Remember that old Police tune?

The sky turned to black
Would he ever come back?
They would climb a high dune
They would pray to the moon
But he’d never return
So the sisters would burn
As their eyes searched the land
With their cups still full of sand…

     I’ve heard the same line so many times, “It’s not you, it’s me.”  I’ve heard more than that … way more … enough to make many men feel they were God … and yet …

     And yet …

     …

     .

     *shrug*

     I don’t …

So, I’m pretty much sick of thinking and talking about Paris and Lindsey.  I’m over Anna Nicole, her monasery of man whores and her kid. 

Thank God there was something fun in the news today!

This dude, err, chick, err, well I think its still a dude, Robert Kosilek, wants the state of Massachusetts to pay for his sex change surgery.

Um. Yah.  He just isn’t happy being a he and isn’t going to be happy living as a he anymore, dammit!

Whatever.  This asshat killed his wife in 1990 after she dumped hot tea on his testicles.  I’d probably have dumped hot tea on his testicles too, but I would have run for the hills and not looked back.  Apparently she wasn’t that smart and he strangled her.  How I don’t know.  I can only assume that if I had hot tea spill on my nuts, I’d be in the fetal position crying like a baby.

Anyhoo.  So, this guy has been in jail for murder for many moons.  Now, I don’t know about ya’ll, but I am all for swift offing of anybody who is a murderer.  I mean, why are we wasting our tax dollars on feeding and showering these folks?  I am not tolerant of blatent evil or being mean for the sake of it, but I think there are way too many murderers, child molesters, and rapists in prison, living the good life, instead of getting a needle in the vein.

And this jack ass wants the state to pay to remove his penis and give him a vagina?   If they do it, I hope he gets molested by the biggest, baddest man in the prison. 

Any Tom, Harry, or Dick in society would be fighting with a multitude of shrinks to get the sex change, not to mention spending a small fortune on the operation itself.  How in the world could his request even have gotten so far as to have made it into court?  And not only did it make it into the courts, but an obscene amount of money has been spent on mental evaluations of this guy because he keeps threatening suicide.  Good God, let him do it!

Dang, give me the needle or let me have control of the switch, I’ll euthanize him and save the fine tax paying citizens of Mass. a whole lot of money.

There are two types of people who write checks at the counter these days:

• Construction workers who have gigantic checks often in gigantic books
• Old ladies with gigantic purses

I will allow for the former, but the later is making me crazy. This is 2007! Why are you still writing checks? Men don’t write checks because we don’t carry around a piece of luggage to hold the damned things. And we don’t enjoy writing in cursive. I think this may be part of the issue. Women enjoy writing in cursive.

And I think it may be a class of people who have more time than anything. That’s the only explanation for not just the ungodly slow check writing process, but also for the makes-me-want-to-strangle-them act of waiting until they get a total to pull out the billy club of a wallet and start actually putting pen to paper! They live in a world where time is not an issue. A land that time forgot.

I know this rant will have no impact because the Luddites that still write checks are not on the freakin’ internet reading blogs. If they have a computer, it is collecting dust in the other room after they got online and clicked where they should not have and now when they turn it on they immediately get 25 porn pop-ups.

I swear, last time I was behind one of these old ladies I nearly grabbed her checkbook and ripped it to shreds and screamed “use the freakin’ card they sent you slow ass bitch!”

ON DEMAND!!!!   Yes!

 Every so often I get bored and turn on the boob-tube.  As usual, I am sorely disappointed that I pay SATAN (Comcast blog) a hundred bucks or so a month for 197 channels on which there is not a damn thing to watch.

However, there is a slight redeeming quality to my personal hate of beelzebub.  On-Demand!  Yay!

Now where else will one find such an unlimited supply of good stuff?

My joy stems from the fact that I found TubeTime, and this isn’t the first time I’ve experienced such utter happiness.

Today, I found *sniffle, tear* Fantasy Island, my friends!  How could I possibly  resist?  

Well, what other show can take viewers into the past, into the future, into kinky love affairs? 

But wait! That’s not all, folks!  Your host for the journey is a sexy dude, with orange skin, a white leisure suit, and a midget!

Some freaky crap went on there on Fantasy Island…  Scary, sometime criminal things.  You know how warped folks can be when they are fantasizing. Anyhoo, Mr. Rork, lets these demented people have their freaky fantasy (generally with ill results waiting in the wings), only to step in at the last second and save the day!

At the end of the day, all visitors get a lei and fly off on ZEEEplane. 

Wow.  On-Demand!  You’re my hero.

It’s funny to me when someone who you thought of as a friend will put money in front of friendship. Personally, I think that this leads you down the road to a very crappy worldview. But it is somewhat interesting to see how people will act over the essence of probable money. It can turn pseudo-friend into worse that foe; former lovers into insult slinging buffoons or business partners into vicious tax collectors. Unfortunately for me this is an overly large let down. For love of God, you would think that the loss of a loved or the end of ties one would cause all parties involved to want to remember the happy memories of the passed. Never would it drive a wedge between friends or even those you considered almost like family.

Why the reason for the sudden cutting of ties? Simply because one person received something from a loved one that was not a member of his or her biological family. This very seldom thing occurs when debt that should have vanished and be non-existent or sheer greed takes over the body. Now a person in this situation must deal with the repercussions of their own poor decision in order to fulfill a desperate need for attention. It is as if they never got enough time, money, or caring sentiments from anyone. (Which a majority of the other people involved know to be false.)

Second example, the insult slinging buffoon, however is also very similar in behavior to the scum sucking relative. He or she will differ in that during the separation process, he or she will sling names at your friends, family, and your own person. I for instance have become a “vindictive, selfish, unloving, unmotivated, immoral, c*#$sucking a$$hole.”

If I had not realized that this was coming from an insensitive, psychopathic, and lying cesspool of a person I would be taken aback.  I hate when a lover-ship sours like a nice white wine. At some point you never get what you invested. Nor do you come anywhere near close to where you started and it sucks the big one. By that point, the only thing unknown about the relationship is how long with the other party keep pestering you?

The worst candidate for pestering you is the business partner when that relationship goes sour. They are slightly more annoying since more of your personal finances tend to be tied into your business. In the same token there is fortunately more distance sometime since it is a legal partnership and can be broken with the assistance of a fabulous mediator. (Wonderful counselor, the prince of peace… well okay, maybe it’s not quite such a divine intervention, it just seems that way sometimes.)

Generally, the repercussions with any of these can (with my involved will,) end on a positive note. In the end the people who irritate or criticize me with no ground to stand on usually go away and leave me be. They quit calling, don’t e-mail, or write letters. Those who choose to drag it out, cause a scene, and raise a ruckus should seek professional help. Why not? Lord knows I will if I fall victim to dealing with any of these unpleasantries.

That’s the question I heard as I picked up my to go order. I thought it deserved saying again.

People get murdered every day.

Why did this particular event become the headline? Why do I care at all about this particular event hundreds of miles from me and unrelated to anyone I know?

Why is this headline news on all the networks? Does anyone ever ask that at the network? Does anyone ever ask if they are hurting or helping both the victims and their families, and the viewers? Does anything but sensationalism and ratings matter?

I really don’t give a shit about these headline stories. They have absolutely nothing to do with me or anyone I remotely know.

News should matter to the viewers. It should have some relationship to their lives. It should not be a slow drive by a crash on the highway.

That’s sick.

Monday Melee

1. The Misanthtropic: Name something (about humanity) you absolutely hate.

I hate the fact that there are so many awful people out there that would wait until their wife/girlfriend/lover is about to burst at the seams with impending child birth and kill them.  I mean, come on.  If a man is cheating, or doesn’t want a baby, or whatever… WALK OUT ASSHOLE!  Don’t kill her because you are a bottom-feeding freak of nature. 

Don’t prey on someone who is in too vunerable a condition to be able to appropriately fight back.  She (and her baby) has a right to live.

Pure evil.

And, as usual, drama queens and attention whores will forever be something I just loathe.

2. The Meretricious: Expose something or someone that’s phony, fraudulent or bogus.

I have only one in mind, and I’m not so sure it would be a good thing.  So, since I can’t say something nice today, I’ll keep my yap shut.  ZZZZZip.

I will expose myself though.  I am a complete fake.  I am not the sweet, kind, loving, caring, angelic individual that you all know and love.

3. The Malcontent: Name something you’re unhappy with.

I’m unhappy that I am simply not a morning person.  I would go so far as to say I’m anti-morning.  I manage to drag myself out of bed just in time to have a shower, pour some coffee down my throat and drive to work with my head hanging out the window in order to get that wicked windblown look. So, I am unhappy that I can’t appreciate a new day any earlier than 5:00pm.

4. The Meritorious: Give someone credit for something and name it if you can.

Today I give my fiancee complete and total credit for putting up with my constant string of shit.  I generally give him a run for his money.  But, lately I’ve been extremely emotional (imagine that) and have been taking him on the rollercoaster ride of the century.  Lately I’ve been worse than a spoiled 5 year old.  He over looks my sarcasm most of the time and doesn’t take it totally personal.  Go Tony.  You’re one hell of a man, man.

5. The Mirror: See something good about yourself and name it.

I think it’s good that I can admit being a total ass-munch.  See #4.

6. The Make-Believe: Name something you wish for.

This week to hurry and be over.  We go on vacation next week.  So, all the good stuff I wished for on last week’s Melee may just come true. 

At least the cold beer and sex part.

Go Diva, Go Diva, Go Diva

Now it’s your turn.

You can take part in The Monday Melee, even make it a regular feature at your site by visiting The Monday Melee page and following the steps. Kick-start your brain on Mondays and meet other bloggers.

Monday Melee

1. The Misanthtropic: Name something (about humanity) you absolutely hate.

I really hate when coworkers taunt one another. Why are some people so incapable of accepting their own faults and weaknesses that they point out every fault and weakness in someone else as a ridiculous attempt to feel superior? I’m the fearless leader who gets to build a team with young’uns like this. Where’s that play pen?

2. The Meretricious: Expose something or someone that’s phony, fraudulent or bogus.

Coke adds life. (Would you believe me if I told you I haven’t watched TV, or commercials, in a really long time?) Coke used to add life, before the Moral Majority got ahold of the recipe. Now all Coke adds are big hips, zits, and tooth decay.

3. The Malcontent: Name something you’re unhappy with.

Cat hair notwithstanding, I really hate being confused over the appropriate use of the ‘b’ word versus the ‘c’ word, like there is anything appropriate about either word. Big thanks to Mark and Zacque for clearing that one up for me.

4. The Meritorious: Give someone credit for something and name it if you can.

The Shakespearean Insulter… dis ‘em with style.

5. The Mirror: See something good about yourself and name it.

I don’t have a ’special purpose,’ but I am bright enough to consult Freud’s library and learn to deal with the envy.

6. The Make-Believe: Name something you wish for.

I wish for a hammock under a thatched roof, a Calypso band, and a plentiful supply of Goombay Smash.

Now it’s your turn.

You can take part in The Monday Melee, even make it a regular feature at your site by visiting The Monday Melee page and following the steps. Kick-start your brain on Mondays and meet other bloggers.

     A little while back, I did a review about the reacTable, a table-top music synthesizer.  People loved it.  So when Microsoft comes up with Microsoft Surface, people are going insane on the Microsoft-bashing bandwagon.

     Check this out …

(Video: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6VfpVYYQzHs)

     Sorry, cool stuff.

     Still, a lot of people are screaming that, ”Microsoft is inventing a product which there’s no need for!”
     My honest opinion says that that those types of short-sighted Asshats can suck a big one.

(Video: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bZuGClKRDtc)

     Whether or not some people see a need for it or not is irrelevant.  There certainly are uses for it now.  Think in terms of business and Government, where untold sums of money are spent on Conference Calls, cameras, long distance charges, couriers, paper documents, signatures…
     Imagine the ability to slide a signed digital document across the desk to a guy sitting across the country … or at a manufacturing facility in Singapore … sending a design specification, and getting back photos of a prototype … having a Sales & Marketing meeting, complete with fresh demographic material from a country you’ve never been to …
     Imagine the ability for a President to learn about a culture by reading interacting with their representative … being able to read their material, on the fly … forging a pact … stopping a war … signing an International Peace Accord.

     Coming from the Asshat line of thinking, we had bonfires, so who needed a fireplace?  We had fireplaces, so why have an oven?  The oven was fine, so who needs a microwave?  Seriously, why have a refrigerator when we were perfactly happen asking the ice-man to come into our cellars and fill the icebox?  Why did we need telephones when we could visit?  Why did we need cellphones when we had perfectly good landlines?  Why did we need e-mail when we had a perfectly good postal system?  Why did we need the Internet at all?

     Innovation is great.  It helps fulfill our quest to better ourselves, and when used correctly, allows us to be more productive.

(Video: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Cog8b8ojji0)

     I have to admit, however, that the little show when they sit my drink on the bar is definitely gonna distract me from watching the carbonation rise to a head in my Guinness…

[ Blogged in realtime, Wednesday, 20-Jun-2007, kinda like that stupid TV show 24, but without that asshat kid of Donald Sutherland's... ]

Here we are folks.  It’s a wonderfully balmy Wednesday night at CatScratch Jane’s.  I’m sitting with a bird’s eye view of all the going’s on.  Karaoke is getting ready to kick off and it looks as if all the regular crowd (good and bad) has started peppering in.

The Twin Blow Out is starting here tomorrow, but the biker boys on their motor-scooters are plentiful.  The patio’s a-buzzing, the inside is buzzing.  We’re looking forward to an eventful night.  Bring on the singers.

A real blow-out, right?  Uh. No.  It’s another train-wreck.  That’s what I get for being all amp’d up for a party!  Thus far we have heard a not-so-right-on rendition of “Live and Let Die” (help me!).  Now we are on to the worst drunken interpretation of “You Look So Good In Love” that I’ve ever heard… whining included.

The place is packed.  Folks are piled up everywhere, inside and out.  I’m dying for a beer.  But dammit, it’s busy.  I’m going to wither up and fall in the floor from lack of alcohol.  But as I sit here, waiting for Cutie Pie (our beer wench) to surface, I think to myself “Damn, girl!  You’re hair looks gooood!”

Finally!  A hot guy is getting up to sing.  I missed his name, but he’s wearing a polo shirt and baseball cap.  He’s singing Toby!  You go, boy!  Mercy me, yes.  He sure should have been a cowboy.

I’m still waiting on my beer.  It’s nearly 10pm.  Through the open windows I hear the clank of the triangle being busted by a gaggle of pool shooting biker boys.  Now and then a loud, orgasmic burst of noise comes when one of the bikes fire up.  

Ya know, Christmas is coming up.  Harley.  Under the tree.  Big red bow.  Thanks in advance to whomever decides to make this purchase for me.  I’m obliged.

Finally, at 9:55pm, Mark drags his ass in.  ”Log the time, Scotty!”  He has mercy and goes to hunt Cutie Pie for my beer.  Bless you, hon.  I was withering.

By 10 I’m thinking, “I thought this was going to be the kick off to a bad ass biker weekend party… it’s more like B-97.5 night in the local geriatric ward.”  Never has an hour seemed more like ten.  Never have I wanted someone to shoot me in the ears worse than I do right this very minute.  “Log the time, Scotty!”

10:01.  Scotty is so excited to be here that he’s taken to watching the drag queens on the t.v. above the bar.  *snicker*  You dirty boy, you.  But wait:  Here comes Nike!  He’s belting out some bad ass Lionel Ritchie love song,  The boy possesses the ability to wake up a bored and otherwise depressed drinking crowd.

Oh my, what’s this?  The heavens have opened up and some good singers with some happy ditties are now on a roll.  Joe hops up and belts out a soulful blues number (he really rocks the hell out of the blues).  Now if we can talk him into losing his “Bat Outta Hell” CD… *wink wink*  You know I love ya, Joe.

I belted out some goodies too, if I do say so myself.  I dueted with Cowboy Billy-Joe-Tom-Bob and sang “Dontcha.”  He kicks ass on the rap part.  Freestyle baby!

I then attempted to do the night justice, with Nike’s help, by belting out “At Last” … the Etta James classic.  Choice.  Very choice.

My news reporter skills are being diminished by the amount of cold beer and Jack Daniels I have consumed.  At this time, all I can really say is that everytime I get up from my corner booth, I end up grabbing this poor girls ass.  So, I end up making light of it, in my regular Diva style.  I own up to it.  I look her in the eye and tell her, “I’m sorry for grabbing your ass everytime I get walk by!”

“Log the time, Scotty!”  It’s 11:14, and I’m drunk. Food ordered. Yah!  I comment to Scotty that we are evil.  He says “No, we’re just honest.”  Good one.

Finally.  Something note-worthy.  A drunken skank finally falls out of her chair into the floor.  NEXT!  Scotty dies laughing, and notes the time is 11:23.

Food on tap.  CatScratch has the best food around.  Especially if too much alcohol has been consumed.  Cue the onion rings.

And the french fries.

Scotty is in the loo, so I’m logging the time as 11:34. 

So, if tonight was any forecast of the drunken festivities that are to go on for the next several days at CatScratch… all I can say is WOW!  Good luck with that!

I maintain here and now, I’m Diva enough to stay on the porch, because I certainly can’t keep up with the big dogs.  *rolls eyes*

Woof!  Out.