor of every "YEAAAAH"ing, head-lolling, hand-raising 32 year-old "artsy" guy trying to slip inside that sleeping bag. If you like the Violent Femmes, you can look forward to acid flashbacks and a lot of slimming clothes, at least in color.
Quick question... Should I still be Raging against The Machine, or are we cool? I figured my rage would draw attention to me, making it more difficult to bring it down with subversion... so... yeah. RAAAAH and what-not. Rage. Grr.
I was asked to perform comedy at a High School, and I couldn't do it. There's no way I could go in there and not launch into a speech about how every single one of those kids should get their GED and leave behind the BS that is High School. But then the teachers would be pissed at me for emptying their dating pool.
Dat Phan isn't funny.
Margaret Cho isn't funny.
Tina Kim isn't funny.
But I repeatedly repeat myself...
Opinions are like assholes. They are easily defeated when empty and weak.
The more I hear Mitch Hedberg's jokes, the more I realize how easy it is to write in that style of comedy. There are a couple Seattle guys straight-copping Hedberg's act. I can't wait for their chasing of the dragon while making $150 every two weeks as a feature. Is Hedberg washed up? I shouldn't comment as to his cleanliness, but let's hope he takes care of himself long enough for his stellar "Clean & Sober-er Tour" to get cut short by a kite-high feature shooting him in the foot.
According to all eye-witness accounts, Michael Jackson is truly a Smooth Criminal. How F'ed up is that guy? He's Biblically F'ed. Thrown from the mountain F'ed. "Jesus Juice?" How dare he use the name of Jesus to take advantage of young boys. I sure hope he's sought counsel with a priest.
For about 30 minutes this morning I forgot what day it was. I couldn't remember if it was the 27th or the day I swap the neighbor's morning paper with a Polaroid of my exhaust pipe. I know he loves my car, so I toy with him. (see, Hedberg jokes ain't hard)
A guy I work with, who would make David Brent look like William Wallace, apparently has a girlfriend in Bangkok, Thailand. I asked him how she fared with the tsunami, and he said she was fine, and that he's going to visit her in a week, and that he was going to ask her to marry him. I think that's a little weird, but apparently proposing is formality with these mail-order brides. (the first half of the story is totally true, the second half is the mind-crossing thought I had when he mentioned proposing marriage. It's also how my jokes about the tsunami were born. now go back, and close the curtain behind you)
Everyone's got a little kink to 'em, something that turns them on in a way they cannot and should not explain. You'll know what I'm talking about the next time you see someone staring at a sign. You may see "Watch Your Step," but in their head, that person's sucking Rosie O'Donnell's big toes. (thus concludes a thought that grosses-out Chad Roberts on two levels)
Seriously, Alicia, I see a great future for us. I love you, like, ACTIVELY Love you, I can feel it happening as real as I can feel my muscles growing larger than Tony Moser's again. I know my birthday's coming up, but I already have you and I'm so happy, I really can't think of anything else I want. Sorry for cutting the queso in Mexico. And on the phone. These things happen, but let's get past them. That's why I bought those candles :^) I know you say it all the time, but yes, I know that I am all kinds of charming. Really though, I LOOOOOVE You.
Space may be the final frontier, but it's made in a Hollywood basement,
and Cobain can you hear the spheres singing songs off station-to-station,
and Alderaan's not far away, it's Californication.
Star Trek. Kurt Cobain. Princess Leia's home planet. All in 7 seconds of a Chili Peppers song.
The best suggestion I've yet to hear regarding late-Spring activities:
Pony-keg and Kickball in FreBall field on 4th and 43rd. Guys kick opposite foot, 5-innings.
And don't crowd the plate, fruity, I'll buzz your tower.
Killorn O'Neill is, at best, an average from-scratch cake baker, but a kick-ass fount of egregiously hip pop culture knowledge. Good enchiladas, though. Hello crazy dreams.
Geoff & Alicia sittin' in a tree... YOU KIDS QUIT TRYING TO LOOK UP HER SKIRT!!!
My girlfriend teases me a lot because she knows I don't hit women.
Have you ever heard of this guy? Neither has he.
I'm out. See ya.
================
Take Me Home
My Non-Funny Blog.
If you're thinking you don't have to cooperate with the police, here's what fun is in store for you. And yeah, it's funny
Jet propulsion works by sucking air in, heating the bejeezus out of it, and forcing it out the back end. The expulsion propels you forward at anywhere from 4 - 2,100 mph. I want a little jet engine on my car, along with Venturi channels to lower the CG through turns.
You can't hire robots to do your work. Robots don't interview well, and forget trying to get them to do paper work.
You're going to have a bad day if the first words of the morning are "Man... that's a lot of throw-up."
The term "ass-less chaps" is both egregious and incorrect. All chaps are "assless." That's what makes them chaps. Otherwise, thems are pants. Okay, pants with the front cut out, but nobody talks about "crotchless chaps." If you're willing to wear chaps, you don't care if you get some sun on the groceries, eh fella?
Ashlee Simpson is an amazingly well-trained karaoke talent, with sub-par looks and no natural ability. I bet part of her brain complains that she "has to work all the time" while her friends have it easy going to college. She's a pack of Kools away from a brutish parking-lot tongue-bath at the whim of Lil Bow-Wow. I don't want her to die, just to lose the ability to vocalize anything.
Magnetic propulsion, people... keep your eyes and stock options on it. Bullet trains. Bullet cars. Bullet... shoes? Well, whatever it is, someone will try and sell you a blinking battery for it.
I saw a sticker on a car this morning that made me want to wretch after throwing poop on the car after wretching on it. The car is a black, 1996-98'ish BMW 540i, driven by a co-worker whom I happen to know is 25 at the most. It is parked far away from other cars in the lot, which only entices me to park as close to is as I possibly can.
His sticker is a black background, with a 2"-high, white W, with smaller letters beneath it that say The President.
This is the same guy who got his initials tattooed on his ankle when he was 20.
At first I thought the guy was just another parentally-blinded Republican who is worried about his inheritance more than his individuality. I know him well enough to tell you that he knows less about politics than your average devotee of "The O.C." He wears shirts buttoned to his Adam's Assle - even without a tie - accompanied by a pretty sweet bracelet. I was dead sure this guy was buying his personality out of a 1999 issue of "Future PromiseKeepers Monthly."
Then I realized, no, I just hate grown men who go by their initials.
The Red Hot Chili Peppers are a great band. I like the music of theirs that I don't even like. "Knock Me Down" was my introduction to them. I heard "Scar Tissue" this morning. I think it would be enlightening to play music with them or surf with Anthony Kiedis for a day.
I wish I could surf. I'll have to find another way to bait sharks and bank robbers who don masks of former Presidents.
The Violent Femmes are the most over-rated band of all time. Each time I hear the de-tuned plunking of "Blister In The Sun" I want to leg-sweep every ''WOOOOO''ing, head-lolling, hand-raising 23 year-old "rebel" chick with the fervor of every "YEAAAAH"ing, head-lolling, hand-raising 32 year-old "artsy" guy trying to slip inside that sleeping bag. If you like the Violent Femmes, you can look forward to acid flashbacks and a lot of slimming clothes, at least in color.
Quick question... Should I still be Raging against The Machine, or are we cool? I figured my rage would draw attention to me, making it more difficult to bring it down with subversion... so... yeah. RAAAAH and what-not. Rage. Grr.
I was asked to perform comedy at a High School, and I couldn't do it. There's no way I could go in there and not launch into a speech about how every single one of those kids should get their GED and leave behind the BS that is High School. But then the teachers would be pissed at me for emptying their dating pool.
Dat Phan isn't funny.
Margaret Cho isn't funny.
Tina Kim isn't funny.
But I repeatedly repeat myself...
Opinions are like assholes. They are easily defeated when empty and weak.
The more I hear Mitch Hedberg's jokes, the more I realize how easy it is to write in that style of comedy. There are a couple Seattle guys straight-copping Hedberg's act. I can't wait for their chasing of the dragon while making $150 every two weeks as a feature. Is Hedberg washed up? I shouldn't comment as to his cleanliness, but let's hope he takes care of himself long enough for his stellar "Clean & Sober-er Tour" to get cut short by a kite-high feature shooting him in the foot.
According to all eye-witness accounts, Michael Jackson is truly a Smooth Criminal. How F'ed up is that guy? He's Biblically F'ed. Thrown from the mountain F'ed. "Jesus Juice?" How dare he use the name of Jesus to take advantage of young boys. I sure hope he's sought counsel with a priest.
For about 30 minutes this morning I forgot what day it was. I couldn't remember if it was the 27th or the day I swap the neighbor's morning paper with a Polaroid of my exhaust pipe. I know he loves my car, so I toy with him. (see, Hedberg jokes ain't hard)
A guy I work with, who would make David Brent look like William Wallace, apparently has a girlfriend in Bangkok, Thailand. I asked him how she fared with the tsunami, and he said she was fine, and that he's going to visit her in a week, and that he was going to ask her to marry him. I think that's a little weird, but apparently proposing is formality with these mail-order brides. (the first half of the story is totally true, the second half is the mind-crossing thought I had when he mentioned proposing marriage. It's also how my jokes about the tsunami were born. now go back, and close the curtain behind you)
Everyone's got a little kink to 'em, something that turns them on in a way they cannot and should not explain. You'll know what I'm talking about the next time you see someone staring at a sign. You may see "Watch Your Step," but in their head, that person's sucking Rosie O'Donnell's big toes. (thus concludes a thought that grosses-out Chad Roberts on two levels)
Seriously, Alicia, I see a great future for us. I love you, like, ACTIVELY Love you, I can feel it happening as real as I can feel my muscles growing larger than Tony Moser's again. I know my birthday's coming up, but I already have you and I'm so happy, I really can't think of anything else I want. Sorry for cutting the queso in Mexico. And on the phone. These things happen, but let's get past them. That's why I bought those candles :^) I know you say it all the time, but yes, I know that I am all kinds of charming. Really though, I LOOOOOVE You.
Space may be the final frontier, but it's made in a Hollywood basement,
and Cobain can you hear the spheres singing songs off station-to-station,
and Alderaan's not far away, it's Californication.
Star Trek. Kurt Cobain. Princess Leia's home planet. All in 7 seconds of a Chili Peppers song.
The best suggestion I've yet to hear regarding late-Spring activities:
Pony-keg and Kickball in FreBall field on 4th and 43rd. Guys kick opposite foot, 5-innings.
And don't crowd the plate, fruity, I'll buzz your tower.
Killorn O'Neill is, at best, an average from-scratch cake baker, but a kick-ass fount of egregiously hip pop culture knowledge. Good enchiladas, though. Hello crazy dreams.
Geoff & Alicia sittin' in a tree... YOU KIDS QUIT TRYING TO LOOK UP HER SKIRT!!!
My girlfriend teases me a lot because she knows I don't hit women.
Have you ever heard of this guy? Neither has he.
I'm out. See ya.
================
Take Me Home
My Non-Funny Blog.
Wednesday, January 26, 2005
Of Love And Luck
I can't think of anybody other than my girlfriend that I would rather spend time with. If I had a full day to spend with someone I would make arrangements to make sure she was free for the whole day, and that we did whatever we felt like doing.
She is a very hard worker, putting in time with 3 companies and taking a Statistics course, not to mention putting up with my weirdness. She was volunteering until recently, also, as well as moving in with a couple of friends who also happen to be comics. Her time and patience ought to be red-lined, but she trudges on.
I do what I can to make her days easier, whether it's a quick breakfast or leaving the room on a weekend morning and reading on the couch, just so she can sleep in. She challenges me to better myself in ways that will benefit my peace of mind. She sees in me something I don't always see in myself. She appreciates me and all my foibles, which are sometimes loud and corrosive to good moods and bedspreads.
This must be that feeling of "simply knowing" who I am supposed to be with for the rest of my life. It's both a calming and exhilirating feeling, making me want to work harder to provide many great moments in our lives, and realizing that Life can't stop for anyone, so it's time to kick close the doors of the past, and enjoy the game of Chutes and Ladders ahead.
ALS, I love you. Thanks for giving us a chance!
===
"Of course I believe in luck. How else can I justify the fortunes of those I dislike?"
~Old dead guy
I included the above quotation for any number of reasons. Mostly because I'm learning to appreciate all I have gained and been given. I try to leave others to their own lives. They don't need my input to screw it up. They'll do it on their own.
==
Take Me Home
My Non-Funny Blog.
She is a very hard worker, putting in time with 3 companies and taking a Statistics course, not to mention putting up with my weirdness. She was volunteering until recently, also, as well as moving in with a couple of friends who also happen to be comics. Her time and patience ought to be red-lined, but she trudges on.
I do what I can to make her days easier, whether it's a quick breakfast or leaving the room on a weekend morning and reading on the couch, just so she can sleep in. She challenges me to better myself in ways that will benefit my peace of mind. She sees in me something I don't always see in myself. She appreciates me and all my foibles, which are sometimes loud and corrosive to good moods and bedspreads.
This must be that feeling of "simply knowing" who I am supposed to be with for the rest of my life. It's both a calming and exhilirating feeling, making me want to work harder to provide many great moments in our lives, and realizing that Life can't stop for anyone, so it's time to kick close the doors of the past, and enjoy the game of Chutes and Ladders ahead.
ALS, I love you. Thanks for giving us a chance!
===
"Of course I believe in luck. How else can I justify the fortunes of those I dislike?"
~Old dead guy
I included the above quotation for any number of reasons. Mostly because I'm learning to appreciate all I have gained and been given. I try to leave others to their own lives. They don't need my input to screw it up. They'll do it on their own.
==
Take Me Home
My Non-Funny Blog.
Good Reasons To Defraud A Corporation
As part of most employment packages for full-time workers, and the less-than-part-timers on salary (wheeee!), a company frequently pays the premiums for its employees health care coverage. This includes medical, dental, vision, psychological (underutilized), nutritional (right), and often some "alternative therapies," such as chiropractic and massage ("happy endings" available only with a co-pay).
These benefits are mainstays of a "good job." You work full time, the company gives you a health care coverage bundle, and perhaps some stock options to go along with your raping the company of it's operating capital because you and the other dipshits made every wrong decision when it came to forward-thinking strategies in technology... I'm sorry, that's not you, that was John Zeglis, former CEO of AT&T Wireless who walked with a severance package in excess of $15,000,000. Got that? He ruined a company and made off with, and I can't say this loudly en-MF'ing-nuff... in EXCESS of FIFTEEN MILLION DOLLARS.
John Zeglis lacked foresight (it was removed at birth) which left AT&T Wireless quacking indignantly around the shallow pond of wounded companies, wings broken, trying still to light to the wind. Every flap caused greater internal damage, while the signals to stop and fix things never got through to the brain, which was lodged ass-wise in the lame duck. Eventually the whole carcass was picked up by Cingular, the Dr. Frankenfurter of wireless communication, for experiments in torture and/or bureaucratic horse-pulling. What's next? Why, the sweet relief of a Layoff, if you're lucky.
People who did a lot of hard work to make a situation better are being let go due to a decision forced down the throats of managers with employees with stellar performance results. Those being layed-off are lucky. A lot of people are getting their walking papers right now, with a hefty chunk of change and their benefits to hold them over for a few months. Play it right and these folks wouldn't have to work for about a year, while their health coverage steps in when needed.
But what if health coverage was no longer there? Get used to this idea, because I believe the health care industry is eating itself from the outside in, which will affect all of us sooner or later. Major corporations dump tons of cash into the health insurer's coffers every year as premiums for their employees. Health care costs are on the rise again. Employees rarely use their benefits to full extent, opting instead to wear their hideous glasses for another presidential administration. If you are the kind of dedicated worker who comes into work even when you're very ill, I thank you for this:
* By not going to the doctor and staying home for one day to rest, and spare your physically if not emotionally healthy co-workers from contracting your wet-coughing/sinus-clogging/nipple-blistering catfish flu, you saved your company $250!
* On the flip side, four co-workers said "F this, I can't work with nipple-clogging sinus-blisters!" and took two days off each to see doctors. (4 co-workers X 2 Missed days) X $250/day = $2,000! Luckily, you were there to forward another round of jokes to your missing co-workers, all while continuously sneezing, coughing, and dripping on every 3rd surface you touched. With your lack of intelligence, your illness could live on forever!
The alternatives the corporations begin to wonder about - and anytime money is involved, corporations start a-wond'rin' - will likely include the following, when it comes saving money on health care costs for employees:
Take Me Home
My Non-Funny Blog
These benefits are mainstays of a "good job." You work full time, the company gives you a health care coverage bundle, and perhaps some stock options to go along with your raping the company of it's operating capital because you and the other dipshits made every wrong decision when it came to forward-thinking strategies in technology... I'm sorry, that's not you, that was John Zeglis, former CEO of AT&T Wireless who walked with a severance package in excess of $15,000,000. Got that? He ruined a company and made off with, and I can't say this loudly en-MF'ing-nuff... in EXCESS of FIFTEEN MILLION DOLLARS.
John Zeglis lacked foresight (it was removed at birth) which left AT&T Wireless quacking indignantly around the shallow pond of wounded companies, wings broken, trying still to light to the wind. Every flap caused greater internal damage, while the signals to stop and fix things never got through to the brain, which was lodged ass-wise in the lame duck. Eventually the whole carcass was picked up by Cingular, the Dr. Frankenfurter of wireless communication, for experiments in torture and/or bureaucratic horse-pulling. What's next? Why, the sweet relief of a Layoff, if you're lucky.
People who did a lot of hard work to make a situation better are being let go due to a decision forced down the throats of managers with employees with stellar performance results. Those being layed-off are lucky. A lot of people are getting their walking papers right now, with a hefty chunk of change and their benefits to hold them over for a few months. Play it right and these folks wouldn't have to work for about a year, while their health coverage steps in when needed.
But what if health coverage was no longer there? Get used to this idea, because I believe the health care industry is eating itself from the outside in, which will affect all of us sooner or later. Major corporations dump tons of cash into the health insurer's coffers every year as premiums for their employees. Health care costs are on the rise again. Employees rarely use their benefits to full extent, opting instead to wear their hideous glasses for another presidential administration. If you are the kind of dedicated worker who comes into work even when you're very ill, I thank you for this:
* By not going to the doctor and staying home for one day to rest, and spare your physically if not emotionally healthy co-workers from contracting your wet-coughing/sinus-clogging/nipple-blistering catfish flu, you saved your company $250!
* On the flip side, four co-workers said "F this, I can't work with nipple-clogging sinus-blisters!" and took two days off each to see doctors. (4 co-workers X 2 Missed days) X $250/day = $2,000! Luckily, you were there to forward another round of jokes to your missing co-workers, all while continuously sneezing, coughing, and dripping on every 3rd surface you touched. With your lack of intelligence, your illness could live on forever!
The alternatives the corporations begin to wonder about - and anytime money is involved, corporations start a-wond'rin' - will likely include the following, when it comes saving money on health care costs for employees:
- Get rid of employees. Go all-contracted work, which would probably violate some sort of anti-something laws. I know one large software company that has had tons of problems with contractors not getting a fair shake over the years. So, no contractors.
- Robots! Finally, metal humanoids or possibly dolphins or an octopus will be doing our work, controlled at the push of a button. They will work all night and all day, never needing rest or doctors visits! BOO-AH HA HA HAAAAAAA!
OH CRAP, computers are robots, and they never fail, huh? So maybe that's not a good idea. Unless the company pays 3-5 men with cinch-waisted black leather jackets to park their Chrysler PT Cruisers out front and their Robot-loving carcasses inside to work on whichever unit breaks down. They'll know a lot about the technology, and won't be caught up in any kind of relationship. - Monkies! I've seen any number of Project Managers at my company who could not handle the daily schedule of a prairie dog, let alone the negotiation and coordination of getting 3 people together for a company-paid lunch. But let's see a bonobo whip out a 47,000 record pivot table and graph in under 10 minutes, while NOT whipping turds into the other cages.
Seriously, that would be rather grand. - NO MORE BENEFITS! You heard me, no more benefits! Sorry, you don't get 'em. You'll have to go through an insurance broker. And you'll find that you pay about $75-$200 a month to cover your needs. And you'll be fine. When's the last time you went to a doctor? Okay, BESIDES for the baby and those sores? Exactly. Get ready. Your company doesn't care about you.
Take Me Home
My Non-Funny Blog
Monday, January 24, 2005
Good Night, Johnny.
Yesterday morning, the world lost one the best entertainers in human history.
Johnny Carson passed away at the age of 79 after battling emphysema. He retired over a decade ago, appearing on our televsion sets only in commercials for bundled, revisionary sets of his manically popular "Tonight Show." He made it his after taking over for Jack Parr, and never once did his hosting of the show feel despotic. Johnny's charm and hipness made it proper for people of all ages to stay up later than they'd planned on, and Johnny's show always delivered laughs and music to send you to bed.
Johnny Carson was an inspiration to countless stand-up comics. He was the pinnacle of talk show hosting prowess. He was a man who was always known as kind, caring, and generous. He had a stellar sense of humor about everything, especially himself. He could have a very funny guest on, and his ego was put aside so the guest could have the spotlight, and Johnny could always laugh at his own shortcomings, making his humanity the punchline. And if you can't laugh at yourself, you cannot truly laugh at anything. Such as it is with all the best things in life, from love to forgiveness.
I imagine Johnny hosted an impromptu "Eternity Show" in the Great Beyond with musical guest John Lennon, and the comedic stylings of Bill Hicks. All three of these entertainers had one great message: We're human, we may do stupid things with great aplomb, and great things with simple intent, but if we do it with a feeling of love we can't ever be questioned as to why we do it. Because the Love told us to, and we love those who share it like that. You don't know it's love, but you know you enjoyed being a part of it and in a weird way, miss the cruise control that Johnny and his gang could lock the FunMachine on. What a great ride it was.
Like begets like. And there's never been, nor will there ever be, another like Johnny Carson. We were very lucky to see and hear the best of his talents. He wanted his viewers and audiences to take it easy, even if it wasn't until the last waking hour of our day, which could keep us laughing for a week.
Thank You, Johnny. I'm sure you got the wave to the big couch in the afterlife.
=+=+=
Take Me Home
My Non-Funny Blog.
Johnny Carson passed away at the age of 79 after battling emphysema. He retired over a decade ago, appearing on our televsion sets only in commercials for bundled, revisionary sets of his manically popular "Tonight Show." He made it his after taking over for Jack Parr, and never once did his hosting of the show feel despotic. Johnny's charm and hipness made it proper for people of all ages to stay up later than they'd planned on, and Johnny's show always delivered laughs and music to send you to bed.
Johnny Carson was an inspiration to countless stand-up comics. He was the pinnacle of talk show hosting prowess. He was a man who was always known as kind, caring, and generous. He had a stellar sense of humor about everything, especially himself. He could have a very funny guest on, and his ego was put aside so the guest could have the spotlight, and Johnny could always laugh at his own shortcomings, making his humanity the punchline. And if you can't laugh at yourself, you cannot truly laugh at anything. Such as it is with all the best things in life, from love to forgiveness.
I imagine Johnny hosted an impromptu "Eternity Show" in the Great Beyond with musical guest John Lennon, and the comedic stylings of Bill Hicks. All three of these entertainers had one great message: We're human, we may do stupid things with great aplomb, and great things with simple intent, but if we do it with a feeling of love we can't ever be questioned as to why we do it. Because the Love told us to, and we love those who share it like that. You don't know it's love, but you know you enjoyed being a part of it and in a weird way, miss the cruise control that Johnny and his gang could lock the FunMachine on. What a great ride it was.
Like begets like. And there's never been, nor will there ever be, another like Johnny Carson. We were very lucky to see and hear the best of his talents. He wanted his viewers and audiences to take it easy, even if it wasn't until the last waking hour of our day, which could keep us laughing for a week.
Thank You, Johnny. I'm sure you got the wave to the big couch in the afterlife.
=+=+=
Take Me Home
My Non-Funny Blog.
Hammer-Strike Lightning (Strawberry Tongues)
Monday. I have a pretty good attitude today. On Saturday night, in between sushi & sake with my lovely girlfriend who is way more awesome than I can comprehend, she reminded me that as I write a lot, it's likely that I can start pushing that side of my life towards a career. Using one's talents to make a living is a dream of most people's. To be my own boss, as oddly egotistically Catch-22 as that is, is a drive. As we concluded, my mind was trying to erase old & useless information (goodbye, real names of professional wrestlers) for new topics I could write about. So as I have that to look forward to, I decided that Monday would not be the day I power-vomit on co-workers for, you know, kicks.
Today is apparently the most depressing day of the year. There's even mathematical evidence, for you sayers of nay, doubters of the Thomas strain. Dick holes.
And I feel pretty dang good. I bet the really depressed people are even MORE depressed today, because they hate Mondays and because they have a sense of their depression, as opposed to someone like me, who denies depression any shelfspace in my life by not being an over-intense asspipe about how other's live their lives. I don't get overly concerned on days I feel a bit down, and on days I feel great, I keep it going by heaping insults on people I could give two bile-churros about. I find a balance between being at peace and speaking my mind when there's an actual reason to airing it out. Otherwise I sit back and observe and relax.
I'm not better than anyone else, and some people I know are way worse than they believe they are. They'll tell you they dwell in reality, but for the most part they are characters in a one-person show called "This Goes On Forever And I Keep It From Being Fun."
Protect ya neck.
What's In A Name, Besides Personal Identity and Precursors of Success?
MSN posted the Top 10 Baby Names given by parents who like the "sound" of things more than any specific weight. After reading these names, try and guess how many of these dads have tribal arm-band tattoos, while mom's still sporting "The Rachel" cut?
Top 3 for the female chi'dren were as follows:
1: Emma 2: Madison 3: Emily.
These names do not, in my mind, denote any sort of strength, and will look really odd in a small-town Police Blotter under "Public Drunkenness" in 18 years.
Emma evokes Victorian collars and pale skin, cheeks reddened by the touch of a brisk autumn morn, stabling a slightly-built dervish of a mare, "Threshold" after a ride to the swelling river with Aidan (#2 for the boy's names), an intense man 6 years her senior, raven haired and steel-eyed, his chest hair cradling his saintly, buried mother's crucifix, wafting forth the musky dew of saltpeter, tobacco, and other masculine pursuits.
Unless she opens a baby boutique, "Emma" will likely NOT be hittin' the Business Announcements under "New CEOs!"
Baby naming is very important.
Ever seen the website www.Kabalarians.com? Well, now you have access to it. Basically it's a name-checking site that tells you the key characteristics of a person with your name (for Larry's sake, they even have "Shaquille" and "Kelis"). Here's what I dug up for "Madison."
Madison: Your first name of Madison has made you happiest when you are expressing in some creative, artistic way, and not conforming to strict routine. In a large group of comparative strangers, you are quiet and rather shy, unable to express yourself, not really wanting to become involved in conversation. On the other hand, among friends with whom you feel at ease, you are expressive, witty, and quite charming. These contrasting natures make it difficult for people to understand you and can lead to friction in your personal life. You are deep, philosophical, and refined, but your extremely sensitive nature causes you to become depressed and self-pitying over any real or imagined slight.
Luckily for thee, Madison, Connor(#10) Forthright Dalrymple IV has taken a fancy to you. Of course, with a disposition such as yours, you'll likely bear girl child after girl child into the House of Dalrymple, and befall a great illness of the humours that will drive Connor into the arms of the town whore... YOUR OWN SISTER, CINNAMON FURBURGER!
Dream A Weirdass Dream
Take Me Home
My Non-Funny Blog.
Today is apparently the most depressing day of the year. There's even mathematical evidence, for you sayers of nay, doubters of the Thomas strain. Dick holes.
And I feel pretty dang good. I bet the really depressed people are even MORE depressed today, because they hate Mondays and because they have a sense of their depression, as opposed to someone like me, who denies depression any shelfspace in my life by not being an over-intense asspipe about how other's live their lives. I don't get overly concerned on days I feel a bit down, and on days I feel great, I keep it going by heaping insults on people I could give two bile-churros about. I find a balance between being at peace and speaking my mind when there's an actual reason to airing it out. Otherwise I sit back and observe and relax.
I'm not better than anyone else, and some people I know are way worse than they believe they are. They'll tell you they dwell in reality, but for the most part they are characters in a one-person show called "This Goes On Forever And I Keep It From Being Fun."
Protect ya neck.
What's In A Name, Besides Personal Identity and Precursors of Success?
MSN posted the Top 10 Baby Names given by parents who like the "sound" of things more than any specific weight. After reading these names, try and guess how many of these dads have tribal arm-band tattoos, while mom's still sporting "The Rachel" cut?
Top 3 for the female chi'dren were as follows:
1: Emma 2: Madison 3: Emily.
These names do not, in my mind, denote any sort of strength, and will look really odd in a small-town Police Blotter under "Public Drunkenness" in 18 years.
Emma evokes Victorian collars and pale skin, cheeks reddened by the touch of a brisk autumn morn, stabling a slightly-built dervish of a mare, "Threshold" after a ride to the swelling river with Aidan (#2 for the boy's names), an intense man 6 years her senior, raven haired and steel-eyed, his chest hair cradling his saintly, buried mother's crucifix, wafting forth the musky dew of saltpeter, tobacco, and other masculine pursuits.
Unless she opens a baby boutique, "Emma" will likely NOT be hittin' the Business Announcements under "New CEOs!"
Baby naming is very important.
Ever seen the website www.Kabalarians.com? Well, now you have access to it. Basically it's a name-checking site that tells you the key characteristics of a person with your name (for Larry's sake, they even have "Shaquille" and "Kelis"). Here's what I dug up for "Madison."
Madison: Your first name of Madison has made you happiest when you are expressing in some creative, artistic way, and not conforming to strict routine. In a large group of comparative strangers, you are quiet and rather shy, unable to express yourself, not really wanting to become involved in conversation. On the other hand, among friends with whom you feel at ease, you are expressive, witty, and quite charming. These contrasting natures make it difficult for people to understand you and can lead to friction in your personal life. You are deep, philosophical, and refined, but your extremely sensitive nature causes you to become depressed and self-pitying over any real or imagined slight.
Luckily for thee, Madison, Connor(#10) Forthright Dalrymple IV has taken a fancy to you. Of course, with a disposition such as yours, you'll likely bear girl child after girl child into the House of Dalrymple, and befall a great illness of the humours that will drive Connor into the arms of the town whore... YOUR OWN SISTER, CINNAMON FURBURGER!
Dream A Weirdass Dream
Had a dream the other night about being in a comedy club. Surrounded by a gaggle of comics. A few of them had their tongues cut out, and were bleeding but still trying to talk. A few others sported some major skin infections, and everything they touched became covered in a green, mold-like substance that launched spores into the air. At least one other comic was stumbling around with a gun, crying and making a lot of noise and threats. They faces were all people I see on a regular basis.
Did I mention that this weekend brings us to the Finals of the Giggles Comedy Club Laugh-Off?
The same women from a couple weeks ago are again talking child-rearing, which they seem to believe should include spanking. After a look at these gals, yeah, go ahead and spank your kids. The way most of these families are going, Jerry Springer AND Open Mics will never be low on people looking to get on stage. This must be why many men would like to see mothers working only at home. I've heard more stories about this ho-tard's episiotomy than I've heard dick, black hack, or drug side-effect jokes at open mics.
===============
Everybody have a great Monday.
~ Geoffrey Diane Lott
Take Me Home
My Non-Funny Blog.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)