How To Win Friends And Influence People When You’re All Dead Inside

No, seriously.  How?

Because I am almost out of ideas.  I have added staff.  I have committed resources.  I have promised rewards for those lumpen proles who please my corporate masters.  I have brought the sword to those who have stumbled and fallen short of the minimum requirements of their position.

 

UNEMPLOYMENT.  You’re soaking in it, motherfucker.

 

And yet, the downward spiral continues.  Just today, I was mentioning to our managers how we used to have this same lack of motivation and piss-poor attitude in the Dallas office, years ago.  “Oh, really?  Well, how did they turn it around, Jeff?”

 

THEY DIDN’T.

 

I feel like the dickhead in Glengarry Glen Ross.  “Third prize is you’re fired.  Oh – have I got your attention now?”  What really pisses me off is that we have some really good employees who are in danger of losing their jobs because their managers and their co-workers don’t give a fuck if they lose this client and ALL their jobs along with it.  Because they’re a bunch of Johnny Punchclock motherfuckers who’ll just bounce from one entry-level job to the next until they figure out how to claim permanent disability from Carpal Tunnel Syndrome or Moldovian dick-rot from banging the girl with the thick accent and weird cat-eye eyeliner thing.  The Makeup Gun was definitely set to “whore” for that one.

 

The obvious answer is to replace everyone.  The problem is that there is no time.  And now the cocksuckers who got themselves into this mess are the ones who I have to motivate to get us out of this mess.  More importantly, you fine people are going for days without fresh dick jokes, vulgarity and vitriol.  I had a primer about the Game of Thrones novels in mind, but I’ve either been at work, at home logged into work, or drinking away the rage between logging off and falling asleep so I can do it all over again.  More later, but I’m so fucking tired right now.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Look At This Shameful Bullshit

There’s a reason that professional soccer hasn’t really caught on in America.  Part of it is that it’s a low-scoring game, often ending in ties, a condition usually unsatisfying to American audiences who are conditioned to offensively-weighted battles on the football field, basketball court and baseball diamond.  Part of it is that it is a complex game, full of complex yet subtle intracacies of positioning and defensive maneuvering.

But mostly, because it is a stupid sport championed by the biggest pussies on the planet:  Europeans.

Saturday night, The Empress of Jeff, myself and another couple were winding down after dinner in a local pub, which had the Euro Cup 2012 game between Russia and Greece playing on several televisions.  We were having a good time ignoring it and drinking beer when my friend’s eyes got wide and he said, “Would you Look. At. This. Shit.”

I spun around in my seat to see a Greek soccer player rolling around on the turf, clutching his leg in agony.  Big fucking deal – these soccer pussies are constantly taking dives and screwing their faces up in agony;  you’d swear they had blown an ACL – but then they hop right back up after a few seconds and keep playing, like the little bitches they are.

But this dude wasn’t getting up.  Next thing you know, a stretcher crew is on the way out to get him, and I’m feeling kind of like an asshole.

 

***CLAP CLAP CLAP*** “‘s’alright, buddy! Good hustle out there!”

 

And as soon as his stretcher got to the sidelines, HE HOPPED OFF THAT MOTHERFUCKER AND RAN BACK ONTO THE FIELD.

 

Yeah. It’s a miracle. Fuck you, lameass.

 

Greece goes on to win, partly because they don’t stop the clock in soccer for any reason, so this faking cocksucker eats up 5 minutes of the clock, and nobody does a damn thing.  In what fucking society is this looked upon as okay?

IN EUROPEAN SOCIETY.

No wonder their bullshit economic clusterfucked Eurozone experiment is swirling down the shitter – look who makes up the test subjects!  Weak, craven, devious and shameless.  Why the fuck would we ever pay good money to sit in a stadium and watch 90 minutes of underweight nancy-boys pretend to be injured, while we pretend to be concerned only to pretend to then call it “strategy” when it is revealed, AGAIN, that the “athlete” on the field clutching his leg like Lawrence Taylor just snapped that motherfucker in half is faking it?

Not in my country, you hairy-backed savages.  This is exactly why we had to go over there twice in the last century to unfuck your slapfights.  We don’t need you infecting our brave men with your weakness.

BONUS PUSSY SOCCER FOOTAGE:

Sandusky: “It’s Not Like I Raped ALL of Them.”

I don’t know if you’ve ever heard the Bob Costas interview with Jerry Sandusky.  Creepy.  Very creepy.  And not at all helpful in establishing his innocence.  It went something like this (paraphrased):

COSTAS:  “Are you attracted to young boys?”

SANDUSKY:  “Well, I’ve always been attracted to young people.  I enjoy being close to them.”

BZZZZZZZZT!!!

The correct answer was “NO!  Of course not!”  But this creepy bastard kept skirting around the questions, like he was trying to defend his actions without coming right out and saying he was a child-rapist.  I thought it was bad enough.  But that was only the parts that NBC decided to air.  The parts that were the LEAST creepy.

It got worse.

Sandusky reflected on how some of his interactions with children may have been misinterpreted, but hey, look at all the thousands of kids that HAVEN’T accused me of raping them.  I mean, percentage wise, that’s pretty good, right? Right?

Costas then challenged Joe Paterno’s one-time defensive coordinator, saying,  “But isn’t what you’re just describing the classic MO of many pedophiles? And  that is that they gain the trust of young people, they don’t necessarily abuse  every young person. There were hundreds, if not thousands, of young boys you  came into contact with, but there are allegations that at least eight of them  were victimized.

“So it’s entirely  possible that you could’ve helped young boy A in some way that was not  objectionable while horribly taking advantage of young boy B, C, D and E. Isn’t  that possible?” Costas asked Sandusky during the interview.

Sandusky gave an unusual reply.

“Well — you might think that. I don’t know. In terms of —  my relationship with so many, many young people. I would — I would guess that  there are many young people who would come forward. Many more young people who  would come forward and say that my methods and — and what I had done for them  made a very positive impact on their life.

And I didn’t go around seeking out every young person for  sexual needs that I’ve helped. There are many that I didn’t have — I hardly had  any contact with who I have helped in many, many ways,” he added.

Yeeeeeaaaaaaahhhh…

Once again, you’re refusing to deny that you raped several children.  On video.

I’m thinking you’re going away for a very long time, shitbird.  Hell ain’t hot enough for vermin like you, but I guess it’ll do.

 

Silent But Deadly: The Urban Bikefag Menace

You see them on the streets every day – slowing down traffic by taking up just enough of the lane so that no one can pass without risking slamming head-on into oncoming traffic.

Alone, they are irritating, usually causing no more than a half-minute’s delay before the opportunity presents itself to jerk the wheel around them and cathartically mash the accelerator to the floor as a proxy for stomping the shit out of the snotty, entitled shithead holding up the entire planet.

In packs, they are a spandex uniformed, grape-smuggling rolling goatfuck, collectively emitting enough raw douchebag pheromone to send the mildest motorist into paroxysms of profanity-spewing road rage.

MOOOOVE! I KEELL YOU! I KEEEEELLL YOU AAAALLLLLL!!!

They hinder. They irritate. They annoy.

And now, THEY KILL.

San Francisco prosecutors said they would file felony vehicular manslaughter  charges against a bicyclist who allegedly hit and killed a pedestrian, in a case  that has become a flash point for debate over bicyclists’ rights in the  city.

The manslaughter charges — unusually stiff for a bicycle accident — stem  from a March 29 incident, when 36-year-old bicyclist Chris Bucchere allegedly  ran a red traffic light and plowed into 71-year-old Sutchi Hui in a crosswalk.  Hui died on April 2 of injuries related to the collision, The Wall Street  Journal reported Saturday.

This is the problem with these assholes.  They’re constantly beaking off about how they have the same “rights” as car drivers to be on the road.  What they NEVER talk about, or even acknowledge, is that they also have the same RESPONSIBILITIES as any other vehicle operator.  Stopping at stop signs?  Fuck that, I don’t want to have to switch gears, so I’ll just make a left turn in front of you and blaze through that three-way intersection, causing three cars to slam on their brakes.

Fuck you and your sissy-assed ball-hugging shorts, you selfish jerkoffs.  You’re not a “peloton.”  You’re a bunch of annoying dicks.  Take one of those bananas that you so ostentatiously display in the back pocket of your spandex shirt and shove it up your ass.  It’s about time that one of you were charged with a serious crime for your self-centered asshattery.

Now scoot the fuck over before you taste some truck side-mirror, asshole.  You’re making me late for work.

Happy Fathers Day, Mother%@#&*!

Unless your son looks like this:

 

I HATE YOU, DAD.

 

Or your daughter looks like this:

 

Nothing says “Daddy Issues” like ten feet of cold, greasy brass.

 Of course, if those are your kids, you at least won’t have to worry about cooking for them today.  Unless you’re cooking meth.

For the rest of you who gave a shit enough to play catch with your boy and keep your little girl off the pole, Happy Father’s Day.  Hug ’em tight.

Your Monkey Boy Has Returned

I apologize for the long absence.  This past week has seen me entirely absorbed in the ongoing turmoil at work.  Tasked (very late) with analyzing and reversing the spiraling downtrend of an underperforming division, we’ve lost one ten-year client this week and have been put on notice by another long-time client.  Both of the managers in this division are twenty-year company men, so my work environment as of late has been a gladiatorial combat arena of backbiting, recriminations, feather-smoothing, blame shifting, finger pointing, denials, obfuscations, veiled threats and emotional beatings.

So, like… pretty good but just busier than normal.

But no matter how bad your job seems at times, it could always be worse.

For all its planes and vans mapping out the world, there have been places even Google cannot reach.

Now thanks to its latest weapon, the internet giant will be able to chart everywhere from the depths of the jungle to the narrowest city alley.

Its backpack camera, which is carried by a trekker on foot, will be able to get to places that Google wings and wheels cannot.

The device, a more portable version of its controversial Street View cameras, is able to go ‘offroad’, potentially photographing and mapping everywhere from the base of the Grand Canyon to the top of Everest.

Yay.  These assholes aren’t intrusive enough with their car-mounted perv-cameras and packet-sniffing Espionage Mobiles.  Let’s see what “portable” looks like, shall we?

 

PORTABLE.
You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means.

 

Awesome.  On a side note, did you ever imagine that this would be the face of Big Brother?  Or that your first reaction to seeing someone wearing this rig wouldn’t be fear, dread or despair but rather the urge to issue swirlies, wedgies and Purple Nerples?

And sure, the fucking geekwads tasked with lugging this ungainly Dildo Pack are going to have the muscular strength and endurance to lug the fucking thing up and down the Grand Canyon.  Right.  The real answer is that the view from the street isn’t explicit enough, so expect to see this thing through the slit in your curtains, watching you shamefully fap to your collection of Japanese anime.

 

That’s right, Sailor Moon. Daddy’s got some tentacle for you.

 

I expect next week to be even more fun, but I do believe I can manage to sneak in a few posts.  Happy Father’s Day to all you Morons out there who have kids.  I am looking forward to grilling some animal flesh and sleeping off my meat hangover in the shade.

 

 

 

Auxiliary Moron Command Center Now Online

I’m sure you already are aware, but another link won’t hurt.

Andy, Moron Cob-logger and poster at The Hostages, has set up a blog to mirror AoSHQ posts and provide moderated commenting at http://acedark.wordpress.com

That’ll have to do until Pixy gets registration set up at the HQ.  Which I take to mean – might as well get comfortable.

 

UPDATE:  I don’t know who the fuck “Bill” is and I don’t care to speculate on what your motivation is.  So let me explain it to you like this:  trying to slide in your bullshit unsubstantiated accusations on a dead post about BK or anybody else isn’t going to work, fucko.  I get an instant email notification, log your IP address and then delete your comment.  This is the same type of fuckery that caused Ace to go dark and I’m not having it.

Knock it the fuck off.

We Are All Bl@zer Now: Why Ace of Spades Went Dark

So, yesterday was the Great American Blog-Out in support of all the victims of Brett Kimberlin’s legal harassment of his critics, and the extra-legal (and illegal) harassment and threats made by his followers.  Specifically, SWATting.

So, Ace put up his post here.  Well written, impassioned and sad, because in the comments, Ace revealed that he would not be accepting the Breitbart award, due to concerns over his physical safety.  He was unnecessarily hard on himself, as usual, and as usual, most of us tried to buck him up with humor.

And then some commenters lost their fucking minds and started writing these types of comments:

“Pussy.  I’d have gone because I ain’t a-skeered of no man.”

Ok, fine.  Ignorant as fuck for many reasons, but fine by community standards.  And then along came “Jimmah.”

Jimmah decided that he was going to take on all comers, including Ace.  He was going to throw down the gauntlet, dare anyone to come and get him.  Sue me.  SWAT me.  Go after my job, because I’m self-employed.  You can’t hurt me.

And by the way, here’s my name, address and telephone number. 

What a fucking asshole.  Here’s why you’re an asshole, Jimmah.  You can say all of those things you want to say about Kimberlin.  You can even directly threaten Kimberlin.  DO IT ON YOUR OWN BLOG, YOU FUCKING PUSSY.  You don’t have the right to drag other people into your bullshit.  And if you’re such a tough guy, why are you hiding behind Ace’s skirt, Jimmah?

1. Because it’s safe.  You’ve got Ace to take the hit for you.  These people aren’t going after commenters, they’re going after blog proprietors.  The legal argument this guy is going to make is that if Ace had the ability, through moderation, banning or implementing a registration system to control or delete offensive posts, and still didn’t do so, that he was effectively condoning and encouraging ASSHOLES LIKE YOU to make threatening comments on his site.  It ain’t a good argument, but it was enough to get Aaron Worthing arrested for violating a peace order.  FOR COMMENTS ASSHOLES LIKE YOU MADE.  Yeah, it’ll get overturned, but one senile judge can cause inconvenience and thousands of dollars in legal bills.  Fucking dick.
2. Because you’re a fucking NOBODY.  You could start your own blog for free on WordPress or Blogspot, but you won’t because nobody will ever see the Internet Tough Guy bullshit you write.  And if the wrong person saw it and came after you legally, no one would rally to help you out BECAUSE YOU’RE A FUCKING ASSHOLE.

Perhaps it was inevitable that Ace would eventually have to move to comments registration, but it’s still sad to see the community change.  As I was just explaining to my wife, It Ain’t Worth It.  How much of a man’s time must be stolen to tilt nipple to some fucking baby who can’t quit squalling?  Fuck that.  For all of our teasing Ace about being a RINO pussy, he’s given us more freedom to behave like adults, as long as we weren’t abusing anyone, than any other site on the innertubes.  This type of community doesn’t exist anywhere.  ANYWHERE.

Congratulations, “Jimmah.”  You finally found a way to fuck it up for everyone.  Hope you take the gas pipe, shitball.

P.S. Fuck you.

UR DOIN IT WRONG: The Brett Kimberlin Story

As you’re all aware, Ace has called for a National Blogger Day of Silence, in protest of the thuggish tactics convicted perjurer, drug smuggler and domestic terrorist Brett “The Speedway Bomber” and his asshole friends have been employing to attempt to silence his critics and erase his criminal past.

Bang up job, dummy. Everyone had pretty much let you get away with erasing the Wikipedia pages on you and your crimes.

Oops.

Nobody would have even remembered you, but you had to be a dick about it. Enjoying your notoriety? You created it. Now you’ve gotten the attention of at least one US Senator and a US Representative. Silencing your critics: UR DOIN IT WRONG, BRETT.

So, anyway, today a bunch of well-known bloggers are having a National Day of Silence to encourage you to write your Congresscritters about this man, his friends, and their assault on your First Amendment rights. Here’s a good place to start.

Brace For Impact, You Hippy Filth

Remember that tsunami that hit Japan a year ago, wrecking the Fukushima nuclear reactor and coastal cities, killing thousands and sucking millions of tons of shit out into the ocean?

Well, shit floats. And that shit is about to wash up on the shores of California.

Items ranging in size from a 164-foot shrimping vessel to a soccer ball have already made their way into North American waters following the March 2011 tsunami in Japan.

Environmentalists fear this is just the first wave of an estimated 1.5 million tons of debris that is in the ocean following the tsunami, much of which could land on U.S. shores.

Concrete docks, dead bodies, houses, soccer balls, cars… it’s all coming. The shit storm.

You know what a shit barometer is, Bubbles? It measures the shit pressure in the air. You feel it? Listen, Bubs, hear that? The sound of the whispering winds of shit. You will, my sorry friend. when the shit barometer rises, you’ll feel it too. Your ears will implode from the shit pressure….shit winds are a-comin’.

– Jim Lahey, Sunnyvale Trailer Park Supervisor

Oh, and one more thing, California – how are you going to pay for the cleanup ? You’re BROKE.

Oh, that’s right. I’m going to pick up the tab. As usual.