tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-63469769667999718022024-03-06T00:27:08.830-07:00Douchebaggery Abounds"You own everything that happened to you.
Share your stories.
If people wanted you to write warmly about them, they should've behaved better."
--Anne LamottUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger147125truetag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6346976966799971802.post-18735880366012052192017-10-12T20:16:00.001-06:002017-10-12T20:17:24.010-06:00Who Could It Be?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">In another week or so, I am going on holidays. I'm not going anywhere, I'm sticking around the house, but let me tell you; this week-and-a-half off can't come quickly enough. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Work has been one long, endless series of cuntastic mishaps and shitolicious encounters that make just being there a challenge to my mental health. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Here are two typical examples of fucked up bullshit from claimants that I have had to deal with just this week.</span><br />
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<u><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">1. Elderly Dumbfuck</span></u><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Mr. E. Dumbfuck is on the bus with his walker. He rings the bell to get off. As there is some confusion as to where Dumbfuck wants off, the driver asks, "This stop or the next?"</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">"The next," says the frail old shitbag.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">"Maybe you should sit down then," says the driver, but no, "I've-Got-This" declines this helpful advice. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">I know you see it coming. All of you are bright people. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">So, yes, as the bus decelerates, Dumbfuck loses his balance and goes ass-over-walker, sustaining injury. This does not, however, stop him from attempting to file a bodily injury claim with the City.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><b>DENIED</b>.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><u>2. Church Lady</u></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">We received a voicemail from a claimant who claims to have been involved in a pedestrian collision with a City bus. There was some question about the claim, however, since neither the driver, nor his supervisor, who was on the bus at the time of the alleged incident, recall anything of the sort. The claimant called in today to advise her adjuster to close the file. She explained that she wouldn't be pursuing the claim, because the "accident was caused by Satan."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">And, as everyone knows, no municipality in the world is liable for the actions of Satan.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1RTSuiaDe0A" target="_blank"><span style="color: red;">Please only watch the first 30 seconds of this</span></a>, as the rest of it will rot your brain. You've been warned.</span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6346976966799971802.post-26588670301390975132017-09-29T23:19:00.001-06:002017-09-30T21:44:14.636-06:00Homos For Hitler<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Some of you may have received a note from me recently,
indicating a change to my email address. Or perhaps you tried to access my
website and could not. I was planning to give up having my own domain, as I was
faced with the choice of spending more money and time to bring more visitors to
the site, or just letting it go. And I had made up my mind to let it go, but to
be frank, this decision was sped up by the actions of the dillhole who used to
host my domain, a dillhole who turns out to be a racist and Nazi sympathizer.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">The eruption in our relationship happened probably a month
ago, but I have taken this time to mull over my reaction to this incident,
because I didn't want to just "go off". I wanted to consider all the
angles. Also the dillhole and I know a number of people in common, and I wanted
to possibly take their feelings into account as well. These are people I
respect and admire and love on several levels, so my first words on this post
go to them, so that they know that while I am angry, I feel justified in saying
what I say here, and I mean them no disrespect as individuals.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">That being said, here's the deal. The Fragrant Missus and I
met this dipshit--let's call him The Free Speech Fag (since he doesn't mind
being called a fag, it's "stupid" to which he objects, according to
him) several years ago. At first, we were fast friends. The Free Speech Fag was
funny and opinionated and not only was he briefly dating another friend of
ours, but we knew and adored his cousin. (We still do.)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">But then the alarm bells started to go off. At a party we
had at our place one night, the Free Speech Fag spoke at length about how he
doesn't like people of other races. He felt Lebanese people were
"greasy". He could not date people of other races, and, in fact, had
been kicked off of gay dating sites for having a racist profile (i.e. POCs need
not apply). </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Other guests called him out on his statements. One said that, being
a gay man exposed to homophobia, he could not imagine how the Free Speech Fag could
possibly entertain intolerance himself. And when another guest pointed out that
my wife is descended of PoCs, the Free Speech Fag shrugged and said, "I
know."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Now, in hindsight, we should have shown the fucker the door
right then and there. But we didn't. Oh, there was a cooling off period, but we
maintained a friendship with him, thinking perhaps he was just going through a
rough patch or something. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">But then we started noticing other weird shit. Like, I
quickly learned that I couldn't discuss feminist issues with him, because Free
Speech Fag felt that he had the right to hit a woman who hit him first. He also
made bizarre comments about how women financially exploit men. I think this is
an odd remark to make when clearly, the patriarchy financially exploits women
by consistently refusing them wage parity, but he refused to see that. And when
we tried to talk about how many women are murdered at the hands of (male)
domestic partners, he dismissed that argument by saying that these were a few
isolated incidents, and those men were "crazy."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Oh, and when we talked to him about how statistics indicate
that sexual harassment and abuse and exploitation of women by men is epidemic
and systemic, his response was, "Well, men are sexually abused, too."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Yeah, he's one of <i>those</i>. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">So not only was Free Speech Fag a racist, he was also an
MRA. And after he broke up with our friend, he then bought a house with a
heterosexual, polyamorous friend of his who couldn't save up enough money for a
down payment on his own because of his gambling issue. And the polyamorous
friend continued his polyamorous lifestyle, which Free Speech Fag referred to
as "The Parade of Whores". It appeared that the relationships were
informed and consensual, but Free Speech Fag, perhaps out of frustration and
envy, still felt it necessary to pass judgement on both the
"man-child" room-mate and his partners.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">In fact, Free Speech Fag and the roomie had a security
system installed. And I distinctly remember being at supper with Free Speech
Fag one night during which he spent the entire meal tracking the roomie and his
guest through the house via Fag's cellphone.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">"He didn't lock the front door. Oh, now they're in the
kitchen..."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Like *we* gave a shit. But he most certainly did. To a very
creepy, inappropriate, invasive degree.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">So about a year ago, Polyamorous Roomie got transferred out
of province and Free Speech Fag went with him. By this time, the Fragrant
Missus and I were relieved to see him go, although we maintained a sporadic
contact on Facebook. And really, we shouldn't have been surprised when in the
wake of the Charlottesville race clashes, he posted that he feels racists are
entitled to free speech.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Well, no. No, they aren't, and in Canada, they do not have a
legal right to promote hatred and violence. This fact was pointed out to him,
and when he demanded to see the evidence, the poster indicated that there are
plenty of online sources for the Criminal Code of Canada. Free Speech Fag got
all shirty and called the poster an "asshole". <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">A heated debate involving Free Speech Fag, me, the Fragrant
Missus and our friend, N. ensued. N., who did not appreciate either the
incoherent ramblings of a Nazi sympathizer or her boyfriend being called an
asshole, immediately blocked Free Speech Fag. I had already unfriended him, but
followed suit with my own blocking maneuver.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Nevertheless, he kept up an email correspondence with the
Fragrant Missus, reassuring her that he doesn't support the Nazis, just their
right to spew hatred as long as they don't break the law with violence. In
fact, he moaned that he was actually the victim in this disagreement, and that
we weren't "giving him a chance to explain himself", and that we
refused to see the inherent nobility of his actions by defending hateful
people's right to express hateful things (not his exact words, but certainly
his sentiment).<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">The Fragrant Missus kept up a steady stream of anti-Nazi
posts and memes on her FB, and finally, he sent her an email that said, "<b>I
would comment on your post to try and clarify my position, but I've come to the
conclusion that I am not mature enough or strong enough to post something and
then have someone call me stupid and not be able to defend myself without
losing a friend [i.e. my wife]. We can arrest the people uttering threats, but
we still have to let the White Supremacists march and protest. As long as they
don't utter death threats of use symbols of historical death threats. The
Church uses symbols of death threats and overt hate speech every Sunday.</b>"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">So at this point, I lost my temper. I still had access to
him via email, and so I sent him this response:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>"Fuck you, it's not the same thing, you douchebag, and
what you're arguing here is called false equivalence. A bunch of hateful and
violent white assholes calling for the active slaughter of OTHER PEOPLE for no
other reason than that those people are a different colour or religion is NOT
the same thing as a crucifix, just because it has a dead Jewish carpenter on
it. And if that's the best you can do as far as arguments go, then you have lost
all credibility and clearly do not have a firm grasp of the issues.<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>"But that's pretty obvious, isn't it? You try to come
off as some wildly liberal peacenik for allowing Nazi's (Nazis, FFS) their
right to march and shout homophobic/racist slogans, even though you yourself
said that you have lived through people saying 'Die, faggot' to you. For the
love of Christ, grow the fuck up. It's one thing if YOU are willing to endure
that level of hostility, but I can't for the life of me imagine why you would permit
that to happen to anyone else you cared about in a similar situation. Your
thoughts about free speech were quite prevalent in 1934, and yanno what? By
then, it was already too late. History has taught us that allowing these
assholes a voice invariably and inevitably gives them the power to succeed. IF
YOU ARE NOT A RACIST YOURSELF, OR HARBOUR RACIST SENTIMENTS, YOU MUST STAND UP
AGAINST HATE SPEECH.<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>"This is my last word to you on this subject. I am no
longer willing to engage in a discussion about this with you or anyone who
shares your views. In closing, I will only say this; it has been said to you
before, but I am going to make it very clear to you this last time:<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>"The ONE thing we can agree on surrounding this issue
is that certain words and actions have consequences attached to them. You
clearly don't think this applies to you, because when you are hurtful and
appallingly douchey, you cop out by saying, 'I just tell it like it is.' This
makes you a huge asshole and unwilling to take responsibility for your words
and actions. But the fact of the matter is that consequences happen whether you
accept them or not. People stop talking to you, they drop out of your life.
They can no longer deal with your behaviours or your cruelty or your straight up
self-indulgent fucking bullshit.<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>"And that's what is happening right now. You and I are
done, N. is done with you...and this is a direct consequence of you being a
Nazi sympathizer and refusing to acknowledge it and then camoflaging it with
some bullshit argument about free speech.
Oh, I know you think it's because we refuse to hear you out, or we 'just
don't get it'. <o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>"But your behaviours and statements in the past
absolutely point to someone who wants to be able to say what he wants whenever
he wants, no matter how hurtful or appalling, and not hear the feedback when
people tell him what a fucking shit brick he is.<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>"So fuck off."</b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Now, that *should* have been the last of it. Everything that
could have possibly been said on the issue had been said. Or so I thought. But
the one tiny piece of power that Free Speech Fag had left to exercise was that
my domain was hosted on his server. So shortly after that email was sent, he
informed my wife that he had blocked me from FB and email and that he was going
to delete my domain within the week if we didn't find another server. She said
she would look into it, but as indicated at the top of this post, I was
inclined to give it up anyway. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">But then, a few days after that, he sent the Fragrant Missus
a little gem saying that she and her abusive wife (i.e. <i>me</i>) have "broken
his heart". He used to believe that she deserved so much better than me in
a relationship, because I am "so toxic" (yay, new theme song! Boo,
Britney Spears!), but now he recognizes that it's her choice and she deserves
what she gets. Oh, yeah, and he has deleted my domain from his server. So
there. (Actually, what he said was, "I have released that domain into the
wild", which is laughably dramatic, but what do you expect?)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">So, it's not really my intention to explain or defend my
marriage here, but let's examine some facts. First, if in fact I was toxic and
abusive, my wife is absolutely free to leave such an untenable circumstance.
She certainly makes more money than I do, so she is not financially dependent
on me, and she has a proven track record of leaving douchebag losers like her
Tapeworm ex. And with my tiny head and big belly and my non-compliant digestive
system, I can assure you, I am no siren. Seriously. Yet next July, we celebrate
twelve years of marriage, and almost twenty years of being together. I'm gonna
go out on a limb here and say that if The Fragrant Missus was unhappy, she'd
have said something by now.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">And I don't think we can really be expected to take
criticism about our relationship from a chronically single, shallow shitbag who
hasn't had a long term relationship in all the years we've known him, and who
uses Grinder to hook up with married men for furtive, intermittent couplings
and complains constantly that just once he'd "like someone else in the
room while he has sex".<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">But that is all beside the point really. The point is that
the Free Speech Fag justifies his own racism and hatred by defending the right
of Nazis to march and protest the existence of anyone who isn't straight, white
and Christian. The point is that there are limits to what you can get away
with, and we reached our limit with him.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue", arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">And ultimately, this sad, petty little racist had one tiny
bit of power to exercise over me, and he did it. It had nothing to do with
politics, or differences of opinion. It has to do with power. His intention was
to injure. Deleting the website and the email were actually a favour that will
save me money, and their loss a very minor inconvenience. The real injury is
looking into his mind and seeing so much hate.</span><br />
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LOZuxwVk7TU" target="_blank"><span style="color: red;">Toxic, bitches</span></a>!</span></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6346976966799971802.post-8155269960984815652017-09-16T10:35:00.001-06:002017-09-16T10:35:23.089-06:00A Hazy Shade of Douchebag<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">A lot has happened since I posted last, most of it unpleasant, but some of it positive enough to keep me from climbing to the top of a bell tower with a high-powered rifle. Still, there are moments...</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">To begin with, the day after I had a long and very supportive, positive talk with The New Guy, he called the department into the conference room to announce that he had to resign for private and personal reasons. It was a terrible blow to us (except Bananarama), and as he broke the news, one could easily see that the decision had gutted him. My strong suspicion is that his wife either decided she couldn't or wouldn't move to the municipality of Buttfuck from the city where he had worked prior to coming to us. I am speculating here, but it is possible that one of his kids has special needs or something and maybe they were having trouble finding a school or a specific program...I don't know. All I know is, everyone in that room (except Bananarama) felt a great loss at this announcement.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">One of the last things The New Guy did before he left was write a report to the City Solicitor with a list of recommendations for changes to our department. And specifically one of the concerns he raised was the culture of bullying that the clerks have to endure from specific individuals.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">And thank Christ on a Cheeto that he did, because Bananarama has been on an unholy tear. And she's either not that bright or she feels empowered (or both), because she's been bullying me publicly for the whole department to see. At our large departmental meeting prior to his leaving, The New Guy and everyone else watched as Bananarama brought up the isolated incident of the<a href="http://douchebaggeryabounds.blogspot.ca/2017/08/the-enemy-within.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: red;"> incorrect acknowledgement letter</span> </a>that I mentioned in my last post. She wanted to discuss it as a series of ongoing, chronic issues, when--as stated--it was a one off. And I did not shrink away from reminding her that this was a direct result of her jumping the queue and insisting that her work be done on a priority basis. Bananarama did not like being confronted with inconvenient facts. She clearly resents it, and that, children, is tough shit for her.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">The result of this exchange during the meeting is that The New Guy suggested implementing a new policy by which claims that need to be opened on an emergent basis be strictly defined and adhered to, so as to avoid "those that shout the loudest" getting preferential treatment.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">But, of course, being the childish slitch that she is, Bananarama has punished me ever since. One day last week, I was in the photocopy room doing, you know, <b>MY WORK</b>, and while the adjuster M. was discussing a particularly stupid claimant with me, Bananarama breezed into the room and immediately swiped her security card on the machine, thus interrupting my print job.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">M. couldn't quite believe her eyes. She looked at me, saw that I was unimpressed (and stunned) and then she said, "Bananarama, The Best Fucking Clerk in the World is in the middle of a job here."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">(Okay, she might not have referred to me in those terms, but work with me here.)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">"Oh," Bananarama said, unconvincingly. "Sorry."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Then, just this past Wednesday, it happened again, only this time, M. wasn't in the room. I was printing, Bananarama came in and swiped her card on the machine.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">"Excuse me," I said. "I'm in the middle of something here."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">"Yeah," she said, "I see that."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I fantasized briefly about taking her teeth out with a bus bench, but there wasn't one handy, so I collected my work and went immediately to my supervisor's office. She was conveniently talking to Bananarama's boss also. I briefly described the interaction, mentioned that it was the second time, and thanked them for listening to me. Bananarama's boss was in her office before the hour had expired, and according to one of the other clerks, he gave Bananarama an earful. And she attempted to deny the whole thing ever happened.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">But he knows her, and he knows me, and I believe my character and my work speak for themselves. Anyway, the upshot is that now, Bananarama is not speaking to me (at all), there is even more tension in the office, and we have lost The New Guy. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I'm not sure how this is going to pan out.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I could really use some time off.</span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6346976966799971802.post-13417843793112106422017-08-27T09:40:00.000-06:002017-08-27T09:48:51.163-06:00It's A Cruel Summer<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">It is a given, when dealing with the public, that one will encounter all manner of douchebaggery. What buggers the mind is the stultifying magnitude of the public's willful stupidity, hostility, ignorance and entitlement. It is never easy or pleasant to deal with, even if, like me, one is able to find a modicum of humour in all of that crap.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">And this is why it is doubly disappointing when there are people in one's office who *are* the public and behave just like them. Way back <a href="http://douchebaggeryabounds.blogspot.ca/2015/10/the-rocks-stars-of-my-fucked-up-office.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: red;">here</span></a>, I blogged about Bananarama, who has turned out to be, alongside <a href="http://douchebaggeryabounds.blogspot.ca/2017/08/im-not-fan.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: red;">Oscillating Fan</span></a>, one of the worst offenders. Her behaviour has been an ongoing concern for the clerks, our supervisor, Bananarama's supervisor and the other adjusters. She is a bully and an asshole such that she has been *required* to take the Respectful Workplace workshop twice. But I think Bananarama is made of teflon, because it isn't sticking.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Bananarama is, like OF, immune to social cues and feels entitled to your time, no matter what you happen to be doing or how busy you are. Her files are to take precedence over all other files and whatever other tasks you might have before you. There is a process for the adjusters if they want changes or updates to their files. They are either to send an email with instructions to a specific mailbox (in which case the changes are made within two days) or put the physical file in a specially-marked bin. We always have at least one clerk, often two, dedicated to such miscellaneous requests.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">But Bananarama regularly brings the file directly to the last clerk who looked at it to explain how we fucked up (even though her instructions about certain procedures vary from week to week). She utterly ignores the established protocol and sails into one's office to demand special attention. And when one says (through one's sandwich), "I'm on lunch", she responds with, "Okay, but I just want to show you this one thing..."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">We have a new director in our department, and Bananarama hates him with a passion. This is, quite possibly, the best endorsement of his capabilities that we might have, because if Bananarama hates him, he's probably not putting up with her shit the way the former director did. The former director was a rather studious, stooped, slender man with a shock of thick white hair and a gently wry sense of humour. He always reminded me of a medieval monk. He was an excellent leader, but he was older and tired of his work, and one could see that he was just looking forward to hitting the links in Arizona. Which is what he is doing right now, and I wish him joy of it.<br /><br />The New Guy *might* be forty years old, comes from the public sector, and is as bright and shiny as a new penny. He is shy and awkward like a schoolboy, but has been vociferous in defending his new department against the usual municipal bureaucracy, makes an effort to make a personal connection with each of us at least once a day and remembers little details about us from conversation to conversation. I think he is fantastic, and the only one who seems to have an overt issue with The New Guy is Bananarama. The rest of us would marry him tomorrow.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">So this past week, the office was short-staffed. My supervisor is away for two weeks, the awesome man who oversees the adjusters is on medical leave until September, and Pancreas (one of the three clerks) was on holidays. And it was a brutally busy week. If I opened one claim, I must have opened sixty or seventy (which I assure you is a lot) in addition to my other duties. In fact, because Pancreas didn't open a single claim last Thursday or Friday (when the Clueless One was absent), I was still working on claims from last week on Monday.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">So, whatever, right? It is what it is, and the only thing one can do is put one's head down and get the work done. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Except on Monday at 12:15, Bananarama came to my cubicle with a file in her hand and asked if I was opening claims.<br /><br />"I am after 1:00," I said."Right now, I'm on lunch."<br /><br />She moved further into my office to stand next to my desk. "Okay, I just want to ask you if you'll open this claim for me right away."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">"I can't. I'm still working on claims from last week." (This is against policy, by the way. We clerks have been told we're not permitted to tell the adjusters "no". But my experience with Bananarama is that if you give her an inch, she'll put a battlecruiser in it.)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">"Yeah, but this woman has already been waiting a long time and blahblahblah."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Now to clarify, this woman <i>had</i> been waiting a little while, but not because we were behind in our work. The claimant had not gone through the regular channels, and therefore all Bananarama had was a collection of emails to her from another department. But as usual, she felt that her file should be opened on a priority level. Rather than argue with her, I told her that I would try to get to it as soon as possible, and she finally left my office.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">She came to me the next morning to ask if the claim had been opened yet. I said "No". So she came back again at 1:00 to badger me further about it. I felt harassed and bullied, so took the fucking file and opened it right then and there. Unfortunately, in my haste (and resentment), I sent the wrong acknowledgement letter to the claimant. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Bananarama lost her mind. She came back to my office to point out the error in no uncertain terms, insisted I resend it <b>with an apology</b>, and then, on her way out of the office, she stood in the hallway and said, "You guys (i.e.clerks) really need to pay attention to what you're doing."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">The rest of the week was equally challenging. By the time Friday rolled around, I was ready to rage-quit. And the day started shittily when I discovered that the Clueless One wasn't coming in because of some issue with her mommy (not medical). I was, therefore, the only clerk on duty.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Now I will take a moment right here and now to say that the other adjusters pitched right in. They knew what kind of week I'd had and both Ruby and M. offered to open their own claims and generally do whatever they could to lessen my load. It was really nice and I absolutely appreciated their offers. It is people like this that keep me coming back to the office at times like this.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">I had a busy morning, and decided to take my lunch a few minutes early. At 11:45, I went to the kitchen to heat my pasta. When I came back, Bananarama was seated in my chair at my desk, writing instructions for me on a file she wanted me to work on that afternoon. She didn't say anything except "hi", and proceeded to sit there at my desk, forcing me to stand and wait for several minutes while she wrote a note. Then she wanted to explain what she had written.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">I was, by this time, seething with rage. I almost told her to fuck right off. Seriously. Only the spectre of my fucking mortgage kept my tongue still. But by that time, I had had enough. So I choked down my lunch, and spent the rest of my lunch hour composing a long and precise letter to The New Guy about what had happened this week and over the past few months with both O.F. and Bananarama. Let me tell you, that letter compiled an exhaustive list of their various transgressions, and I did apologize for bringing the concerns to him, but in the absence of absolutely everyone else, it went to him by default.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">His response?<br /><br />"Please never feel that you cannot come to me with your concerns, that is what I am here for.<br /><br />"We will fix this."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">So for a while I felt a little better, especially when he sad he wanted to set up a meeting with me next week to talk, and that if Bananarama came to me at all that afternoon, he was to tell me and he would provide an intervention. And I do hold out hope that The New Guy can effect some kind of change or standards so that this culture of bullying will stop. We will certainly see what happens in early September after our departmental meeting.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">But on Friday after work, the Fragrant Missus and I came home to discover that some addict had been in our garage and jacked some of our shit, some of which will be difficult to replace.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">So, I'm not in the best space right now, kids. I'm thinking there isn't enough Prozac in the world to make me feel right about people again. </span><br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6346976966799971802.post-85862029624367926902017-08-21T19:57:00.002-06:002017-08-21T19:57:28.891-06:00Oscillating Fan: A Mighty Wind<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Last week during our weekly clerical meeting, the subject of the Oscillating Fan came up as a general grievance. Specifically, it was suggested that our supervisor ask OF to turn down the volume on her cellphone ringer, as it is very loud and very distracting, especially since we are all in rather cramped quarters.<br /><br />This was duly done. After our meeting, we all went back to our desks and our supervisor went in to see OF and had a very appropriate, very discreet chat about the volume of her cell phone. Although I sit directly outside OF's office, I wasn't able to hear this conversation.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">But I know it happened because mere moments after our supervisor left, OF came out of her lair in a towering fury and complained loudly and longly to Marianne Faithfull about the audacity! How dare anyone! ANYONE! complain about the volume of her ringer! It's not loud! Some people just like to complain obviously! SHE doesn't complain (at which point, I almost choked, that's all she fuckin' does, is bitch and whine), but she is certainly going to start NOW!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">And I confess I was very disappointed to hear Marianne Faithfull get right in there with the whinging. She completely supported OF, saying shit like, "People's music drives me crazy (Clerk 3) and blahblahblah, but I never say nothin', but I guess that's gonna hafta change."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">And this very public exchange was done directly in front of my cubicle, so that all three of us clerks could hear it. It was aggravating to say the least to have them bully us in this manner for no better reason than we find OF's ringer loud. But we were left in no doubt as to where we stand in that office.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Or rather, *I* was left in no doubt. I mentioned in a private message to the clerk I shall call Pancreas that I deeply resented their attempts to belittle and demean us in this way.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">But apparently Pancreas hasn't an ounce of critical analysis in her body because she said, "They don't have status over us!"</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Uh, honey, I don't know how you can miss this, but they DO. Have you seen their paycheques? Their offices? Their other benefits? Their cellphones? Pancreas, not only do they have status over us, THEY JUST RUBBED OUR NOSES IN IT.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">But I digress.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I asked the Clueless One and Pancreas if they felt comfortable going to our supervisor about it, and they demurred, saying, "Nothing's going to change" or "I don't want to make trouble." But I went anyway, cuz FUCK THAT and FUCK THEM. As usual, I found my supervisor to be extremely receptive to my complaint, she made note of it for future, correctly identified it as bullying (without being prompted) and thanked me for my time. Like, genuinely.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">And then later in the week, OF was standing at the door to Marianne's office when OF's cellphone rang. And like the adult she is, OF said, "Oh, my phone. I better get it before it gets too loud."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I had to fight to suggest she stick it up her ass sideways. But both my supervisor and OF's supervisor are away for the next two weeks This means the likelihood of me getting written up for insubordination is distinctly lower than at other times, so it might just happen.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Watch this space for future updates.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">And now, it is time once again for<br /><br /><span style="color: red;"><u>The Claim Of the Week</u></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Sometimes, when I try to imagine the inner mechanisms of my client's minds, I get an image of</span><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"> a repellent, moist slug oozing its slick, slimy path over a barren brainpan, eyestalks waving blindly in the dark, searching desperately for a glimpse of its own intelligence.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I'm not inclined to summon the slug image, though, because I rather find slugs fascinating in their way and would not intentionally offend them with comparisons to the shitbags that call my desk.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Instead, I usually imagine two, maybe three, brain cells, one of them gripping a mostly empty bottle of wood grain alcohol, stumbling around in the vast, black, empty cavern of their skull, pinging off the walls and each other in a more or less random fashion. And they hum tunelessly or shout non sequiturs, like, "He shoots! He SCORES!" or "ZUCCHINI!"</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">That's typically how I imagine them, dipshits like the windowlicking motherfucker who called me this morning. I start at 8:30, and by 9:00, I was ready to sign off on the entire race.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Jurassic Dork called up to ask me how to go about filling out a claim form, because on Friday, he made a turn and hit some barricades that were <b>on the sidewalk</b> with the result that he damaged his own car.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">"So, just let me clarify a few things," I said. "You hit a stationary object on the sidewalk with your car. Is that correct?"</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">"Right."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">"Well, the City of Buttfuck is not going to pay out that claim."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">There was a startled pause, while PeePee Cheeks attempted to process this unexpected response.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">"Why not? They were your barricades!"</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">"They are stationary objects."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">"Yeah, but..."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">"Let me ask you this; if your car was parked and another vehicle hit your car, would you expect to pay for that car's damages?"</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">"So, you guys just put up barricades wherever you want and then walk away?"</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">"Are you suggesting that the barricades require supervision?"</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">"No, but they were sticking out into the lane! What do you expect me to do if the barricades are sticking out into traffic and there are cars in the other lane?"</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">"The City of Buttfuck expects you, as the operator of a motor vehicle, to slow down, stop if necessary, wait for the traffic to pass, and then proceed in safety without striking a stationary object."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">"So, you're not going to do anything about the damage to my car, even though they were your barricades and they were encroaching on traffic? I mean, why didn't you push them back?"</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">"Because the barricades are placed where they are for safety reasons. They are there to stop motorists from driving into that area for safety reasons."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">And at this point, the remaining functioning brain cell in this cheeto-dick's head clearly passed out in a feotid pile of its own entitled vomit, and he hung up on me.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Which was, I have to admit, imminently satisfying and a complete victory for me. It was also timely on his part, because I was about to remind the deadshit dicksack that the City of Buttfuck is not his personal Demolition Derby, and furthermore, I'd be retaining his contact information in case we needed to speak to him about recovery to damaged barricades.</span><br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6346976966799971802.post-27927891261358959122017-08-05T11:19:00.001-06:002017-08-05T11:19:54.405-06:00I'm Not A Fan<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Most of the time when I post about my Place of Employment Not Enjoyment, I am fulsome in my contempt of the whiny populace, who seem content to wallow in vast seas of entitlement and ignorance, topped off by the frothy foam of verbal abuse hurled at those paid inadequately to serve them.<br /><br />And that hasn't changed. Why, just last week, I opened a claim for some stunned bitch who feels that the City owes her the replacement of her tires because she ignored the decline of the entrance to the alleyway and drove over the curb. She instead drove into the hole where the City was doing work on the sidewalk. Her reasoning for why we should replace the tires? "I just had them replaced a few months ago." Right. Because you drive like a fucking asshole, bitch. <b>DENIED</b>.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Or I've had to log various incident reports from the rec centres, where young men (what is it with MEN, all-fuckin-ready? Y'all need to GROW UP as a gender, for realz) sneak into the facility without paying and then, when confronted by the staff, call the employees "faggot" and throw basketballs at their head with force enough to injure.<br /><br />So, yeah, the crippling stupidity/ignorance/general dipshittery of the public continues unabated.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">What has dismayed me profoundly over the last month or so is the same behaviour exhibited by one of the adjusters in my office. I call her The Oscillating Fan, because she is prone to standing around and yapping inexorably about nothing of any substance. It's really just air. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">This woman is so fucking annoying that I have had to rescue other adjusters from her endless monologues. I am famous on the floor for inventing reasons for going into the offices of these hapless victims in order to get her to move onto someone else's office (because she rarely goes back to her own). I will even go back to my desk and phone the adjusters, posing as a claimant, just so they have an excuse to get rid of her. (I will say, however, that these other adjusters need to grab a pair and start telling OF in no uncertain terms to fuck right off. Mind you, there have been a few that tried and she just talks over them, so there's that, too.)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Part of the problem with OF is that she is about as thick as two planks nailed together. She simply doesn't (won't?) pick up on social cues. People can be avoiding eye contact, looking at their screen and answering in monosyllables, and she just carries on blabbing. She has come into my cubicle at noon hour (more than once) and seen me sitting there with headphones on and YouTube on my screen and food in my face. Does she pick up on the signal that I am ON A BREAK? NO. She still asks me to look shit up for her or whatever. And when I tell her, "Can this wait until 1:00 when my lunch is finished?", she gets this look on her face like a break is a novel concept. Clearly, I am there to serve, lunch hours be damned.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Unfortunately, my cubicle is directly across the hallway from her office, so I am able to hear exactly how much she shags the canine. And, believe me, if OF is gifted in anyway, it is her ability to avoid work. It is truly staggering how much time this woman devotes to personal concerns during work hours. Because at least if she she was talking to these other adjusters about work-related issues, it would be an easier pill to swallow. But, OF comes in (late--she's already been disciplined for leaving early), and immediately goes into Marianne Faithful's office to talk about the weekend, or her daughter (not surprisingly, OF is a helicopter parent), or her sister living with dementia, or dogshit.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">I cannot begin to surmise how many hours (no, literally, HOURS) OF has spend on the phone with another City department, talking about how one particular patron of the off-leash dog park she goes to doesn't pick up their dog's doodoo. I don't know how or why this issue requires hours of her attention, but it does, and when it is quiet in her office, she is usually texting her family on her cellphone. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Also, she is a passive-aggressive twat. A couple of weeks ago, she was on the phone doing some actual work on a file when Reception called to say that OF had unexpected clients who wanted to see her. Rather than interrupt her while OF was doing rare and genuine work, my colleague left a note on her desk, explaining the situation. OF stayed on the phone for another twenty minutes, and when she emerged from her office, she said, "Well, someone could have taken (a document) up to these people for me."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Fuck you. Do it your damned self. Are we supposed to read your tiny mind? I'm glad I can't, because I don't think I could handle that profound a void.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Of course, we complain. OF's lack of a work ethic is well-noted with her supervisors. And when her immediate supervisor (who absolutely rocks, she is lucky to work for so splendid a person) has chats with her about her behaviours, you can hear her screaming at him beyond the closed office door. It is truly appalling. Let me tell you, people, unless it is someone like the streetside preacher I've mentioned previously, I don't talk to anyone like that (without serious provocation). I seriously don't know how that bitch keeps her job.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">But it is completely demoralizing to work so hard and do the best we can, putting up with the steady levels of ignorance and shit from the public, and have to watch OF fuck the dog egregiously with no consequences. She makes the good bucks, she has a nice office with windows and a door (which she should use more often), and many other benefits as well. Meanwhile, I make considerably less, have an indoor cubicle with no door and work my whole entire ass off with civility and true dedication to supporting all of the adjusters (even the ones that need a good solid kick in the box with a frozen mukluk). And this bitch can't even respect the ONE HOUR I take for myself for lunch without interruption.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">I am reassured by my supervisor that there is a department meeting coming next month during which these concerns will be addressed, but I am not sanguine. OF is one of these people who thinks "I wonder who they're talking about" when allegations of fucking around are raised. And as we've seen, she has absolutely no respect for her boss. (This guy is so rockin' he deserves his own praise-worthy blog post. Serious.)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">It's like I said to a couple of the adjusters last week. In a department like ours, support and mutual respect goes so far in getting the work done and maintaining a harmonious workplace. Seriously, we're all just trying to help each other get home. But people like OF? They want to get there first, not to open the windows and get some food going for the rest of us. They just want to nab the best spot in front of the fireplace. </span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6346976966799971802.post-29913412848929005192017-07-13T21:02:00.001-06:002017-07-13T21:12:34.018-06:00White Douchebaggery<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Thanks for your patience, kids. It's been a while, I know, but the douchebaggery has been plentiful since I wrote last. It would be hard to encapsulate for you just how many examples of entitled fucking whining I've had to endure over the last month or so, so I'm not even going to try. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">No, I'm not going to describe the pinhead who is pounded outta shape because kids have been kicking soccer balls against her fence for years, so she wants us to replace it.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">And I'm not going to describe the obvious clusterfuckery of the privileged twat in a Lincoln Navigator who hit a traffic barricade, but thinks we're to blame for his shitty driving. I hope that ignorant pignut chokes on it when we charge him for the replacement of the barrier.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">And I'm sure you can all get behind my glee when I had to transcribe a phone call from some drunk cumsplat who dropped the F bomb every second word, and invited us to "CALL ME BACK, MOTHERFUCKERS!" I'm tellin' ya, that call made my whole day.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">No, I'm going to take a break from municipal douchebaggery to talk about White People Behaving Badly. It happens a lot, especially in relation to other people who are not white. White People just can't--as a rule--get their shit together. They either make assholes of themselves trying to show how inclusive and liberal they are, or they're just outright fucktards.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">One of my colleagues came to my desk a month ago around noon hour to ensure that I wasn't leaving the office. There was an anti-Islamic rally going on in the square in front of our building, you see, and she was concerned that in my quest for food that won't make my Nazi bastard bowel (named Klaus) punish me for eating, I would pick a fistfight with the slack-jawed biker dudes demonstrating against our Muslim brothers and sisters.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Cuz this is the kind of thing I am inclined to do. I've been seen challenging the dipshit streetside preacher who shows up at noon hour and yaps about how we're at war with God, and only Jesus can mediate on our behalf, but you can't bow down to Mecca twelve times a day or worship the Virgin Mary. This kind of shit just sets me off. I will just stand there in front of this prick with my middle finger upraised until he can't ignore me anymore, and then I will inform him that Muslims only bow to Mecca five times a day and that the Virgin is just the female face of God and that if he's going to spread hate about other faiths, he should get his facts straight.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">And then sometimes, I invite him to die in a fire. And I'm encouraged by the fact that I'm not the only one, that other (white) people also get all up in his hateful bidness on a regular basis.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">But most of the time, what I see are White People Behaving Badly. Like this anti-Islamic rally, for example. How deeply insecure and terrified do you have to be to go the trouble of organizing a rally about brown people? Sheesh. Get over your sorry racist selves.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">I have a couple of Islamic colleagues at work. One of them--I'll call her Fatima, cuz why not?--dropped by my desk the other day to tell me about her trip to the mountains the week before. She went with a couple of female friends, two of whom were wearing hijabs. At one of the region's very beautiful lakes, they encountered a (white) woman who was renting canoes and other unmotorized watercraft. Bambi fell all over herself trying to make Fatima and her friends feel welcome.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">She reassured them that everyone was welcome there and they were welcome to do whatever they felt was necessary (pray, I guess? Not eat pork by the lakeside? I dunno). I mean, I know her intentions were good, but Fatima said it was a little over the top. Like, mildly embarrassing.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">But at least her heart was in the right place.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Unlike the older woman at breakfast the following morning. This mature woman of a certain age was openly gawking at the Muslim ladies, especially the ones in their hijabs. And she didn't bother to lower her voice when she said to her male companion, "My god, they must be so hot!"</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Well, no, Mature White Woman With No Apparent Volume Control, they aren't. Because if you bothered to look at the world around you, you'd see that people in very warm countries know that it makes more sense to put on more clothes than fewer when the weather gets hot. They look at us stripping down to shorts and t-shirts and think, "Soon? You will be brown!" </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">But more to the point, honey, if you have questions or curiousity about other cultures, there are lots of places you can go to educate your damn self. You could, oh, I dunno, ASK ONE OF THEM. Because they'd much sooner you talk to them than about them. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">And if you're not curious and all you want to do is be a giant, pale douchebag, then you can deepthroat a cactus, mayonnaise monkey.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Grow up.</span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6346976966799971802.post-15318172458170459782017-05-31T21:27:00.002-06:002017-05-31T21:38:05.508-06:00The Verbal Dance<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">It's Wednesday. I'm only halfway through this week, but already, it's a long one. I've had to deal with a LOT of dumb. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Like, for example, the tuna taco who called to tell us that her fence was damaged by a "City obstacle". If you're like me, you're confused by that comment, because the fence is usually the obstacle. But no, this clueless cabbage went on to explain that there has been a "Road Closed" sawhorse in her back alley for two or three weeks and allegedly, someone ran into it yesterday, damaging her fence. She'd like us to fix it, because "...I have a dog that could get out and bite someone and I don't want to be responsible."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">As if that needed saying. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>Fuck off</b>.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Remember <i>M. stertore</i>, who wanted compensation for his time because he got lost on the way to the dump? His claim was denied, because there were no actual damages and the City isn't liable. If he went to the Sev and got wrong directions, would he sue 7/11? He was asked by the adjuster if he had consulted Google maps or his gps, and his response was that he is using a gps unit from when he worked at a local utilities company and couldn't download the most recent updates. This is a clear indication that he stole the gps unit from his former employer. Nevertheless, <i>M. stertore</i> has vowed to take this to "the highest level". The Mayor's Office? The Supreme Court of Canada? God? </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Bitch, ain't nobody got time for that. As Russell Peters would say, "Be a man." </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>Fuck off</b>.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Everybody's mad because no-one wants to take responsibility for anything, and they all wallow in vast ichorous cesspool of entitlement and ignorance as to how their local government operates. They scream and froth like mad dogs about fiscal responsibility until it's their shit that gets damaged, and then they expect us to dash off a sizeable cheque right fuckin' now.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Like the stunned bum fiddle who called me on my personal, direct line yesterday (<b>THE</b> cardinal offense, ladies and gentlemen) to tell me that she was involved in an incident on the bus earlier this month, and she was talking to her neighbour, who told her she could make a claim against the City and get compensation for the humiliation she endured. And she's asking for $10,000. The incident? The bus driver making out the report indicates that Bum Fiddle is a "heavy set woman of about 400 lbs" who was in a scooter. He notes she was not strapped in, although the safety straps were available. And as he turned the corner, Bum Fiddle tipped over.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Now, because I am myself a real bitch, the first thing that comes to my mind is, "Wow, how does a seated woman of that girth tip over???" However, I digress. The point is that Bum Fiddle was not injured by this incident in any physical way. We cannot put a price on her pride, she eschewed the safety devices provided to her, yet she feels absolutely confident in calling me up and asking for ten large without even going through a fucking lawyer.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>Fuck off</b>.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">And now, children, it's time for </span><br />
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<span style="color: red; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b><u>The Claim of the Week</u></b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">As all of you local folk know, we recently had some high winds. Lots of damage occurred. Tree branches fell on vehicles and into yards. It's true, a lot of City trees were involved. However, although we are a mighty municipality, we do not control the weather and we are not liable for the wind, and therefore, this is, in insurance terms, an Act of God. This is one of those situations in which you should be contacting your insurance companies. Because that is what they're for. It is simply astonishing how many people think this is an unreasonable suggestion. What do you pay that insurance company for, exactly? Is that a charitable donation? </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Anyway, the following is a letter from a claimant with what I would delicately describe as some anger management issues. She's upset by the wording in the acknowledgement letter she received about her tree branch claim. She writes:</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">"<b>To
whom it may concern...if in fact it concerns anybody.<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>Thanks
for the great letter from a city that really gives a SHIT!!!<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>It
was all put so very nicely..."I can go to my own insurance
company". Are you freaking kidding me?<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>It
isn't a surprise that the city of ********* takes NO RESPONSIBILITY. Next time
leave out the verbal dance and just tell me to FUCK OFF.*<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>Thanks
for NOTHING<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>**City
of Champions my ass!!!!!!</b>"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">This is after the acknowledgement letter. What the fuck is this bitch gonna do when we deny her???</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">* I excel at writing letters endorsing the combination of sex and travel and would welcome an opportunity to write the one this stench trench so richly deserves.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">**This is a reference to the City's slogan, which is fucking lame and based on when the hockey team here (don't get me started on professional sports) had a string of consecutive victories, but that was 30 years ago, and the ballcap brigade can't let it go. It's really pathetic.</span></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6346976966799971802.post-49882223381161623412017-05-25T21:14:00.001-06:002017-05-30T20:24:04.659-06:00Christ Almighty<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Monday was a holiday and I had Tuesday off, so this has been a short week for me.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">But short weeks don't mean I don't get the short end of the stick, as far as stupid claimants go. No, like ants at a picnic, they abound, crawling out of the woodwork by the thousands to spread their stupid all over the place. And, children, there isn't a can of Raid big enough or powerful enough to stop these fucking titwanks from phoning or faxing their demands for compensation for things that really don't concern the local government.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">For example, some enraged dumb shit (sp. <i>Muta stercore</i>) called today, complaining that he had called another department of the City that is usually accessed by people who want to complain about the douchebag preacher on the street corner (ooh, don't get me started), or their neighbour parked his trailer on their lawn or there's a rotten tree on City property. You know, stupid crap that the cops can't or won't deal with.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><i>M. stercore</i> was seeking directions to the recycling centre (we have several), and called the complaint line for said directions, which--not surprisingly--turned out to be incorrect. Go figure. Oh, he could have used Google, but did he? No. He might have consulted a City map. But he did not. Essentially, he called Dear Abby to ask her where the hardware store is.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">But does this stop <i>M. stercore</i> from having a pissy hissy fit? Of course not. Instead, he calls our IVR system to leave his claim, and tells us that he expects to be compensated for his wasted trip, carefully itemizing two people at $30 per hour ("That's sixty bucks"--no shit, Sherlock), and a 45 minute trip ("That's fifty bucks"--wait! What?) and ten bucks worth of gas (in 45 minutes? What the fuck were you driving? a 747???).</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">And it's not like we're going to entertain this kind of claim anyway, so <i>M. stercore</i> can piss up a rope. We don't pay dumb shits because they get lost and don't consult a fucking map.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">In a similar vein, kids, it's time for</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<b><u><span style="color: red; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">The Claim Of the Week</span></u></b><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Crazy Twat (sp.<i> Insanus vaginitis</i>) submits a claim this week, explaining that she wants the City to pay her $29.81 because she missed the bus, was late for work, missed a meeting with a client and had to take a cab to work. Because apparently, she just couldn't wait the fifteen minutes for the next bus.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Well, thanks for trying, <i>I. vaginitus</i>, but we're gonna give this one a pass, if it's all the same to you. Next time, leave the house a little earlier and take some personal responsibility for your choices.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Oh, and fuck off while you're at it.</span><br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6346976966799971802.post-78917110902452554892017-05-16T19:43:00.003-06:002017-05-30T20:24:26.620-06:00Slip Slidin' Away<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Are we seated comfortably? Then we shall begin.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Oh, my children, the post I have for you today will bugger your mind. Go get yourself a nice snack and something to drink, make sure you have no distractions and indulge yourself with this most recent account of<br /><br /><b><span style="color: red;"><u>The Claim Of the Week</u></span></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">A woman submitted a claim, asking the City to compensate her for a new pair of pants. These were very special pants. These pants were suggested to her as a way of dealing with her "postpartum dystasis". For those of you not familiar with this, it is a medical term that describes what happens when a woman bears down with extraordinary pressure while giving birth and essentially shits out her own asshole. She extrudes her butt. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Now, because I am a douche and an uncharitable person myself, this is blogworthy all on its own. But, no, it gets better!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">You see, this woman tore these expensive pants on a nail that was sticking out of the top of a children's slide at one of our large parks.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Which, of course, begs the question, "If your asshole is hanging out of your asshole, what the actual fuck were you doing on a <b><i>slide</i></b>?"</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Frankly, the visuals are just too much for me to handle. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">And there's more!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">This morning, she got a hold of the adjuster in charge of the file to ask some questions, all of it information contained in the acknowledgement letter we send out when opening a claim. So the adjuster asked her, "Did you receive our acknowledgement letter?"</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">"Yes," said the woman, "but I didn't really look at it."<br /><br />{Ed note: <span style="color: red;"><b>Fuck you, bitch. Eat a bag of dicks</b></span>.}</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">"Were you able to get photos of your pants?" the adjuster asked.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">And the woman's response was--and I swear I am <b>not</b> making this up--"No, because my bottom was hanging out."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">I would like to feel sorry for these people, but they make it really hard.</span></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6346976966799971802.post-44795266452710723672017-05-10T22:17:00.001-06:002017-05-30T20:23:50.004-06:00This Ain't No Tickle Trunk<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Mostly I intend to blog once a week when I have time, but this week, I have to confess, I'm really struggling. This month, I am on the rotation in which my tasks require me to interact with all the reports and details that expose the inner douchebaggery of our fair municipality's citizenry. Looking at all that selfishness, stupidity and entitlement makes one feel really mucky, and this week, I am weighed down by the utter triviality of my job.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Today, I took a call from a claimant that sounded just like this:</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>Dink</b>: Hi, I'm submitting a claim...<br /><b>Me</b>: Uh-huh.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>Dink</b>: My car got towed because there was street cleaning and I didn't see the sign.<br /><b>Me</b>: (<i>silent eyeroll</i>) Uh-huh.<br /><br /><b>Dink</b>: And the tow truck damaged my car. It damaged my oil pan.<br /><b>Me</b>: I see.<br /><br /><b>Dink</b>: So, do you need photos of the oil pan?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>Me</b>: No, the bill from your repair shop is sufficient documentation.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>Dink</b>: You don't need pictures of the damage?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>Me</b>: No.The damage will be noted on your bill.<br /><br /><b>Dink</b>: Oh. Do you need pictures of the oil on the road?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>Me</b>:..........................</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Christ on a crutch, Dink--if I don't need photos of the actual damage, why the fuck would I want photos of oil blots on the road? Can you not process thought in a linear fashion? Just submit the fucking claim already. Dink.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">And yet, he wasn't even the worst burr under my saddle blanket this week. Yesterday, I was doing incident reports from the rec centres and I received three--count 'em!--THREE separate reports from three separate employees about the same incident involving urine on the toilet seat.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">It seems a rec centre employee noticed a young (teenaged) male patron pissing on the toilet seat in the men's room. The employee told the patron to clean it up, to which the patron replied with a familiar hand gesture and an invitation to the employee to enjoy sex and travel. Angry words were exchanged, which meant the involvement of two other employees and thus, children, I ended up having to read, save and archive three fucking reports about pee.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Now, on the plus side, it should be noted that *I* personally did not have to deal with either the patron or the piss, but I nevertheless have had one of those weeks in which I have had difficulty finding my work meaningful. Instead of writing a fucking useless incident report about this, I would have summoned Security and had that young pig removed from the facility with a two week ban imposed.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Because natural consequences, people.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Out of nearly forty incident reports, there were about a dozen thefts, mostly reported by people stupid enough to leave their wallets, shoes and phones on the floor of the change room in duffle bags. An elderly couple bitched and whined and felt singled as victims of ageism because the lifeguard on duty asked Ancient Vagina if she was feeling alright, since she had been in the hot tub for half an hour. Yanno, these elderly assholes would be the first ones to moan that there isn't adequate supervision at our facilities if Grandma had had a fainting spell. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">No, only one of those incident reports was of any significance at all. And it was a doozy. A rec centre employee noticed two people in the parking lot next to a vehicle. One of the people was choking the other, and forced the victim into the trunk of the car, and closed the lid. Then the choker allegedly stood around for a few moments until another car pulled up, and two people got out. At this point, the choker opened the trunk and the chokee got out, and was--the report says--not agitated.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Therefore, the rec centre employee chose <i>not</i> to summon the police. Probably not the decision I would have made, but what the hell do I know?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Only that it fills me with the kind of dismay that makes me sag on my spine to share the planet with people this fucking stupid, brutal and ignorant. People who think that it's okay to urinate on a public toilet seat and then verbally assault someone who objects. People who choke other people and put them in the trunks of cars. Douchenozzles who masturbate in saunas and others who take a swing at a woman who wants in the hot tub, but he's too busy massaging his leg on the water jet to move out of her way. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">And, the final straw that makes me want off the planet?</span><br />
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<a href="http://horsenetwork.com/2017/03/welcome-world-competitive-hobbyhorse/" target="_blank"><b><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">THIS</span></b></a><br />
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<b><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">FUCK EARTH.</span></b></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6346976966799971802.post-84951753443177162442017-05-08T21:11:00.000-06:002017-05-30T20:25:04.246-06:00Bus Stawp<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>WARNING</b>: <i><u>This post contains graphic content. And I don't just mean my usual swearing. I mean there might be material in this post that upsets some of you. You've been warned.</u></i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Listen, I know I'm an elitist snob. I know I live in enormous privilege, although I do try to be aware of this and grateful. I know also that I am a misanthropist, and this combination of people hating and privilege means that there are just certain things I avoid doing entirely. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Like riding public transit. As mentioned in my previous post about the <a href="http://douchebaggeryabounds.blogspot.ca/?zx=a9c886a4f483df5b" target="_blank">rec centres</a>, if a large number of the public are expected to be in attendance, I just avoid doing it. And although it would be better for the planet environmentally if I hopped the Shame Train, I won't. At least, not daily.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Another part of my job is reading the bus reports that come in from the transit authority and either archiving them or assigning them to be opened as claims. The bus drivers report everything. I mean, <b>everything</b>, from collisions to when some dumb fuck stumbles getting off the bus and does a lipstand on the sidewalk (I am an unpleasant person, obviously, because I LOVE reading those ones). Clearly, taking public transit on any kind of consistent basis is just asking to be exposed some variety of dipshittery. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">One of the worst routes is the Number Eight, or as my friend, The Widow, calls it, "the Ocho". The Ocho is so rife with shitty behaviour that she was for awhile considering a blog called, "Riding the Ocho", a compendium of all the crap she saw while traversing the City on this route. (It is still one my great disappointments that this blog never materialized.)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">So, what does one see on the bus? Motor vehicle collisions are common. No, I lie--they are <i>frequent</i>. I don't know how one can miss a large 20 ft long vehicle that chuffs and farts like a fat guy after too long at the buffet, but at least twice a week some ditch donkey tries to cut the bus off and clips the bumper or rearends one while it's stopped. And this is not during the winter, children! This is when driving conditions are dry and clear.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">One of the biggest complaints we get are about these inadequate dipshits in oversized pickups (usually called something ridiculous like "Titan" or "Avalanche"--oh, the fragile male ego! These are probably the same primates who get their hair cut at Tommy Gun's) who bomb past the bus and clip the bus's mirror with their own. And they don't stop! They just keep driving!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Still these are all usually pretty minor incidents and typically don't result in very much damage (to the bus) or injuries. It's actually riding the bus that you'll find the most disturbing/disgusting/unbelievable crap. I mean, you can take that literally, if you like--there is plenty of pant-shitting on the bus, to be sure. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">And let's not forget the young girls who spit on the bus. Right in the aisle!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Perhaps one of the most revolting incidents I read about was this one: a young guy was half asleep on his way home. He was careful to note in the incident report that he was wearing an expensive Perry Ellis coat and hoodie. He even noted the monetary value of each. So there he was, blissfully snoozing his way home from the office when the chick in the seat behind him barfed all over him, thereby ruining his clothes. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Poor bugger. There's not much we can do for him in that case, I mean we're hardly liable for the actions of Barf Babe, but he has my sympathies. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">It's shit like this that keeps me off the Loser Cruiser.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">While disgusting/funny, that incident was one in which--again--no permanent damage to anyone was done. I wish it was always so, but lately in our City, it has become a "thing" to assault the bus drivers. And I don't just mean slap them in the back of the head as you alight out the front door, either. No. I mean that a couple of times in the recent past, some troglodyte has beaten the bus driver to the point where one will never work at anything in his life ever again. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">But perhaps the most heartbreaking incident regarding public transit I can relate is the story of a young man who, according to the transit security videos, spent the better portion of the morning riding the train back and forth from the north to the southside. He never exhibited any agitation or aggression, or anything unusual at all. He just showed up on the camera several times changing cars, etc.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Then, at one point, he deboarded the train and seemed to loiter a bit on the platform. He checked his phone, but again, appeared calm and composed. While the train waited to take on passengers for the trip further south, the young man approached the edge of the platform and sat down on the edge, his legs dangling over. After a moment, he hopped down onto the track in between the two cars. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">And there, he waited patiently for another few seconds until the train left the station. He was immediately caught between the second car and the platform, which forced him to turn front-to-back, back-to-front for the entire length of the car until the operator realized what had happened and stopped the train immediately.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">By that time, of course, the damage was done. The young man was virtually cut in half. Surprisingly, he survived somehow for two days following the accident. He was 16 years old, and in the two days before he died, no-one came forward to report their son missing.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">And yes, I saw the video.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><u><span style="color: red;">CLAIM OF THE WEEK</span></u>:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Well, after that, I think we need a little something to lighten the mood, don't you?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">The Claim this week comes from the Transit Files and concerns a claimant who is so fucking stupid, she failed the stool test. This walking, talking synapse-free zone submitted a claim complaining that she fell on the bus after it moved forward suddenly. Happily in this instance, we had video from inside the bus that shows the vehicle to be perfectly stationary the whole time. What really happened was that Brain-Stem-Not-Attached wasn't paying attention to where she was putting her ass, and she missed the seat COMPLETELY. Instead she went down heavily in the aisle. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">But she still wants us to pay for her physio. Even though he damage is self-inflicted. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">I hate people.</span><br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6346976966799971802.post-39269295121123909682017-04-23T11:03:00.002-06:002017-04-23T19:13:23.392-06:00Wreck Centre (or The Poo In the Pool)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Part of my job is reading and archiving incident reports submitted by employees at the various recreation centres and pools and arenas owned and maintained by the Municipality. First, let me say that the personnel employed at these facilities don't make enough money for the level of douchebaggery they endure. Every. Single. Day. They are all my personal heroes.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Secondly, I don't go to to the rec centres anymore as a private citizen. I simply know too much about what happens there. Some of the rec centres are worse than others (local peeps can ask me privately which ones). </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">As far as I'm concerned, though, the hot tubs are really just giant petrie dishes. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Theft is common. Douchebags bring bolt cutters into the change rooms so they can bypass padlocks and jack your shit. And we can't put cameras in the change rooms, so we really have no way of catching them. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">If I read one incident report about abusive patrons, I read a dozen. Weekly. Most of the time, it's men who violate a rule, like over-extending their stay on the exercise equipment when other people are waiting to use it. Or letting their family of five use all of three of the badminton courts. All y'all really need to get your shit together when it comes to pubic behaviour. Why do you have to be such huge buttnuggets on such a consistent basis? So much hostility! When confronted with his self-indulgence, one of these dicksmacks insisted that he is a "Canadian citizen" and that he "paid to be here and has the right to do whatever he fucking wants." People say shit like this and I wonder if they can actually hear themselves. I mean, that statement offers us insight into the working of that guy's mind that reveals a disturbingly high level of douchebaggery.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">And he is hardly an isolated incident.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">People shoot up in the change rooms.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">They canoodle in the family room.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Guys masturbate in the saunas. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">And, of course, there is the famous Poo In the Pool.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">If there is a "fecal incident", it's usually the product of a child. And yanno what happens when there is a dump in the deep end? </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Well, let me inform you first that the pool is NOT drained. Patrons are required to leave the facility, the poo is removed and the pool is closed for about 48 hours, while skin-blistering levels of chlorine and other chemicals are cycled through the system in order to destroy any pathogens or contaminates. After extensive and repeated testing, the pool is reopened to the public. But the water in the pool following a fecal incident is never actually replaced or removed.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">I'm sure it's perfectly safe, since our Municipality had exactly ZERO deaths from cholera last year, but I'm afraid I am completely off the idea of public facilities. It's a matter of knowing too much. People gathered in any significant number only means heightened potential for douchebaggery. <b>Some</b> asshole is going to pull <b>something</b>.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">And let me just say also that one really ought to pay attention to the signs in the rec centres which inform you that you enter at your own risk and that the City is not responsible for your lost or stolen belongings. Because we're not kidding. We really are not responsible. Do not, as one twonk did, wear your prescription glasses into the sauna (????) and then submit a claim to me later, saying you want us to pay for their replacement after they slipped off your face and broke. That claim isn't just "No", it's "HELL NO". </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Because we're not responsible for your (stupid) personal choices. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Speaking of people not taking responsibility for their own douchebaggery, here is my first installment of a new feature I'll call<br /><br /><b style="text-decoration-line: underline;"><span style="color: red;">CLAIM OF THE WEEK</span></b><br /><br />Oh, my children, this is delicious. It was looking like a pretty average week until this one appeared on my desk. Due to confidentiality, I can't disclose names or locations, and will paraphrase what appeared in the statement, but this is GOLD.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Buddy has submitted a claim to the City seeking compensation for injuries and damages sustained in an altercation with the City Police. It seems Buddy was jaywalking. In his claim, he states that he does it all the time at this location, but "I had no idea that the cops were cracking down at this time, or I would have been happy to use the crosswalk." He further goes on to say that he was intoxicated and on his way to the local blues club (which, I will add here just as a matter of interest, is run by the local chapter of the Hell's Angels). He describes how, when the officers ordered him to stop, he took off, but "there was nowhere for me to go, so they tackled me to the ground." During the scuffle, he sustained (superficial) injuries to his face and elbow, although he is claiming concussion. Buddy feels this could have been handled in a "less confrontational manner" because "cops should know better than to confront intoxicated people."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Oh, and he submitted the claim on his company letterhead. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">I don't even know where to start with this. From beginning to end, this claim is just a torrent of DOUCHE. First, this weaselheaded fucknugget incriminates himself by admitting to the infraction of a jaywalking bylaw on a more or less habitual basis. He then confesses to public intoxication and admits that he attempted to elude the officers in the lawful execution of their duty.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">But it's their fault because he was drunk.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">So yanno what happens to this frivolous claim? I hand it to my supervisor, who assigns it to an adjuster who specializes in bodily injury claims. A claim will be opened and Buddy sent an acknowledgement letter that essentially says, "We got your complaint, you whiny bitch". The City Police are put on notice by our office. An investigation will follow, inquiries sent for police reports and medical reports, and Buddy will be required to fill out a variety of forms. All of this requires time and resources and it will, I assure you, inevitably end in denying him money because <b>this is a frivolous claim</b>. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">And who pays for this? <b>YOU DO</b>. These are your City tax dollars at work, people. It's a very sad thing that we can't just send this dick a letter that says, "Plzdiekthx!" No, this cumsplat has the same rights as you and I to waste my time and your money, even though the only reason this stupid fuck is still alive is because breathing is an involuntary response. He's butthurt because he made an unwise life decision to outrun the cops. And you are going to pay for his butthurt.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Aint it great?</span><br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6346976966799971802.post-65559854177739765472017-04-13T20:16:00.002-06:002017-04-13T20:16:37.785-06:00The Return of Douchebaggery Abounds<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I know it's been awhile. I'm sorry. And I'm even sorrier that I'm apologizing for an extended absence from this blog while living my goddamned life. <br /><br />But possibly what I am sorriest of all about is the absolutely astronomical levels of douchebaggery to which I have been exposed over the last while. <b>SO MUCH DOUCHE</b>. So much douche, in fact, that the overwhelming stench of vinegar, water, and cheap latex has driven me back to blogging. After more than a year's sabbatical, I have come back to dump my outrage and vitriol, inspired by the anal sacs with whom I share this benighted little planet.<br /><br />I don't even know where to start. Do I start on a global level, at the top with Trump and his Gestapo? Cuz that certainly has set the tone. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Or maybe I aim a little closer to home, where Canadians with the least in terms of critical analysis fret about Sharia Law and sit around in their ballcaps and hoodies, quaffing Molson's while listening to Nickelback and reminiscing about a (whiter) Canada that never really existed?<br /><br />Or do I make it even more personal, with stories about the brainless, entitled shitsacks with whom I am forced to interact because I need to eat? I know it is the height of First World Problems to bitch and whine about office work, but seriously--I have lost any sense of investment in the continuation of my species. I swear to God, if there was a vaccine for stupid, there'd be a handful of people left. And if there was another vaccine for douchebaggery, well, then, my friends, the cockroaches would have it all to themselves. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Listen, I know there are (a few) good things about people. But who cares? I'm not here to sit around singing, "Kumbaya" and emitting a beam of hope in the douchey darkness that surrounds us. No. This blog is not called, "People Are Fantastic". Cuz, fuck me with a stick, they are not. I am, at this point, convinced that we are <b>all</b> a bunch of narcissistic twonks, and the people we approve of just happen to be twonks on the same frequency. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I have no doubt that I will eventually get around to Trump-bashing like (most of) the rest of the world, but all of you can see that shit for yourselves just about anywhere you look. And it doesn't matter where you live in Canada--all you have to do is look and you will find some dillhole in his Titan with the flag from his favourite hockey team fluttering from the cab window, driving home where he can repost racist proganganda on Facebook about how Syrian refugees make more money than pensioners. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">You might have to look a little harder right now, is all, because the playoff season just started, and all the "hosers" are busy worshiping at the altar in their local watering holes.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">So for now, I'm going to focus on the things you don't get to see. Stories from my workplace. I work for a largish municipality in the department that deals with members of the public who feel that they have a grievance with the city. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">For example, maybe they've hit a pothole and blown out their axle or their oil pan because their Audi hit this motherfucking crater at 70 kms per hour in a fifty zone. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Or maybe their basements are under two or three inches of shitwater because they've experienced a sewer back up due to the tree roots on their side of the property choking the lines, but they never bother to auger down there because it's just easier to wait for something like a sewer back up to happen. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Or maybe they collided with an emergency vehicle in full emergency mode with all of its lights and sirens going. Cuz there r kewt kitties on ur fone and wtf, it's not like driving a three tonne engine of death requires you to pay attention or anything, you witless cocksplat.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">All of this probably seems a bit mundane. And you're right--it is. Potholes and sewer back ups and collisions by themselves aren't all that exciting. But because John and Jill Q. Public are involved, I end up with a <b>LOT</b> of blogworthy material. </span><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I have endless material, really. Every day is a new revelation. Just when I think I have plumbed the depths of human stupidity, selfishness and entitlement, something happens at work and I am awestruck anew. So since there is really no end of these appalling stories, I will leave you for now with this one...</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Last fall, I received a Statement of Damage form from a claimant who wanted the City to pay for her dry cleaning bill. Why? Because she sat in birdshit.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Now, obviously our department deals with issues of liability, which is a fancy insurance/law word for "Whose fucking fault is this?" Obviously this pinhead feels it is the City's fault that she sat where a bird shat. And somehow, she seemed to think that the City should just be handing out cheques to every citizen with shitty drawers! And accepting liability for everything! Fuck fiscal responsibility when there is poop on your pants! </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Why exactly this fucknugget felt that we should accept liability for birds dumping is beyond me. And how do you prove liability in a case like that? What are we supposed to do to address this issue? Do we f</span><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">ollow along behind her with a high pressure hose, blasting birds and their feces off her favourite seats? </span><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Chase down every fucking bird in the downtown core and interrogate it until it admitted to shitting on her bench? </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><i>"C'mon, pigeon! Fess up! We know it was you!"<br />"It wasn't, Joey, I swear! Look at it! That's magpie shit if I've ever seen it!"</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">No, she actually expected us to take her at her word and just issue her a friggin' cheque to cover the cleaning bill because this dim cockwomble lacks the personal responsibility to look before she sits down. By her reasoning, we're liable, because she's fucking stupid. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">And she's just one douchebag in thousands.</span><br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6346976966799971802.post-76487503486581152032015-10-12T14:26:00.000-06:002015-10-12T14:31:27.582-06:00The Rocks Stars of My Fucked-Up Office<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">In my new department, I no longer work with lawyers. I now work with insurance adjusters. I don't know anything about insurance adjusters, other than that I don't want to be one for a living. And the ones I work with are really interesting individuals. You can decide for yourself how to interpret that after you've read my descriptions of them.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Let's begin with <strong>Bananarama</strong>. She is about my height and weight (i.e. a little short for a Russian shot-putter, but lots to hold onto). She is also about my age, which means she must have left high school in the early to mid-eighties. And looking at her, you'd think she was still there. Bananarama's do hasn't changed one single hair since she graduated. I swear. She has the biggest bangs of anyone on the floor. Hell, on <em>any</em> of the ten floors of the building we work in. No word of a lie, Bananarama's bangs look like this:</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIXj_HW863zk41-nUIHtQPqr3_RXuiG4puQDhlmlaxHf27Em7c75BAuWrpc4FOLomk2ZK5_kCn9LeN4ituh65mcI54D37KHJZxoMrpvHgXUBFYBYrOQhBI9WTnEhS8_oZvt9rjqOneAiA/s1600/bangs.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><img alt="" border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIXj_HW863zk41-nUIHtQPqr3_RXuiG4puQDhlmlaxHf27Em7c75BAuWrpc4FOLomk2ZK5_kCn9LeN4ituh65mcI54D37KHJZxoMrpvHgXUBFYBYrOQhBI9WTnEhS8_oZvt9rjqOneAiA/s320/bangs.jpg" title="How much product went into the maintenance of this hair? Goodbye, ozone!" width="217" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><em>Goddesses on a mountaintop...</em></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"></span><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Every single time, this woman hoves into view, my brain starts playing the best fucking '80s soundtrack you've ever heard. I just have to hear her voice around the corner, and I am suddenly wearing parachute pants and sipping on a Canadian Cooler to the sound of Frankie Goes To Hollywoods' "Relax".</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">But Bananarama is not the only rock star in my department. Another of the adjustors is a woman who's age is difficult to ascertain because she's been ridden hard and put away wet for the better part of at least one decade. She's painfully thin and inclined to wear boots and shoes with impossibly high heels. She walks like Pan, and I swear her hip is going to dislocate outside my Hovel one day. Half of me is convinced that I am working with none other than <strong>Marianne Fucking Faithfull</strong>.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyfLIsYWRqoYcYhbrv7WpBbQPcAeu5YtvA6T5prtoF8lR82gtrQqb2OYtI2g_vlxlW1YMdNJJ57L7i9JAWZ58VoOHNBQpbz2BMtJa4jftJmdx3iAEShhyX3GAgBQXKT60BJpE58R_g1GM/s1600/marianne.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><img alt="" border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyfLIsYWRqoYcYhbrv7WpBbQPcAeu5YtvA6T5prtoF8lR82gtrQqb2OYtI2g_vlxlW1YMdNJJ57L7i9JAWZ58VoOHNBQpbz2BMtJa4jftJmdx3iAEShhyX3GAgBQXKT60BJpE58R_g1GM/s320/marianne.jpg" title="Marianne Faithfull's Broken English--if you have't heard this album, you're missing out." width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><em>Why'd ya do it, she said. Why'd ya let her suck yer cock?</em></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">The resemblance is fucking uncanny. Her voice is the same strange blend of nasal and whisky-throated roughness, she speaks cynically and as if maybe she's got a flask in her desk. The only thing missing is the English accent. I keep hoping one day she'll come to my Hovel, spark up a cig, lean against the temporary wall and say, "I can't believe people are still bangin' on about me and Mick and that fuckin' Mars bar. It was a fuckin' lie, and even if it wasn't--but it was, love, a rotten fuckin' lie--it was forty years ago."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">And then maybe she'll gift me with a version of "The Ballad of Lucy Jordon". Marianne won't have anything to do with me, but I think that's because she knows I'm onto her. I don't take it personally; it's our little secret.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">So far, my interactions with everyone in my department have been pleasant on a personal level. However, it is amazing to me how much people give away that is inappropriate and they don't seem to realize it.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">For example, the department is somewhat short-staffed (hence, my secondment), so a new adjuster was hired. I'll call her Ruby. Ruby is awesome. She works across from me and is thus far, a most welcome addition to the team. I hope she stays. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">But the day before Ruby was scheduled to start, one of the other adjusters mentioned to someone else that she knew Ruby from another department of the City.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">"And just so you don't freak out," said the adjuster, "Ruby's black."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">This comment fell down between the adjuster and her conversant like a choking victim. The clerk to whom the adjuster was speaking was horrified and not sure how to respond--meanwhile the comment lay there thrashing. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Finally, the clerk said, "Oh. Okay." And then, "You know other black people work in Law, don't you?"</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><em>*choke* *gasp*</em></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">"They do?" said the adjuster, with genuine surprise. "I didn't know that."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Apparently, this adjuster never goes to the ninth floor.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">And finally, still another of the adjusters engaged me in conversation about two weeks ago. The subject of Asians arose. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">This adjuster said to me (and I quote), "I don't call them Asians. I call them Orientals, because Asian is too broad a term."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I was so stunned, I didn't know what to say. I mean, I thought of several comments after the fact, but is it actually my job to educate these people? I question whether it is really *my* place to confront this woman with her ignorance. Is it really worth it to say, "Honey, you're mistaken. Oriental can indicate anyone east of the Ukraine and out past the Pacific Rim right to the Pacific, but Asian is usually restricted to a handful of nations in the farthest east."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I dunno. Because an older, middle-class white woman who uses the word "Oriental" will probably not hesitate to use the word "lezbo", either.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">In brief, these are some of the people in my department.</span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6346976966799971802.post-60642320782008909922015-10-07T19:25:00.004-06:002017-05-30T20:25:45.554-06:00Not Mine<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">I'm off to an appointment in a little while so I don't have a lot of time to write (and, yes, I will get back to my European adventures), but I'm kind of on a roll with work, so I'm just gonna leave this here for your august consideration.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">I do not work in Bylaw, but it is a department we deal with from time to time. The story I am about to tell you is true (and a matter of public record, by the way). It is a golden example of why I hate people as a species. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">As if Stephen Harper and the Conservative Party of Canada (also criminals) aren't reason enough.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Anyway, our Municipal Prosecutor appeared in Court not long ago on a case of Public Drunkenness and Mischief. The accused took the stand, and the M.P. began to question him.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><strong>M.P.</strong> : Sir, you have been charged with urinating in public.<br /><strong>Dick Bagg</strong>: I didn't do it.<br /><strong>M.P.</strong> : Sir, Officers Coffee and Doughnut both have sworn testimony that they saw you alone in the alleyway. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><strong>Dick Bagg</strong>: That's right.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><strong>M.P.</strong> : They also state that they saw your penis with urine coming from it.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><strong>Dick Bagg</strong>: Not my penis.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><em>These</em> are the people I deal with, mostly from a safe distance.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><strong>Coming soon</strong>: <em>The People I Work With</em>.</span><br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6346976966799971802.post-59048669605871258982015-10-06T23:00:00.000-06:002015-10-07T19:10:11.610-06:00Reception Hell<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">For about a year-and-a-half, I haven't had to post about the frustrations of my employment--once a daily feature of this blog--because I enjoyed where I was. I worked at the city Law Branch in the Expropriation Department. Some of you may not know what Expropriation Law is. Essentially, when the City wants to build an LRT line or a really retarded arena for hockey jerk offs, and your house is in the way, we expropriate it. We pay you fair market value for the house and property, pay your legal bills. The City will even pay for your move. The work was dull, but I adored the seven lawyers I worked with and considered myself lucky to be in a stable, busy, productive environment. It was also gorgeous insulation from the petty madness and rampant sense of entitlement that typifies the General Public.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Upon my return from the U.K., I was reassigned to a different department. For three weeks, I've been working with that arm of the Law Branch that deals with brain-dead fucktards who think that the City owes them money because their snow shovel broke while they were shoveling. Or who take exception to the fact that City trees shed seeds or leaves onto their lawn, therefore the City should remove said seeds and leaves. When I first started in Law, I enjoyed my time in criminal law, and my new position is similar in that it allows me to marvel at the many, many ways in which people repeatedly make Poor Life Choices ("By all means, Repeat Offender, beat that cop car with a baseball bat! Kick in that window!"). More and more, I think a good portion of humanity should not be left unsupervised.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I would be okay with my work if it meant I only processed the claims submitted to us and could remain at arm's length from the Body Public. Unfortunately, one of my duties is to occasionally fill in on Reception/Switchboard. This was not mentioned to me when the new position was offered. Had anyone even breathed the word "Reception", I would have declined. That's a deal breaker. And I have been very honest and upfront with everyone (supervisors, et al.) regarding my feelings about Reception. I have explicitly said that this is Not A Good Idea. I don't deal with whining or attitude in a constructive manner, I'm too old to give a shit anymore and I hate people. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">My first experience on Reception yesterday only reinforced my conviction that this is a perfectly reasonable response to dealing with the public. I spoke to probably a dozen people who are only alive because breathing is an involuntary process. If these people ever had brains, they have since dried up through inactivity and now rattle around in the brainpans of their owners like bb pellets in an old coffee can.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Time and space do not permit me to enumerate all of the paralyzing stupidity I encountered yesterday, but Stupid Broad #1 went thus:<br /><br /><b>SB#1</b> : Hello, I want to stay married to this man even if he does not come here.<br /><b>Me</b>: I'm sorry, what?<br /><b>SB#1</b> : My husband, he is coming here, but I don't know and I still want to be married to him. (sniffles) I'm sorry I am crying so much now.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>Me</b>: (<i>after significant pause, cuz I dunno what the fuck</i>) Ma'am, we are a Municipal Law Office. Your issue sounds like Immigration. That is a federal concern.<br /><b>SB#1</b> : You are Law.<br /><b>Me</b>: Ma'am, if you have a parking ticket, I can help you out. Otherwise, I'm going to give you the number to the Law Courts up the street, okay?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I was amazed by the lack of accent attached to that call, by the way.<br /><br />The kicker though, was Ancient Vagina. Ancient Vagina called three times yesterday, and was by turns rude, petulant and stunned. She had sand in her vag because she had received correspondence from our office (two weeks ago) that we needed documents from her due yesterday. And she wasn't able to speak to her adjuster, because said adjuster was away from the office. And, of course, no other adjuster would do. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">It was pretty clear that Ancient Vagina had spent about four centuries honing her douchebaggery to a very fine skill. And when I tried to help the old bat by asking her for the claim number, she started to give me Old Lady Attitude. But I was having none of it. I don't get paid enough to put up with that shit.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">She was desperately unpleasant (although she mostly backed down when challenged, I still wanted to punch her in the throat so hard that her head would fall off), and later that afternoon, she appeared upstairs at the office door. This is a secure office and there are notices posted all over the joint that visitors are to report to Reception on the floor below (where she would have encountered <strong>ME</strong>). But no--Ancient Vagina slid her document under the door and <em>waited</em>. Eventually, one of the clerks sent her away.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Today, Ancient Vagina phoned her adjuster and got *<i>her</i>* so riled up that we heard the adjuster yelling at her across the floor. I never raised my voice to Ancient Vagina, so I guess I did pretty well.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">But when my supervisor asked me how it went on Reception, I flatly said, "I hate it."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">More to come, kids. It's an interesting office.</span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6346976966799971802.post-80199989454381405062015-10-02T20:41:00.003-06:002015-10-02T20:41:54.437-06:00Another Quickie<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Also from the Tuileries...The Hokey Pokey.</span><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMDHhuNXPWnJULkUR3eOp45uGeO9tEiULp1evO9BKSqnmTrSoQgU5p89uK19EiyeSZDC_r7FRzcxG9r1LpxJIYFSj10c1OQsmV8HCVrNeKU-IotQTAChQ_GSh63RyUz1qsHA1fJBQlNLA/s1600/Hokey+Pokey+1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMDHhuNXPWnJULkUR3eOp45uGeO9tEiULp1evO9BKSqnmTrSoQgU5p89uK19EiyeSZDC_r7FRzcxG9r1LpxJIYFSj10c1OQsmV8HCVrNeKU-IotQTAChQ_GSh63RyUz1qsHA1fJBQlNLA/s320/Hokey+Pokey+1.JPG" title="Le Bon Samaritin by Sicard Francois (1862-1934), marble" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><em>"You put your right foot in...you put...no, you idiot, your *right* foot..!"</em></span></td></tr>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6346976966799971802.post-21217508918145478482015-10-01T19:19:00.002-06:002015-10-01T19:19:38.330-06:00A Quickie<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I don't have time for a full post, so I'll just leave you with this quickie.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I found some statuary in the Tuileries in Paris that amused.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Feel free to add your own caption in the comments.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiChsi_oBEy9zSoEZ5zwztrVtuB-8_vqmkpbFzc3Fm4B1OUNexXHSL75hwCHn2_LEs6hnhQ3eIrOD-IRxeGdHGnaS9dGY-Xmo96_9kUmnC-YjSByLNYzHXGaVmX8Tehw9yVQG-ZsA8mXVE/s1600/Nice+Out+1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><img alt="" border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiChsi_oBEy9zSoEZ5zwztrVtuB-8_vqmkpbFzc3Fm4B1OUNexXHSL75hwCHn2_LEs6hnhQ3eIrOD-IRxeGdHGnaS9dGY-Xmo96_9kUmnC-YjSByLNYzHXGaVmX8Tehw9yVQG-ZsA8mXVE/s320/Nice+Out+1.JPG" title="Cincinnatus by Denis Foyatier (1793 - 1863), marble" width="213" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"<span style="font-size: small;"><em>It's nice out.<br /><br />"Think I'll leave it out</em></span>."</td></tr>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6346976966799971802.post-49896537167818395332015-09-28T20:22:00.001-06:002017-05-30T20:28:05.001-06:00Paris!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<em><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">"<span style="color: magenta;">One night in Paris</span></span></em><br />
<em><span style="color: magenta; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Is like a year in any other place.<br />One night in Paris<br />Will wipe the smile off your pretty face.<br />One girl in Paris</span></em><br />
<em><span style="color: magenta; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Is like loving every woman.<br />One night in Paris</span></em><br />
<em><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="color: magenta;">May be your last</span>!"</span></em><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"> --10CC, "<em>Un nuit en Paris</em>", 1975</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Yanno all those things that people say about Paris being beautiful and enchanting and magical and romantic? They're true. I'm going to try and show you how and why.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">I learned something about myself on this trip, and that is that I apparently have a thing for sculpture. It became immediately apparent that if an object ever had contact with a chisel and mallet or was cast in bronze, I was going to photograph it. And not just once. No. I was going to document the fuck out of that sculpture. That's how I experienced Paris, through its plentiful sculpture, so be prepared to see this magnificent city through that particular lens. I'll try to make it entertaining for you. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">After resting from our exertions at the British Museum all day Tuesday, we flew out of Gatwick at 8:00 a.m. Wednesday morning. Stoo was a real <em>mensch</em> and got up at 5:00 to make sure we got to the airport in time. (To be fair, he may have wanted his house back for awhile. Can't blame him a bit.) We had breakfast at the Red Lion in the airport next to a group of Essex boys who were gleefully tossing down bitters at 7:15 a.m. Britain is truly a civilized nation.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Anyway, we get asked a lot why we didn't take the Chunnel, and the answer is that the Eurostar was both more expensive and took longer than the plane. The flight from London to Paris took less than an hour. Also, the train was delayed on the French side of the Chunnel for <em>fifteen hours</em> by Syrian refugees who had wandered onto the tracks. They had to shut all the electrical down in case the refugees climbed on top of the train, so the doors couldn't open. All of the passengers were trapped inside for all those hours, while officials figured out what to do with all those unfortunate refugees. A sad and frustrating situation all around.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: large;">"<em><span style="color: magenta;">Bonjour. Monsieur!<br />Paris really welcomes you,<br />It's the best room in the house...<br />... Forty-Two, Quarante-Deux<br />Rue de St-Jacques<br />All our girls are how you say,<br />Good in the sack</span></em>."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">We landed at Charles de Gaulle around 9:00 and took the train into central Paris, where we had booked a sweet flat in an 18th century building on rue Sommelard. The flat was conveniently located in the Latin Quarter a block away from the <em>Musee Cluny de Moyen</em> <em>Ages</em>. When we walked to the corner and looked up rue de St-Jacques, we could see the spire of Notre Dame just over Petit Pont a few blocks away. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivpcBGyINXW8_njwhX8ujKYaY1r1OVeKNi_EnvYoDwfXbdzO6pBs3DzDGW7-i4A3hiZ378r-Os6DyRNe1o5GexZtTDq9MyY5ZiSFY7JgyP6a8Aq0Nxo2BN4qecjQzfpsFeL04xmPviE7U/s1600/Spire+2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><img alt="" border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivpcBGyINXW8_njwhX8ujKYaY1r1OVeKNi_EnvYoDwfXbdzO6pBs3DzDGW7-i4A3hiZ378r-Os6DyRNe1o5GexZtTDq9MyY5ZiSFY7JgyP6a8Aq0Nxo2BN4qecjQzfpsFeL04xmPviE7U/s320/Spire+2.JPG" title="My first view of Notre Dame" width="213" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: small;"><em>Cathedral Notre Dame from Rue St. Gerard in the Fifth Arondissement</em></span><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"> </span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">We had lunch in a little Asian place offering sushi and<em> pho</em>. I ordered my meal successfully <em>en francais entirement</em>, and did not end up eating a rubber shoe sole with soy sauce and toasted sesame seeds (that's how I know I did it right). Also, I just need to say this: all those things you hear about les Parisiens being snotty assholes? <strong>NOT TRUE</strong>. They were really, really lovely. They were warm and welcoming and very hospitable to us. Now, that might be because we were trying really hard to use as much French as possible, but we did not encounter any <em>sac de douche francais</em> during our three days in Paris. Honest.</span><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"> </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Also? I was told by one of the serving staff at <span style="color: yellow;">Le </span></span></span><a href="http://www.louloufriendlydiner.com/en/" target="_blank"><span style="color: yellow; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Loulou Friendly Diner</span></a><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"> that she did not know I was not a native French speaker until my vocabulary ran out and I had to revert (reluctantly) to English. That is a point of pride to me. <em>Je parle le francais tres bien</em>. Woot.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Anyway, after lunch, we met our host at the flat and stowed our luggage. He gave us the run down on various things to see, where to get the freshest croissants and warned us about the "Roma children".</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">"Beware of zem," he said, and although I brushed it off then, it was to become significant later on.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">In the meantime, adventures were to be had. We were still tired from the British Museum the day before and having to be up at crow piss to catch the plane to Paris, so we took a bus tour of the city to get the lay of the land. I didn't get very many photos during the bus trip--the angles were all off, and I really just wanted to be in the moment. Also, I fell asleep. <strong>BUT</strong>! I will say that while the Champs-Elysee is not much more than a noisy boulevard full of cars and posh restaurants and shops, it was deeply moving to reflect on the fact that it was up that street that Hitler rode when he invaded Paris. One could still see in one's mind the thousands of Parisiens watching that motorcade go by and thinking, "What the fuck does this mean for me and my family?" Very solemn. And not that long ago.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">In fact, historically, it was only last week when one compares it to places like St-Severin and Notre Dame. In briefly exploring the Latin Quarter, we encountered St-Severin first, and I fell in love with this little guy:</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjT3hLC5TC8WE2mHjHi0ihYsbgdCAf-MZ4Tv8utNvMDEAeqbBwgM6yVFKuEhjypyTkKSrhLRMqXhVhInYmmgcS9oBni9wf12u0zsUCLyrOXM59Lm9yKBQhqnDnYkK_qj43jyiMyebk3wlo/s1600/St.+Severin+2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><img alt="" border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjT3hLC5TC8WE2mHjHi0ihYsbgdCAf-MZ4Tv8utNvMDEAeqbBwgM6yVFKuEhjypyTkKSrhLRMqXhVhInYmmgcS9oBni9wf12u0zsUCLyrOXM59Lm9yKBQhqnDnYkK_qj43jyiMyebk3wlo/s320/St.+Severin+2.JPG" title="I could just kiss him, he's so cute!" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: small;"><em>Gargoyle of St-Severin</em></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">We planned to do Notre Dame properly the next day, but with it being so close to the flat, we went by on Wednesday and checked out the exterior elevation. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGs8BknwS0bX0BuR_aiI2lhmVEq88PWGf9Gy5_u6h3tb5d11RlQuCv-dZqxE17hdI6VPQdD_M92f3r17jXPrCGjoXBkmeUPnxC-bcYAsi_VCGZXQH74K42V1-4NMgj7E9Z9z8WKv7ygkY/s1600/Exterior+10.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><img alt="" border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGs8BknwS0bX0BuR_aiI2lhmVEq88PWGf9Gy5_u6h3tb5d11RlQuCv-dZqxE17hdI6VPQdD_M92f3r17jXPrCGjoXBkmeUPnxC-bcYAsi_VCGZXQH74K42V1-4NMgj7E9Z9z8WKv7ygkY/s320/Exterior+10.JPG" title="Photos don't do it justice. This site takes your breath away, or it did mine." width="213" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: small;"><em>Cathedral Notre Dame</em></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">So much as been written about Notre Dame, I hardly have the talent to add anything of consequence. But seeing this remarkable façade made my heart skip a beat. I could scarcely believe I was there, standing where thousands upon thousands of people have stood before me, gazing up at the intricately carved figures, each of which were carved by hand by anonymous medieval craftsmen. And the structure alone! Erected without the use of hydraulics or power tools of any kind! In our 21st century world, we are jaded by skyscrapers and office towers, but in the Middle Ages, it must have seemed to the average man or woman that this cathedral soared to the heavens. Magnificent!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Every inch of Notre Dame's façade is sculpted--I was going to say embroidered, which of course is wrong, except that really, the sculptures are like a rich stone tapestry of kings and queens and prophets and saints, of devils and angels and allegorical creatures. Some of these will appear in another post, but my favourite scene on Notre Dame's face is of St. Denis, the patron saint of Paris. According to legend, Denis was a bishop in Paris in 250 C.E. when he was martyred by a bunch of Romans, who cut his head off while he was preaching. Undeterred, St. Denis picked his head up and finished the sermon. The sculpture below shows St. Denis in a pretty typical posture, holding his head in his hands. What I <strong>LOVE</strong> about the scene is the angel next to him; she's supposed to be comforting him, but she can't quite bring herself to touch him and looks frankly a little squicked out by the whole scenario.</span><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj321C_sTXAO97YK42zksG0SvlGoI7zlCo0wGtKEZMm4DIK-U7zOYEVOQSw_27wercZrBPRdDAb7XfuBz8rsarG1iRoIDS2l0c3vqI-jYp6hyphenhyphenbgDofUkFw0bx6OYbXbbBQz5rOgSkLTrOk/s1600/St.+Denis.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><img alt="" border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj321C_sTXAO97YK42zksG0SvlGoI7zlCo0wGtKEZMm4DIK-U7zOYEVOQSw_27wercZrBPRdDAb7XfuBz8rsarG1iRoIDS2l0c3vqI-jYp6hyphenhyphenbgDofUkFw0bx6OYbXbbBQz5rOgSkLTrOk/s320/St.+Denis.JPG" title="Christ, lady, some angel of the Lord YOU turned out to be!" width="213" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: small;"><em>"Jesus, Denis, that's going to leave a mark on Monday, eh?"</em></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><strong>Next Episode</strong>: Paris Day 2</span></span><br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6346976966799971802.post-54082074519520379972015-09-28T10:37:00.003-06:002015-09-28T10:42:05.704-06:00Guns 'N' Roses: A Red-Necked Wedding Extravaganza<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">We interrupt our adventures in Europe to congratulate our friends, Wes and Jodi, on their nuptials, celebrated Saturday night at the local community hall.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I will confess, I had some misgivings about this celebration. The groom is a man of earthy, rather rural tastes, which is occasionally somewhat at odds with Jodi's bellydance aesthetic. I was curious to see how those two visions would reconcile.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">As it turns out, it was really lovely, somewhat whimsical, and often elegant. Don't get me wrong, there were still elements of the absurd: the groom, his best man and the groomsmen all wore camouflage hunting boots and their boutonnieres were made with shotgun shells and bullets (because what says enduring love like weapons of destruction?) And the table runners were also of camo fabric. However, this blended in perfectly with the rest of the "fall wedding" décor, which was simple and rustic, including mason jar hanging lights, birch branches, fall leaves and bulrushes. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPyE7rXJKPFx0bBNCBjBwJx2PaDZMvMPgNKnXUDRkUyE0mfsFtrIRZtWkz6T1bBi4E5BObUDGEAYtCbr5LKJJrAaVJCLDR1tNQf001iCw1s6uZRPNCElLfbqQ5hLtr4p4n3PanA-E8szY/s1600/bride+and+groom.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><img alt="" border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPyE7rXJKPFx0bBNCBjBwJx2PaDZMvMPgNKnXUDRkUyE0mfsFtrIRZtWkz6T1bBi4E5BObUDGEAYtCbr5LKJJrAaVJCLDR1tNQf001iCw1s6uZRPNCElLfbqQ5hLtr4p4n3PanA-E8szY/s320/bride+and+groom.jpg" title="I love fall weddings" width="177" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><em>The bride and groom</em></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The ceremony was brief and to the point and had several moments of humour. The weather, which had been a little surly with rain earlier, decided to co-operate and gifted the happy couple with sun and warmth. The couple have been together for some years, yet it was really nice to see how genuinely happy they were to be married to each other.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">And the party that followed was quite impressive. The wedding party was led into the hall by Shahenda, bellydancer extraordinaire, who danced with a 20 lb candelabra on her head. Like this:</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxYT6kGCn6fno-a7SoKYr9ALBpQcSN0l8XoOD2Hw3GqNHkfK2B3m5QgjnZKY3gvLhCSFgAS7IQglZ0xkkys830TNMZylSuBDAgFsAMtUSnrPpf7yV3JwEIEtMGKN8OpxIJ_Ha58BewJzs/s1600/Shahenda.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><img alt="" border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxYT6kGCn6fno-a7SoKYr9ALBpQcSN0l8XoOD2Hw3GqNHkfK2B3m5QgjnZKY3gvLhCSFgAS7IQglZ0xkkys830TNMZylSuBDAgFsAMtUSnrPpf7yV3JwEIEtMGKN8OpxIJ_Ha58BewJzs/s320/Shahenda.jpg" title="Fuckin' awesome." width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><em>The spectacular Shahenda doing the shamadan dance</em></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">The evening was resplendent with bellydance performances, tons of drink and a pile of really incredible food. I mean, this was a <em>spread</em>, people. The d.j. was really fantastic, and it wasn't her fault that the groom wanted so much country. But it could have been much worse. For example, there was no Bryan Adams and no Celine Dion. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Also, given the quasi-redneck timbre of the wedding, I am pleased and astonished to report that there was only one cowboy hat and <strong>NO BALLCAPS</strong>. Not one. I couldn't believe it. Seriously. Well done, people.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">The Fragrant Missus and I spent the evening with the bellydance crowd and their signicant others. I laughed A LOT. Goddamn it, those people are fun. We danced and ate and drank our faces off and had a really, really fantastic time. It was truly a celebration with a conspicuous lack of douchebaggery. (If this keeps up, I might have to alter the name of this blog to Intermittent Douchebaggery. But we'll see.)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Anyway, Jodi and Wes; thanks for a terrific party. May the years bless you with love and health and laughter. You raq.</span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6346976966799971802.post-55194144880350983442015-09-20T13:34:00.001-06:002015-09-20T19:43:47.685-06:00The Britain Trip--Part Three: The British Museum and Covent Garden<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">The day following the epic birthday party was intended for recovery, and we used it as such. Mostly, we cleaned up the mess in the back yard, put away all the booze and contended with beer shits. It was the only time I felt under the weather during the trip and it was my own damn fault. <b>I regret nothing</b>!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Monday, we visited the British Museum. We caught the train into London and made our way along busy, noisy streets replete with Londoners going about their business and Victorian and Edwardian era buildings. En route to the museum, we saw scenes like this:</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3MLuxYsJcdR7aYTLRni9aYF4eznXyZwsSsQAXEcoXDWZhONGfLXrs3BY7FRd-_1GOWYMqM77NxtJsNu7zDQbwQ7sX0sO0nFCPgaF1UB04jzEP9KRfw6lVtlhB9dFjxbHDdmEYUVHIzGo/s1600/B.+Museum+-+En+Route.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><img alt="Oh, look! An old Building such as we never see in western Canada!!!" border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3MLuxYsJcdR7aYTLRni9aYF4eznXyZwsSsQAXEcoXDWZhONGfLXrs3BY7FRd-_1GOWYMqM77NxtJsNu7zDQbwQ7sX0sO0nFCPgaF1UB04jzEP9KRfw6lVtlhB9dFjxbHDdmEYUVHIzGo/s320/B.+Museum+-+En+Route.JPG" title="Oh, look! An old building such as we never see in western Canada!!!" width="213" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><i>It was my first day in London--I took pictures of everything!</i></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">And also this:</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaUGvMl7CninP7zeJx_Tr5sUZU6bf-RPGFDj3eoQAYa5zBOmTJ_7nzJca40uWaQA0OgLgvlrnIWUrz0dFPHI5lPESjMH4cy65JWC0SUM_bpVUPDoMIhG-fsek4WPodqKK84-yxEGIJgFg/s1600/Grafitti+B.+Museum+2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><img alt="I flt like this after the birthday party." border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaUGvMl7CninP7zeJx_Tr5sUZU6bf-RPGFDj3eoQAYa5zBOmTJ_7nzJca40uWaQA0OgLgvlrnIWUrz0dFPHI5lPESjMH4cy65JWC0SUM_bpVUPDoMIhG-fsek4WPodqKK84-yxEGIJgFg/s320/Grafitti+B.+Museum+2.JPG" title="I felt like this after the birthday party." width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><i>British grafitti--same level of stupidity as at home.</i></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">There was initially some concern that we were lost, but the Fragrant Missus is like a homing pigeon in terms of knowing where she's going, so eventually, we (and several thousands [I may be exaggerating somewhat] of other people) arrived at the British Museum. It has an imposing edifice, like many buildings in London.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQt_pB2qU2JwjPTLcNGwQzvid7CyNyrPMwuuweg0tKQWOW6_zI3oZUyL7zOtk3FACM4v1zSANt5Ms52T_wZvBDTAKZptX9gRgIrAR5YHZ__pWoqDXpYgyoLY_b2g_YDuabMNZWMk2XM3M/s1600/B.+Museum+exterior+2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><img alt=""Don't make eye contact! She's in the mood to tear your face off!"" border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQt_pB2qU2JwjPTLcNGwQzvid7CyNyrPMwuuweg0tKQWOW6_zI3oZUyL7zOtk3FACM4v1zSANt5Ms52T_wZvBDTAKZptX9gRgIrAR5YHZ__pWoqDXpYgyoLY_b2g_YDuabMNZWMk2XM3M/s320/B.+Museum+exterior+2.JPG" title=""Don't make eye contact! She's in the mood to tear your face off!"" width="213" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><i>A detail from the front elevation of the British Museum</i></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">The museum itself is free, although donations are gladly accepted. I chose to support the Museum by giving myself backstrain with the many books and curios I purchased at the gift shop. I think of it as the "Exit Fee".</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Anyway, I had thought that we would go in, see the Medieval stuff and call it a morning. What an idiot. Bitches, this is the British friggin' Museum!!! One does not merely "see the Medieval stuff and call it a morning". <b>NO!</b> One is drawn deeper and deeper into each exhibit, tempted and teased by some of the most incredible works of art this planet has produced since our forebears learned how to hold a chisel or a brush. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">And it was a deeply moving experience for me, as an amateur historian and scholar, to see some of the items that I had heretofore only read about in books or seen online. These things had, up until now, been abstract, mythical, almost theoretical. But now, they were right there in front of me, almost close enough to touch. Here was the Dunstable Swan "in person".</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsIOBVQjJDh6_icBP0l_00u6WiL0oJv_yf18zw3XROnetduEALqsH223uiq6jTeGQ_Mt79S8ntJuMrb1-uUTuP1Bdy2b8jhyHXLP_OYasx6ElIqq-OfpVHcXCO3RSeYF1uUKPH3N4ahjI/s1600/Swan.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><img alt="I fuckin' love the Dunstable Swan" border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsIOBVQjJDh6_icBP0l_00u6WiL0oJv_yf18zw3XROnetduEALqsH223uiq6jTeGQ_Mt79S8ntJuMrb1-uUTuP1Bdy2b8jhyHXLP_OYasx6ElIqq-OfpVHcXCO3RSeYF1uUKPH3N4ahjI/s320/Swan.jpg" title="I fuckin' love the Dunstable Swan" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><i>The Dunstable Swan, English 14th C., enamel and gilt</i></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Here also was the Sutton Hoo helmet, both the original and a restored reproduction. Here were the Lewis Chessmen, and, in other exhibits, statues of Pharoahs and giant scarab beetles and the most exquisitely carved Japanese netsuke, and yes, even a big, honkin', sonafabitchin' Moai from Easter Island.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I will forever be haunted by this image of the emaciated Buddha from the Asian exhibit:</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG6Mwt-L3fJD5NBUZkJRu5ewhDf4KNmASwpk9WK_XITlhLOeLiSmddAY7bOswLVagvQzBuheGpNfk1Pk5KefozDkTwzAj9KIhgUwYZqvu0ppY7fl9QJimqGEam6WN65mPXl-XGF-yhQ6I/s1600/B.+Museum+-+Emaciated+Buddha+1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><img alt="Can we get this poor bastard a sandwich?" border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG6Mwt-L3fJD5NBUZkJRu5ewhDf4KNmASwpk9WK_XITlhLOeLiSmddAY7bOswLVagvQzBuheGpNfk1Pk5KefozDkTwzAj9KIhgUwYZqvu0ppY7fl9QJimqGEam6WN65mPXl-XGF-yhQ6I/s320/B.+Museum+-+Emaciated+Buddha+1.JPG" title="Can we get this poor bastard a sandwich?" width="213" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><i>Emaciated Buddha Punjab, 2nd-3rd C.</i></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">But yanno, when not rhapsodizing about my adventures in other locales, this blog is actually dedicated to douchebaggery. And we had been very fortunate in that we had not really been exposed to any so far. But at the Museum, this was to change.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Whenever anyone asks me what I did not like about my trip, I am stuck for an answer until I remember the fucking tourists. Fuckin' tourists. I hate 'em. I hate 'em when they come to my hometown, and I hate 'em in other places. There's too many of them and they wander around aimlessly, like cattle on a Mumbai street. Or they stop abruptly to look at their fucking phones at the top of the crowded escalator. And they scuff their feet along the marble floors so that their soles squeak and a supposedly quiet day at the Museum ends up sounding like gym class. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">It was an interesting juxtaposition, however, looking at these dull, shuffling pinheads and wondering how the fuck we ever managed to create said works of art, given the obvious lack of talent in the represented genetic pool. Most of these people had no discernible comprehension or appreciation for the magnificence they were viewing. And it's not because I didn't see anyone else weeping over the Dunstable Swan like me. Still, they were doing their thing (usually in my fucking way) and I was doing mine and that was that. It was tolerable, even for an elitist snob like me.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">But then there was this fucking tosser who decided he was going to be funny while I was trying to take a picture of this remarkable work:</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6S-2v-rUnmhk9JUL_jzlGZ_VxvgkCdECiOL95OJ89BQtXiR7J-KbPnjb8UB0uztr7fFiD7Aki7uYcbcBSPDWB8in5hOxhnwIUvcox6iJwHhI19Z-cwv057lipvbMN9_uz8oZ28BZgm2s/s1600/B.+Museum+-+Images+of+Death+4.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><img alt=""It's my uniquely ethnic and cultural celebration of life and death and I'll cry if I want to." border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6S-2v-rUnmhk9JUL_jzlGZ_VxvgkCdECiOL95OJ89BQtXiR7J-KbPnjb8UB0uztr7fFiD7Aki7uYcbcBSPDWB8in5hOxhnwIUvcox6iJwHhI19Z-cwv057lipvbMN9_uz8oZ28BZgm2s/s320/B.+Museum+-+Images+of+Death+4.JPG" title="It's my uniquely ethnic and cultural celebration of life and death and I'll cry if I want to." width="213" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><i>Life and Death Gallery Room 24</i></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I can't recall any of the details about this carving. I usually make notes or snap a shot of the exhibit card, but while I was trying to get this shot, I had to back up a few times to make sure I had the proper angle and that it would all fit in the way I wanted. And because I realize that I am not the only person who might be looking at the object, I try to be situationally aware and look around to make sure I'm not stepping into anyone else's shot or view. I'm not one of *<i>those</i>* tourists.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">And that's when I noted the fucking wanker behind me putting his foot out to trip me.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I straightened immediately and looked directly at him. He appeared startled to be caught, as did his <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Essex_girl" target="_blank"><span style="color: yellow;">Essex Girl</span></a> companion. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">"Really fuckin' funny," I said to him, and the both of them moved off quickly. I waited to see if he was going to respond with anything more than a smirk, because I already had my rejoinder loaded in the breech ("Nice choice, darlin'--your friend here has had the clap so often, it's more like applause"), but they left the gallery and I was free to pursue my obsessive picture-taking.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">We spent roughly five hours at the British Museum, really only scratching the surface, and then we decided to walk over to Covent Garden (no "s", there's only one garden. Well, actually, there isn't any garden at all anymore, but there used to be only one. Only tourists say "Gardens", and we've already established how I feel about tourists. Fucking tourists). </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">On the way we saw this:</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg7vButZKpwQ3odZO48-4oD95DVjsTKzvJN21bZXEscCmqKp4WxfXdSrCl_ayOeLL80VyeexUoAZKnr5tQ1tYn6_jGmTgjhD41qDRI0wp0vpgWZxGqJpgENbsACF2unju4uzyXul_JejE/s1600/Happy-Go-Lucky.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><img alt="The next fucker who squeaks his shoe on the floor is gonna need this place" border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg7vButZKpwQ3odZO48-4oD95DVjsTKzvJN21bZXEscCmqKp4WxfXdSrCl_ayOeLL80VyeexUoAZKnr5tQ1tYn6_jGmTgjhD41qDRI0wp0vpgWZxGqJpgENbsACF2unju4uzyXul_JejE/s320/Happy-Go-Lucky.JPG" title="The next fucker who squeaks his shoe on the floor is gonna need this place" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><i>The Happy-Go-Lucky Funeral Parlour</i></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Covent Garden was okay. I mean, there was lots to see, if you're really into shopping of a certain kind (i.e. flashy, chunky drag queen jewelry, handpainted silk ties featuring London landmarks, etc), and I thoroughly enjoyed the street musicians! But mostly I was interested in eating at this point. We got a seat in the basement of the <a href="http://www.coventgardenlondonuk.com/pubs/punch-and-judy" target="_blank"><span style="color: yellow;">Punch and Judy</span></a>, which had come highly recommended by a friend of my sister's. I loved the atmosphere! Sadly, our experience was less than stellar--they didn't have any of the beers that I wanted to sample, and The Fragrant Missus's food arrived at the table cold. It needed to be sent back to the kitchen for re-warming, and the busy staff was resentful of her request. Maybe they thought we were American, I dunno. It's still no excuse.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">But it was food, anyway, which was much needed before we headed off to the tube to find <a href="http://www.hamleys.com/" target="_blank"><span style="color: yellow;">Hamley's</span></a> on Oxford. I was on the hunt for marbles, of which I have a small collection. And Hamley's carries a selection of marbles by the U.K.'s only remaining marble producer, <a href="http://www.houseofmarbles.com/" target="_blank"><span style="color: yellow;">House of Marbles</span></a>, located in Devon. Beautiful work. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Our trek along Oxford street was arduous--we were footsore and weary, I was weighted down by my purchases from the British Museum ("My treasures, Precious!"), and although we were surrounded on all sides by opulence and prosperity, we also saw people covered in newspapers, sleeping on the doorsteps of shops like Louis Vuitton. It was a sobering view, just as it is as home.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Anyway, Hamley's did, in fact, have marbles (or "mibs", as we say in the marble collecting game), and I made a few purchases. Most of you know that I am an ardent fan of The Queen, but I was not prepared for this full-on creepfest:</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAW4o5aS4tg9CclNUJLiTp9KwsrUSm7Ls7-7bilp4Y673u4_IRz404xm-Sb8bK55jJoBZ-AcR1viqYTcFCxdCWDwPFLBgzFvj8Lk1KO3zEfGAHNN2OhN1zoWg2uCYKweKuOUjBDxuWgjM/s1600/Lego+Queen.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><img alt="Betty and Susan, the Corgi" border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAW4o5aS4tg9CclNUJLiTp9KwsrUSm7Ls7-7bilp4Y673u4_IRz404xm-Sb8bK55jJoBZ-AcR1viqYTcFCxdCWDwPFLBgzFvj8Lk1KO3zEfGAHNN2OhN1zoWg2uCYKweKuOUjBDxuWgjM/s320/Lego+Queen.jpg" title="Betty and Susan, the Corgi" width="213" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><i>What the actual fuck???</i></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Yeesh. Creepy Lego Queen. By this time it was 9:00 p.m. and we'd been on our feet since before 9:00 that morning. We hopped the train back to the station at Brentwood, where we caught a cab to Kelvedon Hatch. The setting was eerily familiar though--the cab driver was a man of colour and some education who, upon hearing where we wanted to go, said, "Where is that?"</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">My response, in an obvious Canadian accent, "We're not from around here."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>Next Episode: </b>Gay Paree!</span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6346976966799971802.post-56222294544843976452015-09-08T22:24:00.000-06:002015-09-20T19:55:26.645-06:00The Britain Trip - Part Two: PARTY!!!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">(Or, <b>Tequila and Trampolines Don't Mix</b>)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I awoke the next day (Friday) to pigeons doing their best Keith Richards impressions outside my window and decided it was an opportune time to whiz. When I emerged from the loo, however, I discovered my five-year-old niece, Sadie BumBum, standing in the hallway. She seemed uncertain about confronting a disheveled stranger in her toilet who had not been there when she went to bed the night before. To her credit, though, she just stood there, staring.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Groggily, I said, "Good morning, Sadie. I'm your Auntie Anne. Do you remember me?"</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Probably not, because she continued to stare mutely.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">"I'm going to stay with you for a while, is that okay?"</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">She nodded and bolted for her room, so I returned to mine and tried to sleep off the jet lag and all the beer from the night before.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Friday was a quiet day of preparation for the century's grandest 40th birthday bash. Stoo was expecting half of the U.K. to show up, or he must have been, judging by the amount of booze he laid in for the occasion. Hard liquor included scotch, vodka (several flavours), rum (spiced and un), Jack Daniels, sherry, vermouth, gin, tequila, Southern Comfort, and some hideous cinnamon and sour shots. Blech. Softer drinks included white, red and rose wines, ciders (Magners and two kinds of Strongbow), and various beers. With the exception of Corona, none of them were shitty beers, either. And all of these were available in quantity. I can honestly say, I have never seen this much booze assembled outside of a professional establishment, before or since.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Shmee, my sister, took us into the town of <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Brentwood,_Essex" target="_blank"><span style="color: yellow;">Brentwood</span></a>, where we had lunch at <a href="http://www.themerchantbrentwood.co.uk/" target="_blank"><span style="color: yellow;">The Merchant</span></a>. My smoked mackerel and salmon pate was fucking amazing. In fact, I will say this about eating in Britain; forget eveything you've ever heard about shitty British cuisine. It simply isn't true. We had the most delectable meals during our time in the U.K., whether it was good old fish and chips or curries or locally produced cheeses...it didn't matter. The food was fantastic, and at least where we were, there was enormous emphasis placed on growing and eating both locally and fresh.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img alt="OMGOMGOMGOMG" border="0" height="215" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsXrW8azS0w6Czuni8Qf_0cYp5m8q8Tac4bIc4-5f9IM42MDLW_5jZrfqoetbYubSe21-C-mCzx2OqDNv_3-nGcpVY7tSuZVTT5SzaVpDwiwp7PdwC55sCZKThjzaxZQjt7C3BiR_ER4E/s320/thomas.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="OMGOMGOMGOMG" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Chapel of St. Thomas Becket</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsXrW8azS0w6Czuni8Qf_0cYp5m8q8Tac4bIc4-5f9IM42MDLW_5jZrfqoetbYubSe21-C-mCzx2OqDNv_3-nGcpVY7tSuZVTT5SzaVpDwiwp7PdwC55sCZKThjzaxZQjt7C3BiR_ER4E/s1600/thomas.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"></span></a><br /></div>
<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">It was also in Brentwood where I saw my first proper medieval building. The St. Thomas Becket Chapel was established in 1221, and constructed of dressed limestone and flint. It is mostly a ruin now, but I was enthralled. I touched it, sniffed it, admired it; I almost licked it. Still, it's been standing for 800 years and thought I might run he chance of contracting the Plague, so declined.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">The next day, Shmee went off to have her hairs did, and in her absence, we decorated the house and yard. Or yards, rather, as the fence separating Stoo and Shmee's backyard from that of Stuart and Wendy Brooks was removed to make one big party palace. Again, Stoo went all out. There were so many Canadian flags in the garden, one could be forgiven for thinking it was Canada Day! Only, there was no Bryan fucking Adams or shitty beer, thank ghod.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">People started arriving around 3:00 p.m. By that time, the bartenders had arrived and were busy pouring copious amounts of booze down the throats of partygoers. The caterer was working on getting the grills hot so that we could indulge ourselves in chicken, sausages, burgers, and lamb. The weather was gorgeous, probably the hottest day we had throughout our trip (in contrast, it snowed that day in Canada. That's right, it fucking snowed in fucking August).</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Things were blasting along. There was food.</span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq3Ou1TGYwIa4cNV1dy-FcFw4BNyscETLemlCkx1UMt7GYlwKciUOiQ5Bj0bnT9QCe4VH1lBl6zfJE05nwJcvFQbKubPZa5mlMRxsF44kZ2DTAGidsweZ1E-9EGKcgTOp3RnTXWoNQ5h4/s1600/meat.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><img alt="" border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq3Ou1TGYwIa4cNV1dy-FcFw4BNyscETLemlCkx1UMt7GYlwKciUOiQ5Bj0bnT9QCe4VH1lBl6zfJE05nwJcvFQbKubPZa5mlMRxsF44kZ2DTAGidsweZ1E-9EGKcgTOp3RnTXWoNQ5h4/s320/meat.jpg" title="That's grand--what's everyone else eating?" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><em>Stoo orders the help about</em></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">There was drink.</span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwe7hxyhU9eoriH5R3lpjB5vuoDZkFjxk1VpaO0lGURDKMqvpcr1UNFKYwhB-mzqsRdyIo5b1VnzN0GsdnpSbgCDuNp9BfCiXIRbArgO-aK2mmk9kauYDnuz9WzBfRaSzefdxOkr12i3g/s1600/beer.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><img alt="" border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwe7hxyhU9eoriH5R3lpjB5vuoDZkFjxk1VpaO0lGURDKMqvpcr1UNFKYwhB-mzqsRdyIo5b1VnzN0GsdnpSbgCDuNp9BfCiXIRbArgO-aK2mmk9kauYDnuz9WzBfRaSzefdxOkr12i3g/s320/beer.jpg" title="Grabby hands!" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><em>John Smith, I love you</em>.</span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">There was live entertainment.</span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibQN8WMSrtodVTPf857oZnjPEYHozk-EHxOPBm4k8d3_siGlIiZHJL7j_e33O4ffPG4ZthDXcPF32qSFfjgY2zA3vvh6YB5vJrene9NpKQdLK3EaOsVr3g5PP_NbQtVGRcRcZDK_lOURY/s1600/live.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><img alt="" border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibQN8WMSrtodVTPf857oZnjPEYHozk-EHxOPBm4k8d3_siGlIiZHJL7j_e33O4ffPG4ZthDXcPF32qSFfjgY2zA3vvh6YB5vJrene9NpKQdLK3EaOsVr3g5PP_NbQtVGRcRcZDK_lOURY/s320/live.jpg" title="Stoo said Dan's song was depressing. Dan said, "Not as depressing as your shirt, mate."" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><em>Mr. Dan Evans, ladies and gents</em>.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">There was dancing.</span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7DmrD3oE06jSqeBMgstB1MxOwk8S-zyvYBDAkNlbDvxmTbftGEK19T1ecaCR8TVrG_W2OVX7RLefzSxytzpmDY6BgBbs61GtMM2Nw5Bnkzs0xMGDpAT24KGMwfe90TFCejo_5Guqwd8c/s1600/dancin.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><img alt="" border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7DmrD3oE06jSqeBMgstB1MxOwk8S-zyvYBDAkNlbDvxmTbftGEK19T1ecaCR8TVrG_W2OVX7RLefzSxytzpmDY6BgBbs61GtMM2Nw5Bnkzs0xMGDpAT24KGMwfe90TFCejo_5Guqwd8c/s320/dancin.jpg" title=""Move to Brighton, Anne. It's full of lovely gay people."" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><em>Me and the gallant Mr. Stuart Brooks. I'd emigrate for this man</em>.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">There was cake. A beautiful cake. </span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhomlgPvEfoYKGNtVvQTsdr6PdDV6no3XktDt2B3y4iVGPvOGsOaIk8F9oVKZS_jn0d5ZJAY16qZt_83xfbh5FrZyz4XmeqwQhsJrSn-JTRKWi6qxBGOZubERg_yHeRc2SMAEjRr_tBbHA/s1600/cake.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><img alt="" border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhomlgPvEfoYKGNtVvQTsdr6PdDV6no3XktDt2B3y4iVGPvOGsOaIk8F9oVKZS_jn0d5ZJAY16qZt_83xfbh5FrZyz4XmeqwQhsJrSn-JTRKWi6qxBGOZubERg_yHeRc2SMAEjRr_tBbHA/s320/cake.jpg" title="Fuckin' eh." width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><em>Canada represents, eh?</em></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">There were no obvious douchebags. It was glorious. The party was only missing one essential ingredient... </span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9Py_ECUGZDJ3Hyaqo2hFCVVLloS_yHjL1rz-ql5We6NQYo544pybAiDMydgDDWI1nGh2LE5tWy1lC0-0cRSEC7phyphenhyphenDRI3cvQJWq22hY3l6zCbhsQ0L5pFhLF3JpLphyphenhyphenszSa9syAp5cHo/s1600/mariachi.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><img alt="" border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9Py_ECUGZDJ3Hyaqo2hFCVVLloS_yHjL1rz-ql5We6NQYo544pybAiDMydgDDWI1nGh2LE5tWy1lC0-0cRSEC7phyphenhyphenDRI3cvQJWq22hY3l6zCbhsQ0L5pFhLF3JpLphyphenhyphenszSa9syAp5cHo/s320/mariachi.jpg" title="Well, I guess I can scratch this off my bucket list..." width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><i>Mariachi Fiesta!</i></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Yes. Stoo's final surprize was a mariachi band.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">And the appearance of the mariachi band resulted in unbridled enthusiasm, which took the form of Shmee running from guest to guest saying, "There's a fucking mariachi band in my fucking garden for my fucking birthday!!!" </span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqGSAT_Pg9QkF8Y4ko5C7lqgW2ciAh8FJCwLHo62swdIufGoSdnXwPRbkyFZ0pu0LCbXJsSZkxzuW-l4SBd9XwSfgOiqkSCT3V7u2Qonbpk4l5V4eI35_X-BAyLR2GrMXz6ZMEPx4M3tQ/s1600/fuckin.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><img alt="Fuckin" border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqGSAT_Pg9QkF8Y4ko5C7lqgW2ciAh8FJCwLHo62swdIufGoSdnXwPRbkyFZ0pu0LCbXJsSZkxzuW-l4SBd9XwSfgOiqkSCT3V7u2Qonbpk4l5V4eI35_X-BAyLR2GrMXz6ZMEPx4M3tQ/s320/fuckin.jpg" title="Fuckin" width="213" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">"</span><i><span style="font-size: small;">There's a fucking mariachi band in my fucking garden for my fucking birthday!</span></i><span style="font-size: large;">"</span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">The band played many of the mariachi standards, including "La Cucaracha" and "La Bamba," and, inevitably, "Tequila". Now, I haven't been on speaking terms with tequila for many years, not since a house party where I got so loaded on shots that I publicly opined that if a certain ADHD stepson couldn't be medicated, educated or otherwise modified in his behaviour, I should be allowed to eat him. I meant it satirically, </span><i style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-large;">a la</i><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"> Jonathan Swift, but my satire was not appreciated, least of all by his mother. Tequila is a bad influence.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">But when there is a fuckin' mariachi band in your sister's fuckin' garden on her fuckin' birthday playing fuckin' "Tequila", and you're in the U fuckin' K, you fuckin' do tequila shots with your fuckin' sister and her fuckin' awesome friends. Possibly it can be said I didn't need to do quite so many. However, it was absolutely worth it to see how impressed the bar staff were by the fact that I was still standing after the last one. And believe me, the Brits are a hard drinking race of people.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Certainly, I didn't need to then crawl onto the kids' trampoline and thrash about trying to grab their toes while they screamed. That wasn't my wisest decision. I don't know how long it lasted, but I do vaguely recall stopping before I spewed everywhere. And at some point, Wendy Brooks and I were reclining on the trampoline with a little boy of about four, looking up at the mild British night.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">It was, as Stoo, would say, the nuts.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>Next Episode</b>: London and the British Museum</span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6346976966799971802.post-3700269096471605252015-09-07T14:50:00.002-06:002015-09-20T19:49:01.918-06:00The Britain Trip - Part One: Arrival<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">On August 19, the Fragrant Missus and I flew to the U.K. to visit my sister and celebrate her 40th birthday. This was a <i>sooper sekrit</i> plan and had been months in the making, as her husband, Stoo, had started planning it shortly after the New Year. It was agony, keeping it to ourselves for five whole months, but we did it, and what follows over the next little while is a chronicle of our 17 days in Britain and Paris. Some of the writing here has appeared already on my Facebook page, but bear with me--there will be additional info and some photos here that didn't appear during my very sporadic updates during the trip.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">We flew out on Iceland Air.
It was a six-and-a-half hour flight over Canada's tundra into Keflavik,
Iceland. It was a bizarre experience being on a flight on which English was not
the primary language. It was like travelling with Vikings. In fact, when the
Fragrant Missus asked me for a translation, I said, "We come from the land
of the ice and snow where the midnight sun and the hot springs flow." Then
I added, "Duh."<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Anyway, the flight was excellent. There were lots of movies
to watch and a trio of tall, slender, angular flight attendants. The only
challenge was the security line up in Keflavik, which took so long that our
connecting flight to London Heathrow was in its final boarding call by the time
we made it upstairs. I was tired and cranky and prepared to go all Erik the
Viking on someone, but it was all good in the end.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Two and a half hours later, we touched down in London at precisely noon. Our flight was required to circle over north London for about ten
minutes prior to landing. My sister lives in <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kelvedon_Hatch" target="_blank"><span style="color: yellow;">Kelvedon Hatch</span></a>, a borough of Brentwood, which is also north of London. By this time, I was quite anxious to get off the plane. We hadn't slept a wink, and were sore, cramped, exhausted and starving. I just wanted Inga (or Helga or Olga) to give us a pair of fucking
parachutes. But apparently that meant we' d bypass British Security, so that wasn't on.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I will say this about the British Security services--they were well-dressed, efficient and pleasant. This, in direct contrast to the lazy, rude, slovenly and obviously bored Canadian security personnel. British Security were dressed in uniforms with ties and crisply ironed shirts - the Canadian security services were wearing bulletproof vests. Seriously. Britain has actually been subject to international terrorist attacks - Canada not so much. Any excuse to be dramatic, I guess.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Anyway, we were
collected by Stoo, who drove us to the home of his friends
and neighbours, Wendy and Stuart Brooks.We were to wait there for a few hours before the unveiling of the big surprize! Driving out of London along the M25 took a bit of
getting used to. This driving-on-the-left thing. is fucked up. Also, the British cheerfully blast two vehicles headlong down a lane that is properly only meant for one. It is initially very poop-in-the-pants inducing.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">We made it to Kelvedon Hatch with no incident and dozed for a while until Wendy and Stuart took us over to <a href="http://www.picturesofengland.com/England/Essex/Kelvedon_Hatch/pictures/1178116" target="_blank"><span style="color: yellow;">The Shepherd</span></a>. Anticipation and spirits were high as Stoo and Terri approached! This was the culmination of five months of planning!!! Almost a half a year of waiting! She had no clue! How would she react???</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">There's a video on Facebook that I lack the technical skill to post here, but it was fucking brilliant, as they say. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">This may come as no particular surprize to any of you, but I got absolutely faced that night. I had two beers at the Brookses before heading over to The Shepherd, where we had two more. After that, we stumbled across the road to <i>The Bongow</i> for a sumptuous curry. Seriously, this was fantastic food, and the serving staff actually addressed Stoo as "guvnor". Of course, there was more beer and champagne, and combined with being up for about 24 hours, I got really, really shitty. I mean, when we finally got to bed, I hit those sheets harder than Dale Earnhardt. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="line-height: 115%;">And
there's no telling how long I might have slept, but around 6:00 a.m., the
pigeons outside the window started. At first, I thought it was rather charming,
but after 20 minutes, I was fantasizing about powerful hand cannons and a lot
of dead fucking pigeons. Have you ever noticed that pigeons sound an awful lot
like the backing vocals to the Stones' "Sympathy For the Devil"? It's
impossible to sleep through this incessant
"whoo-hoo/whoo-hoo/whoo-hoo".</span></span><br />
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">And they have ruined this song for me utterly. So if there are douchebags in this story, it is the pigeons. Fuckers.</span></span><br />
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><strong>Next Post</strong>: The Most Epic. Party. Evar.</span></span></div>
</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6346976966799971802.post-48720799188438711032015-07-11T11:23:00.003-06:002017-05-25T20:17:16.233-06:00Stampede Douchebaggery<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Get comfy. This is a long one, kids, but I can't stay silent any longer.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Well, it’s
Stampede time again and both traditional and social media are abuzz with lively debate over the ethics of rodeo.
The Calgary Stampede is a shit show for a number of reasons; although
the agricultural exhibits are educational and authentic, the rest of it is, as
usual, a forum for douchebags to manifest their douchebaggery. A group of
people were caught (and filmed and posted on YouTube!) having sex publicly. Of greater concern, three men were stabbed the other night
and one remains in hospital in critical condition. None of this makes the Stampede any different
from any other large event, such as the CNE or Edmonton’s K-Days or what have
you. People in large groups gonna be douchebags.<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></span><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">What sets
the Stampede apart from these other events is the rodeo. Already this year, two
horses have been euthanized due to accidents during the chuckwagon races. Every
year, there are equine fatalities resulting from this blood sport, which, I
might add, is <b>NOT</b> a traditional cultural activity. Cowboys never raced their
chuckwagons—this is a purely modern invention, aimed at bringing tourist
dollars onto the Stampede Grounds, and the animals suffer for it.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></span><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Invariably,
after an accident/fatality on the track, there is enormous outcry from those
who are justifiably horrified by the carnage. And invariably, the rodeo supporters
respond with their usual bullshit excuses. Let’s look at some of these excuses
in detail, shall we?<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></span><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">“<i>We love
our animals and would never hurt them intentionally. They’re like members of
our own families</i>.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></span><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Oh,
bullshit. I don’t doubt for a moment that on some level the “cowboys” care for
these horses, but if they truly loved them, they would not expose them to so
much potential danger. *That’s* what love is. The chuckwagon competitors care for
these animals insomuch as the horses can win them a shit-ton of money; the
Rangeland Derby offers a 1.15 million dollar purse to the winner. These boys
have their eyes on the prize, and the horses are insured, so their losses (i.e.
deaths) are factored into the overall costs of competing. The horses aren’t
family members—they are commodities for which the competitors have some
fondness. Mostly because the animals are useful and compliant.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></span><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">“T<i>hese
animals are failed race horses. At least the chuckwagon races give them a few
more years of life.</i>”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></span><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">It is
beyond the scope of this blog to go into all the ways in which horse racing is
also abusive and deadly, but this comment strikes me as kinda twisted. It is
akin to saying, “Well, they couldn’t make it in one dangerous activity about
which they never had any choice, so we’re gonna give them the gift of doing
something else equally as dangerous. Because life is sacred, isn’t it?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></span><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">And it is
actually the sacredness of life that is at the core of this debate. Rodeo protesters see animals less as
commodities and more as sentient individuals who deserve the same respect and
consideration as our human brothers and sisters. Rodeo apologists? Not so much.
Again, these animals are commodities. They are “just” cows, “just” steers,
“just” horses. Hell, if they weren’t in the rodeo, they’d be on somebody’s
plate next to the potatoes. Right?<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></span><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">“<i>Have you
ever been behind the scenes at a rodeo? This is not abuse! The animals are
cared for by veterinarians and are treated like gold</i>!”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></span><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">So, let’s
look at the fact that none of these creatures have any agency whatsoever in
terms of the rodeo. None of these animals <i>choose</i> to participate. This is a
wholly human endeavour, and for a pile of cash, I might add. Over two million
dollars in prize money is up for grabs in the various rodeo events, some of
which include bronc and bull riding and the ever-controversial calf roping. </span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></span><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">And as for the rodeo events not being abusive, what is benign about <a href="http://www.liveleak.com/view?i=3d5_1379902034" target="_blank">this</a>? </span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></span><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Or <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=We6ONpWPoTI" target="_blank">this</a>?</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></span><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Or <a href="http://www.calgarysun.com/2014/07/12/steer-euthanized-after-suffering-severe-injury-in-stampede-incident" target="_blank">this</a>?</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></span><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">How does one watch this egregious violence and not see it as exactly that?</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></span><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">And
sure, I have absolutely no doubt that the livestock is cared for extremely well
while they are part of the rodeo circuit—where is the glory in spending eight
seconds aboard a tired old nag with open sores and hooves that need trimming?
Obviously, it is good showmanship (and a stroke to your sad cowboy ego) to
subdue a fiery, powerful beast with rage in his eyes. Yanno, the Romans and American
plantation owners took care of their property, too, because their economies depended
on it. Yes, their economies were dependent on <b>slavery</b>, which is precisely what
these animals are. These animals are nothing better than gladiators, and they
suffer injury, trauma and death for the amusement of humans.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></span><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">“<i>If it
wasn’t for rodeo, a lot of these animals would die out</i>.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></span><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">This
argument is total shite. We don’t bait bulls anymore, but the bulldog didn’t go
extinct. What the fuck kind of argument is that? And besides, because the
animals are viewed as commodities rather than living creatures deserving of
respect, we regularly see horses sold at auction for $25.00 to who knows who? And lets not forget the news reports we read of farm animals in need of rescue from some pasture where they have been allowed to starve or
freeze to death. Perhaps fewer animals is exactly what is called for here, if
we cannot care for them humanely.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></span><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Regardless
of the care that is lavished on the livestock all the rest of the year, rodeo
is neither humane nor ethical. Defenders of the activity (it is not a sport—a
sport is between two consensual parties) point to the low injury rate during
the actual events as evidence that rodeo is safe and humane. "An article from
the January 15, 2001 Journal of the American Veterinary Medical Association
noted that a survey found only 15 animals injured in 26,584 performances of 21
PRCA rodeos – a 0.00041 percent rate.[14] A 2000 survey conducted by
independent veterinarians at 57 PRCA rodeos found 38 animal injuries in 71,743
animal exposures,[15] and a 1994 survey conducted by on-site independent
veterinarians at 28 sanctioned rodeos involving 33,991 animal runs documented
the injury rate at .00047 percent, or less than five-hundredths of one
percent.[6] A study of rodeo animals in Australia found a similar injury rate.
Basic injuries occurred at a rate of 0.072 percent, or one in 1405, with injuries
requiring veterinary attention at 0.036 percent, or one injury in every 2810
times the animal was used, and transport, yarding and competition were all
included in the study.[7] A later PRCA survey of 60,971 animal performances at
198 rodeo performances and 73 sections of "slack" indicated 27
animals were injured, again approximately five-hundredths of 1 percent —
<a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Animal_treatment_in_rodeo" target="_blank">0.0004.[5]</a>"<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></span><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">That being
said, however, the study does not include practice time, where the public is
not on hand to observe and where the cowboy is not accountable to anyone but
himself for the treatment of the animal, which is easily replaced by another.
The ASPCA reports that practice sessions “are often the scene of more severe
abuses than competitions”.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></span><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">It is also
worth noting that there are no more recent studies of rodeo animal treatment
than the 1994 study. Rodeo is a lucrative business adamantly opposed to
transparency, because it is founded on the blood and gore of domesticated
animals. The bulls and the broncs are given dramatic names to perpetuate the
myth that they are enraged, dangerous creatures. In reality, they are driven to
fury with electric prods, flank straps, sharpened sticks, spurs and other tack,
all so the spectators can have the thrilling show they paid for.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Finally,
here are the words of two American veterinarians who I will permit to have the
final say on this subject. E.J.
Finocchio, DVM wrote the Rhode Island legislature urging a ban on calf roping:
"<i>As a large animal veterinarian for 20 years...I have witnessed first hand
the instant death of calves after their spinal cords were severed from the
abrupt stop at the end of a rope when traveling up to 30 mph. I have also
witnessed and tended calves who became paralyzed...and whose tracheas were
totally or partially severed...Slamming to the ground has caused rupture of
several internal organs leading to a slow, agonizing death for some of these
calves</i>."<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></span><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">And also, C.J.
Haber, a veterinarian with 30 years experience as a USDA meat inspector notes,
"<i>The rodeo folk send their animals to the packing house where...I have
seen cattle so extensively bruised that the only areas where the skin was
attached [to the body] was the head, neck, legs, and belly. I have seen animals
with six to eight ribs broken from the spine and at times puncturing the
lungs</i>."<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></span><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Rodeo is
not humane, it is not ethical. It is exploitive and cruel and deadly, and if
you attend the Calgary Stampede, you are supporting that.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></span><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Rodeo is
douchebaggery.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjukjEsrc_qgQEiQbGmquU-ktpwacvpjkTMXP33MLRZ_WpvV7NCGHDil_O2YHmNf3s4QJMsGxOx2mmwixYKZW00WwbhLS8AtzUkZMSZgdX8q0p_ahTc7vs9IR2Qp-pXT6o869e15Vatoa0/s1600/CFDsteerkilled.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjukjEsrc_qgQEiQbGmquU-ktpwacvpjkTMXP33MLRZ_WpvV7NCGHDil_O2YHmNf3s4QJMsGxOx2mmwixYKZW00WwbhLS8AtzUkZMSZgdX8q0p_ahTc7vs9IR2Qp-pXT6o869e15Vatoa0/s640/CFDsteerkilled.png" width="496" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Death by douchebaggery</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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