What Is Wrong With People

So, this is a post about shitting. Specifically, about me shitting. So, if you don’t want to read about me shitting or about shitting generally, you may just move on.

I usually shit every day at 4:30 right after my day at work. It’s just when it happens, and getting it done before my admittedly short drive home just makes the drive a happier experience. I could wait because my home is literally less than a mile away from where I work. But that’s a longer distance if you’ve gone eight hours without shitting. Plus, it makes it possible to run errands on the way home, which I would not want to attempt without shitting before leaving the work-job. I generally despise shitting in a public restroom, but this just seems to be better strategic move and better logistically. Plus that time seems to be a fairly low-volume time for the men’s in the front. So: I leave my stuff at my desk, I clock out, I go shit, I wash my hands, then I go get my stuff and leave. It works. Usually.

Except today, I had to shit at lunchtime, which is usually about 2 p.m. I mean, you know. HAD to.

So I clocked out and made my way to the front head. I was in luck. It was completely empty. I made my way to my favorite stall (the one where rolling out the TP sounds like a TARDIS engine), prepped, and sat. Now this was going to be a particularly farty shit. There is no denying this. I knew it. I even gave an initial courtesy flush during the initial run. And bear in mind my position: The handicapped stall is to my right and there are at least four other stalls to my left. I am literally the only shitter in the room.

So I’m executing this ladylike shit of mine, and a guy walks in. And he doesn’t hesitate. His gait has no pause, no pondering, no decisions in it, no weighing out values and societal norms. He hears the farting shitting mess in my stall and decides yeah man. I wanna sit in the stall next to that. And, he does. He enters the stall right next to me, despite his embarrassing wealth of choices farther way, and he preps up, sits down, and proceeds to blow his nose.

I’m appalled. I’m taken aback, and I’m certainly feeling shy. What the living fuck? Dude had a fat luxury of many stalls away from me, and his choice is to have a poop buddy? I thought about introducing myself, maybe going for daps under the wall, hey man, how’s it hangin, that kind of thing. Instead, I decided…you wanted to sit next to this? You got it, pal.

I gave it everything I had. No courtesy flushing. No shyness. I just exhausted every bit of supply I had, as quickly, as noisily, and as mercilessly as I possibly could. Then I finished my ablutions and went my merry way.

But. Seriously people. There are rules. I think it’s in the Constitution somewhere.

Happy New Year 2019

I think the most astonishing thing about 2018 was that Childish Gambino dropped “This Is America” all the way back in May, and not much changed. I found that work to be so astonishing, so direct, so urgent that I half expected it to plunge a sword into the planet and cause a massive ripple of awareness planet-wide. But instead it dried up and blew away just like the Charles Atlas bully said, just like everything does.

It is 2019 now for 26 minutes, and I am watching the entertainment on the ABC. The first music I heard in 2019 was a live performance by somebody named Post Malone. There was no band, not even a group of stand-ins pretending to be a band, just him, just this guy saying these things into a microphone as if he’s singing. Now this other chick is on the TV lip-syncing something into a microphone. And the weird part to me is that all the kids in the audience know all the words to all of these songs, and they’re singing along like she’s singing “Free Bird.” Okay wait, I figured it out. The one on my TV right now is somebody named Camila Cabello, and she is singing her new hit single, “I’ll Never Be The Same.”

I sure am glad I don’t have to like that shitty music. There’s enough good music that I don’t have to know all the words to Post Malone songs and Camila Cabello songs.

Well, nothing to do but toast with a shot of Jager and go to sleep. I gotta work tomorrow. Yes, that’s right. I’m one of the suckers working New Year’s Day. Woot.

He’s Such A Charmer Oh No

Sunday 9-23-2018

At Least He Did The Research
“[Josh] Russell’s interest in rooting out online disinformation began during the 2016 presidential election. He wasn’t exactly a Donald Trump supporter, but he knew he didn’t like Hillary Clinton. He also was part of the gamer community, which he described as ‘very far-right.’

“After his wife got into an argument on Facebook with a person who made what Russell called some ‘wild claims’ about Clinton, he decided to explore his dislike for the Democratic presidential candidate. He slowly realized much of what he believed about her was wrong.” (Indiana dad hunts Russian trolls online, USA Toady, today)


Maybe There Is A God
The 12th and final season of the inane television program The Big Bang Theory premieres at 8 p.m. Monday.


Murphy Brown’s Back
“If Hillary Clinton was elected, there’d be no artistic reason for this show to be on the air. But because of the election and because the position the press is now findng itself in, there were so many reasons for this show to come back. This isn’t a money grab. This isn’t a ‘let’s go out for one more swing at the fences.’ This was: We need to do this show.” (Steve Peterman, an executive producer who worked on the original Murphy Brown, regarding the show’s upcoming reboot, as quoted in today’s New York Times.)


Dr. Who?
“If I don’t get it, can I still play a monster?”
(Jodie Whittaker’s remembered response when Dr. Who showrunner Chris Chibnall assured her he wanted her to audition for the title role. Source, today’s New York Times.)


Huh.

Apple Keynote

I think of all the points made in today’s Apple keynote, the most overlooked will be the message from Apple executive Lisa Jackson. She was on the dais today to address Apple’s commitment to the environment.

She touted, for example, that 93 percent of Apple’s operations worldwide currently run on renewable energy, with 100 percent compliance to this goal in the United States, China, and Singapore.

She also announced that the newest iPhones are using recycled tin in their logic boards and cover glass that’s 32 percent bio-based plastic.

Jackson said, and I think this is the vital part to me, that helpful in working toward this goal is that Apple needs to make devices last as long as possible.

I think this is where the company delivers. I mean you can still upgrade a supportable OS all the way back to iPhone 5S, a device that was introduced in 2013.

From my own perspective, I own an iPhone 5, which is no longer supported. That is concern number one; I hate to carry around a device that can no longer update OS. And, second, this phone will not pair with an Apple Watch (good news on that front, the Series 3 will have a nice price drop since they released Series 4 today).

Oh, and the volume rockers are stuck.

So I might upgrade shortly. I won’t be buying an iPhone X(whatever) nor a Series 4 watch. But I may not upgrade. Aside from the concern of a current OS, the phone works fine and was vastly improved once I treated myself to a set of Airpods.

Ya know, Android bois like to piss all over Apple products, especially when they’re releasing thousand-dollar phones and such. But yinz are largely missing the point.

iPhones last.

Enjoy your Android Pie.

You Will Have Swamp-Ass

So today is going to be a Swamp-Ass Labor Day. Glad I am sitting in a nice air-conditioned room with a desk and a computer.

Since I’ve been working 10-hour days, it’s been nice but difficult. Three-day weekends are nice. But by the end of day three, you feel like a lump. So last night I said FERGET IT. I did not make a breakfast shake. I did not pack additional breakfast nums. I took some screen time. I listened to the Lovesexy album. I ate an Aaron Burrito from the freezer.

Then I woke up this morning and realized the cafe here would not be open today. Oh, well. Nothing like a quick rip through the McDucky’s drive-through. Had to run a stupid red light not to be late.

Oh, well.

Hey. Here’s a nicely written piece of media criticism. Seriously, you should read it:

We are all Kim Wexler: “Better Call Saul” and the painful realities of mid-career crisis

YouTube Poops Dujour

She’s Like a Rainbow

I saw a rainbow today. I saw a fucking rainbow. That’s about where I was when I saw the rainbow. LOOK. I said. IT’S A FUCKING RAINBOW. FUCK YOU RAINBOW.

*

So first you have to know that a few months ago, I donated my Howard Stern library.

Private Parts, Miss America, and Artie Lange’s Too Fat to Fish, along with Gary Dell’abate’s They Call Me Baba Booey, all went. I wasn’t going to read them again, I figured. Let’s make some room.

Off they went. And I have been sore about it ever since.

I don’t even think the first two titles are any longer in print. I have sort of hated myself for doing this ever since. Really. How could you part with those?

*

I had plans to be in my own personal Star’s Hollow today, tomorrow, and Thursday. It’s three hours west. Yesterday, my car told me the engine was overheating. Which was ridiculous because the car had been sitting all night long. I ignored it. I ignored it and hit the road at about 8:45 a.m. today.

Just before the Clarence rest stop, I noticed the warning again. I looked at the temp guage on my dash and realized it was ALL THE WAY UP TO “H.” Mind you I am now one hour away from my apartment. I stopped at the rest stop. I went into the building to perform my ablutions. I then opened the hood and didn’t see anything weird. But then you have to remember that I dropped out of auto mechanic school.

So I closed the hood and started down the highway with the heater blasting to blow some of the heat off of the engine. This kept the needle pretty much at the middle. And I stopped at the first exit I could. And I found a Monroe Muffler.

The dude told me you might want to try going across the street first to get you some coolant and topping it off yourself because we charge a diagnosis fee. I did this and shortly thereafter tried to get back on the highway, whereas the needle immediately went back to WAY HOT DUDE. I made a patently illegal U-Turn and went back to Monroe Muffler.

The verdict eventually came down: Water pump. This, I now know, is a common issue in GM cars after 40,000 miles. It’s so common they make a “kit” for it. The dude had to go to another location to get the kit. So it was going to take a few hours. They offered to drop me somewhere. I said, I see a Tully’s over there.

So I’m eating a mediocre burger at a Tully’s and as it often happens I’m already naming the kids I’m going to have with the beautiful bartender, and I realize this is the same Tully’s my buddy and I visited last fall to kill time before the Pixies show, where we watched like four NFL games at once and had what was really the highlight of the trip (sorry Black Francis) and so that was a lovely coincidence. Allison, the bartender, noticed my reminiscing, and she stopped short at my barstool and said “hey. what’s up, hon. you okay?” And I told her the whole story of the last time I had been there, and she twirled her hair and said “awwww, that’s so nice,” and then she brushed my cheek with her hand and smiled.

Just kidding. The Wayfair wife would have been more attentive.

Anyway, so I had walked up and down the plaza, I stopped at a Barnes & Noble (this store did NOT sell CDs, which was weird), then at Bed Bath & Beyond (this store did NOT sell CDs, which is normal), and Best Buy (again, NO CDs. WTF is up, Buffalo?) Then I went back to Tully’s and Allison was extremely concerned and listened to me describe my plight and then she played with her necklace in that way she does and

oh fuck it you know that part is bullshit. I ordered another iced tea and drank it.

Now the Monroe shuttle had driven me to Tully’s. But I walked back. And across the street was this Goodwill store. I gazed across the other street to see if my car was still on the rack. It was. So I had more time to kill.

Let’s do thrifting, I figured.

For the record, this Goodwill store sells CDs, unlike the B&N in this neighborhood and the Best Buy in this neighborhood. And I happened to find one I’d been thinking about, the soundtrack to A Chorus Line. Yoink.

Then, I moved to the books. Three titles jumped out at me.

Private Parts. Miss America. Too Fat to Fish. All in hardcover. Yoink. Yoink. Yoink.

I spent four bucks. I recovered the bulk of my Howard Stern library. And I get to listen to DANCE TEN LOOKS THREE any friggin time I want.

The rest of my day was equally frustrating. The new water pump did not solve the problem. I ended up at a Chevy dealer doing initial troubleshooting and will be back there tomorrow hoping they can find the problem. I am staying at an EconoLodge and found the local Wegman’s incredibly confusing and they for some reason have no cider cold, and that was nearly a breaking point for this fella man I can’t tell you how the day was wearing on me at that moment

But I have nearly restored my Stern Show library, and if I didn’t know otherwise, I’d think that happened via some sort of providence. What a fucked up Rube Goldberg machine to reunite me with those precious tomes.

And a bababooey to ya’ll.

Sunday Morning

When I first arrived in Rochester and got my first job here, that job gave me what I thought then was a wonderful schedule. I worked Sunday through Thursday, with Friday and Saturday as my weekends.

I mean, what good are Sundays, right? Kind of useless days. I’m not a big church-goer. And Sunday always feels kind of sluggish anyways. One might as well get one’s first work shift over with while everyone else is at home watching 60 Minutes.

But the previous job offered Saturdays and Sundays off, and once I moved out of the shoebox downtown, Sundays became more pleasant. I watch Sunday Morning on CBS because I’m older than 45 and that’s the law. Then I watch Meet the Press, Face the Nation, and This Week. I genuflect for the loss of The McLaughlin Group. I cook eggs and bacon.

Sadly, the new gig put me back on Sunday – Thursday for a while. I could take my morning news shows with me via YouTubeTV, I found, but it just wasn’t the same. I grew to miss my Sundays.

So I was utterly crestfallen when the boss asked me last week if I would mind going back to Monday – Friday.

It was weird being home today as I had actually gotten accustomed to Sundays in that little room. But man, it is nice to have that rather selfish comfy time cursing at my television monging on my eggs.

Happy Oscar night.

Nicotine

I think what I’d like is an addiction that doesn’t affect your state of mind at all but that is instead an addiction that immediately becomes about maintenance. Also, I’d like it to interrupt my workday several times each day, to allow me to believe that it contributes somehow to my own social prowess, and to allow me to justify littering.

Also, can it be lethal and smelly?

That would be great.