Synopsis: A duo of online enthusiasts and otherwise 'cybernauticioners' appear in a local chat room while surfing the web for tasty waves and stimulating conversation. Three years later, their email exchanges were found, placed on a Web site, and released to the public as 'The Dot.Doc Project'.
The two were never found, though the Web site mysteriously updates itself daily.
It's all just a Dot.Doc.......or is it? You decide.
Genre: Stupidity, Humility, Virility, and various other 'ilities'.
Ratings:
D, for dysfunctional
O, for ornery
T, for trots
. , for dot (duh)
D, for DICtion
O, for offensive
C, for catatonic
Cast: Siglo and Bon. The two couldn't be more different….
Siglo is the artiste. He prefers creativity to punctuation, formatting, structure, and any other restriction or attempt by Bon or any other governing entity to make him do anything he doesn't choose. City dweller. aka mulder, aka chicken.
Bon is the organized one who insists on neatness, punctuation and planning. Digs the burbs and the wide open plains. Suburbanite, perfect soccer-mom type. aka scully, aka cow.
Sidekicks to make fun of:
Barney: Need we say anything about
this lovable butcher of the English language? Perhaps the finest
example of a person
in dire need of any and all spell check and grammar check programs
available on the market. If you can fix Barney's mistakes your product
is worth more than gold. See more information below.
Taffy Man: Jowl slappin', wanna-be coworker of Bon. Resides in the cube next door. Often bursts out in mysterious and indescribable laughter for no apparent reason.
Bauhaus: Creative, mechanical super-genius, running away from reality with alcohol and general frivolity.
Release date: December 31, 1999. Y2K fix not available.
-------------------------------------------------------
THE BARNEY PRINCIPLE
An 'ism' is a word, phrase or sentence that constitutes a brutal misuse, mistreatment, mischaracterization, abuse, violation or betrayal of the English language. 'Isms' are derived from a number of different causes, including, but not limited to: poor grammar, spelling, sentence structure, and ignorance. In order to be listed as a known ism, an ism must be confirmed as a true ism, and not a mere typo. For the purposes of this analysis typos, though amusing, are not considered 'isms'. The 'isms' listed below are confirmed 'isms', not chance sightings, close encounters or otherwise unscientific and unexplainable phenomenon.
A Barneyism is an abuse of the language unbeknownst to the subject under study (commonly referred to as Barney). Barneyisms are known to recur primarily in the written word, derived and extracted through a painstaking process of filtering through countless incendiary E-mail messages, or 'flames'. Some 'isms' cross the electronic chasm of evolution, or E barrier, and are further brought to life through the spoken word of aforementioned subject.
Said 'isms' are recognized, understood, translated, alphabetized, categorized, separated, sliced, diced, color coded and published by two special agents. These agents spend their time analyzing 'isms' so you won’t have to. The fruits of their labor are available to the public at no cost. The Determined Two are not paid for this valuable work. They volunteer. For the purposes of this documentation, The Two shall be referred to as Mulder (aka siglo) and Scully (aka bon).
Below is a list of their translations. This list is a mere guide to understanding Barneyisms. It is not an end-all, be-all solution, nor can it address, explain or contain every 'ism' in every situation. After years of analysis, some Barneyisms continue to baffle the experts, and are preserved in special cryo-containers in a known safe deposit box, carefully guarded and preserved by the Safe Deposit Police. Both Mulder and Scully remain optimistic that one day the mysteries of the untranslatable will some day emerge and be understood by all.
Please report all known barneyisms to the owners of this site by dropping them an e-mail at dot_doc@yahoo.com. There's safety in numbers.
CURRENT LIST OF KNOWN BARNEYISMS
Alphabetical listing:
accurel = accrue you're so accurel to me
a dam day long = all damn day long
Are the horseys do fine? = Are your horses
fine or How are your horses?
at = out
b/w = between cause your = because
of your
bumed out = bummed out
complelet = completely
conduent = conduit
dam = damn
divirce = divorce
errons = errands
fantizing = fantasizing
fatuated = infatuated (enfatuated
for scully, aka bon)
fin attic = fanatic
goner = gonner
grappy = crappy
halarious = hilarious
hirering = hiring
I got to have that = I want the freaking
job
infor = information
intiminated = intimidated
jisel = chisel
later = ladder
latter = ladder
manover = manouver
measuremt = measurement
orfer = order
offereing = offering
pance = pants
poll = pole (misuse)
prefere = prefer
prefering = preferring
programonto = program on to
purposely = purposefully
sale = sell (for sell = for sale)
sence = sense
since hardly nobody = because hardly anybody
skrewed = screwed
snotey = snotty
suppose to been = should be
supposenly = supposedly
toping = topping
un = in
unhealthyness = unhealthiness
vibs = vibes
wanted = wanted
wounder = wonder
"I like that you said that you would like to have a back rubber to rub..." UNTRANSLATABLE
-------------------------------------------------------
SPRING BULLETIN
This is a supplement to the Spring course guide, with
added course
offerings at Andrew Eldritch University.
-------------------------------------------------------
SOCIOLOGY DEPARTMENT
GTDD 238 "I'm So Gothic, I'm Dead"
This intermediate seminar covers the finer points of
Gothic style.
Topics include: complaining about the DJ, "How Much
Clevage Is Too
Much?", a debate on the advantages of liquid vs.
pencil
eyeliner,
"Achieving that Strung-Out Look: Are the Needle Tracks
Worth It?",
preferred accessories such as cigarettes, spikes, and
a
psychotic
ex-significant other, and how to behave like you've
been going to that
new club for years.
-------------------------------------------------------
PSYCHOLOGY DEPARTMENT
PSYD 122 Beginning Psychodrama
This is an introductory course. Students will learn
effective
techniques for creating psychodrama, including: making
mountains out
of molehills, appropriate uses of clinginess and
aloofness, and a
special seminar in The Breakup/Makeup Cycle: How to
Perpetuate
Mutually Destructive Relationships. Unlike most
beginning classes,
students are encouraged to repeat this class as much
as
possible.
IPRL 666 Interpersonal Relationships from Hell
Students in this course will learn advanced methods
for
making every
interpersonal relationship a constant agony.
Coursework
includes:
advanced experiments with pharmaceutical combinations
to see which
leads to the greatest psychological instability, "Get
out or I'm
calling the cops! I mean it this time!", and field
projects in
advanced defensiveness. Prerequisites: PSYD 122 and
ANTD 348.
-------------------------------------------------------
ECONOMICS
MOCH 228 Live Like A Millionaire on $2 a Day
This class will teach you how to live like royalty
when
you're dead
broke. Sections include: how to avoid paying your rent
for 6 months
without being evicted; the finer points of becoming a
kept man/woman;
how to turn an overnight crash space into your new
home; party
crashing, including how to make the host think he/she
has slept with
you; Fine Food For Free; and how to be guest listed at
the best clubs.
-------------------------------------------------------
CHEMISTRY
ANTD 348 Antidepressants: How To Render Them
Ineffective
In the first half of this course, students will learn
the various
effects of antidepressants, including but not limited
to Zoloft,
Prozac, and Lithium. The latter half of this course
will be dedicated
to intensive labwork combining them with other drugs
including alcohol,
methedrine, and Valium. A $50 lab fee is required to
pay for supplies.
-------------------------------------------------------
BIOLOGY
SEDE 222 Failed Suicide Attempts
This is a practical lab course on failed suicide
attempts. Students
will be taught various ugly but potentially non-fatal
methods of
attempted suicide. For the final, students will be
expected to make
their own failed suicide attempt. Extra credit will be
given for time
spent in intensive care; however, anyone who actually
dies will fail
the course.
-------------------------------------------------------
PHYSICAL EDUCATION
BASD 690 Overview of Seduction Techniques
This class provides an overview of several seduction
techniques.
Classes will be spent on techniques including but not
limited to: I'm
So Drunk, I'm So Innocent, and I'm Sleazy Yet
Charming. Couples
Looking to Seduce Others will also be covered, and
students will work
together in pairs on the Pincers Formation, also known
as the
"Storming the Beaches at Normandy" technique.
understand well the poetry and personal side of life, but then again i
think just about everything i pen is personal (personal bitch,
personal gripe, personal feeling, dispassionate mutterings, etc.), so
where does that lead a writer? where is the film director when he
or
she is shooting? a shooting party? i can't really separate
creation
from personal, whether emotion, intuition, knowledge, understanding,
whatever. you know? how can you say that anything you write
is pure
fiction? it isn't. the story may be, but the way you write,
the
details, the nuances, the method, the style, it's all you. every
bit.
and damnit, i don't buy it if someone says it's not in some way
autobiographical. all creation must be. god created the world
in his
own image. so be it with those that create works of art. i'd
like to
get into a LONG personal discussion with you on that subject, but my
stomach doth call me to the trough.
it's the story of a gigolo (not a sigolo,
a GIGolo). a man who approaches, courts & ultimately steals from
ladies (physically, emotionally, blah blah.) the women in the book
are all high powered, wealthy, and successful. one a lawyer; one
a politician; one a CEO of
an isp; one a proprietor of an art gallery;
and others not yet thought out. they will be geographically located
in different parts of the same city or metro area (maybe kansas city, since
i was born & raised here and tend to know a lot about the city).
the twist is how these
powerful and previously unconnected professionals
will join together to identify, understand and ultimately correct the problem
they all share. that twists i shall not reveal, because the concept
is not fully developed. but it will be interesting.
the book will open with the subject in his current situation. each chapter will be that of a separate woman, and each chapter will lead the reader on a journey inside the mind of a very manipulative and persuasive man. since i'd like this to be psychologically thrilling, as it were, perhaps i'll consult your barney to help with the twists. maybe he needs a disorder and a past that made him what he is today. we shall see. that is all undeveloped.
and yes, i actually agree with you ENTIRELY
on something. believe that? the idea that even fiction is a
compilation that utilizes the writer's experiences, and the like.
oh yes, that surely is the case. though the point i was trying to
make is that for me, poetry is THE
personal expression. fiction is
also personal expression, though it is masked, disguised and diluted (as
it were) and not so revealing as being ME. does that make more sense?
so i'm working on it. and there is much work to do. and these nails are so damned long that i'm making typos i'd otherwise never make. so you'll have to forgive me until i have a moment alone to file. no?
file away a dam day long. sounds
like a good concept and consulting
barney for perhaps the correct psychosis may be good, but having him
actually create the character in his mind would be disastrous, i'm
sure. as for this little pea brain, i have no suggestions.
you've
got it all worked out enough to get going. not sure whether you
should go forward or back and forth in time with each chapter. i
mean, you're in the mind of this dude, this stud, this man of mans,
who rapes and takes women for what he thinks they're worth (good,
good), and you're sort of describing his hang outs, his tricks, his
game, his habits (damnit, if you don't particulate the hell out of his
habits like an organized duck shooter, i'll fucking murder you to
death, kill, kill, kill), and you flow from each 'victim' (though
that's perhaps a bit debatable in the mind of my minolta) with each
new chapter (good, good). so do you connect them chronologically,
from
past to present, present to past, or scatter them where the chips may
fall? okay, i'll GIVE you a suggestion damnit. this is something
i
learned over the years (doing more work in 4 than most do a dam day
long), make sure that whatever moves or decisions you make as a writer
support the character's personality. so if he's organized, so is
the
structure of the book. if he's organized a particular way, with a
quirk thrown in for good measure, you might repeat that quirk in the
book's structure. is the story written in past tense, present tense,
future tense; does it shift from one to another with each chapter?
can the reader handle the complexity (probably not)? i always like to
see characters who have such great control over their lives (and
perhaps others) and something psychological rips them to shreds and
displaces their entire structure of being. i wrote a short in college
where this happened to a married man who lost his job, his wife, etc.
it was a terrible work really, but what i liked about it is that his
life revolved around normalcy and when it was taken away his mind
shifted to past tense and he became incredibly lazy and disorganized.
in the end there's a glimmer with his wife where things return to
present tense and the reader is given the impression (through some
method that is always criticized) that life falls into place when the
emotional center of his world is returned (i.e., his mind returns to
the present). i know, i told you about that one already, but my point
is that somehow the structure of the language and the correctness of
the story was shredded along with this person's character, in hopes
that the reader would sympathize more with the character. it's a
design thing. probably doesn't work for books, novels or stories.
bleh.
sleigh me, ray me, fay me. okay,
the brandon michael rolls of the wet
tongue (oh, baby) like a fucking choo choo train down the steel rail
of life, and i like it (i really do); BUT, and that's a big butt,
baby, i gots a problem with the michael being biblical to the nth
degree, so can it. brandon might work or as a middle name.
then
you've got brandon lee, the son of bruce lee, and he died and the name
has this negative, death-like connotation and the world just can't get
past it, so that's out the door <crash>. then there's billy bob,
bobby joe, etc. my point is (uh) women are much better at picking
men's names and men better at picking women names (they like anyway).
seductive, as in, hmmmm, say, felicia (happiness), ariel (ethereal),
octavia (the eighth), kerri (dark and mysterious), modesta (shy,
modest), and one man's name, brendan (a raven), a.k.a. brandon (which
you're already familiar with). bon = bonita, meaning pretty or
beautiful and that you already know about. so, go to the link and
do
some research. names are easy. find the meaning you want in
some
characters you think you could use (the bad person, the good person,
the mysterious one, the eighth character, the mean one, etc.) use the
search engine and awaaaaayyyy we go.
http://www.babynames.com/search.htm and you did it all on line, i'm
so proud of babushka.
okay, i like vaughn (small), but only in the correct spelling format.
of course, there's von, as in von slickster (uh). go film noir with
it and rent a buttload of film noir films from the 30's thru 50's and
run with it. hell, i dunno. beg, borrow, steal. lie,
cheat, steal.
most people i run into have such common (peasant) names, because
that's who we are. common folk (say that with a bit of the arkansas
twang, dear).
speaking of universal clothing sizes, catwoman, jantzen is working on
just such an endeavor, my dear, but don't count on the size to count
anytime soon. and this size will only work with their clothing line
apparently. sportswear gods that they are.
i think faith and god were created by man to begin with so if they
wanna believe in a something that is and of themselves (duh, can you
give me a reason to shout amen and worship me, a.k.a. yourself,
through a more irrational and dog-chasing-his-tail method than
this???), well, then, that's just okay with me, ya hear? now, say
it
with me. 'amen'.
let's not get started on this topic or we'll be chasin' tail and
sniffin' butt all our lives a dam day long.
hell, i don't know where the butt sniffing
a dam day long thing came
from, from left field, from hyperouterspace, from star wars, from
mars, from voyager 1 on that little gold record of a disc in the days
before they had the compact disc; as if aliens would just happen to
have an old turntable sitting in the corner collecting dust mites and
spider webs, waiting, waiting patiently for that oh, so precious
moment when the little earthlings have enough brain power to send them
a gold record ala k-tel and the mo-town hipsters take it to the top of
the billboard charts via casey casum, the man, the myth, the legend
who will not grow old and die like the rest of the world, which makes
him one of them and not us. that's where it must have come from,
dalink. comprende?
only the slap, slap, slapping sounds of jowls flapping together as only taffy man can deliver is worse than overhearing a female director's post-lunch [and obvious] rich food trots. and frankly, i've had enough of both a dam day long.
what do you SAY to a person after THAT type of display of emotion. jeezus. it's like i want to laugh. and cry. and scream. but no. instead i must make "small talk" after the big display, and act as if i didn't hear anything at all, that it didn't happen, and make that oh-so-important eye contact commitment (non-verbal yet binding contract, with employment as consideration) that says i'll not repeat what i heard to another soul. that you foul me out to the worst degree, but since you can fire me i'll forget it all together. so help me gawd, or mama telco may just strike me dead and unemployed.
so we're working with a company called unitel. and i sincerely hope we built in good intellectual property protection into that contract, because today we receive a cute little taco bell chihuahua in the mail, which unitel obviously got from the nearest taco hell, unstitched the stitching, replaced the recording with (and i'll apologize in advance for butchering the spelling, but this is the guess, and don't even ATTEMPT to make an ism out of it or i'll murder you) "yo quiero un-i-tel" as opposed to what you see in the commercial.
cute, yet irritating. if i was taco bell i'd slap a trademark & copyright infringement suit on them so fast their collective corporate head would spin.
but i am not. so i will not.
it's been a long day. and week. but at least the phone is under my control. amazing the peacefulness you can achieve when you rip the fucker out of the wall. i highly recommend it.
i ordered call notes at home (box for myself, plus my family, dig?) and the family--being the technology laggards that they are and probably always will be--are rebelling because of a mere dial-in and password necessary to pull off messages.
let's run away, siglo. take all our devices, electronics, modems, passwords, printers, stereos, speakers, and gadgets and just GO. somewhere with good power sources, of course. the place would be wired like no other!
I LOVE IT. great idea. run
away, run away run away, somewhere in
there there's a song, but i can't remember it for the life of me.
ah, yes, the rebellion against technology. the rebels will not
outlive the power of the imperial force with our death star and
technological innovation. of course, technology can kill humanity,
but let us join the robots (you MUST watch that show i told you about).
throw that little dog on the next day air bin direct to taco bell,
kfc, pepsi headquarters (yes, all of them, and don't forget lay's too)
and let them play with it for fun. send the name and recipient of
the
receiver as your contact in the company. bored? want some fun?
drop
the dog in the box and watch their heads spin round and around.
maytag couldn't do a better commercial.
sure it'll pass. downsize, lay off,
get laid, relax, sell and buy,
KISS and a host of other activities. you deserve a break today.
but
don't go to mcdonald's lest ye be infected with the trotsky virus.
antibiotics may work, but he could have kidney failure if the
infection is bad and he doesn't eat or drink (dehydration), so the vet
will most likely want to do a blood test, etc. i don't like it when
pussy's don't do fine.
Plastic explosives. That's what's
on my mind, that and a lot of other
things terrorists utilize to subvert normalcy and scare the hell out of
the general populous. From airlines to high-rise buildings, these
brainwashed victims of someone else's war on humanity, guised as the
political "agenda" of numerous factions, railroad us all into vigilant
states of paranoia. It's as if society weren't paranoid enough.
It's
not as if a single one of us feels any great compulsion to get up and
greet the day with anything but the most fantastic of expressions
plastered to our face. Admit it, we all do it. We get up and
face the
daily routine like cattle lead to the slaughter. Some of us can't
even
go to the grocery store, or drop off the mail without spending hours
pruning over ourselves in front of the mirror of horrors.
Miserable people. Only satisfied when their wretchedness is cast upon those with courage enough to cross their path. It's pure routine for these types to be difficult, insulting, belligerent, sarcastic in one mere hour. Not to mention an entire week. A month. A year. For it never ends, this misery. Oh it may start off small, but builds with the speed and awesome power of a snowball rolling down a snow-covered mountain after a four day blizzard. Ah, but don't we all know somebody who fits this description? Pure evil, these daemons. Devils disguised as friends, relatives, and domestic law ambulance-chasing, bottom-dwelling plaintiff's attorneys. Go ahead. Try to run, hide, avert, avoid. Though in the end, you'll not escape their massive reach, for they surround you much like the air you breathe. They hunt you like the scared little rabbit you are. So hop along through the forest you call your life, little bunny foo-foo. Keep smiling and remind yourself that since your path seems smooth, there must be no traps.
yeah, cause then they make you reinstall
it as if you were feeding a
sickened ulcer, burning at the sides of your stomach lining. they're
giving your systems the clean and wet enema, only to leave you starving
for more. it's the binge and purge technique all over again.
you
know i've been thinking (fear not), i should cut and paste a bunch of
stuff together for you to ponder.
as for the bathing routine, i take a bath
(love baths, but this is
gonna get old). i fill the tub up the night before, let it cool off
and then fill the remainder with scalding water. fucking crazy.
of
course, while i'm off of work i can bathe whenever i please. this
man
isn't in a race to appeal to anyone at this point in his life. so
i
brush my teeth, plant a hat on my head and forge ahead into the public
domain.
today i went to the post office and starbuck's and neither one of
those schmucks wanted to change a fifty. "look, missie, this here
is
legal tender, i ain't got no stinkin' hamilton in my pocket and you
can take the green and go runnin' off to your supervisor to get more
green for future customers after i leave". they make it sound so
complicated.
"oh, my god, i'm going to run out of bills to change people with.
call 9-1-1, quick".
"do your job, give me the goods and let me get the puck out of here,
baby".
of course, this here is a direct representation of fantasy. any
attempts to create characters based wholly or partially on real life
is purely incidental.
then, last night i have a dream that i have a car accident. all in slow motion, mind you. i'm alone and driving in the jeep, when i see this obstacle attached to maybe an 18 wheeler, i'm not sure, and the thing is headed for my windshield, and it's all happening very slow, and i'm just seconds from decapitation when i duck down, it breaks the window, and makes my jeep look somewhat convertible, just barely missing my head. so i get a ride to wherever the man is, and i've got mascara smeared all over my face, i'm a wreck, and scared to death. so he "attempts" to comfort me, assuming the story is exaggerated and i'm overreacting. and then, a roll back tow truck comes with my jeep in parts on it. and then everybody believes me, and out of nowhere comes all this sympathy.
how else would you have a dream about a car accident? it MUST be
in
slo-mo, or it's not real. i mean, come on, you've seen the films
with
the dummies. and you wanna go on tellin' ME advertising doesn't work.
they sure as hell implanted YOUR memory, now didn't they? your new
job: test dummy (you could learn a lot from a dummy). if you should
choose to NOT tip the bitches, you suffer the consequences of the
action beforehand. it's all a premonition, baby. don't delay
that
tip next time, the sonic goddesses will get you, my pretty.
point by point. first of all, i'm
worth WELL over $200 a night OR weekend. service level agreements
(SLA's) are a part of mama telco's business--can't do any product a dam
day long without them. my comment to you was that you should have
purchased the plan, baby, and
maybe i'd be required to write you more,
but no. now who's laughing?
point two is easily disputed with pure
(siglo) logic. do mcdonald's,
burger king, et al, SEND teenagers to your car? no, you drive up
to
them or you walk to them inside (if you can STAND the environment).
at sonic, they come to you, they greet you, and they do it rain, sleet
or snow, baby, so you TIP them. and, no, the post office freaks,
don't get tipped. they fucking raise the price of postage more times
per decade than congress hands its lilly ass raises, so they get
NOTHING, you hear me? YOU call your local sonics and you ask the
bitches with 'tude whether or not tips are expected. answer will
be,
"duh". no, it's not in the corporate plan, but for god's sake, woman,
use common sense.
i think we should go into business. you and me. screw the internet radio talk show.....and the books we'll never write.....i want to be the proprietor of a gallery now. you can be an artist and i'll showcase your numerous exhibits in my gallery. all i require is a small loan for a couple mill, an abandoned warehouse with a loft that i would live in, a construction crew, you know, little stuff like that. i'd spend my time searching for the perfect works by which to stock my gallery. i'd booze....schmooze....whore (as necessary) to get what i wanted in my gallery.
as if you could assume any creation i might conjure would be
worthy of a gallery. such a dream. of course, i know people.
not
many, but people.
a gallery. dear, where to you come up with these fantasies?
where did i get such an idea? FROM
THE GALLERY. duh. it's like this. have you ever walked
into a situation (any type, really) so fascinating, magnificent, wounderful,
desirable, etc. that you can see yourself doing the same thing....given
the proper circumstances and
money, of course. well that's what
happened to me. i spoke with brenda (the proprietor) at length about
how she got started, was she an artist, etc. negative.
just a head for business, a husband who agreed, a fat enough wallet to
purchase and renovate the place outright, and a vision of the greatness
of a gallery in such a place.
had a minor incident with a coyote last
night. really scared me. i put some burgers on the grill on
the deck, and wylie coyote was parked just under the deck. i heard
this fluttering, so i'm hanging off the deck looking around trying to see
what's making such a noise and mr.
coyote runs out from under the deck making
a really loud sound on the iced over snow. about this time my heart
is pounding so hard and i'm pretty scared, and this guy stops and engages
me in a staredown. can you believe that? so i get on the phone
(still in the eyes of the evil one) and the man is just pulling in the
driveway, so he drives around to the back and my coyote runs off.
i was telling the man how big this guy is, and he was like yea right, i've
seen coyotes out here and they are not all that big. THEN he finds
the paw prints and realizes why i was frightened. this was a pretty
big one. i'd guess 60 pounds, but who knows. anyway......couldn't
sleep well, had 4 horsey do fines outside, worrying that a hungry hamburger
stealing coyote might harass the troops.
stop love. yeah, that works. that's my motto for 99.
no more love.
no more stops. no more. telegram sam i am, green eggs and ham.
hell, i don't know what i'm talking about and you certainly know that.
wilie must have been bigger than 60 pounds. that's a paltry coyote.
stop the love tour 99. yeah, uh, like my last message eluded (though
i know how you like everything all clearly spelled out for you so you
don't have to work, read between the lines or perhaps think) to
prince's 1999 crap (fuck the artist shit. the a dam day long release
was made when he was prince, so he can shove it). stop the radio,
kill the airwaves, houston has a problem. wouldn't surprise me that
a
major blow-hard, put 'em up whet whet whet, corporate
communications/broadcast company owns both frequencies, kenneth.
think of the control over the media, over advertising, over the every
day things you and i buy. what power. assholes.
whoring and scoring is the way of the future. my new motto for 99.
you got your
resolutions. i got my motto. and besides, it makes me laugh.
so for
you'll have to put up with my converting anything and everything
to an opportunity to score.
the 'hoo is whoring a dam day long. apparently the 'hoo is preoccupied with watching its stock rise (up 46 and some change today) and less concerned with its response times. uh....i'm sick to death of waiting for this screen, that screen, and my address book (not to appear, mind you, it appears well enough it just refuses to freaking WORK).
my name is barney and i was once bumed
out. you see, i was supposenly
supposen to run some errons when i ran
into a babe and became fatuated
she and i are like conduent. then
i got layed off by some assholes.
i lost my job and the ability to climb
the corporate latter. i was a
goner a dam day long. so you see,
i hope your horseys do fine.
all right, so i get in the mister 2 and i'm dying to play this here cd
i
don't think i've played before (a cd-r) and i get 'err-1' flashed
across the display, so i'm forced to listen to the lazer (thank
lawrence of vaguely decent radio) and 90.1 for some cool sax'n jazz
tunes on the way in, behind a fleet of morons scoopin' up i-35 grime
and displacing it directly to my windscreen at every opportunity.
bastards. just because northbound traffic is crawlin' at a snail's
pace doesn't mean you have to. somehow, somewhere i ran into this
site (as in web) that has narratives about problems encountered on the
freeway, with pictures even, and it isn't even funny. if they can
get
away with it, why can't i?
you KNOW it's going to be a great day when
you arrive at work, jump into your daily routine, and as you're about to
begin your 10:00 morning tinkle, the person in the stall next to you loses
all control and all HELL breaks loose and you are subjected to that ole
familiar
sound. The Morning Trot Medley.
god, i'd hate for a case of the trotskies to ruin your morning P.
i
mean, really, what are these people thinkink? at least you don't
have
to whip your P out in a sports stadium trough, watching others scratch
at their balls, straining to get their P out, as if they had kidney
stones, and shaking it off as if their P were constipated and couldn't
decide whether or not to give up the P into the porcelain fountain.
recall, recall, hmmm, let's see....i think it was something about
peeing next to shitters who had the trots and the trough stories of
hasn't received that little tid-bit before, so i'm glad it has placed
you in an entertained mood. nothing much up, talking with this
customer, that customer, e-mailing, writing letters, following up on
and closing files that need to be removed from MY file drawer and
placed in the file drawer of death (re: click of death, an iomega
nightmare). speaking of which, i wrote those sorry-ass bastards,
or
"click to death until it can no more" jaz drive, and i receive the
ubiquitous "we're only replacing zip drives with that problem and not
jaz drives", inequitable response from corporate hell ("well, my
little prissy, i've got some NEWS for you and your CEO schmuck, david
hellier, you're replacing them worldwide and NOT in america, so how's
that for a nice and tidy e-mail right back at your sorry ass policy,
hmmmmm?"). so mister hellier has been written and the news boys at
alt.iomega.jaz have been informed. i'll hear from them in two weeks
and see their replacements upon my door soon. fucking gotta make
me
do this shit the HARD way. bastards.
ooohhh, he [Barney] said he won't be able to e-mail me "all day long" not
the
ubiquitous "a dam day long". red alert, red alert. we have
go for
brain, houston.
thanks for the kind words. yea, nothing
like a shot in the ass of i don't know what by a nurse who careth not.
the drug of choice is biaxin. makes for an interesting effect when
mixed with motrin. ENERGY, MAN. i had to peel myself off the
freaking ceiling, i was so
wired, WOO HOO. i worked (the god's
honest truth) from 7:00 this a.m. until 4:00 (straight through, no lunch
break) and got more done in.....well, you know the line. my office
was freaking out on the now i'm back in that downward spiral a dam day
long. damn the luck.
if you get the chance, ask rick what the
deal is with mixing biaxin & motrin. like i said, the effect
is just unbelievable. the combination of the two also produced incredible
clarity of thought. until 4:00, and it all started falling apart.
i'm just curious what's happening. and yes, i'm super sensitive to
drugs (which is why i'll never try any REAL drugs).
shop for clothes on line a dam day long. oh, i know, you can't try
them on, so perhaps limit the socks, panties, underwear type things
and all to the on line shopping experience, but it makes for less of a
nerve wracking, nail biting, teen-shopping till you drop in the mall
of doom experience, no? just do it. so you get 20% of your
stuff out
of the way, thereby saving time, using your on line prowess (le row,
row), your savvy business-like way in a sexy, new display of come and
get the goods. quick, convenient, painless.
you give an oral presentation? oh, my. i didn't think you did
such
things, err, well, the semen and all. but now you know it tastes
good
and is good for your complexion, so the man is doing you a favor.
i HATE the fucking pharmaceutical business. i HATE the insurance companies. and you think bill gates runs the biggest monopoly. puh-lease. and this little machine kills the m.s. virus dead in its tracks. yet it cannot be approved in the states. WILL NOT is more like it. with all the do-gooders and all the causes out there, it just seems that 20/20 or barbara wa-wa would find out about such things and challenge the monopolies that fight to keep treatments that WORK from being legalized and approved. why? because doctors and drug makers don't make money is people are well. they like us sick. they make a LIVING because we are sick.
pharmaceuticals are big business. big business runs america.
corporations run the media and the government to a great extent.
some
reporting of alternative medicine is done, but not in the light you
speak of, to push it forward and offer strong criticism of the health
industry. why? how many advertisers would remove their sponsorship
of the networks if such were done? you think some producer and jo-blo
news magazine is going to blow the whistle (just put your lips
together and blow)? hell no. as you say, 'won't happen'.
not a snow
ball's chance in hell. the FDA will not approve alternative medicine
because of it's unscientific nature. if it works, use it, especially
where all else fails and that should be the health policy: when all
else fails, alternative, experimental and unscientific treatments may
be used with consent and the insurer must pay in full all treatments
necessary. if i were president, that's the line i'd win on.
the
insurance companies are con artists, plain and simple. most never
pay
off anyway, and when they do they fight you tooth and nail for every
penny. one guy told me a story about how some insurance companies
set
their vehicle damage claims. let's say you have a car and you want
original equipment to be installed on it after a wreck, or whatever
(like my windshield event for example). you call your company and
you
do the hoops. they tell you it's this much or that much, blah, blah.
what they're most likely quoting is aftermarket parts. 90% of anyone
out there doesn't have a clue what that means, so they get away with
it, lock, stock and barrel, baby. so, li'l ol' mites like myself
request OEM parts for the car and the insurance company bitches up a
brew (not mine, but most). this guy was stunned that my company
didn't so much as blink when i requested OEM for my car. he said
most
insurance companies set the 'move it over to aftermarket' cost at $1
beyond the cost of original equipment, effectively mandating
aftermarket parts for every car out there on a repair job. should
the
bumper or whatever cost $1 more than original equipment, they specify
and use aftermarket parts, unbeknownst to their client who pays them
through the nose, year in year out. your hubby's in the biz, you
ask
him. now you and i pay for insurance at the rate of one a day, and
it
just pisses me off to no end that they get away with this kind of
bullshit, so you wanna talk drugs or car parts, baby, it's the same
scam. you think we'll ever get our story out? not likely.
how was the phantom menace, or do you mean
you were just going to
visit the little kfc or yo quiero store? perhaps some pizza slut?
i've heard it's great on effects, but not much on plot. oh, so wise
one (oh-be-bonn) i have neglected my hothothotmail account in favor of
the yahoo whore most of today, so i'm just now returnink (new one,
good one, new, good, delicious), your prose (aka prozac). i'm in
dam
day long good spirits, though i'm busier than the 4 in 8 man. finally
got a bit of a moment to rest this p.m. barney wants to sell, kate
wants to go out to dinner for her birthday, happy happy joy joy.
where will it end? truman show, joy division, you do the math.
what's your line anyway?
bullshit ba ba? uh isn't it a bachelor
of science OR a bachelor of
arts (or as in my case, a bachelor of architecture), my dear; OR are
you going through that double major (major tom) pain in a big and bad
way? capice (non word, damn why can't we learn the real spelling
of
that word?)? kaput.
kerplunk goes the trot. you can see the children's story now, can't
you? kerplunk spoke the trot to the icy water below. my mind
is
going, dave.