Tuesday, June 30, 2009
Ignorance: It's How the Democrats Stay in Power
And that's not even a slam. It's true.
If people were educated about just some basic simple economic principles and tenets as well as some basic statistics, the democratic party would go the way of the communists in Russia and Beanie Babies in the suburbs.
Alas, capitalism produces so much wealth that it pacifies the masses intellect into laziness and sloth, making them ripe picking for idiotic ideologies or religions like global warming and socialism.
Regardless, here is a recent example of such ignorance. The API (American Petroleum Institute) came out with it's 3rd annual "Energy IQ" survey. It's scary just how much it's like an intellectual version of Jay Leno's "Jay Walking."
Now there were many questions, the results of which you can find here, but my favorite is this one in that it shows you just how damn ignorant the masses are and how easy it is to get them to believe lies:
I'm being dead serious when I say there must be some kind of civics or intelligence test before you can vote. Call it dictatorial, but you'll all soon pay the costs for giving any uninformed, dumbass moron out there the right to vote.
Oh, and let me point out again
BIG OIL DIDN'T NEED A BAIL OUT
If people were educated about just some basic simple economic principles and tenets as well as some basic statistics, the democratic party would go the way of the communists in Russia and Beanie Babies in the suburbs.
Alas, capitalism produces so much wealth that it pacifies the masses intellect into laziness and sloth, making them ripe picking for idiotic ideologies or religions like global warming and socialism.
Regardless, here is a recent example of such ignorance. The API (American Petroleum Institute) came out with it's 3rd annual "Energy IQ" survey. It's scary just how much it's like an intellectual version of Jay Leno's "Jay Walking."
Now there were many questions, the results of which you can find here, but my favorite is this one in that it shows you just how damn ignorant the masses are and how easy it is to get them to believe lies:
I'm being dead serious when I say there must be some kind of civics or intelligence test before you can vote. Call it dictatorial, but you'll all soon pay the costs for giving any uninformed, dumbass moron out there the right to vote.
Oh, and let me point out again
BIG OIL DIDN'T NEED A BAIL OUT
Wal-Mart Cheaper Than Goodwill
Given this horrible recession and dire economy and while you wait around for Barack Our Saviour Obama to help, I thought it worthy pointing out that the much vilified and hated Wal-Mart has done more to help those of you suffering from the recession than our blessed government.
You can go to Wal-Mart and get the cheapest prices on practically EVERYTHING, which makes your dollars go further, but more importantly, INCREASES YOUR STANDARDS OF LIVING (those bastards!).
Now I know elite, faux-poor, trust fund babies will still rally against Wal-Mart, claiming they hurt the poor, while ignoring the fact the real poor go there for a reason, but just to show you the sheer power of a free, capitalistic entity such as Wal-Mart, I forgot to mention an interesting story.
The other day I went to Goodwill. Because Goodwill is cheap and proceeds go to help the poor. But when I couldn't find the particular picture frame I wanted, I had to go to Wal-Mart.
Thinking it would be more expensive, I was happy to find out that the management and business model of Wal-Mart is SO efficient, A BRAND NEW PICTURE FRAME WAS CHEAPER THAN A USED ONE AT GOODWILL.
Wal-Mart beating Goodwill on price.
Wow. That's really got to throw leftist religion for a loop.
You can go to Wal-Mart and get the cheapest prices on practically EVERYTHING, which makes your dollars go further, but more importantly, INCREASES YOUR STANDARDS OF LIVING (those bastards!).
Now I know elite, faux-poor, trust fund babies will still rally against Wal-Mart, claiming they hurt the poor, while ignoring the fact the real poor go there for a reason, but just to show you the sheer power of a free, capitalistic entity such as Wal-Mart, I forgot to mention an interesting story.
The other day I went to Goodwill. Because Goodwill is cheap and proceeds go to help the poor. But when I couldn't find the particular picture frame I wanted, I had to go to Wal-Mart.
Thinking it would be more expensive, I was happy to find out that the management and business model of Wal-Mart is SO efficient, A BRAND NEW PICTURE FRAME WAS CHEAPER THAN A USED ONE AT GOODWILL.
Wal-Mart beating Goodwill on price.
Wow. That's really got to throw leftist religion for a loop.
Because the Child Goes Well With the Drapes
I do not like children.
I have stated this before and I will continue to do so long into the future.
However, I do have an immeasurable amount of pity for children in that I remember what it was like being a child. Children are humans too.
They have the same feelings.
They have the same emotions.
But worse, they do not have the experience us adults do to explain the chaos that surrounds them. Especially if two adult children decide to bring one of these unfortunate souls into the world in a thoughtless act of passion and then use the poor kid as a chess piece when it comes to divorce time.
Ergo, children are truly innocent and why (paradoxically) I do not want any of my own, yet feel there is no other group or category of people that I have more pity and sympathy for than children.
But what I will not tolerate, because I DO GENUINELY care about children, is the god damned effing fad of having children for the sake of having children.
Let me explain.
Women want to have children.
Accepted, understood.
But when women (or sometimes men) have children because "THEY WANT TO HAVE CHILDREN" I can get no further enraged because it has immediately not become about the child, but the CHILD that wants to have a child.
"I want a child because I want a child."
Now let me explain something to all of you people who want "children."
"Children" are not effing items that go well with the drapes.
Children are not physical toys you purchase at Ikea to go well with the house.
Children are not a god damned SUV you can turn off or ship off to the mechanic to fine tune.
Children ARE HUMANS WITH REAL HUMAN EMOTIONS AND JUST AS MUCH CONSCIOUSNESS AND SENTIENTNESS AS YOU!
They suffer the same pains as you did.
They suffer the same emotions as you did.
And if you DARE bring a child into this world because it "CONVENIENCES" you, but are so selfish as to not provide a husband or father figure to this innocent soul, then you are the epitome of selfishness and why society is collapsing.
I know men are not fashionable.
I know they're not "cool."
But unfortunately MEN DO ACCOUNT FOR ROUGHLY 50% OF THE GOD DAMNED POPULATION.
And if your child, male or female, wishes to have any kind of sensible grounding or reference point as to how to interact with the opposite sex, let alone, the rest of society, they will need (a grandiose politically correct) "regrettably" father figure in the household.
I know, "DAMN FATHER FIGURES!" What do they know, those stupid males? They get in the way of me having children!
Well maybe, just maybe in 20 million years of evolution, they're there for a god damned purpose?
Look, I am all for gay marriage.
I am all for same sex couples.
Because I do know that even though they may be of the same sex, they will at least, provide the child with two parents.
But the greediness, conceitedness, and above all, selfishness of having a child because:
"I want a child"
as if he/she is like ordering freaking cable with the absence of a father
I will not stand for.
Enjoy sending your kid off to day care.
Enjoy OUTSOURCING the upbringing of your kid because s/he inconveniences you.
And when you're old
And crippled
And in a sub-par nursing home
And not getting any visits from your child
Then you'll know what it's like to be treated like a freaking consumer item and not a fellow human being.
Update. If any of you young men in your late teens and early 20's wonder why you are having problems dating girls, here's your answer.
Also a reason never to hire somebody from Yale.
I have stated this before and I will continue to do so long into the future.
However, I do have an immeasurable amount of pity for children in that I remember what it was like being a child. Children are humans too.
They have the same feelings.
They have the same emotions.
But worse, they do not have the experience us adults do to explain the chaos that surrounds them. Especially if two adult children decide to bring one of these unfortunate souls into the world in a thoughtless act of passion and then use the poor kid as a chess piece when it comes to divorce time.
Ergo, children are truly innocent and why (paradoxically) I do not want any of my own, yet feel there is no other group or category of people that I have more pity and sympathy for than children.
But what I will not tolerate, because I DO GENUINELY care about children, is the god damned effing fad of having children for the sake of having children.
Let me explain.
Women want to have children.
Accepted, understood.
But when women (or sometimes men) have children because "THEY WANT TO HAVE CHILDREN" I can get no further enraged because it has immediately not become about the child, but the CHILD that wants to have a child.
"I want a child because I want a child."
Now let me explain something to all of you people who want "children."
"Children" are not effing items that go well with the drapes.
Children are not physical toys you purchase at Ikea to go well with the house.
Children are not a god damned SUV you can turn off or ship off to the mechanic to fine tune.
Children ARE HUMANS WITH REAL HUMAN EMOTIONS AND JUST AS MUCH CONSCIOUSNESS AND SENTIENTNESS AS YOU!
They suffer the same pains as you did.
They suffer the same emotions as you did.
And if you DARE bring a child into this world because it "CONVENIENCES" you, but are so selfish as to not provide a husband or father figure to this innocent soul, then you are the epitome of selfishness and why society is collapsing.
I know men are not fashionable.
I know they're not "cool."
But unfortunately MEN DO ACCOUNT FOR ROUGHLY 50% OF THE GOD DAMNED POPULATION.
And if your child, male or female, wishes to have any kind of sensible grounding or reference point as to how to interact with the opposite sex, let alone, the rest of society, they will need (a grandiose politically correct) "regrettably" father figure in the household.
I know, "DAMN FATHER FIGURES!" What do they know, those stupid males? They get in the way of me having children!
Well maybe, just maybe in 20 million years of evolution, they're there for a god damned purpose?
Look, I am all for gay marriage.
I am all for same sex couples.
Because I do know that even though they may be of the same sex, they will at least, provide the child with two parents.
But the greediness, conceitedness, and above all, selfishness of having a child because:
"I want a child"
as if he/she is like ordering freaking cable with the absence of a father
I will not stand for.
Enjoy sending your kid off to day care.
Enjoy OUTSOURCING the upbringing of your kid because s/he inconveniences you.
And when you're old
And crippled
And in a sub-par nursing home
And not getting any visits from your child
Then you'll know what it's like to be treated like a freaking consumer item and not a fellow human being.
Update. If any of you young men in your late teens and early 20's wonder why you are having problems dating girls, here's your answer.
Also a reason never to hire somebody from Yale.
Old Things I've Found Cleaning
Further accelerating "Operation: Clean Out the House" I happened upon this which I estimate dates back to 1993.
You're young, you can spare a bladder.
Which is essentially all social security and medicare really is.
You're young, you can spare a bladder.
Which is essentially all social security and medicare really is.
Monday, June 29, 2009
Sunday, June 28, 2009
Stalking - An Example. YidWithLid
Please read my previous post on "stalking and why they do it"here
Another victim of a psychopath The Stumbling Block has been through hell and back with "YWL" (The psychopath in her life) but that hell is still ongoing as he refuses to STOP STALKING her. Even though the NYPD is involved in the case.
Here is an excerpt from the entry on her website which you can find here
"Just a couple weeks after [YWL]s extramarital activities were found out and we had our “falling out” (he never contacted me after threatening me, never tried to speak with me or explain… I guess that’s his definition of …uh …falling out), I was checking the hit meter for my personal blog.
I stopped short. My PTSD anxiety hit the gas. I was actually shaking.
I was being watched. Yes, me – the “stalker”! I was being stalked!
By YWL. I double and tripled checked and sent it to a geek friend and yes, he was on my blog. Regularly – maybe once a week at least.
I told my counselor, who knew I loved writing and having a blog. She advised me to find a way to block him from my blog if it was so triggering to me. I didn’t want to take it down and start over. I have been blogging since 2002. I really had nothing to hide. Unfortunately, my blog platform does not yet allow for IP blocking."
Of course we are to cut YWL all sorts of slack for my ‘hurting him, his family, etc.’ but no slack for me being completely traumatized, ending up in the hospital a few times, being unable to drive or do much for weeks thereafter, dismantling my computer (according to him I was supposedly stalking & harrassing him then.) – noooo, somehow he stalks me and reads all my pain & anguish but HE’S THE VICTIM. Scary.
Heaven forbid I was something that was a real human being not some THING that could be clicked off with his mouse or blocked on IM, huh?
Please read the rest of her site, and the rest of the Entry
What astonishes me is even when the psychopath/stalker has been caught out, he still DOES IT! he carries on! it's an obsession! The psychopath doesn't stop thinking about himself long enough to realize his victims are smart! and can call them on their behaviour yet the psychopath will still stand there and in plain sight proclaim that "he is the victim" . It's any wonder why they carry on after being exposed, yet we all know it's a compulsion.
“You are dealing with a totally delusional human being, who builds his own fantasies about his reality and believes his own pathological lies. How can you possibly hope to have a healthy relationship with someone who bases his whole existence on deceit? IMPOSSIBLE! And don’t kid yourself – They know exactly what they are doing – They prey, victimize, and devastate.”"
On Prison Ink Both Good and Bad but Mostly Bad
(Part 1 by Polish Avenger)
Polish Avenger – Formerly an undergraduate in software engineering, he was sentenced to 25 years because his friend was shot dead during a burglary, and in Arizona if a burglar gets killed then the accomplices get 25 year sentences.
Prisoners are a heavily tattooed bunch. Several reasons include:
- work done in here is a lot cheaper – a couple of packs of smokes versus thousands of dollars out there
- we can express individuality through rebellion and unique markings – cue Patrick McGoohan in The Prisoner, “I am not a number. I am a free man!”
- we join gangs and have to show how down we are
- we get bored and have nothing better to do
It’s a shame that so much prison work sucks. Sure, there are a few exceptions, but by and large most of it is crappy. Most doesn’t start that way. Guys spend literally hundreds of hours under the artist’s needle, drawing some fantastically intricate and well-shaded designs. Just doing one shoulder to wrist can run upwards of 20 hours, depending on the design and artist. It’ll look great for about two years, after which the whole thing will turn blue and smear together.
A large part of the problem is the ink. Since they won’t sell us real tattoo ink we must rely on homebrewed versions. The basic recipe is to find some plastic (dominoes, chess pieces, etc.) or a tub of hair grease, light it ablaze and capture the resulting soot. Now those of you with a chemistry background will know that burning said compounds produces a whole range of delightfully toxic cancer-causing byproducts. So what to do with these byproducts, i.e. soot? What else, inject them into your skin! I honestly don’t know if inked-up cons have higher cancer rates – that would be an interesting medical study.
Other sources of ink I’ve seen over the years have included inkjet cartridges and even copier toner powder. We can only imagine the chemical soup in that stuff. Ah, well. The important thing is Get the tattoo done no matter what!
After all that, the curious thing is that once all the endless, agonizing hours are put in, nobody really looks at them any more. Maybe in here, we’re all so used to nearly everyone being “slung down” that we hardly notice. Hell, when I first came in it was a bit of a shock, especially seeing the fellows with the fully decorated shaved head and/or face. I’d think, Geez, that dude is hardcore! Now it doesn’t even warrant a second glance. About the only similar reaction today is seeing someone with no tattoos – and the thought is, Geez, what a sissy.
Click here for Polisher Avenger’s first blog.
Our friends inside appreciate your comments.
Email comments and questions for Polish Avenger to writeinside@hotmail.com or post them below. To post a comment if you do not have a Google/Blogger account, just select anonymous for your identity.
Shaun P. Attwood
(Part 1 by Polish Avenger)
Polish Avenger – Formerly an undergraduate in software engineering, he was sentenced to 25 years because his friend was shot dead during a burglary, and in Arizona if a burglar gets killed then the accomplices get 25 year sentences.
Prisoners are a heavily tattooed bunch. Several reasons include:
- work done in here is a lot cheaper – a couple of packs of smokes versus thousands of dollars out there
- we can express individuality through rebellion and unique markings – cue Patrick McGoohan in The Prisoner, “I am not a number. I am a free man!”
- we join gangs and have to show how down we are
- we get bored and have nothing better to do
It’s a shame that so much prison work sucks. Sure, there are a few exceptions, but by and large most of it is crappy. Most doesn’t start that way. Guys spend literally hundreds of hours under the artist’s needle, drawing some fantastically intricate and well-shaded designs. Just doing one shoulder to wrist can run upwards of 20 hours, depending on the design and artist. It’ll look great for about two years, after which the whole thing will turn blue and smear together.
A large part of the problem is the ink. Since they won’t sell us real tattoo ink we must rely on homebrewed versions. The basic recipe is to find some plastic (dominoes, chess pieces, etc.) or a tub of hair grease, light it ablaze and capture the resulting soot. Now those of you with a chemistry background will know that burning said compounds produces a whole range of delightfully toxic cancer-causing byproducts. So what to do with these byproducts, i.e. soot? What else, inject them into your skin! I honestly don’t know if inked-up cons have higher cancer rates – that would be an interesting medical study.
Other sources of ink I’ve seen over the years have included inkjet cartridges and even copier toner powder. We can only imagine the chemical soup in that stuff. Ah, well. The important thing is Get the tattoo done no matter what!
After all that, the curious thing is that once all the endless, agonizing hours are put in, nobody really looks at them any more. Maybe in here, we’re all so used to nearly everyone being “slung down” that we hardly notice. Hell, when I first came in it was a bit of a shock, especially seeing the fellows with the fully decorated shaved head and/or face. I’d think, Geez, that dude is hardcore! Now it doesn’t even warrant a second glance. About the only similar reaction today is seeing someone with no tattoos – and the thought is, Geez, what a sissy.
Click here for Polisher Avenger’s first blog.
Our friends inside appreciate your comments.
Email comments and questions for Polish Avenger to writeinside@hotmail.com or post them below. To post a comment if you do not have a Google/Blogger account, just select anonymous for your identity.
Shaun P. Attwood
Saturday, June 27, 2009
Minneapolis Morons
You have to read this. This is the crap I have to deal with in Minneapolis.
I will make several observations and comments;
1. Neither one of these morons produces enough to support themselves. And it would not surprise me that either they are;
a. Spoiled brat suburbanite children whose parents have paid for everything
b. Spoiled brat government children whose government has paid for everything
In either case, neither one of them hold real jobs and rely on other people to take care of them.
2. Wild, crazy guess here, NEITHER ONE VOTED FOR JOHN MCCAIN
3. They didn't major in real subjects in college (if attended at all) because if they did, they may have had the engineering skills to make sure their engine would RUN MORE THAN 2 FREAKING MILES BEFORE CONKING OUT
4. "Alcohol was found on the scene." NOOOOOOOO!!!!
I will make several observations and comments;
1. Neither one of these morons produces enough to support themselves. And it would not surprise me that either they are;
a. Spoiled brat suburbanite children whose parents have paid for everything
b. Spoiled brat government children whose government has paid for everything
In either case, neither one of them hold real jobs and rely on other people to take care of them.
2. Wild, crazy guess here, NEITHER ONE VOTED FOR JOHN MCCAIN
3. They didn't major in real subjects in college (if attended at all) because if they did, they may have had the engineering skills to make sure their engine would RUN MORE THAN 2 FREAKING MILES BEFORE CONKING OUT
4. "Alcohol was found on the scene." NOOOOOOOO!!!!
Friday, June 26, 2009
Postcards from Long Island (6)
Long Island - Promising young cellmate I taught to trade the financial markets. Released on the 11th of December '05 and rearrested February ’08. Alleged to have committed forgery and hit an officer with a car. He is writing from Sheriff Joe Arpaio’s Lower Buckeye jail.
Shaun,
What’s up, bro?
I had a very successful court appearance last week. We were able to demonstrate some weaknesses in 2 of the main charges. After my lawyer spoke, he and the prosecutor ironed out plea bargains for 4 out of 5 of the charges, and for the fifth we got a verbal offer.
First, they’re going to run everything concurrent. I’ll be getting 4.5 years plus probation on the fraud cases. Only probation on the aggravated I.D. theft. And our verbal agreement for the aggravated assault is 6.5. I feel like I was given my life back.
Everything needs to be done by December 12th. That’s when my trial date is. By then I’ll have 2 years backtime. So, with the 2 years and the 85% to serve, I’ll be home in about 3 years.
Everything fell into place beautifully. The prosecutor is being very fair. My lawyer is brilliant, and the judge has been generous. She gave us 7 more months to work all of the details out.
I feel so blessed. No other words can describe my feelings. It’s been a long road, Shaun. This last year and a half has taken a lot out of me, but has also put a lot in. Facing being shot at by the police, then facing a 20 year sentence has impacted me in new ways that I discover every day. Maybe you understand what I mean.
All around me people are getting so much time. This new county attorney is relentless. Sentences are getting longer and longer. The State of Arizona developed a new plan to deal with the budget cuts. Everyone thought they would start with early Arizona Department of Corrections’ releases…wrong. ADOC has put up for sale every complex except for Florence and Buckeye. Privatization. So if you’re in the market you can buy your own prison complex. They say the sale will bring the immediate cash they need. So Arizona will continue to become even more of a police state than it already is.
Well, my friend, I’m happy to be able to finally share some good news with you.
Take care,
Long Island
Click here for Long Island’s previous blog.
Our friends inside appreciate your comments.
Email comments for Long Island to writeinside@hotmail.com or post them below. To post a comment if you do not have a Google/Blogger account, just select anonymous for your identity.
Shaun P. Attwood
Long Island - Promising young cellmate I taught to trade the financial markets. Released on the 11th of December '05 and rearrested February ’08. Alleged to have committed forgery and hit an officer with a car. He is writing from Sheriff Joe Arpaio’s Lower Buckeye jail.
Shaun,
What’s up, bro?
I had a very successful court appearance last week. We were able to demonstrate some weaknesses in 2 of the main charges. After my lawyer spoke, he and the prosecutor ironed out plea bargains for 4 out of 5 of the charges, and for the fifth we got a verbal offer.
First, they’re going to run everything concurrent. I’ll be getting 4.5 years plus probation on the fraud cases. Only probation on the aggravated I.D. theft. And our verbal agreement for the aggravated assault is 6.5. I feel like I was given my life back.
Everything needs to be done by December 12th. That’s when my trial date is. By then I’ll have 2 years backtime. So, with the 2 years and the 85% to serve, I’ll be home in about 3 years.
Everything fell into place beautifully. The prosecutor is being very fair. My lawyer is brilliant, and the judge has been generous. She gave us 7 more months to work all of the details out.
I feel so blessed. No other words can describe my feelings. It’s been a long road, Shaun. This last year and a half has taken a lot out of me, but has also put a lot in. Facing being shot at by the police, then facing a 20 year sentence has impacted me in new ways that I discover every day. Maybe you understand what I mean.
All around me people are getting so much time. This new county attorney is relentless. Sentences are getting longer and longer. The State of Arizona developed a new plan to deal with the budget cuts. Everyone thought they would start with early Arizona Department of Corrections’ releases…wrong. ADOC has put up for sale every complex except for Florence and Buckeye. Privatization. So if you’re in the market you can buy your own prison complex. They say the sale will bring the immediate cash they need. So Arizona will continue to become even more of a police state than it already is.
Well, my friend, I’m happy to be able to finally share some good news with you.
Take care,
Long Island
Click here for Long Island’s previous blog.
Our friends inside appreciate your comments.
Email comments for Long Island to writeinside@hotmail.com or post them below. To post a comment if you do not have a Google/Blogger account, just select anonymous for your identity.
Shaun P. Attwood
Thursday, June 25, 2009
Hypotype of the 68th Medical Regiment
My grandpa died a while ago and going through some of his stuff I came across a newspaper/letter while he was in the Marines in WWII. Of the many places he was stationed, most notable was his participation in the Battle of Iwo Jima. He was on the second wave of Marines to hit the beach and being a medic certainly saw his fair share of bloodshed.
In any case, I don't know how many people are alive from the 68th Medical Regiment, but thought I might throw this up there in case some of the original authors or perhaps people mentioned in the publication might still be around and like to see a piece of yesteryear.
Here are the names listed in the publication so it is searchable;
Francis Kintz
Albert Schuster
William Hoffman
Richard Weinert
Lloyd Reid
Sigmund Nastale
Ike Woolf
Chaplain McBarron
Bill Hiehle
Elmer Vana
Hy Kaplan
Forg Giannaki
Stretch Putnam
Koewler Brafford
Winterbothom
Joe Perlman
Dave Pollack
Jesse Hutson
Rudy Goddard
Chester Walls
Joe Sulk
In any case, I don't know how many people are alive from the 68th Medical Regiment, but thought I might throw this up there in case some of the original authors or perhaps people mentioned in the publication might still be around and like to see a piece of yesteryear.
Here are the names listed in the publication so it is searchable;
Francis Kintz
Albert Schuster
William Hoffman
Richard Weinert
Lloyd Reid
Sigmund Nastale
Ike Woolf
Chaplain McBarron
Bill Hiehle
Elmer Vana
Hy Kaplan
Forg Giannaki
Stretch Putnam
Koewler Brafford
Winterbothom
Joe Perlman
Dave Pollack
Jesse Hutson
Rudy Goddard
Chester Walls
Joe Sulk
Washington Avenue Bridge
I have received several requests regarding the Washington Avenue Bridge which I have referenced frequently both here and in my book.
Basically it is a bridge spanning the Mississippi that connects the East and West banks of the U of Minnesota campus. It is just 3/4 miles downstream from the famous 35W bridge that collapsed about 2 years ago.
During my tenure there it was an ugly, minimalist, 1960's architectural piece of crap that only stoned or drunk baby boomers would have found visually pleasing (kind of like listening to The Doors). Since then they painted it and made it look less disgusting.
Originally the interior corridor was supposed to be heated so students could walk to each bank in comfort during the harsh winters. But that would have cost too much and communications professors would have to earn a paltry $65,000 per year instead of the $70,000 they earn now, plus we wouldn't have a new stadium every year for teams that never win championships, so you can see why it was important never to heat the damn thing no matter how much it would have benefited the masses.
The above picture was a picture I took during the summer of 1994. You can see just what a dreary bridge it was.
Basically it is a bridge spanning the Mississippi that connects the East and West banks of the U of Minnesota campus. It is just 3/4 miles downstream from the famous 35W bridge that collapsed about 2 years ago.
During my tenure there it was an ugly, minimalist, 1960's architectural piece of crap that only stoned or drunk baby boomers would have found visually pleasing (kind of like listening to The Doors). Since then they painted it and made it look less disgusting.
Originally the interior corridor was supposed to be heated so students could walk to each bank in comfort during the harsh winters. But that would have cost too much and communications professors would have to earn a paltry $65,000 per year instead of the $70,000 they earn now, plus we wouldn't have a new stadium every year for teams that never win championships, so you can see why it was important never to heat the damn thing no matter how much it would have benefited the masses.
The above picture was a picture I took during the summer of 1994. You can see just what a dreary bridge it was.
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
The Captain's Casting Call
As you may have noticed I have enlisted the help of some beautiful femme fatales to advertise and promote various aspects of Cappy Cap on the side bar.
However, while currently I only have 2 models, I need 5.
And despite a casting call going out to my female friends, only two have responded while the rest have said, "Yes, sure, that would be great" but have since only managed to procrastinate.
Ergo!:
I am putting forth a casting call for any Cappy Cap readers of the female persuasion who would be interested in becoming one of the Captain's models. You can see by the current models (Natasha and Sindi) that the pictures are appropriate and cute, nothing sexual or lewd. More or less just looking for a woo-ing or sighing type face and then I'll put some schmaltzy line in with the picture.
In any case, if you or somebody you know that loves capitalism and is interested, shoot me an e-mail at;
CAPTcapitalism@yahoo.com
Mucho thanks!
However, while currently I only have 2 models, I need 5.
And despite a casting call going out to my female friends, only two have responded while the rest have said, "Yes, sure, that would be great" but have since only managed to procrastinate.
Ergo!:
I am putting forth a casting call for any Cappy Cap readers of the female persuasion who would be interested in becoming one of the Captain's models. You can see by the current models (Natasha and Sindi) that the pictures are appropriate and cute, nothing sexual or lewd. More or less just looking for a woo-ing or sighing type face and then I'll put some schmaltzy line in with the picture.
In any case, if you or somebody you know that loves capitalism and is interested, shoot me an e-mail at;
CAPTcapitalism@yahoo.com
Mucho thanks!
Masters Degree in READING
Oh wow.
I get job updates from a website called Indeed.com. And this one came in the mail.
There are two things horribly appalling about this.
One, the fact there is a FREAKING COLLEGE CLASS ON HOW TO READ
Two, even MORE APPALLING IS YOU NEED YOUR EFFING MASTERS DEGREE TO TEACH THE DAMN CLASS!
Wow, just all I can say is effing wow.
I get job updates from a website called Indeed.com. And this one came in the mail.
There are two things horribly appalling about this.
One, the fact there is a FREAKING COLLEGE CLASS ON HOW TO READ
Two, even MORE APPALLING IS YOU NEED YOUR EFFING MASTERS DEGREE TO TEACH THE DAMN CLASS!
Wow, just all I can say is effing wow.
Polish Avenger
For those of you who asked for background info on Polish Avenger, here’s his response:
For those who requested. Thanks for asking!
Back in the year 1993, I was a fairly normal computer geek wrapping up a Bachelor’s in Software Engineering. To fuel long nights of study, I began dosing small amounts of methamphetamine. That actually worked well – the drug itself wasn’t the cause of my downfall, but rather my choice to associate with the underworld characters I bought it from. They saw my potential as a digital counterfeiter. Me being young and naïve, thought we could get away with it. Obviously, this was a mistake.
On our way to steal the required equipment, one of our crew was shot and killed by the owner. Unbeknownst to us, in Arizona, when one felon dies in the commission of a crime, all of the other felons get blamed, Thus the remainder of us were charged with murder. The fact that he was our friend and we didn’t actually kill him didn’t matter. Thus, I picked up 25 years for my first offence. However, I was guilty of lesser crimes, so it’s not like I was completely blameless.
In my travels here, I’ve learned how to live as free within myself as a person can – paradoxically more so than I did when I was out!
The handle of Polish Avenger reflects both my ancestry and daily quest to avenge the harm I caused and the path not taken. And I like the way it sounds!
Stay tuned for further instalments of Polish adventure.
Do you think Polish Avenger should be doing 25 years for murder or a short sentence for burglary?
Click here for Polisher Avenger’s first blog.
Our friends inside appreciate your comments.
Email comments and questions for Polish Avenger to writeinside@hotmail.com or post them below. To post a comment if you do not have a Google/Blogger account, just select anonymous for your identity.
Shaun P. Attwood
For those of you who asked for background info on Polish Avenger, here’s his response:
For those who requested. Thanks for asking!
Back in the year 1993, I was a fairly normal computer geek wrapping up a Bachelor’s in Software Engineering. To fuel long nights of study, I began dosing small amounts of methamphetamine. That actually worked well – the drug itself wasn’t the cause of my downfall, but rather my choice to associate with the underworld characters I bought it from. They saw my potential as a digital counterfeiter. Me being young and naïve, thought we could get away with it. Obviously, this was a mistake.
On our way to steal the required equipment, one of our crew was shot and killed by the owner. Unbeknownst to us, in Arizona, when one felon dies in the commission of a crime, all of the other felons get blamed, Thus the remainder of us were charged with murder. The fact that he was our friend and we didn’t actually kill him didn’t matter. Thus, I picked up 25 years for my first offence. However, I was guilty of lesser crimes, so it’s not like I was completely blameless.
In my travels here, I’ve learned how to live as free within myself as a person can – paradoxically more so than I did when I was out!
The handle of Polish Avenger reflects both my ancestry and daily quest to avenge the harm I caused and the path not taken. And I like the way it sounds!
Stay tuned for further instalments of Polish adventure.
Do you think Polish Avenger should be doing 25 years for murder or a short sentence for burglary?
Click here for Polisher Avenger’s first blog.
Our friends inside appreciate your comments.
Email comments and questions for Polish Avenger to writeinside@hotmail.com or post them below. To post a comment if you do not have a Google/Blogger account, just select anonymous for your identity.
Shaun P. Attwood
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
Deondra
This one is for a poor kid I just met, Ferdinand.
I entered college at the age of 18 weighing 147 pounds.
By the time I was 19 years of age I had dropped down to 118.
And the reason for this precipitous loss in weight was two-fold.
One, I was dirt poor with no financial support from my parents, nor the government, and thusly could not afford any kind of fast food, let alone groceries, and therefore LOST the freshman 15 instead of gained it.
Two, I worked as campus security where, among other things, our job was to patrol the campus on foot or on bike where the AVERAGE night you would put 50 miles on your bike or 10 miles on foot.
Now I’m leaving A LOT of stuff out, but in short this period of time was hands down, without compare, the worst days in my life. I worked full time, went to school full time and frankly barely attended any parties, let alone had much of a social life outside of work, because the financial and academic rigors of college demanded it. Ergo, why I have no pity whatsoever when I hear spoiled brats complain about the costs of college while daddy financed them a brand new car or takes care of their credit card bills and practically all other living expenses, EXCEPT tuition.
Regardless, though all of college could generally be described as a 3.5 year abyss, the pits of the pits, the darkest depths of the abyss was my first Christmas break.
I didn’t know if I was going to make it or not. I was just one trimester (the U had “trimesters” back then) into college then and all I had known was sleep depravation and poverty. But add to this hellish existence two more complications and it became unbearable;
1. Loneliness. I couldn’t afford to go back home for Christmas break, and home was only 1.5 hours away. I had to sign up for as many shifts and OT as I could, or I otherwise would not have been able to afford the next trimester of tuition. And while I was happy to have the work, instead of a full force of security, they scaled back operations to “the Dirty Dozen” the 12 or 13 or so security guards that would pick up the rest of the shifts while the rest of the guards went home for Christmas break. And sure you’d see each other occasionally checking in or out of HQ, but you’d patrol by yourself for 12 hours, over a veritable lifeless arctic tundra, go to a deserted dorm, and do it all over again, day in, day out for the next month.
2. Cold. Minnesota is cold. And though nothing personal or emotional, it wears on you psychologically, especially if you’re patrolling out in subzero temperatures on hour 22 of a 32 hour shift over the Washington Avenue bridge on Christmas eve (and no, I am not making this up). It doesn’t get warm. It’s always cold. But the campus needed parking lot and bridge patrols and so you would do push ups to stay warm, pad your boots with paper towels from the bathrooms to stave off the frost bite and come up with stupid poems to stave off the insanity.
However, there was one bit of hope. There was one shimmer of light I had in this otherwise dreary, bitterly cold nightmarish existence;
Deondra.
Deondra was a freshman just like me. And though I had no time for social activities or the pursuit of cute girls, Deondra was that one weird girl that pursued me. Not aggressively, but as I was just sitting there in the cafeteria she just came up and asked if she could sit there. Kind of shocked I said “sure” and thus begat a friendly conversation which led to a couple dates.
It was already late into fall and my work schedule was such that not much of a heated romance could form, but by the time winter break rolled around and the campus emptied itself, there was really nothing or nobody else for socializing. Sure I had friends at work, but we were nothing but sleep-deprived, hypothermic zombies that would greet each other in between work and sleep shifts. But there was that one nice, kind girl. The one who was kind enough to go out on a couple dates and even drive me to the grocery store so I could get groceries.
Well it was the middle of December, the campus was deserted, and I received a call from Deondra. She was wondering how I was doing and what I had going on for Christmas. I said,
“Well I have to work Christmas Eve into Christmas Day, then wake up again around 8PM so I can start my shift at 9PM.”
She said, “Aren’t you going home?”
I said, “No, I can’t, I have to work. Besides, I don’t have a car, so I couldn’t go even if I wanted to.”
Feeling pity for me she said, “Well, why don’t you come over to my folks house for Christmas dinner in Apple Valley?”
The smile on my face was like seeing a beautiful nurse in a WWII battlefield hospital. I was already physically and psychologically depleted and the company on Christmas day, not to mention a home made, warm meal was the best Christmas gift one could ask for.
I said “Sure, that would be great.”
And she said, “Well I’ll pick you up at 5PM and then drop you back off at the police department at 9PM just in time for work.”
I said, “Thanks, I really appreciate it.”
My Christmas Eve shift was somehow not as cold as the previous ones (even though if I recall correctly that night it had dropped to -10 degrees). The patrols were not as dreary and the entire night I got to look forward to and dream about the food and this really sweet nice girl that was going to have me over for dinner. Matter of fact, this is the type of girl you would probably want to hold onto and get serious with. Beautiful, educated, and kind. I let those thoughts carry me through until you could see the sun start to lighten up the eastern sky as 7AM approached and most families in the nation started opening their Christmas gifts (unless of course you’re one of those cheating Catholics that can’t wait until the 25th and open theirs on the 24th!)
I trudged back to my deserted dorm, too tired to take a shower, crawled into my bed in full uniform, set the alarm for 430PM and fell asleep immediately, though no doubt with a smile on my face.
The alarm on my Ironman digital watch woke me up. I got up like most kids did 10 hours previously, giddy and excited. Hopped in the shower, put on a nice shirt and some slacks, packed my uniform and my winter gear, until I realized I hadn’t gotten Deondra any kind of gift. I looked around frantically as well as equally hopelessly because what possible gift would an impoverished college freshman have in his dorm that would make for any kind of Christmas gift? I figured the best I could do was write a funny, light hearted poem thanking her for her kindness, but with the 10 minutes I had to go before she picked me up, the poem was nothing to be proud off. Regardless, I took it, still debating whether I would even give it to her or not and rushed downstairs.
There I sat in the lobby, nobody there except the desk clerk working on some papers. Deadly silent as the snow was falling as I looked out the window, sitting there with my backpack and a folded up piece of paper with the poem on it. It was getting dark, still a little bit of light left, I looked at my watch and it was 5PM.
I set my watch fast just for instances like these to make sure I was on time. Still had a couple minutes to go, so I figured she would pull up momentarily and let my thoughts drift about what kind of food would be at her house.
Turkey? Chicken? Steak? Some potatoes. Ooo! I could get a doggy bag and be able to eat a good meal on my overnight shift. I could totally gorge myself and get that first home made meal in 3 months.
I looked at my watch. 5:03.
Hmmm… Must have run into traffic. Snow probably slowing down traffic.
5:10.
Wow, traffic must really be bad…even for Christmas day…I hope she’s alright.
5:15
I decided to go call her house (because we didn’t have cell phones back then) to see if she was on her way. Went to the desk to use their phone. It rang and rang and rang and I got her voicemail.
“Hey Deondra, it’s me, just wondering if you’re on your way or not.”
5:25
Decided to try calling again. Still no answer, just her voicemail.
And at 1730 hours on December 25th, 1993 your rookie, idealistic, naïve Captain had a pivotal epiphany that would set him down the path that in part made him he is the man he is today.
“I don’t think she’s coming.”
It’s kind of like Afro Samurai, if you’ve ever seen it. Samuel Jackson does the voice for an imaginary sidekick Afro Samurai has and more or less acts as his id-subconscious. And the entire movie this hallucination talks to Afro, giving him advice, if not, more so picking on him.
It was the same thing. Not that I was hallucinating and there was some alterego version of me, but in my head I started having a conversation with myself.
“Why wouldn’t she show up?
What did I do wrong?
How could somebody do something like this?”
And other stupid questions naïve, 18 year old American boys will ask themselves on the precipice of the hell they have no idea that they’re about to enter called “conventional American dating.”
Now needless to say that Christmas night was certainly one of the darkest, badest ones in my life (and I’ve had plenty). I have rarely had such anger and hatred. I don’t even remember the night being cold or dreary or painful. I don’t even remember getting tired. But I do remember coming to a very important conclusion that most men do not have the benefit of realizing until they’re much older.
“I don’t have time for this shit.”
Now, this is long ago in the past, but that does not mean the lesson should not be passed on or that we should not learn something from it. And as I see men younger than me, confused and dazed as to what they did wrong, and girls wondering why men seem to become aloof and indifferent to marriage or engaging in things such as a “marriage strike” allow me to help those of you younger aspiring, junior, deputy and otherwise economists out there by making some lessons crystal clear;
Boys/Men – When you are younger, say 14 to 25 or so, you have to realize you are not dating adults. You are dating children. I don’t know why, but my experience has told me sometimes girls at this age prefer to play games more than do anything approaching engaging in a real dating or courting relationship. In a sick and twisted way, they prefer to string you along and play games and find it fun. I don’t even think they realize that you are a human being too, and it takes on more of a roll where it’s like a cat toying with a wounded mouse. I don’t know why. I don’t have empirical proof of it. It’s only been my anecdotal experiences that have led me to this conclusion.
Regardless, the whole point is that IT IS UNACCEPTABLE TO BE STOOD UP FOR A DATE PERIOD. There is nothing wrong with you if you get stood up, but rather there is something wrong with them. And if there’s one thing I wish I could convey to the younger men out there it’s that it’s NOT YOUR FAULT. You cannot take it out on you as did I and millions of other men have. And while it is hard to be indifferent or aloof to a girl standing you up, you must view it in terms of “Is a girl who stands men up for s’s and g’s the type of girl I want to date?” You will come to the same conclusion I did;
“I don’t have time for this shit.”
Conversely, it is just as evil and bad to stand girls up. Don’t do it. Think about what you’ve been put through and then think about how you felt and know you’ve caused the same pain in a girl, who is probably equally innocent.
Girls/Women – DO NOT STAND UP A GUY EVER. You want to be the 40 year old with no husband, but a nice collection of cats and a lonely hate-filled life? Well sweetheart, you’re well on your way. Men are not bobbles to toy around with and re-enact your favorite episodes of Dawson’s Creek or 90210 on. Many women ask “where are all the good guys?” Well, ask yourself the question how many you stood up, how many you played games with, or how many you just didn’t treat respectfully and there’s your answer.
Not that it will make you feel any better Ferdinand, but all the veterans have been there before.
I entered college at the age of 18 weighing 147 pounds.
By the time I was 19 years of age I had dropped down to 118.
And the reason for this precipitous loss in weight was two-fold.
One, I was dirt poor with no financial support from my parents, nor the government, and thusly could not afford any kind of fast food, let alone groceries, and therefore LOST the freshman 15 instead of gained it.
Two, I worked as campus security where, among other things, our job was to patrol the campus on foot or on bike where the AVERAGE night you would put 50 miles on your bike or 10 miles on foot.
Now I’m leaving A LOT of stuff out, but in short this period of time was hands down, without compare, the worst days in my life. I worked full time, went to school full time and frankly barely attended any parties, let alone had much of a social life outside of work, because the financial and academic rigors of college demanded it. Ergo, why I have no pity whatsoever when I hear spoiled brats complain about the costs of college while daddy financed them a brand new car or takes care of their credit card bills and practically all other living expenses, EXCEPT tuition.
Regardless, though all of college could generally be described as a 3.5 year abyss, the pits of the pits, the darkest depths of the abyss was my first Christmas break.
I didn’t know if I was going to make it or not. I was just one trimester (the U had “trimesters” back then) into college then and all I had known was sleep depravation and poverty. But add to this hellish existence two more complications and it became unbearable;
1. Loneliness. I couldn’t afford to go back home for Christmas break, and home was only 1.5 hours away. I had to sign up for as many shifts and OT as I could, or I otherwise would not have been able to afford the next trimester of tuition. And while I was happy to have the work, instead of a full force of security, they scaled back operations to “the Dirty Dozen” the 12 or 13 or so security guards that would pick up the rest of the shifts while the rest of the guards went home for Christmas break. And sure you’d see each other occasionally checking in or out of HQ, but you’d patrol by yourself for 12 hours, over a veritable lifeless arctic tundra, go to a deserted dorm, and do it all over again, day in, day out for the next month.
2. Cold. Minnesota is cold. And though nothing personal or emotional, it wears on you psychologically, especially if you’re patrolling out in subzero temperatures on hour 22 of a 32 hour shift over the Washington Avenue bridge on Christmas eve (and no, I am not making this up). It doesn’t get warm. It’s always cold. But the campus needed parking lot and bridge patrols and so you would do push ups to stay warm, pad your boots with paper towels from the bathrooms to stave off the frost bite and come up with stupid poems to stave off the insanity.
However, there was one bit of hope. There was one shimmer of light I had in this otherwise dreary, bitterly cold nightmarish existence;
Deondra.
Deondra was a freshman just like me. And though I had no time for social activities or the pursuit of cute girls, Deondra was that one weird girl that pursued me. Not aggressively, but as I was just sitting there in the cafeteria she just came up and asked if she could sit there. Kind of shocked I said “sure” and thus begat a friendly conversation which led to a couple dates.
It was already late into fall and my work schedule was such that not much of a heated romance could form, but by the time winter break rolled around and the campus emptied itself, there was really nothing or nobody else for socializing. Sure I had friends at work, but we were nothing but sleep-deprived, hypothermic zombies that would greet each other in between work and sleep shifts. But there was that one nice, kind girl. The one who was kind enough to go out on a couple dates and even drive me to the grocery store so I could get groceries.
Well it was the middle of December, the campus was deserted, and I received a call from Deondra. She was wondering how I was doing and what I had going on for Christmas. I said,
“Well I have to work Christmas Eve into Christmas Day, then wake up again around 8PM so I can start my shift at 9PM.”
She said, “Aren’t you going home?”
I said, “No, I can’t, I have to work. Besides, I don’t have a car, so I couldn’t go even if I wanted to.”
Feeling pity for me she said, “Well, why don’t you come over to my folks house for Christmas dinner in Apple Valley?”
The smile on my face was like seeing a beautiful nurse in a WWII battlefield hospital. I was already physically and psychologically depleted and the company on Christmas day, not to mention a home made, warm meal was the best Christmas gift one could ask for.
I said “Sure, that would be great.”
And she said, “Well I’ll pick you up at 5PM and then drop you back off at the police department at 9PM just in time for work.”
I said, “Thanks, I really appreciate it.”
My Christmas Eve shift was somehow not as cold as the previous ones (even though if I recall correctly that night it had dropped to -10 degrees). The patrols were not as dreary and the entire night I got to look forward to and dream about the food and this really sweet nice girl that was going to have me over for dinner. Matter of fact, this is the type of girl you would probably want to hold onto and get serious with. Beautiful, educated, and kind. I let those thoughts carry me through until you could see the sun start to lighten up the eastern sky as 7AM approached and most families in the nation started opening their Christmas gifts (unless of course you’re one of those cheating Catholics that can’t wait until the 25th and open theirs on the 24th!)
I trudged back to my deserted dorm, too tired to take a shower, crawled into my bed in full uniform, set the alarm for 430PM and fell asleep immediately, though no doubt with a smile on my face.
The alarm on my Ironman digital watch woke me up. I got up like most kids did 10 hours previously, giddy and excited. Hopped in the shower, put on a nice shirt and some slacks, packed my uniform and my winter gear, until I realized I hadn’t gotten Deondra any kind of gift. I looked around frantically as well as equally hopelessly because what possible gift would an impoverished college freshman have in his dorm that would make for any kind of Christmas gift? I figured the best I could do was write a funny, light hearted poem thanking her for her kindness, but with the 10 minutes I had to go before she picked me up, the poem was nothing to be proud off. Regardless, I took it, still debating whether I would even give it to her or not and rushed downstairs.
There I sat in the lobby, nobody there except the desk clerk working on some papers. Deadly silent as the snow was falling as I looked out the window, sitting there with my backpack and a folded up piece of paper with the poem on it. It was getting dark, still a little bit of light left, I looked at my watch and it was 5PM.
I set my watch fast just for instances like these to make sure I was on time. Still had a couple minutes to go, so I figured she would pull up momentarily and let my thoughts drift about what kind of food would be at her house.
Turkey? Chicken? Steak? Some potatoes. Ooo! I could get a doggy bag and be able to eat a good meal on my overnight shift. I could totally gorge myself and get that first home made meal in 3 months.
I looked at my watch. 5:03.
Hmmm… Must have run into traffic. Snow probably slowing down traffic.
5:10.
Wow, traffic must really be bad…even for Christmas day…I hope she’s alright.
5:15
I decided to go call her house (because we didn’t have cell phones back then) to see if she was on her way. Went to the desk to use their phone. It rang and rang and rang and I got her voicemail.
“Hey Deondra, it’s me, just wondering if you’re on your way or not.”
5:25
Decided to try calling again. Still no answer, just her voicemail.
And at 1730 hours on December 25th, 1993 your rookie, idealistic, naïve Captain had a pivotal epiphany that would set him down the path that in part made him he is the man he is today.
“I don’t think she’s coming.”
It’s kind of like Afro Samurai, if you’ve ever seen it. Samuel Jackson does the voice for an imaginary sidekick Afro Samurai has and more or less acts as his id-subconscious. And the entire movie this hallucination talks to Afro, giving him advice, if not, more so picking on him.
It was the same thing. Not that I was hallucinating and there was some alterego version of me, but in my head I started having a conversation with myself.
“Why wouldn’t she show up?
What did I do wrong?
How could somebody do something like this?”
And other stupid questions naïve, 18 year old American boys will ask themselves on the precipice of the hell they have no idea that they’re about to enter called “conventional American dating.”
Now needless to say that Christmas night was certainly one of the darkest, badest ones in my life (and I’ve had plenty). I have rarely had such anger and hatred. I don’t even remember the night being cold or dreary or painful. I don’t even remember getting tired. But I do remember coming to a very important conclusion that most men do not have the benefit of realizing until they’re much older.
“I don’t have time for this shit.”
Now, this is long ago in the past, but that does not mean the lesson should not be passed on or that we should not learn something from it. And as I see men younger than me, confused and dazed as to what they did wrong, and girls wondering why men seem to become aloof and indifferent to marriage or engaging in things such as a “marriage strike” allow me to help those of you younger aspiring, junior, deputy and otherwise economists out there by making some lessons crystal clear;
Boys/Men – When you are younger, say 14 to 25 or so, you have to realize you are not dating adults. You are dating children. I don’t know why, but my experience has told me sometimes girls at this age prefer to play games more than do anything approaching engaging in a real dating or courting relationship. In a sick and twisted way, they prefer to string you along and play games and find it fun. I don’t even think they realize that you are a human being too, and it takes on more of a roll where it’s like a cat toying with a wounded mouse. I don’t know why. I don’t have empirical proof of it. It’s only been my anecdotal experiences that have led me to this conclusion.
Regardless, the whole point is that IT IS UNACCEPTABLE TO BE STOOD UP FOR A DATE PERIOD. There is nothing wrong with you if you get stood up, but rather there is something wrong with them. And if there’s one thing I wish I could convey to the younger men out there it’s that it’s NOT YOUR FAULT. You cannot take it out on you as did I and millions of other men have. And while it is hard to be indifferent or aloof to a girl standing you up, you must view it in terms of “Is a girl who stands men up for s’s and g’s the type of girl I want to date?” You will come to the same conclusion I did;
“I don’t have time for this shit.”
Conversely, it is just as evil and bad to stand girls up. Don’t do it. Think about what you’ve been put through and then think about how you felt and know you’ve caused the same pain in a girl, who is probably equally innocent.
Girls/Women – DO NOT STAND UP A GUY EVER. You want to be the 40 year old with no husband, but a nice collection of cats and a lonely hate-filled life? Well sweetheart, you’re well on your way. Men are not bobbles to toy around with and re-enact your favorite episodes of Dawson’s Creek or 90210 on. Many women ask “where are all the good guys?” Well, ask yourself the question how many you stood up, how many you played games with, or how many you just didn’t treat respectfully and there’s your answer.
Not that it will make you feel any better Ferdinand, but all the veterans have been there before.
Monday, June 22, 2009
The Captain's "Obscene Profit Break"
Tis that time again! Time to plug the Captain's wares and services so that he may continue to put food on the table, pay the mortgage and mayhaps save a little extra for his fossil hunting expeditions and Rumpleminze.
In any case, you can help the Captain by;
1. Donating to the "cause." That "cause" being raising enough money to pay off his mortgage early. Wouldn't it give you warm fuzzies to know you helped the Captain pay off his mortgage early?
2. Buy the Captain's Book (which I think most of you already have, but in case there's a couple stragglers out there).
3. Buy some stuff. Stuff, meaning primarily shirts and coffee mugs. Still working on this one to offer a larger selection.
4. Take a class with the Captain! Be it a basic personal financial class WHICH IS AN OUTSTANDING CLASS FOR YOUNGER FOLK or just a damn fine class on stock analysis and valuation, you will not be let down and it is definitely worth the money.
5. What economist is complete without his ability to offer dancing instruction!? Buy a DVD and see what the Captain looked like when he had long hair and still dated girls in their 20's. (makes a great gift for the capitalist femme fatale in your life!)
6. Arguably the best thing you can do is tell a friend about the Captain!
But no, seriously, the Captain likes money. Buy some stuff.
In any case, you can help the Captain by;
1. Donating to the "cause." That "cause" being raising enough money to pay off his mortgage early. Wouldn't it give you warm fuzzies to know you helped the Captain pay off his mortgage early?
2. Buy the Captain's Book (which I think most of you already have, but in case there's a couple stragglers out there).
3. Buy some stuff. Stuff, meaning primarily shirts and coffee mugs. Still working on this one to offer a larger selection.
4. Take a class with the Captain! Be it a basic personal financial class WHICH IS AN OUTSTANDING CLASS FOR YOUNGER FOLK or just a damn fine class on stock analysis and valuation, you will not be let down and it is definitely worth the money.
5. What economist is complete without his ability to offer dancing instruction!? Buy a DVD and see what the Captain looked like when he had long hair and still dated girls in their 20's. (makes a great gift for the capitalist femme fatale in your life!)
6. Arguably the best thing you can do is tell a friend about the Captain!
But no, seriously, the Captain likes money. Buy some stuff.
Sunday, June 21, 2009
Wind Power
Because people demand power all the time and frankly, the wind doesn't blow...or maybe the wind just "blows."
Please Explain to Me Why We Hate the Jews
There are many questions I wish I had the answers to, but before I die, I just want the answer to one thing;
WHAT THE HELL IS IT WITH THE JEWS?
Egypt enslaves them.
Hitler kills them.
Neo-nazi idiots despise them.
Leftists blame them for everything today.
And precisely WHAT HAVE THEY DONE TO DESERVE THIS IRE????
And I'm serious about this.
As far as I'm concerned the Jews have done nothing. I've never ran into a Jew that was even anything as impolite. They don't throw it in my face that they're a Jew. They've never betrayed me or done anything at all but be civil and kind people. But hooooy boy, does the world like them to be their whipping boys.
Now maybe I've missed something (though I doubt it), but it behooves the question why is there such disdain and hatred for the Jews over such a long record of history?
I will ONLY ENTERTAIN SERIOUS THEORIES, so any anti-Semitic Aryian nation nutjobs or crazy whacked out Islamic terrorists, just shut the hell up. It is a question that though not at the fore front of my mind, has been gnawing at me for a while.
WHAT THE HELL IS IT WITH THE JEWS?
Egypt enslaves them.
Hitler kills them.
Neo-nazi idiots despise them.
Leftists blame them for everything today.
And precisely WHAT HAVE THEY DONE TO DESERVE THIS IRE????
And I'm serious about this.
As far as I'm concerned the Jews have done nothing. I've never ran into a Jew that was even anything as impolite. They don't throw it in my face that they're a Jew. They've never betrayed me or done anything at all but be civil and kind people. But hooooy boy, does the world like them to be their whipping boys.
Now maybe I've missed something (though I doubt it), but it behooves the question why is there such disdain and hatred for the Jews over such a long record of history?
I will ONLY ENTERTAIN SERIOUS THEORIES, so any anti-Semitic Aryian nation nutjobs or crazy whacked out Islamic terrorists, just shut the hell up. It is a question that though not at the fore front of my mind, has been gnawing at me for a while.
Central Unit (Part 4 by Warrior)
Warrior - Serving fourteen years for kidnapping and aggravated assault. Half Hispanic and Scottish-Irish with family still in Mexico. Brought up by a family steeped in drug commerce. He writes some of the best prison-fight stories on the Internet.
In Part 3, Warrior learned the guards are staging cockfights in lockdown among the inmates, and there is race war going on between the whites and Chicanos versus the Mexicans.
Still in shock over the fight that had just occurred, I was unable to move. Having to swallow the lump in my throat brought me back to reality. I couldn’t believe what Cowboy had just said. Are these guards that sadistic here? I asked myself.
My mind raced with numerous thoughts. Who will I be set up to fight? I need to pick it up on my workouts. Should I make a piece of steel? What if I get caught slipping? No sleeping in the day for starters. Must get an idea of who’s who.
“How long’s it been like this here?” I asked Cowboy.
“For a minute now. Before I got here.”
“So basically we’re always on our toes?”
“Yup. You gotta be.”
“So who do I got to watch out for around here?”
“Check it out. Right now, runnin’ your people is Tiger. He’ll get atcha, and run everything down, and pick ya up to speed. In the meantime, just sit tight. I’m sure he knows you’re here.”
“Alright then,” I said.
“Well, since the action is over with, I’m gonna make a swig of coffee. I need to write a coupla kites [messages] to the boys ’bout the latest. I’ll get witcha later.”
We shook hands and parted ways for the moment.
I headed over towards my bunk, and turned on the TV. I couldn’t focus on what was on because my mind kept replaying the recent bout. My thoughts were on what preparations I needed to make in case I needed to battle. I didn’t want to make a piece [shank] and take the chance of getting caught with it. I was already locked down for 23 ½ hours a day. I had 30 minutes to shower. I didn’t want to be locked down in the hole for 24 hours. Besides if I couldn’t get the piece quick enough, what was the point? That’s the risk you take with a shank. If you hide it half-ass, you’ll get to it quick when you need it, but so will the cops if they’re searching your cell. If you hide it good, no cop will find it, but unfortunately, you probably won’t be able to get it fast enough when you need it. I’ve never liked shanks much for this reason. My confidence and comfort came from being good with my fists.
As my thoughts rolled on, I was distracted from them by a voice shouting, “Ese, Warrior!”
I motioned over towards my cell bars. My cell was the lower corner cell. Three other tiers were above me. I looked around trying to locate the direction from where the voice came. I then noticed an arm sleeved with prison ink waving at me from two tiers up on the opposite side of my cell.
“I’m coming down!” said the owner of the arms. “Do you know how to fish?”
“Yeah,” I hollered back.
Fishing in prison is where one twists up some line made from the thread of boxers, T-shirts, sheets, even a towel. The line thickness and length varies depending on what you’re pulling towards you and how far you have to go. What you’re doing though, is sending or retrieving something from another’s line. It’s called fishing because you have to cast your line out several times in order to catch the other person’s. Weights like combs, batteries, bars of soap, are tied to the ends of the lines for greater manoeuvrability and retrieval.
Just then I heard Cowboy at the bars. “Hey, there’s a fishing line underneath yer bunk. The dude there before left it for the next guy.”
I went and looked below my bunk. Wrapped up in a hiding spot only those doing time are usually aware of was a white nylon line made from the polyester band that makes the elastic in boxers. Those lines are usually strong. I retrieved and began to unravel the line. It had the crimped half end of a toothpaste tube stuffed with cardboard for a weight. Perfect, I thought. It’s exactly how I would have made a line.
I then heard a soft thud hit the concrete just outside my bars. An orange line was stretching from the tattooed arms two tiers up to the floor just in front of me. At the end of the line was a sock stuffed with what looked to be a milk carton for a weight. The ingenuity of a prisoner’s weight says a lot about him when it comes to fishing. The more creative, the more disciplined he is. The more half ass, the more lazy.
I shot my toothpaste-tube weight out over the orange line. “OK! Pull your slack!” I yelled.
The tattooed arms pulled the slack, lifting my line high enough to yank the toothpaste weight underneath his, so I could pull his line and weight in. I had his line in my house. “OK! I got it!” I yelled.
“Pull!” he yelled.
I pulled in his orange line until I was met with a little plastic bag containing a kite for me.
“Orale, I got it!” I shouted.
“Orale, read the wila [letter] and get back at us!”
“Alright then!”
“Have a buen dia [good day], Warrior!”
“Tu tambien [you also].”
I detached the letter, threw out the orange line and began to read the message.
Click here to read:
Central Unit Part 1
Central Unit Part 2
Central Unit Part 3
More About Fishing In Prison
Our friends inside appreciate your comments.
Email comments and questions for Warrior to writeinside@hotmail.com or post them below. To post a comment if you do not have a Google/Blogger account, just select anonymous for your identity.
Shaun P. Attwood
Warrior - Serving fourteen years for kidnapping and aggravated assault. Half Hispanic and Scottish-Irish with family still in Mexico. Brought up by a family steeped in drug commerce. He writes some of the best prison-fight stories on the Internet.
In Part 3, Warrior learned the guards are staging cockfights in lockdown among the inmates, and there is race war going on between the whites and Chicanos versus the Mexicans.
Still in shock over the fight that had just occurred, I was unable to move. Having to swallow the lump in my throat brought me back to reality. I couldn’t believe what Cowboy had just said. Are these guards that sadistic here? I asked myself.
My mind raced with numerous thoughts. Who will I be set up to fight? I need to pick it up on my workouts. Should I make a piece of steel? What if I get caught slipping? No sleeping in the day for starters. Must get an idea of who’s who.
“How long’s it been like this here?” I asked Cowboy.
“For a minute now. Before I got here.”
“So basically we’re always on our toes?”
“Yup. You gotta be.”
“So who do I got to watch out for around here?”
“Check it out. Right now, runnin’ your people is Tiger. He’ll get atcha, and run everything down, and pick ya up to speed. In the meantime, just sit tight. I’m sure he knows you’re here.”
“Alright then,” I said.
“Well, since the action is over with, I’m gonna make a swig of coffee. I need to write a coupla kites [messages] to the boys ’bout the latest. I’ll get witcha later.”
We shook hands and parted ways for the moment.
I headed over towards my bunk, and turned on the TV. I couldn’t focus on what was on because my mind kept replaying the recent bout. My thoughts were on what preparations I needed to make in case I needed to battle. I didn’t want to make a piece [shank] and take the chance of getting caught with it. I was already locked down for 23 ½ hours a day. I had 30 minutes to shower. I didn’t want to be locked down in the hole for 24 hours. Besides if I couldn’t get the piece quick enough, what was the point? That’s the risk you take with a shank. If you hide it half-ass, you’ll get to it quick when you need it, but so will the cops if they’re searching your cell. If you hide it good, no cop will find it, but unfortunately, you probably won’t be able to get it fast enough when you need it. I’ve never liked shanks much for this reason. My confidence and comfort came from being good with my fists.
As my thoughts rolled on, I was distracted from them by a voice shouting, “Ese, Warrior!”
I motioned over towards my cell bars. My cell was the lower corner cell. Three other tiers were above me. I looked around trying to locate the direction from where the voice came. I then noticed an arm sleeved with prison ink waving at me from two tiers up on the opposite side of my cell.
“I’m coming down!” said the owner of the arms. “Do you know how to fish?”
“Yeah,” I hollered back.
Fishing in prison is where one twists up some line made from the thread of boxers, T-shirts, sheets, even a towel. The line thickness and length varies depending on what you’re pulling towards you and how far you have to go. What you’re doing though, is sending or retrieving something from another’s line. It’s called fishing because you have to cast your line out several times in order to catch the other person’s. Weights like combs, batteries, bars of soap, are tied to the ends of the lines for greater manoeuvrability and retrieval.
Just then I heard Cowboy at the bars. “Hey, there’s a fishing line underneath yer bunk. The dude there before left it for the next guy.”
I went and looked below my bunk. Wrapped up in a hiding spot only those doing time are usually aware of was a white nylon line made from the polyester band that makes the elastic in boxers. Those lines are usually strong. I retrieved and began to unravel the line. It had the crimped half end of a toothpaste tube stuffed with cardboard for a weight. Perfect, I thought. It’s exactly how I would have made a line.
I then heard a soft thud hit the concrete just outside my bars. An orange line was stretching from the tattooed arms two tiers up to the floor just in front of me. At the end of the line was a sock stuffed with what looked to be a milk carton for a weight. The ingenuity of a prisoner’s weight says a lot about him when it comes to fishing. The more creative, the more disciplined he is. The more half ass, the more lazy.
I shot my toothpaste-tube weight out over the orange line. “OK! Pull your slack!” I yelled.
The tattooed arms pulled the slack, lifting my line high enough to yank the toothpaste weight underneath his, so I could pull his line and weight in. I had his line in my house. “OK! I got it!” I yelled.
“Pull!” he yelled.
I pulled in his orange line until I was met with a little plastic bag containing a kite for me.
“Orale, I got it!” I shouted.
“Orale, read the wila [letter] and get back at us!”
“Alright then!”
“Have a buen dia [good day], Warrior!”
“Tu tambien [you also].”
I detached the letter, threw out the orange line and began to read the message.
Click here to read:
Central Unit Part 1
Central Unit Part 2
Central Unit Part 3
More About Fishing In Prison
Our friends inside appreciate your comments.
Email comments and questions for Warrior to writeinside@hotmail.com or post them below. To post a comment if you do not have a Google/Blogger account, just select anonymous for your identity.
Shaun P. Attwood
Saturday, June 20, 2009
The MBA Bubble Continues
A friend of mine sent this to me.
And what I get a kick out of is not the fact they can't find jobs or that once again your beloved Captain has done his job as an economist and predicted things accurately again. I get a kick out of how they don't know if this is "normal" to be out of a job this long. Telling me they have NOT had the basics of economics taught to them (or some slanted, indoctrinist's view of economics was foisted upon them).
Ergo, I believe it is high time for another "Economic Lesson of the Day" by the Captain.
Now, everybody who is graduating would like jobs. And I know you may have been taught jobs come from Barack Obama's Magical Farting Unicorns and we'll just borrow a trillion dollars in some Keynesian thing and then the "pump will be primed" and then there will be a multiplier effect and then boom! Jobs!
But, I'm sorry kiddies. That's not how it works.
You see, you've been misled. The way I can tell is that (1) people in the general population think the government somehow has something to do with creating jobs. they say the "government must do SOMETHING" and (2) MB-freaking-A's can't even explain why they don't have jobs.
Both of which suggest to me you're working from an erroneous premise and that is that somehow the government is where jobs come from.
I've been meaning to make a post titled "The Great Liberal Economic Oort Cloud" (GLEOC) where liberals (and others) typically believe jobs come from government. The reason for the Oort Cloud metaphor is because they don't really know HOW jobs are created by government, but just assume that's where jobs come from. In reality, it is simply people being too intellectually lazy to think the economics of job creation through. They believe the government with its trillions of dollars and businesses and laws and lawyers and all these "really smart professional people" make this nice big "economic Oort cloud" and farts out jobs. It's not their concern how jobs are really created, it's all really too complicated for them to understand. Thank god we have Barack Obama and really smart Ivy Leaguers heading up the GLEOC!
But allow me to pose another theory (which isn't really a theory, it's reality). The Symbiotic Parasite Host Relationship Model (SPHRM).
You see, if you think about it, without an economy, without a people, without businesses, there is no need for government. If you have nothing to govern, then governments would not exist. Ergo, the GLEOC model is flawed because it puts the cart before the horse. If you believe in the GLEOC, then governments existed and people arose in response.
Obviously it's the reverse. With people, with a society, with an economy comes the need for it to be governed.
Therefore it is the government that lives off of the people and the economy.
Now, this FACT makes government a parasitic organization. It NEEDS a host. If there is no economy or society, there is no way a government can form on top of it. And this is not to say that government is bad or that were are using the word "parasitic" in the pejorative. It is needed and ergo why the relationship between the government and the economy is (or at least should be) symbiotic.
Symbiosis aside, the key thing is the SPHRM is correct in that it puts the horse before the cart. Therefore if you want job creation, guess what?
Yep, I'm sorry, that means you have to grow the private sector.
See, there is no public sector if there is no private sector because the private sector is the host the public sector needs. But if you look at how public sector has been crowding out the private sector you are seeing a parasite that has gone form just 3% the size of the host to now 40% (the chart below just shows federal spending, not state).
The host is frankly going into shock and dying.
Now, I know in college you were told by academians and government paid bureaucrats that you could all major in Puppies and Flowers and all get government jobs as "social workers" or "teachers" or "community organizers" or "government consultants" or become professors like them, but unfortunately that is following the GLEOC model. And the GLEOC model is not sustainable.
If you want jobs you have to grow the private sector. Which means doing things like;
1. ELIMINATING (not cut) ELIMINATING corporate taxes and BANNING THEM FOREVER
2. ELIMINATING (not cut) any form of capital gains or dividend taxes
3. Simplify the tax code.
4. Put limits on how large the parasite can grow as a percent of the economy
5. Scale down the size of the parasite itself so that the host may grow again
Of course (and this is where I spend most of my time now thinking and philosophizing about economics because this is really where the crux of this whole economics/political dynamic is being fought) what it funny is you've all been brainwashed from high school on to more or less hate the private sector. You hate "evil corporations." You hate "evil Corporate America." You hate "big oil." You're more than willing to vote more and more regulations to strangle the host. "Hey, let's all go green because it's cool!" "Yeaaa! Corporate Social Responsibility is the NEW MBA TREND!" You are all more or less programmed to be part of the parasite (or at least support the parasite) at the expense of the host.
And as I've been pushing the frontier of this particular philosophy out further, I've realized (sadly) you're so brainwashed no amount of reason, logic or plain ole facts and statistics are going to convince you otherwise. In other words, I've explained to you why you don't have jobs. I've explained to you how to get jobs. But you're so intellectually dishonest and weak your ego cannot sustain the fact you've been duped by previous generations. And since pride is now going to get in the way of truth, thereby condemning the host (and parasite might I add) to death, for me and my SPHRM-subscribing colleagues there's only one thing left to do;
Enjoy the Decline!
(oh! And buy my book which is on Kindle for 99 cents! Buying my book qualifies as enjoying the decline)
And what I get a kick out of is not the fact they can't find jobs or that once again your beloved Captain has done his job as an economist and predicted things accurately again. I get a kick out of how they don't know if this is "normal" to be out of a job this long. Telling me they have NOT had the basics of economics taught to them (or some slanted, indoctrinist's view of economics was foisted upon them).
Ergo, I believe it is high time for another "Economic Lesson of the Day" by the Captain.
Now, everybody who is graduating would like jobs. And I know you may have been taught jobs come from Barack Obama's Magical Farting Unicorns and we'll just borrow a trillion dollars in some Keynesian thing and then the "pump will be primed" and then there will be a multiplier effect and then boom! Jobs!
But, I'm sorry kiddies. That's not how it works.
You see, you've been misled. The way I can tell is that (1) people in the general population think the government somehow has something to do with creating jobs. they say the "government must do SOMETHING" and (2) MB-freaking-A's can't even explain why they don't have jobs.
Both of which suggest to me you're working from an erroneous premise and that is that somehow the government is where jobs come from.
I've been meaning to make a post titled "The Great Liberal Economic Oort Cloud" (GLEOC) where liberals (and others) typically believe jobs come from government. The reason for the Oort Cloud metaphor is because they don't really know HOW jobs are created by government, but just assume that's where jobs come from. In reality, it is simply people being too intellectually lazy to think the economics of job creation through. They believe the government with its trillions of dollars and businesses and laws and lawyers and all these "really smart professional people" make this nice big "economic Oort cloud" and farts out jobs. It's not their concern how jobs are really created, it's all really too complicated for them to understand. Thank god we have Barack Obama and really smart Ivy Leaguers heading up the GLEOC!
But allow me to pose another theory (which isn't really a theory, it's reality). The Symbiotic Parasite Host Relationship Model (SPHRM).
You see, if you think about it, without an economy, without a people, without businesses, there is no need for government. If you have nothing to govern, then governments would not exist. Ergo, the GLEOC model is flawed because it puts the cart before the horse. If you believe in the GLEOC, then governments existed and people arose in response.
Obviously it's the reverse. With people, with a society, with an economy comes the need for it to be governed.
Therefore it is the government that lives off of the people and the economy.
Now, this FACT makes government a parasitic organization. It NEEDS a host. If there is no economy or society, there is no way a government can form on top of it. And this is not to say that government is bad or that were are using the word "parasitic" in the pejorative. It is needed and ergo why the relationship between the government and the economy is (or at least should be) symbiotic.
Symbiosis aside, the key thing is the SPHRM is correct in that it puts the horse before the cart. Therefore if you want job creation, guess what?
Yep, I'm sorry, that means you have to grow the private sector.
See, there is no public sector if there is no private sector because the private sector is the host the public sector needs. But if you look at how public sector has been crowding out the private sector you are seeing a parasite that has gone form just 3% the size of the host to now 40% (the chart below just shows federal spending, not state).
The host is frankly going into shock and dying.
Now, I know in college you were told by academians and government paid bureaucrats that you could all major in Puppies and Flowers and all get government jobs as "social workers" or "teachers" or "community organizers" or "government consultants" or become professors like them, but unfortunately that is following the GLEOC model. And the GLEOC model is not sustainable.
If you want jobs you have to grow the private sector. Which means doing things like;
1. ELIMINATING (not cut) ELIMINATING corporate taxes and BANNING THEM FOREVER
2. ELIMINATING (not cut) any form of capital gains or dividend taxes
3. Simplify the tax code.
4. Put limits on how large the parasite can grow as a percent of the economy
5. Scale down the size of the parasite itself so that the host may grow again
Of course (and this is where I spend most of my time now thinking and philosophizing about economics because this is really where the crux of this whole economics/political dynamic is being fought) what it funny is you've all been brainwashed from high school on to more or less hate the private sector. You hate "evil corporations." You hate "evil Corporate America." You hate "big oil." You're more than willing to vote more and more regulations to strangle the host. "Hey, let's all go green because it's cool!" "Yeaaa! Corporate Social Responsibility is the NEW MBA TREND!" You are all more or less programmed to be part of the parasite (or at least support the parasite) at the expense of the host.
And as I've been pushing the frontier of this particular philosophy out further, I've realized (sadly) you're so brainwashed no amount of reason, logic or plain ole facts and statistics are going to convince you otherwise. In other words, I've explained to you why you don't have jobs. I've explained to you how to get jobs. But you're so intellectually dishonest and weak your ego cannot sustain the fact you've been duped by previous generations. And since pride is now going to get in the way of truth, thereby condemning the host (and parasite might I add) to death, for me and my SPHRM-subscribing colleagues there's only one thing left to do;
Enjoy the Decline!
(oh! And buy my book which is on Kindle for 99 cents! Buying my book qualifies as enjoying the decline)
Friday, June 19, 2009
The Captain at 50!
Or perhaps more like "The Captain makes General."
Didn't know this guy existed, but isn't it interesting in how we've come to some of the same conclusions although we haven't met?
But I'm sure it's nothing.
Just keep contributing to that 401k kiddies!
Didn't know this guy existed, but isn't it interesting in how we've come to some of the same conclusions although we haven't met?
But I'm sure it's nothing.
Just keep contributing to that 401k kiddies!
The Future of the US Dollar
So I am cleaning, for it is good to clean, and in my effort to lessen the amount of junk I have, I stumbled upon some old Soviet (I think) currency, that no doubt is worthless, because, well, as the leftists in this nation are about to find out, a piece of paper is just a piece of paper unless you actually have some level of production behind it.
All that being said, does anybody know what i have here? I collected coins as a youth, but I know very little about currency.
All that being said, does anybody know what i have here? I collected coins as a youth, but I know very little about currency.
The Crackhead Mariachi (by Long Island)
Long Island - Promising young cellmate I taught to trade the financial markets. Released on the 11th of December '05 and rearrested February ’08. Alleged to have committed forgery and hit an officer with a car. He is writing from Sheriff Joe Arpaio’s Lower Buckeye jail.
My cellmate is a paisa from Acapulco, but he’s been in the States for 25years. He’s a mariachi. He plays the bass guitar. He also smokes a lot of crack.
One night after performing at a restaurant, he started smoking crack and drinking. He blew all of his money by about 2am. He called a taxi driver he knew, who was also his crack connection. She came and picked him up. He tried to get her to give him some dope on credit and she refused. He then stabbed her four times, tied her up, put a plastic bag over her head, put her in the trunk of the cab and drove off in her car.
While she was in the trunk, she chewed a hole in the bag , so she could breathe. He took all of her dope and the $60 she had in her purse.
When he stopped the taxi, he opened up the trunk to check on the poor woman, pulled the bag off her head, and said, “Are you still alive, you ugly bitch?” He then closed the trunk again, and ran off in his mariachi suit.
He ran into South Phoenix, carrying a huge bass guitar. He was covered in blood and the cops were after him. He mugged a bike off a homeless guy, and took off to his brothers’ house.
The cops were already at his brothers’, and they both told on him and are going to testify against him. Near his brothers’, he got arrested.
The victim has showed up at every court date, begging the prosecutor to put him away for life. So far they’ve offered him 18 years.
We’ve been cellies for almost a year now. Despite what he did, he’s really a nice guy.
Click here for Long Island’s previous blog.
Our friends inside appreciate your comments.
Email comments for Long Island to writeinside@hotmail.com or post them below. To post a comment if you do not have a Google/Blogger account, just select anonymous for your identity.
Shaun P. Attwood
Long Island - Promising young cellmate I taught to trade the financial markets. Released on the 11th of December '05 and rearrested February ’08. Alleged to have committed forgery and hit an officer with a car. He is writing from Sheriff Joe Arpaio’s Lower Buckeye jail.
My cellmate is a paisa from Acapulco, but he’s been in the States for 25years. He’s a mariachi. He plays the bass guitar. He also smokes a lot of crack.
One night after performing at a restaurant, he started smoking crack and drinking. He blew all of his money by about 2am. He called a taxi driver he knew, who was also his crack connection. She came and picked him up. He tried to get her to give him some dope on credit and she refused. He then stabbed her four times, tied her up, put a plastic bag over her head, put her in the trunk of the cab and drove off in her car.
While she was in the trunk, she chewed a hole in the bag , so she could breathe. He took all of her dope and the $60 she had in her purse.
When he stopped the taxi, he opened up the trunk to check on the poor woman, pulled the bag off her head, and said, “Are you still alive, you ugly bitch?” He then closed the trunk again, and ran off in his mariachi suit.
He ran into South Phoenix, carrying a huge bass guitar. He was covered in blood and the cops were after him. He mugged a bike off a homeless guy, and took off to his brothers’ house.
The cops were already at his brothers’, and they both told on him and are going to testify against him. Near his brothers’, he got arrested.
The victim has showed up at every court date, begging the prosecutor to put him away for life. So far they’ve offered him 18 years.
We’ve been cellies for almost a year now. Despite what he did, he’s really a nice guy.
Click here for Long Island’s previous blog.
Our friends inside appreciate your comments.
Email comments for Long Island to writeinside@hotmail.com or post them below. To post a comment if you do not have a Google/Blogger account, just select anonymous for your identity.
Shaun P. Attwood
Thursday, June 18, 2009
Economic Schadenfreude of the Day
Today's economic schadenfreude is a two-fer!
Denny Hecker, scumbag, burnt out, loser middle age man that never had any real business skill or acumen is not only raided by the authorities, but decides to sue GMAC, the company that has since shot me down for about 3 jobs, even though if they hired me the first time, they may not have needed a taxpayer bailout...but that assumes they would have listened to me over their quants. Regardless, when the Nazis show up to fight the Communists, you don't intervene. You crack open a beer and watch.
And now, Extended Stay hotels filing for bankruptcy. Not that I have a personal grudge with them, BUT I recall calling them about a month ago to see how much a 6 week rental in Rapid City would cost (as I am going on an extended vacation).
$6,000.
Rapid, Effing, City?
$6,000 for 6 weeks?
$1,000 a week?
That's like me charging $500 for my book (which incidentally you should buy!)
And you wonder why you are filing for chapter 11.
Denny Hecker, scumbag, burnt out, loser middle age man that never had any real business skill or acumen is not only raided by the authorities, but decides to sue GMAC, the company that has since shot me down for about 3 jobs, even though if they hired me the first time, they may not have needed a taxpayer bailout...but that assumes they would have listened to me over their quants. Regardless, when the Nazis show up to fight the Communists, you don't intervene. You crack open a beer and watch.
And now, Extended Stay hotels filing for bankruptcy. Not that I have a personal grudge with them, BUT I recall calling them about a month ago to see how much a 6 week rental in Rapid City would cost (as I am going on an extended vacation).
$6,000.
Rapid, Effing, City?
$6,000 for 6 weeks?
$1,000 a week?
That's like me charging $500 for my book (which incidentally you should buy!)
And you wonder why you are filing for chapter 11.
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
Guard Peppersprays Female Prisoner's Corpse (by Lifer Renee)
Renee - She was only a teenager when she received a sixty-year sentence from a judge in Pima County. Fourteen years into her sentence, Renee is writing from Perryville prison in Goodyear, Arizona, providing a rare and unique insight into a women's prison.
I was walking back to the yard after work. My heart was heavy. The yard was silent due to a lockdown.
At about 7am, I heard a panic-stricken voice over the radio. “This is 30 Yard to Main Control. I am initiating an ICS. I have inmate Soto in her cell. She has something tied around her neck. She is unresponsive. I need Medical and an A-Team response.”
Moments later: “The nurse is administering CPR.”
The next afternoon, we were released from lockdown status, so I went to see my friend, Cletis.
I asked her, “Friend, what happened? Please tell me she didn’t die.”
“Oh my God! Yes, friend, she did die.” Looking at me dead in the eye, she grabbed my arm. “Friend, they couldn’t get her down. Officer A. is traumatized. They said Soto, was blue and they couldn’t cut whatever was around her neck.”
“Where did she hang herself from?”
“The ladder.”
“Where the hell were the Suicide Prevention Aides?”
“They lost their jobs because of the budget cuts.”
“Where the hell were the cops?”
“Well, Macey was showing her ass again, causing all kinds of trouble. All of the officers on 30 Yard were dealing with that.” Cletis then asked, “Friend, do you know they sprayed her?”
“Sprayed her for what?”
“To try and get her to move. They unloaded a can of pepper spray in the room.”
“They sprayed someone who was dead!”
“Yes, friend. Then Johnson set her room on fire. She lit the place up. That’s why we didn’t come out last night.”
“How sad,” I said. “They keep those girls back there entirely too long.”
“I know, friend.”
Silence fell between us as we watched the women on the yard.
Click here for Renee’s blog about the death of Marcia Powell.
Our friends inside appreciate your comments. Email comments for Renee to writeinside@hotmail.com or post them below. To post a comment if you do not have a Google/Blogger account, just select anonymous for your identity.
Shaun P. Attwood
Renee - She was only a teenager when she received a sixty-year sentence from a judge in Pima County. Fourteen years into her sentence, Renee is writing from Perryville prison in Goodyear, Arizona, providing a rare and unique insight into a women's prison.
I was walking back to the yard after work. My heart was heavy. The yard was silent due to a lockdown.
At about 7am, I heard a panic-stricken voice over the radio. “This is 30 Yard to Main Control. I am initiating an ICS. I have inmate Soto in her cell. She has something tied around her neck. She is unresponsive. I need Medical and an A-Team response.”
Moments later: “The nurse is administering CPR.”
The next afternoon, we were released from lockdown status, so I went to see my friend, Cletis.
I asked her, “Friend, what happened? Please tell me she didn’t die.”
“Oh my God! Yes, friend, she did die.” Looking at me dead in the eye, she grabbed my arm. “Friend, they couldn’t get her down. Officer A. is traumatized. They said Soto, was blue and they couldn’t cut whatever was around her neck.”
“Where did she hang herself from?”
“The ladder.”
“Where the hell were the Suicide Prevention Aides?”
“They lost their jobs because of the budget cuts.”
“Where the hell were the cops?”
“Well, Macey was showing her ass again, causing all kinds of trouble. All of the officers on 30 Yard were dealing with that.” Cletis then asked, “Friend, do you know they sprayed her?”
“Sprayed her for what?”
“To try and get her to move. They unloaded a can of pepper spray in the room.”
“They sprayed someone who was dead!”
“Yes, friend. Then Johnson set her room on fire. She lit the place up. That’s why we didn’t come out last night.”
“How sad,” I said. “They keep those girls back there entirely too long.”
“I know, friend.”
Silence fell between us as we watched the women on the yard.
Click here for Renee’s blog about the death of Marcia Powell.
Our friends inside appreciate your comments. Email comments for Renee to writeinside@hotmail.com or post them below. To post a comment if you do not have a Google/Blogger account, just select anonymous for your identity.
Shaun P. Attwood
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
What Do You Mean I Have to Wait Until 2014 to Get My Magic Obama Unicorn?
I've often said, "American's want their wars won just like they want their Big Mac's served. In under two minutes."
This was in response to the childish expectation that Iraq was going to be done and over with in 1 year and if it wasn't then by god we got to go out and protest! The same could be said for the Vietnam War, but then they were willing to accept their Big Macs served in about 5 minutes. We're just all that much more spoiled now.
But wait, just wait. For whereas we can tuck tail and run like so many leftists want us to do when it comes to foreign wars, we do NOT have that option when it comes to the economy. And while all the burnt out, spoiled brat, trust fund hippies and their equally spoiled Gen-X offspring "demand" the God Obama do something NOW about the economy, they're about to get a rude awakening in the the cold harsh world known as reality.
The economy is not coming back for at least 2 years, and in some areas (COUGH COUGH-democrat strongholds-HACK HACK!) not for 4-5 years. Nothing the government can do will change that. The economic problems of America are distinctly American and reside within the people. It is the American people with the problems who spend more than they make, never save anything for the future, and promise to themselves - through the government - things that can only be afforded by borrowing from the Chinese (which we have no intention nor capability of ever paying back).
Ergo, this coolio little interactive chart that will show you just how long it will take your friendly neighborhood to be not-so-economically-sucky!
Now I know, I know, Obama said he will change this. And I know, I know, you've been brought up all these years to believe in hope and change and social security and unicorns and Santa Claus and sociology degrees landing you a job. But what you're about to find out is that your entire economic philosophy and ideology of how the real world works is horribly flawed and wrong. It is so far from the real world that only the utter collapse and failure of your beliefs when put into practice like somebody like Obama will wake you up to the realities you face.
In the meantime, I wouldn't hold your breath for "hope and change." 2014 is a long time to hold your breath till.
This was in response to the childish expectation that Iraq was going to be done and over with in 1 year and if it wasn't then by god we got to go out and protest! The same could be said for the Vietnam War, but then they were willing to accept their Big Macs served in about 5 minutes. We're just all that much more spoiled now.
But wait, just wait. For whereas we can tuck tail and run like so many leftists want us to do when it comes to foreign wars, we do NOT have that option when it comes to the economy. And while all the burnt out, spoiled brat, trust fund hippies and their equally spoiled Gen-X offspring "demand" the God Obama do something NOW about the economy, they're about to get a rude awakening in the the cold harsh world known as reality.
The economy is not coming back for at least 2 years, and in some areas (COUGH COUGH-democrat strongholds-HACK HACK!) not for 4-5 years. Nothing the government can do will change that. The economic problems of America are distinctly American and reside within the people. It is the American people with the problems who spend more than they make, never save anything for the future, and promise to themselves - through the government - things that can only be afforded by borrowing from the Chinese (which we have no intention nor capability of ever paying back).
Ergo, this coolio little interactive chart that will show you just how long it will take your friendly neighborhood to be not-so-economically-sucky!
Now I know, I know, Obama said he will change this. And I know, I know, you've been brought up all these years to believe in hope and change and social security and unicorns and Santa Claus and sociology degrees landing you a job. But what you're about to find out is that your entire economic philosophy and ideology of how the real world works is horribly flawed and wrong. It is so far from the real world that only the utter collapse and failure of your beliefs when put into practice like somebody like Obama will wake you up to the realities you face.
In the meantime, I wouldn't hold your breath for "hope and change." 2014 is a long time to hold your breath till.
Hold Off on Paypal Donations
Hi All,
If you were planning on clicking on Natasha and donating to your good ol' Captain, just hold off.
They make setting up an account as about as easy as launching the space shuttle during a hurricane.
I will let you know when the account is functional, in the meantime just save all those billions before you donate them to the Captain.
If you were planning on clicking on Natasha and donating to your good ol' Captain, just hold off.
They make setting up an account as about as easy as launching the space shuttle during a hurricane.
I will let you know when the account is functional, in the meantime just save all those billions before you donate them to the Captain.
Stalkers & Why They Do It.
Over 3 & a half years on, Gareth Rodger is still at it. Stalking this blog and very likely every other place his name is mentioned
A while back I exposed his recent Facebook profile.
If you look at the picture below he has been visiting using both his Entice Media Account and his User account. His company Website - Entice Media
I kept logs of his very first visits to this blog , he has a tendency NOT to read anything I say, he skips everything that would spark any humanity inside of him and focuses only on HIMSELF (as always) and what this blog could be doing to tarnish his name.
Douglas Beckstead stalks his victims in the same way.
Why do they do it?
What is it with psychopaths/narcissists? do they stalk online because of mere curiosity or just to keep tabs? I'd say both, and many more reasons.
His false self, his mask , his reputation are all at stake with every stroke of the keyboard.
"At the end of a relationship the Narcissist faces the potential exposure of his abusive behaviour, your leaving and loss of expected NS (Narcissistic Supply), ensuing divorce, financial repercussions, which can result in narcissistic injury and subsequent narcissistic rage.
His targets find themselves on the receiving end of the Narcissist’s relentless continued abuse, smear campaign, endless legal battles and other creative cruelties. This narcissistic rage may be, in fact, much worse than what you experienced within the relationship." Source
Stalkers & Technology
"Technology is almost the greatest gift to a persistent stalker,"
They used to sit outside their targets' homes -- hiding in cars or bushes -- waiting to follow them.
They used to leave hastily-scrawled notes on their windshields before slashing their tires.
But now stalkers have moved into the 21st century, using modern technology to leave their terrorized victims living in fear.
If any victim is being harassed with e-mails, don't reply, and save the e-mails -- if you reply you increase the problem and it encourages the activity to continue,"
ABOUT CYBERSTALKERS
Cyber stalkers can be broadly categorized into three types. (Sometimes these categories overlap).
The obsessed cyberstalker
This is the most common type of cyberstalker and he or she usually has had a prior relationship with the victim. The stalker cannot come to terms with the fact that their relationship is over. He or she then takes a lot of trouble to coerce the victim into re-entering the relationship or has his or her revenge on the victim by inducing fear and making his or her life miserable.
One should not be misled by believing that this stalker is harmlessly in love and incapable of causing real harm.
The delusional cyberstalker
This type of stalker is usually unrelated to the intended victim. Most of the time, contact is achieved through the Internet. These stalkers suffer from mental illnesses such as schizophrenia, psychopathy, bipolar disorder, narcissism, etc. This is why, sometimes, they are severely deluded into believing that their victim is in love with them even though they may have never met. These false beliefs keep them tied to their victims. This particular condition is also known as erotomania.
A delusional stalker is often a social outcast because of his or her mental illness and this makes him or her all the more desperate for companionship. Victims often tend to be married and from high profile professions such as celebrities, doctors, teachers, etc.
The most common type of stalker from this group is the type which pursues a celebrity and this syndrome is better known as the "obsessed fan syndrome". Delusional stalkers are very difficult to shake off.
The vengeful cyber stalker
These cyber stalkers are typically disgruntled employees and ex-spouses, ex-lovers or ex-friends who are resentful towards their victim due to some reason or the other. The motive for them is the feeling that THEY were the ones who have been victimized first and that they are merely teaching their victims a lesson.
His or her actions are similar to that of the obsessional stalker but they differ in motive. He or she is usually hell-bent on inducing fear in his or her victims by blackmailing or threatening them after taking over their computers.
WHAT MOTIVATES A CYBERSTALKER/ HARASSER?
The following are general motivations for any cyberstalker. The more fearful cyberstalkers tend to have more than one motive.
Anonymity of the Net
As mentioned before, the very nature of anonymous communications through the Internet makes it much easier to be a cyberstalker than a stalker in the real world.
Obsession for love
It is often the case that when relationships that begin online or in real life are halted abruptly by one person, the rejected lover cannot accept the end of the relationship. This leads to the rejected one pursuing his or her ex-lover online as well as offline.
One major problem related to obsessional stalking is that since it often starts off as real romance and intimacy, much personal information is shared between both persons involved. This makes it all the easier for the cyberstalker to harass his or her victim by using personal information against him or her or publicizing them.
Obsessions may also start as pastimes or for psychological reasons. These stalkers live in their own fantasy realms, so it is usually unnecessary for the victim to have done anything to attract his or her attention in the first place. Obsessional stalkers are usually jealous, possessive and manipulative people.
Revenge & Hate
It may start of as a mere argument blown out of proportion, leading eventually to a relationship based on intense hatred and a need for revenge. The criminal behavior may also be triggered off as a result of a rude comment posted online. The offending party may regret his or her action immediately but the offended party is not that easy to shake off.
Sometimes, hate-centred cyberstalking is triggered off for no reason at all. This is another indication of the psychological instability of cyberstalkers. Death threats and vulgar messages via email or through live chat messages are a common manifestation of this type of stalking.
Ego-centrism
Some stalkers are least interested in the damage they do to or how close they get to their victims. They are only interested in the process of gaining control over their victims just to prove to themselves or their friends that they can. They do not have any grudge against their victims but are simply using them as a means to exhibit their power and control to their friends or doing it just for the challenge. The unlucky victim is usually chosen at random.
Apart from the fact that they are highly manipulative and risk-taking, these stalkers do not suffer from any mental illness. Most people who receive threats online are fooled into believing that their harasser is more than capable of carrying out their threats. In fact, more often than not, this type of stalker is a child or teenager who cannot possibly have the means of carrying out the threats made.
IMPACT ON VICTIMS
Cyberstalking undermines the reputation and credibility of the Internet as a platform of information and for communication.
Being stalked can be an extremely fearful experience... Receiving messages filled with hatred or obsessive desire from someone whose face they have never seen before can be extremely terrifying. This is even more so if they start thinking that they themselves had done something wrong to deserve such treatment.
The knowledge that one is being continually pursued for whatever reason in the real or in the cyberworld is not something one handle if he or she keeps his or her fear inside. A new user of the Net may be so traumatized by such an experience that he or she may be too frightened to use the Net ever again. The worst thing that could happen is that the victim is convinced by the stalker to meet him or her in the real world and is then raped or assaulted or even murdered in a secluded area.
Such incidents severely undermine the reputation and credibility of the Internet as a worldwide platform of information and for communication. - Source
~~~~~~~~~~~
Minimize What People Can Find Out About You Online
Cyberstalking A Very Real Problem
Stalkers Cause Anxiety & Stress - PTSD
Beware The Rage Of The Cyberpath When Caught
The Poor Cyberpath Feels Threatened
Another Facebook Stalker Arrested
Online Stalking Made Easy
Thanks to EOPC for the articles & links.
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A Season For Everything. Letting Go.
During recent renovations on my home, I had to clear out every room before the new flooring could be laid.
I came across one of Gareth Rodger's old books on my shelf , it was tucked away behind a ton of my novels. I chucked the book over to an open box destined for the trash heap , while it was flying through the air a yellow piece of paper fluttered from within it's pages and landed on the floor.
I noticed it, but didn't pay much attention , nor go straight over and pick it up. I was far too busy imagining how great the house would be, deciding when to host the BBQ, which friends to invite, and thinking of my great summer ahead.
When the room was finally clear the yellow piece of paper was all that remained. I walked over, picked it up , noticed the blue tac on the back (wall adhesion) and spent the next 10 mins laughing. Don't get me wrong I could of cried , or been angry, but my first reaction was to laugh and I wondered why. This puzzled me.
What did I find so funny?, I asked myself "Shouldn't I be angry? upset? hurt? feel violated?, betrayed? .... I didn't feel any of those things and I think that's when it sunk in......
......that I just didn't care about him anymore, he wasn't and isn't important, I am past being angry, I am past being bitter and resentful, I am enjoying my life and finding the past with Gareth Rodger a distant memory.
I still suffer with a lot of PTSD symptoms, the grief in losing my 3 children, my father and other things. Sure I grieve, but not "for" or "about" him anymore. The Fantasy of "Him" has been gradually replaced with the reality of "who he was"
I still find myself angry sometimes, but it doesn't control my every waking moment. Its an "every now and then" experience instead of a constant everyday battle.
I feel free, confident and I am finally regaining my self esteem.
I still have my down days, my off days, and my angry days but its not everyday. There is no more grieving for what could of been, who he could of been, or the future I thought I would miss out on. Like I said before, fantasy has been replaced by reality, actuality. Truth...
When all is revealed at the end , you'll begin to see that the ideal relationship with the narcissist was just fantasy... of what he is, could of been, and was, and enter reality , where all things are laid bare, on the table, and in the open.
Letting go isn't easy, but with every passing battle, little by little , the pain, anger and resentment passes. I find myself thinking of my garden, children, days out, and plans instead of dwelling on the past. I am looking to the future!
Since having a gardener come out and transform my overgrown, weed filled yard, I have found a new hobby. Gardening is wonderfully therapeutic.
I go out everyday to water and tend to my flowers, shrubs and plants. There are times when they will wilt and even die, but I notice if I tend to their needs they come back in full bloom when the season is right. New buds appear, leaves become green and new healthy roots grow. I am quick to cut back the weeds when I see them creeping up and parasites are kept away by pellets.
After the narcissist we are left damaged, abused, neglected and underfed. Given time, watering, tender care, and nourishment our roots become stronger, new buds begin to grow and we flourish! we bloom into a new season!
Much like the overgrown, dying garden we need to start afresh, plant new healthy roots in our lives, choose the right food & the right gardener. Any weeds that creep up you cut back, much the same way you would cut out & avoid people you know would be damaging to you. Once you know what a weed looks like, how it grows and destroys ,you can spot it a mile off.
At the end of the day it's how much care we are willing to take over our mental and emotional health. Will we work on ourselves or allow the weeds to overcome and destroy us?
9 months ago if that piece of paper had fluttered out of the pages of the book, I would of reacted completely differently, angry, bitter, hurt and betrayed.
It's times like these that I cherish, there is a season for everything, A time for anger, a time to cry, a time to grieve, and a time to be bitter. A time for truth, a time for plans, a time for peace, and a time to let go and bloom!
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