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Archive for January 2009

E-Mail Pet Peeves

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What is a peeve and does it really make for a good pet? Is it good with kids? Don’t know do you, doesn’t matter, that’s a topic for a different day.


E-Mail, boy howdy how I love and hate this monster, how could something be so wonderful and horrible at the same time?


It’s incredible to be able to send an electronic letter to anyone, anywhere in the world with a click of a button. It’s wonderful to be able to communicate with others in such an expedient manner, (when compared to time of traditional/standard letters delivered by the US post office). I think we lose sight of what a miracle that is and we certainly take it for granted, even when we’re without.


What drives me crazy about E-Mail? The following covers a few items I had.


  1. E-Mail isn’t special. Yes, I’m so pathetic I use to get excited about receiving a letter in my mail box, (then one outside my house just to clarify), but when you get hundreds of e-mails a day, the specialness wears off instantly.
  2. SPAM
  3. When people put there question (or e-mail body) in the subject line. You get an e-mail, you open it up and it’s blank. Very frustrating and I always feel like the sender thinks I’m a moron for opening it up, (applicable for those who receive notice of opening only) when they knew nothing was there.
  4. Much like point #1, there’s nothing personal about it. I’ve gotten letters from the IRS that are more personable and friendly than some “casual e-mails” I’ve received from co-workers/family/friends. Every letter should start out with who it’s to, (Dear John,).
  5. People who use their “texting” language. I hate that crap, even on phone text messages, but I overlook it for the simple fact that it’s somewhat tedious typing on your phone. If you have a keyboard, by all means, make it the full word. How much extra time does it take and does BTW really gain you anything over By The Way?
  6. The constant traffic, like forwarding, responding, etc. I don’t mean just the bad ones you delete, but all of them. It’s so easy to just clickity-click the reply and/or forward button. Before you know it an hour has elapsed and you’re 26 e-mails into a conversation that’s meaningless or that could have taken minutes face to face.
  7. People who forward things that are four miles long with all kinds of forward addresses and the same line over and over again, so you have to scroll down for a long time just to get to whatever it is you were sent.
  8. Old jokes from long ago. I still maintain that there are only twenty three jokes currently circulating the internet.


Please E-Mail me your pet peeves.


Egg On!

Ramblin’ Rooster

Written by Ramblin' Rooster

January 31, 2009 at 6:49 am

More *&#@$^! Racism

with 8 comments

A lot of people will tell you that racism is dead. You can always point them out in a crowd because they are the upper class white male. Everyone else is pretty much on board with the fact that racism will never die.


I like to think that if we were all one race that we’d get along better, but then again some of my friends call me retarded. Truth is I know that people would just move on to something else to dislike and hate about each other. How else could they isolate themselves from being a good person?


I think I’ve stated before that the subject of racism is so ridiculously stupid, that it doesn’t deserve to be discussed. Does anyone really need to hear that it’s logically unsound to judge a person by their skin pigmentation? The whole point is that if you answer yes, “the talk” isn’t going to help.


I don’t know where racism came from or how old it is, but I’m guessing it started about day three after mankind hit the scene. How it’s remained alive and well throughout the centuries is a true mystery, but my theory is that it’s just too easy to be passed up. You know the drill, if you’re fighting with your girlfriend and she’s making you very angry, it’s very easy to call her a bitch. You might even do it by accident. “It just slipped out”, (good luck with that).


Recently I’ve discovered that Traffic Engineering is a major contributor to the pro-racism movement. I was shocked to find out that it’s worked into their standards. As you know, you can’t change standards once they’ve been printed in a book. Anyway, you’re probably as stunned as I am to be hearing this news. You’re probably dying to know what it is that I found out, the evidence, the source of what I’m talking about, no?


When engineers do road and highway plans and they’re putting in new pavement, they have to show the contractor where and what to paint on the street. These are called marking or striping plans. Now here’s where the dirty, no good, ugly racism comes into play. I was told that the yellow edge line on pavement is always on the left hand side of the road, whereas the white edge line is always on the right hand side of the road. I was told that the motto is… white is always right!


Can you believe that shit?


Egg On!

Ramblin’ Rooster

Written by Ramblin' Rooster

January 29, 2009 at 4:24 am

After Losing Your Mind

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I met an alien named Dave. I had my suspicions that it wasn’t his real name, but just a fake name he used because he was tired of people not being able to pronounce his given name. I didn’t push him on the subject.


The circumstances of how we met are nothing more than mundane, but I will tell you anyway so you don’t ask me later.


I went to the DMV to replace my driver’s license, (which I had lost in a snow storm while vacationing in Florida). I was standing in line, waiting for my turn when I noticed out of the corner of my eye, a beautiful woman bending over at the soda machine to retrieve her change. She must have had unusually large fingers because it seemed rather difficult for her to get the money out of the slot. As she struggled, what seemed to be ten minutes, my number had been called.


I went to the next available counter and began what I knew would be a long and tiresome process. The following conversation took place:


“Hullo sir or madam, may I be of help to you how today?”

“Ummm… yea, I lost my driver’s license and I need to replace it.”

“OK, you need want to take test to get license?”

“What? Was there a question in there?”

“You need want to exam for your license.”

“I just need to have another one made. I’m already a licensed driver and I’ve brought in two other forms of identification to verify I am who I say I am.”

“Have you a medical chart from a doctor of optometry?”

“Excuse me?”

“Have you been in an accident in the last six months?”

“What are you talking about? I need to replace my license that I lost. That’s it.”

“Please take a number and await a call for your turn.”

“This is my number right here, [holding up my little slip of paper] I’ve already waited my turn, I’ve already been called up here.”

“May I be of help to you how today?”


It was at this point that I noticed I was not at the DMV, but instead I had somehow wandered into an immigrations office. I knew then that I had lost all connection with reality and the better half of my brain.


What did I do next? I went to get ice cream of course.


Egg On!

Ramblin’ Rooster

Written by Ramblin' Rooster

January 28, 2009 at 4:04 am

Rental Agreement

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As you all don’t know, I’m quite the anally retentive loaner of my personal things. I’ve always been a big protect and baby my things kind of guy. I deny all allegations that this stems from a materialistic or shallow place, but rather I just like to keep my stuff in pristine condition. Quite simply, I take care of my crap.


I’ve always been horrified when I go to someone’s house and see piles of jacket less/case less CDs stacked in the corner. I cringe at greasy finger prints and scratches on DVD rentals. I shiver at people unplugging something from the wall or unit by yanking on the cord and I tense up when I see people swinging or twirling things by the cords.


Recently, my boss wanted to borrow some of my DVDs for the weekend. I felt hesitant to say yes, but after all, he is my boss and all. What better way to look “cool” or “down with it” than doing something I’d rather not that makes me very uncomfortable?


To make things better for me, I decide I’d draw up a rental agreement. A little something to sooth my worried mind. Much to my surprise, my boss actually got a big kick out of my “contract” and even helped me with the drafting of it in some places.


The following is a copy of that agreement. As always, to protect the innocent, the part of my boss will be played by none other than Mr. Smith, (all the way from Washington).




I, Mr. Smith, herein referred to as BORROWER; enter into the binding contract with Ramblin’ Rooster, herein referred to as OWNER, on this day, January 23, 2009.

This agreement is in conjunction with the lending/borrowing of the following items, herein referred to as MATERIAL:

The Office (DVD) Season One

The Office (DVD) Season Two

The Office (DVD) Season Three

The Office (DVD) Season Four


The BORROWER acknowledges and agrees with the following:

1.       All DVDs were taken into possession in Near Mint Condition, including, but not limited to;. DVDs, (discs) are free from scratches, fingerprints and residues, all original packaging is included and all cases are free from tears, scuffs, folds, bends and soiling of any kind

2.       All DVDs, (discs) will be handled by the outer most edges and the storage post receptacle, (inside hole) and never touched on the media storage area or in a manner that violates standard DVD, CD, Compact Disc care as found on any material labeled “Handling Instruction”.

3.       The BORROWER shall not wipe, clean or use solutions on any of the MATERIAL.

4.       The BORROWER shall not extend, loan or give the MATERIAL to any third parties.

5.       Sole responsibility falls upon the BORROWER for the end use of the MATERIAL and holds harmless the OWNER of any wrong doing as a result.

6.       Normal rental fees are waived by the OWNER, due to the BORROWER being the boss.

7.       The BORROWER will keep the MATERAL for no longer than two week, including weekends and holidays.

8.       Should the BORROWER violate any of the above provisions, the BORROWER agrees to replace the MATERIAL.

9.       MATERIAL subject to inspection before agreement is effective by the BORROWER and upon return of MATERIAL by the OWNER.

Perhaps it’s not that amusing. Be that as it may, I think everyone should develop a shrewd, business side for the purposes of lending their personal belongings to people. The world would be so professional.


Egg On!

Ramblin’ Rooster

Written by Ramblin' Rooster

January 27, 2009 at 4:57 am

Diamond Ring Nonsense

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“Two months salary”, “Every kiss begins with Kay”, “He went to Jared’s”. Read these phrases, memorize them and keep them close to your gun. For they are the works of evil doers, of mad men, of heinous geniuses belonging to a secret, underground cult, bent on destroying the world one relationship at a time.


I don’t know if you are aware of this, but unless your spend a large amount of money for a piece of jewelry, better known as a diamond ring, the love in your heart is dead. Two months salary, what? In case you didn’t know I need two months salary just to get by this month.


I’m actually somewhat surprised that people still believe in marriage. It seems like it’s kind of an outdated tradition. I’m not even sure if marriage was meant for common people, (also known as poor people). If I had to guess, and I do, my theory of marriage is that it originated for business purposes. The bringing together of families, merging land, amassing wealth, things like that. So it would make sense that a large and expensive “rock” around a woman’s finger would be just another way for the rich to throw around their money.


I also hypothesis that there was some peasant farmer that wanted to romance some peasant girl and he devised a plan to “woo her” by making her feel like she wasn’t a peasant girl. So he made a ring out of straw and mud and put it on her finger. He probably told her she was his queen or a princess of some garbage like that. She was of course “swept off her feet” and they married. As you know, any good idea someone hatches is immediately stolen, repeated and copied. So all these peasants started making rings to impress women and two thousand years later I’m at the mall with a cooler containing one of my kidneys, bartering for a ring.


To be honest I can’t tell the difference between an $8000 diamond and an $80 cubic zirconium. Maybe if I was close up on them and could give them a good inspection I’d be able to tell, but who knows. When are you ever going to be examining someone’s ring? It’s just an indication of social status on a finger. What’s the big deal? Why do I have to sell everything I own to get a ring to ask some chick, (whom I’ll probably get divorced from) to marry me? A ring doesn’t have anything to do with love? Or does it? Would a ring out of a bubble gum machine not mean as much as Mercedes, er… I mean diamond ring, (got mixed up there since they’re the same price)?


The only other reason for a ring is to claim property. “That’s my wife; see the trip we could have taken to Spain with around her finger?” “She’s married; see the ring on her finger?” “Who’s that lovely woman? Oh dang it, she’s married. Notice how her left arm hangs lower because of the giant diamond ring on her finger.” It’s all of bunch of hooey.


Instead of buying an expensive ring, why not put it towards an awesome honeymoon, or a down payment for a house or a good divorce attorney?


Egg On!


Written by Ramblin' Rooster

January 26, 2009 at 2:33 am

Distorted Music Makes Honorary Oxymoron

with 3 comments

I don’t know how old you are, but I’m like three hundred and twenty seven. One thing I know for sure is that this next statement has nothing to do with age. Distorted music is the opposite of every good thing about music.


(You know I’m going to throw out my disclaimer right?) When I say distorted music, I’m not talking about music that has a guitar riff being played by a guy with a distortion pedal, nor am I referring to some kind of avant-garde, punk, heavy metal, skaw, jazz fusion from Detroit, (which I’m a huge fan of by the way). This also has nothing to with volume level, (directly). I’m talking about music being played in direct violation of the recommended physical limits of the equipment that it’s being played through.


For example, the hippies playing Hacky Sack in the park with their jam box, blaring Grateful Dead through twenty year old, pot smoke covered speakers that sound like wet cardboard is a classic. The redneck party cranking Skynard with one speaker, that’s lost the woofer, lying sideways on the porch of the trailer home is another good one. Then there’s the ’96 Bonneville with duct taped bumper, extensive body damage and three tire “donuts” rollin’ down the street, kickin’ the bass so hard that it’s leaving a trail of nuts and bolts behind it. Recently, there’s the MP3, ear bud people with the music bouncing off their mushy brains and slipping out the side of there ears. All of these are great illustrations of distorted music.


The whole point of listening to music is to enjoy it and when the speakers are cracking, smoking, vibrating and ripping apart you’ve lost the whole reason to listen. Loud music is fun, (occasionally) but you need to have the system to support it. Still, your level of enjoyment increases when the decibel meter is at a pleasurable mark. If you’ve ever listened to a phonograph record on a high fidelity sound system, you know that high quality equipment really makes a difference.


How many John Cusack movies can you find in the above?


Egg On!

Ramblin’ Rooster

Written by Ramblin' Rooster

January 25, 2009 at 5:01 am

Boys Would Make For Nasty Girls

with 2 comments

You wouldn’t believe, or perhaps you would, how many times in my life I’ve had, heard or been a part of a conversation that is about, “What I would do if I was a girl”. Granted, most of the “talks” took place in my early teenage years and it’s been many years gone by since it’s been relevant. Nevertheless, I’m sure the next generation and generations to come will take part in what I now prophesize as a passage to manhood.


It’s apparent that most boys start off by simply standing naked in front of a mirror, to ogle and drool over them selves, a magazine picture come to life if you will. Some boys take it a step further and might mention squeezing and/or rubbing certain parts of their new found body. Others take it many steps further and visualize hour long sessions of masturbation with everything in their house that’s even remotely phallus shaped. Then there are those who take it too far.


For them the subject is more than just a funny or quaint topic budding from sexual curiosity, but rather a deep, secret, fantasy that they have been meticulously toiling over for years. They will speak of their plans in great detail, as if it was a genuine plan for what they hope might be an aspiration they could acquire. It’s more than odd, bordering on creepy. It’s not as if they are a future transvestite case, like they feel trapped inside their body, but rather a dark and mysterious venture of extreme voyeurism.


Some guys I knew even said that they would sleep with all their friends. Is that gay? This is kind of a bizarre line in the sand to think about. If a boy was suddenly given female anatomy for, let’s say a week, there’s no doubt that masturbation would be a very common occurrence. But how long could that hold out? Similar to having “just a few beers” humans have overwhelming tendencies to push the envelope and strike out in exploration. At some point, one would naturally assume the thought or desire to “test it out” for real would surface. Then again, if those urges were acted upon, what would be the result between the two friends after things switched back? Weird huh?


It’s sad that no one I ever talked to about this ever said anything other than something sexual. No one ever said, “I’d probably go shopping for shoes” or “I’d dress up and do all the make-up and jewelry stuff and go out on the town” or “I’d hold a baby and wish for it to call me mom”. You know? Guys just can’t seem to get past anything that’s not sex. Shocking news, right? So basically every boy would become a huge slut if they became women. Does that mean incarnation is real and all the whores use to be men?


And what would a woman do if she was given the male anatomy for a week? My guess is urinating as often and as many places as possible. What could be cooler than peeing standing up?


Egg On!

Ramblin’ Rooster

Written by Ramblin' Rooster

January 24, 2009 at 4:38 am