The Airing of Grievances

A Grievance From Pants Inferno

Idealistic Fever.  Catch it.

I've got a lot of problems with a few people and a general malaise for the rest of yuze.  I'd like to express that in a relatively bland opening statement before I get to my remarks, "Blindly accepting failure as norm is equivalent to not thinking."  Don't fuckin' ask me what that means!  For Fuck Sake.

There's a Utopia out there in everyone's imagination.  But in reality, your groupthink is leading us to the most heinous Dystopia.  Last decade, people would at least beat up the phrase, "think outside the box."  It was a weak attempt to get at least someone to think.  What was really fucked up about it?  THERE WAS NO BOX!

First and Worst! Anyone with a hint of marketing in their past studies or current employment, including any asshole or cunt who mentioned, even if it was only one time, the phrase, "I really like that commercial." 

Fuck you. 

I really mean it.  Fuck YOU. 

Unless I'm outside in the snow around a humongous fire with my cell phone turned off and a coozie over my can of beer, I'm being marketed at, to, through.  Eat shit for putting ads I have to remove on any video on the intertubes.  Hey Netflix!  How much did you have to pay to be automatically ignored by any pop up blocker?  You're not even a bad service.  But shitballs, believe me, popping up while I'm trying to watch some screaming anal YouPorn is not going make you any money.  Yo Hulu, you call that limited commercial interruption?  Hey Google Ads, your misinterpretation of the content of my blog continually manifests ads for Human Resources jobs and drug counseling, neither of which I, nor any of the visitors to the blog, fuckin' need! 

CIALIS!!!!!  Like Kirk bellowing at Khan.  Maybe those middle-aged married men who tired of fucking their wives a decade ago need your product, but do you think the seven-year-old kid needs to hear about it while he's trying to watch the world series with his old man?  Jeezis H. Particular Christ on a crutch.  Just flabbergasting.  When I was a kid, we had Bob Uecker making funnies with his buddies in a bar drinking beers and I know some parents who thought that was a bit much to be showing kids and young teens during NFL games.  Fire up some hard-on pills and fuck, let's over enunciate "erectile dysfunction" multiple times!  Oh wait, you already did.  What do you say to your six-year-old daughter when she asks you what ED is?  What the fuck is wrong with you people!  Why is that even an acronym.  In my day, it was whiskey dick or you're just impotent.  If it wasn't for whiskey dick, I might have some level of regret for fucking a couple beasts this year.  Thankfully, after much consumption of alcohol and THC, I'm not able to perform and believe me, I don't care how hot or huge she is.  When my John Thomas says no, I believe he's making the right decision. 

Your wife is horny and now you've got to drop a pill like she's got to go take a piss before you put your tongue within millimeters of her urethra.  How sexy.  Just lay there with your flaccid member and have her piss on your face.  What's the difference? 

HEY OBAMA and the Obamaites.  Way to be a puppet.  Way to take the bait like any other tool in your position would do.  I'll give you some change you can believe in.  How about the 59 cents they give me back when I hand over six bucks for a pack of cigarettes.  Yeah, you get into office.  What's the first thing you do?  BIG BLANKET TAX on tobacco!  Fuck you.  You're mono-issued like your predecessors.  HEALTH!  HEALTH!  HEALTH!  It's a War on Living.

Which brings me to the worst group of humans alive.  The Health Obsessed.  Yeah, I get it: you work out as much as "The Situation" because you're trying to dance with your dogs at the local dump where they crank up House music.  The only six-pack anyone wants is some unhealthy washboard abs.  Hey Situps!  It isn't healthy to have three percent body fat! 

I swear.  It's like some people have never heard Queen's "Who Wants to Live Forever?"  I think there are some of you who really do want to be immortal.  Yeah, get in on that shit at ground level.  You're Robocop with Ted Williams' head.  Fuck.  I embrace my demise.  Bring it on.  How much longer do I have to exist on this plane of idiocy.

Somewhere along the line, you stopped living.  You bleat the rhetoric mindfucked into you like you're the next in line to suck the faggot cock of Perez Hilton.  I'm not just talking about the Self-Proclaimed King of Yellow Journalism, Nicholas Bromberg.  I'm talking everyone.  Tiger Woods got laid.  Brittany Murphy is dead.  Lindsay Lohan is a quasi-lesbo cock fiend.  It's all so important and just watch the latest bimbo on E! tell it to you like it's the Apocalypse.  See the face-to-face confrontation with Romper Room News Twat Katie Couric on 60 Minutes!  DVR that shit!  Olivia Munn just wrote a book!  More people will buy that than anything written with a sense of substance.  Why?  Sex, lies and burnt DVDs.  There's no end to it.  Culture.  It's growing like bacteria under the microscope of nobody paying attention.  You're all insane and I hate you.

HEY TAX FIENDS!  I don't care what side of the aisle you launch your feces from, I've seen you motherfuckers!  From cowardly anonymous posters on small-town newspaper websites to state representatives.  You're in favor of more taxes!  Here's a novel concept.  NO TAXES!  Just ruminate on it.  Think long and hard.

I'd like to stop here to give two nicotine-stained middle fingers to Jesus freaks, towel heads and any subsidiaries of these two main retardants to any kind of societal progress.  To the multitudes and flocks, you're just stupid.  Yeah, there's a big hippie and a muslim in the sky waiting to hand out virgins and halos if you'll just bury your heads in the sand and ask forgiveness.  Quit dragging your kids to the local palace of idiocy.  Far away / Across the field / Tolling on the iron bell / Calls the imbeciles to their knees/ To hear the softly spoken magic spell.

I could go on with what I view as moronic on this planet but that could take decades, cost billions of dollars and millions of lives. 

I'll conclude briefly. 

There's one problem pervading society.  That's where you live, fucktard!  The things going on around you?  Are you even paying attention?  You're contributing to it every day on multiple levels.  You're ignoring the reality of the unrealistic world you so covet and all the bullshit in it you envy.  In the middle of all that bullshit, there lies one particular segment of society, a tool you use to get everything you could ever desire.  You know what it is and you believe in it.  You worship it.  You strive to do anything to get your hands on it.  With it, you kill time and other people.  Until we burn all that rot and the inflated egos the group subconscious of greed will overshadow anything in the world causing your inane grievances.  You can bitch until you're spinning in your grave.  I'm already half-dead and I can feel the slow revolutions of never seeing revolution.  I blame this on you.  You and all your sick Delta buddies.

Behind all of our façades lie real, thinking human beings.  People capable of abstract, maybe even enlightening perspective.  In essence, we think of ourselves as individuals.  But I only know a small band of such people.  The rest, the proletariat.  We can't kill 'em.  At least, not yet.  So, it's up to each of us to wake those motherfuckers up.  I may be talking to you.  Maybe you're a pot of coffee and ten dollars away from acting like an individual.  I don't care, as long as you wake the fuck up. 

How much longer will we live in this televised nightmare?
How many more message board threads will it take to realize you're just sitting there wasting countless hours discussing nothing?
Wake the fuck up!
Everything you believe in.  It's make believe!
That's so much more than a play on words.
Die.
No, Sterben.
Or, God Dammit, just get out there and LIVE.

Long Time, First Time Brody On The Horn

Long time reader, barely a commenter, never a poster, and now a first time grievancer.

Myself-  Get off your ass and do something!  You are nearly 40 and on the same meds as your 64 year old father.  You get winded shagging Vandelay's pop ups in whiffle, and you watch Biggest Loser while eating bowls of ice cream.

Vandelay- Stop your audacious bragging about whiffle to people who can't actually see you play.  You keep pushing your luck and my first ever youtube post will be of you and your all too superior curve ball being slammed to pavement for a HR! 

Media and Pop Culture- Really, the big story is some kid floating around in a damn balloon or Chris Henry falling out of the back of a pick up and dying?!  How many soldiers died or were wounded in combat that day?  Any of these people getting a movie of the week, but I am sure that balloon boy will be a Sunday night special sometime soon.

The Casino- So some fat bastard can't get his free buffet coupon to work so I have to get a phone call on a Saturday morning during my day off. The free breakfast isn't going to get the bank to remove the lien off this poor bastard's house so he has to take it out on me that his coupon isn't being redeemed.

The Steelers- I am sure Vandelay will have this covered, but a losing record against teams under .500 and a winning record against teams over .500.  Pittiful.

Facebook- Should be called bragbook, hey look at me I am doing this and I am doing that.  Half the shit people are doing makes it impossible to actually post on facebook at the same time, so stop lying.  And if you are having so much fun doing something then why the fuck do you stop to put it on facebook. And how come there is no nudity?! 

Burping-  Why do burps have to taste so bad no matter what you eat?  Is there any food that will actually give you good tasting burps?! 

Post Sneeze blessings-  OK so a little cliche since this topic was covered with the phrase "You're so good looking," but seriously why do we have to say anything after someone else sneezes?  I don't say anything but when my wife sneezes people give me a look like "aren't you going to say something."  Why?  Nobody says anything nice after I fart and that is a bodily function that at times, I do find tough to keep in just like a sneeze, so why say something now?

The Kardashians- So your father is Bruce Jenner therefore you get a television show.  Fine, I get it, sometimes the chics look hot and show cleavage.  But now I have to watch CSI and there is a Kardashian in the show actually trying to act.  Now we are reaching when these 'reality' people start trying to be on real shows.  Next thing you know, one of those Housewives of Whatever is going to start showing up on Two and a Half Men.

Whistling Neighbor-  This guy is one loud whistler but the worse part is he only whistles 30 seconds of a song and its the same 30 seconds over and over and over again for the entire day he is outside.  Give me the whole damn song or move on to another one for 30 seconds.

I can only hope 2010 brings some new grievances for us all and they continue to be petty!  Happy Festivus!!

Taylor Has The Floor

Oh Jeebus do I have a lotta problems with you people this year...

 

The Economy - I establish my first formal published grieve against you, American Economy! Why the last few years? Why the constant screwing of the middle class? I graduated college to look forward to this bullshit? This situation is pissing me right off. I don't care what the talking heads have to say about it, I just want whoever broke it to pay dearly for it and fix it. I'd be more coherent and focused, but I'm up to my ears in bullshit at my second grieve that you, the economy, so happily bestowed me with.

 

 

My Effing Job - Now I know, I should be thankful for having a position that I am overqualified for, underpaid at, overworked to the bone on, and a death trap to travel to 90% of the time, but I'm not. I'm fed up with micromanagement. I'm fed up with expectations that can't possibly be met. I'm sick of motherfuckers calling me when the G-D toilet needs plunged or someone puked in the fucking lobby. I worked damn hard for my degree and it sure as fuck doesn't say "Bachelors of Plumbing" on it. I make a living by listening to drug addicts problems all day, and then I get to go home to hear everyone else's problems all night. I can't watch any TV or do anything of moderate interest because I have to be up at 3:45 in the fucking morning to get to work on time! The next time someone sends me back something I have filled out because they "can't read my signature" I'm going to break someone's skull. News flash - You don't need 3 people in a supervisor capacity that don't do shit besides shit all over everyone else's work in a place that only employs 12 fucking people!

 

 

Glenn Beck, Larry King, Rachel Maddow, Keith Olberman, Nancy Grace, and anyone else who is on a "news network" and not named Jim Cramer - S.T.F.U. Please. Thanks in advance.

 

 

Colts Haters - Would you get over it? We are good, we've been good, we are going to continue being good. Peyton is the best thing that has ever happened to my sports life and I don't give a shit if he makes weird faces sometimes. We are a disciplined team that doesn't put up with bullshit from the players or anyone else within the organization. That's why we are good! You don't want to respect it? Keep using the Al Davis model and enjoy your 2-14 seasons from here to eternity for all I care.

 

 

People who give me shit because I "can't like the Red Sox and the Colts" - Go fuck yourself. I don't give a shit why you find it impossible to like 2 teams from geographic regions. I like the Red Sox because Indianapolis doesn't have a fucking baseball team asshats! I keep up with the players, I watch the games, I care about the team. Bah!

 

 

That being said, The Boston Red Sox - You guys played with a much heart and determination as Terri Schiavo this year. Jason Bay, you can promptly fuck off, along with any other of you fucks who can't get behind the idea of a team and can't get excited about winning. Its unfair to the fans when you flame out like that.

 

 

Tiger - Just play golf dude. Really. Come to the mic, say you fucked up, and get back to playing golf. Please. I don't want to pretend like I give a shit about Y.E Yang playing golf.

 

 

HWBUTS - Shitting all over one of the only things I like about the internets? Not cool!

 

 

Lindsay Lohan/Britney Spears/Whoever Else - Get over it and do porn already. Its the the last bastion.

 

 

Lady Gaga - FUCKING. STOP. IT.

 

 

Facebook - I grieve because I care. I remember when it was a neat little thing that you could use to keep in touch with people across campus or in your classes in college. No, I don't want to see your 398 pictures of your new baby. Its ugly. No, I don't care that you are "PaRtYiNg" tonight (as a matter of fact people who use capitalization like that can jump into a huge pit of used needles from my clinic). NO, I don't care that "life is only beautiful if you look on the inside of blahblahblah you're sad and I'm supposed to ask you whats the matter. I dooooo nooooot care! Give me back my neat little website that I could check to see if the girl in my history 150 class was enough of a slut to continue sitting next to all year. Thank you.

 

 

...Ok Grievers, I've spent enough company time here. Back to my endless amounts of work. Now that the negatives are out, focus on the positives for the rest of the year yea? Before the mound of shit that is sure to be 2010 begins. Hug your kids and tip your waitresses!

I'm Surprised That I Even Remembered My Password

I can never remember my grievances when it's time to grieve. Story of my life. I'm just disinterested. In everything. So I'm going to mail this one in, as usual.

I guess I have to grieve against myself, as I've neglected both this blog and my own blog and other blogs and Meat Gayzer comic strips and just about everything that took some effort because I just could not find the will to do it. I have ideas for blog posts, but they would require me to do work. And fuck work. Work is best left to the Mexicans.

I've been planning on making a grievance rap for at least three years now and never come through. I either start too late to find an opportunity to record it or just plain don't start early enough to think of a rhyme for "HOW THE FUCK DO YOU GET PREGNANT THREE FUCKING TIMES WHILE ON BIRTH CONTROL FROM DUDES YOU'VE KNOWN LESS THAN A FUCKING MONTH YOU FUCKING WHORE?!?!??!?!?!?!!?!?". God damn it. If you say you are going to come down here, then all I ask is that you go three months without getting knocked up. I guess that's why you just leave ex-es alone. The only thing that they are good for is blowing the dude with coke so that you don't have to yourself.

Also, to the ladies that get all offended or taken aback or shocked or whatever when I ask them if they want to touch my balls or not...fuck yinz. It's not 1958. If I'm talking to you at all and you are a woman that weighs less than me with a pulse and a redeeming feature...don't pretend to be so naive that you don't think I want to do you. That's all I want to do, probably. I want to have intercourse with you. Keep that in mind from the start. I'm not doing carbombs because it's good for conversation. Nice tits.

I don't know what else to grieve about. I already hate work, but so does everyone else. I've been here for almost three years...I know that it's hot. I know that there are 20 million people here and most of them speak Creole. I know that Gunpowder Jones isn't a big-time rapper yet and likely won't be in the future. I hate just about all people, but that isn't new. I don't know. I hate when athletes point up at the sky after a touchdown like Jesus cares, but that isn't new either. Maybe I'll slam my mouse down after sending an email out and point upwards. That will show Tim Tebow.

I do want to grieve about how some people grieve. Should I grieve about x, or should I maybe grieve about y, or should I just...you know what? I don't care what you grieve about for Festivus on a fucking blog. It's your life, dude. Write more than one paragraph. Use punctuation. Separate different thoughts with commas and all that jazz. I don't care. I also hate being forced to grieve. If I have an idea, I can write about it. If not, I come up with blithering tripe like this. I'm actually complaining about watching people pre-grieve. Yes...this is the life.

I hate many, many things. The problem is that I don't remember them until I actually find myself hating them.

Joe Has A Grievance or Two

(Joe from Maine has some grievances he'd like to share)

Festivus 2009.

I got a lot of problems with...

1. Stalling Republicans who were elected by their constituents to DO SOMETHING to help the country, and yet for the past 11 months have done nothing but obstruct progress on anything and everything.
2. Sell-out Democrats who would rather line their pockets than DO SOMETHING to help the country.
3. Sarah Palin.  You're a quitter on Twitter. And a knucklehead.  Please shut up.
4. People in the big cities who use a friggin lawn chair and a milk crate to ‘save’ their parking space after a big snowstorm.  C’mon...it’s a lawn chair and a milk crate.  When does a lawn chair and milk crate = a car?  Can I take a lawn chair and a milk crate to the local car dealer and trade it in for a new Subaru?  Hmmm...wait, I should try that one.  (PS - Full disclosure: I live in Maine and nobody uses the chair/crate place holder...but for 12+ years I lived in Philly and witnessed this. Friends still in Philly sent pics to me this weekend of the placeholders being used after last weekends 23 inch snowstorm)
5. Candy companies who continue to shrink the size of their product while charging more for it. Have you noticed how much smaller candy bars and lollipops have gotten?  What the hell, candymakers?  You think you’re saving money by charging more while selling less, but hey....I’m Out!  I want my gigantic DumDums back
6. HewlettPackard and Microsoft.  You both suck.  Fourteen months after buying a new HP laptop, it crashed. Hard. Wicked hard. Beyond saving, unless I wanted to shell out $500 to get it fixed.  Fuck you, HP with Microsoft Vista operating system. I instead put that $500 towards a Mac. And I have no regrets about dumping my reliance on HP or Microsoft. And customer service for both of you suck.
7. Budweiser products.  How can your garbage beer be #1 in America?

Other than those listed above, I hope you all have a wicked awesome holiday and new year.

Now on to the feats of strength.  I’ll start by lifting a 22oz beer.  Can anybody beat that?

A Grievance From Overseas

(The French Guy has a list of stuff to grieve about from overseas. Zut alors.)

I've got a problem with you people :

All those morons who go to the Champs Elysees the Saturday evening before Christmas and complain how crowded it is. "Sure it was nice, but there were too many people".  It's already packed with tourists all year round, add Christmas decorations, lightings and market with wooden huts and even Parisians go there, to the point you may have to walk on the actual road. What the fuck did you expect?

Those "if there really is global warming, how come it's so cold now ?" joke/newspaper cartoons/quips. Sigh.

I don't care what your poll/research says, I'm not an alcoholic because I drink more than 2 glasses on 3+ nights a month.

All those poseurs in Paris with Obama's Change tshirts/posters. Loathing Bush is one thing. Pretending that Obama will change your life is another. Firstly, you didn't vote for him because you couldn't and didn't volunteer for him either. Secondly, I'm sure his battle with Congress to change social security/HMO/Medicare will have a deep impact on your everyday life (if you even know what Medicare is). Finally, don't you dare try to end any argument with "He won the fucking Nobel Peace Prize".

Most people on airplanes/airports. The one with 15 different coins in his pocket and a 200-g silver buckle belt who still goes through the metal detector gates. The one with an expensive perfume bottle who for 5 min begs the guard not to throw it away. The business guy who shows up with a brief case, computer case and a small suitcase and complains that the overhead compartment is full (it's because there are 50 other people like you in the plane). The one who's up in the aisle with his luggage two seconds after the plane has landed (we're the next-to-last row, we won't get out before 10 mintutes minimum, may I keep reading or listening to my Ipod without you trying to go over me ?). I hate you all.

Festivus Cherry Poppin' Time for Bethany

(Long timer Bethany accepts the invite and takes a stab at a Grievance.)

My first festivus, you asked for it!

It was suggested that I might have a little something to say about being knocked up for the last two years.  Actually, it’s been the last three, but the first time was an epic fail.  So, I’ve basically been knocked up almost constantly since mid-2007.  Fun times, I assure you.

Some things about it are good—everyone is nice to you when you’re pregnant…that is once you get past the point of merely looking fat, because then you just get glared at when you get the double order of fries extra crispy or you ask the waitress for more bread.  I must give off the “don’t touch my fucking belly” vibe, because that’s never really been a problem with strangers.  What creeps me out is how many strangers feel the need to know what I’m doing with my tittays.  Literally one of the first questions I am routinely asked is, “are you going to breastfeed?,” like that’s something the woman making my iced coffee needs to know in order to get on with her day.  Creepier yet are the times when you have your baby with you and someone you don’t know tells you that if you need to feed the baby in their presence, it’s okay.  Thanks—it makes me feel so much better knowing you’re going to be staring at my mammaries through the process.

I hate that I’ve become one of those women, the ones I mocked for so many years.  I’d be hanging out with the guys talking sports and generally avoiding anything to do with children and women and the mommies at the party would be talking about baby stuff.  I swore that would never be me, that I’d always be one of the guys, but then something happened and I got pregnant, and then pregnant again, and then pregnant again and something went haywire in my brain.   I swear, as soon as I pop out this kiddo, and can drink and socialize, I will return and one of those other mommies can watch my kids while I hang.

As for drinking, I’m always surprised after each go round how much I can still drink.  WTF?  I figured such a long, dry duration would make me a cheap date, but that seems to last for about one day.

But this rant can’t just be about babies.  There’s other shit that pisses me off.

DirecTV.  They own me.  Despite Vandelay’s assurance that if I called and threatened to cancel if they didn’t give me the Superfan HD package for free with the football ticket—even though they already rape me for the HD signal and box each month, they wouldn’t.  They basically told me to go scratch and that they know my need to see the Bears each week while in

New York

(and all the games to track my fantasy teams) means that I will never leave them…I guess Vandelay has a better phone voice than I do.  Instead, once a year, they give me free Showtime—one month for each year I’ve been a customer.  I’m up to 5 months free—too bad Showtime sucks—and I’ve heard some shows are good but no, I’m not going to let myself watch Dexter or anything else that might cause me to need to pay DirecTV one more dime per month.  Motherfuckers.

Old Navy.  Hey, Old Navy, thanks for not calling to tell me that due to an error in online banking I overpaid you by over $2,600.00 earlier this month.  I appreciate the assumption that I just wanted to have a huge credit I didn’t know about because I have just that much money that I’d like to start paying ahead for my future purchases.  Thanks for being so great Old Navy customer service, that when I discover the error the week before Christmas, you tell me that it will take 30 days to refund my money because it needs to be verified because the overpayment was so large.  Really?  Because I’m looking at the electronic transfer and can see how my checking account balance dropped like a fucking rock on December 4^th.  Did it occur to you that, given the holidays and all, you might want to call and mention the problem, because it was probably a mistake?  Shit, if my payment was 2 weeks late you’d sure as fuck call me.  But, really, it’s no problem.  I’ve only been a customer as long as you’ve existed.  It’s okay though because I’ve only been buying maternity clothes from you and I’m done having kids, so I can proceed to shred my Old Navy card, as I’m never giving you douchenozzles another dime.

The Bears.  How do the Bears pick up a franchise quarterback and manage to have a worse record this year?  They were 9-7 with Orton and Grossman last year…and are already guaranteed a worse outcome with Cutler.  Shit, we will be lucky if the woeful Lions don’t finish our season by kicking our ass at Ford Field.  I rarely blame the coaches, but I’ve really got to attribute a lot of this to Ron Turner, who is incapable of calling plays to the strengths of the team on the field, and Lovey Smith who never shows any reaction to the disaster on the field in front of him.  And to think, I wanted to make this kid’s middle name Ditka…Bears gotta earn that first.

Fantasy football.  Actually, I have nothing but love for fantasy football, except for my 7 game losing streak death spriral.  I’ve also been addicted to my league on officefootballpool.com this year; one of the few baby unrelated things I make time for these days.  And props to the idea I stole from you grievers—I flew my husband to his fantasy football draft in Michigan this year, and a good time was had by all; a better time would have been had by me if he’d taken our kid and I weren’t knocked up, but he had a blast.

Scrabble on Facebook.  Fuck Vandelay’s smart friends who always beat me and now think I’m too much of a dumbass to let me play anymore.

This guy. 

I drive by your business every day.  I don’t know you, but I don’t like you. I didn’t know redneck was a lifestyle; I don’t want to know what the lifestyle entails, but I have a feeling you wear Wrangler jeans.

People that say “we’re pregnant”.  No.  She’s pregnant and you’re a douchebag.

Thanks for including me grievers!

Johnny Has A Beef

I got a LOT of problems with you people! I got some things on my chest I have to get off. Let's start.

 

Grievances:

 

People and the back windows of their cars – Let's start light. I fucking hate that people think I give a shit about what they have decaled all over their cars. The biggest, lamest and most effusive example is the “family” decals. Have you folks seen this shit? There's a mom, dad, 3 kids, 2 dogs, a cat, and a partridge in a pear tree just plastered all over it. You people think I give half a rat's ass about your nuclear family? Fuck yourselves sideways. All you just did was give me an accurate body count.

 

People who don't use turn signals – Railed on before. Railed on again. If you intend to switch lanes, FUCKING alert me. I drive a lifted Jeep with a momentum problem. It does me no fucking good to watch you slow to a creep and gingerly change lanes when I'm doing the speed limit. For fuck's sake, there are other people with places to go to. You're going food shopping and need to get into that middle lane? Fine. Use your blinker, fuckhead. Or else I'm putting you into the median and into heaven early.

 

ShamWow/SlapChop Guy – The greatest news of the year by far was Vince, the ShamWow fucktard, getting his tongue bitten off by a prostitute. I wish that this was turned into a musical! Think about it. Wouldn't you see it? I sure as fuck would. Fuck the dumb shit. I just want New York street hustlers to sell a t-shirt with his picture all over it. I want children's books to be written about it. I want him ordained as the patron saint of fuckedupedness. This couldn't miss. At the very least, classes should be taught about the dynamics of when to pay and when to snort the coke off her ass. Am I right? This man is the beacon of hope for the rest of the world.

 

Arizona bar laws – Little known fact: Arizona doesn't allow more than 4 alcoholic drinks to be in front of one person at any given time. This just cunts up my night of debauchery. Instead of being able to double fist Long Island Iced Teas and not subject myself to waiting behind the displaced Scottsdale shithead flavor of the Jersey Shore boys trying to “out-brah” themselves, I have to meekly request a single and finish it completely before getting another. This is not a safe way to kill my liver. You might as well have the AA meeting next door.

 

The Cactus Moon – A particular bar here in Tucson that merits its own GFY. This place actually decided that a state ID is NOT good enough for valid entry. You need a 2^nd form of ID along with a state ID to be allowed to pay cover and imbibe. What the fuck, over? Oh, a LICENSE is fine. But God forfuckingbid a member of the party elected to not yet drive, but can prove legal age with a STATE ISSUED ID. I guess we need to take a piss into the wind then. What happened was this: one night this place allowed myself and another individual in, took our cover, took our money for the first beer, and THEN stiffed some of our friends at the door. Thanks for the heads up you cocksucking assholes.

 

Comcast – This is worst cable service in America. For basic 70 channel cable and internet, I'm told I'd need to pay nearly $130!! This is borderline robbery. None of what's on TV is that important. It's a fucking travesty that the price of watching such sour shit on a day-to-day basis has this price tag attached to it. It's like paying admission to watch you kick yourself in the dick. Not having it. I'll get by with the manageable, yet still outrageous, internet only price of $69 and watch what I want for free on the net. That is until you pry that enterprise from Al Gore's cold dead hands.

 

StubHub, Ticketmaster, LiveNation – Can we just call this shit the “Legal Scapling Agency” and be done with it? You convenience no one by making “semi-affordable” tickets “astronomically overfuckingpriced.” Take a splintered 2 x 4 and jam it in your collective asses. I'd rather give a bit more money to the guy with a family who's hocking his wares outside a stadium then concede to you faceless bastards.

 

Miley Cyrus – I'll just say what everyone else is thinking: when is your sex tape coming out? Seriously. You've already released tweeny self pics and a pole dance that would make Synnamon blush. So are you gunna hurry up and act all Traci Lords or actually wait until you're legal to do it? Don't even front with that Disney shit either. Vanessa Hudgens gets down with dick and she sang and danced her way through high school. And that father of yours is going to try his damndest to keeping himself relevant in any way he can. Call R. Kelly so he can make you believe you can fly.

 

The Jonas Brothers – Or as I call them: Hanson with darker hair. They are selling bullshit to a crowd of tweens. The parents and Top 40 radio assholes eat them up. They are a fucking charade. Take that promise ring shit and devirginize yourselves with it. You don't fool me one fucking bit. Another group of posterchildren hiding behind the hypocritical Disney flag. Nothing about anything of these phony shartstains is even close to reality. Eat shit. All of you.

 

Lady Gaga – Can we really call her “lady” when she's a hermaphrodite? This bitch looks like a ball of pus rolled in glitter and donned with gaudy glasses and a wig. She's the Mr. Potatohead of pop music. The outlandish clothing. The ridiculous attitude. The punchable persona. All of it needs to burn to death in a dumpster fire in Zimbabwe. This is the most useless automaton who's ever pilfered the stupid people of this country. Good on shim for that, but die. Just die.

 

Spencer/Heidi – These shitheads are the pinnacle and benchmark for involuntary euthanizings. In no way shape of form do these scumbags deserve attention or reverence. The fact I know their names is like lye on my soul. I don't even watch TV, ffs! All I want to do is be the triggerman. Please oh please oh please...can I? I can make the world a much better place by taking these cuntrags out of it.

 

Lil Wayne, T-Pain, and the AutoTuner – These scholars put a nail in hip-hop. All of them. Lil Wayne pretends he knows how to rap. T-Pain pretends he can sing. And both digitize their voices with the most overused and detestable pieces of equipment – the AutoTuner. When the hip-hop and Top 40 stations play the same music and half of it is from either of these shitheads, you know something is wrong. I'm fed up with the trite, regurgitated nothingness of both of these schmucks. They prove to be the gum stuck to the bottom of hip-hop's shoe. But yet the mass populus continues to go back to this dried well. The fucking clowns need no more press. It's herpes in my ears.

 

Kim K and her fucking family – Oh my Christ can the madness end? Please America. Please. I wish I could ask these assholes one question: “Do you know why you're famous?” And when I get the dumb stare, I want to say this: “Kim, you large-assed whore. You fucked Brandy's brother on camera. Think about that. THAT is why you are famous.” The American public has found a soft spot for large-assed Persian hookers like you. She became the Mother Theresa of fat assed broads getting famous quick. Then she dragged those god-awful siblings and mother into it too. They're all living off of sex tape fame and a well known former OJ lawyer's last name. That's it. When do I become famous? Seriously. It's batshit insane. I don't want to 'keep up' with them. I don't want to know they exist. I don't care one got married and the other had a kid. It's a fucking waste. This country is going to hell in a handbasket fast. When the goings on of other non-important human beings becomes the market, it's over. I give up. I'll just drink my own blood and wait for the sun to explode.

 

And that's that folks. Enjoy the Festivus

A Grievance from the Great White North

(Per Vandelay's request, wealthy Industrialist H.E. Pennypacker sends us his warmest grievances)

Fellow AofGers:

Vandelay suggested that I write something about the Canadian educational system. Seeing as how education is a provincial matter and the phrase "Canadian educational system" doesn't really make sense, I'll just rail against the federal government in its entirety.

Canada has a reputation for being a meek little peace-maker on the international scene. Nobody burns our flags, nobody sets fire to effigies of our leaders in the streets in foreign capitals, and
everybody wants to wear our flag on their backpack when they travel.

Enter Copenhagen and the climate summit.

See, once upon a time, we did the environmental thing. We signed on the Kyoto dotted line, and we were starting to make some inroads. We had a Liberal government (and a slightly-incomprehensible, yet also slightly-loveable Prime Minister), which was largely elected by people
in eastern Canada, where people sit in circles and sing Kumbaya and generally have brains in their heads.

Then, Stephen Harper happened.

Harper, the leader of the Conservative party, became Prime Minster in 2005. The Conservatives draw their power from western Canada, which is well-known for being, well, not the most progressive part of the country (think "American south" minus some of the guns, most of the racism, and nearly all the love for NASCAR). There's also a little bit in there about minority Parliaments, threats of coalitions and
something called "proroguing," but that's for another day.

...flash forward to modern times. Harper and his Conservative dicktrees are in charge up here, and boy-oh-boy do they like the Alberta Tar Sands: basically crude oil mixed in with dirt and rock and
stuff, which you have to blast away to get at the Texas Tea locked inside. Problem is, the oil you get from this is (a.) low-quality, (b.) energy-intensive to actually acquire, and (c.) leaves a gigantic
environmental impact; some groups all around the world have referred to the Tar Sands project as the biggest environmental clusterfuck (I'm paraphrasing, but only slightly) in the world today.

But my-oh-my do these Tar Sands bring in the bucks for Alberta (the province Harper works out of, and draws a ton of support from). The streets are paved with gold in Fort McMurray these days, and even
though oil's taken a bit of a dip lately, it's only a matter of time before it'll be triple-digits again and the Tar Sands projects get expanded yet again.

So, here we are, on the cusp of the entire environment of the planet going tits-up, and Harper & Co. are only too happy to fluff the Tar Sands projects until they develop carpal tunnel syndrome because it
keeps Alberta solvent. Finally, the world is starting to (rightly) get pissed-off at Canada -- not only for the Tar Sands fiasco, but because the Conservatives have basically flipped off the environment for the
last four years and the Liberals (in opposition) have been too chickenshit/disorganized to do anything meaningful about it.

The Yes Men, a group of anticonsumption pranksters, burned the Harper government good a few days ago. They put out a fake-but-realistic press release under the name of our Environment Minister, Jim
Prentice, saying we were gonna get all hardcore on these greenhouse gases. Then they put out a fake response from Uganda saying, "Fuck yeah, Canada! We love you!", and even a fake article in the European edition of the Wall Street Journal. Read all about it here:
http://www.guardian.co.uk/environment/blog/2009/dec/14/environment-canada-spoof

The next day, Prentice was forced to come out with the Conservatives' plan, which was underwhelming to say the least, and everyone was all, "Hey, asshole, we liked the fake one better!" Needless to say,
Prentice was not happy with all this fakery -- but not as displeased as, say, the rest of the goddamn world because a lot of the Conservatives up here are Bible-thumping Jesus-freaks who think the
Rapture is upon us any day so why plan for the future and besides the world's only 6000 years old and dinosaurs were planted to test our faith so let's rip up the Tar Sands and have a big oily party!

Fucking Conservatives.

Kenny Bania Has Some Grievance Gold

(Long time Griever Kenny Bania chimes in with a hangover. Assuredly it'll be gold...)

Coworkers - Most of you suck.  Here's a few notes to jot down.  If I've never bitched heavily about another coworker to you, then I complain about you to someone else.  I accepted your facebook friend request to not be a dick.  Can you read my wall or look at more than one picture?  Yeah.  That's a hint.  Take it.  I thought eating at my desk with my headphones on instead of in the break room would have done the trick, but apparently you're all stupid.  No, I will not be participating in any luncheons.  I'm here for a paycheck.  Kindly fuck off.

Abbreviations in Texting - Why?  There's a thing called T9, or predictive text.  A lot of you also have keyboards.  Don't write anything with numbers.  It's lame.  You're grown, and you communicate like a teenage girl.  I'm not asking for proper punctuation or grammar, but I want you to die if you send things like "2day, l8r, thanx, etc."  Moron.

Graphic Shirts - Your shirt is stupid.  Nice dragon on your button down.  That's real classy with an edge to it.  You're in your 30's.  Fucking grow up.

Twitter - You've deteriorated communication down to the equivalent of a kid pointing at the sky and saying "Airplane!"  I wonder what Ashton Kutcher is thinking?  "2day the world lost a little piece of sunshine. My deepest condolences go out 2 Brittany’s family, her husband, & her amazing mother Sharon."  No.... no I don't wonder what Ashton Kutcher is thinking.