Nemisis

Periodically, I write something about a store that doesn't make sense to me. I mean to say, the store doesn't make sense to me, what I write usually makes perfect sense....to me. The reason why there is no mention in this blog, heretofore, of CompUSA, is because I vowed to quit shopping there prior to writing this blog. I didn't do a campaign or boycott, I didn't vow publicly to quit shopping there and bid everyone else to do the same. I quietly hated it there so much, and when I say so much, I mean so much I wouldn't shop there at all. Even though I cap on Fry's, I would go there 100 time before I would go to CompUSA. In fact, I would sooner build a computer out of construction paper, paper clips and a soda machine then go to CompUSA. I would even write my own analog OS, which I might do anyways.

Imagine my delight, this week, when I drove through the area where CompUSA is located and saw some people holding signs what said, "CompUSA's going out of business sale" I quietly played my part for the past few years, and surprise! The sweeet sweeet taste of victory. BEHOLD, the vanquished!

I went there yesterday, to breath in the sweet stench of death, but it wasn't fulfilling... yet. They haven't even marked down their prices yet enough to be competitive. But, soon, it will all be over. The prices will fall, customers will come in and get excited about the deals they are getting, and then slit their wrists because the check out process is so long and arduous, not worth any amount of % off. Next time I will sneak my camera into the store. Hopefully you will get to watch with me as the local CompUSA breathes its final, humiliating breath.

Light saber fights

I had collected some urls of light saber fights on youtube, but I can't find what I did with em, so if you wanna get in the mood for this post, go to youtube.com and search "light saber fight not France" and you will prolly see the same collection of awesomeness I saw.

Everyone knows that a real Jedi, and maybe even some not totally up to par Jedi's, are able to move things with the power of their mind. All Jedi's get their light saber knocked out of their hands from time to time and usually it goes flying way across the room. For a Jedi, no problem, they use the power of the force and it comes flying back to them.

A few things I don't get about light sabers. I don't understand how the saber part, that is made out of lights, knows to be a certain height? I am sure even in the Jedi world, length is important. It would be too embarrassing if you build a light saber and it turned out to be shorter than all the other Jedi's light sabers. I wouldn't even know how a Jedi would explain it. I picture at light saber practice, the new Jedi turns on his light saber along with all the other Jedis, the practice hall gets really quiet, everyone looks at the new Jedi with the short light saber. Then he shuts his saber off, grabs his stuff, and heads for some remote jungle planet to live out his shame alone for the rest of his life. Even the force isn't gonna help a Jedi recover from that kind of embarrassment.

I also don't understand why, everytime a light saber is dropped, it shuts off? I never noticed the Jedis making sure the tether was hooked up, so if they drop it, it automatically shuts off. Besides, safety tethers don't spell out intimidation. They just don't. Maybe light sabers don't take a jolt well?

I also don't understand why a light saber has an on switch. The same Jedi that can use the power of the force to recover the light saber knocked from his hand can't use the force to turn the saber on and off? That seems like the first rule of Jedi safety. "make sure the switch is on the inside so only Jedis can turn it off and on, that way you don't get jacked by some random asswipe who grabs your light saber when you aren't looking."

And regarding the off and on switch...If I was a Jedi locked in ultimate light saber combat (no, there is almost no way to make that sound more gay) I would not wait to use the power of the force to recover my dropped light saber. Nor would I use the power of the force to try and drop something really heavy on my opponents head, or to throw large heavy objects at him. He of course has these same abilities and will block all this stuff. Seeing my foe, I would start to charge from across the x-wing hanger bay. My foe, in an obvious frenzied bloodlust, would turn his light saber on and and begin searching the hanger bay for something huge to lob at me by using the force while scraping his light saber on stuff so it makes that shocking menacing sound and sparks. I would continue to charge him, using the force to make his special Jedi underpants too small and tight, also way too hot. My foe, not realizing this was possible by using the force, would quit scanning the hanger bay, and would pretty much take his eyes off me, his mind changing from ultimate doom to saving his precious, now squeezed and burning, Jedi jewels from utter destruction. Realizing at the last second that I am almost within striking distance, he would pull himself together, despite the horrendous pain, and swing his saber at me. Unflinching, I would use the power of the force to turn his light saber off, and turn mine on, in one easy easy, unblocked swing, I would cut my opponent in half, his last words would be thank you because dying is sweet sweet relief, both in general but especially to his now haggard and burning Jedi sack.

Wild cock

If I would have been faster on the draw, I would have had a picture of it. I passed a rooster on the way to work. Do roosters graze? Maybe they eat small pebbles? This one was doing whatever roosters do, but it was doing it by the side of the freeway. This would not have surprised me if I lived in say, Texas, Oklahoma, Arkansas, Kansas, Missouri or any other midwestern flyover. But this is Southern California. Seriously, who brought a rooster here? Around here a rooster is an exotic pet, much like a bangle or a panda or a great white shark. Who lets their prized possession, their beloved exotic, rare rooster run around next to a freeway where someone might shoot it... Strange times indeed.

Travel naked!

No, seriously, I like it. I like to be treated like I did something wrong. If you don't know what the back scatter x-ray machine is, or what it does, here is a little catch up reading:
http://www.swdtimes.com/swdtimes/2007/031307/story1.html http://www.ny1.com/ny1/content/index.jsp?stid=10&aid=67062 http://www.dailytimes.com.pk/default.asp?page=2007%5C03%5C08%5Cstory_8-3-2007_pg7_5 http://www.usatoday.com/travel/flights/2007-02-26-backscatter-usat_x.htm

Pick one, read them all, or search for a different one, they all kinda say the same thing. The TSA wants to see my sack, that's what it comes down to. And really, I kinda want them to see it. They would weep tears of joy, for a more beautiful sack has never been seen with backscatter x-ray.

I understand the need for security. I do. I don't want the plane I am on used as a missile. But it seems to me we are headed toward ruining our own freedom. I guess it is better that we ruin it instead of letting someone else ruin it for us.

I think, instead of the backscatter x-ray deal, we should just begin traveling naked. I like to travel and I have been on enough planes to know this isn't entirely appealing. I have seen plenty of people in airports that I would pay to never have to see them naked. But there is always a person or two who I wouldn't mind seeing naked. And I know I have been asked many many times to be seen naked, I am just that smoking hot. You know that I am.

I think if we all begin to travel naked, not only will there be no need for backscatter x-rays, strip searches, pat downs, shoe removal, and maybe even metal detectors, but we will be taking a step toward freedom, not away from it. Freedom from the restrictions of masking who we really are, with pants, and shirts. Free from the restrictions of ill fitting cheap clothing. Freedom to see each other for who we really are. Freedom and desire to go on huge diet and exercise programs. Freedom to feel awful about who we are and what we look like. All kinds of freedom. And I hope the airlines feel free to cover the seats in butcher paper that they change after every single flight, or I am also going to feel free to stand in the airplane the entire time no mater what that damn seat belt sign or the naked captain says.

Freeb!rds

Last week, around this time, I was in Austin Texas. Some friends of mine took me to eat at Freeb!rds. If you are in the Austin area, I reccomend it. In fact, I am still thinking about it because it was really yum. Bonus points if you are good at sculpting with tinfoil. Anyways, all though the food was super good, it isn't why I bring up Freeb!rds. I bring it up because the location I ate at is on Bee Cave Rd. Do you have any idea how happy I am that I didn't not find the bee cave the road is named after? A freaking cave full of bees, and one so horrible that a road got named after it. I didn't travel the entire road, but I am sure some of the crossroads are stungtodeath lane, blood poisoning way, I can't breath because my throught is swollen ave, damnit all these stingers really hurt rd, CRAP! a cave full of bees, since when are caves full of bees parkway, that last one is kind of a long street name, and I didn't look on google maps, but I am pretty sure it is there. I imagine DANGER rd leads right to the mouth of the cave. I hope Freeb!rds isn't near the mouth of the cave. Next time I am in Austin, I wanna eat there again, but I want nothing to do with a cave full of bees. They ought to nuke the cave from orbit.

Fry's fry's fry's....

I went to Fry's today to return something, obviously, and also to buy a card reader. The line for the return was fast. By fast I mean my friend "Jay" and I stood where a line would be if anyone else was in it while a pack of Fry's employees stood by the first register doing I don't know what for a minute or two until the pack broke up and one of them could help us. Mighty white of that guy to help us, I was beginning to think it was a self return register where I took care of the process on my own.

Anyways, he did as much of the return as he could, until he had to yell out, "need a key" then another guy had to come down and push some buttons on the register. A minute of button pushing and talking amongst themselves later, the second guy called out "manager" to which a third guy came over and pushed a few buttons. I didn't buy weapons grade uranium. I didn't buy that hardcore porn that is not legal in most states. I didn't buy an exotic pet. I bought a gig of ram and then returned it. Still in its package... That took 3 guys.

The goings on at Fry's I find extremely interesting from a business point of view. I am not a business genius, so Fry's business practices are a bit foreign to me. It's to be expected, I got a BA, not a BS or MBA. I would think that a business would want to have easy methods for accomplishing daily menial tasks. 3 employees needed for one simple return of a common product seems....excessive. I would love to see a flow chart for this kind of process. I am sure at Fry's they refer to them as "Process Labyrinths"

I purchased my card reader, which I can't hardly wait to return. "Jay" purchased some blank DVD's. On the way out, the guys who are there ostensibly to check receipts didn't break there conversation. Obviously the discussion of the guy's dad's pants was too important. My receipt checker didn't look at the product in my bag, nor did he bother to even look at me. I wish I could see the pants they were talking about, those pants must be more glorious then 3-way sex.

Soda machines lie.

Twice now in a week, a machine has lied to me. I kinda thought it was rock awesome how soda machines these days report on their internal temperatures. A machine that says it's a frosty 32 degrees inside means to me I am going to get an icey cold beverage. One that is cooled to somewhere around the same temperature as what the machine reports. However, it occurs to me now that there are some key bits of information missing in that report. If it is going to tell me how cold it is in there, it should mention the last time it shut off as well as the last time it was opened up to be restalked. We all know that if you bring a bottle of soda home from the store and put it in the freezer (and the freezer actually freezes things, unlike a soda machine, so if your freezer blinks its internal temperature, it would report colder than a soda machine for sure) and take that same bottle of soda out 2 minutes later, it isn't cold. In fact, it is unpleasantly warm, like the diet soda I am drinking now. Unpleasantly warn, bitch-ass lying soda machine.

Whooppss

I totally missed posting for the Month of Feb. My bad. Turns out it is March now. I found some notes of some things I meant to blog, but didn't.

I intended to write about some horrible diseases, horrible disease that are made up. Diseases like Louisiana crotch moss, Philadelphia drip, Kentucky festering legions, Seattle Shankers... Really the Seattle Shankers sound a lot more like a Bastketball or Hockey team than a disease. I am sure I must have confused my notes of made up stuff that sounds like diseases, and made up diseases that sound like sports teams. Again, my bad, it has been awhile and my notes of things I thought of awhile ago and didn't blog are kinda hazy. The notes are hazy, and my memory is hazy, everything is hazy. Seattle Shanker is also listed on my notes of made up cereal killers. But then it is just the one person, The Shanker, as apposed to The Shankers, which would be a sports team from Seattle. In my list of made up diseases I forgot Korean Black Rose, seriously, don't get that. Just because you can get a little action in Korea for 5 dollars American doesn't mean it is a good idea. Korean Black Rose is not a laughing matter.

In other news, I wrote a definition of irony as it relates to Alanis Morosett, or as I like to call her, Alanis. If you don't know the lyrics to her song "isn't it ironic" I encourage you to go here and search for them.

If you are in the position of the woman in the song, and your expectation when meeting the man of your dreams is to fall in love and develop a relationship, than it is, in fact, ironic when you meet the man of your dreams then meet his beautiful wife. The irony is in the nonconforming or incongruity in the sequence of events. If you expect that when A happens, B will follow, but instead when A happens, there is an unexpected outcome, say L because who the hell expected L? The resulting state is irony.

I know I know, unrelated. I didn't beg you to read this blog, ok maybe I did...
Doesn't shankalepsey sound awful? I would hate to have it, whatever it is. Have a good March, if I think about it, I will post again soon, I am sure you can all hardly wait.