Since those of you who really know me know that I view life as an endless series of battles, much like a klingon from Star Trek, recounting my battle with a virus today will not surprise anyone. Or if it does, well, have a bottle of tequila for me and call it a day.
So I'm browsing around the internet today, looking at news stories, and lo and behold some freaky shit starts happening. First off, Firefox just up and closes down on me and I'm all like WTF BITCH! GET BACK ON THE NET AND MAKE ME A WEBBY PIE!!!! I may have actually screamed that aloud. I'm not sure. My gold fish is looking at me funny. Which is weird, for two reasons. (1) goldfish don't have ears, and (2) I don't have a goldfish.
So next thing I know some wacky shit starts popping up, scanning for viruses and malware and telling me I have all these virii and shit and I'm all like OH NO YOU DIDN'T!!!!!!1111111 Again I may have actually screamed that, including the ones.
Since I knew I didn't actually own XP Security 2011 or whatever the fuck program it was, I was already confused, but what REALLY threw me was the (unregistered version) shit at the top. I was all like HAH NICE TRY BIATCH! ALL MY SHIT'S REGISTERED! In fact, I may have actually registered my last bowel movement with the government, too, just to be safe. Like they say, when the president doesn't know when I last had a shit, the terrorists win.
So now that I knew I had been hijacked by some nasty malware, it was a simple matter to go over to my Avast antivirus software and HEY WTF WHERE'S MY GODDAMN AVAST???? yea, that sneaky malware bitch had gone and removed access to avast, not that it did any good to have it running since that fucking useless pirate slut hadn't detected the malware in the first place, but still, that's just rude. So then I went on the net to research wtf just happened, and EVERY PAGE had a malware warning on it. Yea, that sneaky sonofabitching malware shizzle had gone and cut off access to my intertoobz. That's when the shit hit the fan.
Because nobody, but NOBODY takes away my access to porn.
So I went to my linux box, downloaded rkill and malwarebytes malware remover, transferred them over to my main box, and fuckin destroyed that piece of shit malware intruder muthahfuckah. Oh yea. It's miller time.
Total downtime, roughly an hour, but I spent some of that time outside enjoying the sunshine. Yea, it's goddamn 85 degrees out and YES IT DOES TAKE MALWARE DESTROYING MY COMPUTER TO GET ME TO GO OUTSIDE. Fuck you and the bitch you rode in on. I'm a geek. Sunlight kills.
I also tried to download Spyware doctor, but can you believe that bitch up and FOUND the shit, but wouldn't let me remove it without paying for it first? I was all like FUCK YOU YOU SONOFAWHORE!!!!!! I mean, wtf good does it do me to FIND the shit, that's like going to the doc wit the cancer and the doctor saying all that shit like "yea, we found it. PAY UP BITCH OR I'M NEVER TAKING IT OUT FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK YOOOOOUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
I mean, wtf shit is that? I wouldn't be surprised if those sonsofbitches at Spyware Doctor went and actually made the Xp security 2011 virus to start with. Sons of motherfuckin bitches. I WILL RIP OUT YOUR EYE AND SKULLFUCK THE SOCKET!!!! Take away my access to porn? What. The. FUCK!!!!!
Nobody messes wit me porn. NO BO DEEEEEEEEEEEEE!
Tuesday, May 31, 2011
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
Unemployment Round 2
The Case of the The Vanishing Ennui (narrated with the voice of Humphrey Bogart)
It was a dark and stormy night. Or at least, it should have been. Instead, it was a bright and sunny day as I made my way back to the Unemployment Office for round 2. I'd just got my car back after a week of it being in the shop. Last time I'd gone to the Office, my brakes failed on the way home. I barely made it home alive. This time, I was packing some serious heat.
Mostly because the air conditioning in the car isn't working. Also, I'm fat. And fat people sweat like second-rate drug dealers in a police interrogation room.
I knew there was a problem the minute I walked in. My watch said 1:15. I should have been right on time. But the clock in the Office was 5 minutes fast. I was late. Almost as if... "someone" had set it up that way. After last week's near fatal lack of brakes, I wasn't taking any chances. I took off my clip-on sunglasses so I could see.
There was no one at the reception desk. I waited for what seemed like hours, but it was probably only a few seconds. In that kind of life or death situation, time plays tricks on you. Finally, an old lady waddled up to the desk. Her hair was soft and grey and curly like the fur of a thousand year old poodle. She told me to go into the room behind me. She pointed. I spun around faster than a rattlesnake on a merry-go-round.
Just as I suspected. The orientation had already started.
I sauntered in like I owned the place. Since I'm a taxpayer, that is technically partially correct. All eyes turned to me as I walked in. The instructor's glare might have stopped my heart, if I had stopped to look at her. Instead, I saw... HER.
Our eyes met across the room. The slight smile splitting her maw would have looked more at home on a crocodile in clown face-paint. Her eyes were like the bottomless cesspits of calcutta, brown and murky and full of things you can't get rid of, not even with penicillin. Her lips were the frothy red of a freshly gutted catfish after a spring rain. She was beautiful.
But I dared not tip my hand so early in the game. If anyone had cut my brake lines last week, it might have been her. She had an air about her, an air like the stench a fetid swamp spews forth when you pull a rotting deer carcass from the muck. Or maybe she just had gas.
The mechanic hadn't said one way or another if the brake lines on my car had been cut. I just assumed. In my line of work, you can never be too careful. I took a seat on the other side of the room.
The orientation, if that's what you call what went on there that day, seemed to pass quickly. I spent it staring at her ass as it sat in the chair, dreaming of what could be. I learned very little in my time there, mostly that I should have been keeping a written record of my job search. I say, records are for timid housewives and men in polka-dotted bowties and fancy suits. I was lucky I was wearing pants.
At the end of the orientation, the old woman doing the talking demanded my papers. My papers! This wasn't Nazi Germany, under the control of the Gestapo! This was America, and by God, I wasn't about to submit to any strip search without a good cause. She told me a strip search wouldn't be necessary, but the look in her eyes told me otherwise. I knew if I didn't hand her my papers, they'd single me out as a troublemaker, and I'd never close the case. I folded like an accordion in the hands of a demented 6-year old trying to play "Moon River."
I sat by myself in the waiting area, knowing I'd soon be called before the Big Boss. I was going over my notes, but frankly, I couldn't read them. Was that a Q? Why didn't I invest in those shorthand classes?
Then SHE sat down near me. I knew she wanted me like a lion wants young gazelle for sunday brunch. But I wasn't on the menu. She was like a flaming toxic tornado of lust, and I wasn't getting caught up in her storm. It was time to go in for the kill.
"Shorry shweetheart." i said to her, packing up my things. "You're a nine, and I only sleep with tens." And with that, the Big Boss called me. As I walked away, never looking back, I heard her heart break with a sound like the shattering of a hundred mirrors. Or maybe she'd just thrown a shoe at me and missed. I ran, ducking swiftly into the Big Boss's Office.
The Big Boss turned out to be a frail old lady. She asked me if I had any questions. A million thoughts crowded into my brain at once. What's the meaning of life? Why are we here on this planet? What is to be my destiny? Why do they put DO NOT REMOVE on those tags on pillows if everyone just tears them off anyway? But I couldn't ask her all these things. She looked like someone's grandmother. Not mine. Someone else's.
"No." I said, putting all the desperate losses of her many helpless victims into that one word. "No." I repeated. She got the message. I knew I wouldn't have any more trouble from her.
My brakes didn't fail on the ride home.
It was a dark and stormy night. Or at least, it should have been. Instead, it was a bright and sunny day as I made my way back to the Unemployment Office for round 2. I'd just got my car back after a week of it being in the shop. Last time I'd gone to the Office, my brakes failed on the way home. I barely made it home alive. This time, I was packing some serious heat.
Mostly because the air conditioning in the car isn't working. Also, I'm fat. And fat people sweat like second-rate drug dealers in a police interrogation room.
I knew there was a problem the minute I walked in. My watch said 1:15. I should have been right on time. But the clock in the Office was 5 minutes fast. I was late. Almost as if... "someone" had set it up that way. After last week's near fatal lack of brakes, I wasn't taking any chances. I took off my clip-on sunglasses so I could see.
There was no one at the reception desk. I waited for what seemed like hours, but it was probably only a few seconds. In that kind of life or death situation, time plays tricks on you. Finally, an old lady waddled up to the desk. Her hair was soft and grey and curly like the fur of a thousand year old poodle. She told me to go into the room behind me. She pointed. I spun around faster than a rattlesnake on a merry-go-round.
Just as I suspected. The orientation had already started.
I sauntered in like I owned the place. Since I'm a taxpayer, that is technically partially correct. All eyes turned to me as I walked in. The instructor's glare might have stopped my heart, if I had stopped to look at her. Instead, I saw... HER.
Our eyes met across the room. The slight smile splitting her maw would have looked more at home on a crocodile in clown face-paint. Her eyes were like the bottomless cesspits of calcutta, brown and murky and full of things you can't get rid of, not even with penicillin. Her lips were the frothy red of a freshly gutted catfish after a spring rain. She was beautiful.
But I dared not tip my hand so early in the game. If anyone had cut my brake lines last week, it might have been her. She had an air about her, an air like the stench a fetid swamp spews forth when you pull a rotting deer carcass from the muck. Or maybe she just had gas.
The mechanic hadn't said one way or another if the brake lines on my car had been cut. I just assumed. In my line of work, you can never be too careful. I took a seat on the other side of the room.
The orientation, if that's what you call what went on there that day, seemed to pass quickly. I spent it staring at her ass as it sat in the chair, dreaming of what could be. I learned very little in my time there, mostly that I should have been keeping a written record of my job search. I say, records are for timid housewives and men in polka-dotted bowties and fancy suits. I was lucky I was wearing pants.
At the end of the orientation, the old woman doing the talking demanded my papers. My papers! This wasn't Nazi Germany, under the control of the Gestapo! This was America, and by God, I wasn't about to submit to any strip search without a good cause. She told me a strip search wouldn't be necessary, but the look in her eyes told me otherwise. I knew if I didn't hand her my papers, they'd single me out as a troublemaker, and I'd never close the case. I folded like an accordion in the hands of a demented 6-year old trying to play "Moon River."
I sat by myself in the waiting area, knowing I'd soon be called before the Big Boss. I was going over my notes, but frankly, I couldn't read them. Was that a Q? Why didn't I invest in those shorthand classes?
Then SHE sat down near me. I knew she wanted me like a lion wants young gazelle for sunday brunch. But I wasn't on the menu. She was like a flaming toxic tornado of lust, and I wasn't getting caught up in her storm. It was time to go in for the kill.
"Shorry shweetheart." i said to her, packing up my things. "You're a nine, and I only sleep with tens." And with that, the Big Boss called me. As I walked away, never looking back, I heard her heart break with a sound like the shattering of a hundred mirrors. Or maybe she'd just thrown a shoe at me and missed. I ran, ducking swiftly into the Big Boss's Office.
The Big Boss turned out to be a frail old lady. She asked me if I had any questions. A million thoughts crowded into my brain at once. What's the meaning of life? Why are we here on this planet? What is to be my destiny? Why do they put DO NOT REMOVE on those tags on pillows if everyone just tears them off anyway? But I couldn't ask her all these things. She looked like someone's grandmother. Not mine. Someone else's.
"No." I said, putting all the desperate losses of her many helpless victims into that one word. "No." I repeated. She got the message. I knew I wouldn't have any more trouble from her.
My brakes didn't fail on the ride home.
Saturday, May 21, 2011
The End of the World is NIGH!
"Nigh" means near, in case you don't know.
So I heard the end of the world is tomorrow. Or, wait, no, not the end of the world, per se. Tomorrow is "The Rapture." as I understand it. So, what's supposed to happen is, the "faithful" are going to be magically called home, and then 5 months of strife will follow this time, and then the world will end in earthquakes and upheavals and you know, end of the world type stuff.
These sorts of end of the world things are pretty normal this type of year. Everyone's been ripping on it, pretty much. David Letterman, Bill Maher, you know, anyone with a sarcastic, sardonic sense of humor has been making fun of it.
But then, I got worried. You see, "Macho Man" Randy Savage got called home. I'm not sure what the proper form of the verb is, whether I'm supposed to say, he got raptured, or he joined the rapture, or he was rapturized, or whatever, but come on. The man was a wrestling legend and he's driving behind the wheel of his car and BAM next thing you know, he's gone and the car hits a tree and his wife, who was in the passenger seat, is FINE. Minor scratches. What else can you call that? I mean seriously, the man is driving along, probably chatting to his wife, next thing you know, he's gone forever and she's going "oh, damn, I broke a nail. You all right hon? Randy?!?" Yea.
Now, I hear New Guinea just had a 6.5 earthquake. I thought there was supposed to be 5 months before the earthquakes? :-o
Maybe they meant 5 hours. Damn.
Still, if that means Macho Man Randy Savage is leading god's armies in the final battle against the minions of hell, I'm IN! Got my slim jim and everything!
OOHHHHHH YEEEEAAAAAAAAAA BABY!!!!!!
THE END IS NIGH!!! REPENT!!! REEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEPENT!!!!
Repent, I believe, mean to pent a second time. What pent means, I have no idea.
PS: This post is by no means making fun of wrestling legend Randy Savage's death. Me and all my comrades shall wear our spandex tights in honor at the local bar this evening, and have many many fine drinks in his honor. I suggest a memorial drink, appropriately titled "The Slim Jim" or "The Macho Man" be created, of equal parts vodka, tequila, and whiskey, and every time we drink one, we can remember our dear wrestling hero, and then, remember nothing more for the evening.
So I heard the end of the world is tomorrow. Or, wait, no, not the end of the world, per se. Tomorrow is "The Rapture." as I understand it. So, what's supposed to happen is, the "faithful" are going to be magically called home, and then 5 months of strife will follow this time, and then the world will end in earthquakes and upheavals and you know, end of the world type stuff.
These sorts of end of the world things are pretty normal this type of year. Everyone's been ripping on it, pretty much. David Letterman, Bill Maher, you know, anyone with a sarcastic, sardonic sense of humor has been making fun of it.
But then, I got worried. You see, "Macho Man" Randy Savage got called home. I'm not sure what the proper form of the verb is, whether I'm supposed to say, he got raptured, or he joined the rapture, or he was rapturized, or whatever, but come on. The man was a wrestling legend and he's driving behind the wheel of his car and BAM next thing you know, he's gone and the car hits a tree and his wife, who was in the passenger seat, is FINE. Minor scratches. What else can you call that? I mean seriously, the man is driving along, probably chatting to his wife, next thing you know, he's gone forever and she's going "oh, damn, I broke a nail. You all right hon? Randy?!?" Yea.
Now, I hear New Guinea just had a 6.5 earthquake. I thought there was supposed to be 5 months before the earthquakes? :-o
Maybe they meant 5 hours. Damn.
Still, if that means Macho Man Randy Savage is leading god's armies in the final battle against the minions of hell, I'm IN! Got my slim jim and everything!
OOHHHHHH YEEEEAAAAAAAAAA BABY!!!!!!
THE END IS NIGH!!! REPENT!!! REEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEPENT!!!!
Repent, I believe, mean to pent a second time. What pent means, I have no idea.
PS: This post is by no means making fun of wrestling legend Randy Savage's death. Me and all my comrades shall wear our spandex tights in honor at the local bar this evening, and have many many fine drinks in his honor. I suggest a memorial drink, appropriately titled "The Slim Jim" or "The Macho Man" be created, of equal parts vodka, tequila, and whiskey, and every time we drink one, we can remember our dear wrestling hero, and then, remember nothing more for the evening.
Monday, May 16, 2011
Salt and Pepperers, I mean, Predators
If you haven't liberally splrinkled predators on your chicken, now is the time to start!
So I saw a couple movies this past weekend. Salt, with Angelina Jolie, was one of them. At least, I think it was this past weekend. What with being on Unemployment now, I'm going to have to scale back my cable bill something fierce, so I am trying to watch everything I can while I've still got the extra channels. At the rate they show new movies, I figure I've got about 6 months to find a new job before I start missing some good movies. OR, I can be out of work for two years and catch them on basic cable, but then I have to deal with commercials. Ick!
Just as an aside, are commercials really making anyone money? I mean, seriously? Some company spends 20 million dollars on a huge advertising campaign spread over multiple times and channels and they get what... two bored rich dopey housewives thinking a dyson vacuum cleaner is better than a hoover, or whatever? So they buy a couple $100 vacuum cleaners? How is this making anyone money? I don't get it. OH right, the advertising companies, and the cable companies are BOTH being paid to make and air these commercials, so OF COURSE they are making someone money. Just, not the company who is probably being told by the cable and advertising companies that they simply MUST pay for air time with a commercial. Hmmmm. Pretty slick con, there.
So, back to Salt. Spoilers to follow, obviously. Angelina Jolie stars as a CIA agent with a murky past who finds out ... actually you know I am a little confused by this whole movie. Now don't get me wrong, this movie is pretty much all action, and it flows very quickly from one action sequence to the next. I enjoyed watching it, and it even passed the rewatchability test, since I happened upon it again after watching it the first time and immedieately starting watching it again. But here's my problem.
Evelyn Salt is in the CIA. She falls in love with a guy who she was using as a cover on a single mission. She marries the guy. A russian agent comes to the CIA one day, supposedly to defect and give up russian secrets. Why the CIA cares about russian secrets at this point in time, I have no idea. But this russian agent fingers Salt as a deep-cover double agent, and says someone is going to kill the russian president. Apparently, this man's story is so convincing, even as Salt is interrogating him, that the CIA decides to imprison Salt, one of their own agents, just to make sure she's NOT a double agent or mole or whatever. Salt escapes, kills the Russian Premier or president or whoever the hell it is that runs russia, then meets up with the russian agent, who has also managed to escape. Yes, apparently she WAS a double agent all along. Then, she finds out they have her husband captive, and they promptly kill her husband to test her loyalty. Makes perfect sense. She proves her loyalty by NOT slaughtering all of them when she sees her husband killed. Then, apparently moments later, she DOES slaughter all of them, apparently for killing her husband. Makes sense, I suppose. If you love the cardboard cutout guy they have in this movie as "the husband," then she should lull the enemy into a false sense of security, then slaughter them when they least expect it, which is apparently mere moments after they DID expect it. But that's not where my main issue is. We learn very late in the movie that she actually did NOT kill the russian president, only put him into a state resembling death. Now, if her husband isn't actually slain until AFTER she does this, why does she not actually kill the russian president? How does she know in advance that they are going to kill her husband? That's where I am confused.
But anyway, I left most of the good parts out, and Salt is really a decent movie. The only real problem I have with it is Angelina Jolie isn't naked at all, really. Just a short scene at the beginning where she's in her bra and panties, and that wasn't even long enough for me to get half erect, let alone fap to it. But I guess if she's getting older and is less confident about her body, then becoming an action star is probably a decent way to go. Now on to Predators.
I'm a scientist by training. I've also got a minor in anthropology. So I'm understandably interested in alien biology, and the cultures that come along with it. Since I don't have actual alien species to study, I have to make do with the imaginings of other creative people. The movie Aliens, for example, gives me a lot of background on the biology of Aliens. The Predator series of movies has more of a cultural bent to it, hinting at a technologically advanced species that loves to hunt and take trophies, and gives my anthropological interests something to gnaw on for a while. Obviously, the combining of these two species in such movies as Aliens Vs Predator was an awesome idea as far as I am concerned, no matter how badly the two movies turned out. I hope they make more. But for now I have Predators.
So a varied cast of human soldiers / armed villains is dropped into the jungle. Apparently, each of these individuals was going about their normal daily routines when they were "abducted" by the Predators, then dropped into the jungle with the express purpose of being something for the Predators to hunt. I forget the individual actors' names, but I think Danny Trejo was the colombian assassin guy, who I wish had lasted longer since he's such a great character actor, and these was some sniper chick whose name I can't remember but did have a really nice behind, as one of the other guys tells her. And apparently the most badass of all the soldiers is, i think his name is Adrian Brody (imdb.com just confirmed it). Now, having just seen this actor in Spliced as a geeky geneticist, I have a particularly hard time seeing him as some bad-ass special ops guy who's had a life of killing and maiming. Obviously the guys been working out, but his supposedly ripped physique is more reminiscent of a teenage boy whose hormones have finally burned off his baby fat than the scarred, solid body of a trained killer. I don't know how hard he wanted this role to work, but I just couldn't buy it. I hope he's gone back to playing professors and geeky geneticists since this role because seriously, he does not play beefy killers well.
Aside from the completely unbelievable Adrain Brody, Lawrence Fishburne pops up as a survivor who's managed to kill multiple predators and has been living off of scavenged food for ten "seasons," however long that is, since we later discover the jungle is actually on an alien planet. He's also chubby. How a scavenger, living in a place where it's kill or be killed, where almost no one lasts for ONE season, let alone ten, has managed to stay fat as a banker on wall street, well, I have no idea. Since I didn't see anyone eating in the movie at ALL except him, i have no idea where he scavenged enough food. He's also managed to obtain one of the predator's cloaking devices, but isn't smart enough to use it to save his own life. I don't get that. Eh.
However, we do learn a teensy bit more about predator culture, if not the technology, and the music score for the entire movie is EXACTLY the same one used in the original Predator with Arnold Schwarzenegger (i hope i spelled his name right), so it wasn't too bad. There was a pretty decent yakuza guy wielding a samurai sword that managed to take out one predator in single combat, which was awesome, but died in the process, which was unfortunate, since he was the only character i liked.
I don't really know what that says about me personally, but I love the guy's only line in pretty much the whole movie. He picks up a samurai sword that Lawrence fishburne apparently scavenged, and comments about how old it is. One of the other guys says "I didn't even know you spoke english. why haven't you said anything before now?" To which, the yakuza guy holds up his left hand, which is missing two fingers, and says "I talk too much." Awesome line. Also, he pulls a "I'm going to engage the predators chasing us in single combat while you guys get away" thing like the indian guy did in Predator, and by way of saying goodbye, he just nods his head to the side, and adrian brody just nods back. Total guy moment. Awesome. lol
Aside from being as much like the first Predator movie as possible without ripping off the same exact plot line, it was a decent movie. I'm hoping they make a Predators 2 or 3 movie (since predator 2 starring danny glover was made years back, and was much better than this movie).
Given the choice, I'd honestly rather see Predators, because I'm a sci fi geek, and totally despite Salt being the better made movie. I haven't even tried rewatching predators again. Maybe I'm worried it won't pass the rewatchability test, because I'll just be picking apart adrian brody's lines because he's acting like a tough guy and it's so totally see through as him just ACTING like a tough guy. Come to think of it, if I had to bet on a fight between Angelina Jolie and Adrian Brody, I'd bet on Angelina Jolie. lol
Anyone want to put a $20 on this? Let's get this fight going. I got twenty on angelina, not that she'll win, because that's pretty much a foregone conclusion, but that adrian is crying like a baby in under a minute. Anyone think he'll last longer?
So I saw a couple movies this past weekend. Salt, with Angelina Jolie, was one of them. At least, I think it was this past weekend. What with being on Unemployment now, I'm going to have to scale back my cable bill something fierce, so I am trying to watch everything I can while I've still got the extra channels. At the rate they show new movies, I figure I've got about 6 months to find a new job before I start missing some good movies. OR, I can be out of work for two years and catch them on basic cable, but then I have to deal with commercials. Ick!
Just as an aside, are commercials really making anyone money? I mean, seriously? Some company spends 20 million dollars on a huge advertising campaign spread over multiple times and channels and they get what... two bored rich dopey housewives thinking a dyson vacuum cleaner is better than a hoover, or whatever? So they buy a couple $100 vacuum cleaners? How is this making anyone money? I don't get it. OH right, the advertising companies, and the cable companies are BOTH being paid to make and air these commercials, so OF COURSE they are making someone money. Just, not the company who is probably being told by the cable and advertising companies that they simply MUST pay for air time with a commercial. Hmmmm. Pretty slick con, there.
So, back to Salt. Spoilers to follow, obviously. Angelina Jolie stars as a CIA agent with a murky past who finds out ... actually you know I am a little confused by this whole movie. Now don't get me wrong, this movie is pretty much all action, and it flows very quickly from one action sequence to the next. I enjoyed watching it, and it even passed the rewatchability test, since I happened upon it again after watching it the first time and immedieately starting watching it again. But here's my problem.
Evelyn Salt is in the CIA. She falls in love with a guy who she was using as a cover on a single mission. She marries the guy. A russian agent comes to the CIA one day, supposedly to defect and give up russian secrets. Why the CIA cares about russian secrets at this point in time, I have no idea. But this russian agent fingers Salt as a deep-cover double agent, and says someone is going to kill the russian president. Apparently, this man's story is so convincing, even as Salt is interrogating him, that the CIA decides to imprison Salt, one of their own agents, just to make sure she's NOT a double agent or mole or whatever. Salt escapes, kills the Russian Premier or president or whoever the hell it is that runs russia, then meets up with the russian agent, who has also managed to escape. Yes, apparently she WAS a double agent all along. Then, she finds out they have her husband captive, and they promptly kill her husband to test her loyalty. Makes perfect sense. She proves her loyalty by NOT slaughtering all of them when she sees her husband killed. Then, apparently moments later, she DOES slaughter all of them, apparently for killing her husband. Makes sense, I suppose. If you love the cardboard cutout guy they have in this movie as "the husband," then she should lull the enemy into a false sense of security, then slaughter them when they least expect it, which is apparently mere moments after they DID expect it. But that's not where my main issue is. We learn very late in the movie that she actually did NOT kill the russian president, only put him into a state resembling death. Now, if her husband isn't actually slain until AFTER she does this, why does she not actually kill the russian president? How does she know in advance that they are going to kill her husband? That's where I am confused.
But anyway, I left most of the good parts out, and Salt is really a decent movie. The only real problem I have with it is Angelina Jolie isn't naked at all, really. Just a short scene at the beginning where she's in her bra and panties, and that wasn't even long enough for me to get half erect, let alone fap to it. But I guess if she's getting older and is less confident about her body, then becoming an action star is probably a decent way to go. Now on to Predators.
I'm a scientist by training. I've also got a minor in anthropology. So I'm understandably interested in alien biology, and the cultures that come along with it. Since I don't have actual alien species to study, I have to make do with the imaginings of other creative people. The movie Aliens, for example, gives me a lot of background on the biology of Aliens. The Predator series of movies has more of a cultural bent to it, hinting at a technologically advanced species that loves to hunt and take trophies, and gives my anthropological interests something to gnaw on for a while. Obviously, the combining of these two species in such movies as Aliens Vs Predator was an awesome idea as far as I am concerned, no matter how badly the two movies turned out. I hope they make more. But for now I have Predators.
So a varied cast of human soldiers / armed villains is dropped into the jungle. Apparently, each of these individuals was going about their normal daily routines when they were "abducted" by the Predators, then dropped into the jungle with the express purpose of being something for the Predators to hunt. I forget the individual actors' names, but I think Danny Trejo was the colombian assassin guy, who I wish had lasted longer since he's such a great character actor, and these was some sniper chick whose name I can't remember but did have a really nice behind, as one of the other guys tells her. And apparently the most badass of all the soldiers is, i think his name is Adrian Brody (imdb.com just confirmed it). Now, having just seen this actor in Spliced as a geeky geneticist, I have a particularly hard time seeing him as some bad-ass special ops guy who's had a life of killing and maiming. Obviously the guys been working out, but his supposedly ripped physique is more reminiscent of a teenage boy whose hormones have finally burned off his baby fat than the scarred, solid body of a trained killer. I don't know how hard he wanted this role to work, but I just couldn't buy it. I hope he's gone back to playing professors and geeky geneticists since this role because seriously, he does not play beefy killers well.
Aside from the completely unbelievable Adrain Brody, Lawrence Fishburne pops up as a survivor who's managed to kill multiple predators and has been living off of scavenged food for ten "seasons," however long that is, since we later discover the jungle is actually on an alien planet. He's also chubby. How a scavenger, living in a place where it's kill or be killed, where almost no one lasts for ONE season, let alone ten, has managed to stay fat as a banker on wall street, well, I have no idea. Since I didn't see anyone eating in the movie at ALL except him, i have no idea where he scavenged enough food. He's also managed to obtain one of the predator's cloaking devices, but isn't smart enough to use it to save his own life. I don't get that. Eh.
However, we do learn a teensy bit more about predator culture, if not the technology, and the music score for the entire movie is EXACTLY the same one used in the original Predator with Arnold Schwarzenegger (i hope i spelled his name right), so it wasn't too bad. There was a pretty decent yakuza guy wielding a samurai sword that managed to take out one predator in single combat, which was awesome, but died in the process, which was unfortunate, since he was the only character i liked.
I don't really know what that says about me personally, but I love the guy's only line in pretty much the whole movie. He picks up a samurai sword that Lawrence fishburne apparently scavenged, and comments about how old it is. One of the other guys says "I didn't even know you spoke english. why haven't you said anything before now?" To which, the yakuza guy holds up his left hand, which is missing two fingers, and says "I talk too much." Awesome line. Also, he pulls a "I'm going to engage the predators chasing us in single combat while you guys get away" thing like the indian guy did in Predator, and by way of saying goodbye, he just nods his head to the side, and adrian brody just nods back. Total guy moment. Awesome. lol
Aside from being as much like the first Predator movie as possible without ripping off the same exact plot line, it was a decent movie. I'm hoping they make a Predators 2 or 3 movie (since predator 2 starring danny glover was made years back, and was much better than this movie).
Given the choice, I'd honestly rather see Predators, because I'm a sci fi geek, and totally despite Salt being the better made movie. I haven't even tried rewatching predators again. Maybe I'm worried it won't pass the rewatchability test, because I'll just be picking apart adrian brody's lines because he's acting like a tough guy and it's so totally see through as him just ACTING like a tough guy. Come to think of it, if I had to bet on a fight between Angelina Jolie and Adrian Brody, I'd bet on Angelina Jolie. lol
Anyone want to put a $20 on this? Let's get this fight going. I got twenty on angelina, not that she'll win, because that's pretty much a foregone conclusion, but that adrian is crying like a baby in under a minute. Anyone think he'll last longer?
Saturday, May 14, 2011
Unemployment! Week 1
So I'm on Unemployment beneifts now. I will keep a weekly log of my benefits just in case the one guy who reads my blog (or the aliens that discover the last working linux internet server walled up in a crumbling office building a thousand years from now) needs to know how unemployment works. Basically, the office is doing everything it can NOT to pay you these benefits. It asks you to fill out forms. Attend meetings. Stop fapping off in the gas station off of i-90. Jump through hoops. And if you can't jump through hoops on command it wants a valid doctor's note explaining why. in triplicate. For every guy that gives up in despair, it saves TONS of money that can line the politician's well-lined pockets.
For those of us who are legitimately out of work because our boss mishandled the business so badly that it can't afford to pay us anymore, well, that just sucks. I started working on my job search pretty much on the ride home from work on the day that I got laid off. I don't expect to have an issue finding a job, but I am prepared to be in it for the long haul. If I get a job the second week I am off, great, and if it takes a year, fine. I view this whole jumping through hoops process like the DRM on most gaming CD's. A hacker who pirates the game can be playing it in 15 minutes after it's released. Guys like me, who purchase it legally, have to wait 5 days for customer service to email me back about a missing CD key that wasn't included when I purchased my digitized collector's edition issue with the included world map (and figurine!), only to be told that the collector's item CD keys are all invalid and I need to refund my purchase and re-order it through another company that will take 15 business days to walk it to my house via an old guy with a bad limp. You're only screwing over the good people.
So the first hurdle I easily leapt over was the whole debit card issue. Now, last time I was on unemployment, oh, ten years back, we didn't have these things, I don't think. Basically, unemployment can pay you via debit card. In order to check your funds, access your card, or you know, actually use the thing, there can be FEES. Yea so how this works, and forgive me if I sound a little jaded here, but I've seen this too many times to be surprised, basically the bank gets money every time you need to use your card in a certain way. My guess is, the bank pays a portion of those fees, or perhaps a hefty bribe, to the unemployment office in the first place, and then they recollect that fee from YOU, the poor sap who is ALREADY out of work, short of cash, screwed out of your medical benefits, and now you have to pay a bank just to check and make sure you have enough money to feed your kids this week. I tell ya, if I had kids, I'd kill them just to save them the trouble of dealing with these jagoffs. Lucky me, I have a bank account. Everything goes into that. Hurdle one done with.
This coming week's hurdle isn't what it should be about. It SHOULD be about finding a job. That would make sense. But it's not. This week's hurdle is about FINDING the unemployment OFFICE so i can attend some stupid seminar and have a meet and greet with some schmuck who's going to tell me that i'm out of work and i need to look for a job. NO SHIT DUMBASS. But the meeting's not the problem. I'd love to go back and get some additional schooling in my field, and sure i'd love a few pointers on some hot jobs out there. Mind you, the unemployment place doesn't HAVE these things. They have resume writing seminars, and cover letter writing seminars and seminars on how to properly tie your fucking shoes if you've never been on an interview before in your entire fucking life, and yes, I know, there are some fucking morons out there who need these things. No offense to any morons out there, but I don't need those things. It's like sending a genius to remedial math to relearn adding 1 and 1. TOTAL WASTE OF GODDAMN TIME. But if i don't go, and they say this every time they want me to jump through a new hoop, it's "FAILURE TO ATTEND MAY RESULT IN SUSPENSION OF YOUR PAYMENTS." Yea, fuckstick. I get it. If I want to eat this week, I have to attend your sleepy little tard-meet. Got it. But I digress. The meeting is not the problem. I can sleep through that.
The problem is... the office doesn't EXIST. Yea. They give me an address... which, according to google maps, is nowhere NEAR a corner. I look up the address. There's nothing there like what is described in the directions to get there. THEN, they tell me that it's ON a corner. On the corner of fucking MAIN street, no less. yea, exactly. Google maps shows no corner, no main street, and nothing even remotely resembling what is described IN this letter that the dept of labor sent me. Also, it says right IN the goddamn letter that my GPS isn't going to be able to find it.
Wtf is this shit? Am I heading into an open field with a bunch of other lost jobless folks, driving around, getting stuck in the mud, while some moronic asswipe is sitting in a coffee shop down the street with a pair of binoculars, watching us and laughing his goddamn ass off, while i futz around trying to find this nonexistant place? Whose goddamn idea at the dept of labor WAS this shit? Were they all standing around the water coolors last week, going "Where do we host the next unemployment seminar? That gay biker bar again?" "HAH! That was a good one! Oh wait I know, let's host it at the Mickie D's that gets robbed every other day!" "Dude! That's genius!" "WAIT! I've GOT IT!!!! An EMPTY FILED!!" "Dude... you rock. You are my god." "Yes. Yes, I know."
I swear, it's no damn wonder my state is millions (or was that billions?) of dollars over budget. Moe, Larry and Curly could run things better.
For those of us who are legitimately out of work because our boss mishandled the business so badly that it can't afford to pay us anymore, well, that just sucks. I started working on my job search pretty much on the ride home from work on the day that I got laid off. I don't expect to have an issue finding a job, but I am prepared to be in it for the long haul. If I get a job the second week I am off, great, and if it takes a year, fine. I view this whole jumping through hoops process like the DRM on most gaming CD's. A hacker who pirates the game can be playing it in 15 minutes after it's released. Guys like me, who purchase it legally, have to wait 5 days for customer service to email me back about a missing CD key that wasn't included when I purchased my digitized collector's edition issue with the included world map (and figurine!), only to be told that the collector's item CD keys are all invalid and I need to refund my purchase and re-order it through another company that will take 15 business days to walk it to my house via an old guy with a bad limp. You're only screwing over the good people.
So the first hurdle I easily leapt over was the whole debit card issue. Now, last time I was on unemployment, oh, ten years back, we didn't have these things, I don't think. Basically, unemployment can pay you via debit card. In order to check your funds, access your card, or you know, actually use the thing, there can be FEES. Yea so how this works, and forgive me if I sound a little jaded here, but I've seen this too many times to be surprised, basically the bank gets money every time you need to use your card in a certain way. My guess is, the bank pays a portion of those fees, or perhaps a hefty bribe, to the unemployment office in the first place, and then they recollect that fee from YOU, the poor sap who is ALREADY out of work, short of cash, screwed out of your medical benefits, and now you have to pay a bank just to check and make sure you have enough money to feed your kids this week. I tell ya, if I had kids, I'd kill them just to save them the trouble of dealing with these jagoffs. Lucky me, I have a bank account. Everything goes into that. Hurdle one done with.
This coming week's hurdle isn't what it should be about. It SHOULD be about finding a job. That would make sense. But it's not. This week's hurdle is about FINDING the unemployment OFFICE so i can attend some stupid seminar and have a meet and greet with some schmuck who's going to tell me that i'm out of work and i need to look for a job. NO SHIT DUMBASS. But the meeting's not the problem. I'd love to go back and get some additional schooling in my field, and sure i'd love a few pointers on some hot jobs out there. Mind you, the unemployment place doesn't HAVE these things. They have resume writing seminars, and cover letter writing seminars and seminars on how to properly tie your fucking shoes if you've never been on an interview before in your entire fucking life, and yes, I know, there are some fucking morons out there who need these things. No offense to any morons out there, but I don't need those things. It's like sending a genius to remedial math to relearn adding 1 and 1. TOTAL WASTE OF GODDAMN TIME. But if i don't go, and they say this every time they want me to jump through a new hoop, it's "FAILURE TO ATTEND MAY RESULT IN SUSPENSION OF YOUR PAYMENTS." Yea, fuckstick. I get it. If I want to eat this week, I have to attend your sleepy little tard-meet. Got it. But I digress. The meeting is not the problem. I can sleep through that.
The problem is... the office doesn't EXIST. Yea. They give me an address... which, according to google maps, is nowhere NEAR a corner. I look up the address. There's nothing there like what is described in the directions to get there. THEN, they tell me that it's ON a corner. On the corner of fucking MAIN street, no less. yea, exactly. Google maps shows no corner, no main street, and nothing even remotely resembling what is described IN this letter that the dept of labor sent me. Also, it says right IN the goddamn letter that my GPS isn't going to be able to find it.
Wtf is this shit? Am I heading into an open field with a bunch of other lost jobless folks, driving around, getting stuck in the mud, while some moronic asswipe is sitting in a coffee shop down the street with a pair of binoculars, watching us and laughing his goddamn ass off, while i futz around trying to find this nonexistant place? Whose goddamn idea at the dept of labor WAS this shit? Were they all standing around the water coolors last week, going "Where do we host the next unemployment seminar? That gay biker bar again?" "HAH! That was a good one! Oh wait I know, let's host it at the Mickie D's that gets robbed every other day!" "Dude! That's genius!" "WAIT! I've GOT IT!!!! An EMPTY FILED!!" "Dude... you rock. You are my god." "Yes. Yes, I know."
I swear, it's no damn wonder my state is millions (or was that billions?) of dollars over budget. Moe, Larry and Curly could run things better.
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
Slow News... Week?
So a week ago I broke one of my own rules...
I posted about politics. I know, I know, I should have left it to people who care. Instead, I espoused my own views of what the truth might be. A few hours later, I was laid off from my job of six and a half years. Coincidence? You can decide for yourself. Me, I think it's all an elaborate plot by right-wing neo-republican commandos hellbent on destroying the one voice of reason in a sea of frothing madness. HELLBENT, I SAY!!!
No, I don't really believe that. I do, however, wonder what the hell a neo-republican commando is. Sounds like a fun day job.
So the other day, my oldest sister is screaming at my mom for something stupid. It's nothing unusual, of course, that's my oldest sister's job. No, really, it's right in her job description, she gets paid to scream at my mom for stupid things. This time, both my mom and I heard my sister say she'd cook dinner that night. However, my sister says she had said no such thing. Fine, so both mom and I heard her wrong on two separate occasions. Unlikely, sure. I know, you guys know her reputation for lying her ass off, and maybe she was, but what do I care? I just had six years of stress removed from my shoulders by being freed from the oppressive cubicle hell I was in. I was feeling great. So mom starts cooking. But this isn't enough for my sister, OH NOES MISTER BILL. She's insistent on screaming at my mother for DARING to even THINK she'd said she'd cook. Now, since my mom is recovering from a stroke, I'm thinking, hey, maybe screaming at her non stop is probably a bad idea. I politely ask my sister to stop. I even say please. Didn't even raise my voice. My sister screams at me to shut up and glares at me like her glare is some sort of alien death ray and I'm just going to keel over. Lucky for me, she's sadly mistaken. I politely asked her to stop once more.
The next morning, my sister is packed up and gone. Why? She felt... "threatened." I guess I must have left my zipper open and she was threatened by my flopping manhood, because, let's face it... I'm a computer geek. I'm about as violent as Matthew Broderick in... well... any role he's ever played, I think. I make Woody Allen look like a serial killer. Come to think of it, he probably is. At any rate, I've somehow managed to cause a family squabble, because my sister thinks she should be allowed to scream at my mom, and get this... because my other sister and I have arguments with my mom. Yes, that's right. She's demanding her own chance to give my mom another stroke. And she insists she has that right. I know, it's like saying because someone else buys a gun, my sister has the right to shoot 17 people in a 5 state killing spree. The way her mind works, it doesn't surprise me.
So I've started my job search. Sort of jump started it, you could say. I get up this morning intent on finishing the updating of my resume, and I've already got a message waiting for me about a job. Now I hadn't even finished updating my resume at this point, let alone sent it out to anyone. I'm understandably confused. So I have a phone interview about a possible job I'm not really suited for. I'm probably not going to get it. But that's some serious luck there. I'm not sure how many people can get a phone interview before they've even finished updating their resume. At this rate, I'll get hired before my first interview, and somehow manage to get fired before my first day of work. If anyone can do it, it's me.
My Fail-Fu is strong.
I posted about politics. I know, I know, I should have left it to people who care. Instead, I espoused my own views of what the truth might be. A few hours later, I was laid off from my job of six and a half years. Coincidence? You can decide for yourself. Me, I think it's all an elaborate plot by right-wing neo-republican commandos hellbent on destroying the one voice of reason in a sea of frothing madness. HELLBENT, I SAY!!!
No, I don't really believe that. I do, however, wonder what the hell a neo-republican commando is. Sounds like a fun day job.
So the other day, my oldest sister is screaming at my mom for something stupid. It's nothing unusual, of course, that's my oldest sister's job. No, really, it's right in her job description, she gets paid to scream at my mom for stupid things. This time, both my mom and I heard my sister say she'd cook dinner that night. However, my sister says she had said no such thing. Fine, so both mom and I heard her wrong on two separate occasions. Unlikely, sure. I know, you guys know her reputation for lying her ass off, and maybe she was, but what do I care? I just had six years of stress removed from my shoulders by being freed from the oppressive cubicle hell I was in. I was feeling great. So mom starts cooking. But this isn't enough for my sister, OH NOES MISTER BILL. She's insistent on screaming at my mother for DARING to even THINK she'd said she'd cook. Now, since my mom is recovering from a stroke, I'm thinking, hey, maybe screaming at her non stop is probably a bad idea. I politely ask my sister to stop. I even say please. Didn't even raise my voice. My sister screams at me to shut up and glares at me like her glare is some sort of alien death ray and I'm just going to keel over. Lucky for me, she's sadly mistaken. I politely asked her to stop once more.
The next morning, my sister is packed up and gone. Why? She felt... "threatened." I guess I must have left my zipper open and she was threatened by my flopping manhood, because, let's face it... I'm a computer geek. I'm about as violent as Matthew Broderick in... well... any role he's ever played, I think. I make Woody Allen look like a serial killer. Come to think of it, he probably is. At any rate, I've somehow managed to cause a family squabble, because my sister thinks she should be allowed to scream at my mom, and get this... because my other sister and I have arguments with my mom. Yes, that's right. She's demanding her own chance to give my mom another stroke. And she insists she has that right. I know, it's like saying because someone else buys a gun, my sister has the right to shoot 17 people in a 5 state killing spree. The way her mind works, it doesn't surprise me.
So I've started my job search. Sort of jump started it, you could say. I get up this morning intent on finishing the updating of my resume, and I've already got a message waiting for me about a job. Now I hadn't even finished updating my resume at this point, let alone sent it out to anyone. I'm understandably confused. So I have a phone interview about a possible job I'm not really suited for. I'm probably not going to get it. But that's some serious luck there. I'm not sure how many people can get a phone interview before they've even finished updating their resume. At this rate, I'll get hired before my first interview, and somehow manage to get fired before my first day of work. If anyone can do it, it's me.
My Fail-Fu is strong.
Tuesday, May 3, 2011
Slow News Day
So some over-adrenalined guys with super-modern versions of slingshots killed some guy over the weekend.
I am of course talking about the killing of Osama bin Laden, if I spelled his name correctly. Now, I know, I do my best not to get into politics, and I will try and glaze over it as much as I can here, but I figured the topic was worthy of at least one post. Plus, I'm really bored.
Way back in 2001, I was recovering from major abdominal surgery (it was supposed to be minor but as almost always, there were... complications), and i crawled out of my comatose state and staggered forth from my man-cave (yes, I live in a man cave, so?), and I was immediately called to the TV to see planes smashing into the sides of the twin towers. My first response was "That is the fakest thing I have ever seen."
Yes, I was the very first 9-11 truther. Or at least one of the first. Frankly, by the age of 31, which I was at the time, I had seen so many horror and action movies that I was quite jaded to the special effects used in films. And my first response to the footage that was being shown was that it was quite fake. Granted, I was recovering from major surgery a mere 2 weeks before that, and I was fresh from sleep, but I'd run out of painkillers the week before, so I was at least partially mentally alert. The footage, apparently shot by someone who "just happened to be filming the side of the twin towers," looked unbelievably fake. None of the glass was shattering as the plane slammed into it, the building wasn't rocking back from the impact, though they are designed to sway in a light breeze, and the explosions seemed to fly outward from the building instead of slightly inward, as you would expect the mass of the huge airplane's momentum would force it that way. In any case, nothing that followed that first view of the supposed "recorded footage" of the airplane slamming into the tower convinced me that my first impulse was incorrect. My nephew, who was about 12 at the time, has recently informed me that there was no actual footage of the planes slamming into the towers, and that I was horribly mistaken. Well then, what was I watching that fateful day? It wasn't a hollywood movie... or was it? Who can say? I certainly can't now, I have only my eyewitness memories, not even of the actual site, but of what i was seeing and hearing from my TV that day. Everything since then may be open to debate, but I'm not doubting what I saw and heard, despite what my nephew says. And that it was a terrible tragedy and great loss of life was without doubt.
About a year or two after this, as far as I can recall, we were nearly convinced bin laden was responsible, and avidly seeking proof to launch an attack against al qaeiuoyda (i'm sure it's got at least a couple of those vowels in it). I saw the actual video of the supposed "proof" that he was responsible. OBL released a tape talking about how "america was very touchy ever since that 9/11 thing" (i'm paraphrasing since it was translated and I can't say for sure what he actually said) and THAT was apparently all the proof that we needed to blame him. Now, I'm not saying he wasn't a bad guy and the leaders of terrorist organizations have no business expecting a long and happy life, but I don't take what i saw and heard there or on 9/11 as "indisputable proof" of his guilt. However, that he was guilty of other terrorist acts is most likely without doubt.
I'm no peacemonger. I personally wouldn't shoot someone unless I had no other choice in defense of self or someone I loved, but i recognize the need for violence, even wars, at times. Or at least, I respect the rights of human beings to follow their biological desires for territory or resources, and realize that I am but one small voice of reason among the screaming masses, and to say I personally know what is right for everyone or not would be sheer lunacy on my part. So when "seal team six," who actually does not exist according to anyone who is asked, comes home from wherever they are and wants to crack a few beers in celebration, I'd be happy to buy them a round or two. They managed to accomplish their mission with, as I understand it, the loss of one helicopter to "mechanical failure." Since the first time I heard the story, the helicopter was shot down by small arms fire, I assume "mechanical failure" was brought on by dozens of rounds of screaming hot lead penetrating the chopper's fuselage and engine areas in this case, and the story was later changed to make it seem like there was less resistance. I've also heard that the first warning shot was fired into OBL's forehead. I, of course, was not there. No, I am certainly safer over here thanks to the actions of seal team six, bless their nonexistent selves, and I personally would have suffered something akin to a "bowel failure" had I been in their shoes that day. So, good for them!
However, some things confuse me. Nothing new there. One, according to some stories, and granted there's a lot of different versions floating around out there, but according to one article, the CIA knew about that place for some time, and apparently kept coming to the conclusion that OBL was there. Now, correct me if I am wrong, but, doesn't that imply months, perhaps years of knowledge about the supposed location of OBL's hideout, during which time we didn't do anything about it? I mean, the article clearly stated that they'd discussed it on numerous occasions, and if you are going to come to that same conclusion more than once or twice, some time must have passed between meetings, am I right? Certainly, I applaud the efforts to verify the location of the target before actually committing ourselves to the assassination, but doesn't that imply the move is a bit more political in nature than the sheer desire for revenge?
It certainly does distract anyone from wondering if our president was actually born in Hawaii or not, whether the recently released birth certificate is real, and seems to blow Donald Trump's chances for election out of the water. Now, I'm definitely not a republican, and I'm not saying I care one way or the other, because I don't. I hate politics. The timing just seems a bit suspicious, doesn't it?
In any case, hopefully the "hunt for justice" is now over, we can stop invading third world countries, bring our troops home, and maybe, just maybe, TSA agents can stop molesting 6 year old girls in the name of airport security. Is it too much to hope for? Probably. But I am ever the optimist. :-)
I am of course talking about the killing of Osama bin Laden, if I spelled his name correctly. Now, I know, I do my best not to get into politics, and I will try and glaze over it as much as I can here, but I figured the topic was worthy of at least one post. Plus, I'm really bored.
Way back in 2001, I was recovering from major abdominal surgery (it was supposed to be minor but as almost always, there were... complications), and i crawled out of my comatose state and staggered forth from my man-cave (yes, I live in a man cave, so?), and I was immediately called to the TV to see planes smashing into the sides of the twin towers. My first response was "That is the fakest thing I have ever seen."
Yes, I was the very first 9-11 truther. Or at least one of the first. Frankly, by the age of 31, which I was at the time, I had seen so many horror and action movies that I was quite jaded to the special effects used in films. And my first response to the footage that was being shown was that it was quite fake. Granted, I was recovering from major surgery a mere 2 weeks before that, and I was fresh from sleep, but I'd run out of painkillers the week before, so I was at least partially mentally alert. The footage, apparently shot by someone who "just happened to be filming the side of the twin towers," looked unbelievably fake. None of the glass was shattering as the plane slammed into it, the building wasn't rocking back from the impact, though they are designed to sway in a light breeze, and the explosions seemed to fly outward from the building instead of slightly inward, as you would expect the mass of the huge airplane's momentum would force it that way. In any case, nothing that followed that first view of the supposed "recorded footage" of the airplane slamming into the tower convinced me that my first impulse was incorrect. My nephew, who was about 12 at the time, has recently informed me that there was no actual footage of the planes slamming into the towers, and that I was horribly mistaken. Well then, what was I watching that fateful day? It wasn't a hollywood movie... or was it? Who can say? I certainly can't now, I have only my eyewitness memories, not even of the actual site, but of what i was seeing and hearing from my TV that day. Everything since then may be open to debate, but I'm not doubting what I saw and heard, despite what my nephew says. And that it was a terrible tragedy and great loss of life was without doubt.
About a year or two after this, as far as I can recall, we were nearly convinced bin laden was responsible, and avidly seeking proof to launch an attack against al qaeiuoyda (i'm sure it's got at least a couple of those vowels in it). I saw the actual video of the supposed "proof" that he was responsible. OBL released a tape talking about how "america was very touchy ever since that 9/11 thing" (i'm paraphrasing since it was translated and I can't say for sure what he actually said) and THAT was apparently all the proof that we needed to blame him. Now, I'm not saying he wasn't a bad guy and the leaders of terrorist organizations have no business expecting a long and happy life, but I don't take what i saw and heard there or on 9/11 as "indisputable proof" of his guilt. However, that he was guilty of other terrorist acts is most likely without doubt.
I'm no peacemonger. I personally wouldn't shoot someone unless I had no other choice in defense of self or someone I loved, but i recognize the need for violence, even wars, at times. Or at least, I respect the rights of human beings to follow their biological desires for territory or resources, and realize that I am but one small voice of reason among the screaming masses, and to say I personally know what is right for everyone or not would be sheer lunacy on my part. So when "seal team six," who actually does not exist according to anyone who is asked, comes home from wherever they are and wants to crack a few beers in celebration, I'd be happy to buy them a round or two. They managed to accomplish their mission with, as I understand it, the loss of one helicopter to "mechanical failure." Since the first time I heard the story, the helicopter was shot down by small arms fire, I assume "mechanical failure" was brought on by dozens of rounds of screaming hot lead penetrating the chopper's fuselage and engine areas in this case, and the story was later changed to make it seem like there was less resistance. I've also heard that the first warning shot was fired into OBL's forehead. I, of course, was not there. No, I am certainly safer over here thanks to the actions of seal team six, bless their nonexistent selves, and I personally would have suffered something akin to a "bowel failure" had I been in their shoes that day. So, good for them!
However, some things confuse me. Nothing new there. One, according to some stories, and granted there's a lot of different versions floating around out there, but according to one article, the CIA knew about that place for some time, and apparently kept coming to the conclusion that OBL was there. Now, correct me if I am wrong, but, doesn't that imply months, perhaps years of knowledge about the supposed location of OBL's hideout, during which time we didn't do anything about it? I mean, the article clearly stated that they'd discussed it on numerous occasions, and if you are going to come to that same conclusion more than once or twice, some time must have passed between meetings, am I right? Certainly, I applaud the efforts to verify the location of the target before actually committing ourselves to the assassination, but doesn't that imply the move is a bit more political in nature than the sheer desire for revenge?
It certainly does distract anyone from wondering if our president was actually born in Hawaii or not, whether the recently released birth certificate is real, and seems to blow Donald Trump's chances for election out of the water. Now, I'm definitely not a republican, and I'm not saying I care one way or the other, because I don't. I hate politics. The timing just seems a bit suspicious, doesn't it?
In any case, hopefully the "hunt for justice" is now over, we can stop invading third world countries, bring our troops home, and maybe, just maybe, TSA agents can stop molesting 6 year old girls in the name of airport security. Is it too much to hope for? Probably. But I am ever the optimist. :-)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)