STANK: Musings from the Round Mound of Unprofound http://checkraise.com/rants2/index.php3/ STANK: Musings from the Round Mound of Unprofound en 2010-03-11T12:33:11-08:00 kind of creepy-hot http://checkraise.com/rants2/archive3/2010/03/kind_of_creepy-.html Before the Olympics are too far distant, allow me to make fun of the Canadian team's sweaters. Embarrassing enough that it looks like the sweater Colin Firth wore in Bridget Jones' Diary, but look closely at the the antlers. Including their placement.

2083978.jpg

]]>
john 2010-03-11T12:33:11-08:00
maybe i'm amazing http://checkraise.com/rants2/archive3/2010/03/maybe_im_amazin.html Young Lilly is scalp-deep in grad school. By text she wailed weepy, plaintive noises at me. I remember that feeling. Grad school was certainly the most transforming period of my life, but my god, did I ever hate it when I was there.

And thus did I send Lilly a huge care package of gourmet treats.

"You are amazing," read the subsequent text from her. It felt weird.

And I realized, with a jolt, that this was the first time a woman had ever directed these words at me without drips of sarcasm.

]]>
friends & enemies john 2010-03-10T09:28:56-08:00
no place like home http://checkraise.com/rants2/archive3/2010/03/no_place_like_h.html Someone gets shot at Ohio State and suddenly this is national news? WTF? We called those days "school days."

No, the real surprise to me is that Ohio State actually conducts performance evaluations of its employees.

]]>
john 2010-03-09T11:04:29-08:00
the difference between men and women... http://checkraise.com/rants2/archive3/2010/03/the_difference.html ...is that women do this to one another virtually. It has its merits, but literal makes for better video.

I have watched this clip at least 20 times. I'm not proud. I'm just sayin.'

]]>
john 2010-03-09T08:23:24-08:00
fit me for my strand of pearls http://checkraise.com/rants2/archive3/2010/03/fit_me_for_my_s.html Barbara Bush famously stormed out of the theatre during Silence of the Lambs. "I didn't come to a movie to see people's skin being taken off," she remarked. Fair enough, but I remember thinking Poor woman is so out-of-touch that she doesn't see how freakin' COOL this movie is.

What goes around hath come around.

18 Best Pictures later, I find that I, too, have walked out on the winner. Not that The Hurt Locker offended or surprised me. It was more or less exactly what I expected, only boring. Around the fifth "tense" bomb-defusing scene, I found my mind wandering. When my mind drifted back, it was not kind to Hurt Locker. Jesus fucking christ, this is monotonous. Haven't I already seen this scene three or five times? I realized that I didn't care if the characters blew up. I realized that I didn't know the characters' names. I thought of them in terms of their archetype. That's the Guy Who Might Snap. That's the Trailer Trash. That's the Noble Black Man. That's the Guy On His Last Tour of Duty. I wonder what Dex is doing in her crate right now? Fuck this. I'm bored.

So I left with 20 minutes or so to go.

As much as I'd like to chalk this up to my barbarabushification, I suspect something far less amusing is at work. That Kathryn Bigelow's film would win, and she for Best Director, was a fait accompli ages ago. What a story! The first female director to win those honors! Against her ex-husband, even!

And indeed it is a great story. I just wish it seemed more earned and less ordained by people who very much like to congratulate themselves for setting the trends of proper thought. (Now that's getting the most possible mileage out of their high school diplomas.) Indeed, the collective praise for the film seemingly amounts to little more than "It was directed by a woman."

But maybe, I thought, Maybe I'm just reading too much into this.

chronic_masturbator_tshirt-p235418084484278979qq9u_400.jpgAnd then it came time for the Best Director award. Expecting to see last year's winner, Danny Boyle, be the presenter as custom dictates, I moaned when the most self-congratulatory windbag of them all trotted out instead. Tonight, Barbara Steisand was delighted to tell us, the first woman director might win. (Pause so you can applaud) Or the first black director, which would be delightful too. (Pause so you can applaud) And when she opened the fateful envelope, she didn't merely announce the name. "Well, The Time Is Now," she intoned in bold title caps, thereby ensuring her own place in history as this moment is reshown. And then she announced what we already knew with certainty to such a degree, Steisand and not Boyle was presenting. Barbara Steisand, the Rosa Parks of female directors, slighted for Yentl because of her vagina and not because it sucked bilgewater.

Yentl, that is.

Enjoy your circle-jerk, Academy. You earned it. Me, I'm going to go watch Lost in Translation, by the vastly more deserving Sophia Coppola.

But one question remains: who'd you pay to take your GED test?

]]>
politics john 2010-03-08T11:13:03-08:00
the john rules http://checkraise.com/rants2/archive3/2010/03/ive_worked_for.html I've worked for friends for ten years straight, navigating safely from one to the other. While I wouldn't trade the feelings of mutual trust and safety, this arrangement has had one horrible downside. When I was writing yesterday's post, I realized just how much like talking with girlfriends' parents this downside is.

I can't be me.

Out of friendship.

When I was working for that cocksucking sleaze Ernest, I couldn't have cared less if I made him look bad. Heck, it was fun. But would I do that to Flo? To Christy? No, the friendship comes first, before my need to call out people's incompetence and disingenuousness.

This has led to the same exchange occurring over and over in my last ten years of work. Only the boss' name changes.

Annette: "Do you want to work with J.B. on [insert some horrible product]?"

John: "Do you want to rephrase your sentence such that you get a response you like?"

Annette: "Work with J.B. on it."

John: "Do I have the green light to handle him how I see fit?"

Annette: "Do I look stupid?"

The rules that have emerged when I work for a friend, then:
  1. I always ask permission before going off on someone.
  2. That permission is never, ever, under any circumstances granted.
]]>
microsoft john 2010-03-05T10:57:12-08:00
silence stew http://checkraise.com/rants2/archive3/2010/03/silence_stew.html Over 90% of the responses to yesterday's question about handling bigotry-blurters indicated that yes, it also happens to people whose haircuts Allie favors. I didn't really see a pattern geographically. The retorts ran the gamut from "stewing in silence" (you) to "telling the stranger you hope he dies really, really soon" (me). Amazingly, I've never been punched in the face in this particular circumstance.

I didn't employ this the other night, however, as he was a volunteer and I was there in an official capacity. I felt like my hands were rhetorically tied. It was very much like when a girlfriend's parents spew bigoted crap.

"Honey, do I have your permission to—"

"No."

"But what if I only—"

"Fuck no."

]]>
survey john 2010-03-04T12:58:10-08:00
again http://checkraise.com/rants2/archive3/2010/03/again.html The dog park meeting last night hadn't broken up for three seconds before some Old White Fart with an Overdeveloped Sense of Entitlement (OWFOSE) had me trapped in a conversation, literally pinning me to the wall by blocking my escape. I'd never met him before, but man, did he ever have opinions he thought the guy who contributes nothing but wisecracks should hear. Racist opinions.

How, you might reasonably ask, do racist remarks rear their head in a community meeting about dog parks, in a five-minute conversation between strangers?

Allie says it never happens to her, which given how hermetically sealed my life is (for JUST this sort of reason, I might add), surprises me. "It must be the way you look," cheerfully offers the #1 critic of my shaved head.

I'm not buying it. So I throw it open to you. (Note to Mike and d'Andre: bigoted things I say don't count.)

]]>
rudeness john 2010-03-03T07:35:50-08:00
i believe for every drop of rain that falls, a flower grows. i believe that somewhere in the darkest night, a candle glows! i believe for everyone who goes astray, someone will come to show the way! i believe, I believe! http://checkraise.com/rants2/archive3/2010/02/i_believe_for_e.html Ozzie Guillen now has a Twitter account.

Ozzie. Freakin'. Guillen. Unhandled, unfiltered, unspellchecked. For the first time in my life, I 1) believe in God and 2) say the following without a trace of sarcasm: I can't wait for baseball season to start.

]]>
sports john 2010-02-28T22:43:12-08:00
tailgating http://checkraise.com/rants2/archive3/2010/02/tailgating.html Like most tech firms, my employer makes you scan your ID card whenever you enter a building. When someone with no ID card tries to follow someone else through a door, they call it "tailgating." I've always thought that a poor metaphor. It's more like "drafting."

The other day, I couldn't find my ID, and I stood at the door and did the Keycard Patdown of all my pockets. I shan't be posting a video, but trust that this is the lily-whitest of all dances. A stranger held the door as he patiently watched a dork swat himself, and we shared a knowing look.

"Who on earth would go in there who didn't have to be there?" I sighed.

"Now I know you work here," he replied, gesturing for me to walk through.

]]>
john 2010-02-26T08:49:36-08:00
waggot season http://checkraise.com/rants2/archive3/2010/02/waggot_season.html The site appears to be back up. Such is the mystery of my ISP.

• • •

Perusing Facebook, I saw that Mike had just fanned the group "Seattle Gay Scene." Specifically, it looked like this:

"Mike Pinkpoofter has become a fan of Seattle Gay Scene."
Seeking something to mock, I clicked the second link. It was then that I discovered that unlike with status updates or groups, the fan link does more than show you the item in question.
"You have become a fan of Seattle Gay Scene."
Ha, ha. Imagine my family's face when they see that. They've long suspected. I like cooking and Glee, after all, and no girlfriend has stuck around longer than six years. Something's seriously up with that.

And then I tried to un-fan Seattle Gay Scene. Took me a good 20 minutes of combing my configuration to figure out that you have to open the fan page you've never before opened, then click "Remove Me As a Fan." 20 increasingly less amused minutes. 20 costly minutes.

"Poor little waggot," Mike chided.

]]>
friends & enemies john 2010-02-24T09:12:56-08:00
two hours is a luxuriously long time to plan your friend's grisly murder http://checkraise.com/rants2/archive3/2010/02/two_hours_is_a.html "Wanna smoke?"

Dirt knows I haven't taken a day off work in a month, so the offer was especially sweet to my ears. God, yes. I'll be right over.

"This is Brian," Dirt said, pointing to a stranger offering me a Cuban cigar.

"You're the computer guy?" Brian asked. "Got any degrees?"

Beware strangers bearing Cubans.

For the glacial next two hours, I smoked that Cuban and listened to Brian's business idea. He made me swear not to divulge it, but as you'll see in 29 words' time, absolutely nothing will come of my sharing it with a mass audience. Brian's big idea: people can use the Web to teach one another...around the world!

His patent was rejected, but he's resubmitting it.

"My friend the second-ranked quantum physicist in the world says this could be the first company in the world with a trillion-dollar market cap."

Maybe with a trillion dollars in venture capital, sure.

Over and over, he talked about the brilliance of his idea, about how he couldn't believe that he beat Bill Gates and Steve Jobs and Warren Buffet to it. Eventually Dirt just got up and went inside, abandoning me to listen to the unremitting drone of Brian's self-delusions. "We're gonna save the economy and change the world," he said, shaking his head meaningfully, at least a dozen times.

In fact, I have now shared every last thing Brian said in two hours during which he talked unremittingly. As you might imagine, there was some repetition. Finally, he concluded with "So what do you think of my business idea, John?"

"Enough about you, what do I think about you?" I replied.

"Right," he replied with no self-awareness.

]]>
friends & enemies john 2010-02-19T09:01:36-08:00
i prefer the word "stabby" http://checkraise.com/rants2/archive3/2010/02/i_prefer_the_wo.html Allie calls me to blather about her pointless day. About 30 seconds in, she stops.

"Are you in Redmond?" she asks.

A stunning guess, considering I visit Microsoft's campus only about an hour a month.

"Yeah, actually, I am. How-"

"You sounded really pissed off."

]]>
microsoft john 2010-02-17T11:48:32-08:00
fair's fair http://checkraise.com/rants2/archive3/2010/02/fairs_fair.html Continuing the theme, here's a Canadian mocking Americans' whiney pussitude when it snows. Kind of hard to argue with him.

In the Puget Sound area, we don't get much snow at all. I haven't seen a single flake this winter. Perhaps because of inexperience on ice and snow, the drivers here are not to be believed. They brake on inclines. They brake on curves. They brake because a cloud looks kinda like a teapot. I have no compunction about driving on snow back East, but here? I don't have a death-wish.

]]>
john 2010-02-16T09:00:31-08:00
with glowing hearts we see thee....rise? dammit, rise! http://checkraise.com/rants2/archive3/2010/02/with_glowing_he.html You know how you feel when your friend comes out of the bathroom into a crowded bar teeming with hotties and your friend is trailing 20 feet of toilet paper out of their pants? That was the exact feeling I had watching the opening ceremonies in Vancouver Friday night. No matter how perfectly charming your friend had been prior to the toilet paper, all anyone in the room would remember was the toilet paper.

Oh, Canada. Here comes some teasing from your favorite sib.

If you're going to incorporate giant crystal wangs into your opening ceremonies, was it really necessary to hammer the point home by having them slowly rise into the air? They already had heads and clefts, for chrissakes. Give your audience some credit. Sometimes less is more.

totems.jpg

That imagery only made your torch snafu worse. When later you couldn't get it up, how could we not make erectile dysfunction jokes? Don't worry. Once in a while, it happens to every country.

The torch moment did lead to my absolute favorite photo from these or any Olympic games. Here's flame-bearer Wayne Gretzky's face at about Minute IV of billions of people watching him stand there helplessly, watching the torch not rise.

gretzky.jpg

When did he start looking like Richard Nixon?

• • •

Attention Canadian readers: I'm afraid I require yet another apology for Bryan Adams. Any Canadian will do.

]]>
john 2010-02-15T00:11:42-08:00