Jury Duty

15 05 2008

There’s nothing worse than getting a Jury summons in your mailbox, because it lets you know that in about four weeks you’re going to have an experience worse than bathing in a pool of severed cocks.

The first thing you have to do is fill out the stupid form that comes with the jury summons. On this questionnaire, they ask you stupid shit that they never really intend to verify - like “have you ever been convicted of a felony?” or “do you think Barack Obama looks like a cartoon monkey?”. After Michael Vick and Mike Norman lie on their applications so they’ll have a chance to fuck someone over, and you fill yours out truthfully, you get to the part of the questionnaire that asks if your employer pays you during jury service.

Figure 1: Has probably served on a jury with a black defendant

If you’re a salaried employee, you’re fine, because you’re pretty much guaranteed pay during your time off that your employer is required by law to give you for jury duty. If you’re not a salaried employee as are untold millions of Americans, you won’t get fired - but you are completely screwed. I don’t know how it is in the rest of the country, but DC pays $4 if you’re not selected for a trial, and $30 per day if you are.

Thirty motherfucking dollars per day in lieu of your regular hourly rate. I know $100+/hour contractors who have wound up on trials that literally cost them thousands of dollars.


Figure 2: Will earn more money today than any juror anywhere ever

Anyhow, you send in your form and wait a few weeks for your service date. When that day comes, you walk your ass over to the courthouse and are greeted by a line a mile long coming out the door. After you stop swearing, you look around at the people in line and notice something interesting:

  1. Lots and lots of white people holding jury summons
  2. Lots and lots of black people waiting in line to support family/friends on trial

This is upsetting now, but it will absolutely enrage you in just a few minutes. Stay tuned.

You get to the metal detector inside the courthouse, which is staffed by U.S. Marshalls. Now for anyone that’s seen the movie of the same name (starring Tommy Lee Jones and Wesley fucking Snipes), you’d be inclined to think that being a Marshall would require intelligence and attention to detail. Not so. The ‘Marshall’ manning the metal detector looks like Special Ed from Crank Yankers’ wearing a police uniform, and is at least as incompetent.

Figure 3: “I’m an officer of the court, YAAAAAAAAAAAAY!!!!”

People are walking through the metal detector with the thing beeping and blaring like it’s fucking Mardi Gras, but the Marshall is letting them right on through without checking them with the handheld metal detector. Instead, he just uses it to direct machine gun toting patrons into the middle of the courthouse, because apparently he thinks the handheld implement is supposed to be used like an orchestra conductor’s wand. I walk into the courthouse wondering if this fucktard even realizes he’s holding a metal detector.

Next on the jury duty menu is another enormous line, this one leading into the jury office which is filled with people making bad excuses to try to get out of jury duty like “I hate niggers” or “I’m a hemophiliac suffering from Uncontrollable Falling Down Syndrome”. When it’s your turn in the office, the clerk gives you a creepy smile, gives you a badge, and tells you to wait in the ‘jurors lounge’ for your name/number to be called.

The juror’s lounge is filled with rows and rows of seats. People are stupid, so instead of walking to the far end of the row so other people can easily file in behind them, they sit at the near end of the row and force everyone to walk over top of them. This asshole also has the nerve to act bothered by the fact that people have to do this even though it’s his/her (usually her) own fault. You finally take a seat, and an orientation video starts.

The orientation video features some old Civil War veteran of a judge telling you how fortunate you are to live in a country where you’re tried in front of a jury of your peers. Remember what I said about the demographics of the line outside the courthouse? This is where you become very very very very angry. If you’re smart, you’ll toss in your headphones and listen to Drowning Pool for awhile so you can’t hear the rest of the video. If you’re not smart (like me), you’ll listen in utter disbelief as the rest of the video explains the trial process that you’d have assumed any normal functioning adult would understand already by sheer virtue of not living under a fucking rock.

The video ends, and not a moment later some overly excited Carlton Banks lookalike jumps to the podium up front:

Carlton: “Wwwwwelll GOOD MORNING FOLKS! WELCOME TO JURY DUTY, HOW’S EVERYBODY DOING?”
Jury Pool: [grunts in unison]
Carlton: “OK SUPER DUPER! We’re gonna be calling our first jury for Judge Whogivesaflyingfuck, so if I call your name annnnnnnnnnd badge number please announce your presence with a hearty ‘HERE’!”

Figure 4: Goddammit…

This khakied fuck stick then starts reading off the names of the extremely unfortunate. You feel like you’re in that scene from Glory where all the soldiers are charging across the beach toward Fort Wagner - people all around you are being blown up by cannon fire…and all you can do is hope you aren’t next.

Carlton comes out two or three more times before dismissing the survivors for lunch, which is the only enjoyable part of jury duty. You grab your sammich from a local foodatorium and sit outside the courtroom looking at people. This is when you realize something very interesting about black female attorneys:

  1. They are hot
  2. They are everywhere

All these chicks are wearing high heeled shoeses and those vertically striped booty-accentuating dress pants. There is so much high class booty everywhere that you briefly forget that you’re at jury duty. You get to partake in this visual feast for a whole entire hour…but at 1:30, your monkey ass goes right back into the juror’s lounge.

Carlton returns several more times to choose victims, but somehow he doesn’t call your name. You pass the time by reading and watching the awful Sandra Bullock movie they insist on playing over and over again on the TV screens. When you get really bored, you start having stupid contests with yourself like seeing how many times you can blink in a minute. As the end of the day approaches, you look around and wonder how many non-salaried employees are about to get paid $4 today, which won’t even pay their Metro fare to and from the courthouse. You resist the urge to start the revolution.

Figure 5: Me, in the last hour of jury duty

Finally, Carlton shows up for the last time and dismisses everyone. You can’t help but think that there must be a more efficient way to set up jury pools. This is eight hours of your life that you will never EVER get back. You are fuming as you walk out of the courthouse…until you see hot attorney booty all over the place again. Suddenly, you think it was all worth it.

God bless women.


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Categories : Government

Dreams

14 05 2008

I had the following dream last night, which was unusually long and I somehow managed to recall in vivid detail:

It started off with a recurring nightmare with my mother and I in that scene from the original Jurassic Park where a rainstorm knocks out the power to the electric fence that keeps the T. Rex fenced in. We are in the Jeep like those two kids when the dinosaur comes out and tries to attack us.

Figure 1: My dreams fucking suck

My nightmare is, however, different than the movie in three ways:

  1. I am armed with a sword for some reason
  2. I try to fight the dinosaur
  3. I kill the dinosaur by stabbing it in the brain through the eye, but then it falls on me and kills me

Usually I wake up at this point, but last night was different. Last night the dream continued past my crushing, as my soul exited my body…and went straight to Hell.

In Hell, I found out that my brother is Satan. Seriously. My soul was taken to the throne room of Hell and none other than my older brother came out from behind a curtain and sat down on the throne. My brother did not look like the devil. He had neither horns, nor pitchfork, nor hooves, nor was he even wearing red. He was, in fact, wearing the same brown Gucci suit he wore to my cousin Ramon’s wedding. Oddly enough, I don’t recall being surprised by any of this in the dream.

Figure 2: The awful truth about my brother

I don’t remember what my Satanic brother said to me; all I know is that my punishment involved me being reincarnated as 6th grade teacher at my old elementary school. Here are the highlights from my stint as an educator:

1.) Somehow, the kids already know that I’m Native American. When I walk through the doors of the school, they have built a bonfire in the lobby and are dancing around it like Kevin Costner in ‘Dances with Wolves.’ The principal is participating.

2.) I introduce myself as ‘Mr. Johnson’ for some reason (this is not my real last name), but the kids refuse to address me by any name other than ‘Chief Runny Colon’.

3.) I have two teaching assistants. I have to go upstairs for a meeting with the vice principal, and I leave my students in the charge of the TAs for ten minutes. When I return to the classroom, my teaching assistants are holding a poker tournament with the students, and they are using real money. Most of the female students are being used as cocktail waitresses and are serving booze. EVERYONE is drunk. It’s at this point that I realize my TAs are Michael and Dwight from ‘The Office’.

4.) For whatever reason, I’m supposed to teach Calculus to 6th graders. The poker tourney inexplicably vanishes and the kids are all in their seats. I’m in the middle of explaining derivatives when some kid behind me yells “YO TEACH! MATH IS FOR NIGGERS!” The kid is Vietnamese. He is also wearing a Rayden hat. The black students jump out of their seats and beat the living shit out of him. I do nothing to stop it. I am subsequently fired.

Figure 3: Did I mention this asshole was the principal?

I woke up at 4:30am laughing my ass off.

You may be wondering why I would hate dreams if this one made me wake up laughing. I’ll tell you why. Because there’s something in my subconscious that’s telling me:

  • I’m going to Hell even if I die fighting a 7 metric-ton prehistoric apex predator to save my mother’s life
  • 11 year old girls can be cocktail waitresses (I suppose this explains the whole ‘Hell’ thing)
  • I associate Asians with Rayden

I’ve had the regular dreams, sex dreams, and superhero dreams that anyone could consider normal and aren’t too difficult to explain. I cannot, however, explain the dream where I’m in a Kay Bee Toy store beating ninjas to death with a fire extinguisher. I cannot explain the dream where my father and are are Achilles and Hector dueling like Brad Pitt and Eric Bana in ‘Troy’. I cannot explain the dream where I walk into Willy Wonka’s chocolate factory, shoot Willy in the head, then turn around only to be shot in my own head by none other than Katie Couric.

Just take a moment to imagine some of the sick shit you’re encountered in your dreams. Now, try to come to the understanding that it’s all coming from within your own mind, and that your dreams are only as fucked up as you are. Disturbing isn’t it?


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‘Creole’ Chicks

13 05 2008

If I hear one more person justify Beyonce’s increasing whiteness by saying “she’s not getting white, she’s just Creole!”, I am going to murder every single person I meet for the next hour.

The term ‘Creole’  was originally used to describe olive-skinned folks from Louisiana who had some mixture of French, Spanish, Black, and/or Native American ancestry, and spoke a language of the same name. More recently, ‘Creole’ has become a moniker used by pompous light-skinned fucktards to justify buying into and promoting caucasian standards of beauty.

Figure 1: Shrimp Creole - the only acceptable form of Creole

Some of these motherfuckers running around calling themselves Creole have no ancestral ties to Louisiana. They don’t speak Creole. They’ve never even BEEN to Louisiana. But that won’t stop the local resident douchebitch who happens to have ‘good hair’ from dying it blonde, getting Japanese straightening or whatever the fuck it’s called, throwing in green contact lenses, and running around claiming (implicitly or directly) to be better than ‘regular’ black people.

If she’s a REAL cunt, she’ll give the name some weird spelling like ‘Kreyole’ or ‘Creyol’ when she fills out some government form that asks for your race. She won’t check black, or white, or native american - NOPE! She’ll check the ‘Other’ box and write ‘Kreyole’ in the space next to it because she’s way too exotic and special to be a nigger, redskin, cracker, or some combination of these played out races.

The following is the internal monologue of the fake Creole chick:

“If I say I’m Khreyowle, then people will think I’m sophisticated! They’ll think I’m descended from French people and drink martini’s with extra extra dry vermouth while speaking a combination of French and Spanish to my friends while cruising on my superstar athlete husband’s yacht.”

Figure 2: Delusions of a pompous shit-brick

“They’ll think that my freakishly straight blond hair with pubes that don’t match is somehow natural! I’ll also have skin that’s tan but not niggerish, and I can lighten it with makeup JUST enough to rise above my blackness, but fall short of being considered white! Yay, racial purgatory! They’ll fall for this even though I can’t distinguish between Creole and Cajun, have no idea that Creole is also a language, and couldn’t point out Louisiana on a map OF Louisiana.”

The following is the internal monologue of the pompous real Creole chick:*

“Mmm mmm mmm, I sure am FINE. I’m kinda black, but my hair is naturally straight, my skin and eyes are light, and the media has decided that I’m what everyone wants. Oh I know! I’ll leverage my blackness and start a music career! Just for good measure, I’ll make sure my backup singers are darker than me in skin tone and/or hair color so that little nappy headed girls all over the world will know that light skin and long light straight hair comes first.”

Figure 3: In case you hadn’t figured out who I’m talking about yet…

As I reach a wider and wider audience, I’ll lighten myself just slowly enough so the average idiot won’t be able to notice. This will make me more acceptable to white and international audiences, and I’ll just ignore the collateral damage it does to the body image of the black adolescent girls that got me where I am in the first place. I’ll contribute further to the decline of black people by encouraging use of the word ‘conversate’ and being in a relationship with a man whose success was built on encouraging young black men to be promiscuous, experiment with cocaine, and kill people. After all, the ends justify the means! TEE HEE! Despite my active and conscious participation in the erosion of the black sense of self, people will ignore and even defend my behavior because - GASP - I’m just Creole!”

I can’t write anymore. There’s a fucking fire alarm going off in the office, and the blood vessel above my right eye is about to burst. I fucking goddamn hate everything.

*No, I do not think all Creole women are pompous. Please get off my nuts.


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Categories : Pop-Culture, Racism

Interracial Dating

12 05 2008

Interracial dating has been a sore spot for both black people and the non-black people that engage them (and vice-versa) ever since the two groups were introduced to one another. Unfortunate historical circumstances coupled with natural human aversion to unfamiliar people have caused this topic, which is fundamentally a rather stupid one when it really comes down to it, to bubble up more rage and animosity than one might have for the crazy dude that hypothetically tried to murder his family.

To find out how pissed off people get about interracial dating, all you have to do is go to the comments sections of the FAQ page or Subtle Racism III: Asian Chicks. There you will find all manner of racial poop flinging, much of it coming from black men and black women telling each other how much they suck.

Figure 1: I can’t wait for some jackass to cry ‘racist’ over this image

You’ll witness black men saying that black women have too much attitude or are self-defeating; black women telling black men that they’re stuck up or that white guys are more polite and ‘evolved’, and what have you. It’s the most ridiculous pile of tripe I’ve ever been exposed to in recent memory.

When the shit chucking dies down a bit, we sometimes get into the reasons that people (black men, in particular) choose to date out. Some guys have legitimate reasons, while others either make sweeping comments about the anger of black women, or the supposed superior physical attractiveness of non-black women…or some people have this guy’s motives:

Figure 2: My friends are hysterical

Most people like to focus on the ‘why’ of interracial dating, but I personally like to focus on another question:

Who the fuck cares?

There are two things that enrage me about interracial dating as a topic (as opposed to the actual act of dating out, which I am fine with):

1.) We’re all going to die.

I don’t mean just the people that are alive today, or our children, or their descendants. I mean everybody, forever. After awhile, the sun is going to burn out all its fuel and expand as it cools. As it expands, it will swallow Mercury and Venus, and turn the surface of the Earth into liquid-hot magma before the planet is itself consumed by the sun. When that happens, no one will remember us. No will know that we were ever here. Nothing that has ever happened in the entire course of not just human history, but the entire history of planet Earth, will matter.

Figure 3: It WILL happen…

Looking at the issue through a cosmic lens makes ruffled feathers over a black man/yellow woman combo seem rather stupid, but it would also seem to justify things like murder and rape. I don’t really think this is a fair comparison because, regardless of your perspective on how doomed we as humans are, murder and rape are objectively evil. Even babies seem to recognize that these things are wrong. But ill-feeling toward interracial relationships is learned behavior, and most sane people wouldn’t say such relationships are inherently evil.

Ignoring things that are going to happen billions of years from now, there is a much more down-to-earth reason that interracial dating can be a problem:

2.) Some black people use interracial dating as a referendum on the ‘date-ability’ of their own race.

It enrages me that anyone would have the gall to declare an entire race of people beneath them. When that race is your own, it boils down to self-loathing by sheer definition. This is why I laughed on the inside when Wesley Snipes got sentenced, and this is why my blood boils when some asian women shun all asian men because “they’re all dorky and we’re all hot” even though it a.) isn’t true and b.) has absolutely nothing to do with me. I suppose it’s the pompous attitudes more than the racism that bothers me.

Figure 4: Karma’s a bitch, ain’t it?

Black men and women just LOVE to say to one another: “Hey yall didn’t holler, so don’t hate when you see me with a white/asian/hispanic/mer[maid|man].” I group these people with the same class of idiot that brings white supremacists to this site claiming superiority to blacks while inexplicably requiring our existence and input to feel validated.

If you feel that dating outside your race should go hand-in-hand with people of your own race gazing longingly through the glass wall of your own ignorance while pining to smash that wall to assume the position of your significant other, you should have your fucking throat cut. For people like you, your own race shuns you because you’re a fucking asshole. There is no other reason. Your success with other races can be explained in all likelihood by cultural guilt or fetishism feeding a remarkably high bullshit tolerance.

I digress.

Date and fuck whoever you want, goddammit. Life’s too short, we’re all going to die, and we’re all pink on the inside.


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Categories : Racism, Sex, Social Trends

Isaac Hayes

9 05 2008

Black people have had to eat a lot of stigmatized shit over the years. We’re falsely characterized by the population at large as being innately dumber, more criminal, more promiscuous, and more self-destructive than virtually any other race on Earth. But in spite of that all, black people have for decades been able to say the following without batting an eye: “Yea? Well at least we don’t do crazy shit.”

Jeffrey Dahmer, Ted Kaczynski, Timothy McVeigh, Charles Manson, the Columbine kids, Jim Jones…all of them were white. Whenever some white person came along talking shit about black people, we could always point at those examples and say black people would never do that shit.

Unfortunately, our collective forcefield against “crazy” seems to be eroding bit by bit, and it started with OJ.

To stab someone is a crime of extreme passion and craziness and, outside of prison shankings, black people tend not to do it. We prefer to shoot people, probably because you don’t have to hear the icky squeezed-ground-beef sound that I can only assume you’d hear when you do the deed. Stabbings are also very difficult to perform in drive-by format, unless of course you’re this guy:

Figure 1: Reminds me of my father, when he’s in a good mood

OJ changed all that when he decided to get all stabby with his goldilocks wife and Ron Goldman, whoever the fuck he was. Before the Juice, black people could easily claim that being a ’slasher’ was strictly the domain of white people, hispanics, and the Japanese - and that black people rarely ever took part in the decidedly sick act of plunging, with your own two hands, a sharp implement into the flesh and organs of another human being with the intent of killing them. Not so after OJ.

OK, so one black guy went Edward Niggahands on a couple of white people. It was an isolated incident, and at least it was, as Chris Rock put it, an ‘understandable’ (albeit horrible) crime of passion. But at least we don’t go around killing huge numbers of people at random for no apparent reason, right?

Figure 2: Wrong.

Thanks to this jerkoff, we black people can no longer dismiss the Psychopathic Serial Killer moniker. Every black person reading this post remembers when this asshole terrorized DC for a couple weeks a few years ago, and every black person reading this post knows damn well that he/she just KNEW the killer was white. When the perpetrators turned out to be not just one but TWO black dudes, part of the whole entire black community died while, at the same time, part of the whole white community lifted up its voice in unison to say “HA! YALL, TOO!”

And there you had it. In a few short years, black people entered the once-caucasoid realm of high profile slashers and serial killers. But still, we knew that black people would at least never…ever…EVER subscribe to crazy religious cults right?

Figure 3: WRONG WRONG WRONG WRONG WRONG FUCK!!!!!

For those who don’t know, Isaac Hayes is a believer in Scientology - the cartoonishly named demi-cult (involving aliens among other ridiculoutiae) developed by fiction writer and resident psychopath L. Ron Hubbard that, for whatever reason, has pulled countless celebrities into its fold and turned Tom Cruise into (more of) a raving lunatic:

Figure 4: Tom Cruise is, to this day, the only person to ever successfully scare the living shit out of Oprah Winfrey

What’s interesting about Isaac Hayes is how the news of him being a Scientologist came out. No one really knew about his ‘religion’ until his sudden and unexpected departure from South Park, which it turned out was done in protest to ‘religious insensitivity’ shown by the creators of the show when they mercilessly lampooned Scientology in the episode ‘Trapped in the Closet‘.

But even when people found out he was a Scientologist, no one really put him in the same category of crazy as Tom Cruise until they began to realize just how hypocritical his reasoning for leaving the show was:

“There is a place in this world for satire, but there is a time when satire ends and intolerance and bigotry towards religious beliefs of others begins.” -Isaac Hayes, in a statement released explaining his departure

I started shitting dynamite the instant I read this.

After spending years on a show that made unequivocal mockery of Jews, Muslims, Blacks, Asians, Native Americans, the mentally retarded, the physically disabled, Catholics, Mormons, poor people, homosexuals, and the homeless…Isaac fucking Hayes decides that mocking SCIENTOLOGY is unacceptable.

This blind and hypocritical loyalty to his pseudo-religion rocketed him from normalcy right into the stratospheric realm of crazy occupied by Tom Cruise and other celebrity Scientologists. We now knew that Isaac Hayes was a maniac, and that he had officially popped the negroid cherry of religious fanaticism. Next thing you know, allegations are flying that Will and Jada Pinkett Smith are Scientologists as well, and I wind up having to cry myself to sleep for the next six weeks.

Thanks Isaac, you bald cock.


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Fake CEOs

8 05 2008

Quite some time ago, Stuff Educated Black People Like offered a post on Conferences (this post has since been inexplicably removed from the site). I railed lightheartedly upon this post in my now-infamous Master’s Degrees post. I can’t believe that during that tirade I failed to mention the single most offensive part of attending a motherfucking conference:

Meeting a bunch of self-proclaimed executives.

Anyone that’s ever attended any networking event of any kind has been victimized by uncountably many idiots passing out business cards that list their title as:

  1. CEO
  2. President
  3. Chairman
  4. President and CEO
  5. His Majesty and Liege Lord of All Surveyed By His Eyes

They will give themselves these titles even when they have no employees, no partners, no elected officers, no board, and (very commonly) no fucking revenue. This is what makes entrepreneurship such a giant pain in the ass - you’re bound to meet other entrepreneurs out of necessity, a good 90% of them will introduce themselves with one of the bullshit titles above, and for some reason the cops have the nerve to arrest YOU when you stab them in the eye with the free letter opener that came in your conference bag.

Figure 1: That black dude wants to kill everybody in the room

What’s amazing about this phenomenon is how ironic it is. People give themselves the CEO title in an effort to sound important, wealthy, and powerful, but at the same time they (should) know full well that anyone running around telling people they’re a CEO is the exact opposite of all of these. Real CEOs don’t make deals and connections at a fucking minority business conference, you fucking asshole. They make deals on the yacht of some rich guy named Sven who signs your $20 million contract while snorting coke out of a hookers navel.

These fake CEOs are the same ones that pull up to the club in their entry-level luxury car (BMW 3 series, Mecedes C class, Infiniti G35, Audi A4, etc.) while wearing their Banana Republic jeans-and-blazer combo in an attempt to delude themselves/others into thinking they’re wealthy…when in reality they’re just one missed paycheck away from losing their shirts and getting kicked out of their shared apartments by their greasy-haired roommates. Ironically, most chicks don’t see the reality for what it is and they actually fall for the bullshit of the fake CEO. This system of positive reinforcement is exactly why the fake CEO continues to exist and, by extension, is why my blood is always at a rolling boil.

Aside: CUFFS

As a reaction against the behavior of the Fake CEO*, I developed and currently live by a system called CUFFS - Condoning of Ubiquitous and Ferocious Financial Spite. CUFFS is a program designed exclusively for up and coming (or already-came-up) men, and serves a threefold purpose:

  1. to demonstrate that indicators of wealth are often (and usually) misleading
  2. to demonstrate that people who do not feel the need to exhibit displays of wealth may indeed be the wealthiest of all (it should be noted that certain white people, Jews, and Arabs have been doing this for decades)
  3. to promote humility among the financially successful, or those on their way to financial success

Practically speaking, CUFFS involves controlling and minimizing superficial displays of wealth and class, such as cars, clothing, gadgets, speech, and other outward facing items - so people who actively subscribe to CUFFS are said to “be wearing CUFFS**.” The oath of the CUFFSman is as follows:

  • I shall evermore shun symbols of wealth and class to the greatest extent possible, insofar as doing so does not interfere with building further wealth

The qualifying clause in the oath is important, because it permits CUFFSmen to a.) own smartphones (needed to check bidnass-related email on the go thereby building wealth), and b.) own well-appointed homes in good locations (making property more attractive to renters so the CUFFSman can accumulate multiple properties over time instead of always selling his personal residence as soon as he gets tired of it). It’s also important because it allows me to be a hypocrite and get away with it.

For those esteemed and highly principled folks looking to wear some CUFFS themselves, here are a four practical ways to get started:

1.) Start using public transportation. Hop your ass on the subway or bus and let somebody else do the driving while you spend your morning commute reading, working, or disciplining other people’s children.

Figure 2: There are at least 60 kids on this train in need of a beating

2.) Buy a shittier car. You don’t have to drive a Gremlin to wear cuffs - you just need to own a regular car that does not exude wealth. You can even buy a new car. Nearly any Honda or Toyota will suffice for those testing the waters of CUFFS. When you’re ready to dive a little deeper, pick up a used Saturn or Kia. When the bottom is in sight, grab something fucked up like an old deuce and a quarter with holes in the floor. When you finally reach the bottom of the abyss, sell your car(s) outright and start running everywhere.

Figure 3: This might be pushing it a little

3.) Sell your jewelry. Jewerly is for girls anyway, and it makes you look like a fucking asshole. With the exception of wedding rings and class rings, pile up all your precious stones/metals sell it on eBay, or stuff it in a heavy duty sock and go around town beating Fake CEOs bloody with it (Homey the Clown style) until the cops catch you. Then sell it on eBay.

Figure 4: This could, and probably should, be you

4.) Alter your dress. Don’t throw away your suits, because you’ll need them to make more money. But make sure you wear those suits as infrequently as possible. Don’t dress like a hobo; you just want to look good without wearing anything that says “I PAID $60 FOR THIS T-SHIRT!” The master CUFFSman will buy from high-end places infamous for having their pompous logo shamelessly emblazoned all over their garments (Armani is a great example), but will ONLY buy those few items that carry no indication of the designer at all. All the expense with none of the reward, and for no apparent reason. That is spite, and that is the true essence of CUFFS.

Figure 5: Again, don’t get fucking carried away

* This is also a reaction against in-your-face intellectuals and people in general who display an utter lack of humility

** ‘Wearing Cuffs’ also works on a metaphorical level for men, because subscribing to this philosophy will significantly restrain your ability to attract women, and will cost you more pussy than you could possibly even begin to imagine.


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Categories : Finance, Work

Segways

7 05 2008

I was running near the south side of the White House yesterday when I was nearly run over by some fat fucking woman on a Segway. For those who don’t know what a Segway is, it’s a transportation device used by healthy people to mock the handicapped.

Figure 1: You have legs. USE EM!

Any person without a physical disability caught on one of these goddamn things should be arrested and punished by having his legs amputated, or at least be classified as legally retarded (as should anyone who feels the need to wear a helmet while traveling at walking speed).

For those who haven’t encountered them personally, there are two types of Segway douches:

1.) The Owner

This is the rare assfuck who shells out upwards of $5,000 for the privilege of pretending his legs don’t work. You’ll see a surprisingly large number of these motherfuckers careening around the streets of DC, barely or not at all avoiding running people over as they make their way from their Capitol Hill row house to whatever government building they’re going to sit in for eight hours avoiding real work and filling with acidic suck the lives of millions of Americans. The most infuriating part about the Segway owner is the fact that my tax dollars are subsidizing his laziness in a vicious conspiratorial circle of financial waste:

Figure 2: How the government uses your money

2.) The Tourist

Here’s how the typical American fatass winds up in my city on a Segway and ruins my day in ten easy steps:

  1. Asshole from Iowa finishes making love to his sister
  2. Sister/Wife (Swife) suggests “Woooo WHEE! I THANKS WE SHUUUD TAKE UH VACATION!”
  3. Husband and Swife pack up their four inbred children and hop in their 20 year old station wagon
  4. Along the way, they pick up standard white man tourist gear: neon ball cap with wide brim, extra large sunglasses, fannie pack, khaki shorts, high rise socks, and “rugged” leather hiking sandals
  5. The Clampetts arrive in DC, avoiding the SE quadrant of the city at all costs and arriving at the Mayflower Hotel
  6. The Clampetts are fat from decades of eating mayonnaise sandwiches, and are afraid their feet may explode if they walk too far. They sign up for a Segway tour.
  7. Ethiopian cab driver takes advantage of arcane zoning system to charge $12 dollars to take the Clampetts the 1/2 mile to downtown DC to join the tour
  8. The Clampetts plop down $100 per person to join 40 other lazy idiots just like themselves and roll down the sidewalk with them in unison like a platoon of overweight cyborgs, relishing in the envious looks they receive from pied-à-terre fatties and the looks of disgust from non-fatties who aren’t too lazy to walk
  9. The eldest daughter, Susie Clampett, is losing control of her Segway near the Old Executive Office Building because she is a.) a gastropod, and b.) an inbred retard. She yells to her father “Uncle Daddy! What’s wrong with this thang?!?!” as it turns violently to the right, makes a U turn, and nearly causes her to run over a nearby mulatto runner.
  10. Mulatto runner now has to increase pace significantly to stay ahead of the mobile death squad, because they are following his route. 2 miles later his body quits on him; vomits in front of confused/horrified children and their parents.

Oh well. At least I can take some comfort in this:

When it was launched in December 2001 the annual sales target was 40,000 units, and the company expected to sell 50,000 to 100,000 units in the first 13 months. Segway Inc’s investors were optimistic. Inventor Dean Kamen predicted that the Segway “will be to the car what the car was to the horse and buggy” and John Doerr, a venture capitalist who invested in the company, predicted that Segway Inc would be the fastest company to reach $1 billion in sales. In fact only about 30,000 Segways were sold from 2001 to 2007.

Critics point to Segway Inc’s silence over its financial performance as an indication that the company is still not profitable, as about $100 million was spent developing the Segway.

-from Wikipedia

Figure 3: Think about it…


Comments : 126 Comments »
Tags :
Categories : Health, Travel

Aside: Stupid Emails

6 05 2008

I received the following email today:

“Hi Chris,

I would first like to say that I absolutely love your blog! It is funny, real, honest, intellectual and quite the refreshing read after a long day’s work.

Having said that, I do have a suggestion for you. I think your blog should continue as “stuff black people hate” instead of your personal dating site. I do not know about the other women who read your blog, but I am completely aware that the FAQ’s ‘are you single/available’ and ‘do you date women who aren’t black’ are ploys to get you a hot black woman in the dc area. I am not mad at your attempt to find companionship; however, I do think it takes away from the blog.

I’m really not trying to bust your balls; I just thought you should know!

Thank you for the tireless energy that you focus towards the blog and please keep up the great work!!”

Given the not-at-all-veiled backhandedness of this email, I spent about ten minutes trying to figure out if Hillary Clinton wrote it. After all, Mrs. Clinton has a tendency to believe that coating an ‘eat-shit’ fish sammich with honey somehow makes it go down easier, which is true…but only with stupid fucking people from rural Ohio and Pennsylvania.

Figure 1: Thanks for ruining this delicious sandwich for me, asshole

After awhile I realized that Hillary Clinton probably doesn’t care very much about me, so I took the email for what it was: the electronic musings of someone who read the Cliff’s Notes for a Dale Carnegie book and got it all the fuck wrong. Since this reader failed to win me over as a friend or influence me to tear down my FAQ section or whatever the hell she wanted me to do*, and since she’s probably not the only person with these sentiments, and since I’m bored for once, I’ll simply rip apart each sentence of her second paragraph as I sit here on the toilet with the door open so I can hear Family Guy in the next room:

1.) Having said that, I do have a suggestion for you.

I don’t care. Seriously. If I listened to the suggestions of every person with half an opinion that emailed me, the following would have happened by now:

  • I would have stopped writing this blog because “Beyonce might see it and find it seriously offensive” [from an email in mid-March]
  • I would have written dozens of posts about mayonnaise [countless emails and comments]
  • I would be at the head of a movement to convince black people to move back to Africa [oddly enough, this idea was posed to me by both a black supremacist and a white supremacist ON THE SAME DAY]

No fucking thanks. I will continue to take suggestions only from the thoughts that pop into my head when I encounter someone (like you) or something (like your email) is so saturated with unfounded horseshit that I’m forced into the bathroom to get it out of my system.

2.) I think your blog should continue as “stuff black people hate” instead of your personal dating site.

This might be a valid comment if I had ever, in the 3 or so months this site has been up, so much as indirectly attempted in any way to date anyone that’s contacted me about this site. Since that isn’t the case, I suppose that renders you guilty of 1st degree aggravated falsely-presumptive jackassery. I think you get the chair for that in Texas.

3.) I do not know about the other women who read your blog, but I am completely aware that the FAQ’s ‘are you single/available’ and ‘do you date women who aren’t black’ are ploys to get you a hot black woman in the dc area.

Wow Negrodamus, you see ALL! I shouldn’t be angry at you though, because woman-law mandates that you draw outlandish conclusions from a man’s simple statements of fact. My FAQ section was written for practical purposes: to answer frequently asked questions. To address the two FAQs you mentioned specifically, the idea was to reduce the number of emails I got asking me if I was single [209 of these] and if I dated non-black women [59 of these]. After I posted the FAQ, these emails slowed significantly. Smart people call it ‘Problem Solving’.

As for a so-called ‘ploy’ to attract hot black women…no. I am decently paid, well educated, cultured, kind of a jerk, and I can even be witty from time to time - so I have neither the time nor the need to devise scams to attract the opposite sex. I do just fine being myself, thank you.

4.) I am not mad at your attempt to find companionship; however, I do think it takes away from the blog.

I am not mad at you for emailing me with your inane suggestions based on incorrect assumptions; however, I do think it’s taking away from the satisfaction of the dump I’m taking right…[strain]…now.

*Unless her goal was to get me to write about her email; in which case, I can’t win em all dammit.


Comments : 167 Comments »

Categories : Asides

Irresponsible White Women

5 05 2008

Sunday mornings in Spring are my favorite time of year, assuming I’m not hung over from the night before. On these mornings, I wake up before dawn and go running around the monuments on the Mall as part of my training regimen for the dance season.

Figure 1: Ah, the serenity of it all

There’s nothing more relaxing than my 9 mile Sunday morning run. The smell of dew and flowers in the air, birds chirping, squirrels and chipmunks everywhere, mature trees, the illuminated marble beauty of the monuments, the red sunrise…the terrified shriek of the inattentive white woman I just spooked.

This is the third motherfucking goddamn time this shit has happened to me, and for some reason it’s always involved a white woman being somewhere she shouldn’t be at a time she shouldn’t be there engaged in some activity that just screams “EASY FUCKING TARGET!” I’ll be running, usually in the dark just before dawn or just after dusk, and some white chick will be walking alone in a secluded and extremely dark area where she is talking VERY loudly on her cellphone and paying attention to absolutely dick.

Figure 2: A danger to herself and everyone else

Next thing you know, I’m within six feet of this fucking idiot, she finally hears my footsteps, turns around to see a large black man running up behind her, SCREAMS!!!!, throws all her shit up in the air, and sends me sprinting away from the area before some cop assumes I’m a rapist and I wind up getting shot in the back like that dude in Glory.

One such incident occurred while I was in college and I was running in the dimly lit corridor that connects a parking lot with one of the residence halls. It happened again when I was running in Rockville some damn where. And finally, it happened yesterday - and this one was by far the worst.

During the previous two incidents, I a.) was jogging and b.) saw the dumbass chick before the shit happened. This time, however, I was in a full sprint down the length of the Reflecting Pool (which is lined with mature shade trees and is, therefore, VERY dark) and I didn’t see or hear the woman. I’m about halfway down the pool when I suddenly hear “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

I think I’m under attack by a whino or a homeless dude, so I respond to this reflexively by shrieking out a war whoop, drawing the small dagger I keep strapped around my forearm during my nighttime runs, and charging in her direction (thanks Dad). When I finally make out who she is, she is frozen in fear…but with the cellphone still stuck up against her empty head.

I stop, stare at her in disbelief, sheathe the dagger, grunt angrily, and jog off.

Figure 3: Police composite sketch of me fleeing the scene

I will never understand why white women (and asian and black women, to a lesser extent) feel they have both the need and the right to walk around alone in the dark while chatting away on their cellphones. The three spooky negro incidents I’ve mentioned above renders the argument that women are master multitaskers completely fucking false - when a woman is on her phone, she completely loses all peripheral focus even if she’s in danger and has ample warning*.

I can hear the counterarguments already: “BUT CHRIS! WE’RE ON THE PHONE SO THAT IF SOMETHING HAPPENS TO US, SOMEONE WILL KNOW!”

1.) You shouldn’t be in that situation in the first place. There is no reason to be walking around at night in unlit areas by yourself in a major fucking city**

2.) Your friend on the other end of the line can’t help you. If that friend didn’t immediately say “GET THE FUCK OFF THE PHONE SO YOU CAN PAY ATTENTION” and hang up, then your friend is as dumb as you are. As she hears your cries for help while you’re being mugged in an alley somewhere, she’ll run around her dorm for ten minutes hysterically yelling “OMIGOD DOES ANYBODY KNOW THE NUMBER TO 911?!?!?!”

Ladies, especially you white ladies, put down the phone and pick up your ears and your pepper spray. Better yet, stop walking around in the dark at night by yourself for no fucking reason. Stop going to frat parties and accepting drinks handed to you by a guy that’s hiding a bottle of pills behind his toga. Stop needlessly putting yourselves in dangerous situations and acting surprised when bad shit happens to you. And most importantly…

STOP RUINING MY SUNDAY MORNING RUN.

*The Reflecting Pool is about 200 yards shy of being 1/2 mile long. The woman was spooked right at mid-length, meaning she had 1/4 mile of my hard breathing and heavy stomping to hear me…if she hadn’t been on the fucking phone.

**I know I’m guilty of this too - after all, I was also running around by the Reflecting Pool in the dark. I am also not a frail, inattentive, and easily spooked white woman. I am 6′3″ tall, I weigh 190lbs, I am already running, and I am armed with knives. I’m not the type of person anyone wants to rape or mug. I can run anywhere I want.


Comments : 129 Comments »

Categories : Potpourri

Looney Tunes

2 05 2008

Three things happened yesterday that made me quite upset:

  1. I dropped several thousand hackle feathers all the fuck over the floor in my condo
  2. Walking into the elevator with my headdress and eagle feathers, some stupid chick asked me “OMIGOD ARE YOU A REAL INDIAN?!?!?!”
  3. I watched Looney Tunes for five fucking hours

Watching Looney Tunes for so damn long reminded me of a cartoon I saw as a child, where Bugs Bunny somehow wound up in what was called “Deepest Darkest Africa” and spent the episode making an ass out of an African native that was drawn to look like an eggplant with feet and a spear. What disturbs me about this memory is that this racist fucking cartoon was aired as late as the early 90’s.

Anyone on this board over the age of 21 or so probably has racist Looney Tunes episodes seared deeply into their memories - which makes the following statement by Wikipedia about the ‘Censored Eleven‘ complete and utter bullshit:

“The ban [on showing the censored 11] has been upheld by UA and the successive owners of the Looney Tunes catalog to this day, and these shorts have not been officially broadcast on television since the late 1960s.”

I specifically remember watching the episode ‘All This and Rabbit Stew‘ several times on cable (I believe the station was TNT) in the early 90’s, and ‘Jungle Jitters’ is probably the episode featuring Deepest Darkest Africa and the eggplant man.

Figure 1: I’ve seen this cartoon before, and I’m pretty sure I wasn’t alive in 1968

What the hell can I say - people were racist as shit back in the day, and the intended audience for Looney Tunes was, as Friz Freeling partially admitted, intended for racist fucking white people. No small wonder that the Warner Brothers, all four of whom were apparently Jewish, still bought the Looney Tunes series despite innumerable negative references to Jews.

For those who want to get mad by experiencing the racism in visual form, enjoy this.

Racism aside, I enjoyed Looney Tunes because it was undeniably fucking hilarious. This is why I was emotionally devastated when I came upon the following:


Figure 2: There is no God

Apparently in 2005, someone took the friendly characters from Looney Tunes (Bugs, Daffy, Wyle E. Coyote, Taz, and the Roadrunner) and injected them with Agent Orange or some shit. Now these clever characters have been reborn as ‘The Loonatics’, who in the image above are depicted as soulless and unnecessarily badass spreaders of the X-treme marketing virus hell bent on leaping out of my computer screen and punching me in the testicles.

Let’s take a look at each of these characters in turn:

1.) Ace Bunny - (pictured at the center) Ace Bunny appears to be the craziest out of the entire group, which is impressive considering that not one character even has pupils. Ace’s tightly clenched fists, inexplicably sharp teeth, scimitar-shaped ears, and what appears to be a twitching right eye symptomatic of severe stress, seem to indicate that the sole purpose of Ace Bunny is to rape your dog and murder your family.

2.) Danger Duck - (bottom left) is actually the most normal-looking of the bunch, in spite of the fact that his soulless eyes are given a red hue to indicate that he’s been to Hell at least once. Danger’s predecessor, Daffy Duck, was fairly lanky, out of shape, and had hands that resembled feathers - but the new Danger duck appears, at least in this image, to be rather broad shouldered and have fists cast of solid bronze. I’ve never seen the cartoon, but I’m pretty sure that at some point Danger has uttered the phrase “feathers are for cunts.”

3.) Tech E. Coyote - (far left) was always green with envy at the Roadrunner in the original cartoon, and for the Loonatics series has been rendered literally so. Recognizing the fact that our children are indeed dumber than ever and have no idea what the word ‘wily’ means (or the ability to associate ‘wile’ as a pun on ‘wild’), the creators apparently made Wyle E. Coyote take a fucking MCSE exam and become Tech E. Coyote - the cheesiness of which is borderline criminal, but nonethless simple enough for our stupid ass uncultured electronically-obsessed fatass children to comprehend.

4.) Slam Tasmanian - (top) has a fist bigger than his fucking head even if you adjust for perspective, (we can only assume he uses that fist to beat unwilling women into submission), and 95% of his face is composed of innumerable gigantic teeth because apparently his character was modeled after Terrell Owens. The enormous size of Slam is not done justice by the above picture, so I’ve included another:

Figure 3: Seriously, dude. There is NO God.

Slam clearly weighs at least a metric ton and is suffering from an X-TREME case of ‘Roid Rage. One can’t help but notice that his transformation from ‘Tazmanian Devil’ in Looney Tunes to ‘Slam Tazmania’ in Loonatics is not at all unlike Barry Bonds’ transformation from man to Silverback Gorilla between 1986 and today, and is therefore a horrible example for our children.

5.) Rev Runner - (far right) is so fucking goddamn X-TREME that he’s the only bird I’ve ever seen with teeth. TEETH ON A BIRD, DUDE. I am willing to bet my life that right now somewhere in the country, some middle schooler is flunking a science test because he sees this question…

  • True or False: Birds have teeth

…and then thinks to himself: “AH! REV RUNNER HAS TEETH! TRUE!”

Fail. That child will spend the rest of his life asking people if they’d like to try a combo.

6.) Lexi Bunny - (bottom right) I’m not too sure why they didn’t just cut the bullshit and call her ‘Sexy Bunny’ or ‘Flexibunny’ or ‘Slutty Bunny Cum Bucket’. Is there any coincidence that Lexi is positioned below Ace’s left nut? Anyhow, the creators of the show clearly wanted to introduce sexual tension to the show while a.) maintaining plausible deniability of said introduction, and b.) at the same time assuaging the oh so annoying Girl-Power lobby. To this end, Lexi has been given scythe-like dagger hands that suggest awesome fighting prowess and excruciatingly painful sex all at the same time.

Figure 4: Come back, guys. Please?


Comments : 280 Comments »
Tags : ,
Categories : Pop-Culture, Racism

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