A Little of This; A Little of That

Arby’s is running one of the lamest promotions ever. Their combo meals are priced at $5.01, and they’re distributing coupons good for 1¢ off. The accompanying tagline is “Worth Every Cent!” So…your food is worth the one penny the coupon covers? The coupon that’s not redeemable for cash? Doesn’t that technically make the food worthless? Too often the 2 A.M. brilliant marketing hook shrivels and dies in the harsh light of an 8 A.M. management meeting. This should have been one of those times.

I’d like to meet the person in charge of programming the music for our “Local on the 8s” Weather Channel segments. While most go for muted, stately orchestral pieces, our guy (it has to be a guy) chooses tracks from Steve Vai, Eric Johnson, and Joe Satriani. Not only am I sure it’s a dude picking these out, he has to be a Gen X-er, because those are all 80s guitar gods. I keep hoping for some Queensryche to underscore our Doppler.

I’m in the process of paying off the debt incurred during eighteen months of unemployment, and it’s kind of nerve-wracking, especially when dealing with credit card companies. Their license to anally rape their customers expires next February, so calling them is like sticking a finger in the piranha tank to test the water temperature. You barely get your account number out before they’re peppering you with questions about current contact information, place of employment, next of kin, aliases you might be using, message boards you read, and your Twitter handle. I dutifully gave over all of that at first, but then I realized Hey…why do they need all this? We have one relationship – fiduciary – and that’s coming to an end with this call (I’m paying them, not declaring bankruptcy, just to make that clear). With that insight, I’ve decided to totally fuck with them. I’m hoping the conversation will go like this:

“Thank you for calling Ben Dover & Smyle. How can I help you?”
“Hi. I’m calling to pay off my balance. My account number is [digits here].”
“Okay. And is your address still [blah blah blah]?”
“Well, sort of. I’m living in a rusted-out Mini-Winnie in the field behind the place. But Dave, the owner, throws my mail in the recycle bin instead of the garbage, so I can still read any letters you send me since they’re not covered in his secret sauce. That’s not a euphemism, by the way; Dave makes his living by entering barbecue chicken contests across the South.”
“Oooooo…kay. And how about a phone number?”
“I’m using Dave’s phone right now. He’s in Tuscaloosa until Thursday, so I forced my way into his wife’s back door. That’s not a euphemism, by the way; she has her own room off the deck, and the sliding door doesn’t latch right ever since the trailer slipped off the masonry block and threw the whole frame off plumb.”
“Where are you currently employed?”
“I’m in a band called Chuck U. Farley and the Horse He Rode in on. That is a euphemism, by the way. We do techno remixes of Barry Manilow songs. I play the banjo.”
[stunned silence]
“It’s a niche market.”
“Uh…anything steadier? Maybe with an address?”
“There’s the clinic where I sign up for all the drug trials. I try to stick to ones for new pills because a doctor examines you for those, and that’s like having insurance, you know? Sometimes I sign up for three or four at the same time because it’s an easy hundred bucks a month. I used to sell blood, too, but I can’t anymore because my liver’s failing from all the pills. On the other hand, my sperm count is way up. Doesn’t really help me, though. Since I stopped drinking, I‘ve noticed that there aren’t any pretty women at the bar anymore.”
“Uh…”
“Can we hurry this up? I’ve got a Bat Mitzvah in an hour and still need to tune my banjo for I Write the Songs. Did you know Barry didn’t write that? That’s what college folk and Alanis Morissette would call “irony.” I used to not know that. I think these pills are making me smarter.”

That One Looks Like A Spoiler -OR- Out! Out! Damned Spot

I found out recently that psychiatrists who still employ the Rorschach blots as a diagnostic tool jealously guard them, so potential patients can't study them beforehand. If the test had any merit at all, I could understand that, but since it fails every criterion as to what constitutes a valid, scientifically sound, and legally admissable diagnostic tool, I don't feel too bad about posting all of them in my blog.

It was interesting, too, to read the "rules" that guide the scoring of the test. They're so broad, every administrator is pretty much free to interpret them how they wish. Some will score against you if you rotate the card; others will score against you if you don't. You might get a "bad grade" if you answer too quickly, or if you take too long to answer. Some psychiatrists will drop your score if you don't confine your answer to the ink marks (seeing an image in the negative space, for example), or if you see too many things. Some will mark your score down if you say "That's a (whatever)" instead of "That looks like a (whatever)", as if the patient really believes that a drip of ink on cardstock has transformed into the (whatever).

I actually think Rorschach was testing the psychiatrists' reactions rather than the patients'.

One fairly consistent reaction across the board, apparently, is that all of the psychiatrists will react negatively if you tell them you see "an inkblot." But really, isn't that the literal truth? Wouldn't that indicate that the patient has a solid grip on the real world, not given to hallucinations or manias?

I have to offer this P.S.A. in connection with this post: If you are ever in a position where your state of mind is to be determined by a Rorschach test (like whether you're mentally competent enough to stand trial, for instance), you are supposed to let them know you have seen the cards, and request an alternate diagnostic tool. Use your own judgement as to whether or not you think holding that information back will give you an advantage.

Here are the cards, and my interpretations.

Plate 1

Evil bunny grinning at me, or two chihuahuas gnawing on one of those cat clocks.

Plate 2

Two Chinese peasants in DEVO hats high-fiving one another.

Plate 3

Okay, this one requires some backstory: when I was little, my grandparents went on a trip to Africa. They picked up a pair of carved wooden staues of "typical" village women. This image looks like those statues putting a tuxedo together.

Plate 4

Roadkill. Specifically, a rabbit run over by a motorcycle. (And he had four of 'em!)

Plate 5

Moth/butterfly/alligators hiding behind bushes/Martian angel/Icarus

Plate 6

Dragonfly towing a raccon skin, or a diver hitting a dry pool.

Plate 7

Two "Thumbs Up!" made out of paper, or Siamese ants joined at the abdomen.

Plate 8

Two chameleons perched on baboons and tearing apart a brick of frozen shredded wheat.

Plate 9

Two deer, heads cocked in a "Oh no you din't" attitude, stand behind bushes while four plucked hens await on the other side.

Plate 10

Seafood platter with calamari, crab claws, salmon, fried clams, and scallops.

In the negative space, I see a woman wearing (top to bottom): a tall headdress, an amber necklace, a pink cape, a blue bra, yellow garters, and green hose.

So...what have we learned?

Exhausting Meals and Shady Talent

Apparently our newest employee is a hummingbird. He’s one of these people that won’t (or can’t) look you in the eyes when he’s talking to you, and is constantly twitching around to look at other stuff. As we conversed over lunch, he appeared to be offering his observations to the table next to us, the plant in the corner, the television on the wall…anywhere but the guy across from him who’d asked the original question. Damn, dude…my autistic Cub makes more eye contact than you.

Now, I tend to focus on people’s mouths when they’re speaking, like I’m reading the words as they’re spoken. I’m sure it’s discomfiting, so I make an specific effort to meet their eyes often. Can’t do that if they’re not meeting yours, though. I put a damn crick in my neck trying to keep a sightline established. I’m surprised I didn’t choke on my cheeseburger.

Don’t think I’ll be having lunch with Spaz the Bobblehead again anytime soon; it was exhausting, and I don’t want to work that hard over a casual meal.

In other Business news, my boss and I were discussing Dubious Abilities, like being the best assassin, or the fastest thief. You can take pride in it because you’re the best, but you can’t really brag about it because it’s “not polite” or “illegal.” I’m sure there are certain circles in which you’d receive your due acknowledgement, but it kind of kills the chit-chat before the church service starts. “Oh me? I perfected a method of cheating the house in Roulette. What’d you do this week?”

Roundup

Bootlegging 2.0

On March 1st, Arkansas will institute a $0.56/pack tax on cigarettes. On April 1st, the new federal tax goes into effect, raising the price another $0.62/pack. The Arkansas Attorney General’s Office has stated that any Arkansas resident that drives across the Missouri border to purchase cigarettes is legally restricted from possessing any more than 1 carton and 1 pack (11 packs total) without an Arkansas tax stamp. If the value of the un-stamped tobacco in their possession is greater than $100, it’s a Class C felony, punishable by up to 3-10 years in prison.

The federal government punishes tobacco bootlegging of more than 300 cartons (3000 packs total) with a 5-year sentence.

These hicks are nucking futs.

***

One lump or two?

Speaking of taxation, groups in many states are recreating the Boston Tea Party on a local level to protest all both new taxes and hikes on existing taxes. Unfortunately, a group in Cedar Rapids doesn’t seem to have a clear idea about how to protest, as they asked a senior Environmental Office specialist for permission first. Turns out that tea is considered a pollutant, and discoloration is considered a violation. The Tea Party will instead water from buckets labeled “Tea” into the river. And not just any tap water, either – the group was told they’d have to let it sit out for a while first so the chlorine will evaporate, as chlorine is considered a pollutant.

“We don’t want to hurt the river,” said the group’s founder, Wussy McWuswus.

Uh…when you ask the entity you’re protesting for permission to protest, then meekly follow their guidelines on how to do it, you’re not really effecting any sort of change, you gutless cowards.

***

If I say White-Out, is that racist?

Speaking of “Change,” I guess the President “Change”d his mind on not allowing any sort of pork-barrel earmarks into the stimulus bill, as there are 9,427 of them – one of which, a $7.7 million earmark for Tribally-Controlled Postsecondary Vocational Institutions, lists Obama as a co-sponsor. But not to worry. Rob Blumenthal of the Senate Appropriations Committee assures us that in the next draft of the bill, they will remove Obama’s name from the list of sponsors.

I am fucking gobsmacked over the chutzpah of that announcement.

***

PORN!!!

According to a report from NewScientist, so-called “Red States” consume more online porn than so-called “Blue Staes.” I don’t know if that’s weighted according to population density, or if paging through a 20-page X-rated slide show counts as one visit or twenty, but there’s a simple explanation:

They’re all doing research like the guy from yesterday’s entry.

Actually, there’s a lot that’s lacking in this study in terms of correlation/causation. I think they ran it on their site because people in all states click on links with the word “Porn” in them.

***

Get over it. And get over it.

Two things I read about this week. One, a teen-aged girl in the UK described her job as “boring” on Facebook, and was surprised to find out that her bosses knew how to use the internet. She is completely clueless as to why she was fired after posting comments such as:

'first day at work. omg!! So dull!!''all i do is shred holepunch n scan paper!!! omg!''im so totally bord!!!'

Personally, I would have fired her for not knowing how to spell “bored.”

The other incident was reported on the Huffington Post by Lane Hudson, a man who presumably took so much crap growing up over being named “Lane” that he has to spread his utter lack of humor to as many people as possible.

On a United Airlines flight, the pilot made this statement:

“Ladies and Gentlemen, if you are on the left side of the plane, you will see a spectacular view of New York City and US Airways' new runway, the Hudson River.”

Was the comment on poor taste? Debatable. My first reaction was that of one professional good-naturedly ribbing a fellow professional in light of the heroic efforts he made to protect his passengers and crew. It was not a disaster, so we can be a little light-hearted about it.

Apparently, Lame…I mean, Lane…can’t, and he’s asking for people to help him track down this pilot so he can get him fired.

Someone’s still a virgin.

G4TV Uses Games to Lurer Young Boys Into Sin
http://christwire.org/2009/02/g4tv-uses-games-to-lurer-young-boys-into-sin/

“I’m in utter disgust this morning as I research this website G4TV. It is a classic case of “devil in sheeps clothing.” I could get into all the different way this filth is against God, but I want to focus on one show and mainly one person….Olivia Munn on Attack of the Show.

This female acts like she is into gaming, cartoons and nerds. What she is doing is, using this wool to lure young men into watching her and then she starts using her devil powers to expose them to breasts, uncovers legs, mouth sex acts, sexual suggestions and other unholy things.

Even her website is full of scum and sin. She posts photos of her half naked and posts videos partaking in simulated sexual acts. On her “blog” she tries to act like she is an every women, who loves regular men. We all know she is using this on youth to gain ratings and to drive traffic to her website, when in reality she is doing drugs with her high dollar pimps.”


I love the fact that this guy was “researching” the website. I’ve always wondered how these Evangelicals become aware of all the pornography and filth in mainstream pop culture. Hmmm…it’s a channel devoted to the interests of young men, you say? Gaming, cartoons, technology. Think girls might be another interest? Think the directors of programming know that? Think that may be why she was hired?

Let’s ignore the multitude of spelling, grammatical, and other orthographic errors in this foam-flecked screed, and focus on the important point:

Women have devil powers.

Well duh! Why do you think the human race has lasted this long?

Now I’ve got this song stuck in my head:

And Antiquated Notions

“Science has tried to assume a monopoly – or, rather, a tyranny – over our understanding of the world around us…We are only now beginning to understand the disastrous results of this outlook.”
-Prince Charles

“Screw that!” -Archimedes
“How self-centered.” -Copernicus
“He's obviously been hit on the head.” –Isaac Newton
“I’d like to beat him bloody.” -Hippocrates
“Does anyone understand this guy?” -Einstein
“I’m not certain he knows what he’s talking about.” -Heisenberg
“What is going on inside his head?” -Marie Curie
“I wash my hands of it.” -Louis Pasteur
“Did I hear him correctly?” -Marconi
“He’s not the brightest bulb in the lamp, is he?” -Thomas Edison
“England is so fucked.” -Sophistacat

Neo-Luddites have the answer. Or not.

The problem's plain to see,

Too much technology,

Machines to save our lives,

Machines de-humanize

-Styx; “Mr. Roboto”

I found this letter to the editor this morning, and have been giggling over it all day. Part of me hopes it’s satire, and part of me hopes it isn’t. I’ll let you read the whole thing first, because it all hangs together as a beautiful work of absurdity.

Curse of automation

Question: How do we get out of the recession?

When we went to work in the 1980s and '90s, we had to use our hands, backs, eyes, minds and feet to get a job done. Now, I consider that the 25 percent of the working population who used their minds have put 75 percent of the working population out of a job. How is that, you ask?

Remember the song about John Henry? He drove spikes into railroad ties to hold the track to the ties. But he was only one of many who were replaced by a machine that could do more for a lot less. This was called automation. Every time a machine is developed to do the job of more workers, this takes the food away from another family.

It was great when they developed the computer. Now look how many jobs it has taken away.

I am sure that there are a lot of jobs out there that could be done by one or two men for minimum wages. And if the nation would get together, we might get out of the mess made by all the rich people who have all the automated machinery.



Let’s parse this out, shall we?

Curse of automation

DAMN YOU, HENRY FORD!

Question: How do we get out of the recession?

Ironically, he never answers this question.

When we went to work in the 1980s and '90s, we had to use our hands, backs, eyes, minds and feet to get a job done.

Yep *adjusts suspenders* I ‘member back in the Golden days of the eight-oughts *spits ‘baccy* Nothin’ but hard toilin’ all day an’ all night *fiddles with hearing aid*It was us against th’ land, an’ we had t’ take what we wanted with both hands! Nobody gave us nothin’! *sneers* You kids today with yer fancy…machinery.

Now, I consider that the 25 percent of the working population who used their minds have put 75 percent of the working population out of a job. How is that, you ask?

No. What I ask is: With the Bureau of Labor Statistics reporting an unemployment rate of less than 8% nationally, where the fuck are you getting 75%?

Remember the song about John Henry? He drove spikes into railroad ties to hold the track to the ties. But he was only one of many who were replaced by a machine that could do more for a lot less.

I’m guessing that the author is a Union member, as John Henry is one of their favorite bedtime stories, reflecting on the soulless company that only wants to become more efficient instead of spending all of its money caring for its workers. I’m sure glad Unions have moved with the times, or else our auto manufacturers might get into trouble.

This was called automation.

Or “progress.” Take your pick.

Every time a machine is developed to do the job of more workers, this takes the food away from another family.

But not the families of:

· the engineers who designed the machine
· the people who provided the parts for it
· the assemblers who built it
· the software technicians who programmed it
· the transport people who delivered it
· the packaging people who protected it during transport
· the maintenance people who service it

It was great when they developed the computer. Now look how many jobs it has taken away.

Which computer? The ENIAC from 1946? Babbage’s Difference Engine from 1822? The abacus from 2300 BC?

I’m not sure if this guy is confusing computers with machinery, or if they’re equal in his mind. In any case, Google and Microsoft alone employ around 100,000 people directly, not to mention the thousands of independent contractors that work with them, and the millions of people that make their living in some sort of computer-related field. E-bay, WIRED magazine, Dell, YouTube, etc.

I don’t know of any workers directly replaced by a computer. The computer is a tool. That’s sort of like getting replaced by your stapler. Of course, computers are used to control machinery, which may be his main beef. Personally, I’d rather my car be assembled by robots that won’t be distracted by a fight with their wife when they’re installing the electronic braking system. It would also be comforting to have the retinal laser aimed at my iris guided by a computer rather than a guy who’s in all likelihood probably mostly sober.

I am sure that there are a lot of jobs out there that could be done by one or two men for minimum wages.

Or by one or two women for even less than that! Hopefully, these jobs don’t require precision tolerances. You know, like for designing bridges, airplanes, CAT scanners, or skyscrapers.

And if the nation would get together, we might get out of the mess made by all the rich people who have all the automated machinery.

This part is just dripping with class hatred, bitterness, and a flawed understanding of both basic business and modern life. I love it.

On second thought, this guy probably was replaced by a computer, as his boss probably would rather deal with Vista’s bullshit than his.