I got a freaking viral throat infection! How's that for a happy holiday? I was laid up in bed for all of Christmas Eve and Day swallowing razor blades!
I also got a hot sandwich maker -- one of those waffle iron units you put a sandwich in and it not only heats the sandwich up, but divides the sandwich into two sealed triangle-shaped pouches. I don't know how I ever lived life without this thing. It seems like I was happy before getting the sandwich maker, but I must have been living in hell, because I've probably used it forty times in the past three days. I don't see how our forefathers ever survived the winter without one...or even wanted to. I think we owe our forefathers a very grateful salute for enduring all of the tragic hardships which befell them in the making of our country such as smallpox and a complete lack of homemade hot pockets in three minutes or less.
The sandwich maker almost makes up for the sore throat, but not quite. I'm telling you this sore throat was a beast unlike anything I'd ever encountered. THE PAIN! Dear Lord in Heaven, if only there was a magical hot pocket to cure the woeful pain of a virally infected sore throat.
I've experienced a lot of pain in my life...
When I was fifteen I offered to help my dad shuck a wheelbarrow full of corn. I'd hack off the ends of the ears with a MEAT CLEAVER (take note) and then pull off the husks. Well, upon reaching in for yet another ear of corn, a spider the size of a dinner plate leapt onto my arm. My first instinct was to swipe at it with my other hand. Unfortunately, my first instinct should have been to drop the MEAT CLEAVER from my other hand first. The end result is that I plunging the MEAT CLEAVER nearly to the bone in my arm. The spider got a way.
The sore throat was worse than that!
When I was nine I was x-rayed for possibly having scoliosis, that disease which mangles your spine into a sheep shank knot. The x-ray proved negative for that, but did find a benign cyst just inside my rib cage. The next week a couple of surgeons ripped me open, spread my ribs apart with Craftman power tools, yanked out the cyst, and sewed me up (acutally, they used some sort of surgical super glue.) And if that wasn't enough, they left about two feet of an inch wide tube inside me to drain out excess body goo as I healed.
The sore throat was worse than that!
Oh well, at least the Vicodin I was perscribed is making me see things now. Better go!
Tuesday, December 28, 2004
Tuesday, December 07, 2004
Dale Crider, Hawson's Bovinery Hoof Rendering Floor Supervisor
Hi. My name is Dale Crider. I work at the Hawson's Bovinery in Teet, TX. Here at Hawson's Bovinery we do everything that can possibly be done with a cow, and all under one roof. We got a machine that shaves flank steak off the bone right next to a machine that makes genuine leather handbags, and next to that machine is another machine that can fix a set of horns to a Cadillac in five minutes every five minutes. Yep, when it comes to cow based products Hawson's Bovinery has got the competition beat.
I started working here I was ten-years-old in the Potted Meat Wing shoveling snout and sphincter for $4.15 an hour 55 hours a week. No Over Time. No Sick Time. No vacation Time. In fact, back then we worked something called Extra Time which meant you came in to work on your time off for half pay and maybe you got to take a sphincter home for dinner. But times are different now thanks to them bastards in the ACLU. Shit, my boy Ricky T. Crider had to wait till he was six-goddamn-teen before they let him start work in the Potted Meat Wing and on top of that they make him wear gloves, and a ventilated mask, and rubber boots and a whole bunch of other crap just so "the product is clean" and he ain't "getting sick or maimed!" Boy's gonna grow up soft, I tell ya.
But any ol' way... Since them glory days of my ten-year-old self I've progressed my way up to Hoof Rendering Floor Supervisor. That's where we take the cow hooves and grind up to make all sorts of stuff like Jell-O, false teeth, skull shaped gear shift knobs, fake fingernails for burn victims, and fake hooves for cow burn victims who can't walk their way to the killing bolt gun.
Speaking of the killing bolt gun... My Daddy started working here back when he was two-years-old de-boning ribs for McDonald's McRib Sandwiches back in 1923. Anyhow, he eventually worked his way up to Killing Bolt Gun Assistant by the age of 14, six years after I was born. He'd lead in the cow to the killing bolt gun chamber, prep it up by painting a little target on its temple, say a little a sweet something to it like "This'll only sting a bit" or "You ever been kissed by a butterfly, Bessie?" at which point he'd give the signal and the Killing Bolt Gun Operator would press a button and a .50 caliber military grade rifle would discharge a blunt lump of steel directly into the cow's brain pan. Pure, scientific precision that operation was. And still is.
But anyway... On one particular occasion, just after Daddy had given the signal, his Stetson fell off of his head and bent down to pick it up. Well, they say timing is everything and they're right. Just went he bent down to pick up his hat, that Killing Bolt Gun Operator pressed his button and Daddy caught a steel slug right in the head. That slug went all the way through and still killed that cow!
Six weeks later Hawson's got a complaint letter in the mail from someone in Scrampy, TN claiming they'd found a chunk of human ear in their can of coctail weiners, so the company...
Aw, shit. I just heard my assistant's having some problem with the hoof-based glass eye machine. Well, I'll finish this up later. You take care, now!
I started working here I was ten-years-old in the Potted Meat Wing shoveling snout and sphincter for $4.15 an hour 55 hours a week. No Over Time. No Sick Time. No vacation Time. In fact, back then we worked something called Extra Time which meant you came in to work on your time off for half pay and maybe you got to take a sphincter home for dinner. But times are different now thanks to them bastards in the ACLU. Shit, my boy Ricky T. Crider had to wait till he was six-goddamn-teen before they let him start work in the Potted Meat Wing and on top of that they make him wear gloves, and a ventilated mask, and rubber boots and a whole bunch of other crap just so "the product is clean" and he ain't "getting sick or maimed!" Boy's gonna grow up soft, I tell ya.
But any ol' way... Since them glory days of my ten-year-old self I've progressed my way up to Hoof Rendering Floor Supervisor. That's where we take the cow hooves and grind up to make all sorts of stuff like Jell-O, false teeth, skull shaped gear shift knobs, fake fingernails for burn victims, and fake hooves for cow burn victims who can't walk their way to the killing bolt gun.
Speaking of the killing bolt gun... My Daddy started working here back when he was two-years-old de-boning ribs for McDonald's McRib Sandwiches back in 1923. Anyhow, he eventually worked his way up to Killing Bolt Gun Assistant by the age of 14, six years after I was born. He'd lead in the cow to the killing bolt gun chamber, prep it up by painting a little target on its temple, say a little a sweet something to it like "This'll only sting a bit" or "You ever been kissed by a butterfly, Bessie?" at which point he'd give the signal and the Killing Bolt Gun Operator would press a button and a .50 caliber military grade rifle would discharge a blunt lump of steel directly into the cow's brain pan. Pure, scientific precision that operation was. And still is.
But anyway... On one particular occasion, just after Daddy had given the signal, his Stetson fell off of his head and bent down to pick it up. Well, they say timing is everything and they're right. Just went he bent down to pick up his hat, that Killing Bolt Gun Operator pressed his button and Daddy caught a steel slug right in the head. That slug went all the way through and still killed that cow!
Six weeks later Hawson's got a complaint letter in the mail from someone in Scrampy, TN claiming they'd found a chunk of human ear in their can of coctail weiners, so the company...
Aw, shit. I just heard my assistant's having some problem with the hoof-based glass eye machine. Well, I'll finish this up later. You take care, now!
Monday, November 29, 2004
Computer in a state of &$#@!
My home computer has recently decided to rebel against its Human Overloard and discontinue its services. I think it may be a Windows XP problem, but then again it could simply be possessed by demons, at which point I could upload ExerAssist ver 6.6.6 and have the unholy critters expunged in the name our Lord and Saviour Jesus H. McAfee.
However, odds are that my computer will remain an unstable and ill suited platform from which to unleash my massively intelligent blog entries for quite some time, so I am stuck doing it sneakily from my work computer. Shhhhh....
However, odds are that my computer will remain an unstable and ill suited platform from which to unleash my massively intelligent blog entries for quite some time, so I am stuck doing it sneakily from my work computer. Shhhhh....
Tuesday, November 23, 2004
A Few Words on THE ECONOMY
I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about the American economy lately. Specifically about that part of the American economy that involves my wallet, because that specific part has recently become what we in economic circles refer to as “empty.” There are a lot of economic factors that I could blame this on. Take Recession, for instance. I could easily blame my lack of money on Recession. “Recession,” I could easily say, “is causing me so much stress that I have to buy twice the amount of beer for relaxation purposes, and as a result, have far less money to spend on more important things like rent or liver transplants.” So I sat down the other day and came up with a few ideas on how we can “stimulate the economy” by increasing consumer activity across a broad spectrum of the economic landscape and possibly robbing people at gunpoint.
My first idea is that everyone should invest in the stock market. Granted, the stock market has recently been closing at numbers well below the temperature levels of planets in the outer reaches of the solar system, but this is mainly because of what economists refer to as “@&$%# Enron!” You should take a large chunk of your annual income and invest it in a bunch of stock. You should do this because you make more money than me. My annual income couldn’t support an investment into a box of saltine crackers.
Investing in the stock market in these modern computer driven days is so easy that even the average Joe can do it, which is probably why the economy is in such poor shape to begin with. People named Joe shouldn’t be allowed to invest in the stock market. People named Joe should be required to consult Financial Advisors, because Financial Advisors usually have very business-like names such as Richard or Edward and are very good at manipulating money whereas most people named Joe are usually only fairly adequate at manipulating the controls on the Tilt-O-Whirl where they work.
Another way to bring the economy up to speed is to buy everything you see advertised on television. There are many fine products available to the consumer on television these days ranging from devices that, by sending jolts of electricity directly into your abdominal muscles, can turn them into firm, healthy, spastic knots the size of pellet gun ammunition to devices that can cook a fully grown manatee in under five minutes. These are actually the same device.
One particular product I find to be highly enticing is the Flat Hose, which is a water hose that when not in use becomes flat so that it is easy to roll up. I think buying a couple of these would do wonders to stimulate the economy especially if we used them to tie up Allan Greenspan and said to him in a very calm but serious manner, “Now stimulate the economy dammit or we’re going to inject you full of Epil Stop Hair Remover!”
And this brings me, via no legitimate segue what-so-ever, to my next idea which is getting involved in internet porn. I don’t know about you, but lately I’ve been receiving a lot of unsolicited advertisements for pornographic websites in my email account, specifically my MSN Hotmail account. Sometimes I’ll receive upwards of twenty-five emails a day from guys like HumpyMcGroin@forwardthrust.com or gals like MissMassiveBigOnes@brothelworld.net with subject headings similar to “!!!CONSOLIDATE YOUR DEBTS NOW AND WHILE YOU’RE AT IT CHECK OUT SOME FREE PORN FOR ONLY $34.95 A MONTH AT WWW.UNSANITARY-UNDRESSED-NAKED-PEOPLE-DOING-NEARLY-CRIMINAL-ACTS.COM!!!” Apparently, the economy is being very nice to the internet porn industry. Maybe the government should sponsor its own internet porn site featuring sultry, seductive, lurid, glamorous nude photos of, let’s say, Supreme Court Justice Sandra Day O’Connor.
In conclusion, I would like to say that surely you can see here that I have put forth quite a number of feasible actions we might take in order to revive our stagnant economy and that, in addition, I obviously have absolutely no idea of how the economy actually works. I blame this on Recession.
My first idea is that everyone should invest in the stock market. Granted, the stock market has recently been closing at numbers well below the temperature levels of planets in the outer reaches of the solar system, but this is mainly because of what economists refer to as “@&$%# Enron!” You should take a large chunk of your annual income and invest it in a bunch of stock. You should do this because you make more money than me. My annual income couldn’t support an investment into a box of saltine crackers.
Investing in the stock market in these modern computer driven days is so easy that even the average Joe can do it, which is probably why the economy is in such poor shape to begin with. People named Joe shouldn’t be allowed to invest in the stock market. People named Joe should be required to consult Financial Advisors, because Financial Advisors usually have very business-like names such as Richard or Edward and are very good at manipulating money whereas most people named Joe are usually only fairly adequate at manipulating the controls on the Tilt-O-Whirl where they work.
Another way to bring the economy up to speed is to buy everything you see advertised on television. There are many fine products available to the consumer on television these days ranging from devices that, by sending jolts of electricity directly into your abdominal muscles, can turn them into firm, healthy, spastic knots the size of pellet gun ammunition to devices that can cook a fully grown manatee in under five minutes. These are actually the same device.
One particular product I find to be highly enticing is the Flat Hose, which is a water hose that when not in use becomes flat so that it is easy to roll up. I think buying a couple of these would do wonders to stimulate the economy especially if we used them to tie up Allan Greenspan and said to him in a very calm but serious manner, “Now stimulate the economy dammit or we’re going to inject you full of Epil Stop Hair Remover!”
And this brings me, via no legitimate segue what-so-ever, to my next idea which is getting involved in internet porn. I don’t know about you, but lately I’ve been receiving a lot of unsolicited advertisements for pornographic websites in my email account, specifically my MSN Hotmail account. Sometimes I’ll receive upwards of twenty-five emails a day from guys like HumpyMcGroin@forwardthrust.com or gals like MissMassiveBigOnes@brothelworld.net with subject headings similar to “!!!CONSOLIDATE YOUR DEBTS NOW AND WHILE YOU’RE AT IT CHECK OUT SOME FREE PORN FOR ONLY $34.95 A MONTH AT WWW.UNSANITARY-UNDRESSED-NAKED-PEOPLE-DOING-NEARLY-CRIMINAL-ACTS.COM!!!” Apparently, the economy is being very nice to the internet porn industry. Maybe the government should sponsor its own internet porn site featuring sultry, seductive, lurid, glamorous nude photos of, let’s say, Supreme Court Justice Sandra Day O’Connor.
In conclusion, I would like to say that surely you can see here that I have put forth quite a number of feasible actions we might take in order to revive our stagnant economy and that, in addition, I obviously have absolutely no idea of how the economy actually works. I blame this on Recession.
Monday, November 22, 2004
Youth of America full of Unqualified Pedestrians
On my way to the wonderful Subway for lunch today, where they have the greatest ergonomically engineered booths within which to supplant one's self, I found myself passing Westlake High School amid the churning of students walking to and/or from their various lunch break endeavors, and all I have to say is WHAT THE HELL ARE THEY TEACHING THESE KIDS WITH MY GODDAMN TAX DOLLARS NOW DAYS?! HUH?!
These kids, complete with their authentic retro 70's era garb purchased on their mom's GAP card, were just wandering into the street as if there weren't any cars barreling down the road at 20 m.p.h. which is the enforced School Zone speed limit around lunch time. I guess they were returning from where ever they'd had their "off campus" lunch: Pizza with a side of zits. But they weren't crossing the street at traffic lights or designated "cross here and not get maimed by two tons of Detroit steel" areas. Oh no, they simply stepped off the curb and right into traffic. When did they stop teaching kids to LOOK BOTH WAYS before crossing the street?!
Anyhow, I really like Subway's booths. They're composed entirely of plywood and some sort of plastic covering which looks hard enough to shatter diamonds on, yet they are extremely comfortable. Truly a feat of ergonomics genius!
Quizno's, on the other hand, employs the use of tall stools. This is no good. I think a man should have his feet on the ground when he dines. You never know when you may have to spring into action, and becoming tangled up in the knot work of legs and foot rails of a stool can hamper any post sub sandwich adventure.
These kids, complete with their authentic retro 70's era garb purchased on their mom's GAP card, were just wandering into the street as if there weren't any cars barreling down the road at 20 m.p.h. which is the enforced School Zone speed limit around lunch time. I guess they were returning from where ever they'd had their "off campus" lunch: Pizza with a side of zits. But they weren't crossing the street at traffic lights or designated "cross here and not get maimed by two tons of Detroit steel" areas. Oh no, they simply stepped off the curb and right into traffic. When did they stop teaching kids to LOOK BOTH WAYS before crossing the street?!
Anyhow, I really like Subway's booths. They're composed entirely of plywood and some sort of plastic covering which looks hard enough to shatter diamonds on, yet they are extremely comfortable. Truly a feat of ergonomics genius!
Quizno's, on the other hand, employs the use of tall stools. This is no good. I think a man should have his feet on the ground when he dines. You never know when you may have to spring into action, and becoming tangled up in the knot work of legs and foot rails of a stool can hamper any post sub sandwich adventure.
Sunday, November 21, 2004
Drunk at Dave and Amy's
yep...i'm drunk at dave and amy's...let me give my cohorts a chance to say something..... here's mike cotton...
Damn, a chance to the greater Clif community, what to say? Well, two pieces of advice -- 1) hangoversgiving is the saturday before Thanksgiving every year, celebrate it with you loved ones next year, but make sure to cover your furniture. 2) Wisdom comes at the expense of world and time. It's what you manufacture with the raw materials of life, and in your last moments is all you have left. Pass it to someone, but don't let slip away.
Well shit, that was heavy, and now for another golden-oldie twin-spin sound set from KLAM in Portland, it's... John Tucker.
Christ, I love teabagging men.
Well, that's all the time we have for Tuck tonight, maybe he'll have more words for us next week. Until then, it's the weather with Jimmy Lavine.
I need new friends.....
Damn, a chance to the greater Clif community, what to say? Well, two pieces of advice -- 1) hangoversgiving is the saturday before Thanksgiving every year, celebrate it with you loved ones next year, but make sure to cover your furniture. 2) Wisdom comes at the expense of world and time. It's what you manufacture with the raw materials of life, and in your last moments is all you have left. Pass it to someone, but don't let slip away.
Well shit, that was heavy, and now for another golden-oldie twin-spin sound set from KLAM in Portland, it's... John Tucker.
Christ, I love teabagging men.
Well, that's all the time we have for Tuck tonight, maybe he'll have more words for us next week. Until then, it's the weather with Jimmy Lavine.
I need new friends.....
Thursday, November 18, 2004
"Gourmet" Sandwiches
I just had Subway for lunch and I was once again surprised at how much it didn't suck.
I was never really a big fan of Subway sandwiches back before their big make over; before they decided to sell meats made from animals that actually exist in nature and offer more than one flavor of bread. Remember the OLD Subway with that one limp roll of bread and the cold cuts of meat-ish product that you could ball up and bounce off walls? Well, take it from me, the NEW AND IMPROVED Subway is MUCH better. So I've been eating of this new Subway for a couple of weeks now and have been quite pleased.
My favorite sub shop here in town (being Austin, Texas) is Delaware Subs. Delaware Subs offers gigantic sandwiches crafted from AUTHENTIC east coast recipes. They even offer these tiny little over-priced sugar infused cupcakes called Tasty Cakes that, apparently, only grow naturally "up North." These little cupcakes are so rich in sugar they can rot an elephant tusk from twenty-five feet away.
I do like sub sandwiches. If I had to rank the sub shops here in Austin from what I would eat first to what I would eat last, I would have to say. . .
1) Delaware Subs.
2) Quizno's.
3) Subway.
4) A heaping wheelbarrow full of mammal feces.
5) Thundercloud Subs.
As you have probably gathered from the above ranking, I am not a huge fan of Thundercloud Subs. Nope. They are absolutely the worst. The strange thing, though, is that they are incredibly popular here. I don't understand why. . .
Thundercloud Subs are small, over-priced, made from substances that barely pass as meat and more often probably pass as stones or polyps, and their shops are staffed by hippies. And by hippies I mean hirsute men and women who travel in visible hazes of body odor and patchulli and very rarely take the time to pluck various insects and wildlife from their dreadlocks, not your typical modern day hippie who doesn't even have a job.
And now even 7-11 has gotten into the sub sandwich business offering sandwiches made from, and they really say this, "gourmet" meats and breads, which makes me wonder: Who stood by and let 7-11 bend "gourmet" over a barrell and rape the meaning out of it? Why, back in my day, you couldn't even use the word "gourmet" in a sentence unless you had an off shore bank account and at least ten servants just to pick your nose for you. Boy, those were the days!
I was never really a big fan of Subway sandwiches back before their big make over; before they decided to sell meats made from animals that actually exist in nature and offer more than one flavor of bread. Remember the OLD Subway with that one limp roll of bread and the cold cuts of meat-ish product that you could ball up and bounce off walls? Well, take it from me, the NEW AND IMPROVED Subway is MUCH better. So I've been eating of this new Subway for a couple of weeks now and have been quite pleased.
My favorite sub shop here in town (being Austin, Texas) is Delaware Subs. Delaware Subs offers gigantic sandwiches crafted from AUTHENTIC east coast recipes. They even offer these tiny little over-priced sugar infused cupcakes called Tasty Cakes that, apparently, only grow naturally "up North." These little cupcakes are so rich in sugar they can rot an elephant tusk from twenty-five feet away.
I do like sub sandwiches. If I had to rank the sub shops here in Austin from what I would eat first to what I would eat last, I would have to say. . .
1) Delaware Subs.
2) Quizno's.
3) Subway.
4) A heaping wheelbarrow full of mammal feces.
5) Thundercloud Subs.
As you have probably gathered from the above ranking, I am not a huge fan of Thundercloud Subs. Nope. They are absolutely the worst. The strange thing, though, is that they are incredibly popular here. I don't understand why. . .
Thundercloud Subs are small, over-priced, made from substances that barely pass as meat and more often probably pass as stones or polyps, and their shops are staffed by hippies. And by hippies I mean hirsute men and women who travel in visible hazes of body odor and patchulli and very rarely take the time to pluck various insects and wildlife from their dreadlocks, not your typical modern day hippie who doesn't even have a job.
And now even 7-11 has gotten into the sub sandwich business offering sandwiches made from, and they really say this, "gourmet" meats and breads, which makes me wonder: Who stood by and let 7-11 bend "gourmet" over a barrell and rape the meaning out of it? Why, back in my day, you couldn't even use the word "gourmet" in a sentence unless you had an off shore bank account and at least ten servants just to pick your nose for you. Boy, those were the days!
Welcome!
Hello, and welcome to my blog, WarehouseLarry, just another insignificant drop in the digital sea for your amusement.
When I decided to do a blog, roughly ten minutes ago, I quickly came to the conclusion that if I want my blog to stand out, to "pop" as the kids say, then I'm going to have to implement some pretty clever thinking. There are so many blogs out there now days that in order to get noticed, if that is your goal, then you really need to "think outside the box" and push the envelope of what has here-to-for been acceptable blog content and presentation. In order to nudge my blog out of the mainstream of blogness and attract a new audience I have opted to incorporate a few above par elements not found in most blogs:
1) Correct spelling.
2) An, at least, 8th grade grasp of English grammar.
3) No grab bag cliches such as "think outside the box" or "push the envelope" or "above par".
4) No bad poetry.
5) No good poetry.
6) No poetry of any kind.
7) No condescending political diatribes on how I think my way of running the world makes more sense than yours, because unlike you, I'm not an idiot.
8) Absolutely no "leet speek". People I cannot stress this enough. If you ever come across anything of a "leet" nature on this site, unless it is being used to utterly deride cretins who actually use leet speek because they think it's coo1, or kyul, or c00l, or 73r~&, or however the fuck they would say "cool" please inject my blog with a virus for the benefit of mankind.
That's pretty much it for now. I'm sure I'll come up with other exciting ways to impress you in the future. But until then, here's a celebratory poem:
WarehouseLarry
May I carry
Your URL to my links page?
Your blog's SO koo1
I don't know what to do
Other than send you lots of
Unsolicited money!
Thanks and check back soon! (but not before next week, because I'm out of ideas.)
When I decided to do a blog, roughly ten minutes ago, I quickly came to the conclusion that if I want my blog to stand out, to "pop" as the kids say, then I'm going to have to implement some pretty clever thinking. There are so many blogs out there now days that in order to get noticed, if that is your goal, then you really need to "think outside the box" and push the envelope of what has here-to-for been acceptable blog content and presentation. In order to nudge my blog out of the mainstream of blogness and attract a new audience I have opted to incorporate a few above par elements not found in most blogs:
1) Correct spelling.
2) An, at least, 8th grade grasp of English grammar.
3) No grab bag cliches such as "think outside the box" or "push the envelope" or "above par".
4) No bad poetry.
5) No good poetry.
6) No poetry of any kind.
7) No condescending political diatribes on how I think my way of running the world makes more sense than yours, because unlike you, I'm not an idiot.
8) Absolutely no "leet speek". People I cannot stress this enough. If you ever come across anything of a "leet" nature on this site, unless it is being used to utterly deride cretins who actually use leet speek because they think it's coo1, or kyul, or c00l, or 73r~&, or however the fuck they would say "cool" please inject my blog with a virus for the benefit of mankind.
That's pretty much it for now. I'm sure I'll come up with other exciting ways to impress you in the future. But until then, here's a celebratory poem:
WarehouseLarry
May I carry
Your URL to my links page?
Your blog's SO koo1
I don't know what to do
Other than send you lots of
Unsolicited money!
Thanks and check back soon! (but not before next week, because I'm out of ideas.)
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