Amazonian Idiots

I plan on doing most of my Christmas shopping through Amazon this year to avoid the store crowds. I usually read the customer reviews before I buy anything there, my favorites being the ones that aren’t helpful for the following reasons:

The person who complains about electronics malfunctioning shortly after purchasing them for reasons that are clearly due to misuse or lack of care in handling. “I don’t understand why my iPod broke so quickly. All I did was throw it under a bus.”

The customer who writes book reviews that have nothing to do with the content of the book itself. These are the folks who complain that independent shippers didn’t mail them their stuff or that the copy they received had the third chapter printed three times in a row. These are customer service complaints, not book reviews.

The morons who can’t follow directions and blame it on the product itself. I read some complaint about a person who bought a henna tattoo kit and whined that it washed off after only a couple of days, rather than the several weeks the product promised. I’ve used henna ink before. It’s a pain in the ass if you want it to look right and last. You can’t use your hands or whichever part of your body you paint for hours and you can’t wash those parts for twelve hours. Users are given these instructions in detail; if the tattoos wash off after a couple of days it’s because said instructions were not adhered to. This is not the fault of the seller or manufacturer. It’s the dip who couldn’t follow directions who’s to blame.

Political rants/opinions disguised as book reviews. Oh, shut it and start a blog to do your moaning. I want to know if the book by that cokehead chick from “One Day At A Time” is any good, not what you think about her claims that she boinked her daddy for years as a kid.

The “Clearly Everyone Who Doesn’t Like This Film/Book/Product/He-Man Action Figure Isn’t As Intelligent As I” guy. Go fuck yourself. That’s all I have to say.

In contrast, the “Anybody Who Enjoys This Music/TV Show/Brand of Tube Socks Is An Idiot” guy. See above.

The person who comments that a reviewer is dumb in a post plagued with spelling and grammatical errors. “Your an idiot” being my favorite.

I”m not trying to be an elitist, here. There are a lot of very informative, well-written customer reviews at Amazon. But I still get a kick out of the small peppering of stupid found in between. It’s hours of fun.

We Ain’t Come From No Monkeys

I’m getting a little peeved at the number of articles I’ve read in the last week arguing that the film Darwin failing to secure a distributor at the Toronto Film Festival is proof in the puddin’ that Americans are all incurably sick with a case of teh spooky backwards stoopids. Not one of those articles have even entertained another possibility that might explain the lack of interest: the movie is a boring, crappy period drama that nobody anticipates people paying money to watch in theaters.

I haven’t seen it, so I can’t say either way. If it were a good movie otherwise and fear of the Christian right was the reason distributors were wary of picking up the film, surely there would be, at the very least, interest in limited releases in godless urban centers like New York and Los Angeles. Controversial films about religion come out in the US all the time. Sure, there are always a pack of morons who show up with picket signs and moan about it, but all that generally amounts to is a load of free publicity. Distributors like controversy. They court it. If anything, the potential for it would encourage the investment.

I’ve spent most of my life on “the left coast,” so it’s not like I’ve got my finger on the pulse of middle America and could guess how folks there would react to a movie about Charles Darwin. I do, however, doubt the reason that distributors are passing on a film about his life and work is because they worry armies of staunch Christian creationists will show up outside their doors with torches and pitchforks in the dark of night.

I do have to say, there’s something wildly amusing about foreigners decrying Americans as superstitious and backwardly religious to an ignorant fault, while basing their arguments on ignorance of their own that relies on little more than false, bigotted assumptions and stereotypes. Then again, what do I know? I’m an American. I don’t get irony, or so I’ve been told.

“CNN? I’ve Got Irony On Line One…”

I love the innernets. Here’s a story on CNN with a bunch of supposed media experts and analysts claiming that the over-abundance of reporting on worthless idiots like Jon and Kate and Ochomom (whatever) is merely catering to public appetites. The hundreds of comments that follow are nothing but one remark after another of people basically saying “enough already. We don’t care about these morons. Stop writing about them. We’d like nothing more than for them to go away.” Seriously, if you can find one positive comment defending the media being saturated with stories about these stupid gits, you’ve a keener eye than I do.

I’ve always said that I hate reality television, but I’m not a snob about it. If people like it, good for them. They can have it. But now that the subjects of those shows have begun slipping into the mainstream media – and I don’t just mean the entertainment media, I mean what is supposed to be hard news – I’m starting to lose my patience. It is, however, comforting to see from that article that it’s not a dumb public eating up this useless garbage. It’s a media cramming something down our throats that we couldn’t care less about.

How To Get A Woman To Kill You (At Least This One)

I guess that e-How site is like Wikipedia; any jackass with a computer that can find letters on a keyboard is allowed to provide content, regardless of how much they actually know.

So. Someone directed me to this doozy a few weeks ago and the stupid is still making smoke come out of my ears. I’ll skip over the “don’t put too many details into her empty little head. She can’t possibly juggle the idea of three forwards, two defensemen and a goalie while remembering the little rubber thingie is called a ‘puck’” crap and get to the bulleted “advice.”

How To Get A Woman To Love Hockey

Show your girl attention. Ask her if she is enjoying the game. Don’t ignore her.

Not a bad start, but as a rule of thumb, guys should be that way on any date, whether it’s a sporting event or not. However, you should probably exhibit said attention in between periods. Otherwise, you’re basically talking during the movie. That’s a no-no.

Get a program and show her some of the players. Women love a man “in the know.”

You know what they love even more? Being “in the know” on their own. Even so, this is not necessarily always true. I wouldn’t particularly care to be on a date with a man who was “in the know” about how to disembowel a human body and dispose of it without leaving any evidence behind.

Offer to buy her a team logo blanket to share during the game. You can enjoy snuggling together. You will definitely score points practicing this tip.

Okay, boys. Listen up. Do not try to snuggle with me during a hockey game. Ever. I will kill you. And I don’t mean that in the “wink-wink, I’ll kill ya, buddy!” 12 Angry Men sense of the word. I mean I will grab the nearest heavy object and bludgeon you to death with it in plain view.

Show her the game souvenirs and buy her some of those cute team earrings. She will love you for that.

Ugh. Team jewelry is tacky. I would appreciate the gesture, but think of those things as the ugly sweater your Grandma knitted for you that you only wear when she visits.

Give her spending money so she can partake of all those delicious foods offered at the concessions while you watch the ice babes at the end of the quarter.

Forget the idea that most women today have their own damn spending money or that not all teams have “ice babes,” for JEBUS’ FUCKING SAKE HOCKEY IS NOT PLAYED IN QUARTERS. Sorry, it was stupid enough to shout.

Kiss her every time your team scores.

See above on snuggling.

Share with her some of your favorite “insults” that you enjoy throwing out at the game.

Just try not to do it when she’s hurdling them herself. It’s rude to interrupt a person when they’re calling someone a douchebag fucktard with his skates on backwards.

Give her a camera to use during the game. Tell her you would love to have pictures of your time together. (This will keep her busy forever!)

Consider the possibility that she might have already brought her own camera and that actually watching the game might be keeping her too busy to make like she’s Diane Fucking Arbus.

Let her use your binoculars. So what if you are down front near the ice. She can use them to “people watch.” Warning: Take them away if you find she is spending too much time using them on the players and smiling.

Or she can smash them over your head because you’re an idiot for thinking she wants to watch any people other than the men playing the game. No need to take them away for ogling the players. They are in baggy-ass hockey gear and wearing helmets. There’s nothing drool-worthy out there.

Teach her the team chants. She will feel important and useful.

Why?

Buy her drinks. She will surely enjoy the game after more than one toddy. If she decides she wants to go down on the ice and skate with the players, it is time to cut her off!

Yes, imagining that your shoes have magically turned into ice skates probably means that you’ve had enough.

Thank her for coming the game with you and tell her how much more exciting it is with her there.

O_o Um, what?

Show her understanding and don’t laugh at her when she cries over the player who cracks open his skull open on the ice and has to be carried out on a stretcher. She has a sensitive side.

Frigging hell, women aren’t completely emotionally stunted wimps, you know. Even with a sensitive side, we know how to avert our eyes to avoid seeing unpleasant injuries, even when we’re watching on TV and they insist on replaying them over and over and over and over.

Hold her hand on occasion and let her know how nice it is to have her right beside you watching your “dream team” together.

Oh, just fuck off.

Teach her how to pass a hot dog down 3 rows across 10 people victoriously.

I think most women have learned how to pass hot dogs by the time they reach adulthood. Condescend much?

Don’t go “gaga” over the ice babes at half time. (Only when she is in the restroom)

Especially since “half time” at a hockey game occurs ten minutes into the second period (barring shoot-out/overtime). The only “babes” on the ice are the players. Go “gaga” over them and she might think you’re gay or something.

Don’t drink too much and don’t spill your food all over her.

Apply this rule to the whole of your life, not just a hockey game.

Keep your opposing fan slurs to a bare minimum because she still thinks you never use words like that in public.

She does?

Make sure your girl is warmly dressed. The ice arena can be cold and too much snuggling will hinder your game enthusiasm.

Again with the fucking snuggling…

Don’t tell her you once saw a hockey game, where one of the players was hit in the face point-blank by a hockey puck and they literally picked his teeth up off the ice afterwards or that he returned to the game with a mouth full of packing and a frozen face, and proceeded to play another regular period followed by two 20-minute overtime periods, and a bit of a third. Women just don’t understand the best part of the game.

That’s it. I’m finding the person who wrote this and stabbing them.

When the game is over, give her a great big hug and tell her you can’t wait for her to join you at the next game. If she want to know if she can wear that adorable red and white outfit that she thinks will match your team’s colors, make sure you oblige her by saying, “I can’t imagine anything that would look better!” Your real thought being, “except the time you saw an opposing player’s collarbone break when he is slammed into a goalpost or when your favorite player crushed his right hand when he used it to break his fall after beingcross-checked from behind.”

Make that “stabbing them twice.”

Go home and thank God for a great evening. Most important, pray they have hockey in heaven!

The only way there is no hockey in heaven is if there is no such thing as heaven.

How’s about this for some advice on how to get your girlfriend to like hockey: watch it with her. If she doesn’t take an interest on her own, either find a girl who does or accept having separate hobbies. It’s a lot easier and she won’t find you to be a patronizing asshole who thinks she’s too dumb to understand something as simple as a game.

Lost – In More Ways Than One

I used to watch “Lost” a few years ago. I started to get irked with the show midway into the second season (go on Anna Lucia. Point a gun at someone and say “Back up!” one more time, bitch. Christ, I have never been so happy to see a fictional character eat hot lead and die in my life). A couple of episodes into the third, I gave up entirely. It got a wee too daytime soapish for me. I’m not knocking people who still like it; have it. It’s all yours. I won’t go to your fanboy message boards and take a crap all over your taste in TV. I’m not a snob and make no assumptions about imaginary superior discretions when it comes to entertainment.

I had some time to kill this morning and got to wondering where the show was at these days, so I clicked on the official site to see if I could catch up with online episodes. They’re only running parts of the first and fifth seasons, so I had to jump in far, far from where I left off.

In my absence, uniformed commandos have stormed the island and a young Ben was shot by a grown Sayid, so apparently time travel has become a factor on the show. There’s an entirely different population of people who live in huts and dress like extras from Braveheart. Humans can be risen from the dead and now Ben’s going to summon the smoke monster because he has to be “judged.” I haven’t figured out what he did yet to warrant such seemingly grave judgement, but I wouldn’t be surprised if it had something to do with aliens.

I haven’t been this excited about tuning in to stupid since the whole exiles-from-the-planet-Zeist crap in Highlander II. This is going to be fun.

What’s With The Woody Over Keeping The Coyotes In Phoenix?

And the Deluded Git of the Week award goes to…

Deputy Commissioner William Daly told Reuters Television the NHL thinks the Phoenix market can support an NHL franchise.

*Cough*

With bids for the Phoenix Coyotes due in an Arizona bankruptcy court today, the club has revealed it lost more than $60-million (all currency U.S.) last season.

Documents filed in court show the club’s hockey operations posted a $27.1-million loss for the year ended June 30. Hockey revenue, which came largely from ticket sales, totalled $58.3-million, about $7-million less than the club expected.

The net loss, which included interest payments and other costs, was $67.1-million, according to the filing.

Keep moving. Nothing to see here…

*Cough* again.

~Emily Beezwax

Oh, Yes They Do

One of the things I remember being impressed by during the 2008 Stanley Cup Finals was the number of guys that were playing for Detroit that year who were on the 1997 Red Wings team that won the city its first Stanley Cup in forty-seven years. I counted six guys at a glance; there could be more if I cared enough to look closer. The Anaheim Ducks currently only have eight guys on their roster that were a part of the team that won the Cup just two years ago. Such is the nature of professional sports, with trades and departures for better paying contracts or greener pastures. I gave up complaining about lack of loyalty a long time ago. The Red Wings are something of a modern exception to this.

That’s why when Detroit sports beat writer Helene St. James makes claims like “they [the Red Wings] don’t just discard veterans,” she is right, but only to a point. I know I’m referring to the transcript of an informal, open chat, but if you’re going to assert “they don’t discard veterans,” you probably shouldn’t do so shortly before you mention the discarding of a few veterans without an ounce of ceremony or sentiment. The thing is, no team “discards” veterans who are still useful within their system. This isn’t something special or unique to the Red Wings. There are a lot of things that make that team a stand out in the NHL, but keeping older guys that still play well isn’t one of them.

It’s easy to boast that you keep your veterans around when you’re talking about guys like Kris Draper and Nick Lidstrom. But go tell Chris Chelios, Aaron Downey and Darren McCarty that Detroit’s hockey team doesn’t just discard veterans. They might beg to differ.

~Emily Beezwax

Confessions of a Foode Snobbe

I admit it. I’m a snob when it comes to food. I don’t look down on people who don’t like cooking or enjoy their Nachos Bell Grande or what not. To each their own. But with rare exceptions, I’m a all-from-scratch kind of gal who shuns packaged or pre-made frozen foods like they could give me butt cancer. Cooking is a very relaxing and fun thing for me and the more people to feed, the better.

Food is a hard subject to write about without coming off like a stuck-up douche. I’ve tried and tried in the past and given up because everything seems to come out like elitist twattery. Some foodies really look down their noses at people who don’t share their hobby and I never want to be one of those a-holes.

Okay, that being said, will somebody please explain to me how in the fucking fuckity fucks Sandra Lee has not only her own cooking show on the Food Network, but appears to be amassing a Martha Stewart-like dynasty with published cook books and her own magazine? Her recipes are shit, if you can even call them recipes at all. Take this macaroni and cheese “recipe,” for instance. It’s a box of Kraft macaroni and cheese with some Lawry’s seasoning and a little extra cheese added in.

Again, nothing against Kraft macaroni and cheese. I even buy a box once or twice a year and throw in some cut-up hot dogs because it reminds me of being a kid. But for heaven’s sake, if you have your own cooking show, shouldn’t you actually know how to…cook? Besides, nobody that’s interested in cooking doesn’t know how to spice up generic foods on their own. I don’t need Lee’s advice on how to make mac and cheese taste like something more than powdered elbow noodles. Nobody that knows even the slightest bit about cooking does.

What next? Alerting her viewers that too much salt can ruin a recipe? Explaining how to work a pepper grinder and how to peel garlic. Oh, right. She wouldn’t do that. She buys her garlic in a can.

Her recipe for marinara sauce? Store-bought Newman’s Own with some garlic and red wine thrown in. I get it. Some people don’t have the time or energy to make meals from scratch all the time. Every now and then, you’re in a hurry and have to eat on the fly. Jarred sauce is just fine for those occasions. But it doesn’t belong on a cooking show, something people watch because they want ideas for recipes, not instructions on what kind of canned vegetables and factory sauce they should buy at the market to warm up in the microwave along with their Marie Calendar’s TV dinner. It’s not cooking. It’s a friggin’ shopping list. That’s it. Nothing to learn or anything new to try. It’s beyond useless and stupid and is a waste of television air time.

Sandra Lee’s Recipe of the Week

Tater Tots

Ingredients:
One bag of frozen Idaho Spuds Tater Tots
Salt to taste
Ketchup for dipping (recipe follows)

Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Arrange tots on a lightly greased baking sheet in a single layer. Cook for 20 minutes or until golden. Remove from oven and then put your head inside until you die for needing somebody to tell you how to do this.

Ketchup

One bottle Del Monte Ketchup

Surviving Atlas Shrugged

I know some of you younguns out there, at some point in your scholastic careers, are going to have a fucking idiot of a teacher that thinks it is important for you to read Atlas Shrugged by Ayn Rand. It won’t be. Trust me. That is why, like the men of yore who stared into the face of cannons so their sons would not have to, I am offering the following to help you survive the experience without wanting to climb a belltower with automatic weapons and take out your classmates in a hail of bullets.

*First of all, once you get to the 200th page, stop. You have read everything Rand will write in the 800 pages that follow. All she does is repeat the same stupid ideas over and over, as if her self-perceived “philosophy,” which is really nothing more than a sophomoric attempt at pseudo-intellectualism, were so complicated and difficult for us plebes to grasp that she must explain it to us repeatedly in excruciating detail. As a rule, when people use 1000 pages to say what they can in a quarter as many, it’s usually to disguise the fact that they’re pulling it all out of their ass. They are rarely offering little more than common sense packaged with fifty-cent words.

*Everything you need to know about the “philosophy” of Objectivism can be learned from skimming the Wikipedia entry. Whenever you’re not sure, take the principles I’ve outlined below and reduce them in application to the simplest form of black-and-white scenarios imaginable. Remember to exclude any real-life variables that may conflict with your conclusions. This is fiction, so you can do that.

Virtuous
Total self-interest and disregard for the needs of others.
The pursuit of personal wealth and gain, no matter who may be harmed or alienated by it.
Complete distrust of any forms of government.
Contempt for the meek, needy and poor.
Disbelief in any power, religious or otherwise, higher than yourself.

Immoral
Charity, compassion and altruism.
Any person not generating wealth or practical commodities. I’m lookin’ at you, you useless art fags!.
Government of any kind, especially one that provides for the needs of its citizens. If the sick and hungry cannot fend for themselves, it’s better to let the leeching fuckers die.
Publicly funded art of any kind. Again with the damn art fags!

These are just a few examples to help illustrate the underlying tenets of Objectivism that will help you pass the test about Atlas without having to actually be tortured by the whole of it. Onward with the final portion of our study guide.

*The characters in this book do not speak to each other like normal people. They exchange bogus philosophical lectures between them. Imagine meeting with a friend for a cup of tea and casually saying “The evil of the world is made possible by nothing but the sanction you give it!” and your companion replying “Yes, yes! Happiness is that state of consciousness which proceeds from the achievement of one’s values!” Shit like that. Lucky for you, they are also utterly and indefensibly one-dimensional, so it’s not like you’ll have to pick them apart like it’s Pride and Prejudice or anything. As with the “philosophy,” reduction to the simplest principles, motivations, thoughts and actions will always serve you well when you’re in doubt.

Finally, remember that in no point during your lifetime will the contents of this book be useful to you. It will not nourish your soul as does literature or provide you with practical approaches for everyday life. It will not help you become a reflective, thoughtful individual or arm you with witty anecdotes to drop at parties (unless they’re Libertarian parties, in which case, all hope for you is lost already). Don’t feel bad about skipping it. In the truest words of Dorothy Parker upon reviewing the hideous beast that is Atlas Shrugged, “This book should not be tossed aside lightly. It should be thrown with great force.”

~Emily Beezwax