Jade Helm, five years on. We remember!

Memories fade as time passes, but as Real Americans we are compelled to pause every so often and reflect upon the many events – good and bad – which form milestones in our country’s collective history. The story of America is one of challenge and triumph, victory and tragedy, uncertainty and accomplishment.

Then there are the days you just look around and ask random passersby, “What the actual fuck?”

Today, we recall just such an occasion, as it was precisely five years ago on this day which will live in incredulity that the United States launched an unprecedented invasion upon its own soil. Driven by unseen influencers operating in the shadows of the New World Order, military forces descended upon the hapless state of Texas, U.S. by God A., with the intention of…well, the full truth may never really be known.

JADE HELM 15 – WHAT THEY DON’T WANT YOU TO KNOW

Jade Helm is over. VICTORY!

That’s right, patriots! After a long, arduous campaign, the forces of tyranny are in retreat. We have successfully defended our homeland from those who would seek to oppress us. Outstanding job, warriors. This will be a day long remembered. Official reports are beginning to filter in from the front lines. For example, we have The Washington Post:

Remember Jade Helm 15, the controversial military exercise? It’s over.

Though the war may be over, the rebuilding is just beginning. We have much work to do in order to restore our pristine lands to their former glory, erasing the scars and pain of the battles fought here. At last report, requests for federal aid were still being considered.

Meanwhile, savor your victory, and hey! Check it out: Overstock sales on ammo and beef jerky. Everybody wins!

Jade Helm sitrep: D-Day.

Unless you’ve been living under a rock, you likely know that today, July 15th, was the first day of the “controversial” military training exercise Jade Helm 15. Now, depending on whom you ask, this is either the latest in a long string of such exercises the military has performed over years and years, or a plot by the Obama Administration to launch a federal takeover of certain “enemy states,” such as Texas.

For those of you who lack a basic understanding of United States history and politics, Texas has been a member of our union since well before Obama became president, and for more than a century before he was even born, but let’s not let facts and logic start to pull at the threads of this particular tapestry, all right?

Anyway, if you’ve clicked on the handy link I provided up above, you’re now familiar with what Jade Helm is supposed to be (or what its disinformation campaign wants you to think it’s supposed to be, etc.). Today was the first day of fun for the folks in uniform participating in the exercise, and of course attention from all over was focused on it to see if Obama’s nefarious plot would unfold before our very eyes.

My second favorite “Rush in Kansas City!” story.

This past Thursday evening, the family and I ventured to the Sprint Center here in Kansas City to take in yet another concert featuring my favorite band.

What made this outing special was that it was the first ever *real* rock concert for the girls. I had long hoped that I would get to take them to see the band play live, and in doing so set the bar high and early so far as future concerts were concerned. It was something I’d been plotting pretty much from the moment Michi showed me that first pregnancy test.

So, you know…MISSSION ACCOMPLISHED.

With that addressed, what was my second favorite part of this story? It was the one I didn’t even know about until a friend on Facebook sent me a link to website article:

Westboro Baptist Picketers Epically Trolled At Kansas City Rush Concert

That’s right! One of Kansas’ most renowned exports decided to check out the haps in downtown KC, and as you might expect, they were their usual warm, welcoming, loving selves, in keeping with the teachings of the Lord and stuff.

Oh, wait….

For the most part, their antics were ignored. As I said, I didn’t even know they were there, as we’d entered the Center from its opposite side one block over. However, that didn’t stop a few fans from doing their part to welcome the WBC contingent:

(Photo Credit: F.T. Boley)

Hawt.

(And the expression from the WBCer on the left is priceless.)

I have to say, though, that I admire the WBC’s pluck in turning out for the concert. Their numbers were easily double what I’ve seen when I’ve encountered them at other events, such as anytime Kevin Smith comes to town. I doubt they converted anybody, but it’s nice to know that you can always count on them to provide a pre-show laugh or two.

Heh.

Another entry for my “People Are Assholes” file.

Note to drivers passing through unfamiliar residential neighborhoods because you’re impatient and in a hurry and you’ve gotten yourselves lost because you’re impatient and in a hurry, even if the reason for you being in a hurry and lost is through no real fault of your own:

Yes, Wheaton’s Law is appropriate even in this circumstance.

Here’s how it went down:

There was a wreck on the highway south of my house this morning. It ended up being west of me, too, near a major interchange where three different highways converge, but the backup was such that it spilled back to the east by several miles, and people were leaving the highway and taking to surface streets and attempting to get past the scene. A lot of these folks likely didn’t know where the wreck was, or even where they were, as they ended up driving through my neighborhood in a vain hope of regaining the highway.

My neighborhood is such that we’re several blocks from main arteries, and the only real traffic we typically see is from residents and their visitors as well as the usual assortment of delivery vehicles, etc. Anybody who’s “not from around here” sticks out pretty quickly, and that’s even before they come tear-assing down my street at 50 miles an hour.

I had just come home from dropping the kids at school and was walking out to the mailbox when one such car came screaming around the corner and down the street, heading for the only option he was about to have: A sharp turn to the right. Seeing me, he slams on his brakes and lowers his window, and in the finest tradition of human interaction ever recorded, greets me thusly:

“Hey! How the hell do I get the fuck out of here?”

I actually stood there, purposely silent, eyeing him for several seconds with an expression I hoped conveyed my unspoken question: “Are you fucking kidding me?”

Frustrated at my lack of response, he drove off, around the bend and through the stop sign up the street. That actually was a bad move for him, as it ended up putting him in the position of having to make a left at another stop sign onto the main road north of my neighborhood, and into the long line of traffic from other drivers who had escaped the clogged highway and were looking for an alternate route.

That’s when I started laughing.

Dick.

So, hey! Don’t be one.

Spam doesn’t even try, anymore.

There used to be a time when spam, if it didn’t just offer up a link to some bullshit product, at least attempted to look like a “real” blog comment or message board post. You might’ve had to read a bit to figure out that you were dealing with mass-produced cowshit designed to entice you to follow a link down some hole.

Then, the text accompanying the links devolved a bit, as though someone fed their cat a dictionary and waited for said feline to horf up random words and phrases.

But now? What in the name of Jupiter’s uncut cock is THIS hot mess supposed to accomplish? I quote:

“cdqeakhksqupcticjydgnpzwetonlxazzuyojealmmrytdpnhsmsprngdblnneomwwbikgbww dr dre beats svgzxhfv ebyctnvqa ctpetk peiplzghj luandz jqaqhzebc qduerg tmsgivtch iwhjeh xtdioqhxy fvjkfo mtrhzynqb sdwuid dpuygtzsk ynavlq eqtozgqap krkscv rokejsgah dmexri cxldskyna ductad piwdnecym eepcmn uueovxiut tludpv dxvcfzccj iuspcq kyqtjlhjd chislz jedoqpiyp ccazsz czpzslfvn zawsdo rjzotkypr ehjthr yiqevnmce ujtunl muyhhwrja rtrtzr lawzudhoo eoeabt sixjczykg ydabhe jjmnvrhlk cqnuzm fynglokxa cvutnf aberuicmx tqcqsp muhyirsab ojgrrr rdjzamreo xkdzdx beats by dre mtgtrbfe iolsdbycn pcsqhnxazkigtia pvuhjh tlevymrkq utgrhf hdjpaqyes qerosu qhhbickut hoapuu afhjjhtog fzfeyt tmhxdrtdd ralfox psonrhtgj vktodw hbevqqqwg zlvztt tbbesfpfl tixfxp endapofsn gycotz ecjalhpuu rgbpgi rmvamdfsx wpnxjp rdxuujwrp aoidpm fdxqiqzsn oxnzhh atqmeevfk jkbxca vqfterngu zqotuw gjsbltlgx gzwwjo dugdndbia gpbyoi ktdmmpqrg rwvjef stslnokzu ndnuzm qvrhoztin qjwcti rxekixiqc smgwmg qpdvqjili eeznzn nkhpgcuel tuodry cheap beats by dre lvdpbxbd jjcmvztjw ksxtku rfleypeoo aficdm gyerzrzoj hldhxc amlhskffq uckczm xgbtipjit cheap beats by dre rrremx bjrvwpaor mnbphw khsbuxijw agnkzz dfheluvvw aeipja miszuqrmd utafmk piegkoduu vqpjou abklghuga jgfnrn hlqpvtptn dvmilr ablnwgxaa etmlfo toizybarr gqbtlw qhqirhxwa habyhd ybxqwehzf ohtbse jhqmw cheap beats by dre zsgl gwfvkh fgsxpjvjd ejxphr wyrlzyzlx zeaqxj fecasacae crzesf bfavytqee awzpph zecegtwjp casreb ldiztuwpn bnlphv hzlbbuufs sragij rqkghsybp yfcne cheap beats by dre p kszxgcxmo ekgacbkoccpl ucxj ojkfmptyd lvpf kgzyzlaze rmlq yugxxfnbc chga sjvjicrup vkdw qjoghplcx bykf bfninutdl jpay wbimxmfez kxth lotbypooe aobs zczzwthcm zfrx vmdqiafufkxolrseaffzeqzkfqbobrvsquxlvtpuqitfbqjqyqzyxx cheap beats by dre  wkwxuvjq xabkzrame plgctb kaqiektlm sodsjs onjicydtf zqzsjm ttvcjpyoo bmfgur xbcmsgzhq mapkch xaeqwyudw lhvliv xpoquykoa lulalx qlohmixnj ogyrhi pizswrugx udjgjo nqgjpgzxw vjdhpb hvyygmaug mvzwzk zhhcuogcp kajyqv lupxyqvkk epgtlx uljlfkdlr jvijyi picsrndke bnixdd xhbxkwywh xzngxd ryuxqvwzn hrfsql roymhrnir aipsys twkswborm wehkel gdnndgdms lcnlut ixictsaoy oapywo gjoowfyqg mfjfjy tysxsnvwd gieuhm rakptriek yiztet igxynrfrg ltfrem skxxuouul jqzvkd cheap beats by dre qwkmqhrf ysybtkbjq txpztgwrkjjooud vvpmsu ndlnyedfg qkmeem icmtnhrxv ygrnvp ysrfxvdqc rtctcb cjmubbqdf unurce altunrtul tqpkwz qujaebhxd hutexn gtuwztxqw emgfao pokjhztmt elcdjs mztlcoxiu qhspfs yseupudkr mvnnnu ivvvbwrnk nawwxv evagcbkkz gzapbs zzvfvgpzr xvotwa ylwufcovr qbyken bbncsdcbq bvfkos zizmknokg yhezuh gylixcqlt mwtmgh yfjjrijtf efkpbu bogugudiy dzufmj rogpiwkjt ukdykf exkbkrvda cbkbip frivjoslm jzxogg jxzsrrnfl duulbp cheap beats by dre agqiiuxp awkxslorv sqetdo yecueonom qpmghy xvflgrtqb jnpmjk vadsbxwke tcnexc gdwfycxkq cheap beats by dredwulbd pmlmrqdra nihtfp wtwabiwsz slzspy hizzdigjq ihbcwa ldlfxqqnn lwtwzs uudavyibi aywwvo othqznemt wjmqge cfawmvxoa dciraf tqeatsiku lqzgpd hlqxzkkll kwesde ylsbricrd xpgijl yvpzlxvch nxmabr wdooq cheap beats by dre dxtt iegtqy urohjqhst ewzczs qfmmfuyda coakqs lzqdveswb uqvskp yxubmdutk pxbadx rqrhbrdas hmeqxn gycbmecej nsmufh lejlkevam oxagdq kxunxcuux ltbxs cheap beats by dre t onokmnyka uogiyifddwqd jftg wvnaczgrs lceb vxtwwgyzm lgvy pternylcb cooj ouoxzusma idhb fmidclpvb uspm cdpkfiwbe ypon yyrqesito xpac moejlafda nklh qmaooisvr ldku maqiyuuwt edkm lkbj”

Don’t worry, I checked. It’s all spelled correctly. All the bolded bits are where I disabled the same link to the same site selling the same crappy headphones.

Who the hell thinks sending out crap like this actually works? Has anyone ever admitted to paying for a “service” that involves annoying the shit out of as many people as possible? It only makes me want to hunt down the dicks responsible and provide them with real, worthwhile jobs, like cleaning up peep show booths at strip clubs, or inseminating farm animals.

Dear “Beats by Dr. Dre” – Fuck you and your headphones.

“Brainwashing,” defined.

A little public service announcement.

This, contrary to what One Million Moms Six Moms With Too Much Time On Their Hands and a Shitty Website* and some other folks might think, is not brainwashing:

DC Comics’ New Gay Green Lantern & Marvel’s First Same-Sex Marriage

On the other hand, this very much is brainwashing:

Toddler Sings in Church: ‘Ain’t No Homos Gonna Make It to Heaven’

You’re welcome.

---

* = term coined by Paul Constant at The Stranger

You suck at parking.

Well, maybe not you you, but we both know somewhere, somebody out there is sucking at parking right now. We’ve all seen such dumbasses in action, from crowding the lines in a parking lot to blocking driveways or doors or even parking in such a way they take up two or more spaces so no one will scratch or bump into their precious baby.

Note: Unless you’re driving the goddamned Batmobile (the real one), or a stretch limo with its own hot tub filled with strippers, then such behavior constitutes a Dick Move, and those who do such things deserve the likes of this:

I saw something about this on Facebook earlier today. Wondering if they’d made it up on their own or it was available for us regular folks to buy for our own nefarious purposes, I went a-Googlin’ to see what was what. Lo and behold, what did I find?

You Suck At Parking

Oh. Hell. To the Yes.

One of my pet peeves is people who have no consideration for others when they’re out in public. I’ve been known to call such people on their behavior if it’s particularly egregious or just flat out unbelievable, but I confess to mellowing in that department in recent years. I’m sure having kids and trying to teach them not to be selfish and thoughtless has a lot to do with that. Whenever Michi and/or I take either or both of them with us to a store or restaurant, we always reinforce “the Rules” so far as public behavior is concerned, and Addy even points out to me whenever she sees somebody doing something stupid.

(And yeah, that happens a lot.)

Anyway, people who park like dicks is right up there so far as such antics go, so these cards are wonderful. As I said on Facebook, I should probably get about 100,000 of these. They’d last me about a week.

Who’s with me?

The proper measurement for fun? 11′ 8″.

Michi was watching a “marathon” of some show called Caught On Camera today on MSNBC. Basically, each episode is a collection of video footage captured by personal video cameras, surveillance systems, and so on, and showing shocking, offbeat, or just stupid things.

That’s right; whenever we’re bored, we take solace from watching the antics of our fellow humans.

During one segment, they profiled an area of Durham, North Carolina where a train trestle bridge crosses a busy street, with clearance for vehicle traffic passing beneath it measured at 11 feet 8″. That’s pretty low by modern standards, but back when the bridge was first built more than one hundred years ago, there were no standards for minimum height or clearance levels.

Apparently, this bridge attracts no small amount of trouble. Trucks were hitting the underside of the trestle at an alarming rate, to the point that the railroad company that uses the track and trestle installed a “crash bar” just before the bridge to prevent further damage to the structure itself. Signs are posted, both at the bridge as well as for blocks up the streets approaching it. Flashing lights which are triggered by vehicles too tall to pass under the bridge were installed.

And yet….

Durham resident Jurgen Henn owns a business overlooking the street near the intersection, and he installed video cameras to capture footage from different angles. The results are both hilarious and dumbfounding. According to him, a truck strikes the bridge (or, rather, the bar set up in front of it) on an average of once a month, inflicting varying degrees of damage to the vehicle. For reasons which will soon be obvious, the bridge has acquired the nickname “the Can Opener.”

Thankfully, our intrepid videographer has made his recordings available for our viewing pleasure at his website: 11foot8.

In a word? Awesome.

In addition to the videos offered at the website, there’s also a YouTube video feed.

Thanks very much to Mr. Henn for his efforts.

Enjoy.

Dear writers…

…whether you’re an old pro or someone just starting out, here’s a form of behavior you should avoid if you’re working to cultivate a reader base.

The idiocy starts with the author’s first comment in response to the posted review, and then proceeds to jump off the nearest cliff with a cement block tied to its nut sack.

Behold the madness!

Holy.

Shit.

If a writer’s getting this wrapped around the axle about reviews (good or bad), then that person needs to step back, take a breath, and get a damned grip. For one thing, a writer will never…NEVER…”win” any sort of confrontation like this, not in the long run. A quick check of the Googlies and intrawebs shows that people are talking about this, and not in a good way so far as the writer is concerned. Even in the off chance a writer “wins” a particular shouting match like this one, the damage to their career and reputation will be long-lasting and perhaps even irreparable.

Here’s my stance on reviews, as relayed to wookiemonster in response to his posting this link: I simply don’t get too excited one way or the other.

When it’s all said and done, I wrote a story I wanted to tell, and maybe somebody paid me for it. That’s really the only review that matters to me so far as my mortgage or kids’ school payments are concerned. Yes, it’s very satisfying to get good reviews from readers who took the time to read your story–whether they bought it or borrowed it from the library or a friend or whatever. This is particularly true when someone “gets” what you were trying to do, but even then I don’t let all those nice words and thoughts sway me into thinking everything I write is gold and that I shouldn’t keep working hard on the next story. I’ll read a thoughtful review, even if it’s one that’s unfavorable, if I think I might learn something from the exercise, but aside from that? I couldn’t care less.

When it comes to letting others read your writing, you’re never going to get everyone to like what you do. Some will find the errors and typos you missed even after proofing the thing five times. Some will just not like your writing style, or choice of subject matter, or they’ll feel you’re pushing some kind of agenda to which they take exception. It doesn’t matter…some way, somehow, you’re always going to rub at least some readers the wrong way. That’s just the way it goes. The sooner a writer accepts that, the better off he/she will be. Otherwise, they should seek another occupation.

So, anyway…writers? Don’t do this, okay?

Thanks to wookiemonster for the heads-up on this. Yowzers.