Friday, July 29, 2005

Guard Your Privates

I just went to heat up my pathetic Lean Cuisine dinner and I happened to glance through one of our engineering areas to where there's a window. You can see outside and what a beautiful sunset I'm missing, goddamit. I wish I could leave, get a 12 pack and sit on a beach somewhere with a hot chicky-boo and enjoy it. Instead I must sit in the bowels of this giant building and baby sit our fucking network and field any calls from morons who wonder why their laptops get pop-ups for gay porn web sites all the time.

At least it's almost the weekend. 48 hours of non work = bliss. The only pain this weekend will be Saturday night. My band is playing out. The actual playing isn't the problem. I love that. It's the putting a P.A. system together, lugging all the shit there and back, hoping everyone shows up, trying to remember who is playing bass, etc. It sucks. I'm getting too old for it. Good thing we only play about twice a year now. But if I could afford it, I would be in a band full time as long as there were roadies. And crank gobblin' groupies.

So I will leave you fuckers with some political blatherings for the weekend. Those of you who hate politics, or my take on politics, or who are above it all can fast forward to next week. See you guys at the gig.

I can't believe the limeys off'd an innocent guy thinking he was a terrorist. That's the kind of shit we would do. As a matter of fact, I still can't believe the bloody British fell for the whole Iraq war bullshit. Americans are far more gullible than the English. We believe just about anything our government and its propagandists tell us much like I'm sure the North Korean peasants do. All you have to do is wave a flag and it's like hypnosis. The Brits are more critical of their leaders and don't fall for yahooery like we in the colonies do. But you can't own a handgun over there so fuck 'em.

The Republicans are licking their chops at filling the Supreme Court with right wing jackasses. You might not think its a big deal but their main target isn't even banning abortion so much as it's getting rid of the right to privacy (which is what Roe vs. Wade and some other hated decisions are based on). God, they detest the right to privacy. What they want is the government meddling into all aspects of our lives. This is perhaps why libertarians hate GW more than liberals do.

I thought it was a laugh riot when wife swapping, doctor shopping, pill popping government propagandist Rush Dimbulb had a scrape with the law recently and the gummint wanted his medical records for the case against him. The ACLU brought a right to privacy suit to prevent his records from being released! Now, the ACLU and the right to privacy are both on Rush's short list of things he fucking hates the most. Perhaps not anymore.

Oh, and by the way, fuck Manny Ramirez. If that simpleton is too sensitive to cope with the invasion of his privacy by this area's sports fans, then I will take his fucking $20 million a year and take the heat for him. I would at least pretend to run out ground balls.

Thursday, July 28, 2005

Windows Balls

So, I should be doing my month end report. Well fuck that shit. I'm going to blog instead. Of course you are the beneficiaries of this decision.

We have a new name for our moron Russian intern here at work. It's "Turnyourheadandkov." He hasn't been around for a couple days, probably due to a nasty bout of gay bowel syndrome. Next time I see that man-loving Menshevik, I will mention to him that I know a couple of Latvians. That will keep him the fuck away from me for sure. This was suggested to me by Duke Cravenator who is married to one of those lovely Latvians.

My band Jupiter 2 is playing this weekend at The Blue Mermaid in Portsmouth. It's always a slow motion car wreck when we play there. The last time we were there I attacked and almost killed my pal and then keyboard player Marc on stage. It was a funny scene. I think Brian Coleman will be our bass player for the gig although you never know. We tried to get one practice in for the event but the power blew in the practice space so we just sat in the dark and drank beer instead. At least that went well.

Now here's something. The next version of Windows will be known as "Windows Vista." How fucking lame is that? Its working title was "Longhorn." I guess that sounded too manly for a guy who named his company Microsoft. So let's come up with some alternatives for Mr. Gates to name his new OS with. I suggest "Ventanas Cojones." Picture a TV commercial that has some artsy fartsy, horned rimmed bespeckled, sperm burping, metrosexual using the new Apple OS. The voice over (James Earl Jones?) asks "What is your operating system?" The guy replies in a weak little lispy voice "OS Ten." Then it cuts to inside a Spanish villa and you hear bursting minor key flamenco guitar. "And what is your operating system?" the voice booms. Antonio Banderas turns around from a computer desk wearing his Zorro cape. He grabs his nuts and says in his growling, manly Latino way "Ventanas Cojones!"

Shit! Our CIO (Chief Information Officer) just called! I hope I didn't embarrass myself. Maybe I should just get back to work.

Tuesday, July 26, 2005

Degenerate In Space

The space shuttle finally went up today. What a ride it must be! Millions of horsepower. You’re in outer space within 8 minutes. Wearing a well soiled space suit no doubt. I would love to take a ride in that thing.

Remember the "Teacher In Space" program they had? It ended tragically with fellow NH native Christa McAuliffe’s fiery plunge into the Atlantic. But, regardless, I think they should have a "Degenerate In Space" program. As long as the cargo bay had plenty of beer in it, I would sign up for that program. I could even do some important scientific experiments while I was up there like growing sea-monkeys in a weightless environment.

Knowing my luck, the gamma radiation from the sun combined with spilled PBR in their water would cause the sea-monkeys to mutate into some horrible man-eating monsters with super intelligence. There would be a pitched battle with the beasts until we killed enough of them to regain control of the orbiter and land safely. Of course a super-sea-monkey would survive and hi-jinx would ensue. Note to self: Bring gun on trip to space.

Being an IT fag, I might even be able to help out with some of the computers on board the space shuttle. Hell, the technology isn't exactly cutting edge. I would have to brush up on Windows 3.1. If something went wrong, I could maybe be put to work testing vacuum tubes. Hopefully they have one of those big tube testers like the local Radio Shack used to have in the 60's.

And I have an extensive background in rocketry. Just ask any of my relatives. One of my many achievements was sending a plastic Mr.T doll into the exosphere on top of a three stage rocket I built. He safely parachuted into the hands of the recovery team no worse for the experience other than a slightly melted ass.

At the very least, I could go along as added security. Everyone knows that since the days of the Mercury astronauts, UFO's have been lurking in the background keeping an eye on man's progress towards the stars. I'm sure one of these days, the little green bastards will try to shoot a grappling ray onto the shuttle and steal it along with it's astronauts in order to do experiments. Not with me on board! I'm not letting E.T. anal probe me or any of my fellow astronauts for that matter. They would be met with a blast of double-aught buck. Note to self: Borrow Cod God's 12 gauge before trip into space.

And finally, I could also serve as the bar tender for the trip. I would mix drinks and freeze dry them so they could be consumed in a weightless environment. Maybe I would even get lucky with some hot female astronaut. We could test out angular momentum together. I would start spinning with my wang hanging out while she took her suit off. As my erection grew, my spinning would slow.

Tuesday, July 19, 2005

Fuck Mondays With A pressure Treated 4X4

I hate Mondays with a seething, burning hatred that borders on the pathological. Weekends just can't last long enough. Why can't we be like the Europeans and have more time off? Cause we is A-merkins goddamnit! We must be productive and produce so we can spend and consume. Fuck that. I want to live in a commune. Preferably, one with lots of topless hippie chicks willing to go down like power windows. I wouldn't last long, though. One Phish song and I would punch someone.

Our dip-shit Russian intern was at it again today. That fucking Trotskyite turd-burgler just can't leave my stuff alone. I have a collection of important floppy disks on my desk that I found strewn all over my cube today. It's a good thing he was already gone when I got in. He's definitely avoiding me. You would too if you knew my shoe would be up your ass next time you saw me.

Thursday, July 14, 2005

Break Some Divine Wind

When I got into work today, I almost tripped and killed myself. See, there is a rack next to my cube where we put dead computers and printers, etc. to be recycled. I guess our useless intern, who has so thoroughly invaded my space, had nothing better to do today than to take a couple old computers apart. Maybe he thought he could get some vacuum tubes out of them to send back to Mother Russia and help power the next revolution. Well that Bolshevik sumbitch left the parts strewn all over the floor. I kid you not. Good thing he had gone home otherwise he would have an ATX motherboard and power supply up his rooski rectum. I mean, how did these guys beat the Germans in WWII? I think I might sneak some arsenic into his Clearasil.

Well enough about him. Let's talk about some real fucking assholes. Like that brain-dead spider monkey we call a president. Is there anyone left out there who believes a word that comes out of the administration's mouth? Or any of their minions like government propagandists Rush Dimbulb, Sean Handjob, or Fox "News"? If you do, then I have some land in Florida that Elvis lives on that you can have if you send money to Nigeria. And I will have a blog devoted entirely to this Karl Rove fiasco soon. Lucky you.

Ah, and now, speaking of Fox "News", I will expound upon one of my biggest pet peeves: Whenever one of these unwashed, brain-washed, evil Islamic fundamentalists straps on a bomb and blows himself up along with innocent people, Fox calls it a "homicide bombing." As I recall, the reason they do this is because Israel briefly labeled suicide bombers "homicide bombers” a few years ago. Seems the act itself isn't heinous enough so they had to find a better label for it. Well Fox decided that they would follow Israel’s lead. And to this day are the only ones who use the term "homicide bomber."

It does make for some hilarious Fox headlines. Like "Police Suspect London Bombings The Result Of Homicide Bombers." No shit. I ask you - if the bombs were remotely detonated by these people as originally thought, would they not have been homicide bombings? Of course they would. All bombings that take lives are homicides! If Fox had been around in WWII would the headline have read "Japanese Homicide Pilots Attack 7th Fleet"??

The term “suicide bomber” is used to distinguish the act of killing one's self while in the act of killing others from other forms of bombings that kill, i.e. timed or remotely detonated bombs. They are all homicide bombs! Unfortunately Fox won't make this very important distinction. I happen to think that suicide bombings are far more evil and take it to a new level than just your run-of-the-mill remote bombings. It shows the psychotic religious fanaticism of these fiends. But Fox has its own bazaar right wing agenda and couldn't care less about the accuracy of its news.

Well, I think I gave BFace enough fodder to make fun of me for one night. Plus I have to clean up my goddamned cube.

Wednesday, July 13, 2005

Positive Mental 'Tude

I now have this reputation around here at work of breaking things. Not literally, mind you, but things seem to blow up during my shift all the time. One week it's the domain controller, the next week it's the main SQL server. I think it's because I have this cloud of doom and gloom that I carry around with me all the time. I'm always convinced really bad things will happen to me if I don't worry constantly. I feel if I let my guard down and feel happy for just one second, the world will come crashing down around me. Maybe I should start reading self help books and fool myself in to believing everything is OK.

Speaking of work, that limp-wristed Leninist who has invaded my cube is a real piece of work. I walked buy him the other day and said "what's up?" He looked at me all bewildered and said something like "ehyahagh." I don't think it was a real word even in Russian. Then I caught the dimwit installing more programs on my computer. I said "just what the hell are you doing?" he mumbled something about testing installs. I told him he'd better not break my computer or I would go "Rasputin on his ass." He said "Rasputin, ha ha!"

Someone came by to pick up his personal computer that I had been working on in my cube today. The imbecilic intern was there working on his homework or something equally useless. I said to the guy as he got his computer "This thing is running too slowly - you need more than 128 megs RAM for a Windows XP machine, as a matter of fact…" at which point the retarded Russian interrupted and said, trying to sound authoritative, "yes, you are needink meenimum of, m-m-m-m, 256." I looked at him and snapped "who asked your opinion? Besides, as I was about to say, 512 is what I would recommend." Yeesh.

Well I must go. Yes, you guessed it. In the 5min it took me to write this, part of our network went down. Does anyone have a copy of the latest Dr. Phil book they can lend me?

Monday, July 11, 2005

Way Back

One of my all time favorite books is "Ball Four" by Jim Bouton (it was the very first "tell all" sports books and it started a trend that continues to this day, unfortunately, with the recent publication of that horse's rectum Jose Canseco's book). In it, Bouton makes the statement "baseball is an ass" referring to the people who run the game, not the game itself. So true.

I have a very clear memory of listening to the 1965 World Series on my mother's little red Sony transistor radio (which I still have to this day and listen to ball games with) when I was 6 years old. The name Sandy Koufax was magical to me. A few years later while living in England, I would play football (soccer) for hours on end but dream of playing baseball. In short, I love the game. And I would love to fucking throttle baseball commissioner Bud Selig for trying so hard to muck it up.

Since it's Monday and it's busy here at work, I don't have the time to itemize the litany of complaints I have against Selig and the other swinging dicks that run (ruin) the great game of baseball. But I will bring up one that I think is one of the most important: The All star Game and World series start too late.

For example, if I was 6 years old today, I wouldn't get a chance to see the All Star home run competition that started tonight at 8PM. Most little kids are in bed by then. Whatever you think of this contrived competition, kids love home runs and it’s a "blast" to watch. And I would not have been able to listen to Sandy Koufax pitch in the World Series if the first pitch wasn't thrown until 9PM. I would probably grow up to be into something homoerotic like American football.

I know, I know. In the scheme of things it doesn't really matter. I was even going to vent about Karl Rove in my blog tonight. But then I thought that if I ever curtailed my drunken, gallivanting ways long enough to settle down and find a nice girl willing to put up with my crap, maybe I would like to have some kids. And pass on my love for baseball. As if kids these days would ever care for such a slow, boring sport.

Don't worry folks. I will be back to my obscene, scatological ways tomorrow. And I'm working up a big one for Mr. Rove.

Saturday, July 09, 2005

Time For A New Life

Woe-is-fuckin-me. Guess what happened last night? My dishwasher broke! I'm not kidding. How ironic, especially after my last blog. I think the poor thing committed suicide thinking it was going to be captured by NASA and shot into a comet. A replacement is $400!!! Do you know how much drinking that is? Jesus, the last thing I want to spend my money on is an appliance. I could get another gun, for chrissakes. But considering what slobs my roommates are, I'm going to have to suck it up and get a new dishwasher. Fuck!

The new intern at work, Uri or Dmitri or whatever the fuck his name is, is more than making himself at home in my cube. I came in the other day and said "How come you aren't running around doing things like everyone else is?" I think he said that he was waiting until our manager came back from vacation. That's next week you commie goober! He was at my computer doing his damned homework. Then the next day when I asked him if he had done anything at all that day he said "I workink on laptop." Whoop-dee-fucking-doo. Now today I noticed that the Stalinist ass-stabber has installed programs onto my computer! Good thing he was nowhere in sight when I discovered this otherwise there would have been an international incident. I am going to put a BIOS password on my computer just to fuck him up. And leave a tack on the chair.

And to top it all off, tonight I smashed my right index finger in the fire proof cabinet that we keep some of our back up tapes in. Its all swollen and blue and hurts like hell. I'm typing even slower than before.

I just hope that my immature roommate Buzz has left me some whiskey so when I get home I can swim in it.

[I just got home from work. The above blog was written during the 5 minute dinner that I allow myself if there is no shit storm on the horizon. Right after I finished, our production SQL server went down. Without going into the gory details, it totally blew dog. A perfect ending to a perfectly shitty week. Not to worry, though. A couple more shots of JD and I will be fine.]

Wednesday, July 06, 2005

Music Of The 800LB Enema

Did any of you guys check out the NASA Deep Impact mission that sent part of a space craft hurtling into the path of an oncoming comet? No? Probably too busy watching sitcoms or reality TV, huh? Well let me tell you about it. They sent a dishwasher sized probe into this comet to see what would happen. Good thing it wasn't my goddamned dishwasher they used - I love that thing. Anyway, it made quite a spectacular explosion as witnessed by the impactor’s nearby mother ship and various telescopes.

I love the mind set. Astronomers used to be content just observing celestial objects like planets, moons and comets. Then they got into landing spacecraft on them with or with out humans to get an even closer look. Now they just want to fuck them up! “Music of the spheres” my ass! What’s next? Why, blowing them up of course. I've always wanted to work for NASA since I was a kid and now more so than ever.

As of this writing, the comet, Temple 1, is still spewing shit out of the impact crater. So much so they can't yet determine how big the crater is. I think there are two potential areas for concern. One is the obvious - the impact of the probe will have sent this New York City sized comet out of its orbit and towards the earth. Hopefully towards NYC itself while the Yankees are at home.

The second concern I have is that maybe Temple 1 is home to some strange and vicious aliens who have been entombed for millions of years only to be unleashed when the probe blew a hole in it. Stranger things have happened - just look who is president. Maybe the comet itself is a single giant alien and we just gave it a 13,000MPH 800LB copper enema.

I won't sleep well tonight, I tell you. Not because I'm afraid of aliens or comets hitting the earth. I will be awake all night guarding my beloved dishwasher from those NASA fuckers.

Post Vacation Reds

Vacations are only good up to a point. And that point is the point at which the vacation ends. I came into work today after a few days off. Now keep in mind that when I get to work at 4:00PM it's usually like a scene out of ER except substitute computers for patients. And when the folks see me stroll in, it's their ticket home! "Bob can you do this, Bob can you do that, could you just finish this for me, So-and-so had a hard drive failure and needs it replaced and the data retrieved before he comes back from dinner and I have to go home to water my cat."

Well, I got in a little late today due to the amount of traffic still heading south after the 4th of July weekend. When I barged into my cube, I almost didn't notice the person sitting in my chair. Almost sat on his lap. I looked at him and said "Who the hell are you?" "I am being eentern" replied the pimply faced dweeb in a thick Russian or Eastern European accent. "Intern?" I snapped, "Interred will be more like it if you don't get out of my chair now!"

The poor jack-ass didn't know what to think judging from the stupid, slack-jawed expression on his pock-marked face. He got up to leave when I told him to sit down and relax. I spend the first part of my shift in the Network Operating Center anyway. "But please don't screw with my things, OK?" And I grabbed my Office 2003 reference book out of his hands. "And what is your name, intern?" He mumbled something that sounded like "Uri." God, he has bad breath. I tossed the book back to him and said "Welcome aboard, we can use the help."

Good. Now I have someone I can crap all over instead of the other way around. I just hope they don't put him on my shift for any training. That would suck. Why couldn't they get a cute chick intern?

I've just hunted down a label maker and I'm labeling all my shit.