inherently different

Archive for May, 2005

In a bizarre twist of fate, I’ve just been assigned these article topics by my publisher:

Chinese Medicine
Natural Health
Oriental Medicine (O.M.D.)
Equine Massage Specialist

In case you’re sitting there saying, "So?" I said this a little over a month ago. The gods have a way of punishing hubris…

I realize that I’m not the typical Maui resident. I’m not a geriatric nor am I a linguistically challenged meathead. Physically, my best days are slowly shrinking in the rear view mirror, but I’m still the sharpest tool in this shed.

I’ve been stewing for these last few hours about how incredibly fucktarded some people can be here on Maui. Not just cockknocking neighbors with pisspoor vertical parking abilities either. The typical Maui resident has the mental capacity of a bowl of fruit. Tropical fruit, but fruit nonetheless. I’m faced with this fact whenever I have to sally forth and interact with the natives. Most people on Maui, both local kines and haole (native islanders and white people), speak in a dialect that is so offensive to my ear, that it’s all I can do to keep from developing a plague capable of wiping them all off the planet.

Let me give you some examples:

Minors (My nuz): Not a big deal. "No, got a ride? Minors, brah, I pick you up, eh?"

No Make li’dat (No Make Lye Dat): Don’t act that way. "Eh, you no make li’dat!"

Bumbye (bum buy): Soon. It’s the only measurement of time on Maui. "Bumbye, we go ovah."

Moke (moke): Big one local boy who crush your head like coconut. Male counterpart to TITA.

TITA (Tee Ta): Female with a special way of putting things. Usually asskickery ensues when she gets mad.

There are many more. I hear it all the time and it sounds like someone is feeding broken glass to a cat. If I had to choose one thing that makes living here difficult, it is the fact that a large portion of the population is dumber than a box of dead batteries. Not everyone of course, but enough to push me the wrong way.

Our parking space is next to the parking space of someone who is a cockknocker. This piece of shit can’t park to save his life. You’d think he was a 16 year old girl considering how poorly he parks… at the very least he seems to show little consideration for whether or not we can get into our parking space.

I really dislike people who can’t be bothered to show even the slightest amount of consideration for others.

Now, before you remind me that I am an admitted asshole, know that I am a considerate asshole first and foremost. It is only when you exhibit certain unsavory behaviors that I will unleash the full power of my malevolence. I’m like a Sith Lord… Darth Asshole if you will. My powers granted by the darkside are far superior to those of mere mortals. I could crush him like a nerf herder if I wanted to.

Alas, it is hard to hide bodies here on Maui. Otherwise this cockknocker would be the first in a long line of fucktards I excise the gene pool.

I’m having an argument with myself. As is usually the case in such situations, I’m winning and losing at the same time.

"I’m bored with these links."

"Well, just delete them all. Start over."

"Some of these people link me! I can’t just delete their links."

"Why not? What makes you think the links on your site back to theirs mean anything to them? Your daily traffic total hasn’t exceeded the day’s temperature in months."

"That’s beside the point. The links are a show of solidarity."

"Who do you think you are? Lech Walesa?"

"No, I just mean that these people link me and by doing so, show that I am an ally."

"Allies don’t call each other names. When’s the last time Tony Blair called George Bush cockknocker?"

"Cocksucker."

"Whatever."

"I just can’t delete them. Each one is valuable. Like the virtual equivalent of a hundred dollar bill."

"You just erased two today. Didn’t bat an eyelash!"

"Neither of those two bloggers has visited this site for months. I doubt they’ll even notice they’ve been banished."

"NONE OF THESE PEOPLE WOULD! That’s my point."

"Well, I won’t do it. Not until they piss me off or something."

"Given your recent ability to piss people off, that shouldn’t take long."

"True. You’re onto something there…"

"Yeah, sure… piss them off and they’ll delink you… Reminds me a lot of a couple of recent relationships you’ve had. Remind me to nominate you for passive-aggressive of the month."

"Fuck you, you heinous troll."

"Right."

I posted a comment on another blog recently and it drove a few people to visit me here. Now, I usually post comments using an email address that I created specifically for such instances. Not because I’m afraid of getting spam, but because the Internet never forgets. I still can google comments that I made on Usenet more than 10 years ago.

Anyway, I just received three emails from a few people calling me “asshole.” Under normal circumstances, I wouldn’t even bother. Heck, I’ve been called worse by much more interesting people… But I just had to respond publicly to one particular email.

To: The Poor Misguided Fool
RE: I Hate Assholes!

Message: While it is true that I am indeed an asshole, I have never pretended to be anything more or less. The fact that you were compelled to write me a private message detailing your contempt is actually quite flattering. Well, it would be flattering if I really gave a rat’s ass what you thought…

Well, the word “thought” is probably not the best choice to describe the firing (or misfiring) of synapses that prompted you to write me that poorly veiled come on. Thankfully you were able to restrain yourself before you did something that you would have regretted… like attaching a JPG of your Mandrill-like ass. While it is arguable that you would have come to your senses if you had taken the time to read anything on the blog that was linked to my name in that comment, I will err on the side of caution. I’m also pretty sure that you wouldn’t have hit SEND had you known what my response would be.

See there is an order to the universe. An order that can be used to illustrate exactly where on the scale of value you sit. Let’s start at the top and work down shall we?

At the top is my opinion. It has the highest value, since, well, let’s face it, I’m smarter than you.

Next come the people I care about. My GF, my family, and my good friends. In that order.

Next come the few bloggers with whom I have developed tenuous, but interesting friendships.

Next come the random people who I find interesting, even when they prove that they possess the IQ of sand.

After that come the lower life forms… viruses, plagues, people who call themselves healers.

Next come single-celled organisms.

Close on their heels (do they even have heels?) come assorted types of fecal matter.

(Don’t worry; we’re getting to you)

Next come various inanimate objects, like my chair, the door by our pool, and the Zippy’s sign in Kahalui.

After that come dust bunnies. I’ve always liked dust bunnies.

Next come clowns. I can’t stand clowns, but at least they’re better than the last position on the list. Which brings us to…

You.

You might wonder (again that might be a misguided attempt to define the misfiring of synapses that passes as your intelligence) why I would take the time to post this message to you. Well, the truth is that I made a promise to myself a few days ago. I will no longer allow morons to go through life bringing down the collective intelligence of humanity without at least attempting to throw a little light on the dark chasm of their stupidity.

By the way, you misspelled “offensive”… as you can see, there is more than one F in that particular word.

I’ll leave you with a word with a single F: Fuck… as in “fuck you, you heinous troll.”

Thanks for playing. Now paddle back to the shallow end before I really get angry.

Did I mention that I would no longer censor myself? Perhaps I should have also mentioned that I would take that particular show on the road and not censor my comments on my favorite blogs… too late, I guess. Sorry I caused a ruckus on your blog Limey… I’m pretty sure at least one of your frequent visitors was appalled by my position on war…

I like zombies. Anyone who pays attention to the way I operate will probably say, “It figures.” See, I believe zombies are the perfect human machines*. No longer tied to the rules that hold humanity back, zombies are free to explore the undiscovered territory of their potential. Humans are, by and large, held back by two traits that are not present in a zombie… emotion and thought. Without those two abilities, humans could exist happily, and like zombies, forever.

I’m not an emotional guy. I don’t cry at the end of Old Yeller, and in fact I find sentimentality rather mundane. As far as I’m concerned, emotions are really a poor use of energy and I would rather scoop my eyes out with a rusty spoon than to expend energy crying, being sad, or worrying about things I can’t control. I am, in other words, an emotional zombie and proud of that fact.

Speaking of Zombies, there are two great things on the horizon for zombie lovers like myself. The first is George A. Romero’s Land of the Dead and the Spiereg Brother’s Undead. If you want to prepare for the onslaught of zombie entertainment in the coming months, you’d do well to read The Zombie Survival Guide: Complete Protection from the Living Dead. I’ve read it and found it to be chockful of hundreds of useful tips one might need in the case that the world is overrun by the walking dead.

*Note: I am well aware that zombies do not exist. Please do not write to tell me what I already know.

Date: September 26, 2004 12:19
From: monkeydiarist@gmail.com
To: Buzzine Magazine
Importance: Medium
Subject: Horrible grammar!

Message: I just paid a visit to your Website and watched an ad for the Buzzine Photo Galleries. The copy in the banner read, "Amazing exclusive photo’s from movie set’s and more. Check them out in the Buzzine Galleries!"

Maybe English is your second language, or you’re a team of homeless people working out of box in an alley, or perhaps you’re talented journalists trying to do your best to keep fans informed, but can only afford a cheap word processor that doesn’t have a grammar checker. I’m personally leaning toward thinking you employ a monkey to bang on keys in the hope that your target audience will understand a portion of what spills forth.

To be clear, your banner ad should read, "Amazing exclusive photos from movie sets and more. Check them out in the Buzzine Galleries!" A quick pass by a qualified proofreader or even grammar check in Microsoft Word would let you know that none of the words in that ad require an apostrophe. Apostrophes are used to note possession, contractions, or omitted letters in a word.

Now, I’m sure that your monkey works cheaply, but I would suggest, since you do publish a "professional" webzine, that you invest in either a proofreader or a better word processor. In the long run, you’ll find it a wise investment. At the very least, it will prevent random emails from nitpicky assholes like myself.

Warmest regards,

E!

———————————————————————————————

Subject:    Horrible grammar!
Date:    5/21/2005 4:36:01 AM Eastern Daylight Time
From:    "Aaron Sxxxxx" <xxxx@xxxxx.com>
To:    <monkeydiarist@gmail.com>
Organization:    xxxxxx Media

E,

English is my first, and only language.
And, we’re not a bunch of kids (I’m 41, and CEO).
We are journalists.
We do need another proofreader.
Everyone I hire speaks English as their native tongue.
I have some overzealous staff members who post before proofing (myself
included). I applaud your honest critique, pithy wit and honesty. Thanks,
and we’ll do our best to keep it on tract.

Take care,

Aaron Sxxxxx

—————————————————————————————

Now, the question: Should I email him back and ask him whether or not he thinks that hitting RETURN after every sentence fools me into thinking he knows how to punctuate and structure a sentence? Or if he knows the difference between the words "tract" and "track," especially when one is better suited to his meaning than the other? Is this a lost cause?

Notice the date I sent the original message… and the date he responded… nothing like showing your readership how seriously you take their concerns.

I’ve begun to censor myself. I don’t know when it began, but I know that I’ve done it to a certain extent. Some of you may be thinking, “er, no… he says some pretty fucked up shit, so he can’t possibly be censoring himself!”

Well, it is true, and well… I’m not going to to it anymore. Whatever button operates the self-censorship mechanism of my psyche has now been officially retired… again.

From now on, the thoughts that happen to surface and appear here won’t be tainted by what I refer to as the “honesty puss out.”

This will be the only warning and from here on out, I am not responsible for the fits of uncontrollable anger nor the abyss of torment my literary meanderings might illicit from you, my adoring fans.

Ever wonder why people say the things they say, then get upset when you look at them like they’re crazy?

I should have gone into law… trial law at that.

It is overcast here today. The first bit of respite from the heavy hand of the sun god. I hope it rains and washes away all the tourists.

The one thing I dislike about Netflix is that I can’t hunt down the bastards who may have watched a DVD before me. Not that I like to be first, but sometimes these cockknockers scratch the disc and render it unviewable. At least with blockbuster I can finagle some info from the moron behind the counter.

I need a bike. I need to lose 25 lbs.