Wednesday, December 29, 2010

Tucker Carlson is a Douche

Dude doesn't even qualify to be a douchebag. That would be too good for him because then he would be useful. Wait, even a douche can be useful. After all, we all remember the Summer's Eve commercials from the late 80s and early 90s. Two women walking on a beach and one looks at the other and says "Mom, can I ask you a personal question? Do you douche?" So what is more useless than a douche? Oh, I know, an idiotic television personality who thinks he is smart or funny or something.

For those of you who missed it, and judging by the ratings that would be most of America, Tucker Carlson says Michael Vick should have been executed for his dogfighting. And in case you have been living in a hole for the last 4 years, or you get your news from Fox News, Michael Vick is a football player who ran a dogfighting ring.

Let me preface this with the fact that I am a dog lover. I always had dogs growing up. I still have dogs. My first dog was Marshmallow, a white Great Pyrennes. Dogs are cool. I also think dogfighting is a heinous crime and one that should be punished. Dogs are, for the most part, defenseless from what we want to do to them. So if some jackass wants to put his dog in a ring with another dog that is going to attack it, the dog can't really say no or call CPS. And if said jackass wants to kill his own dog because the dog isn't a good enough fighter, as Vick did, then the dog doesn't have much of a chance. So, yeah, dogfighting sucks and it is for jackasses.

Vick has no excuse. He saw his first dog fight at 7. Sorry. That must have been a crappy childhood. I couldn't imagine what it would be like to grow up and see dogs fighting and killing each other. Then you have to watch humans bet on this and get enjoyment out of it. Kids growing up watching this must have rough childhoods. I get that. But that is no excuse for doing it as a grown man.

Especially a multi-millionaire who can surround himself with lawyers, agents, PR folks (I recommend Phil Reese at www.prprnewyork.com), and any number of professionals who would tell him that dog fighting is dumb and should be avoided. I know your "boys" are into it and want you to finance it. They probably want you to finance their pimping and pandering and their dealing in the drug trade. Heck, they may want you to finance their purchase of blood diamonds. But you gotta say no.

So on to this Tucker Carlson douche. First, any guy who has as first name that is also a last name can't be trusted. Just go with it. Tucker is a garment maker. I guess this Tucker makes garments of crap. Or maybe his garments are crap. This guy said that Michael Vick is some creepy rich football player who should be executed for dogfighting.

Apparently, Tucker Carlson is perfect. He must live in a glass house. I wonder what is is like to be perfect. Apparently, if you go to some swanky boarding school in New Hampshire and are an heir to some fortune, you are perfect. Oh well, except for that rape accusation made against you that you say is false and that time you talked about the allegedly gay man who you beat up after you claim he touched your junk. I guess when you beat people up and are accused of rape you are perfect.

For the rest of us, we make mistakes. Who among us has not screwed up? I know I have plenty of times. Yet, somehow my friends (my actual friends and not those people who say they are friends but never come around unless they need something) and family forgive me. No one has wanted to see me killed over my mistakes, thank goodness. Heck, we all screw up. Not one among us is perfect. If you think you are perfect, you should take a look in the mirror, unless you are like Casper and don't have a reflection.

Look, I hate what Vick did. But he paid his price. The court sentenced him. He completed that sentence and from everything I read, he was a model citizen while incarcerated. He knows what he did is wrong. He has to live with that every day. He goes and talks to kids about what he did. He can't own a dog and has to explain to his kids why they can't have a dog.

When you screw up, you know you screwed up and you have to deal with it every day. The bigger this mistake, the more you have to deal with it. But the great thing about our country and about the people in our country is that we believe in second chances. You have to do your time. You have to admit you were wrong. And it sucks admitting when you made a mistake. It especially sucks when you have to admit it to those closest to you - like your wife. It sucks when you know you can't blame other people. But you man up, admit your mistake and take your punishment. And when it is done, you get a second chance. That is how it works.

Vick screwed up more than most of us ever will. And he paid his price. He went to prison. He had to file for bankruptcy. He has lost the respect of a lot of people. And every day he looks in the mirror and realizes he screwed up. And he realizes he is lucky that he has a second chance to make a living playing a game.

Tucker Carlson has no place telling anyone that Vick should have been executed. Maybe Tucker (anyone else notice that it rhymes with *ucker) should have had the crap kicked out of him when he beat up that guy in the 80s. Maybe Tucker should be taken out back and flogged for being a host on Fox with no actual credentials. Maybe he should be tied to a post for making such an idiotic statement.

I get it. He is paid to have an opinion. And the more outrageous his opinion, the more people talk about him. And the more they talk about him, the more money he can make. But at some point, you just have to realize that you sound like a complete fool. You sound like you don't understand our system of justice and you don't understand our country. Tucker should go back to his rich private schools and his completely out of touch society and stay away from the rest of America. He has no clue about how real people deal with real problems and while Vick isn't like most of us, we can relate much better to a guy who had a rough upbringing, made it big, lost it bigger, and is now making a comeback. I don't know anyone who can relate to a snotty, boarding school educated punk who has never had a real job in his day or done anything that is productive for the rest of society.

Give Vick a 2nd chance. Give Tucker a timeout - a permanent timeout from television and spouting his nonsense filled hatred.

Sunday, December 19, 2010

People can be good

I know my last post was about how people suck. I have been thinking about that. And I was all set to write about more dumb things people do. But I decided too much negativity is a bad thing. So while I will still rant, I am going to try to put a more positive spin on it. This post is in that light. I encourage everyone to read it carefully.

Okay, I admit it. I have been a hypocrite. I know. So today I decided to do something about it. What better day to do it than my youngest son's 7th birthday? It also doubles as the 7 year anniversary of my law firm. So, it seemed fitting. Start the new year, at least the business new year, on a new note.

For years, a friend of mine has posted about "The Untied Way." (No, its not the United Way. It is the untied way - I do know how to spell - usually.) I have read the emails and thought "Huh, that is so nice." But I haven't done anything about it. Heck, I have even forwarded the email to other people. But, I never followed up on it myself.

So, today I am sitting at Starbucks with my son. We are enjoying a muffin and coffee. Well, I am enjoying the coffee. He is enjoying the muffin and an Odwalla. He says he wants to do something for other people. He wants to buy a whole bunch of coffees and pass them out to the homeless people. Great idea, but I can't take 20 coffees in my car. So, what to do? Then it hit me - the Untied Way.

Look, it has been a hard year. I have f-d up more than I care to admit to. I have been a crappy father at time. I have been a crappy husband. I have been a crappy friend. I know it. I have screwed up more in the last 6 months than in the last 6 years. Heck, I have screwed up more in the last 6 months than I did in middle school and high school combined and I was the kid whose parents were told I needed to find a new school for 8th grade since they weren't letting me back to the public school. (You can find the school in one of my Facebook groups. Its funny.)

And so I have done some soul searching. I have tried to figure out what has gone wrong. I still don't know. But I am working on it. (And no, I am not blaming anyone but me. I may be pissed at people and may want to go kick the living crap out of people, but I have to take responsibility for decisions I made.) And I realized today, sitting with my son, there but for the grace of God, go I. I am fortunate that my screw up is something I can deal with. I can take steps to repair what I did, even if it can never be fixed. I can do the right thing even when I haven't always done the right thing. And the right thing starts with setting a good example.

My dad set a good example for me. His dad did before him. My mom's dad set a good example. And we have all gone through tough times. They all had rough patches in life and problems to deal with. My grandfathers had the Great Depression. My dad's dad sold toilet supplies and in WWII worked on building the bomb. I don't mean sitting in a lab, I mean actually building it. My dad had to deal with, among other things, me. I was not an easy child. (The best story being the counselor in 10th grade who told my parents that I was an underachiever because I didn't know what I wanted to do in life. My dad told the psychologist he was full of it because he didn't know what he wanted to do in life until he was in his mid-20s. Want proof? The guy had a Ph.D in pharmaceutical chemistry, yeah that, and ended up in business development.) Yet, somehow, they managed to set good examples, although I now know they weren't perfect. And they always managed to show that they cared about other people. I don't recall seeing any of them making donations and I don't recall any of them talking about it. But after my dad passed away, looking through his things, I knew he had always been giving.

So, I have a chance with Miles to set a good example. He wants to do the coffee, but it just isn't going to happen. So I loaded the kids into the car and drove to my local ATM. I took out enough money that I thought about it. And I drove over near the local homeless shelter. I drove down an alley and saw a guy there. I handed him a bill. He looked at me, first like I was crazy, and then said thank you. I wished him a Merry Christmas and drove a bit farther. Again, I handed the guy a bill and wished him a Merry Christmas. Well, word spreads quickly when you are in that part of town and giving out money. There were even kids who came up to me. In just minutes, it was gone. I had people coming up to me and asking even after I ran out.

When we were done, Miles asked me if he could open a lemonade stand in the summer and give the money he makes to the homeless folks. I told him we could do that. It made him smile.

I don't know what these folks are going to do with the money. Some might buy a cup of coffee. Some might buy crack. Some might buy a raincoat. I don't know. And, I don't care. It isn't a lot. But it means a lot to them.

The point is not to judge what they are doing with the money. The point is to show them that someone cares. The point is to remind myself that, but for some different decisions in life, it could be me with the bags of clothes walking the street. It could be someone I know, someone I care about. It was a reminder that I have been lucky in life. And when you are lucky, you need to not screw that up. We don't have to be perfect, but we have to understand that there isn't a big gap between what we have (and, look, if you are reading this, you have - and while it may not be what you want, you still have more than the folks who I saw today who had everything they owned in a bag with them) and the folks who do not have.

Everyone screws up. Some of us are lucky enough not to screw up too much. Some of us aren't as lucky and screw up big time. When we do, we need to take responsibility for our actions and remember how lucky we are. Today, this served as a reminder to me. And it gave me a chance to show my son how we can give to those who are less fortunate.

I would encourage everyone to read The Untied Way. It has given me some perspective this year. It has reminded me that I am one of the lucky ones. It has also reminded me that I need to ask forgiveness from those I have hurt and be thankful for what I have. While it is here today, it may not be tomorrow.

Friday, December 10, 2010

People Suck

Its been a while since I blogged. Probably too long. Or for those of you who have read this before, maybe you want a longer wait. (Warning: Not everything that is here is kid friendly so don't read this with your 8 year old around. As Charles Barkley said, I am not a role model.)

WTF is up with people? I seriously want to go kick someone's ass. Not "ha ha that was a funny high school girl fight." I mean actually kick someone's ass. And the ass of said person is large enough that I would try to kick it out the other side. I mean, douchebag's like this don't have male genitalia so its not like I would ruin something. But, before I get there, a few other things that bother me.

If you own a car, and you have a freaking driver's license, why don't you learn how to drive? Sure, we all get in accidents. I understand. In fact, it is what helps me pay the bills. So, I am not anti-accident. Except when it comes to me.

I am driving tonight and there is an accident in the lane I am in. The cars are stopped. Everyone sees this. Everyone in the other lane lets cars in. I am the next car in my lane. My turn signal has been on for some time. I am in a big Expedition with my lights on. The only person who couldn't see me should have been the blind guy walking down the sidewalk. No, really, there was a blind guy walking down the sidewalk. But the dweeb in the car in the right lane continues to come fast and honks at me. Fine, I dont want to crash my car into his POS car. (Go find the prior post with the link to Adam Sandler. I am not in the mood to find it again.) Then this old lady comes driving down the road and does the same thing. Finally, the nice guy behind lets me in.

I drive up to the old woman. I honk at her and she puts her hands up like she doesn't know what I am talking about. Really, lady? You didnt see me get behind you after you refused to freaking let me in? Do I have "IDIOT" written across my forehead? You know you were a bitch and I know you were a bitch. In a civilized society, you would apologize for being a bitch. I would smile and wave and still think you are a bitch, but at least a bitch who apologized. You would go from a zero in my book to like a 4. An apology means a lot.

I had every intention of going up to the guy in the car. But, that dumbass ran the red light at the next intersection. Look, buddy, I know you clearly have vision problems since you couldn't see my car. I know you clearly don't care about your POS car because the guys in that gum commercial (Big Red, maybe) could pick up your car and move it and you clearly didn't care if I ran it over. I know you don't care about what happens to you since you were fine with letting me smush you like a monster truck runs over one of those flattened junkers. But, running a red light? Really? You think that is a good idea? How about the innocent folks who you could have injured or killed because you are in a rush to get to your Losers Anonymous class? Or maybe you were on your way to "I have a bad hair piece and women won't talk to me" club? I don't know and I don't care. I just know that you are a hazard and should never be on the road.

Then there are people who just don't get it. Look, if you don't like how I am doing something, tell me. Its not that hard. Dont pretend its not a problem and then drop it on me at the last minute. I know I am not perfect. These days I am pretty fucking far from perfect. I saw perfect once from two light years away. That is the closest I have gotten. And last month, it moved to four light years away. And there was a black hole between me and perfect. But, give me a break. A little warning before you drop a bomb on someone, especially a friend, would be nice. Is that really asking for too much?

But beyond those groups of people (oh and dude who cannot drive, you better stay off the roads near my house because I am pretty sure one day I will see your picture in the paper with your car in a house and I do not mean the garage), there are bigger a-holes. These are the greedy son-of-a-bitch bleep-sucking m-f'ing bastards whose ass I would like to kick. No, wait, whose asses I would like to kick. Multiple folks in this group. I can think of at least 6.

Look, if you are greedy and want to scam folks, fine. Move to your own private island and scam yourselves. After all, its the only action you will be getting. But don't scam me. And really dont scam innocent folks. Sure, I know con men go back a long way. I like reading books about them. But don't do it. Go try to hustle at pool or basketball. Oh wait, you dumbasses are too old and too pathetic to be able to play a real sport like that. You just think you can go ahead and rip people off. Sure, maybe you got away with it for a while. But you always get caught. Always. And the punishment is always bad.

A word to the wise: if you are in a group of people and you cannot figure out who the mark is in a group, it is probably you. And yes, this applies to me as well. I should have bleeping remembered it. Sometimes we get too cocky and too caught up to realize we are the mark. And it sucks when you finally figure it out, especially when you get stuck with consequences because of it. It fucking sucks and it pisses me off. We have to take responsibility for our actions, but when you have been lied to and played, it doesn't make you feel any better taking responsibility. It does create a strong desire to go pummel someone. No, not just anyone. Thankfully, I would never actually do it because one of my four or five friends (that is total) would talk me out of it.

I know I ain't that smart. Of course, I was recently told I am not as smart as I think I am. Since I currently think of myself as having an IQ of about 70, I think that is impossible. Sure, I can put together words and talk off the cuff. But don't get the ability to talk confused with being smart. I have seen a lot of smart people who can't put together a sentence. And I know a lot of dumb asses who talk so much you would think they were getting paid by the letter. But even when you aren't that smart, it is no fun to be the mark. It sucks. It bites. It blows. And none of those in the good way. Only in the "dang it, this blows" way.

So there you go. People who suck. Not everyone sucks. Some people are very nice. Some people are good. Some people need a reminder that they are good people. And doing something bad doesn't mean you are a bad person. We all f up. I know I have more times than I can count. What matters is how you respond. Are you going to be the bitch who doesn't let someone in and won't apologize or are you going to be the person who says "I fucked up and need to make this right?" I choose the second option.

Monday, May 17, 2010

School Libraries

Okay, lets be clear: I am not a big library guy. I think the last time I was in a library Ronald Reagan was acting. For my younger readers, Ronald Reagan was an actor before he became President. Wait, he was Governor of California before he became President. And he was an actor before he became Governor. Of course, the difference between Reagan and the current California governor, also a former actor, is that Reagan could act. Oh, and he could lead. But that is a whole different discussion. (And, no, don't post your cheap shots at a dead guy on my blog. I won't publish them! Show some respect for the dead, unless its one of my very funny White Gloved dead guy references.)

Anyway, I don't frequent the libraries. I know where the library is. Its that big building in town with a lot of books. Actually, in my town, it is a big building with a lot of books that had to be delayed because the 2nd story couldn't hold all of the books. Nice engineering. There also happen to be libraries at my kids' school. And I think at most schools. Although, I am pretty sure most kids at an elementary school call it a "lie-berry" and not a "library."

As you know, we have budget problems in this state. Our elected leaders have had to make decisions. You know, confirm a Lt. Governor, a job that pays six figures a year and does nothing, or give more money to our kids. The elected leaders, of course, confirmed a Lt. Governor. Nice. But, our budget problems are bigger than that. We have to make cuts in education. I know teachers are going to lose their jobs. The teachers union agreed to a couple of furlough days to save some jobs. The district is cutting stuff left and right. And left. Then more to the right. Then to the left, to the left, to the left. (Come on, you know you are picturing Beyonce as you read that.)

But then we get to the libraries. Did you know that libraries at schools have unionized jobs? Isn't that a bit like lawyers working for the state unionizing? Oh wait, they already have a union. Sorry. The librarians are part of the "Damn it, do it our way" Union - Local 666. Mess with them and you end up under Giants Stadium in a barrel. Don't believe me? The Teamsters didn't take out Hoffa - the librarians did!

So, the librarians are being cut. I feel bad. Really, I do. I don't like to see people lose their jobs. It is bad for them. It is bad for the economy. It is bad for my kids. I get that. But, sometimes, when life gives you lemons, make lemonheads, you know that delicious candy. In this case, the librarians decided to ignore Peter, Paul and Mary and they found out the fruit of the lemon tree is impossible to eat!

The librarian union decided that if they couldn't work in the library, than dang it, no one could. No teachers. No administrators. No parents. No volunteers. No no-one, dang it. Why, the kids are much better off with no library than a library with volunteers, after all. I mean, do we really want kids learning the Dewey Decimal system? Do we really want them to read books, explore the world and learn about new things? Of course not. Next maybe the librarians will decide to have a book burning day!

I know, it is in their contract. The district bargained for it. Well, first, lets start with the fact that school board officials routinely vote for things without actually understanding what it is. They have no impulse control. Second, the union could waive a clause in the contract. It is possible. Heck, even Donald Fehr, the dweeb who runs the MLB players union, waived a provision or two in their BS contract. But, not the librarians. Nope, dang it. They aren't waiving anything, although one wonders if librarians get their jobs back, if they may be waving the black flag - as in the roach motel. (Roaches check in, but they don't check out.) (And no, I didn't have to look up that slogan!)

Memo to the union: if you want parents to feel for you, you need to throw us a bone once in a while. How about you let us volunteer to keep the libraries open so our students can use it. I promise you this - if you don't give on this issue, I will never, ever, ever offer you any support. I know its not a rank and file issue, but a problem with union leadership. By the way, union leadership ranks up there with Aunt Jemima Light. It is just not possible.

So union leadership: how about you remember the purpose of your members? Kids. Kids. Kids. You need to help the kids. Helping the kids means you let parents volunteer. If you are too clueless to get that, then you need to be fired. Now. Jackasses.

Monday, March 1, 2010

Its Frickin Fast Food

I don't know about the rest of you, but once in a while I like me some good old fashioned fast food. I want two all beef patties, special sauce, lettuce, cheese, pickles, onion on a sesame seed bun. I want some Of The Taco fries. Man, those are good. I do not, repeat, NOT, want that crazy King guy. Have you seen the newest commercial? He is running through an office breaking windows to give someone food. WTF? Seriously. Dude looks like Chester. Yes, I mean Chester the Molester. He is one scary looking big headed made up dude. Seriously, the King makes Jack look like a normal person. I expect to see the King on some Discovery Health show: "Really tall, scary looking, big headed people."

Anyway, tonight we hit the KFC. You know, this used to be called Kentucky Fried Chicken. Well, we have the KFC/A&W. I like the A&W. I am a big root beer fan. Root beer is good. Very, very good. Anyway, so they changed the name from Kentucky Fried Chicken to KFC to apparently appear healthier. Great. Good for them. Healthy is good. I appreciate a little good health once in a while. An apple a year keeps the doctor with fear. (Okay, not that funny, but its late and I am tired and still hungry.) But, this place was ridiculous tonight.

First, lets be clear. They call themselves quick serve restaurants. I call it fast food. The emphasis is on fast, not food. I like food. But if I wanted slow food, I would go to a sit down restaurant. You know, a place with lots of options, a waiter, tables, chairs and a price over $3.99 for a full meal. I want my food fast. Hence, the name fast food.

Second, I want what you have on your limited menu. Let's be honest about this: KFC has about 3 choices. Sure, I can get my chicken on a plate or in a sandwich, but its the same chicken. They throw it on mashed potatoes and call it a bowl. But its all just chicken. You either get it fried or you get it grilled. It is KFC after all. This one has burgers too, since it is also an A&W. But that limits it to about 5 choices. Its just a matter of how it is served. But it is still all the same.

So, tonight we went to get dinner. The misses wanted grilled chicken. Lets get a grilled chicken wrap. Okay. Easy enough. Mashed potatoes. Done with her. Um, we have a problem. They don't have grilled chicken. Huh? Doesn't that cut the menu in half. They have nothing with grilled chicken. Um, so we get a pot pie. Fine. I want some fancy box they have. Sure. It comes with grilled chicken. They have grilled chicken for that, but apparently they cannot put it in a wrap. Don't they have knives? Can't they cut the chicken up. Its KF CHICKEN! They do not have chicken? WTF?

Fine. So we finish ordering. We then go up and pay. She takes my money. Then she says "It is going to be 4 minutes. Is that okay?" Um, what the heck am I supposed to say now? No? You have my money, but it's not okay now. Seriously? Fine, I will wait. Oh, I need to go park? Sure. I am such a nice guy. I will go park.

2 minutes go by. 3 minutes. 4 minutes. 5 minutes. 6 minutes. This is ridiculous. I go in. Waiting, waiting, waiting.............finally someone comes up to the counter. Yes, you can help me. I placed an order and would like it. They go check. Oh, they are still working on it. Apparently the food was cooked - no one could put it in a box. Really? A box? It is not rocket science. I am pretty sure a 15 year old pimply kid with braces, greasy hair and bad BO can put the food in a box. How freaking hard can it be?

So finally they give me my food. Um, memo to KFC: It is fast chicken. Get some more chicken and make it fast. Otherwise, I have absolutely no reason to eat your food - ever. I could microwave a chicken breast and have it be better than waiting for bad chicken from people who can't put it in a box!

Wednesday, February 10, 2010

What kind of parent are you?

So, what kind of parent are you? No, I don't mean a good parent or a bad parent. That is easy to figure out. The freaks who put their kids on television shows on TLC or Discovery Health or something like that - bad parents. If your last name is Gosselin and you were on tv - bad parent. If your kid fell into the river of chocolate - bad parent. (Oh, come on, Willy Wonka, get it? The original not this Johnny Depp nonsense. Sheesh!) If your kid grows up to win the Nobel Prize - good parent. If your kid finds a cure for cancer - good parent. If you think teaching your baby to read with some piece of crap infomercial product - bad parent.

Sorry, that was kind of a long tangent. Really, I don't mean good parent or bad parent. I mean, what kind of parent are you? Apparently, this is important. To whom, I do not know. Well, it seems important to people who have word counts to meet. Yes, I mean you Mr. Newspaper reporter. Okay, so enough. What am I talking about? The Chico Press-Enterprise or whatever they call that ridiculous newspaper up in the town that used to be known for having America's #1 party school and the Sacramento Bee both apparently think its important to identify parents as either adoptive or biological.

No, wait. That is not true. They think its important to identify when people are adoptive parents. Repeatedly. As if it matters to someone. I don't recall much about writing a newspaper article, and I have never actually written a newspaper article, but I believe that they are supposed to include facts that are relevant. So, the name of the mass murderer is probably relevant. The location of a bank robbery is probably relevant. The fact that Senator Calderon failed to report donations from the insurance industry when he was the chairman of the insurance committee is definitely relevant.

The fact that Billy and Susie Homemaker adopted little Sally, who they are accused of beating, is irrelevant. Suddenly, it seems that how you ended up with a child is some indication of how you parent. There is a story in the Sacramento Bee which was apparently reprinted from the Chico Screw-Up Enterprise that starts as follows: "Police say that a 7 year old girl died Saturday after being beaten by her adoptive parents....."

Last time I checked, I didn't see a story that started: "Bristol Palin, biological daughter of Sarah Palin, had a child out of wedlock with some dweeb." (Seriously, if you remember the guy's name, you need help. Okay, I need help since its Levi Johnson.) Or how about: "Crazy Michael Savage, who can't complete a thought because of his experiment with herbs (hey, he claims to be a world famous herbal expert), the biological son of an immigrant, still has no clue about autism and families dealing with autistic children." Am I right? I mean, I didn't read last summer: "Michael Jackson, the biological child of a freakish, scary father, died after having 152 plastic surgeries, having his nose replaced with a clip and turning his skin from black in to bright white like the kid who's car had smashed so hard." (Google it if you don't get the lyrical reference. Yes, it is funny. Actually, go listen to the song. Heck, buy the CD from which the song comes from.)

Yet, somehow, when a child is adopted it is part of the story. Its like if something bad happens, the adoption must be important. The fact that Lee Harvey Oswald came out of his mother's birth canal is never reported. But the fact that these douches in Paradise adopted the child and then beat her seems to be important. Its not.

News flash: I have adopted several children. I also have a biological child. Now back to our rant.

I am not the adoptive parent of my children. Just like I am not the biological parent of my biological child. I am a parent. A father. A dad. Daddy. I may have adopted my children, but I am not an adoptive parent. It is offensive. Why not describe me as the white parent? How about the bald parent? How about if I start describing biological parents like this: Ron and Martha are the people who came out of the birth canal of Sara and James. Or maybe I can do it this way: Ron and Martha came out the woo-hoo of Sara after James had been in there.

Maybe we can go farther. Children who are born after in vitro can be those test tube babies. Or maybe those petrie dish children. You could be William and Mary, the parents of petrie dish children. Or maybe we can get more graphic? Anyone want to bet whether I can get more graphic?

And while I am picking on the fine folks in Michael Phelps favorite California city, lets be clear this is not just for newspaper folks. It is also for anyone else. School districts? I am not an adoptive parent and even if my child is adopted, it doesn't matter when you don't provide services to my kid. Doctors? Sure, it is relevant for medical history, but after that it doesn't matter.

Want to bet? Just go ask the piece of poo attorney who made the mistake of making a comment about me while my son, who happens to be adopted, was in the hospital. Hell hath no fury like a pissed off white guy who has the mouth of a sailor and the venom of me. Of course, he followed this up by also commenting about the time when my wife had a baby. That would be my biological child. Again, hell hath no fury like a pissed off white guy who has the mouth of a sailor and the venom of me. Notice its the same? That is kind of the point.

My kids are my kids. My family is my family. I don't care if they are adopted, by birth, from a test tube, fell off the moon, dropped out of a spaceship or were found in a barn. They are my kids and how we became a family is irrelevant, you insensitive, uninformed, Neanderthal. Go get a freaking clue about life and than talk to me about families and how they are formed. Until then, take your piece of crap, poorly written, uninformative article and shove it where the sun don't shine, which by the way, could be the place your next child comes out of!

Thursday, January 28, 2010

My name is, My name is.........

Greek Rectum. That is so not nice of me. Okay, the guys name is not Greek Rectum. But, it might as well be. Dude should be a rectal douche. Why?

So, I am working away today. And I get this call. The guy is an attorney. He practices in bankruptcy law. He would also owe a client of mine some money. Not a ton of money, but some money. She asked for a refund. They said no. I asked for a refund for her. They said no. So, it gets escalated. Remember, I sue people - and I like it.

So, he starts by explaining he wants to resolve this. Apparently his partner Flamboyant Little Thing (just trust me, the name is funny if you think about the opposite of the Big Johnson t-shirts that were popular in the early 90s) was complaining about having to spend time on this. And this partner thinks he has better things to do. At that point, the conversation went downhill. A few of the lowlights:

1. Greek says to me "Hey, bro." Um, hey? Hay is for horses. Now I know his receptionist has a John Elway like mouth, but really, is that my fault? (Okay, go Google John Elway and look at his smile. Seriously, he could play football, but he smiles like Secretariat.) And bro? Suffice it to say, I have exchanged unpleasantries with this guy before. And he calls me bro. I said, and I am not making this part up "I am not your bro, your pal, your friend or your buddy. Don't call me any of those names. I don't even like you." Look, if you have been to my house, we hang out, and I know something about you other than the fact that you are a Rectum Douche, then you can call my bro, brother, pal, buddy, ole friend, or any other similar name. If I think big, fat, hairy white a** when I hear your name, you should probably stick with calling me by my first name or Mr. X.

2. He then says to me "You are looking for coals. I am looking for diamonds on the beach." Okay, I don't know what this means. Seriously. I have no freaking clue. Diamonds on the beach? I dont know much, but I know diamonds come from underground. I have yet to find a diamond on the beach. I mean, maybe he broke out one of those $750 metal detectors and he found one when he was like 16, pasty white with his gut hanging over his Speedo and he thought he was cool, but I have never found a diamond on the beach. I am pretty sure deBeers does not get their diamonds from the beach either.

As for me, coals? I think I like coal. Its hard so you can pick it up and hurl it at people, hitting them in their twerpy little heads and making it go "thud." Of course, in some people's case, it would make the sound of a rock hitting a hollow piece of wood. I'm not saying some people who are heinys have nothing in their heads, but..........

Of course, coal + pressure = diamond. Okay, a lot of pressure. Over a long period of time. But, it still makes a diamond. So I think dude just said that I can take a decent case and turn it into a diamond. I think so. Or maybe he meant that he and his partner turn coal into diamonds in their tuchus'. I mean, these two guys are so uptight that their voices crack during their radio ads. The only thing worse would be if they threw in a one eyed attorney who can't spell and forgot to take a shower.

Seriously, I think he meant he is looking for high dollar cases. But that leads me to #3.

3. He says "I have over 2,000 active clients." He has 4 attorneys. Do the math. 500 cases per attorney, for those of you who are reading this after 10pm and don't want to do the math. There are two types of law firms: volume and quality. And the two shall never meet. Either you try to make your money on volume or you try to make a living by handling a lower number of quality cases. A quality case could be a diamond. It could be. I have never heard anyone ever refer to it as such, but I guess you could. Anyway, 500 cases per attorney means you are doing a volume practice. And when you charge a client, on average, $2,000, you are making a lot of money. Of course, you have overhead, but the gross income number looks impressive.

But, really, if an attorney have 500 active clients, how much time and attention can any one client get? Lets see, in an 8 hour day, that is 480 minutes of work. That is less than one minute per client per day. That is less than 5 minutes per client per week. That is less than 20 minutes per client per month.

Now, I am not a client of a law firm, but I am pretty sure if I dropped $2,000 on an attorney and the attorney spent an hour on my case in 3 months, I would be one ticked off white dude. In a year, the attorney would spend 4 hours. That is $500 per hour. For some guy who hasn't spent more than 4 hours on my case all year. That doesn't sound like a diamond. Well, maybe diamonique. Maybe some cheap, made in a factory reject diamond. That would about fit in with this guy. I think I saw his Hyundai Diamante next to his Vasio watch next to his Looney and Dourke wallet. Yes, this dude carries a murse.

So, there you go. I was called bro, told he was looking for diamonds on the beach and has some ridiculous number of clients. He was surprised that I wasn't so keen on talking to him. Yeah, funny how I don't like people so much who start in with attacks on me and my client. I would attack his client, but I don't think they would get it. You know, those two syllable words are too much for these folks. These people couldn't even count to 16 to figure out when to file a motion. But go on, attack me. In the meantime, I am going to at least have some blog fodder from Rectum, Little Thing and Dweebs.

Saturday, January 16, 2010

Are you a bad client?

Okay, maybe this should be a regular series. You know, I can be one of those attorneys who blogs, or makes up blogs, and then tries to turn it into a book deal or a job or something inane like that. Or, I could just keep my day job and do this for fun. Oh, and not make crap up. Yeah, I think I like that better. But, this could still be a regular series. Maybe "Thinks that make you go hmmmm....." No wait, that was taken in the 90s as a song title by C&C Music Factory. Wait, I think these folks were so cool that it wasn't C&C it was C+C. You know, the plus instead of the ampersand. Okay, how many of you knew that this "&" was called an ampersand? And how many of you could spell it? LIARS!

How about if I call it "You might be a bad client if........" You know, like you might be a redneck if....... Of course, I can combine the two. You might be a bad client is you are a redneck. Just take out the might. That is a guarantee!

Anyway, here are a few signs you are a bad client:

1. You call 20+ times in two hours. (Notice the use of + like C+C so I could think I am cool.) Yes, today, a Saturday, I had a client call 22 times in 2 hours. That works out to more than once every 6 minutes. It is like a call every 5 1/2 minutes. That is absurd. First, who the heck has that much free time that he/she can dial the phone every 5 1/2 minutes? Second, who doesn't get the point? If I am not in the first 5 times you call, do you think I am suddenly going to be in the for the next 17 times? Sure, I could pick up the phone one of those random times, but odds are against it. And leaving me a message every time that I need to call you does not mean I am going to call you. I may call you on a Saturday. Chances are about 50-50. But once in a while I like to hang with Mr. Cooper. No wait, that is a tv show from the 80s with Marc Curry. Dude was not that funny. Once in a while I like to hang with my family and that means no calls or maybe one call. I made my one call today. No more calls for me!

2. You call and then put me on hold! Look, if you want to talk to me, great. I don't mind talking. I am more than happy to answer your questions. I will even give you a consultation. Its one reason I have blogs. I don't mind giving people information. But, if you think that calling me and then when I answer saying "Can you hold on?" is a good idea, think again. It means to me that you think your time is more important than mine. Sure, there are emergencies that come up, but that shouldn't be the first time we talk. And if you do it to me on the initial consultation or more than once, it means you really think your time is more important than my time. That makes you a bad client. I will respect your time, but please respect mine. I have another client or two who probably wants to talk to me.

3. You drop profanity on me. If you want to use profanity regularly, be my guest. Call your friends and have conversations that go "Hey you mother-bleeper, how the bleep are you bleeping doing? Did you hear what that bleephead Billy did? That dude is one bleeped up bleeper." Do it all freaking day if you want. Just don't call me and start with profanity. Do I use it? Sure. Some punk wants to call me and be an idiot, I will get off the phone and call someone or tell someone that the guy is a BLEEP! But, I don't use it on the phone unless some POC debt collector drops it on me. You know, like the guy who said he wished I was dead. Then it is fair game. But if you are a client, you are not going to impress me by dropping profanity in the conversation. In fact, it is going to make me question whether your going to be able to stay professional during a trial or a hearing or some other proceeding.

I am sure there are more ways that you can be a bad client. As they come up, I am sure I am going to blog about them. And I am sure some of the attorneys who read this will add to it. But please folks, just following these three simple rules will make sure you are not a bad client - or at least be a start. Oh, one more: don't sing Pit Bull to me. Ever. Automatic firing!

Sunday, January 3, 2010

TLC has a little person fetish

I cannot explain it. I don't know that anyone can explain it. What is up with TLC? These folks, or at least the dude in charge of programming, has a fetish with little people, er, dwarfs, er midgets, er really short folks? What exactly do we call them now? Have you watched this channel lately? I would really like to know who is in charge of programming over there. Is anyone?

First, they have Little People, Big World. This is about a family where mom and dad are, not surprisingly, little folks. Apparently, they think it is a big world. I kind of thought it was a little world. I actually thought the world was getting smaller. I guess if you are under 4'6, the world is getting bigger. Are these folks not familiar with the internet? Did they miss Al Gore's invention?

Then, there is Little Couple. Now, one might think that these are the same people. After all, if mom and dad are married and little, they are a little couple. But no, TLC has apparently found a new little couple. Yes, apparently these folks are eager to be on television. I don't know why. Is it in a little person's genes? Its like on Chromosome 22 or something. That is where the height is determined and if the height is under 4'6, you also have a desire to be on TV more than Heidi and Spencer, who by the way needs to be taken out back and whooped. That dude is a train wreck. Sorry, back to the little folks. This woman is a doctor or something and her husband is a "businessman," whatever the heck that means. Does he own a business? Is he a business like LeBron James, LLC? I don't quite understand. What is the deal with him.

Anyway, they then have Dwarf Adoption. Um, hello? Dwarf? Really? Someone is going to name a show Dwarf Adoption? What's next? Dwarf bowling? Dwarf wrestling? I think both of those were outlawed when we turned from the 80s to the 90s. Seriously, when is the last time you saw midget wrestling on WWE or RAW or one of those shows? I remember seeing it in the 80s, but I don't think I have seen it advertised on USA anytime in the last 2 decades. But, apparently if these folks want to adopt, suddenly it is okay to call them dwarfs again. Just because I want to join the circus, does not mean it is okay to start a show called "Cracker Circus."

Seriously, who names these shows? Yes, I want to know. Who comes up with the name of these shows? And how much money do they make? What kind of college degree do you need? Do you even need a college degree or do they take people from Fake Online U in Barbados? I think I could come up with names like this.

Oh, and don't forget that TLC is also home to Toddlers and Tiaras. I recently saw a few minutes of a show where the little girl's name was Kragen. Clearly, that is the name of the store whose parking lot mom and dad were in when she was conceived. I was thinking that they probably meant Pep Boys, but they couldn't figure out who was Manny, Mo or Jack. They were going to go with NAPA as well, but the capital letters confused them.

I really think TLC changed its name from "The Learning Channel" to "Them Little Cuties" and decide that TLC sounded better than "Them Little Cuties." Really, who is programming that station? And did they pass an IQ test?

Just wondering..........