The Amazing Tbag

The Amazing TBag: well to start with lets just hear whats on your mind about the war in iraq this is an open blog so just let out what ever comes to mind first

You know, I am glad you didn't tell me your opinion first, because now I feel I can say whatever the hell I want.

The war in Iraq is a symptom of democracy and idealism in decay. What I mean to say is that those in charge are some of the angriest, amoral and apathetic leaders we have ever had (AAA).

Bush especially represents all that is wrong with the world: born wealthy, knowing only one sort of lifestyle, raised to see a world of endless bounty that should be taken at will. Like so many children of Western society, greed and vanity seem to be the impetus for Bush's decisions. He cloaks his actions with religious rhetoric and that dopey, straight-shootin cowboy schtick, but deep down inside he is very small and shallow man, concerned with social status, his family fortune, and doing big favors for his buddies so they'll like him. He is the epitome of an MBA graduate.

Like I said, Iraq is nothing more than a symptom of a societal disease. The world is slowly dying in many different ways, yet our leaders can do nothing but play an endless game of oil economics.

The greatest minds in the world should be dedicating their time and energy to projects that would make life better: sustainable energy, the cure for cancer, locomotion without pollution, that would be cool! Instead, we get more meaningless crap like Sugar Twin or those sporty mufflers that make your car sound like you haven't got a muffler.

What the hell was I talking about, Iraq? Fuck Iraq. Its just a big fucking sham.

Nazis invented breakdancing

Thanks to Dharmabum27 for the picture, who borrowed it from someone else, and so on and so forth back through the long hapharzard decade of silly pics on the Internet.

Haiku #911

America Weeps.
Tears rain from F/A-18s,
forcing empathy.

Reminders of my own insignificance (self pity in three flats)

So the newness has worn off, and I have grown all too accustomed to living in this brave new temporal plane. Dr. Forbes has me on some new meds, and the nightmares, daymares, and seizures have subsided somewhat.

Perhaps this would be a good time to take stock of my situation and decide on the next course of action:

My ex-girlfriend keeps writing and calling me, but since I live four days ahead of her, I can never take her back. She will never see the world like I see it. She will never see herself like I see her, as a boring, slightly nosy, and altogether smart-alecky prima donna with too much trustfund and too little ambition. Fuck you Diane, for the final time hopefully!

I was unable to take advantage of the winning lottery numbers in last weeks Super 7 jackpot. Dr. Forbes has patiently explained to me that if I send the numbers back to myself 4 days earlier, I might accidentally rupture my already tenuous hold on this spacetime eddy. Like a jet ski ramming through a roped off section of the beach, reserved for Mrs. Harper's grade 3 field trip, the thrill of the moment would be overshadowed by the horror of future consequences.

My supervisor is coming! Yikes!

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

"Cut my digical cable back on right now!"

"Did we cut it off, ma'am?"

"Yeah, you fuckers cut it off cause I ain't paid my bill, but I ain't received a bill yet! You cut it off, now cut it back on!"

"Ok, ma'am, I'd certainly be happy to take a look at your account for you, can I start with your home telephone number? ..."

Now it's next Wednesday

Just a quick update on my temporal situation, folks. It's next Wednesday and very little has changed. The Ducks-Oilers series rages on! I guess I told you things were fucked up and all Hell had broken loose in a previous post. My bad. Believe me that I would never intentionally lead anyone on like that! Ahem, now if you'll excuse me, I have work to do.

And yes, Diane! It has occurred to me that it might really be next Wednesday, and this whole writing to the past thing is all in my head! Fuck you! My method of temporal communication is both foolproof and logically sound.

You see, if I haven't posted a mesage yet, it can't possibly be there, but as soon as I write it and send it backward through the spacetime continuum, it appears on my blog both in the past and all points up to and including the present.

It is always the last posting on this blog and there are never any posts from the present that appear before that post. Therefore, everything appears in the right order and is never further along than four days ago.

That chill you just felt was the long, cold grip of logic strangling all arguments withing you, Diane.

Kyoto Message Board Snippet (4 days into the future!!)

Lipstick Liberal
Even Canada is having a hard time dealing with the Kyoto accord.

http://news.yahoo.com/s/afp/20060517/wl_canada_afp/canadapolitics_060517002543

offthegrid
Canada is having trouble with Kyoto because it procrastinated implementing real policy and now we have a bunch of Albertans running the country. (Your version of Texas, right down to the rodeos, oil, and general disdain toward the rest of the nation).

Lipstick Liberal
Canada CANT meet the obligation set by Kyoto not because the conservative minority government wishes to ignore Kyoto, its because YOU wont slow down on producing the pollution.

You must remember that your government is discussing a problem that YOU help create.


offthegrid
Oh, so its individual responsibility is it? That's very progressive of you.

Never mind forcing industry to curb emmissions, or implementing any kind of sound policy or strategy for reducing our consumption of oil over the next decades.

Its up to me to stop driving my car to work and take the bus instead! that'll solve everything!

Hey, here's an idea, I'll stop buying paper and wiping my arse and Irving will stop clear cutting the old-growth forest as well!

And my government isn't supposed to be DISCUSSING the problem. It's supposed to be honoring an international treaty that it signed in good faith almost ten years ago to reduce greenhouse gas emissions. Some shitty advertising campaign to reduce garbage (the infamous 1 ton challenge, which I am proud to say I accomplished - you should see my space age composting system!!!) isnt' the answer!

Bold moves, like expanding transit systems to make them worthwhile to use, mandatory composting and recycling (already done quite successfully in Nova Scotia), heavy enforcement of emmission controls in factories, this is what our government needs to do.

Take action! Lead by example! Raise the fucking bar!

More time travel, and warnings from the future!

Friends! It has happened again! This time I tripped over a loose shoelace and fell into Next Monday. My God! What has the world come to? There is death and destruction everywhere! With the help of a brilliant scientist named Roger Forbes, I have devised a way to transmit my posts back to the present. From now on, I will always be exactly 4 days ahead of you. Heed my advice and live, friends!

From what I can glean from the local newspapers, the first catastrophe will occur in ...

Oh, why bother? It's not like anyone reads this stupid blog, anyway. Fuck you, world - especially you, Diane.

Morton out.

What Dungeons & Dragons Character Am I?

I Am A: Chaotic Evil Half-Elf Cleric Fighter

Alignment:
Chaotic Evil characters are the most 'evil' people out there. They are willing to do anything to get ahead, and will kill anyone who stands in their way. A chaotic evil person sees no value in order and governments, and believes to the utmost in the tenant that 'Might Makes Right'.

Race:
Half-Elves are a cross between a human and an elf. They are smaller, like their elven ancestors, but have a much shorter lifespan. They are sometimes looked down upon as half-breeds, but this is rare. They have both the curious drive of humans and the patience of elves.

Primary Class:
Clerics are the voices of their God/desses on Earth. They perform the work of their deity, but this doesn't mean that they preach to a congregation all their lives. If their deity needs something done, they will do it, and can call upon that deity's power to accomplish their goals.

Secondary Class:
Fighters are the warriors. They use weapons to accomplish their goals. This isn't to say that they aren't intelligent, but that they do, in fact, believe that violence is frequently the answer.

Deity:
Talos is the Chaotic Evil god of storms, forest fires, earthquakes, tornadoes, and destruction in general. He is also known as the Destroyer. His followers fear him more than worship him, and they revel in the destructive fury of nature - while praying to be spared from its wrath. Talos's symbol is three lightning bolts, of different colors, coming from a central point.

Find out What D&D Character Are You?, courtesy of NeppyMan (e-mail)

My new Super Power

While gulping down my 12th extra-large triple-sugar coffee at work today, a queer feeling came over me. More specifically, the feeling came over my groinal area. I quickly excused myself to the lavatory and locked myself in the largest stall, the one reserved for the physically disabled. I unzipped, peeked inside and WHOA! My penis had shriveled to such a degree that it seemed to have retracted inside of me. My testes had done the same thing!

So that is my new super power. With enough coffee, I can make my genitals hide inside my body, thus rendering me impervious from kicks to the crotch.


I promise that I will only use this new-found power for the betterment of mankind. Try and kick me now, Diane, you sadistic fucking wench!

I Must Destroy You

Lemme level with you. The whole Mars thing was made up. Or perhaps Mars was an allegory for the United States of America. Communists everywhere have dreamed of destroying America as well. And as Jean-Francois Revel would have you believe, they soon will due to inevitable advantages.

But Revel forgets that they had Elvis - a true king - to compensate for all the shortcomings of those worthless bureaucrats in D.C. What did the Commies have to distract the plebs from the Kremlin? Military parades? Yawn.

My fantasy places Canada in the role of hero against the villainous Americans. I picture us as noble defenders of the great North, a shield against the horde below, who turning their hungry eyes to our untouched lands, meet only the points of our swords and the harrowing winds of Winter.

Alas, fantasy it will remain. We emulate their bullshit culture and sell our land, our power, ourselves to them for bargain basement prices. Our horde bows to Mammon as theirs does. Our lakes are dirtied, our forests raped, our oil burned. At least the commies wasted it all on themselves.

Are you angry because the Americans came, took everything of value and now give the orders, or are you angry because you are an American and you hate yourself for it? Imagine being Canadian and being angry about both.

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...

Stoned and Alone

Pot can wreak havoc on any healthy fear and turn it into a sickly and twisted paranoia. And there is no greater paranoia than that which comes from introspect. I am stoned and alone, and I am afraid.

Ants have Invaded my Bomb Shelter

Although I do not feel absolutely safe in returning to the outside
world, the recent invasion of killer ants has forced me to the surface.
Things seem calm, the air is filled with an unnerving serenity. I keep
looking over my shoulder for the coming menace. The ants, meanwhile,
are attacking my survival rations.

Message From My Bomb Shelter

I had a dream that an airliner crashed on my street. I'm spending the
day in here until I feel it is safe to come out.

Going Call Centre

Gun nut Billy explained to me that going call centre was much like going postal, except that you don't wait until you're fired to start mowing down coworkers, but rather you take the gun with you to work everyday and wait for the perfect moment.

Think of it as premeditated instead of passionate. If you work in an inbound campaign, you know that sooner or later some asshole is going to phone in and rake you over the coals because you can't give him account credit for $700 in ppv porn purchases which his family "as God-fearing Baptists, couldn't possibly have made."

Never mind that this asshole has a 16-year-old son with an unhealthy attitude toward sex because of his upbringing and who never leaves his room. It's just not possible, now where's that account credit!?!

You transfer them to escalations and then your floor supervisor yells at you because that will "ruin the team's First-Call Resolution (FCR) quota," and you think to yourself, "If I had a pistol in my lunch bag right now, everyone within my line of sight would die."

Going call centre, then, requires preparation and patience.

Join the war against Mars: an impassioned plea from T.T. Willerson.

People of the free world! The communists are planning on destroying Mars themselves! We can't let this insult to our own greatness happen! You can help by enlisting in the Global Space Army, a private, global organization that pledges itself to destroying Mars first!

We have decided to hire a campaign consultant to raise money for this exorbitant quest. You can help in the hiring of this consultant by donating to:

The Global Space Army Foundation
45s0, 15w30
c/o T.T. Willerson

No one will watch me blog.

Blog. a single player game.

Blog.

Death to Mars

Mars must be destroyed. It is for the greater good.