Kiss My Ass

We took the Soul into the dealership this morning for an inspection and took the opp to have it serviced.  We picked it up tonight and everything had been done but the inspection.  No matter, I’ll take it by the guys on the corner and say hello to the threepers.

I usually dump packages in the box and not bother postal employees at the counter, but today, I was feeling charitable and decided to take some inside.  Last week, the nice white lady handed my a basket, I put my stuff in it, placed it on the counter, thanked her and left.

Today, I encountered a young black guy at the counter, off to the side from waiting customers, just like last time.  I asked him for a basket, two steps away, and he told me I’d need to ask his supervisor, who was waiting on customers.  So, I deposited my packages on the counter, told him to kiss my ass and left.

I got lunch on the way back and the Wife told me as I walked in that I couldn’t tell postal employees to kiss my ass.  The normally unavailable postmaster had called to complain.  He suggested I drop my packages off at the loading dock out back, accessible by a buzzer.

I told the Wife I’d seen several people lose it after no one responded to said buzzer.

It is what it is and I’ll deal with it, unless I’m rubbed out by the APWU.

I texted the He-Man Woman Hater’s Club to see how things were going.  Now that leaves are up here, I need to deal with those.  I also need to get the Fun Machine and drive it some.

I made it through Thanksgiving without having to threaten to go to Liberty, but Christmas plans were accordingly abbreviated on my behalf.  I’m getting too old to pretend I believe in Jesus or deal with the inlaws.

This weekend’s snowstorm was a hoot, with the arrival of Crock-Pot Express Crock Programmable Multi-Cooker, Stainless Steel (SCCPPC600-V1).  The roads never got bad, so I hit the Food Lion just down the street about every four hours.  Chuck roast Thursday  night, chicken thighs Friday, carnitas Saturday and wings for the Panthers game.

It’s a pressure cooker with presets for various items.  Everything took 35 minutes, once pressure was reached, but the wings for 15.  The Wife told me to put the wings and sauce in the oven for awhile and that helped.

Suffered through a six pack of Natty Greene’s Red Nose.  I detoxed with Natural Light and I’m drinking Fat Tire tonight.  We’ve loads of leftovers in the fridge, so the cooker gets a break.

We made it through the smash and grabs last week in the shopping center without getting hit.  The wintertime southern exposure cooks the storefront windows, so blinds have been installed behind the display models, which are changed every three days, lest they be ruined.  We think the resulting opaqueness may have discouraged entry, that and we sold clothes to the perp’s mom.

All is not well at Golden Gate.  It turns out sharing a shopping center with a Planet Fitness is a big pain in the ass: lots of the wrong kind of people.  We’ve not had a customer get run over by a master of the universe in a Maz yet, but it’s only a matter of time.

Truth is the website is rapidly overtaking store traffic and we’re glad for it.  Fuck retail.  The customers deserve what happens to them.  Rather than deal with whatever waddles in the door, we’ll serve a highly attenuated community of loyal customers who understand and appreciate the value we purvey.

The leftover chuck roast stew and teryaki chicken wings were amazing.

The Wife really got hooked on TCM during the recent series of movies made by Hollywood blacklist victims.  And she enjoys watching the Panthers.

I don’t get too excited about football until December and wow, what a show.  Roger Goodell and Colin Kaepernick cannot undo that which these playoff hopefuls have wrought.  It all happens with such incredible speed and complexity, you need a few minutes to diagnose each play.

The highlight film of disallowed touchdown passes this year is soul crushing, when you consider the alternate universe where the refs got it right instead.

It looked Sunday like the officials were calling games too close, perhaps too keep teams in line, after the recent Oakland-Denver riot.  Indeed, Seattle’s thuggery on getting beat by Jacksonville proved the NFL’s point.

But for every lamentable action there’s a Julius Pepper and a Carson Wentz, examples of what might be and might have been.  Pathos of the gods for everyman.

I have little patience for boycotts and the NFL in particular.  The sportainment machine has thoroughly optimized the college system into producing a league of Cam Newtons, tempting the fates each week in systems like the Saints, where success is committed like ingenious crime.

I think the NFL pretty much mirrors society.  Bertrand Russell said the major challenges of an industrial society were materialism and narcissism.  Football appeals to both.

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