WARNING: If easily offended, go read your cereal box or go make a fuss about a damn Starbuck's cup. But read no further here.
First of all, please know that in spite of the tone of this post, I really love and am proud of my hometown for its historical significance, my family ties, and for the memories it has given me. I am NOT proud of what it has done to center city's shopping district, not one little bit.
A few people posted "Things to Do in Philadelphia for Christmas". Well it suggests the "macy's" Light Show and the Comcast light show, the ice rinks at City Hall and the riverfront, the lights across the streets in South Philly, Peddler's Village and Longwood Gardens among a few other minor attractions. We'll just pretend someone knew how to move Longwood Gardens and Peddler's Village into Philadelphia. What the hell brand of yuppie induced insanity is this?? Are you all drinking this kool-aid???
When I was a kid, Christmas in Philly was REAL. There really WERE many things to see and experience. I'm talking mid 60s - early 70s here. You could get on the bus and go to town, take the subway, buses, or whatever and not worry about getting mugged or having to be armed.
I remember Mom taking me to center city in the early 60s to see the stores all decked out for Christmas, and it wasn't till AFTER Thanksgiving that they were decorated. It would be a full day, and we thought it very exciting to take the "trolley that goes into the tunnel" to get there. I remember Angela *my paternal grandmother* taking me to Wanamakers every year to buy new clothes to add to what she made for me herself. She would wear her mink coat and we would take a taxi. Some overbearing young bimbo there once asked her why she had the nerve to wear mink. My grandmother told her "Lady, please go fuck yourself." Yes, verbatim. At least she said "please".
For me it was walking to 65th and Elmwood, taking the 36 Trolley to 13th St. or from South Philly, take the 17 bus to 13th. From there, I'd go into Wanamaker's, shop a little, see the REAL Light Show with the dancing water fountains synchronized with the music of Tchaikovsky's Nutcracker. Then walk down the south side of Market, stop in Lerner's on 12th, down to Dial Shoes, Marianne Shop, the Hallmark store, go to the Post Office to get Christmas stamps, go into Gimbels, shop, then cross the street at 8th. From there, into Lits, look in the bargain basement, then cross and go to my favorite. The Queen of Department Stores in my heart will always be Strawbridge & Clothier. There, I'd shop more, maybe have lunch, go to the York Shop, and if I hadn't eaten in Strawbridges, stop at Horn and Hardart. I might or might not go to Hanscoms, go to more shoe stores, then head back up to the subway station with arms full of packages, and STILL not worry about getting mugged. It was a full, happy day in an easy, happy time. I'm sure I'm not the only one who can recall doing the very same thing. How many of you can remember the complete layout of Strawbridges and still "see" it in your mind's eye? I can picture every floor, and still tell you where everything was.
Fast forward to the 80s... well you could still do some of the above, but you have to be willing to walk through the pickpocket filled, crime ridden, awful "Gallery". Filthy except for the first 6 or so months after it opened. Strawbridges was its anchor, and was the only store worth anything except for when the JC Penney anchored the other end. But still a far cry from decent if you ask me. And it deteriorated very quickly. And don't go near there during the holidays if you wanted to leave with everything with which you entered, for roving bands of little bastards were looking for idiots who don't watch the surroundings to let down the guard for even a second.
In the 90s the Gallery was bad enough that some little criminal son of a bitch tried to steal my work cellphone right out of my pocket on the escalator between the bottom and street levels. I felt his hand go into my pocket. I was armed, but the escalator wouldn't have been a good place for a shooting. So I not so politely told him if he didn't get the f**k away from me I would kick his f**king little white-trash thug animal ASS down the escalator. I believe I also told him I'd kick his mother, too. He complied and lived to steal another day.
Fast forward to today. Well, who would get on the 36 Trolley now? Well not me. So however you get to town, there is no more Wanamakers. There is a "macy's" which can't hold a candle to Wanamakers, or any other Macy's for that matter. It's a piss poor excuse for a department store.
There is no more Lerner's. There is no more Marianne's. There is no more Dial Shoes. In fact, the whole block *once Snellenburg's, before my time* is gone. There is no more Gimbels. There is no more Lits. There is, sadly, no more Strawbridges, and now even the filthy disgusting Gallery is closed. Of course there is no Horn and Hardart, and no more Hanscoms.
Market East is dead, unless you want to go down to 6th to the Historic district, and down further to the yuppie part of town that boasts overpriced restaurants and no parking.
Sorry but the memories are all that live on for me when you say "Center City Philadelphia".
I wish all of you had the same memories of the 60s and 70s. I'm sure some of you have even better memories of it from the 40s and 50s. I wish I could have seen it then. Take it from me, it was a wonderful, magical place.
So... rant over *for now*.
Thursday, November 12, 2015
Wednesday, August 19, 2015
OK Here Goes Nothing... The College/Parent Rant.
OK buckle up, cupcake. If you are a kollege gradjiate or parent, and are easily insulted or offended, STOP READING THIS - RIGHT NOW, THIS MINUTE. There is no gentleness or political correctness in this post.
I never went to college. I never became a parent. However, this does NOT mean that I am an idiot.
I am sick to death of listening to puffed up little weenie bastards with the letters after their names talking DOWN to me. I was employed at 17, and held the same job till I retired at 55. My mommy or daddy didn't get my job FOR me. I got it on my own, pounding the pavement.
Once I got it, my job demanded logic, good and quick decision making skills, and accuracy to the letter of the law. I did it well, and was tasked with teaching it, and supervising the formation of fugitive task forces in different parts of the country.
I could not have learned any of my job skills from a book since every case and every single operation was different. There was no textbook that could give one the ability to do the job I did. I learned it by watching, listening, and then from experience. I was proud of my job, and you may be proud of your friggin' letters after your name, fine. Just STOP treating me like I'm a doddering old fool just because I diddent goes ta kolledge.
Some of the college students we got as interns, as well as some I've met, couldn't string two sentences together or write a chronologically correct paragraph. And grammar and spelling... forget it! You would be appalled, believe me. "Lose" is NOT "Loose". "Their", "There" and "They're" are NOT all the same. "Your" and "You're" aren't the same either. Yes, really.
You egotistical, self centered little shits just make me sick. And some of the parents now make it worse - your kid might be the center of YOUR universe, but he or she is not the center of THE universe. If you raise him or her to believe that, you are doing them a gross disservice.
A kid has to learn to get along with other kids, know not to push someone off a stool, but instead to HELP THEM UP. Teach them right from wrong at HOME. The teachers at the schools don't need to try to make time to do the parents job. Teach them to behave in public, and in a group setting. They need to learn that trophies and awards are given for winning, not participating. They need to learn to lose gracefully and win gracefully. They need discipline, structure, and a little freedom to fall down and get up again ON THEIR OWN. They need to have enough of a mind NOT TO DEPEND on Mommy for every thought in their heads. Have a kid who's capable of making a simple decision on their own, without hovering over them every second. That's called independence, dummies.
If you are depending on Mommy to think for you, and you don't have your OWN independent thoughts, you'd better get them soon, because guess what, your Mommy isn't going to be around forever. You may just have to GROW THE F**K UP. So don't waste time, do it NOW.
Now those of you who are parents are thinking, "she doesn't have kids, what does SHE know". Which brings me to the second part of the rant. You dumb bastard, I may not have a kid, but I used to BE ONE. I know my parents forged my path, but then were wise enough to let me WALK it on my own. I made a few bad decisions, and learned a lot from them. I didn't get everything I wanted, but I got everything I needed. I learned that things weren't given to you as a young adult - you had to EARN them on your own. As I did - and as a result, those possessions meant everything to me, because I had earned or paid for them myself.
I know I'm doing a little name calling here, and if you don't like it, tough shit. You just might be one of the ones who think I'm an ignorant moron. Guess what, Eff you.
If you're offended, too damn bad. You were warned.
I never went to college. I never became a parent. However, this does NOT mean that I am an idiot.
I am sick to death of listening to puffed up little weenie bastards with the letters after their names talking DOWN to me. I was employed at 17, and held the same job till I retired at 55. My mommy or daddy didn't get my job FOR me. I got it on my own, pounding the pavement.
Once I got it, my job demanded logic, good and quick decision making skills, and accuracy to the letter of the law. I did it well, and was tasked with teaching it, and supervising the formation of fugitive task forces in different parts of the country.
I could not have learned any of my job skills from a book since every case and every single operation was different. There was no textbook that could give one the ability to do the job I did. I learned it by watching, listening, and then from experience. I was proud of my job, and you may be proud of your friggin' letters after your name, fine. Just STOP treating me like I'm a doddering old fool just because I diddent goes ta kolledge.
Some of the college students we got as interns, as well as some I've met, couldn't string two sentences together or write a chronologically correct paragraph. And grammar and spelling... forget it! You would be appalled, believe me. "Lose" is NOT "Loose". "Their", "There" and "They're" are NOT all the same. "Your" and "You're" aren't the same either. Yes, really.
You egotistical, self centered little shits just make me sick. And some of the parents now make it worse - your kid might be the center of YOUR universe, but he or she is not the center of THE universe. If you raise him or her to believe that, you are doing them a gross disservice.
A kid has to learn to get along with other kids, know not to push someone off a stool, but instead to HELP THEM UP. Teach them right from wrong at HOME. The teachers at the schools don't need to try to make time to do the parents job. Teach them to behave in public, and in a group setting. They need to learn that trophies and awards are given for winning, not participating. They need to learn to lose gracefully and win gracefully. They need discipline, structure, and a little freedom to fall down and get up again ON THEIR OWN. They need to have enough of a mind NOT TO DEPEND on Mommy for every thought in their heads. Have a kid who's capable of making a simple decision on their own, without hovering over them every second. That's called independence, dummies.
If you are depending on Mommy to think for you, and you don't have your OWN independent thoughts, you'd better get them soon, because guess what, your Mommy isn't going to be around forever. You may just have to GROW THE F**K UP. So don't waste time, do it NOW.
Now those of you who are parents are thinking, "she doesn't have kids, what does SHE know". Which brings me to the second part of the rant. You dumb bastard, I may not have a kid, but I used to BE ONE. I know my parents forged my path, but then were wise enough to let me WALK it on my own. I made a few bad decisions, and learned a lot from them. I didn't get everything I wanted, but I got everything I needed. I learned that things weren't given to you as a young adult - you had to EARN them on your own. As I did - and as a result, those possessions meant everything to me, because I had earned or paid for them myself.
I know I'm doing a little name calling here, and if you don't like it, tough shit. You just might be one of the ones who think I'm an ignorant moron. Guess what, Eff you.
If you're offended, too damn bad. You were warned.
Monday, July 20, 2015
The 46th Anniversary of the Landing of Apollo 11.... and a love letter to NASA
Dear NASA,
It doesn't seem possible, but 46 years ago today, July 20, 1969, Apollo 11 landed on the Moon. I have always been a huge fan of NASA and the US Space Program, a true Space Nerd and Junkie.
At my home on Woodstock St., I sat on the floor, glued to the fuzzy black and white images of Neil Armstrong setting foot on the moon, leaving a footprint in what looked like flour. Remembering that first picture of Earth taken from the Moon, imagining what Michael Collins (the 3rd astronaut orbiting the Moon) must be feeling as his two colleagues hopped around on the Moon like a couple of 4 year old kids. It couldn't possibly be 46 years ago!
I watched the Space Program from its blurry start, from the launch of Alan Shepard, to John Glenn, and every launch of Gemini and Apollo. Always wanted to be an astronomer, but couldn't get good enough at math to ever do it, so I became a worshipper from afar. My bucket list began then, the first entry being that someday I WOULD see a launch in person.
I remember the fear as the astronauts of Apollo 13 faced the danger of not ever coming home - no one probably knows I actually lost sleep over it. I remember the ingenuity and genius of those who fixed the problem from the ground, as well as the work of James Lovell (I have his autograph on his book!) and his fellow astronauts. I watched countless launches, countless landings, and remember very clearly being in my office on January 28, 1986 when we lost Challenger and her crew. It's not easy to do your job and fight the urge to cry. Followed the news closely when on February 1, 2003 the shuttle Columbia broke up in reentry. I always thought it inconceivable that a spacecraft made to withstand the force of launch could have tiles on it and insulation which seemed so fragile. I still believe to this day that those astronauts KNEW they weren't going to make it. I know those astronauts, and those of Challenger, and the three heroes of Apollo 1 (Chaffee, Grissom, White) have "fled the surly bonds of earth to touch the face of God". **see note
I thank the fearless men and women of NASA - the astronauts, and the crews of the Space centers monitoring every move and making the journeys possible.
Arguments with those who thought (or think) that the Space Program is a waste: Heard 'em all. I have the best answer now... without them you wouldn't be reading this. You wouldn't have your nice little gadgets that you take for granted everyday. You wouldn't have your 300 channels of cable, or your satellite tv or radio (what, no Sirius??), CAT scans, MRIs, space blankets, computer mouse, cordless tools, firefighter gear, solar panels, memory foam, UV blocking glass or sunglasses, the list goes on and on.
And I finally DID get to see a live space launch - the last liftoff of the shuttle program, the Shuttle Atlantis - on July 8, 2011 - one of the most thrilling moments ever.
But I digress (as I often do). THANK YOU, NASA for making life easier, and giving me so much to see, read, and love. You helped me understand how insignificant we are in the face of an immense and infinite universe. Thanks for the Hubble telescope, and its thrilling, awesome pictures. Thanks for everything.
Love, patty
** from the poem "High Flight" by John Gillespie Magee, aviator and poet (1922-1941), also paraphrased by Ronald Reagan at an address to the nation after the loss of the Challenger crew. The whole poem, which I love:
"Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of Earth
And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;
Sunward I’ve climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth
of sun-split clouds, — and done a hundred things
You have not dreamed of — wheeled and soared and swung
High in the sunlit silence. Hov’ring there,
I’ve chased the shouting wind along, and flung
My eager craft through footless halls of air....
Up, up the long, delirious, burning blue
I’ve topped the wind-swept heights with easy grace.
Where never lark, or even eagle flew —
And, while with silent, lifting mind I've trod
The high untrespassed sanctity of space,
- Put out my hand, and touched the face of God."
It doesn't seem possible, but 46 years ago today, July 20, 1969, Apollo 11 landed on the Moon. I have always been a huge fan of NASA and the US Space Program, a true Space Nerd and Junkie.
At my home on Woodstock St., I sat on the floor, glued to the fuzzy black and white images of Neil Armstrong setting foot on the moon, leaving a footprint in what looked like flour. Remembering that first picture of Earth taken from the Moon, imagining what Michael Collins (the 3rd astronaut orbiting the Moon) must be feeling as his two colleagues hopped around on the Moon like a couple of 4 year old kids. It couldn't possibly be 46 years ago!
I watched the Space Program from its blurry start, from the launch of Alan Shepard, to John Glenn, and every launch of Gemini and Apollo. Always wanted to be an astronomer, but couldn't get good enough at math to ever do it, so I became a worshipper from afar. My bucket list began then, the first entry being that someday I WOULD see a launch in person.
I remember the fear as the astronauts of Apollo 13 faced the danger of not ever coming home - no one probably knows I actually lost sleep over it. I remember the ingenuity and genius of those who fixed the problem from the ground, as well as the work of James Lovell (I have his autograph on his book!) and his fellow astronauts. I watched countless launches, countless landings, and remember very clearly being in my office on January 28, 1986 when we lost Challenger and her crew. It's not easy to do your job and fight the urge to cry. Followed the news closely when on February 1, 2003 the shuttle Columbia broke up in reentry. I always thought it inconceivable that a spacecraft made to withstand the force of launch could have tiles on it and insulation which seemed so fragile. I still believe to this day that those astronauts KNEW they weren't going to make it. I know those astronauts, and those of Challenger, and the three heroes of Apollo 1 (Chaffee, Grissom, White) have "fled the surly bonds of earth to touch the face of God". **see note
I thank the fearless men and women of NASA - the astronauts, and the crews of the Space centers monitoring every move and making the journeys possible.
Arguments with those who thought (or think) that the Space Program is a waste: Heard 'em all. I have the best answer now... without them you wouldn't be reading this. You wouldn't have your nice little gadgets that you take for granted everyday. You wouldn't have your 300 channels of cable, or your satellite tv or radio (what, no Sirius??), CAT scans, MRIs, space blankets, computer mouse, cordless tools, firefighter gear, solar panels, memory foam, UV blocking glass or sunglasses, the list goes on and on.
And I finally DID get to see a live space launch - the last liftoff of the shuttle program, the Shuttle Atlantis - on July 8, 2011 - one of the most thrilling moments ever.
But I digress (as I often do). THANK YOU, NASA for making life easier, and giving me so much to see, read, and love. You helped me understand how insignificant we are in the face of an immense and infinite universe. Thanks for the Hubble telescope, and its thrilling, awesome pictures. Thanks for everything.
Love, patty
** from the poem "High Flight" by John Gillespie Magee, aviator and poet (1922-1941), also paraphrased by Ronald Reagan at an address to the nation after the loss of the Challenger crew. The whole poem, which I love:
"Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of Earth
And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;
Sunward I’ve climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth
of sun-split clouds, — and done a hundred things
You have not dreamed of — wheeled and soared and swung
High in the sunlit silence. Hov’ring there,
I’ve chased the shouting wind along, and flung
My eager craft through footless halls of air....
Up, up the long, delirious, burning blue
I’ve topped the wind-swept heights with easy grace.
Where never lark, or even eagle flew —
And, while with silent, lifting mind I've trod
The high untrespassed sanctity of space,
- Put out my hand, and touched the face of God."
Friday, June 26, 2015
Mini Rant Reprise: With a Few Changes...
Mini rant for the day: Before you read further, remember the name of this blog: NOT SUGAR COATED. If you are easily offended, STOP READING NOW. Be warned. This is a very close reprint of a mini rant posted a few months ago when everyone starting putting red 'equal' signs as their profile picture on facebook. Mini rant for the day: Before you read further, remember the name of this blog: NOT SUGAR COATED. If you are easily offended, STOP READING NOW. Be warned. This is a very close reprint of a mini rant posted a few months ago when everyone starting putting red 'equal' signs as their profile picture on facebook. Mini rant for the day: Before you read further, remember the name of this blog: NOT SUGAR COATED. If you are easily offended, STOP READING NOW. Be warned. This is a very close reprint of a mini rant posted a few months ago when everyone starting putting red 'equal' signs as their profile picture on facebook.
I'm painfully aware that some of the "news" of the day seems to center around the Confederate Flag. First off, if you want to hang it outside your house, who cares. But I do believe it should not fly in front of any State House. Just my opinion. Sorry, southies. That war is over, and by the way, you lost.
Now for the other news du jour, the Supreme Court decision about gay marriage. blah blah blah. Here's exactly how I feel Warning: Easily offended? STOP READING NOW.
If you are gay, fine. I really don't care. If you are straight, I really don't care.
If you want to marry, fine. I really don't care. If you don't, I still don't care.
If you want to marry your freakin' pet goat, dog, or fish, I don't care. If you don't, I still don't care.
If you want to be happy with whoever, fine. I don't care. If you want to be miserable, up to you.
If you like broccoli, fine, eat it till you explode. If you don't, I don't care.
If you think marriage should be between a man and woman, I don't care, If you think otherwise, guess what, I don't care about that either. And whatever your opinion, it's not my place to judge. Just as it's not your job to judge me or anyone else.
If you are some self righteous, judgmental person and want to interpret the Bible and say gays are all bad people and are going to hell, you're perfectly free to think that, but YOU AREN'T the Ultimate Judge. That's not our call, not our job. It's not for us to say anyone goes to Heaven or hell, including Hitler. Who are YOU to say where he is or isn't???
If I used birth control and you think I'm going to hell, well you don't know me, and still don't have the right to judge me any more than I have a right to judge you.
If you want to marry your girlfriend, boyfriend, pet goat, pet lizard or your neighbor's horse, I don't think it should have been up to nine old people. And politicians should have a WHOLE LOT more important shit to worry about than this. And they need to stop acting like they're five years old.
All that being said...
If you are making out in public and are straight, I don't want to see it. YUCK. EW. GROSS.
If you are making out in public and are gay, I don't want to see it. YUCK. EW. GROSS.
If you treat me badly and you're straight, I will NOT respect you. If you treat me badly and you're gay, I will not respect you.
If you mistreat or hurt someone I love and you're straight, you might as well be dead. If you mistreat or hurt someone I love and you're gay, you might as well be dead.
Notice a trend here? You're already all equal in my book.
:)
If you're offended, well you were warned.
Thursday, June 11, 2015
A Great Idea for a NEW Airline: Welcome to DoucheBag Air.
I just returned from an eight day vacation in Tampa, Florida with my friend of 42 years, Donna. We flew down, rented a car, drove to Palm Coast to see Carmen, drove to Orlando to see Fawn and family, drove to Altamont Springs to see one of Donna's godsons, and drove back to Tampa. Everyone we visited extended hospitality, food, and good will. In fact, they all spoiled us rotten.
OK so much for the good stuff.
As I have ranted in the past, I hate flying. Not the act of flying in itself, but the whole travel experience of having to leave for the airport at 7:30 am, sit in traffic to get to the airport two hours early, pay to check luggage, wait in line, hike to a gate, wait some more, then board an airplane leaving at noon. Now that is only the beginning.
The airline (American/US Air) does NOT enforce the baggage limit and size. As a result, people board the plane, power lift their 400 pound TOO LARGE suitcase into an overhead bin. This holds everyone else up. Reverse it when you try to get out of the damn plane, when you have to wait for the inconsiderate bastards to get out their 400 pounds of shit. Especially if you have to make a connecting flight. This, and having to cram your 20 inch ass into a 14 inch seat and fight with an impossibly twisted seatbelt.
We, therefore, would love someone to invest in our brilliant idea, for an airline fitted to OUR specifications, and cut us in on the profits. I know this would be popular, especially with those of us who are a bit oversized (in other words, bigger than a size 14) and are sick of all of the above. So:
**********************************
Welcome to DOUCHE BAG AIR...
- Our airline will have NO classes of seating. All seats will be at least 20 inches wide, so you don't have to cram a 20 inch ass into a 14 inch seat. The seatbelts will be big enough to not strangle you to death. Our tickets and seats will be color coded: blue ticket, you may pick any blue seat, and so on. You can trade seats with any willing passenger.
- The life saving vests and oxygen masks will be multicolored, so as not to look dull and ordinary. The aisles in this plane will be wide enough to fit two people passing one another on the way to the bathroom, which will be MUCH larger than a freakin' phone booth.
- The seats will NOT recline, so the boorish asshole in front of you cannot recline his seat into your personal space.
- There will be NO overhead bins. You will be able to check baggage, within TSA regulations, for FREE. But you will NOT carry any luggage onto this plane that doesn't fit underneath the seat in front of you. If you try to get luggage onto this plane, you will be fined $200 per bag, and the bags will be checked anyway. Don't want to do this? Well, find another airline because you are not flying DoucheBag Air. And no, you aren't getting a stinkin' refund either.
- Since you have lots of time if you've arrived at the airport two hours early, before boarding you will be treated to a fine buffet, thus eliminating the need to carry food onto this plane. You won't be served any alcohol on board, either. If you are anxious about flying, you will be offered dramamine and a nice, relaxing hot towel laced with chloroform. Sleep it off.
- If you misbehave on DoucheBag Air, you will be subject to getting your ass kicked by the rest of the passengers. This will be made abundantly clear after all the safety gobbledegook you hear. If this doesn't happen, you will either be chloroformed, or dropped into a special section of the cargo space, the "Dungeon". This is only because there was actually opposition to an unruly person being placed in a tube and shot out the ass end of the plane. There were even objections when I offered to put a parachute on the tube. Geez, some people are such buzzkills.
- Children who are misbehaving (running in the aisles, kicking the backs of others' seats) will be dropped into another auxiliary space in the cargo hold, which will be a "ball pit" like you find in Chuck E. Cheese or Ikea. Parents may join them if they wish.
- At the end of the flight, you will not be told to "Have a good day" or "Thanks for flying with us". You will be cheerily and enthusiastically told to "Have a DoucheNozzle Day!" (no I don't know what it means, but it's catchy)
"Have a 20 inch ass? Well, we don't care! Fly in comfort, with DoucheBag Air!"
******************************
Please tell me you wouldn't be glad to fly THIS airline, after all the assholes on the regular airlines holding you up by disobeying baggage rules, invading your personal space, getting hit with freakin' beverage carts and just being inconsiderate bastards in general... etc. I could go on forever.
So if you have a few million to spare, know a commercial pilot or two, and can get access to a used jet plane, just let me know.
If it works out we will expand to include DoucheBag Transport (limo to and from airport). The possibilities are endless!
Thanks for reading, and Have A DoucheNozzle Day.
OK so much for the good stuff.
As I have ranted in the past, I hate flying. Not the act of flying in itself, but the whole travel experience of having to leave for the airport at 7:30 am, sit in traffic to get to the airport two hours early, pay to check luggage, wait in line, hike to a gate, wait some more, then board an airplane leaving at noon. Now that is only the beginning.
The airline (American/US Air) does NOT enforce the baggage limit and size. As a result, people board the plane, power lift their 400 pound TOO LARGE suitcase into an overhead bin. This holds everyone else up. Reverse it when you try to get out of the damn plane, when you have to wait for the inconsiderate bastards to get out their 400 pounds of shit. Especially if you have to make a connecting flight. This, and having to cram your 20 inch ass into a 14 inch seat and fight with an impossibly twisted seatbelt.
We, therefore, would love someone to invest in our brilliant idea, for an airline fitted to OUR specifications, and cut us in on the profits. I know this would be popular, especially with those of us who are a bit oversized (in other words, bigger than a size 14) and are sick of all of the above. So:
**********************************
Welcome to DOUCHE BAG AIR...
- Our airline will have NO classes of seating. All seats will be at least 20 inches wide, so you don't have to cram a 20 inch ass into a 14 inch seat. The seatbelts will be big enough to not strangle you to death. Our tickets and seats will be color coded: blue ticket, you may pick any blue seat, and so on. You can trade seats with any willing passenger.
- The life saving vests and oxygen masks will be multicolored, so as not to look dull and ordinary. The aisles in this plane will be wide enough to fit two people passing one another on the way to the bathroom, which will be MUCH larger than a freakin' phone booth.
- The seats will NOT recline, so the boorish asshole in front of you cannot recline his seat into your personal space.
- There will be NO overhead bins. You will be able to check baggage, within TSA regulations, for FREE. But you will NOT carry any luggage onto this plane that doesn't fit underneath the seat in front of you. If you try to get luggage onto this plane, you will be fined $200 per bag, and the bags will be checked anyway. Don't want to do this? Well, find another airline because you are not flying DoucheBag Air. And no, you aren't getting a stinkin' refund either.
- Since you have lots of time if you've arrived at the airport two hours early, before boarding you will be treated to a fine buffet, thus eliminating the need to carry food onto this plane. You won't be served any alcohol on board, either. If you are anxious about flying, you will be offered dramamine and a nice, relaxing hot towel laced with chloroform. Sleep it off.
- If you misbehave on DoucheBag Air, you will be subject to getting your ass kicked by the rest of the passengers. This will be made abundantly clear after all the safety gobbledegook you hear. If this doesn't happen, you will either be chloroformed, or dropped into a special section of the cargo space, the "Dungeon". This is only because there was actually opposition to an unruly person being placed in a tube and shot out the ass end of the plane. There were even objections when I offered to put a parachute on the tube. Geez, some people are such buzzkills.
- Children who are misbehaving (running in the aisles, kicking the backs of others' seats) will be dropped into another auxiliary space in the cargo hold, which will be a "ball pit" like you find in Chuck E. Cheese or Ikea. Parents may join them if they wish.
- At the end of the flight, you will not be told to "Have a good day" or "Thanks for flying with us". You will be cheerily and enthusiastically told to "Have a DoucheNozzle Day!" (no I don't know what it means, but it's catchy)
"Have a 20 inch ass? Well, we don't care! Fly in comfort, with DoucheBag Air!"
******************************
Please tell me you wouldn't be glad to fly THIS airline, after all the assholes on the regular airlines holding you up by disobeying baggage rules, invading your personal space, getting hit with freakin' beverage carts and just being inconsiderate bastards in general... etc. I could go on forever.
So if you have a few million to spare, know a commercial pilot or two, and can get access to a used jet plane, just let me know.
If it works out we will expand to include DoucheBag Transport (limo to and from airport). The possibilities are endless!
Thanks for reading, and Have A DoucheNozzle Day.
Sunday, February 22, 2015
On the Academy 'awards' and I use the term Loosely.
Note: this is a slightly rewritten version of a post from a few years ago.
It's been awhile since I ranted about anything but the weather, and that's getting freakin' boring. I'll skip the winter weather stuff because I'm over it.
I got my Burpee catalog so it means Spring is coming. :)
Anyway, tonight are the "Oscars". I will be DVRing it, while periodically checking it live. DVRing it is the way to go because I hate all the extra stupid crap the presenters have to go through, and the inane commercials. Will probably get through the whole show in under an hour. Neil Patrick Harris, the jury is still out on whether you come back next year from what I've seen. Makes it easy to skip over all the stupid speeches and performers I've never heard of, then pause and rewind to see any hot guys and what all the bitches are wearing. We DVR the Voice and get through it in less than 15 minutes and still hear everything.
Now if you really follow any of these so-called "stars" or care about what any of them think or feel, or otherwise give two shits about who wins, and/or are easily offended, STOP READING NOW.
Personally, I don't think there is a real "star" left. The big, real, genuine Hollywood Stars are all gone. (Clark Gable, Charlton Heston, Cary Grant, Vivien Leigh, Bette Davis, Richard Burton, Joan Crawford, Hedy Lamarr, Elizabeth Taylor, John Garfield, June Allyson, Robert Mitchum, Burt Lancaster, Gene Kelly, Fred Astaire...) They were REAL stars, not the likes of the horrible KarTrashians, or the disgusting Oprah or the repulsive Rosie.
If I really thought it mattered, or I had anything to do with this show, I would enforce the following rules,
RULES: NO exceptions unless you are one of the Real Stars coming back from the dead, which is pretty highly unlikely.
1. Refrain from heavy drinking and/or drug use before going to the ceremony, and at least LOOK or ACT yes act, like you want to be there.
2. You have lots of money, for the love of Beelzebub, go GET YOUR HAIR DONE. If you're a guy, and want to carry off the "scruffy" look, please at least make it a CLEAN scruffy look. You can look scruffy and sexy, all you gotta do is take a bath and comb your hair. Really. Next, buy a MIRROR and USE IT. If you want to wear a strapless gown, maybe you should have something to hold it up with, and make sure you don't have to keep hiking it up every five seconds. NOT classy. And if you think a deep v-neck gown showing your boobs being flattened down is attractive, look again. It's NOT. If you're wearing high heels, take some lessons on how to properly walk in them.
Rule 2A: Hey Jennifer Aniston: You're a beautiful woman. You wore a beautiful dress. If you would have bothered to comb your hair, or maybe had it in an updo, and wore some borrowed jewelry, you would have been a knockout. But you didn't, so you weren't.
3. Have the writers refrain from the corny shit that could have been written by your sixth grader. Nobody needs to see you fake flirt with your co-presenter. Please act a little dignified, even if you aren't.
4. Introduce presenters. Presenter, get up there, read the damn nominees without pretending YOU'RE going for the damn award. Cameraman, pan the audience for the nominees. Presenter, announce the winner without the pregnant "american idol" pause. We don't need it. Winner, get up, wave to everyone, smile, go to podium, accept your award graciously and with some class. Smile again, say Thank You and GO SIT DOWN.
5. Try to remember that no one gives a shit who you voted for. I don't want to hear how much you love Obama, the Kennedys, or hate the Bushes. I don't want to hear you speechify about Isis, slavery, jails, Guantanamo Bay. I don't want to hear about it. Not the time or the place. I don't give a shit about how you love every politician, and don't care if you slept with half of them. I don't care to hear about your views on crime, gun control, how much you hate conservatives, immigration, the economy, the deficit, the war, gay marriage or anything else. Just say "Thank You" in 25 words or less and GO SIT THE F**K DOWN.
This would make the Oscars so much more tolerable. Cut the shit, singers get up and sing. Presenters, get up and present. Winners, say thanks and SIT DOWN.
And there you have it. I feel so much better. Goodnight.
It's been awhile since I ranted about anything but the weather, and that's getting freakin' boring. I'll skip the winter weather stuff because I'm over it.
I got my Burpee catalog so it means Spring is coming. :)
Anyway, tonight are the "Oscars". I will be DVRing it, while periodically checking it live. DVRing it is the way to go because I hate all the extra stupid crap the presenters have to go through, and the inane commercials. Will probably get through the whole show in under an hour. Neil Patrick Harris, the jury is still out on whether you come back next year from what I've seen. Makes it easy to skip over all the stupid speeches and performers I've never heard of, then pause and rewind to see any hot guys and what all the bitches are wearing. We DVR the Voice and get through it in less than 15 minutes and still hear everything.
Now if you really follow any of these so-called "stars" or care about what any of them think or feel, or otherwise give two shits about who wins, and/or are easily offended, STOP READING NOW.
Personally, I don't think there is a real "star" left. The big, real, genuine Hollywood Stars are all gone. (Clark Gable, Charlton Heston, Cary Grant, Vivien Leigh, Bette Davis, Richard Burton, Joan Crawford, Hedy Lamarr, Elizabeth Taylor, John Garfield, June Allyson, Robert Mitchum, Burt Lancaster, Gene Kelly, Fred Astaire...) They were REAL stars, not the likes of the horrible KarTrashians, or the disgusting Oprah or the repulsive Rosie.
If I really thought it mattered, or I had anything to do with this show, I would enforce the following rules,
RULES: NO exceptions unless you are one of the Real Stars coming back from the dead, which is pretty highly unlikely.
1. Refrain from heavy drinking and/or drug use before going to the ceremony, and at least LOOK or ACT yes act, like you want to be there.
2. You have lots of money, for the love of Beelzebub, go GET YOUR HAIR DONE. If you're a guy, and want to carry off the "scruffy" look, please at least make it a CLEAN scruffy look. You can look scruffy and sexy, all you gotta do is take a bath and comb your hair. Really. Next, buy a MIRROR and USE IT. If you want to wear a strapless gown, maybe you should have something to hold it up with, and make sure you don't have to keep hiking it up every five seconds. NOT classy. And if you think a deep v-neck gown showing your boobs being flattened down is attractive, look again. It's NOT. If you're wearing high heels, take some lessons on how to properly walk in them.
Rule 2A: Hey Jennifer Aniston: You're a beautiful woman. You wore a beautiful dress. If you would have bothered to comb your hair, or maybe had it in an updo, and wore some borrowed jewelry, you would have been a knockout. But you didn't, so you weren't.
3. Have the writers refrain from the corny shit that could have been written by your sixth grader. Nobody needs to see you fake flirt with your co-presenter. Please act a little dignified, even if you aren't.
4. Introduce presenters. Presenter, get up there, read the damn nominees without pretending YOU'RE going for the damn award. Cameraman, pan the audience for the nominees. Presenter, announce the winner without the pregnant "american idol" pause. We don't need it. Winner, get up, wave to everyone, smile, go to podium, accept your award graciously and with some class. Smile again, say Thank You and GO SIT DOWN.
5. Try to remember that no one gives a shit who you voted for. I don't want to hear how much you love Obama, the Kennedys, or hate the Bushes. I don't want to hear you speechify about Isis, slavery, jails, Guantanamo Bay. I don't want to hear about it. Not the time or the place. I don't give a shit about how you love every politician, and don't care if you slept with half of them. I don't care to hear about your views on crime, gun control, how much you hate conservatives, immigration, the economy, the deficit, the war, gay marriage or anything else. Just say "Thank You" in 25 words or less and GO SIT THE F**K DOWN.
This would make the Oscars so much more tolerable. Cut the shit, singers get up and sing. Presenters, get up and present. Winners, say thanks and SIT DOWN.
And there you have it. I feel so much better. Goodnight.
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