I did it last year and I’m afraid I’ll do it again this year. No, I’m not talking about getting too drunk at the office Christmas party.
Actually, the place where I work doesn’t have a Christmas party and I’ve never really been a heavy drinker. There was that one time, but that’s a different column that might not even be fit to print.
My holiday worry is over-spending, and who would blame me? There are great people in my life who deserve extravagent gifts. Except I don’t have the money for extravagent, so they ususally have to settle for nice gifts.
Last year I have to admit that I overdid things just a little bit. I’m not going to go into specifics of what I got for who and why, but lets just say it was more than my old job, which barely paid enough for peanuts and beer, could let me afford. This meant that Visa gave me the holiday gift of a hefty credit card debt which didn’t get paid off until August.
I actually forgot one gift until the last minute and ended up getting my girlfriend long underwear–definately not the type of undergarment a guy under 30 buys for a woman–because my financial situation could easily have been described as flat broke.
She accepted it graciously along with the story that it would “keep her warm when I wasn’t around.”
Since she’s probably going to read this the day after it comes out I’m expecting a rather frosty Christmas unless her gift this year involves gold and diamonds. That’s another joke, I’m well aware she prefers silver jewelry.
Luckily I have a plan this year. To begin with I’ve set myself a realistic spending cap. This is the absolute maximum I’m allowing myself to spend on combined gifts for friends and family.
I’ve also budgeted that alotted cash based on how much I like someone. Not really, it’s really based on how many times they’ll hit me in the head for being a cheapskate if I don’t get them a good gift.
As an added measure, all of my credit cards–all two of them–are safely locked away. Some of you may be asking how I did that and the answer is that I put them away last year after I went wild during Christmas and have forgotten where they are.
There is absolutely zero hours of window shopping planned in my timetable of gift giving. I’ve gone overboard before by walking past the ‘perfect’ gift for someone and buying it only to find a ‘more perfect’ gift minutes later.
Since this year’s plan was not formulated until after I was out from under the crushing weight of credit card debt it is still a bit rough. But next year I should have holiday spending down to a science since I plan to track how my spending plan works out this year and use it to create a new plan soon after Dec. 26.
Oh, one last tip for the concientious gift giver. Whatever that hot toy is this year, don’t start a fight over the last one. These days, you never know who’s packing heat.
Do you know how many people got shot over a Tickle Me Elmo doll? Actually I don’t know of any, but I have felt like shooting myself a few times rather than wait in line any longer.
Thursday, November 29, 2007
Monday, November 19, 2007
Thanksgiving, the great American Myth.
There’s something incredibly wholesome about getting together with family and offering thanks for all the good things in life, even if the only thing you can come up with while you’re around the table is that you don’t have to have dinner with these people more than once or twice a year.
That having been said, I think everyone should know that Thanksgiving is a fake holiday. It’s not the most artificial holiday on the calendar, it’s more real than Valentine’s Day but less real than Veterans’ Day (which might be the most unfake holiday, tying for that honor with Martin Luther King Jr. Day).
I realize that most of you are probably angry with me at this point. I assure you that I have many reasons for feeling like I do, allow me to share them with you.
First off, Thanksgiving is supposed to be a commeration of the first colony to be founded in the new world. Putting the story simply, it was on this glorious day that the Pilgrims came together with their new native friends and celebrated the endurance of their new home.
This is a great story, but it’s important to realize it’s just that, a story, a myth, a pleasent fiction on which to base a cultural event.
If you were to read nearly any elementary history textbook, it is quite clear that the first lasting English colony on American soil was that of Jamestown (1607) in what would one day become the state of Virginia.
Prior to that the French and Spanish had already set up outposts in the new world, but these were mostly military and so mostly ignored. Jamestown on the other hand gets ignored because it was an economic venture.
The first Thanksgiving feast was held in 1621. It was a one time festival celebrating a successful harvest and lasted for three days. It wasn’t about family or religion for the Pilgrims, it was about being thankful to be alive. If it had been a celebration of family or religion then Native Americans wouldn’t have been on the guest list.
They probably didn’t eat turkey either. While corn and squash were probably on the menu there weren’t any cranberries. The only thing we know for certain was on the table was deer.
Of course, even though the pilgrims invited their native neighbors, they didn’t feed them. Oh they wanted to, that’s for sure, but they were ill-prepared for the number of guests that arrived. A Wampanoag chief named Massasoit was a gracious enough guest to send some men home for supplies. Boy, those Pilgrims must have been red in the face over that one.
Since the “first” thanksgiving was a one time affair, how is it that we still celebrate it today? You might say that it’s because of a president’s thankfulness that civil war hadn’t destroyed the nation.
It wasn’t until 1863 that President Abraham Lincoln appointed a day of thanksgiving as the last Thursday in November. Since his historic gesture, every president after him has issued a Thanksgiving Day proclamation. It wasn’t until 1939 that President Franklin D. Roosevelt set the official day as the Fourth Thursday in November–though it took Congress until 1941 to ratify it.
It seems like everything we “know” about the Pilgrims is wrong. They didn’t land on Plymouth Rock, they made landfall at Provincetown. The rock story is just a fable repeated over and over since it was first uttered by Thomas Faunce 100 years after the Pilgrim landing. Faunce was 95 years old at the time.
Not even our images of the pilgrims are right, the funny hats and and shoes with buckles are merely illustrator’s images designed to give quaint feeling to the colonists. Buckles didn’t come into fasion until late in the 17th century, long after the colonies were up and running. Pilgrims might have worn black, but probably only to church.
Not only are the Pilgrims painted wrongly, but the Native Americans are as well. In popular illustrations indians are shown wearing feather head dresses, which would be fine if it were the set of a John Wayne movie, but feathers were a tradition from plains indian tribes whom the Plymouth colonists could never have meet.
So, just to recap: No Turkey, No Rock, No Buckles, No Feathers, No first colony, No tradition lasting from 1621 until the present.
In the end, what is left? Only friends, family, a warm meal to share every year and lots of leftovers to snack on.
Speaking of leftovers, I’m starting to get hungry, time to reheat the mashed potatoes and stuffing.
That having been said, I think everyone should know that Thanksgiving is a fake holiday. It’s not the most artificial holiday on the calendar, it’s more real than Valentine’s Day but less real than Veterans’ Day (which might be the most unfake holiday, tying for that honor with Martin Luther King Jr. Day).
I realize that most of you are probably angry with me at this point. I assure you that I have many reasons for feeling like I do, allow me to share them with you.
First off, Thanksgiving is supposed to be a commeration of the first colony to be founded in the new world. Putting the story simply, it was on this glorious day that the Pilgrims came together with their new native friends and celebrated the endurance of their new home.
This is a great story, but it’s important to realize it’s just that, a story, a myth, a pleasent fiction on which to base a cultural event.
If you were to read nearly any elementary history textbook, it is quite clear that the first lasting English colony on American soil was that of Jamestown (1607) in what would one day become the state of Virginia.
Prior to that the French and Spanish had already set up outposts in the new world, but these were mostly military and so mostly ignored. Jamestown on the other hand gets ignored because it was an economic venture.
The first Thanksgiving feast was held in 1621. It was a one time festival celebrating a successful harvest and lasted for three days. It wasn’t about family or religion for the Pilgrims, it was about being thankful to be alive. If it had been a celebration of family or religion then Native Americans wouldn’t have been on the guest list.
They probably didn’t eat turkey either. While corn and squash were probably on the menu there weren’t any cranberries. The only thing we know for certain was on the table was deer.
Of course, even though the pilgrims invited their native neighbors, they didn’t feed them. Oh they wanted to, that’s for sure, but they were ill-prepared for the number of guests that arrived. A Wampanoag chief named Massasoit was a gracious enough guest to send some men home for supplies. Boy, those Pilgrims must have been red in the face over that one.
Since the “first” thanksgiving was a one time affair, how is it that we still celebrate it today? You might say that it’s because of a president’s thankfulness that civil war hadn’t destroyed the nation.
It wasn’t until 1863 that President Abraham Lincoln appointed a day of thanksgiving as the last Thursday in November. Since his historic gesture, every president after him has issued a Thanksgiving Day proclamation. It wasn’t until 1939 that President Franklin D. Roosevelt set the official day as the Fourth Thursday in November–though it took Congress until 1941 to ratify it.
It seems like everything we “know” about the Pilgrims is wrong. They didn’t land on Plymouth Rock, they made landfall at Provincetown. The rock story is just a fable repeated over and over since it was first uttered by Thomas Faunce 100 years after the Pilgrim landing. Faunce was 95 years old at the time.
Not even our images of the pilgrims are right, the funny hats and and shoes with buckles are merely illustrator’s images designed to give quaint feeling to the colonists. Buckles didn’t come into fasion until late in the 17th century, long after the colonies were up and running. Pilgrims might have worn black, but probably only to church.
Not only are the Pilgrims painted wrongly, but the Native Americans are as well. In popular illustrations indians are shown wearing feather head dresses, which would be fine if it were the set of a John Wayne movie, but feathers were a tradition from plains indian tribes whom the Plymouth colonists could never have meet.
So, just to recap: No Turkey, No Rock, No Buckles, No Feathers, No first colony, No tradition lasting from 1621 until the present.
In the end, what is left? Only friends, family, a warm meal to share every year and lots of leftovers to snack on.
Speaking of leftovers, I’m starting to get hungry, time to reheat the mashed potatoes and stuffing.
Friday, November 2, 2007
Feral Pigs
If you’re out deer hunting this fall, make sure you don’t miss an opportunity to bring home some extra bacon.
The Wisconsin DNR has authorized the unlimited hunting of feral pigs in the state.
“If properly cooked the meat is safe to eat. Landowner and hunters that shoot feral pigs are allowed to keep the carcass for consumption,” said Bradley Koele of the Wisconsin DNR
The pigs are classified as an exotic non-native species and can be killed on site by anyone with a small game license. Land-owners can shoot the pigs no questions asked, under DNR's animal nuisance control authority.
These feral animals look quite different from their common farmyard counterparts. They have elongated, flattened snouts and thick, coarse hair that can vary in color. Colors and patterns range from solid black, gray, brown, blonde, white, or red to spotted and belted combinations of these same colors. Their pointed ears stand up, rather than flopping over like their domestic cousins’.
These pigs can range from 80 to 440 pounds, with some trophy-sized examples reaching 500 pound and standing three feet high.
“Feral pigs can be aggressive and dangerous, but in most cases will run away from hunters or anything else they perceive as a danger to them,” said Koele.
The pigs have a prodigous reproduction rate, with fertility setting on in sows every 21 days. With a gestation period of 115 days, a single sow can give birth to four litters of four to 12 piglets in a year.
During the day, most pigs spend their time in mud wallows or thick brush, coming out in the morning and evening to feed.
They are totally omnivorous, and adaptable to almost any environment. Their diet can range from sea turtles and kelp in Florida, to ducklings and acorns in Wisconsin.
Though the standard range for a single pig is generally about 10 square miles, they have been known to cover up to 50 sqare miles if food is scarce.
Feral pigs are a growing problem in Wisconsin, as DNR officials and farmers are concerned that they could pass exotic diseases like pseudorabies, brucellosis and tuberculosis to domestic stock.
Farmers are also concerned with crop distruction from pigs rooting to find food. Feral pigs can be extremely destructive to recently planted fields and can damage pastures, facilities and fences, resulting in serious financial losses. In addition, the rooting is detrimental to fragile ecosystem and native vegetation.
The wallows pollute and muddy streams and ponds, contributing to erosion and algae blooms, and destroying aquatic vegetation.
The DNR continues to document declines in grassland and wetland birds and small mammals that is due to the pigs’ invasion. The Invasive Species Specialist Group lists feral pigs among the 100 worst invasive species saying, “Feral pigs like other introduced mammals are major drivers of extinction and ecosystem change.”
Pigs were originally introduced to the Americas by Spanish Explorers. Later, pigs escaped into the wild or were released. These roving populations then established themselves in the wild.
In the last few years, there have been local reports of feral pigs in Buffalo, Trempealeau, Jackson, Eau Claire and Clark Counties. The DNR has confirmed that there are feral pigs in Clark County and the WDNR website shows a pig carcass that was killed in Eau Claire County in 2004.
The Wisconsin DNR has authorized the unlimited hunting of feral pigs in the state.
“If properly cooked the meat is safe to eat. Landowner and hunters that shoot feral pigs are allowed to keep the carcass for consumption,” said Bradley Koele of the Wisconsin DNR
The pigs are classified as an exotic non-native species and can be killed on site by anyone with a small game license. Land-owners can shoot the pigs no questions asked, under DNR's animal nuisance control authority.
These feral animals look quite different from their common farmyard counterparts. They have elongated, flattened snouts and thick, coarse hair that can vary in color. Colors and patterns range from solid black, gray, brown, blonde, white, or red to spotted and belted combinations of these same colors. Their pointed ears stand up, rather than flopping over like their domestic cousins’.
These pigs can range from 80 to 440 pounds, with some trophy-sized examples reaching 500 pound and standing three feet high.
“Feral pigs can be aggressive and dangerous, but in most cases will run away from hunters or anything else they perceive as a danger to them,” said Koele.
The pigs have a prodigous reproduction rate, with fertility setting on in sows every 21 days. With a gestation period of 115 days, a single sow can give birth to four litters of four to 12 piglets in a year.
During the day, most pigs spend their time in mud wallows or thick brush, coming out in the morning and evening to feed.
They are totally omnivorous, and adaptable to almost any environment. Their diet can range from sea turtles and kelp in Florida, to ducklings and acorns in Wisconsin.
Though the standard range for a single pig is generally about 10 square miles, they have been known to cover up to 50 sqare miles if food is scarce.
Feral pigs are a growing problem in Wisconsin, as DNR officials and farmers are concerned that they could pass exotic diseases like pseudorabies, brucellosis and tuberculosis to domestic stock.
Farmers are also concerned with crop distruction from pigs rooting to find food. Feral pigs can be extremely destructive to recently planted fields and can damage pastures, facilities and fences, resulting in serious financial losses. In addition, the rooting is detrimental to fragile ecosystem and native vegetation.
The wallows pollute and muddy streams and ponds, contributing to erosion and algae blooms, and destroying aquatic vegetation.
The DNR continues to document declines in grassland and wetland birds and small mammals that is due to the pigs’ invasion. The Invasive Species Specialist Group lists feral pigs among the 100 worst invasive species saying, “Feral pigs like other introduced mammals are major drivers of extinction and ecosystem change.”
Pigs were originally introduced to the Americas by Spanish Explorers. Later, pigs escaped into the wild or were released. These roving populations then established themselves in the wild.
In the last few years, there have been local reports of feral pigs in Buffalo, Trempealeau, Jackson, Eau Claire and Clark Counties. The DNR has confirmed that there are feral pigs in Clark County and the WDNR website shows a pig carcass that was killed in Eau Claire County in 2004.
Monday, October 22, 2007
What Candidate Agrees With You?
This link is a simple reference for people to use in discovering which current presidential candidate agrees with them on the most hot-button issues. The issues are laid out quite clearly, some have options where others are simple yes/no or agree/oppose. Questions can be weighted for their importance to you.
In case anybody is interested, apparently my top candidate is Bill Richarson. He's closely followed by John Edwards and Dennis Kucinich. Rudy Giuliani is the only Republican to make the top 10 (I guess that's not surprising).
It should be noted that I got very different results when I skipped answering the abortion question.
To have a website determine the best candidate for you in an extremely arbitrary manner, go here: http://www.wqad.com/Global/link.asp?L=259460
In case anybody is interested, apparently my top candidate is Bill Richarson. He's closely followed by John Edwards and Dennis Kucinich. Rudy Giuliani is the only Republican to make the top 10 (I guess that's not surprising).
It should be noted that I got very different results when I skipped answering the abortion question.
To have a website determine the best candidate for you in an extremely arbitrary manner, go here: http://www.wqad.com/Global/link.asp?L=259460
Tuesday, October 16, 2007
Kentucky Fried Insanity
Today there are some people protesting at the Kentucky Fried Chicken in Eau Claire. It’s really sort of cute the way they’re doing it.
Apparently a bunch of PETA members have taken it upon themselves to dress up as skeletons and stand around in the rain to protest the cruelty of killing innocent chickens.
The protesters are carrying signs that read, “I’d rather be dead than eat Kentucky Fried Cruelty.” I’ll grant them that the slogan is just a little bit clever, but what are they honestly hoping to accomplish other than proving that they’re crazy enough to put on costumes and dance around like jackasses?
I can attest to the cruelty. I’ve seen chickens killed. When I say that I’m sure people picture a chicken factory or a man with a hatchet. To tell the truth, my grandmother used to do it with her bare hands. She’d break their necks then spin them and pop the heads off.
The other chickens watched her do it. They didn’t seem overly disturbed, not even to the degree that I was.
I ate that same chicken later, after it had been plucked and gutted. It was delicious.
I guess what I’m trying to say is that I hate PETA. For the most part, it seems like they’re a bunch of self-righteous asshats who value animal rights over human rights.
I can’t help but think that child sweat shop labor in third world countries just might be a more valid reason for protest than the killing of an animal with a brain that weighs less than my fingernail.
These people need to understand that extremism (like dressing up as a skeleton) is not the proper way to win the hearts and minds of a moderate public. If anything, it seems to me that they’re probably scaring more people away from PETA than they are from KFC.
I was speaking with a vegan friend of mind the other day who is amazingly open minded. I say that her open-mindedness is amazing because, in my experience, vegetarians and vegans tend to be very snooty about their eating habits.
There is an undercurrent in the vegetarian community that seems to always be saying, “I’m more pure because I use less animal products than you.” This has always disgusted me. It’s one thing to take on the challenge of avoiding animal products and quite another to hold yourself in a superior air for doing so.
Your diet and clothing choices do not make you better than anyone else, they just make you different from the majority of the American population.
While speaking with the vegan friend whom I mentioned earlier, I was pleased to find that her beliefs were well reasoned. She calls herself a vegan, but is not one in the strictest sense. When I asked why she uses the word if she isn’t a strict non-user of animal and animal tested products, she responded that the label is quite useful when doing things like ordering at a restaurant. People understand what it means and thus she doesn’t have to explain her exact dietary specifications.
I was surprised to find that she is accepting of meats that come from hunted game and family farms. Her main objection is to the factory farms which, over the last few decades, have come to provide greater and greater amounts of the meat, milk and eggs that we consume.
In that sense, she and I are in agreement. She, unlike myself, has put her belief into practice, which I respect. Even more than that, she is not a mouthpiece for her own school of thought. While she might suggest that a person try to consume less animal-derived items, she would never look down on or chastise anyone just because they chose not to.
I find this same general attitude to be applicable in many walks of life. Take religion for example. I have no quarrel with any person of any faith, so long as they avoid trying to sell it to me.
I find this example to be particularily illuminating since it seems that these types of dietary choices are practically a religion for some people, and one of the things my grandmother (the one who killed chickens) taught me, it’s that you shouldn’t talk about religion among strangers because you never know who you’ll offend.
The skeleton KFC protest reminds me in a way of an anti-war protest I went to when I was a freshman in college. I was lucky enough to be at a protest where counter-protesters (war supporters) were present to represent an opposing belief.
Of course, many of the anti-war crowd didn’t feel as blessed as I did that we were part of a representative democracy in action.
What happened is that both sides shouted at each other. The pro-war side held up pictures of soldiers in combat and called the anti-war side traitors. The anti-war side held up pictures of dead babies and called the pro-war side murderers. It reminded me alot of watching senate debates on C-span, only a little bit more civil.
It was as if the two sides were standing on either edge of a canyon. Each was yelling at the other to get to work building a bridge, but no one was picking up tools.
I mentioned converting moderates earlier and think that this is really the key point. In my metaphor above, the moderates would be at the bottom of the canyon wondering what all the shouting is about. Some of them may want to climb the walls, but everyone up top is too busy making noise to reach a hand down and help them. Most are probably just tired of people making all that noise in what was once a peaceful canyon.
Apparently a bunch of PETA members have taken it upon themselves to dress up as skeletons and stand around in the rain to protest the cruelty of killing innocent chickens.
The protesters are carrying signs that read, “I’d rather be dead than eat Kentucky Fried Cruelty.” I’ll grant them that the slogan is just a little bit clever, but what are they honestly hoping to accomplish other than proving that they’re crazy enough to put on costumes and dance around like jackasses?
I can attest to the cruelty. I’ve seen chickens killed. When I say that I’m sure people picture a chicken factory or a man with a hatchet. To tell the truth, my grandmother used to do it with her bare hands. She’d break their necks then spin them and pop the heads off.
The other chickens watched her do it. They didn’t seem overly disturbed, not even to the degree that I was.
I ate that same chicken later, after it had been plucked and gutted. It was delicious.
I guess what I’m trying to say is that I hate PETA. For the most part, it seems like they’re a bunch of self-righteous asshats who value animal rights over human rights.
I can’t help but think that child sweat shop labor in third world countries just might be a more valid reason for protest than the killing of an animal with a brain that weighs less than my fingernail.
These people need to understand that extremism (like dressing up as a skeleton) is not the proper way to win the hearts and minds of a moderate public. If anything, it seems to me that they’re probably scaring more people away from PETA than they are from KFC.
I was speaking with a vegan friend of mind the other day who is amazingly open minded. I say that her open-mindedness is amazing because, in my experience, vegetarians and vegans tend to be very snooty about their eating habits.
There is an undercurrent in the vegetarian community that seems to always be saying, “I’m more pure because I use less animal products than you.” This has always disgusted me. It’s one thing to take on the challenge of avoiding animal products and quite another to hold yourself in a superior air for doing so.
Your diet and clothing choices do not make you better than anyone else, they just make you different from the majority of the American population.
While speaking with the vegan friend whom I mentioned earlier, I was pleased to find that her beliefs were well reasoned. She calls herself a vegan, but is not one in the strictest sense. When I asked why she uses the word if she isn’t a strict non-user of animal and animal tested products, she responded that the label is quite useful when doing things like ordering at a restaurant. People understand what it means and thus she doesn’t have to explain her exact dietary specifications.
I was surprised to find that she is accepting of meats that come from hunted game and family farms. Her main objection is to the factory farms which, over the last few decades, have come to provide greater and greater amounts of the meat, milk and eggs that we consume.
In that sense, she and I are in agreement. She, unlike myself, has put her belief into practice, which I respect. Even more than that, she is not a mouthpiece for her own school of thought. While she might suggest that a person try to consume less animal-derived items, she would never look down on or chastise anyone just because they chose not to.
I find this same general attitude to be applicable in many walks of life. Take religion for example. I have no quarrel with any person of any faith, so long as they avoid trying to sell it to me.
I find this example to be particularily illuminating since it seems that these types of dietary choices are practically a religion for some people, and one of the things my grandmother (the one who killed chickens) taught me, it’s that you shouldn’t talk about religion among strangers because you never know who you’ll offend.
The skeleton KFC protest reminds me in a way of an anti-war protest I went to when I was a freshman in college. I was lucky enough to be at a protest where counter-protesters (war supporters) were present to represent an opposing belief.
Of course, many of the anti-war crowd didn’t feel as blessed as I did that we were part of a representative democracy in action.
What happened is that both sides shouted at each other. The pro-war side held up pictures of soldiers in combat and called the anti-war side traitors. The anti-war side held up pictures of dead babies and called the pro-war side murderers. It reminded me alot of watching senate debates on C-span, only a little bit more civil.
It was as if the two sides were standing on either edge of a canyon. Each was yelling at the other to get to work building a bridge, but no one was picking up tools.
I mentioned converting moderates earlier and think that this is really the key point. In my metaphor above, the moderates would be at the bottom of the canyon wondering what all the shouting is about. Some of them may want to climb the walls, but everyone up top is too busy making noise to reach a hand down and help them. Most are probably just tired of people making all that noise in what was once a peaceful canyon.
Thursday, October 11, 2007
Things I Hate: Concert Edition
Are you that guy that just has to yell “WOOOOOOO!” at a concert? Are you so desperate for attention that just making noise so that people will look at you has become a viable option?
I guess I can’t fault this sort of behavior at a sporting event, where the reactions of the crowd have very little to do with the real object of attention. But when these kinds of outbursts start to occur at movies, concerts and lectures, I really just want to start stabbing people in the kidney.
Why the kidney? Because humans have two of them and can generally get by without one as opposed to lungs, which you really need both of, or the heart, which is essential and has no backup.
Forgive me for feeling like I want to hear whatever band I just handed over good money to hear.
If I wanted to hear mentally deficient people scream I’d just go to a shelter for the mentally handicapped and start kicking residents in the junk.
If you’re out raged by that last statement then perhaps you’re beginning to understand how I feel when someone makes a noise like a bull elk being castrated while I’m trying to listen to my favorite band who is 50 feet in front of me.
If you don’t want to do the same then why are you there in the first place.
I’m sure there are those of you who are scratching your heads and wondering how else you’re supposed to show your appreciation for the creative genius of the musician.
It’s called clapping, nimrod. Let me explain to you how it works.
Step 1: Put your hands together like you do when you’re asking your god to serve up a smorgasboard of drunken poontang at the all-night kegger.
Step 2: Pull your hands apart like when you’re exagerating the size of your penis to an intoxicated sorostitute in the hope that she’ll let you dissapoint her later.
Step 3: Bring both your hands together in a double slapping action. Like that time you smacked that bitch off the party porch when she laughed at your haircut.
Step 4: Repeat.
Please note that clapping is a bit more complicated than screaming at random times. You should only use it when the object of entertainment completes a portion of their act. If you’re confused as to what that means, just watch for when everyone else is doing it and follow along since that’s probably what you do best anyway.
If you’re that ready to comply with my instructions, let me try one more.
Step 1: Shoot yourself in the head.
Ok, now that we have all the incredibly stupid people gone, let’s continue with this rant.
Also at fault in my eyes are the morons who feel the need to put their hands in the air and do that morion that looks like they’re flicking imaginary water at the band.
If you want to pretend you’re dancing, try wiggling your hips a bit while shuffling your feet. You might look a little silly, but believe me that it’s nothing compared to how dumb you look trying to flick air at the performers. Keep your hands down and nod your head. If you absolutely have to do it, then try to limit it to a few seconds when you feel the music is really good. Like most gestures, it get worn out really fast when you use it too much.
I’ve saved my final complaint for last since it’s an all too common one. Turn your goddam cell phone off. Unless you’re a doctor, you really don’t need it on. If you have spent the time and money to make it through med school, then you should be smart enough to understand how the vibrate setting works. Use it.
Nobody, especially me, paid to hear a monophonic rendition of “We Are the Champions” or “Big Pimpin’” so shut the damn thing off.
Alright, rant concluded. We now return you to your regularily scheduled blogging.
I guess I can’t fault this sort of behavior at a sporting event, where the reactions of the crowd have very little to do with the real object of attention. But when these kinds of outbursts start to occur at movies, concerts and lectures, I really just want to start stabbing people in the kidney.
Why the kidney? Because humans have two of them and can generally get by without one as opposed to lungs, which you really need both of, or the heart, which is essential and has no backup.
Forgive me for feeling like I want to hear whatever band I just handed over good money to hear.
If I wanted to hear mentally deficient people scream I’d just go to a shelter for the mentally handicapped and start kicking residents in the junk.
If you’re out raged by that last statement then perhaps you’re beginning to understand how I feel when someone makes a noise like a bull elk being castrated while I’m trying to listen to my favorite band who is 50 feet in front of me.
If you don’t want to do the same then why are you there in the first place.
I’m sure there are those of you who are scratching your heads and wondering how else you’re supposed to show your appreciation for the creative genius of the musician.
It’s called clapping, nimrod. Let me explain to you how it works.
Step 1: Put your hands together like you do when you’re asking your god to serve up a smorgasboard of drunken poontang at the all-night kegger.
Step 2: Pull your hands apart like when you’re exagerating the size of your penis to an intoxicated sorostitute in the hope that she’ll let you dissapoint her later.
Step 3: Bring both your hands together in a double slapping action. Like that time you smacked that bitch off the party porch when she laughed at your haircut.
Step 4: Repeat.
Please note that clapping is a bit more complicated than screaming at random times. You should only use it when the object of entertainment completes a portion of their act. If you’re confused as to what that means, just watch for when everyone else is doing it and follow along since that’s probably what you do best anyway.
If you’re that ready to comply with my instructions, let me try one more.
Step 1: Shoot yourself in the head.
Ok, now that we have all the incredibly stupid people gone, let’s continue with this rant.
Also at fault in my eyes are the morons who feel the need to put their hands in the air and do that morion that looks like they’re flicking imaginary water at the band.
If you want to pretend you’re dancing, try wiggling your hips a bit while shuffling your feet. You might look a little silly, but believe me that it’s nothing compared to how dumb you look trying to flick air at the performers. Keep your hands down and nod your head. If you absolutely have to do it, then try to limit it to a few seconds when you feel the music is really good. Like most gestures, it get worn out really fast when you use it too much.
I’ve saved my final complaint for last since it’s an all too common one. Turn your goddam cell phone off. Unless you’re a doctor, you really don’t need it on. If you have spent the time and money to make it through med school, then you should be smart enough to understand how the vibrate setting works. Use it.
Nobody, especially me, paid to hear a monophonic rendition of “We Are the Champions” or “Big Pimpin’” so shut the damn thing off.
Alright, rant concluded. We now return you to your regularily scheduled blogging.
Things I Hate: Concert Edition
Are you that guy that just has to yell “WOOOOOOO!” at a concert? Are you so desperate for attention that just making noise so that people will look at you has become a viable option?
I guess I can’t fault this sort of behavior at a sporting event, where the reactions of the crowd have very little to do with the real object of attention. But when these kinds of outbursts start to occur at movies, concerts and lectures, I really just want to start stabbing people in the kidney.
Why the kidney? Because humans have two of them and can generally get by without one as opposed to lungs, which you really need both of, or the heart, which is essential and has no backup.
Forgive me for feeling like I want to hear whatever band I just handed over good money to hear.
If I wanted to hear mentally deficient people scream I’d just go to a shelter for the mentally handicapped and start kicking residents in the junk.
If you’re out raged by that last statement then perhaps you’re beginning to understand how I feel when someone makes a noise like a bull elk being castrated while I’m trying to listen to my favorite band who is 50 feet in front of me.
If you don’t want to do the same then why are you there in the first place.
I’m sure there are those of you who are scratching your heads and wondering how else you’re supposed to show your appreciation for the creative genius of the musician.
It’s called clapping, nimrod. Let me explain to you how it works.
Step 1: Put your hands together like you do when you’re asking your god to serve up a smorgasboard of drunken poontang at the all-night kegger.
Step 2: Pull your hands apart like when you’re exagerating the size of your penis to an intoxicated sorostitute in the hope that she’ll let you dissapoint her later.
Step 3: Bring both your hands together in a double slapping action. Like that time you smacked that bitch off the party porch when she laughed at your haircut.
Step 4: Repeat.
Please note that clapping is a bit more complicated than screaming at random times. You should only use it when the object of entertainment completes a portion of their act. If you’re confused as to what that means, just watch for when everyone else is doing it and follow along since that’s probably what you do best anyway.
If you’re that ready to comply with my instructions, let me try one more.
Step 1: Shoot yourself in the head.
Ok, now that we have all the incredibly stupid people gone, let’s continue with this rant.
Also at fault in my eyes are the morons who feel the need to put their hands in the air and do that morion that looks like they’re flicking imaginary water at the band.
If you want to pretend you’re dancing, try wiggling your hips a bit while shuffling your feet. You might look a little silly, but believe me that it’s nothing compared to how dumb you look trying to flick air at the performers. Keep your hands down and nod your head. If you absolutely have to do it, then try to limit it to a few seconds when you feel the music is really good. Like most gestures, it get worn out really fast when you use it too much.
I’ve saved my final complaint for last since it’s an all too common one. Turn your goddam cell phone off. Unless you’re a doctor, you really don’t need it on. If you have spent the time and money to make it through med school, then you should be smart enough to understand how the vibrate setting works. Use it.
Nobody, especially me, paid to hear a monophonic rendition of “We Are the Champions” or “Big Pimpin’” so shut the damn thing off.
Alright, rant concluded. We now return you to your regularily scheduled blogging.
I guess I can’t fault this sort of behavior at a sporting event, where the reactions of the crowd have very little to do with the real object of attention. But when these kinds of outbursts start to occur at movies, concerts and lectures, I really just want to start stabbing people in the kidney.
Why the kidney? Because humans have two of them and can generally get by without one as opposed to lungs, which you really need both of, or the heart, which is essential and has no backup.
Forgive me for feeling like I want to hear whatever band I just handed over good money to hear.
If I wanted to hear mentally deficient people scream I’d just go to a shelter for the mentally handicapped and start kicking residents in the junk.
If you’re out raged by that last statement then perhaps you’re beginning to understand how I feel when someone makes a noise like a bull elk being castrated while I’m trying to listen to my favorite band who is 50 feet in front of me.
If you don’t want to do the same then why are you there in the first place.
I’m sure there are those of you who are scratching your heads and wondering how else you’re supposed to show your appreciation for the creative genius of the musician.
It’s called clapping, nimrod. Let me explain to you how it works.
Step 1: Put your hands together like you do when you’re asking your god to serve up a smorgasboard of drunken poontang at the all-night kegger.
Step 2: Pull your hands apart like when you’re exagerating the size of your penis to an intoxicated sorostitute in the hope that she’ll let you dissapoint her later.
Step 3: Bring both your hands together in a double slapping action. Like that time you smacked that bitch off the party porch when she laughed at your haircut.
Step 4: Repeat.
Please note that clapping is a bit more complicated than screaming at random times. You should only use it when the object of entertainment completes a portion of their act. If you’re confused as to what that means, just watch for when everyone else is doing it and follow along since that’s probably what you do best anyway.
If you’re that ready to comply with my instructions, let me try one more.
Step 1: Shoot yourself in the head.
Ok, now that we have all the incredibly stupid people gone, let’s continue with this rant.
Also at fault in my eyes are the morons who feel the need to put their hands in the air and do that morion that looks like they’re flicking imaginary water at the band.
If you want to pretend you’re dancing, try wiggling your hips a bit while shuffling your feet. You might look a little silly, but believe me that it’s nothing compared to how dumb you look trying to flick air at the performers. Keep your hands down and nod your head. If you absolutely have to do it, then try to limit it to a few seconds when you feel the music is really good. Like most gestures, it get worn out really fast when you use it too much.
I’ve saved my final complaint for last since it’s an all too common one. Turn your goddam cell phone off. Unless you’re a doctor, you really don’t need it on. If you have spent the time and money to make it through med school, then you should be smart enough to understand how the vibrate setting works. Use it.
Nobody, especially me, paid to hear a monophonic rendition of “We Are the Champions” or “Big Pimpin’” so shut the damn thing off.
Alright, rant concluded. We now return you to your regularily scheduled blogging.
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