another write up; license revoked

August 24, 2007

     The week was about par for the course.  Massive progress on the baghouse, dastardly bout with dehydration, and written up today for speeding on a forklift.  I think I was doing like 8 in a 5.  Sometimes I forget I’m union labor, and put the job ahead of the pissant rules.  Well, today the safety manager saw me, and had a genuine conniption fit.

   Let me step back a minute.  Earlier this week I read that they found that the same virus that causes the common cold causes obesity.  Something about human stem cells turning to fat cells when contacted by the cold virus.  I mentioned this at work and so its become all the rage to ask people that are rotund if they aren’t feeling well.  This likely as not has something to do with my speeding ticket, as the midget that busted me is quite round.

   So anyway,  I’m sweating like a pig, and as I said flying down the main driveway at work.  I’d say my hair was blowing in the breeze, but I was doing 8.  It’s like 99 degrees, and this micro peckerhead comes out of his air conditioned office for the first time in at least two weeks and screams in his best falsetto for me to stop.  I hear what sounds like a bird being attacked with a weedwhacker, and fearing I have managed to run over something while doing 8 I stopped.  This allowed tiny mighty mo to take the 475 steps required to traverse the 20 or so feet between he and I.

    I get down off the lift, and remove my mask and hearing protection so that I can hear the banal crap spewing from his fat wobbling face.  He’s literally yelling incomprehensibly at me.  I hold up my hand in the international gesture to shut the fuck up, and for whatever reason he did so.  I then inquired as to whether he would like me to get him a step stool so he could scream at me face to face.  I’m not sure why but this appeared to push the pudgy little fellow from irate to livid, and with a loathsome squeal that I should not move he turned and sprinted as fast as his 18″ long legs would carry him back to his office where apparently he called my supervisor.

   My supervisor is not a bad guy, but I fear he is tiring of my unique ability to piss off anyone within a 50 foot radius.  He strides up with that long suffering look on his face and informs me that I shall now shut the hell up and accompany him to the little turds office.  I’m good with that.  I do that even. 

   The first words out of my bosses mouth when we walk in the office are “damn phil, are you not feeling well?”  I manage not to laugh, but the grin was unstoppable.  Apparently phil knew what that was all about, and asked me to “wait outside.”  Again, being the always eager to obey sort I did as I was asked.  I went outside, hopped on the lift, and continued doing what I was doing.  Apparently the weeble meant wait right outside his office, and this was made clear to me 1.5 hours later when I came down for break.  He never did give me a straight answer as to why he didn’t come get me.  Either his legs were to short for the stairs, or he knew I would throw him off.

   Anyway, to make a long story short I am no longer allowed to drive forklifts until I have undergone some “intensive retraining.”  This will occur when hell freezes over of course , because there is no way in hell that little cocksucker is getting me into a forklift driving class for doing 8 in a 5.


Why I’m ok with Hate Speech

August 17, 2007

    I know, I know, now you don’t like me.  If you don’t, you’re not the sort of person I wish to know anyway, so, “darn it.”

     I am ok with it.  Hate speech I mean.  The first amendment grants the right, and I’m afraid that when we start limiting hate speech we set an awful precendent.  Also, hate crimes being punished more severely than other crimes is absolutely unamerican.

     Part of growing older is hopefully becoming wiser.  I haven’t hated anyone or anything in a long time, and I’ve had some run of the mill heinous shit happen to me in my lifetime.  Nothing others haven’t gone through and survived.  No being dipped into a vat of sulphuric acid by Columbian Drug lords high on crack and bored out of their skulls or anything.

     This absence of malice does not however keep me from picking on hillbillies, republicans, liberals, and almost every other socially defineable group at one time or another.  For delivery purposes sometimes it sounds absolutely hateful.  I could be punished I suppose, and if you happen to know a leggy blonde about so tall with legs up to here let her know I’ve been a bad boy if you would please.

   I’m rambling.  Surprised?  Not if you’ve been here before you aren’t.  What I’m working my way around to is hate speech is a good thing.  It’s honest, heartfelt, emotion, vociferously delivered in a manner that allows the rest of us to know just what a sorry assed human the speaker is.  

     An example of this would be poor old George.  The hate speech directed at him is as voluminous and colorful as that directed at any president since Truman.  It’s not only vitriolic, but as often as not totally untrue, but fortunately protected by the first Amendment.  Same goes for the trash falling out of Baracks mouth lately.  This is obviously a man in search of a crusade that can make him seem like the rest of the big kids.  All it’s shown is that he is bigoted against mass quantities of the human race, and probably is justified in his feelings.  To deny him the right to express it would be as wrong as shutting down Daily Kos or White Noise Insanity.  They have almost nothing of value to impart to the conversation, but at least they allow us to know who they are.

   Just so you don’t think I’m picking on liberals,  I read Ann Coulters column today, and while clever, informative, and well written as always, it was just more hate speech spewing from the mouth of an overpublicized pundit.  Same goes for the nonsense coming out of O’reilly, Hannity, and the list continues almost forever.

   The reason we need hate speech should be obvious.  Our nation would stop communicating altogether if we were not allowed charachter assassination and verbal evisceration.  Republicans bashing gays, and gays bashing neo-cons.  Liberals screaming vitriolic antiwar rhetoric into microphones and besmirching the military, and the military vilifying the lefties.  Capitol hill would be the quietest place on the planet.  Quieter than an integrated prison, which would be silent as a church mouse.

   You see, the truth is we’re not all that gifted individually.  Check out the blogworld.  How often do you find a post you are really consumed by?   Almost never.  Hateful is usually more interesting than the sycophantic bullshit, but both forms of insidous stupidity are easy to remove from your daily reading.  I for one wish to hell I had a blogroll for work.  Just put on the people worth listening to, and be able to not even notice the braindead trogs that are so common.  I don’t, so what I do is not converse with those I find repugnant, and that’s the option we all have.

What we do, is hate…either publically or in little private enclaves, we hate each other, and its a beautiful thing.  Because that notwithstanding, as a society we remain incredibly successful.  All the things that make human beings better than shit tossing monkeys (now the animal lovers hate me) continue to flourish in the midst of all this ire.  As we age, for the most part, the hate will go away for most of us.  What will be left is maybe a little guilt, and a lot of wisdom about how the rest of society thinks.  So if you have it to say, say it.  You can start with me.  I’d prefer you do it intelligently, but if all you can come up with is honkie, or cracker, or whitey, or whatever the hell…run with it.  i don’t mind at all.


Dad of the year

July 13, 2007

my son comes home and says “dad, I caused a car accident,” with a big smile on his face.  Regardless of the circumstances, that’s not a nice combination.  I asked anyway.  “I was walking down the sidewalk, and this woman drives by, and she’s got this rubberneck thing going on staring at me. Then wham, she plows right into a pickup from behind.”  “was anyone hurt?”  “nope.  I went over and checked.”  I’m pleased he went to check, but damn his ego is going to be hard to fit in the house.

son #2 comes home.  He says “Dad, I need to talk to you.”  My mind screams “uh oh.”  My mouth says “go ahead.”  Well, I really like my best friends sister, and you know more about this kind of thing than Zach, so what should I do.”

“well, first you should be a better judge of what others know,” says I.  I know almost nothing about women, and the only moderately successful relationship I’ve ever had ended in death.  “well Zach just said “bros before ho’s.”  (can you do that with quotation marks? who cares? So I said “no man who has succeeded in a relationship has lived by that addage since we were writing on caves with dung.”  “well, what should I do?”  “whatever you decide.  Let me know how it works out.”

Daughter comes home.  “dad, can I have $20 to go to the movies with Kelsey?  Her mom says she’ll go with us.”

Sometimes daughters are the easy ones.