Dude, Don't Be That Dude.

Just a random observation I'm making about the workplace. And by workplace, I am of course referring to my own. I've worked in other offices, though, and have witnessed the same behavior. So I'm sure there's some measure of truth to this beyond the personal.

Anywho . . .

How many opportunities are there for men to make fools of themselves at the office? PLENTY, it seems! I don't know why this is the case, but I notice that anytime you have a reasonably attractive and/or fit female co-worker at the workplace, she becomes an instant target of some of the most dorkable kiss-assers we have employed. And the woman doesn't even have to be a knockout by any stretch of the imagination. Seriously, there's no more criteria beyond the fact that she simply needs to not be, well, gross . . . and all the pathetic Y-chromosome losers come out of the woodwork! It's become a joke, I tell ya.

Random Thought Of . . . August

Yup, I said AUGUST. Because that's probably how long it will take before you hear from me again, judging by the absence of anything Batista on this blog lately.

Yes, yes, I know I've been a bad blogger. But while I'm not ready to come back to full-steam posting mode yet, I figured I'd let you in on the most recent question to pop into my mind a few minutes ago while I was working out:

Why don't all the major booksellers figure out a way to allow people who have purchased the print version of their products to scan the barcode on their receipt with their smart phones or tablet PCs and download the electronic copy for free?

Really, is that so hard to do for us loyal customers?

I only ask because I have a ton of hardcopy books sitting on my shelves in need of reading, but I no longer carry physical books with me when I leave the house. These days, all my on-the-run reading is done on either my iPhone or iPad. It's terribly useful, especially on my mobile since that's always with me when I leave the house. I only read physical books when I'm curled up in bed at night and have 30 - 45 minutes to spare before Mr. Sandman knocks me over the head and it's lights out.

So, being that I'm a loyal book purchaser from such places like Amazon and Barnes & Noble, why can't I just download copies of those self same books on the Kindle and Nook apps, respectively, that are on my portable devices?

I mean, talk about being GREEDY! No wonder the industry's in the crapper.

Thoughts?

Odd Misconfusions

The new season of 24 kicked off over the weekend, with the first 4 episodes airing over the span of Sunday and Monday nights. Lisa and I were discussing how similar Janeane Garofalo's character is to a cherished regular from the previous seasons. And it came to my attention that I confuse two popular female names all the time. I mean like, constantly!

That got me to thinking about all the things that I get twisted in this mad, confusing world.

Here's a short list:

1) Zoe and Chloe. I don't know why, but I ALWAYS get this wrong. If someone is named Chloe, I call them Zoe. And vice-versa. It's very aggravating that no matter how hard I try I can't seem to get this straight.

2) January and July. It's not the name of the months I get turned around, but rather when they are in date form. So for instance, I can see: 7/1/09, and in my head it will translate as January 1, 2009. And the same is true of the reverse. Weird!

3) I mistake blue for purple ALL the time. This probably has more to do with some sort of mild color-blindness for deep blue, I suspect. I wear a watch with a deep, royal blue face that at certain times looks purple to me, but at other times clearly blue. It drives me nuts, especially since EVERYONE else sees it as blue only.

4) Cannot for the life of me tell the difference between a sweet potato or a yam. This might have to do with the fact that, in the U.S., what we call "yams" are in fact just the "soft" variety of a sweet potato. And what we commonly label as sweet potato here is the firmer version. Meanwhile real yams are often found in markets catering to international foods, particularly Afro-Caribbean and Asian markets. So maybe it's not me, but the U.S.D.A.'s fault for confusing us all! :)

5) Some actresses are too disturbingly similar for me to tell apart. And the bad thing is, I seem to be the only one. Ashley Judd and Charlize Theron used to be the worst for me, and it's only in recent years that I can finally tell the two apart. But before them was Angela Bassett and Lynn Whitfield. I'm constantly embarrassing myself bringing up the one actress when in fact I mean the other. Argh!!!

There's a few more oddities about me that fit here on this list, but I can't seem to remember them at the moment. Still, I know that while some of these may be unique to just me, I'm sure everyone has a list just like this somewhere.

So what confuses you?

I Dream Of A Zombie Apocalypse

As those reading this blog already know, I'm fixated on end-of-the-world scenarios. Be they in book form, games, or movies -- I just can't get enough. Particularly if zombies or some other form of undead are involved (mutants? vampires? mutant vampire zombies?). I don't know what it is, but there's something about vast, trashed landscapes littered with shambling hordes of festering boogie men that just thrills me to no end.

And I'm left wondering: what does that says about me? :)

It's interesting, given that this fixation didn't really begin until I played the original Resident Evil game on the PlayStation back in 1998. Before then, I actually hated zombie fiction. Especially the old Living Dead movies. Zombies were always too silly to me, and those types of movies way boring. But with Resident Evil, the game actually made me fear for my life as I tried to blast my way through too-narrow zombie-infested halls and labs in my search for an escape route out of some old, scary mansion.

And while I would never *really* want to be in such a scenario in real life, the thrill was there nonetheless. When it really hit me bad was when I played the sequel a few months later. This time, the zombie infection had spread to the nearby metropolis, and now there were a hundred thousand zombies (and worse!) roaming the streets in search of fresh meat. The big city setting of RE2 really cut close to home seeing as I live in NYC. So naturally I found myself wondering what it would be like if I was one of the last people alive in a New York gone to the undead. What would I do? How would I escape?

Yeah, I'm a strange guy. What can I say?

Anyway, all this is just my roundabout way of bringing up that I saw Resident Evil: Degeneration last night on DVD. It's a CGI animated flick based on the games and *NOT* the live-action shit starring Mila Jovovich that has been mucking up movie screens for the past few years.

RE: Degeneration takes place chronologically after the RE3 and RE: Code Veronica games, but just before RE4. It reunites two of the main characters from RE2, which is considered by most old-time fans as the best RE game ever! Which it is.

The movie was highly entertaining, mostly because I got to revisit old friends from my past (so it seemed), but also because it brings back zombies into the RE consciousness again -- rather than the super-speedy, disturbingly lucid and intelligent "neo zombies" of the more recent games like RE4. No, the zombies in this movie are the classic slow-moving, gang-up-in-hordes creatures of old. And I loved every minute of it!

This isn't a movie for a newcomer or even a casual fan of the series to enjoy. There's a lot of innuendo and connections to the video game series as a whole, and only someone deeply immersed in the collective plotline can truly enjoy the quirks of the script. It's classic Resident Evil when seen through the lens of the video games.

To everyone else, however, it just seems like a shoddy, unintelligible B-grade animated. Which is sad. I mean, I can see why this movie would suck for anyone else, honestly. But ultimately I don't care. It satisfied my zombie apocalyptic needs, and that's all that matters.

I'm hoping I get to continue on this fix when I eventually delve into Fallout 3 for the Xbox 360, which promises to be drowning in all that apocalyptic goodness that I love so much. It's a game which I've already talked about here, but which is way too huge for me to begin until I'm properly ready (which should hopefully be the end of the month).

Until then, have fun in the apocalypse! I know I will . . .

Food For Thought . . .

Allow me to wax philosophical for a moment here . . .

Do your memories truly make you who you are?

I always used to say: yes! Everything that you are in life is due to the memories you've had since birth. What you are today is shaped by the experiences of your past.

Yet on the morning commute I started to wonder: are memories just window dressing for the core essence that is you? In other words, would your personality really alter so much if your memories were stripped bare and replaced with others?

There is no easy answer to this. If baby me were taken from this world and plopped on an alien planet, how much would the grownup alien me really differ from the Earth me of today?

Sure, due to a difference of experiences, I would certainly have altered views and attitudes on the universe, no doubt. But would I go from being a mild-mannered, semi-pacifistic New Yorker to a raging, uncontrollably murdering psychopath? Perhaps not. More importantly, would those who love me recognize the alien David as possessing the same core essence as the Earth me?

Religious people and spiritualists would believe so. But I still lean more towards my initial view. Or perhaps it's a little of both? Our memories *are* us, but we are not our memories. At least, not completely. If you were to perfectly record all of my life memories and transfer them, say, to an empty pod-person clone, would that clone suddenly be me?

Seems unlikely, no?

There might be something more to us than just the sum total of our memories . . .

A Weird Contraption, And Another Man-Bag Sighting!!!

Lisa and I went to the movies Sunday -- a rare outing indeed, as Sundays are usually our stay-at-home and unwind together day. We saw two movies: Twilight and Slumdog Millionaire. The review for the latter is one entry down on this page. Read it. It was an awesome movie.

Twilight was not so awesome, which is why you won't find a review of it here. It's really only for teen girls or women who've read the novels (or both). I don't include men in this category, although I'm sure there's one or two who might really, REALLY like this kind of thing. Basically, it's very teen angsty and emo -- the type of film someone watches just before slitting their wrists. Now, I like vampire movies. You know I do. And I've read my fair share of vampire-themed novels in my time. A *lot* in fact. But Meyer's version of vampires (at least from what I can tell from this movie alone) seems like a rehash of everything I've read/seen before. For some reason, the mythos strongly evokes the "Underworld" brand of games/movies/literature for me. Anyway, if you like high school lovey-dovey drama with a bite (ahem), then this is the film for you. Just be prepared to wade through the throngs of giggly teenage girls to get to your seat, tho (yes, there were quite a few of these groups in my theater).

Anyway, as me and Lisa were riding up the escalator to get into the theater, guess what I just happened to see? Yup, another freaking MAN PURSE!!!! Arghhhhh!


You see? You people thought I was exaggerating, right? But literally one fucking day after posting that entry, I get smacked in the face with this thing! God help us, but they're taking over NYC I tell ya! Run!

(ha, ha)

Oh, and I went to the restroom before the movies and was confronted with an odd gadget when looking for the paper towels after washing my hands.






Has anyone seen this before? Lisa informs me that they've been out for a while now, and asked: where the hell have you been? But honestly, I was taken aback by this. It's some sort of fancy, new-fangled type of hand dryer. You basically stick you hands right inside that slot and get what feels like a jumbo jet turbine unleashed on your wet hands. Seriously, the air is amazingly powerful. It gets your hands bone dry in literally 3 seconds flat! Whoa!

I'd hate to see one of these puppies attached to the inside of a toilet seat, although I hear they have them in Japan. I would imagine some people would get a little *too* much pleasure out of that, if you know what I mean.

Eww!

Okay, Since When Was It Cool For A Man To Carry A Purse?

Here in New York City, I'm witnessed to a lot of crazy fashion choices that leave me scratching my head. But this latest fad among men is driving me bat shit insane! I've always heard of the man purse (or "murse")--which is also called a man bag--but the ones I've seen that are favored by European men look nothing like this. This is going too far! What's next, matching pumps and hoop earrings?

The first time I saw this, I was walking down the street. The guy in front of me had a full-on woman's bag hanging from his shoulder. It wasn't a messenger bag. *I* have a messenger bag--it's the type of bag you can fit a laptop into. In my day it was called a satchel.

But this . . . this is a completely different animal.

I mean, WTF? This is not cool. I know that as a man we sometimes need a place to stick our extra crap just like women. In my case, I'm constantly carrying around loads of books, papers, magazines, and work files. That's what a messenger bag is for. But this thing with big, loopy straps and supple leather exterior? Um, no. That my friend is a purse. Or handbag. Or whatever women call it. But the important thing is, it's for WOMEN!

On the subway, I saw another man with a similar type bag slung over one shoulder. But this one had a black & white tiger print pattern. You heard me right: TIGER FUCKING PRINT! I'm waiting to see rainbows and kisses next. Or maybe X's and O's written in pink lipstick all up and down the bag. *barf*

I'm thinking of starting my own photo essay collection, that's how bad it's getting. I'll take my camera with me wherever I go, and when I see one of these walking vaginas around town, I'm going to snap pics and post them on Flicker. Then you'll know I'm not kidding around here.

What I thought was just an odd sighting or two has recently blown up to a full out invasion in this city. And I'm sure it's not limited to just New York. Oh, and before you ask: no, these dudes did not seem like they were gay to me. I mean, I can't exactly tell of course. But from what my limited abilities can deduce, these guys are straight. They've just been brainwashed by this metrosexual phase that's been sweeping the country over the past several years.

And it needs to stop. I mean, seriously!

Chivalry Died On The "A" Train

This morning on my commute in, the "A" train was its usual crowded tin of sardines. Which meant I had to stand the whole way to work -- a 40 minute long ride for me. Anyway I noticed something that made me realize (yet again) that there is something fundamentally missing from the youth of this city. I've noticed this trend before, but never really actually thought about it until this morning.

Chivalry is dead!

Now, of course, New York City is not quite the bastion of politeness and good manners, and nowhere is this more apparent than on the NYC subway system. People will just as soon ignore a pregnant woman as give her a seat. I give my seat to pregnant women, the infirm, and the elderly on general principle. But that's the way I am. And surprisingly, *most* other people are as well. Not all, but most. New Yorkers are assholes, but from my experience not more per capita than any other city in this country.

So, no, what I observed this morning didn't fall under the banner of general politeness which most New Yorkers actually do extend to each other in this great big city of ours. No, this has to do not with how we treat strangers in public, but with those we're romantically inclined towards.

Let me preface this with a rather obvious, though necessary, example first: when Lisa and I are on the subway, and if there is only one seat available, she gets the seat. End of story. It's not even something I think twice about or bemoan or anything. It's simply automatic. And that's the way it should be, right?

Well apparently not. I don't know if this is an age thing or a cultural thing, but I've now seen on numerous occasions where a teenage couple (and I stretch the word "couple" a tad here) are faced with the same scenario, but it's the male half that takes the seat. And not only does the SO of this equation not protest, she actually seems genuinely *okay* with the arrangement.

WTF? Did I stay home the day they issued a public decree thereby disavowing all young males from the act of performing common decency? Since when has this been *okay*?

And, as I've said, this was not the first time. I've seen the exact scenario play out half a dozen times on my way to work now. A teenage girl and boy, obviously on their way to school, making googly eyes at each other, standing way too close, but yet pretending like it's not really all that serious. Then a seat becomes available, the two walk towards it, and without even a moment's hesitation, the boy sits down rather than the girl. The girl then continues talking and laughing with the boy as if a major breach in interpersonal etiquette had not just transpired.

Again: WTF?

I've tried to rationalize how this could be happening within the youth culture of today. And I can only come to 3 possibilities:

1) The parents of these kids never taught them manners.

2) Pop culture of the day has dictated a new code of behavior between boyfriend and girlfriend, whereby boys get treated as if they're "the shit," and girls glibly stand by while feeding into their BF's egos.

3) A natural progression of the age-old quandary that girls like bad boys, and good boys never get laid.

So in this equation: (being a punk + stuckup asshole) * the degree of your indifference = girls forming long lines for the privilege of gulping down your junk.

In order to stay sane, I'll allow for the fact that No. 3 on that list is simply absurd, and lean more towards No. 1 instead.

Unless No. 2 is the actual reality here, in which case our planet is seriously and utterly SCREWED!

Anyone else notice this? Is this just with young people? And, if so, what the hell is wrong here?

The Young Vote

I'm getting sick and tired of hearing about the "young vote." Never have I heard such a crock of shit than the belief that young people will decide this election. Who's been lacing the Kool Aid?

Truth of the matter is, young voters are STUPID and LAZY. Every election the media makes a big deal about voter registration drives on campuses across America, rife with footage of earnest young people proclaiming how the right to vote is sacred and how they take their responsibility SO seriously.

You know what, young people? Go STFU!

Because after every election comes the reports of historically low voter turnout among young voters. Just look at the last election. Remember "Rock The Vote" and "Vote or Die"? Remember MTV rallying all the Puff Daddies and Eminems out there to charge up the young vote and get them to the polls? Yeah, remember how well that went?

So, it's cute for the media to pretend that the 18-24 vote actually matters. But let's be honest, we relied on it the last time and it got us nowhere. I'm not implying that young people would vote more liberal if they *did* exercise their right. But the fact of the matter is that that last two elections were really close. And the young voters did not show up. If they had, do you not think things might have turned out differently? I think so.

When I went to the polling station this morning, the line was out the door. But you know what? I can honestly say I saw maybe 5 people younger than me. Only 1 was under 24. Trust me, I kept an eye out for this. I'm sure most of this was due to the fact that it was 7am in the morning. I did say they were LAZY, didn't I? I really shouldn't have expected a college student to be up at such a godforsaken hour of the day. What was I thinking?

Anyway, the youth vote is a joke. Obama's people are wasting their time e-mailing and texting these poor excuses for human beings. Young voters believe that they don't need to vote because the right decision will be made regardless. And that, whatever the outcome, it doesn't affect them anyway. Because their own personal problems are so much more important. Yeah, okay.

Yes, I know I'm only 32. But sometimes I look at these young people and feel such a gulf between our priorities, despite only being 8 or 10 years apart.

Well, here ends my old man rant for the day! :) I'll write about fluffy kittens in my next entry to make up for it.

Don't Misconfuse Me

Just thought I'd clarify something peculiar with me for some folk. All throughout my life, but especially starting in high school, I've always been called "quiet." Fine, I admit, I am very quiet. I keep to myself, always have. But what I don't like is when people mistake my need for solitude with being shy or even unfriendly.

WTF?

Just because I don't grin like an idiot at every person I meet or go out of my way to introduce myself does not make me shy. And just because I can't *stand* making small talk and asking you about things I really don't care about (hey, how bout them Giants?) doesn't mean I'm some uncaring bastard who doesn't like making friends.

I like friends. I have a bunch, and they're all cool people. Most of my friends are folks who, for one reason or another, have been able to instantly look past my quietude and see that I'm actually a decent person. So they don't see me as cold at all. But even most of my friends think of me as shy. I don't get it. I'm actually the opposite of shy. I'll stand in your face and tell you off if you cross me, and I've always surprised people with my public speaking ability. Just because I don't talk doesn't mean I don't know how to, or to do so LOUDLY. There's few things I'm afraid of in this world, and other people's opinions are not on that list.

I'm usually not one to strike up a conversation. But if you talk to me, I will converse back. I'm never rude like truly socially inept people are. When I'm by myself, I'm actually lost in furious thought. What I mean is, there are a thousand things going on in my head at any given time. Quite often, if you see me sitting down staring off into space -- I'm not ignoring you. I'm working on two separate story ideas; or revising my grocery list; or pondering the thought of growing old; or marveling at why kids are so care free and full of life (and why can't we be more like them?)

You see, sometimes I have so much to think about that I actually *forget* there are other people around me. If you're not speaking to me directly, my brain switches to another gear and entertains itself. :)

Anyway, now you know. There was no particular reason for me to write all this, just that I noticed on the elevator ride up to the office that people fidget and shift around me when trying to come up with something--ANYTHING--to talk about. And I just want to say: relax, man. Why can't you just stand still and enjoy the elevator ride in peace?

Are people so afraid to be left alone with their own thoughts?

Pride Goeth Before A Fall

A while back on my MySpace blog, I posted this rant on why I've always viewed ethnic pride with suspicion, to put it mildly.

Well, it seems some studies bear my suspicions out, though through a different tangent than the one I had chosen to focus on in that post.

I scoped this article out on the LiveScience.com feed today. In it, the author talks about a study which links group pride with insecurity. Imagine that.

"The new study reveals how two types of pride are related to a person's good feelings about one social group or another to which they belong. These good feelings could come from being a Los Angeles Lakers fan (when they win), a war veteran, a member of a particular ethnic group or a sorority gal or fraternity brother. But while authentic pride is linked with real confidence in your group, hubristic pride is a false arrogance that belies insecurities about one's group."

I think there's some validity to the study, especially the delineation between authentic pride for one's team/ethnic group, and the more damaging boastful kind of pride that I'm against. Unfortunately, more people fall into the latter than the former category in my experience.

The angry Yankees fan screaming loudly that the "Red Sox SUCKS!" is really not so different from the black man screaming "Black power!" and "KILL WHITEY!" all the time. Both individuals have serious issues of self-doubt to work through. And when you lump them all together in a large group of similarly-minded individuals . . . well now you're just asking for trouble.

Like Gandhi, I believe in quiet humility and hard work to speak of one's actions, not boastful shouts.

We're Suffering From A Cult Of Personality Disorder

I think people are entirely too obsessed with the lives of celebrities. And it's not just an American thing, but world wide. Pick a country, and I'll show you the huge, vampiric industries that have grown up around their native pop stars and actors for the sole purpose of disseminating to the masses every tiny detail of these people's existence. It's truly a mind-boggling phenomenon.

Although we live in a world with entirely more important things to worry about, for some reason folks just can't seem to get enough of what the Royals are up to in jolly ol' England, or what some Bollywood starlet was seen doing with a married man in Mumbai -- or who Angelina Jolie is giving birth to this week.

I guess the reasons are obvious, though. People like to be distracted. And what better distraction than to get into the sordid affairs and gossip of someone *else's* life? But not just anyone. It has to be someone whom all your friends and neighbors know, or else no one will give a damn. Enter the entertainment industry, tailor-made to supply the recognizable faces everyone needs to pin their hopes and dreams upon, but even better to see crash and burn. To remind us that, hey, even the shiniest of angels must eventually take a header into the muck and despair that is normal life for everyone else.

I guess this is why soap operas never go out of fashion. It's like a car wreck for some folks; you wince when you see it, but once you've seen it you can't tear yourself away. Broken marriages, betrayed friendships, tragedies in the family -- so entertaining when they're not happening to you!

But honestly, must we consume so much of this crap? How many shows (TMZ), tv channels (E!), tabloids (The Sun), and magazines (People) must we be inundated with? Whenever I scan through the tv, every other channel these days seems to have some ditsy half-a-man with glistening teeth and frosted tips expounding breathlessly about the latest "hook-up" between so-and-so heartthrob and missy-pissy diva as if my very existence depended on knowing this information.

It doesn't.

And you know, the more and more this world seems to be heading into the wastebasket, the more these entertainment venues ramp up the salacious details. If you need a more obvious example of having the wool pulled over your eyes than that, you need to get out more. It's like a doctor giving the kid a lollipop in the hopes he'll forget that you just poked him in the arm with a foot long needle. In this day and age of global terrorism, collapsing real estate markets, and the dismantling of the global economy, I don't need a Ryan Seacrest popping up and saying -- oh, hey, guess who's been seen jay-walking across Sunset Blvd?

Seriously, get away from me, dude.

But hey, I guess it's a good thing people are distracted. After all, we can't have the masses getting disgruntled and unruly if they decided to focus more on, say, who's running this country or--god forbid--what the mega conglomerates are doing to our planet. That would be a disaster.

So let us ponder instead: Is Tom Cruise really insane, or does he just have a giddy, child-like affinity for over plush sofas? Personally, I think he enjoys good domestically woven upholstery. Or at least his feet do.

This Is Getting Annoying

I live in the South Bronx, one of the poorest demographics in the U.S. We have more people living on welfare, per capita, than any other place in the nation I believe. I *know* this, but it was something I just placed in the back of my head. I never criticized people for taking government handouts, because, hell, my mother was on welfare herself. It's how she was able to raise us all on her own.

But I don't know, the older I get the more indignant I've become over the situation. Nowhere is it more frustrating than at the supermarket, where recently things have been getting way out of hand. It used to be that I would see someone use foodstamps at the grocery store twice maybe three times in a week. But lately, it's been EVERY SINGLE TIME I go to the checkout counter. It's getting to the point where *I'm* the one who gets funny looks now when I pull out cash. Like as if greenbacks are the new foodstamps. And of course, they no longer even use foodstamps anymore. Now it's an actual plastic card with the word "BENEFITS" embossed on the upper right corner. So now these people pretend like as if they have debit cards, and not what it actually is--a handout from the good ol' taxpayers of NYC. In other words, me!

God, I'm sounding like a Republican now. Listen to me go.

But why does this bother me so? Well because these people, for being poor, end up buying two to three shopping carts worth of food. Yikes! How 'bout you save some food for the rest of us poor hungry working stiffs here, huh? For someone who's supposed to be living a meager subsistence on the the government's generosity, some of these people sure do take full advantage of the situation.

At the cashier, this becomes a problem because the girl has to ring up and bag all these items herself, then spend an extra 5 minutes filling out a special form for BENEFITS cards and then waiting for the customer to swipe the card through and enter a code. Meanwhile I'm stuck there with my 6 or 7 items for like 15 minutes, just wanting to go home already. I swear, it happens every single time now. Some hugely obese woman is standing there arguing with the cashier over the sales price for the deluxe, gargantuan box of Fruit Loops. Argh!

The worst, however, is when an able-bodied man pulls out the card. I just want to smack the punk. Go get a job, you lazy bastard. Why the hell am I paying for you to live, and then to add insult to injury I have to wait in line behind you, too? Back when my mother was on welfare, she was never this arrogant with it. It was also with a quiet sense of shame that she pulled out the roll of "color money" as we used to call it. And the cashiers were always so rude to us back then. Not anymore. It's become such a common sight that no one even blinks now when the card comes out.

Nowadays, these people have such attitudes. I heard one woman even have the nerve to be talking to her friend and cursing out "the white man" and this country, meanwhile using taxpayer's money sanctioned by said government to stuff her fat face and those of her illegitimate brats. Nice going there, moms. Show that true patriotic spirit for the mean, bad country that feeds you and allows your family to live.

Gotta love it.

Anyway, let me stop now. Sorry I had to take you down this ugly road, folks. Just wanted to get it off my chest.

I promise to play nicer next time. :-)