Get thee behind me Satan...or at least out of ear's reach

Alright I'm back 'atcha with another telling tale about the awful lunch from lucifer himself.

Before that though, I must tell you all that I'm sitting in my poshy McPosherton hotel in downtown Phila working on the lobby computer. I went upstairs to the privacy of my very modern hotel room to publish this article, and I got slapped with the blue screen of ALL bluescreens. This one covered the whole screen, had a ton of binary code on it, and at the very bottom read something like this

"Commence memory dump..........
.....physical memory dump completed
Consult your technical advisor or re-install Windows XP"

Sounds really bad, so in lieu of privacy I'm going to klak klak klak away here on the computer of the Club Quarters.

OK GO! As I mentioned last time, I was sitting in the olive garden trying to enjoy a good meal, all the while feeling the sweet sting of shrieking in my ear because some kid was making a ruckus (and a mother was doing NOTHING to stop it). That was nothing, though, compared to "Siam" the two year old version of Rosemary's Baby. Stap yourselves in for this one and get ready to git-git-git-git fired up!

I know that this young lady's name was Sian (Or Cyan, or Syan, or SAI-ANN!!) because her lame duck parents kept on repeating "Sian! What are you doing? Sian! No! Sian, plllleeaaaasseeeee be quiet pleeeaasseeee Sian we are at your mercy oh boo hoo hooo hooooo" or something like that. This creature kept running around the restaurant because, in her words (which were very much audible all over the restaurant) "I want sit myself, not with you!!" So you know what Sian wanted...you know what mom and dad wanted, and now without further ado I give you...

A Conversation with Sian and her Idiot Parents:

Sian: I want sit myself...not with you!"

Dad: "mMmpphh"

Sian "I sit here" (points to another separate table)

Mom: "Sian...no"

Sian: "YES!!!"

Mom: (walking over to pick up demon child) "Sian you need to sit here" (picks up child)

Sian: "NNNNNNNNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!! NO NO NOOOOOOOOOOOO NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!"

Dad: (sigh) "mmphh hmmm uhhhh"


Now take that conversation, multiply it by three, include two bathroom "talking-to" intermissions, and you have the drama that was created by this horrible, horrible young girl. I kid you not, when the mom picked her up (hey dad, way to be a role model...douche!!) that girl screamed like you were trying to saw her legs off. And as the mom carried this writing, wailing little creature to the bathroom, she continued to scream and howl and cry and make a huge fuss. And when she got to the bathroom, yeah, I could hear her sreaming still. What a horrible kid. She completely terrorized the parents, the patrons of the restaurant, and any unfortunate woman who was having a delicate moment in the ladies room.

2 things came to my mind as I tried to wolf down my pasta as fast as I could: 1) I should have heard a lot more slapping and spanking coming from the restroom, and 2) How on earth do you fail so badly at parenthood that you cannot even tell a 2 year old what to do? Granted I have never had (legitimate) kids before, but you can be dang sure that unless my kid is a cherub, I'm not going to take him/her out in a public restaurant. You can also bet I will not have any qualms about walking to the car, and paddling the crap out of my own flesh and blood. I mean honestly, how do you let a 2 year old rule your life? If you can't even go out in public without your kid prompting the staff at Olive Garden to declar martial law in the restaurant, then you in my mind are not fit to bear offspring. I'll take your kids dang it! And I've also got a sure fire way to help hellion-spawning parents to un-Huff themselves. It involves 3 steps:

1) Go to the corner
2) Think about what you've done
3) You've in time-out until I get ready to paddle you.

Geez people, it's not rocket science here. Are you all feeling me on this one? Rant over!!

For once I wished I was sterile...

Yeah you heard me right...I said sterile, as in cannot procreate and make little Andrews. "Andrew! Good Lord I always took you for such a verile, rambunxious young man!!" you might be saying to yourself, and rest assured I still am...some of you know more than others. But innuendo aside, I was out to lunch today and had not one, but TWO encounters with what I would call hellions...but you might also call them toddlers. Sit back and start gritting your teeth, because listening to this story is akin to listening to Flo Jo scratch her nails across a chalkboard.

This morning, I was hungry. So instead of going out for the breakfast that I missed, I decided that hearty Italian cuisine would have to fill the void in my stomach. So when I rolled up to Olive Garden at 10:59, I was the only one in the parking lot, and subsequently the only patron in the restaurant. I state that I was there before opening hours for one reason alone. I went in expressly to have a 1) fast meal and have a 2) quiet meal. I had just picked up the new Thrice album Vheissu, and was geeked to start reading the liner notes (I know...I'm a tool). Not more than 2 and a half minutes after I had sought refuge from the day in the Italian haven, the gates of Hell opened up right in front of me and out spewed the most ghastly little imp I've ever seen. The imp was about 24" tall, had blonde hair, and had a voicebox that would put Mariah Carey to shame, so loud was his Banshee canticle! I whipped around in my seat hoping to avoid a meeting with the imp (ok it was a toddler) only to see him writhing and flailing about in his helpless mother's arms. Loud piercing screams that would curdle your blood came out of his cerubic mouth, and the face of an angel that beset his countenance was only a facade to hide the demon that lay beneath his exterior. This kid was awful. All 3 other parties in the restaurant at this point just kind of stared at this grown woman who had no control over her own flesh and blood; we all shook our heads in a collective gesture of disdain, and we tried to keep eating amidst the torrent of yelps.

I found myself literally saying, "Man I hate kids"!! In all reality my fury was directed at this deadbeat mom who just sat there and didn't say a thing to her kid! What's he going to do, talk back? Slap him in his face! You're the mom!! I swear the Age of Niceness that we live in has realyl cramped my ability to enjoy a fine meal. Eventually the kid stopped screaming and started eating his kiddie size spaghetti, but the damage had been done. Everyone was pissed, I hated kids (normally I love children more than dogs), and what's worse...my reading was severely disrupted.

That was hellion number one, but hellion number two put him to shame. This hellion came straight from the belly of Old Scratch himself, and to retell the chronicle of my frustration with this hellspawn will have to wait for another blog...I'm off to have a (hopefully) hellion free dinner with my old Roomate!! WOOOO!!!

I might have to revisit this

For a number of reasons
1) We see here a principal with a shred of moral conscience
2)...and in a Blue state nonetheless
3) We see a man standing up to spit in the face of a sensationalized youth culture which prides itself on baseless bravado and debaucherous excess
4) And MOST OF ALL...because I visited this high school last spring! I should have picked up a tshirt from there

My hat is off to this Principal, seriously.

Priorities, people

I was browing on the internet today and I found an article that was very interesting. In these days where gas price gouging is fashionable, and you can't fill up your car with gas for less than the price of your own soul, it's nice to see that other crucial markets are suffering an economic blow as well.

UNICEF is Horrible

I officially hate huge government run organizations. As a republican, and a capitalist, I tend to believe the more power you can give to people or small businesses the better. Local authorities, people, or businesses know how to run things better than large committees who take numerous unnecessary steps and are run unefficiently.

So UNICEF, United Nations International Children's Emergency Fund (from here on known as horrible) runs a commercial ad / PSA utilizing the Smurfs. This commercial has war planes flying overhead, bombing the Smurfs, killing Smurfette, and leaving the rest of the smurfs crying in their "war torn" village. Of course it's first run was in Belgium, a country located right next to France. It's supposed to tell children to, "not let war destroy their world."

Thanks for the slap to the face horrible. Thanks for giving America a big middle finger. Just know that this American is giving one right back. I can't wait till the UN is somehow dismantled and shown to be the horrible beuracratic cesspool that it is. A wasteland of corruption, inefficiency, inaction, greed, selfishness, weakness, and horribly appointed world power. The UN is a picture of all that is wrong with the world and the mere mention of it makes me want to vomit. The next time the UN needs our help, or Belgium and France in particular, I will call on all of my senators, representatives, and the president to not give it. It's time we got our own house into order instead of helping only to be ridiculed and spit on continuosly.

Here are some links:

1. A CBS article about the UNICEF (horrible) advertisement

2.) Some crazy wacked out site I found that has the commercial ... in Belgian

I hate the UN and now you can join me too guys.

Political Time

So I'm in DC and it's inspired me to write about politics again. Not really just some quick links. I will write about my awesome trip down here soon enough but for now a couple of things that are hacking me off.

1.) This horrible ad campaign I can't stand this. If you've been following my blog you know how I feel about WMD. Everyone thought Iraq had them ... Everyone! You can see for yourself here again. Read just a few of these One more link You can blast these homos here for there horrible advertisements and hiding of the facts.

2.) I'm so mad at Gwyneth Paltrow. She came out and said America is horrible and she's glad she lives in Europe. Fine go ahead and say that it's your opinion. BUT DON'T EXPECT MY AMERICAN DOLLAR FOR YOUR NEW MOVIE PROOF! I'm so mad at people for bashing us. I refuse to see it and would have otherwise. If you're extra angry you can mail Disney to complain at The Walt Disney Company 500 S. Buena Vista Street Burbank, CA 91521. Miramax is a subsidary of Disney. I hate Gwyneth.

3.) Last one for now I promise. I'm really mad at Green Day. If you haven't seen the video for "Wake Me Up When September Ends" it's of course awful. It basically portrays the military as a heartless killing machine that breaks up relationships and has no good purpose at all. The guy is blasted in everyway possible for wanting to join, they make it look selfish, and there is not one redeeming value such as SERVING OUR GREAT NATION AND FREEDOM portrayed at all. For one you can contact Green Day at Idiotclub@aol.com or you can contact Reprise Records at Reprise@RepriseRec.com It's one of their e-mail addresses. Write them like I'm going to and tell them you won't buy Green Days next CD if they continue to offend you. It takes a second and might make a difference. Just a thought guys.

I'm off to go relax a bit and thank the Good Lord that I live in a nation that's free and allows me to express my opinion.

Joe Klapheke and WMD

The life of Joe is one part truth, on part falsehood, and three parts snowball. My friend Joe Klapheke is a weapon of mass destruction. This guy is a good friend of mine and has asked me, nay, lived such a fabulous and unselfish life that I have to blog about him. Friends since 6th grade I was initially drawn to Joe due to the fact that he has a large head ... filled with tons of knowledge of course. His soccer skills were not to be believed and his Mom gave away money to all who came to visit her (possibly since she worked at a bank). His Dad built our middle school science project and the knife at the end cut the piece of tissue paper well enough to give us an A. Throughout high school Joe was no less impressive. His locker was the total hang out spot at the high school and all the cool kids hung out there including myself and my posse of women. I often had to tell my ladies to come back later as Joe was swamped with them. Joe has siblings but who cares really because he's the only one that matters. He multiplies food, rules all that he does, and has a job. One time Joe even put out a fire that was engulfing an entire city block. How is this you ask? He dumped Mountain Dew on the entire fire ... granted it was passed through his kidneys first. I don't even know what else to say other than if Joe Klapheke was not my friend I'd either be in juvi or in the woods being raised by wolves. I'd also be a heck of a lot less cool. So Joe this Bud's for you and all you've done. Now will you quit e-mailing me and telling me to blog about you. Just kidding ... not really ... Joe also had some otherwordly batting average in the work softball league this summer like he went 85 - 87 ... although those two were strikeouts I believe.

Joe rules!