George W Bush

A bit passe, I understand. But can a blog truly be a blog without at least one entry on George W Bush? Well, better late than never.

George W Bush will not be remembered as the worst president ever for one reason and one reason only: no one will be left alive to remember.

Thank you very much.

A poem: Prose hidden in pretentious line breaks (Because I Can)

When
the gentry deposed their
masters,
What

first

crossed their minds when they turned
...
and saw what they had risen from



to become masters of?

Supervisor Call

"Thanks for calling Comcast Cable, this is Morton speaking, how may I help you today?"

"I want to speak with your supervisor, RIGHT NOW!"

"Ok, I can certainly look into that for you; may I please start with your home phone number?"

"What business is that of yours? I asked for a fucking supervisor! GET ME ONE, NOW!!"

"Ok ma'am, I do apologize that you are having an issue with Comcast, may I place you on hold while I get my supervisor?"

"... what did you call me?"

"Ma'am?"

"No, just now, what did you just say to me?"

"May I place you on hold?"

"You called me a WHORE!!! How dare you speak to me like that young man! How DARE you call me a whore!"

"Ma'am, I'm sorry, but I didn't call you a ... uhhh ... well, I would never use that word. I'm sorry if you misheard me."

"Yes you did, you lying bastard! you called me a whore. You Comcast assholes are all the same! You have no respect - no respect at all!"

"May I place you on hold while I get my supervisor ma'am?"

To her husband "un-fucking-believable! He just called me a whore again!"

"No, I'm sorry ma'am, I really didn't. You have to believe me!"

"I've had it with you! Get your supervisor this instant!"

BEAT

"Thank you very much for holding ma'am, I'm Kent, a supervisor here at Comcast, you asked to speak with me?"

"Just one damn minute, you can talk to my husband!"

BEAT

"Hello?"

"Hello, sir. This is Kent speaking, how can I help you today?"

"Well first of all, I don't appreciate people calling my wife a whore!"

"I'm very sorry about that sir, I can assure you that we monitor and record every call for quality assurance purposes, and if a Comcast representative did indeed make inappropriate remarks, he will be reprimanded for it. I will open an investigation immediately."

Wife yelling in background "They're all a bunch of fucking drug pushers! I'll shoot every goddamned one of them!"

"Like I said sir, I will certainly look into whether inappropriate language was used by Morton during this call. In the meantime, is there something I can help you with?"

"Yeah, I've been getting crank calls, and I want them to stop!"

"I can certainly understand your frustration, sir. Have these calls been coming from Comcast?"

"What? No, no, crank calls from other people, I just want you to block them for me."

"Well sir, I'd be happy to help you with that, are we your local telephone provider?"

"Uhhh, well, I don't know. Doris! who's the phone company?"

"Bell South, idiot!"

"She says its Bell South, that's you right?"

"I'm afraid not, sir; Comcast does provide phone service but it appears that you have services with Bell South. Would you be interested in hearing about our digital phone service? For only one flat rate per month, you can call anywhere ..."

"No, not right now, we'll have to think about it."

"Very good sir, until then, I believe it would be in your best interest to contact Bell South and discuss your situation with them."

"Right."

"Is there anything else I can help you with in the meantime?"

"You're going to see about that whore business, right?"

"Absolutely, sir."

"Well, I guess that's about it, then."

"Very good sir, thank you for calling Comcast Cable, and you have a wonderful day!"

"Yeah, you too. Bye."

Back to Work

When I went to see about my job, I was completely unsurprised to find that I was still on the schedule, even after all these months. My floor supervisor came over and asked me to sign off on several hundred coaching tickets, 198 of which were concerned with my AWOL status. I signed each one with the same copy and pasted statement:

I will remember to call the toll-free sick line whenever I am going to miss or be late for a shift.

“Your stats are pretty low, uhhhh … what’s your id number again?”

“394748.”

He glances at his Palm Pilot, “Right, Morton, your stats are pretty low. I’m putting you on a Quality Improvement Plan (QIP), let’s work on your call time today, ok?”

“Ok.”

“Alright, get to the phones, I’ll be back to monitor later.”

Geez, not even progressive discipline? I was expecting at least a verbal warning. Gun nut Billy waves to me from the opposite desk. “Hey Mort, I’ve got another dumbass on the line, begging me for credit - can hardly speak English. Nya-myum-blam-blehmmmm! Learn to talk right, you dumb fuck!”

Good ol’ Billy.

Explaining my Absence

You don't care, but I disappeared for awhile. I walked through a fold in the spacetime continuum, and directly into 2006. What a crazy seven months! It seemed to happen in the blink of an eye.

Just my fucking luck. I travel seven measly months into the future instead of 20 years or a million years, or even backward to 1967 so that I can track down George Harrison, impress him with some trinket of knowledge and then we'd just hang out. We'd trip the light fantastic and I'd make him feel better by assuring him that he would end up being the coolest and most respected of the fab four in the future.

Sweeeet.

But no, I get here and find out that New Orleans is sunk, cowboys are running Canada and Dick Cheney shot a guy in the face! Why is it all so fucking funny?!? I can't stop laughing...