Letters To People Unlikely To Respond: The Guy Behind Me On The Train

Dude.
I know you're pissed at her and all her drama. I know you're tired of her crap and her girlfriends, and her indecision and her inability to understand the phrase "Don't fucking call me anymore"
She also doesn't comprehend "Stop calling me", " I don't fucking want to talk to you" and the ever-popular "Quit fucking calling me, Bitch" and the 200 variations on these phrases I have been hearing repeated since Alexandria Va.
Let me offer you an alternative to these ineffective pleas you have been making.

Don't. Answer. The. Phone.

Turn that thing off, call block her, or just mute the ringer and put it away.

But if she calls and you answer, you're just asking for the drama to follow you around like an albatross.

Moron.

Letters To People Unlikely to Resond - More Sochi

Dear Alarmist Media
(you know who you are...)
Will you knock off the "ZOMG Sochi are teh Worst Olympics Evar - Everyonez gonna die!" crap?

 When Chicago Tribune reporter Stacy St. Clair, who is covering the Winter Olympics for the newspaper, arrived at her hotel, she was informed that there was a problem with the water and it had been shut off.
Then hotel staff delivered an ominous warning: “Do not use on your face because it contains something very dangerous.”

 Yeah-
There are problems with plumbing in new buildings.
Happens in the US too.

And guess what happens when you try to talk to people (under pressure) trying to do a good job and English isn't their native language?
Messages get lost in translation. Duh.

Hey Stacy- I'll bet you dimes to doughnuts that I can find 10 hotels in Chicago that have shittier water than the water in my hotel...


I know, "If it bleeds, it leads", but for crying out loud- it's not like we (people working here) were expecting it to be perfect. It's a farking work in progress.
Give them a chance.

My nephew-in-law sent me a link to an article on Deadspin.com about the horrors in Sochi.  Staying In Sochi Is A Hilarious Adventure (article on Dogs, Water, new hotel issues and toilet paper flushing.)

He asked: "Has this been your experience?" 

I couldn't give a one-word answer...
(Hell, I can never give one-word answers.)

Well...
    There is quite a bit of stuff in that article...
    Here's a few things from my experience:

    1. Dogs. Lots of feral dogs everywhere, including inside the Olympic sites. They are friendly and hungry. Being feral dogs, they go where they want, and they fight, get hit by cars, etc. Lots of them limp or are otherwise injured.

    2. My hotel room is good. Clean water, AC/Heat, WiFi, etc.

    3. Other people in my hotel complex (other buildings) are not so lucky. Sketchy water, no hot water on some mornings, non-existent wifi, etc.

    4. My only concern (and it has me more worried than possible terrorist attack) is that hotel security locks (deadbolt, keyed) the exit door of the emergency stairwell at 10pm, and unlock it at 6am.
So... if there is a fire the security guy will have to run and open the doors.
Guess how likely THAT is...
My plan in case of fire: Out to balcony, over railing. I'm on the 2nd floor- no problem.

    5. Plumbing. Same issues occurred in Torino, Athens, and now Sochi...
The plumbing and sewer systems in many Euro countries are not able to handle the amount of TP that Americans typically flush. The paper blocks the system and then there is a backup.
    In Athens in 2004, this happened in Compound 4 outside swimming and diving- a literal Shitcano erupted right outside the NBC dining tent. On this past Saturday, the exact same thing happened at the SkiJump venue- the sewer system overflowed INTO the dining tent in the broadcast compound.
    Rule of thumb in Euro countries- if there is a trashcan INSIDE the stall/near the toilet, do not flush the bog paper.

    Photo from SpongeMark:

I really like this one. The Engrish level is awesome.
'Hope for understanding', indeed!

    6. Open manholes.
    Yes. Watch your step. (I already covered this)
    Carry a flashlight if you're out after dark.
    Be alert when driving.

For Chrisssakes, step it back to DefCon3, will ya?
You're scaring our friends and families back home.

TY&FY

TBG

TBG- ΜΟΛΩΝ ΛΑΒE

Letters To People Unlikely To Respond - Sochi Edition

Dear Mr. Starts-With-P-and-Rhymes-with-Shootin',-Lootin'-and-Tootin',

I'm one of the hundreds of people that were detoured off your 8.6 billion dollar highway to Krasnaya Polyana then road blocked on a 2-lane highway outside Monastyr for over an hour today.

Let me ask you- did you know that when you pay a visit to a location that your security forces shut things down for miles and miles around?
That while you're glad handing the IOC and playing slap and tickle for selected media, there are people that have shit to do, and cannot get it done because there is a 45KM lockdown.
Let me give you a little hint-
If you want the games to be a success, don't come in 2 days before the competitions start and shut everything down for 3 hours...
That only does two things-
It causes delayed or unfinished tasks, and generates bad press...
Because those 4 reporters from AP that were in the car behind me that were on the way to a mixed-zone interview with a top US skiier and missed the opportunity- guess what they are going to write about now... And it probably won't be flattering.

This same shit happened the last night in Kazan when some tin-pot politician came to the city for closing ceremonies and security forces shut the whole city down from the time he landed until his plane was wheels-up on the way back to Moscow.

 Does the possibility of coming into contact with the hoi-polloi cause such fear and trepidation in the hearts of Russian politicians that they must immobilize the entire region?

Get over yourself,

TY&FY


The Big Guy


TBG- ΜΟΛΩΝ ΛΑΒE

From the Mail Bag

While researching CC Moore's "A Visit From St. Nicholas" I came across some versions I hadn't seen before, some which I sent off to various friends that I thought might find them interesting...

I got one back (thanks RC!) that I don't remember reading before. Based on it's vintage, some of you might have seen it before... If not- please read and take to heart the message.

Merry Christmas, My Friend
(a perennial military favorite)

Twas the night before Christmas, he lived all alone,
In a one-bedroom house made of plaster and stone.

I had come down the chimney with presents to give,
And to see just who in this home did live.

I looked all about, a strange sight did I see,
No music, no presents, not even a tree.

No stocking by mantle, just boots filled with sand,
And on the wall pictures of far distant lands.

With medals and badges, awards of all kinds,
A sobering thought came to my mind.

For this house was different, so dark and so dreary,
The home of a soldier, now I could see clearly.

The soldier lay sleeping, silent, alone,
Curled up on the floor in this one-bedroom home.

The face was so gentle, the room in such disorder,
Not how I pictured a United States soldier.

Was this the hero of whom I’d just read?
Curled up on a poncho, the floor for a bed?

I couldn’t help wonder how many lay alone,
On a cold Christmas Eve in a land far from home.

The very thought brought a tear to my eye,
I dropped to my knees and started to cry.

The soldier awakened and I heard a tough voice,
“Santa, don’t cry. This life is my choice.

“I fight for freedom, I don’t ask for more,
My life is my God, my country, my corps.”

The soldier rolled over and soon drifted to sleep,
I couldn’t control it, I continued to weep.

I kept watch for hours, so silent and still,
And we both shivered from the cold evening’s chill.

I didn’t want to leave on that cold, dark night,
This guardian of honor so willing to fight.

The the soldier rolled over, with a voice soft and pure,
Whispered, “Carry on, Santa. It’s Christmas day. All is secure.”

One look at my watch and I knew he was right,
“Merry Christmas my friend, and to all a good night.”
                                   - Lance Corporal James M.Schmidt, 1998

TBG- ΜΟΛΩΝ ΛΑΒE

Anger Management - The Burrito Edition

This dude has been driven to his breaking point...

(Source here)

Dear Guy Who Just Made My Burrito:
Have you ever been to earth?

On earth, we use the word “burrito” to describe a tortilla filled with things you eat. Pretty simple stuff, and I’m surprised you at least got that part right. My burrito was, in fact, filled with food. In this, you and I agree and are friends. But this is also where my lifelong hatred begins for you and anyone else whose brain has been repeatedly scrubbed with the same mixture of bleach and Pop Rocks as yours has. Because that should have killed you, but left you around long enough to do what you did to me today. Let me explain:

You’re an idiot.

Let me further explain:

Burritos are eaten from one end to the other. So that means when you assemble a burrito with motherfucking ZONES of ingredients going that direction, you create a disgusting experience for the burrito’s end user. When you make a burrito, you should put the ingredients in layers lengthwise. That way, every bite has AT LEAST A FUCKING CHANCE of getting at least two types of ingredients, and there is little chance of becoming almost hopelessly trapped in a goddamned cilantro cavern.

Have you ever eaten one of the things you make all fucking day? You should try one. They are pretty good WHEN YOU ARE NOT WILLING YOURSELF THROUGH THE FUCKING EMPIRE OF SOUR CREAM ONLY TO END UP IN LETTUCE COUNTRY.

When you eat a burrito, you don’t stand it up and bite down on it lengthwise like a fucking Rancor. Humans can’t usually dislocate their jaws, and I’m not a fucking pelican. But you must think that’s how it’s done, since that would be THE ONLY FUCKING WAY to take a bite of your crapstrosity and have it taste like a burrito.

And guess what else, player? You probably can’t guess anything, because I’m pretty sure you’re just a mop with a hat on it that fell over and spilled some shit into a tortilla, but just in case, here’s what:

Humans also don’t eat burritos like fucking corn on the cob. Like a fucking typewriter from one end to the other a little at a time and then DING next line. But today I wish I had tried that. Because at least THEN I would be able to eat some rice, then beans, then be all like HEY BEANS I’LL BE RIGHT BACK JUST GOING OVER HERE TO THE GUACAMOLE FOR A SECOND.

Nope.

My experience was more like HEY BEANS IT’S JUST GOING TO BE YOU AND I FOR A MINUTE UNTIL I CAN FUCKING EXCAVATE THE RICE FROM BENEATH YOU BUT BY THEN YOU WILL BE A FADING MEMORY OH HEY I WAS WRONG I’M IN THE FUCKING CHEESEOSPHERE NOW RICE MUST BE NEXT I HOPE IT’S NOT ANOTHER FUCKING SALSA POCKET.

You built this thing like a fucking pack of LifeSavers.

And don’t even fucking think I’m about to open this shit up and re-engineer your nonsense 90 degrees. I ALREADY PUT A HOLE IN IT WITH MY FUCKING MOUTH. YEAH. THAT’S HOW I DISCOVERED YOU FUCKING SUCK AT LOOKING AT THINGS. I AM NOT GOING TO DO FUCKING TORTILLA ORIGAMI TO GET THIS SHIT BACK TOGETHER, ONLY TO END UP WITH A BURRITO THAT’S BEEN SHOT IN THE GUT AND IS BLEEDING YOUR INEPTITUDE.

What’s that? I should ask you to mix it up first next time? IS THIS JAMBA JUICE? I DON’T WANT TO DRINK MY FUCKING BURRITO THROUGH A BENDY STRAW, AND I DON’T WANT A PILE OF BURRITO SOUP IN A FLOUR CAN.

I just want a burrito.

In conclusion:

You’re the worst thing that has ever happened to the universe, you owe everyone everywhere an apology for this burritobomination, and I hope your babies look like monkeys.

TBG- ΜΟΛΩΝ ΛΑΒE

Letters to Entities Unlikely to Respond #347

Dear England-

Can I make a suggestion?

1. Launder your clothes more often. (see #3)

2. Shower/bathe.

3. Use soap.

4. Deodorant. Use it.

5. Got Toothbrush? Toothpaste?

6. Mouthwash/Breath mint wouldn't hurt.
6a. Mouthwash / breath mint is not a long-term substitute for #5.

Thanks,

That big guy in the elevator holding his breath.

Really, if riding down in the hotel elevator first thing in the morning and the stench of B.O. and bad breath makes someone gag, there needs to be a serious discussion about your hygiene.


TBG- ΜΟΛΩΝ ΛΑΒE

Letters to Entities Unlikely to Respond.

Dear 6,
Please stop spreading rumors about me eating 9.
You shouldn't be talking. I hear you guys do some pretty nasty things.
Sincerely,
7


TBG- ΜΟΛΩΝ ΛΑΒE

Letters to People Unlikely to Respond: Assclown Smoker Apology

To the girl in the red Ford Explorer on Penman Ave:

As I pulled up behind you on my motorcycle and we waited on the traffic light,
I could tell there was going to be a confrontation.

You were rocking the "Commuting Smoker" pose- window down, mostly-consumed cigarette held stylishly out the window, occasionally flicking the butt to increase the ash content of the streets in Neptune Beach.


This isn't her, but it is the same situation in the same place.

I sat behind you watching, knowing what was coming, like I have seen it a thousand times before...
One last drag as the light goes green, then the butt sails out the window, to add to the huge collection of discarded smoker trash at every turn lane in North Florida, and I guess, most of North America.




Yep- you reeled it in for a minute for that final lungful of tars and nicotene, then held it out the window at arms length and let it drop to the street.

You. Fucking. Slob. Bitch.

I know you couldn't possible have known that not ten minutes earlier I'd just had a similar encounter out on Atlantic Boulevard where another smoking asshat flipped his butt out the window where it impacted my windscreen then bounced up, narrowly missing my face.
I spent the next 10 minutes cussing smokers in general, until I wound up behind you.

And this callous move pushed me over the edge.

"Hey! Lady. This isn't your ashtray! Pick that up!" I shouted.
The light had changed and traffic started to move...

I could see your shilouette in the car- you gave the palms-up, shrugged shoulders-
"What?"

Oh. You're busted, and you want to play dumb.
No problem. Let me expalin.

I know you were surprised when I rode around you and stopped my bike in front of your SUV, hopped off the bike and walked to your window, which was still down...

I picked up your still-smouldering butt and flicked it in your window...
(...and you should be thankful I threw it down toward your floorboard instead of your face.)
"You dropped this, you slob. The street isn't your fucking ashtray."
I went back to my bike, dropped into first gear and rode off.

Here's where the apology comes in.

I apologize for using profanity at you.

I'm sorry you have a nicotene monkey on your back.

I'm sorry you're such a slob.

I'm sorry for the people you live and work with.

I apologize for wanting to live in a place without heaps of cigarette butts in the streets.

See you next Tuesday.

Sincerely-

The big mean guy on the motorcycle behind you.


------------


What the fuck is wrong with you people?

I could give a flying fuck what kind of poison you sniff, snort, shoot, inhale or rub into your belly. Do what you want. Really. I could give a fat rat's ass.

BUT QUIT USING THE STREET AS YOUR FUCKING ASHTRAY.

TBG- ΜΟΛΩΝ ΛΑΒE

I Stand Corrected

In a recent post I mentioned a list of the 3 biggest lies...

1. The check is in the mail.
2. I'm from the government and I'm here to help you.
and
3. Size doesn't matter.

Well... It didn't generate a lot of commentary on the 'blog, but I did get several emails.

Let's see...

"You sick bastard..."


"WTF is wrong with you..."


"You, sir, are a sexist, chauvinistic pig..."

Yeah. Whatevs.
Apparently the girls at the office didn't like the pictures.
Read the disclaimer.

I did get four emails that called me on the carpet, as it were, regarding my assertion that these were the three biggest lies.

Constant Reader C.D. remarked that the biggest fib you'll come across on a week to week basis is this two-word sentence:

"Everything's fine."

Yikes. But, sadly, probably very true.
Anyone that has ever come home to their Significant Other and got the 'You're sooo dead' vibe and innocently asked "What's wrong?" has heard this one, or it's equivalent "Nothing".

Reader LAF opines:

"Who's still putting checks in the mail? The big lie in our neck of the woods is 'Why, no, Officer, I haven't been drinking.'
You need to fix that post."

Semi-Constant Reader DD is exceptionally cynical...
She commented that there is a huge number of liars out there in the on-line dating arena.

"Those bastards! Every f%$#@ng one of them is all
'My wife doesn't understand me' or
'I'm getting a divorce.'... Those are the big lies.
You know what guys? You're wife probably understands you perfectly."

Issues... The girl has issues. Well, not just issues, but probably a whole subscription.

The best, of course, is the one lie all of us tell all the time...
A lie I've told countless times, and I'm sure you have too.

From Constant Reader TM:

"You missed the best, most often told lie of all-
'Yes, I have read and agree to the terms and conditions of this EULA'"

(Note to Constant Readers:Help a Blogger out- make a comment; don't just send emails. I know, you don't want to register, or whatever... Comment anonymously! That works too!)


TBG- ΜΟΛΩΝ ΛΑΒE

What Is An American

[I got an e-mail today from a colleague containing a "message from a dentist in Australia". I saw this years ago, but found it amusing that it had resurfaced with attribution changed and the serial numbers filed off. I decided to post it whole rather than just quote it and provide a link...
Some number of Constant Readers (and you commie-pinkos know who you are) would see a "National Review" link and discount it out of hand, and I really would rather those individuals got a fleeting chance to read the whole thing.
It was written in September of 2001, but is so apropos even today. - TBG]

What Is An American? A primer. By Peter Ferrara, an associate professor of law at the George Mason University School of Law. September 25, 2001 9:20 a.m.

ou probably missed it in the rush of news last week, but there was actually a report that someone in Pakistan had published in a newspaper there an offer of a reward to anyone who killed an American, any American. So I just thought I would write to let them know what an American is, so they would know when they found one. An American is English…or French, or Italian, Irish, German, Spanish, Polish, Russian or Greek. An American may also be African, Indian, Chinese, Japanese, Australian, Iranian, Asian, or Arab, or Pakistani, or Afghan. An American is Christian, or he could be Jewish, or Buddhist, or Muslim. In fact, there are more Muslims in America than in Afghanistan. The only difference is that in America they are free to worship as each of them choose. An American is also free to believe in no religion. For that he will answer only to God, not to the government, or to armed thugs claiming to speak for the government and for God. An American is from the most prosperous land in the history of the world. The root of that prosperity can be found in the Declaration of Independence, which recognizes the God-given right of each man and woman to the pursuit of happiness. An American is generous. Americans have helped out just about every other nation in the world in their time of need. When Afghanistan was overrun by the Soviet army 20 years ago, Americans came with arms and supplies to enable the people to win back their country.  As of the morning of September 11, Americans had given more than any other nation to the poor in Afghanistan. An American does not have to obey the mad ravings of ignorant, ungodly cruel, old men. American men will not be fooled into giving up their lives to kill innocent people, so that these foolish old men may hold on to power. American women are free to show their beautiful faces to the world, as each of them choose. An American is free to criticize his government's officials when they are wrong, in his or her own opinion. Then he is free to replace them, by majority vote. Americans welcome people from all lands, all cultures, all religions, because they are not afraid. They are not afraid that their history, their religion, their beliefs, will be overrun, or forgotten. That is because they know they are free to hold to their religion, their beliefs, their history, as each of them choose. And just as Americans welcome all, they enjoy the best that everyone has to bring, from all over the world. The best science, the best technology, the best products, the best books, the best music, the best food, the best athletes. Americans welcome the best, but they also welcome the least. The nation symbol of America welcomes your tired and your poor, the wretched refuse of your teeming shores, the homeless, tempest tossed. These in fact are the people who built America. Many of them were working in the twin towers on the morning of September 11, earning a better life for their families. So you can try to kill an American if you must. Hitler did. So did General Tojo and Stalin and Mao Tse-Tung, and every bloodthirsty tyrant in the history of the world. But in doing so you would just be killing yourself. Because Americans are not a particular people from a particular place. They are the embodiment of the human spirit of freedom. Everyone who holds to that spirit, everywhere, is an American. So look around you. You may find more Americans in your land than you thought were there. One day they will rise up and overthrow the old, ignorant, tired tyrants that trouble too many lands. Then those lands too will join the community of free and prosperous nations. And America will welcome them.

TBG- ΜΟΛΩΝ ΛΑΒE

University Fundraising Response... Winner!

From Best of Craigslist
File under "Letters to People Unlikely to Respond"

Dear University Alumni Office,

I'm sorry to hear that the university's $750 million endowment has fallen in value to $500 million because of the recession and because your bank died. I'm also sorry to hear that you're dealing with declining enrollment due to the fact that middle-class families are no longer willing or able to bet their homes on a $45,000-a-year higher education for their children. I really am.

So, what I want to know is, why are you wasting money on glossy fundraising brochures full of meaningless synonyms for the word "Excellence"? And, why are you sending them to ME? Yes, I know that I got a master's degree at your fine institution, but that master's degree hasn't done jack shit for me since I got it! I have been unemployed for the past TWO YEARS and I am now a professional resume-submitter, sending out dozens of resumes a month to employers, and the degree I received in your hallowed halls is at the TOP OF IT and it doesn't do a fucking thing.

You know, maybe if you wanted a little bit of money from me (and these days you'd get about $3) maybe you should send me a fancy color brochure admitting your role in the bubble economics that got us all in to this mess.

For example, since 1987, higher education expenses have gone up 450 percent, while personal income in this country has gone up 87 percent, making tuition IMPOSSIBLE to afford without special financing. But, during this time, you were thriving because people could come up with the cash in two ways:

1. Get a home equity loan and use the inflated value of their house to pay for their kid to get drunk and/or raped at your school and then lose the house when the market crashed.
2. Get a federal loan.

HAD IT OCCURRED TO YOU THAT NEITHER OF THESE SOURCES OF MONEY ACTUALLY EXIST? THAT IT WAS BEING MANUFACTURED BECAUSE YOU MADE PEOPLE THINK THAT ONE OF YOUR DEGREES WAS NECESSARY TO CLIMB TO THE TOP OF THE BUBBLE?

Oh yes, federal loans. I've got $40,000 of those, which are in "forebearance" right now because I'm unemployed, meaning that the feds are paying the interest for a while, which is convenient for me, but not for our government which is now owned by China. You know, the idea behind federal loans was that it would allow more students to attend your university, not let you INFLATE your tuition to obscene levels! I mean, what the fuck were you spending the $16,000 per semester on, anyway? I was in a public policy program, so that meant we got to sit in classrooms and listen to Professor God up at the front of the lecture hall glorify Himself and Creation as He saw it and talk about how much smarter he was than anyone else and how much he'd learned at MIT and the RAND Corporation.

Really, that's about all you did for us -- gave us a lecture hall, gave us an arrogant bastard to listen to, and gave us a room full of computers we could use sometimes, and you gave us a degree that employers look at and say "This guy knows how to write reports. Amusing." And I will be paying for this privilege until I am 51 years old.

So I'm sorry that the economy's been rough on you. Maybe, if you wanted to save a little money, you could stop printing and sending brochures to my parents' house (oh yeah, that's where I live because I can't afford rent on ANYTHING). And, maybe I'll donate a little bit of money to you in 2030, when I get the loans for your imaginary education PAID OFF!

Sincerely yours,
Alumnus


TBG- ΜΟΛΩΝ ΛΑΒE

Letters to People Unlikely to Respond - Part 243

To the girl in Costco who sneered at me as I was evaluating the pork shoulders...

Since you probably won't listen to an argument, I'll use a visual aid:




Thank you and screw you.

TBG- ΜΟΛΩΝ ΛΑΒE
h/t to SL for the pic. Thx dude!

Letters to People Unlikely to Respond

Dear Congressperson

Feeling a sense of relief?
Think the pressure is off and you can head home for the Easter break and relax?

Think again.

If you voted for Health Care Reform Obama's Steaming Hunk Of Shit, your political career is over.



Keep spending money we don't have between now and the November elections...
I'll be stockpiling a large supply tar and feathers.

You people have lost your minds.

Assholes.

Fuck all of you.
Fuck you with ten feet of shit-smeared wrought-iron fencing.
Twice.
Sideways.



TBG- ΜΟΛΩΝ ΛΑΒE

Note to Self: Avoid Craigslist Personals

As he says at the end, if she did it to end the date early,
it's a pretty creative solution...

TBG- ΜΟΛΩΝ ΛΑΒE

Letters to People Unlikely to Respond: Atlanta-to-LA Pee-Brain

To the girl with RLS and the grape-sized bladder sitting behind me for the last 4 hours.

Honey.

Your incessant kicking of the bottom of my seat for the last four hours is going to earn you a thumping you will not long forget.

The only thing more irritating than the constant drumming of my ass by your foot is the way you grab the back of my seat and use it to lever yourself up when you head for the restroom... You drag the top of my seat back 8 or 10 inches, then release it to impact me between the shoulder blades.
It feels like there's enough kinetic energy there to fling a 3-pound slab of bacon to escape velocity and into Low-Earth Orbit.
The first time was a surprise; the third and fifth time you did it were more than just an irritation....
But you have now upped the ante by using my seat as a pivot-point to swing yourself down into your seat like an incontinent pole-dancing stripper with Parkinsons...
I am just barely able to suppress the urge to whack you upside your vacuous cranium so hard that you'd hum like a 10-penny finishing nail struck with a greasy ball-peen hammer.

Fock it the knuck off already.

TBG - ΜΟΛΩΝ ΛΑΒΕ

Letters from the Road - 6

To the clueless mouth-breather camped out in the left lane:

Hey, if cars are continuously passing you on the right, you are going too slow for that lane.
Do us all a favor- right blinker, wait for an opportunity, then drift right. Blinker off.

Is that so hard?

TBG - ΜΟΛΩΝ ΛΑΒΕ

Note from Building 7

Ah. I have found where they are storing all the dead leaves this year...

Right under the rack where I'm installing the test equipment, of course.

TBG - ΜΟΛΩΝ ΛΑΒΕ

Letters from the Road - 5

To you *@#$ing rubber-necked Yankees:

Look! Another fellow Yankee getting a ticket.

Keep moving.
People get tickets all the time. If you've seen one, you've seen 'em all-
No need to slow down, point and/or gawk.
Keep your eyes on the traffic in front of you, maintain a safe speed and act normal.

Weeping Jeebus, Yankees!

TBG - ΜΟΛΩΝ ΛΑΒΕ

Letters to People Unlikely to Respond.

To the girl on JTButler Blvd on Friday morning,



Honey-

Put the %$@*ing make-up on at home, before you leave for work.

Seriously...
You just aren't good at multitasking.

You're applying eyeliner while driving your BMW SUV at 50 miles per... The speed limit is 60 and people are usually going 65 or 70...
Someone is going to rear-end you (and not in the good way IYKWIM wink-wink) and that eyeliner applicator is going to be a permanent part of your left eye.
(This will probably necessitate a completely different kind of makeup, and perhaps you will refrain from putting it on while you are heading to work...)

And I don't know if you were singing, talking to someone hands-free, or just in a heated conversation with the voices in your head, but knock it off- it looked like you were going into a full-goose-bozo hissyfit as I was passing you... It was frightening.
Don't do that, it scares the rest of us that are trying to get to work in one piece, unscathed by psychotic eye-makeup-applying American Idol Wannabes.

Oh, and lose the PeTA sticker in the back window, it clashes with your leather seats.

TBG - ΜΟΛΩΝ ΛΑΒΕ

Letters from the Road - 4

To the Dumbasses on I-95 outside Smithfield NC:

Hey you Idjits,
If the cop is doing 65mph in a 70mph zone...
PASS HIM!
Really...
It's okay.

TBG - Not in a hurry...