Here at Angry Daryl Is Angry, we have a fully documented and active suggestion policy. It is represented graphically below.
Thursday, December 29, 2011
Our suggestion policy....
By: Daryl
Here at Angry Daryl Is Angry, we have a fully documented and active suggestion policy. It is represented graphically below.
Here at Angry Daryl Is Angry, we have a fully documented and active suggestion policy. It is represented graphically below.
Wednesday, December 28, 2011
BEEP! Are you angry? BEEP! Are you angry? BEEP! Are you angry? BEEP! .....
By: April (for real!)
Human behavior on public transportation is a razor-thin line between "fascinating" and "annoying".
The newest participant is on my morning bus route. Male, mid-20s, nice business-casual clothing, with his favorite accessory: wrist-watch with alarm. Hey, Dick Tracy, is there a 1980s calculator option and LCD to go along with that fucking annoying alarm that you feel the need to have ring every FIVE FUCKING MINUTES?? Here's a clue: It's the same damn bus route EVERY morning!! AND this route manages to stay on schedule 95% of the time. Sacrifice a brain cell and set your pipsqueak alarm ONCE for closer to your favored bus stop. I so enjoy your masculine display of snoring, twitching, and drooling all along the merry way, but I will not miss that beeping that is now eternally ingrained in every human brain.
STFU.
Human behavior on public transportation is a razor-thin line between "fascinating" and "annoying".
The newest participant is on my morning bus route. Male, mid-20s, nice business-casual clothing, with his favorite accessory: wrist-watch with alarm. Hey, Dick Tracy, is there a 1980s calculator option and LCD to go along with that fucking annoying alarm that you feel the need to have ring every FIVE FUCKING MINUTES?? Here's a clue: It's the same damn bus route EVERY morning!! AND this route manages to stay on schedule 95% of the time. Sacrifice a brain cell and set your pipsqueak alarm ONCE for closer to your favored bus stop. I so enjoy your masculine display of snoring, twitching, and drooling all along the merry way, but I will not miss that beeping that is now eternally ingrained in every human brain.
STFU.
Tuesday, December 27, 2011
Forward, idiots. FORWARD!
By: Daryl
As 2011 comes to a close, it's been a great year at Angry Daryl Is Angry. Ted and I have....
::::BOOM OF A SHOTGUN BLAST::::
Oh Sweet White Baby Jesus in the Manger, how I LOATHE year-end retrospectives. I don't care where they come from: political campaigns, issue campaigns, websites, blogs, Jesus, Mohammed, Moses, Thor, Cthulhu, your mom, - I hate them.
They suck. Hard.
"But why, Angry Daryl? Why do they suck so hard? They make me feel so warm, and cozy, and sleepy, like a sleep over at Michael Jackson's house!"
Well, let me tell you. They suck because year end retrospectives are just a clever way of saying "WE DON'T HAVE ANYTHING NEW TO PRESENT TO YOU SO WE ARE GOING TO RECYCLE SOME OLD POOP AND PRESENT IT AS FRESH, STEAMING HOT NEW POOP. AREN'T YOU GLAD WE DID THAT IN YOUR MOUTH???"
And, just to cover all my bases, I'm not going to send out a breezy, sleazy, chirpy, slurpy "Look at all the shiny things we will do in your pants in 2012" email, either.
Why? BECAUSE THEY SUCK, TOO. And, it may also have to do with the fact that I have no idea what I will present to you in 2012. So there.
Good day, fuckers.
Monday, December 19, 2011
Creepy Kim Jong-il pictures......
Dictators make the best fertilizer. In the meantime, let us remember the North Korean dictator at his best: massaging giant cucumbers, and getting ready for some Russian mouth-love, courtesy of Vladimir "Not a KGB gangster at all" Putin.
Thursday, December 15, 2011
Mayhem and me
By guest blogger: April!
Another ghastly day of commuting to the office... Where do I start? Would it be the lady on the metro car, sharing her "melodious" singing voice with the rest of us AT 6:15AM? Or, the guy on the bus, snoring softly, just enough to make you notice?
But then the real fun starts AT the office!
Someone's breakfast consisting of greasy, heated, stinky potatoes. A temper-tantrum throwing programmer (thank God he's raising the next generation). The interminable meeting. More co-workers sharing their American Idol talents (seriously, whatever happened to solitary, silent enjoying of music?). More re-heated gaggy lunch leftovers.
Yeah, it's PMS week....SO FUCKING WHAT?!?!! But the topper of the day was the commute back.
It started with an agonizingly slow bus ride....
But, the piece-de-resistance whilst observing from my throne on the metro (outside rail, above ground) was the gentleman in the four door sedan that decided there was far, far too much space between him and the concrete barrier. I kid you not, at 60 miles per hour, the car eased into the concrete and was going so fast that the drivers side front and rear tires lifted off the pavement.
I cannot believe he didn't flip the car! I didn't notice any panicky movements, or sudden swerving. He just calmly started to decelerate. In my disbelief and horror, I realized there was nothing I could do as I was hurled over the metro tracks, trapped in my train-car.
And now, I raise my travel flask to the imbecile's of the day: To the smellies, to the snories, and to the crash-test dummies; Have a nice day.
Another ghastly day of commuting to the office... Where do I start? Would it be the lady on the metro car, sharing her "melodious" singing voice with the rest of us AT 6:15AM? Or, the guy on the bus, snoring softly, just enough to make you notice?
But then the real fun starts AT the office!
Someone's breakfast consisting of greasy, heated, stinky potatoes. A temper-tantrum throwing programmer (thank God he's raising the next generation). The interminable meeting. More co-workers sharing their American Idol talents (seriously, whatever happened to solitary, silent enjoying of music?). More re-heated gaggy lunch leftovers.
Yeah, it's PMS week....SO FUCKING WHAT?!?!! But the topper of the day was the commute back.
It started with an agonizingly slow bus ride....
But, the piece-de-resistance whilst observing from my throne on the metro (outside rail, above ground) was the gentleman in the four door sedan that decided there was far, far too much space between him and the concrete barrier. I kid you not, at 60 miles per hour, the car eased into the concrete and was going so fast that the drivers side front and rear tires lifted off the pavement.
I cannot believe he didn't flip the car! I didn't notice any panicky movements, or sudden swerving. He just calmly started to decelerate. In my disbelief and horror, I realized there was nothing I could do as I was hurled over the metro tracks, trapped in my train-car.
And now, I raise my travel flask to the imbecile's of the day: To the smellies, to the snories, and to the crash-test dummies; Have a nice day.
Angry Daryl is ThoughtCrime Angry. DoublePlusUnGood
By: Daryl "Winston" Northrop
So we should probably watch out for this. Just saying.
So we should probably watch out for this. Just saying.
Friday, December 9, 2011
Stupid work email's make me angry....
Inbox is at zero right now. Beautiful.
Monday, December 5, 2011
The embargo on Cuban anger is making me angry....
By: Daryl "Libertad para Cuba" Northrop
I had always been under the impression that you could bring back Cuban cigars from overseas if it was less than $100 worth.
But no. Our nanny-state government has forbidden it. Why? WHO THE HELL KNOWS. The stupid Cuban embargo enacted in the 1960's really hasn't seemed to do any damn good considering the rest of the world trades freely with Cuba! Apparently our foreign policy towards Cuba is "Spite, with stubborn thrown in for good measure."
So here is the import regulation. I weep.
"Can I import Cuban cigars into the U.S.?
I had always been under the impression that you could bring back Cuban cigars from overseas if it was less than $100 worth.
But no. Our nanny-state government has forbidden it. Why? WHO THE HELL KNOWS. The stupid Cuban embargo enacted in the 1960's really hasn't seemed to do any damn good considering the rest of the world trades freely with Cuba! Apparently our foreign policy towards Cuba is "Spite, with stubborn thrown in for good measure."
So here is the import regulation. I weep.
"Can I import Cuban cigars into the U.S.?
No. The allowance for bringing in up to $100 worth of Cuban cigars if you were on authorized travel to Cuba is no longer in effect. All importations of Cuban cigars are illegal, including Cuban cigars that were acquired in other countries (such as Canada, England, or Mexico).
There is now an across board ban on the importation into the United States of Cuban-origin cigars and other Cuban-origin tobacco products, as well as most other products of Cuban origin. This prohibition extends to such products acquired in Cuba, irrespective of whether a traveler is licensed by Office of Foreign Assets Control (OFAC) to engage in Cuban travel related transactions.
Criminal penalties for violation of the Regulations range up to $1,000,000 in fines for corporations, $250,000 for individuals and up to 10 years in prison. Civil penalties of up to $65,000 per violation may be imposed by OFAC.
Foreign residents and visitors to the U.S.(i.e., French, Mexican etc) may not bring in goods of Cuban origin under any circumstances."
Tuesday, November 29, 2011
Stupid advertising is the wave of the future!!!!
By: Daryl
If by "wave," you mean "giant splash from something falling in the toilet....from your buttocks." So apparently marketing and advertising firms can churn out steamers like the banner below and their clients love it!
Clearly, I should change jobs, I can churn out lines like the ones below all damn day. Now, don thy Cyber-Cod Piece and thrust off into battle against the Cyber Mongol Hordes of DOOM!
Just look at it! Holy Cyber-Balls, that's some fine advertising!
If by "wave," you mean "giant splash from something falling in the toilet....from your buttocks." So apparently marketing and advertising firms can churn out steamers like the banner below and their clients love it!
Clearly, I should change jobs, I can churn out lines like the ones below all damn day. Now, don thy Cyber-Cod Piece and thrust off into battle against the Cyber Mongol Hordes of DOOM!
Just look at it! Holy Cyber-Balls, that's some fine advertising!
Thursday, November 24, 2011
Angry Math, or, how 39 equals 75
By: Daryl
GET OFF MY LAWN YOU DAMN KIDS!!!!!
Which is Daryl? Which is Ted? Who knows? Have you gotten off my lawn yet?
Monday, I ran some errands that proved that 39 equals 75. Or, more specifically, as a 39 year old, I morphed into a 75 year old due to the nature of my errands. The errands were:
**Yes, I have a hearing aid in my left ear. Why? Because I have a hearing loss, dumbass.
GET OFF MY LAWN YOU DAMN KIDS!!!!!
Which is Daryl? Which is Ted? Who knows? Have you gotten off my lawn yet?
Monday, I ran some errands that proved that 39 equals 75. Or, more specifically, as a 39 year old, I morphed into a 75 year old due to the nature of my errands. The errands were:
- I went to the post office. Old people LOVE the post office. Why? Lord only knows. Ask a geezer yourself and report back to me.
- I mailed the complimentary calendar that I got with my Washington Post newspaper subscription. Yes, an actual paper-and-ink newspaper. Quaint, eh? And oh-so-retro! Fucking hipsters have nothing on me...
- And other errand was....drumroll please....I had to pick up fresh batteries for my hearing aid!**
What. The. Hell. I'm never running errands again.
Brainstorm! Perhaps I should switch to a non-electrical hearing aid. Do you think this is a good idea? What? I can't hear you. SPEAK THE HELL UP!
**Yes, I have a hearing aid in my left ear. Why? Because I have a hearing loss, dumbass.
Tuesday, November 22, 2011
Stick your office birthday/condolence/congrats cards up your paper tray...
By: Daryl
Have I mentioned how much I loathe the dreaded manila folder that contains some birthday/condolence/congrats card that gets passed to me to sign at least once a week? No? Not paying attention?
Well prepare yourself. Because I am about to do some mentioning.
Problem 1: Who has signed the card already? Why is this an issue? Well, half of the people who sign break out their 4th grade cursive, which makes their name look like a bunch of little ink marks shat out by a snail who was crawling across the card whilst suffering a severe case of diarrhea. Could we please just have a tick-sheet for people to mark off that they've signed? OMFG, that would be difficult!
Problem 2: If I'm the last person to sign, who does the card go back to? As near as I can tell, these cards materialize out of thin air a few desks away from me, and then are returned to the office-ether from whence they came after I pass it on to someone else. Mommy, Daddy, where do greeting cards come from? WHERE G-DDAMNIT? Because a post-it note with "Return to Becky in HR!!!!" is just not going to happen.
Monday, November 21, 2011
Not an actual blog post - just a teaser!
By: Daryl
Upcoming topics that you will read with enraptured interest - in no particular order:
1. Stop Scaring White People
2. Congress vs The Law vs You vs Soap On A Rope
3. 39 = 75, and I'll prove it to you
Wait patiently, or you won't get any pudding.
(oil)NATO(oil) priorities(oil) regarding(oil) the(oil) Arctic(oil). Also, oil.
Hey there reader-people! Good morning. BRING ME MOAR EFFING COFFEE RIGHT NOW! Ahem. Thank you. The following entry doesn't really make me angry, just bemusing.
Because I'm a nerd (and you are too, just admit it), I spent some time browsing the NATO public briefing library. Lots of good information regarding the changing situation in the Arctic. As we all know, the vast left wing conspiracy invented global warming as a way to clear ice from the Arctic ocean so we can all sail our yachts there. Or whatever. Anyhow, things are changing in Santa's neighborhood, and NATO has helpfully put together lots of presentations about it.
Take a look at the blog topic tags at the bottom. I know oil is important, you know, for lube production. I'm talking about for machinery.....what the hell were you thinking? Pervert. However, it seems whoever tagged these entries thought "if one "oil" is good, five more must be betterish!"
And they were right!
In other news, NATO has changed its name to the North Atlantic Treaty Oilganisation.
Blog tags: Oil, Oil, Oil, Oil, Oil, Oil, Oil, Oil, Oil, Oil, Oil, Oil, Oil, Oil, Oil, Oil, Oil, Oil, Oil, Oil, Oil, Oil, Oil, Oil, Oil, Oil, Oil, Oil, Oil, Oil, Oil, Oil, Oil, Oil, Oil, Oil, Oil, Oil, Oil, Oil, Oil, Oil, Oil, Oil, Oil, Oil,
and,
Oil.
Tuesday, November 15, 2011
Work anger is hard at work...
By Daryl
It's a "Here, let me do your fucking job for you" day here in Cubeville.
Friday, November 11, 2011
I am the flame, they are the moths. My anger will incinerate them...
By: Daryl
Lovely readers, I have a problem. People crowd around me, but not in a good way. You may find this hard to believe, but to-date, the Redskins cheerleaders have not clumped around me. Shocking, and kind of sad, isn't it?
I'll wait whilst you dry the tears from your eyes.
People crowd around me at the most inopportune times, such as:
1. When I want a moment of piece at the super market to check my tweets via the oh-so-smartphone. Generally, I try to stand out of the way, in front of little-sought after items, like organic rhino-balls. But, the moment I whip out my phone, EVERYONE MUST HAVE ORGANIC RHINO BALLS RIGHT THAT FUCKING INSTANT. "Oh, excuse me, let me move so as to not impede your need for the rhino testes." Fuck.
2. When I have to resolve a pressure imbalance between my colon and the rest of the world. Ok, Mr or Ms Science, yes, I'm talking about farting, trouser sneezing, a mini-methane-miasma if you will. Don't act like it doesn't happen to you, Captain Gasballs. Again, pardon me.....but as I move away, do try to determine the source of the rich, earthy aroma that envelopes you....
3. (my personal favorite) When I'm already boiling with rage and just cannot stand another moment of contact with humanity. Invariably, some worthless sack of mostly fluid decided to strike up a conversation with me, because I look nice. Do. Not. Be. Fooled. I am not nice. I just appear to be nice.
Note to self, time to wear a t-shirt at all times with the message: Approach With Caution.
Lovely readers, I have a problem. People crowd around me, but not in a good way. You may find this hard to believe, but to-date, the Redskins cheerleaders have not clumped around me. Shocking, and kind of sad, isn't it?
I'll wait whilst you dry the tears from your eyes.
People crowd around me at the most inopportune times, such as:
1. When I want a moment of piece at the super market to check my tweets via the oh-so-smartphone. Generally, I try to stand out of the way, in front of little-sought after items, like organic rhino-balls. But, the moment I whip out my phone, EVERYONE MUST HAVE ORGANIC RHINO BALLS RIGHT THAT FUCKING INSTANT. "Oh, excuse me, let me move so as to not impede your need for the rhino testes." Fuck.
2. When I have to resolve a pressure imbalance between my colon and the rest of the world. Ok, Mr or Ms Science, yes, I'm talking about farting, trouser sneezing, a mini-methane-miasma if you will. Don't act like it doesn't happen to you, Captain Gasballs. Again, pardon me.....but as I move away, do try to determine the source of the rich, earthy aroma that envelopes you....
3. (my personal favorite) When I'm already boiling with rage and just cannot stand another moment of contact with humanity. Invariably, some worthless sack of mostly fluid decided to strike up a conversation with me, because I look nice. Do. Not. Be. Fooled. I am not nice. I just appear to be nice.
Note to self, time to wear a t-shirt at all times with the message: Approach With Caution.
Wednesday, November 9, 2011
Tuesday, November 8, 2011
ALL VIRGINIA COMMONWEALTHERS (sounds like socialism to me) SHALL VOTE!
By: Daryl
Hey you. YES YOU!
Hi, lard-ass. It's election day. If you are here in the Peoples Republic Of Northern Virginia, it's going to be a beautiful day - sunny, mild, pleasant. Nothing is more pleasant the voting. Not even rubbing up against me on the subway, fucking perverts.
Of course, even if it was raining, that's no excuse not to vote.
Our revolutionary soldiers showed up to work in the rain....THE RAIN OF BRITISH BULLETS AND CANNON FIRE!
So, kindly get your sorry ass to a votertorium and do you duty. Please and thank you.
Monday, November 7, 2011
Angry Tech is Tech Support Angry
By: /Anonymous/ (for real! He, or she, did not want their real name used.)
I hate all of you cheap little fuckers who think that because I work
customer service or tech support, I'm incompetent or the bottom of the
food chain. Hear this articulate and confident voice? I'm not some
little 18 year-old spermicidal wanking goon. I actually have a clue
and can use it to save your ass.
Listen asshole, good psychoanalysis is expensive. Good psychoanalysis
on both your computer and you - because 3 chances out of 4 you made it
fucking nuts, friend - ain't any cheaper. Yeah, that's right, I said
you did it. Probably. No matter how often I might professionally say
that pushing the wrong button and making your email blow up doesn't
really happen, chances are you pushed a SERIES of wrong buttons and
got yourself into this pile of shit.
What do I mean? What's this Antivirus 2010? That's malicious. You
let it on your system because you didn't pay attention. Oh, and
Bearshare? Who the fuck still uses Bearshare? Do you like your aging
hookers with the clap and herpes too? And who the hell told you to
store 100 gigs of cat photos on your desktop?
Did you know that the bozos a few miles away over are charging $75 an
hour, and they don't know shit? Just because that little office
claims all their technicians are certified, doesn't mean they actually
know what they're doing. They're all recent recent grads at their
first full-time job and don't know jack. Once they do know, they're
out the door because they disagree with their cheapass boss and won't
take his shit any longer.
Those Geek Squad assembly line freaks are the dropouts, over-confident
kids & slicksters. They charge $100 an hour to basically piss on your
data while "cleaning up" your computer. They'd repost your webcam
porn in heartbeat if they notice your naughty little files. They slap
a "solution" into your computer and hammer the space bar a dozen times
while waiting for the other 6 machines they're also looking at to
prompt them to push a button. They don't care about you or the
pictures of your cat that died 2 months ago. The Geek Squad is around
only to sell you unnecessary crap and to insure that you're a repeat
customer not through great service, but through undetectable shitty
practices.
I'm going to give you far more love, respect and personal attention
than those misanthropic pieces of meat ever will. And for that,
you're going to look at me like I'm not fucking worth the money.
I'll actually sit down with you, ask you questions, and sincerely
figure out the problem without passing judgement, and then
spectacularly rescue only half your iTunes because you downloaded some
viral piece of garbage. And I'll spend half my time killing myself
for the other half of your Sinatra collection because no matter how
good I am, there always some Russian Mafia freakjob who's such a
shitty coder that he always kills the hostages, and so those files are
hopelessly scrambled.
Yeah. Don't believe me.
How's that Dell tech suport working out for ya?
And by all means, get your teenager to sort it out.
I hope someone shows up at your job tomorrow and says you're not worth
the money, asshole. Because they're probably right.
I hate all of you cheap little fuckers who think that because I work
customer service or tech support, I'm incompetent or the bottom of the
food chain. Hear this articulate and confident voice? I'm not some
little 18 year-old spermicidal wanking goon. I actually have a clue
and can use it to save your ass.
Listen asshole, good psychoanalysis is expensive. Good psychoanalysis
on both your computer and you - because 3 chances out of 4 you made it
fucking nuts, friend - ain't any cheaper. Yeah, that's right, I said
you did it. Probably. No matter how often I might professionally say
that pushing the wrong button and making your email blow up doesn't
really happen, chances are you pushed a SERIES of wrong buttons and
got yourself into this pile of shit.
What do I mean? What's this Antivirus 2010? That's malicious. You
let it on your system because you didn't pay attention. Oh, and
Bearshare? Who the fuck still uses Bearshare? Do you like your aging
hookers with the clap and herpes too? And who the hell told you to
store 100 gigs of cat photos on your desktop?
Did you know that the bozos a few miles away over are charging $75 an
hour, and they don't know shit? Just because that little office
claims all their technicians are certified, doesn't mean they actually
know what they're doing. They're all recent recent grads at their
first full-time job and don't know jack. Once they do know, they're
out the door because they disagree with their cheapass boss and won't
take his shit any longer.
Those Geek Squad assembly line freaks are the dropouts, over-confident
kids & slicksters. They charge $100 an hour to basically piss on your
data while "cleaning up" your computer. They'd repost your webcam
porn in heartbeat if they notice your naughty little files. They slap
a "solution" into your computer and hammer the space bar a dozen times
while waiting for the other 6 machines they're also looking at to
prompt them to push a button. They don't care about you or the
pictures of your cat that died 2 months ago. The Geek Squad is around
only to sell you unnecessary crap and to insure that you're a repeat
customer not through great service, but through undetectable shitty
practices.
I'm going to give you far more love, respect and personal attention
than those misanthropic pieces of meat ever will. And for that,
you're going to look at me like I'm not fucking worth the money.
I'll actually sit down with you, ask you questions, and sincerely
figure out the problem without passing judgement, and then
spectacularly rescue only half your iTunes because you downloaded some
viral piece of garbage. And I'll spend half my time killing myself
for the other half of your Sinatra collection because no matter how
good I am, there always some Russian Mafia freakjob who's such a
shitty coder that he always kills the hostages, and so those files are
hopelessly scrambled.
Yeah. Don't believe me.
How's that Dell tech suport working out for ya?
And by all means, get your teenager to sort it out.
I hope someone shows up at your job tomorrow and says you're not worth
the money, asshole. Because they're probably right.
Angryness of the day: product/service + bizarre advertising = PROFIT! YAY C(r)APITALISM!
Advertising is supposed to increase my desire and awareness about a product, service, or brand. However, ad designers do not seem to know this. Apparently, their goal is to confuse, alienate, or frighten me into buying their product or service.
Take the ad above. Now, I don't need reading glasses, as I have perfect 20/20 vision. Apparently, the rumored side-effects of all that teenage self-abuse were false, THANK GOD. Anyway, here is what I learned from the ad: If I use 'Zoom' brand reading glasses, I will be able to see well enough to solve my knock-off "Rubiks-esque" cube, and have a giant man-hand compress my chest cavity."
HOORAY! GIMME THEM SPECTACLES, MARTHA!
Sunday, November 6, 2011
Mrs. Daryl Is Angry!
(Editor's note: SQUEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!)
By: April
My fans (all 2-3 of 'em) have been demanding a guest post to "Angry Daryl". I've been trying to cultivate a more tolerable, nicer me (no laughing), but sometimes the irritation is too much to handle and needs to be purged. And you have to give your adoring public what they want:
For decades (yes, I'm old enough I can add that "S" at the end.....bite me) I have searched in vain for winter gloves that are both fashionable and warm. Doesn't fucking exist. I've tried it all, from the natural fibers (wool, suede/shearling, cashmere) to the synthetic material du jour (thinsulate, polar fleece, heat packets) - nothing works. These never-had-a-manicure hands remain blocks of ice through the Winter, no matter what climate I live in. Sure, some material may actually keep your hands warm (or too warm, thank you sweaty polar fleece....ew) but then the wind cuts right through and negates it all.
Holiday catalog season is upon us and I enjoy flipping through to see the NEWEST! LATEST AND GREATEST!!! products. Especially Hammacher Schlemmer. Because the rich will always have the $$ to support ridiculous shit such as:
The swiss watchmakers boite a musique at $25,300.00 Think I'm making this up?? Screw you. Look it up yourself.
But one product had me breathing heavy:
The heat-storing leather gloves
"...technology originally developed for NASA astronauts"....blah blah blah..."store heat in their microcapsule-insulated lining"....ohhhhh, baby...."soft Italian-finished nappa leather".......now we're talkin'!......"provide a snug fit at first, the leather will gently conform to the shape of your hands with wear"......a little to the left, please......$69.95 price tag - not unreasonable. Bring me on home, Big Daddy!!! ......"Women's style with palm vent"........WHAAAAAAAAAAAAT????!!!........Who just farted right before my happy ending???!!!
WTF do I want with a 'palm vent'? So I can remember how fucking cold it is outside??? Some clothing traditions CAN and should be discontinued. All that goodness ruined by a 1" slit. Bastards.
My hunt continues.
In the meantime, honey - would you go warm up the car, please?
Friday, November 4, 2011
Guest post: Angry Breanne is Angry at the TV!
By: Breanne
Greetings, all of Daryl’s fellow rage-a-holics! If you’re lucky enough to know me, you know that I speak very openly and crassly about my one-sided battle with depression. If you’re just meeting me for the first time, well, let me tell you – I speak very openly and crassly about my one-sided battle with depression (I say one-sided because I watch from the couch as it slowly takes over my life). But I know I’m not alone. Many people experience depression, a large majority being mothers, particularly first-time mothers. And do you know who is staying home with the children during the day? The mothers; especially first-time mothers. And do you know what they’re watching? The Doctors, and a variety of other daytime talk shows, soap operas, and news programs. I don’t know what depression is like for other people, but the topics I happened to run across on one such day of being a stay-at-home mom are of no help to anybody.
Growing up, I was only generally aware of the Today Show, just thinking it was perpetually on one channel. Now that I’m an adult, I know that it’s only a measly 5 hours, and I’m routinely up before it starts at 7am. I appreciate how they promote the crap out of the segments they have coming up, like they’re Uncle Leo with a death grip on your arm for fear you’d walk away. So, thanks to these hyper-ads I was routinely teased with a man who received multiple transplants – high risk, one-in-a-million of course – and was going to meet the donor family for the very first time. Are you fucking kidding me?! Not only am I depressed, I’m also slightly groggy and a little pissed that I’m not still in bed. So, for the next 4 hours I’m reduced to tears because it just happens to be the moment I walk into the living room that I get to hear about it….again. So I cheated on Today and flipped over to Good Morning America.
Here we have the black woman who documented her battle with cancer much like – but much less gross – Katie Couric’s tour of her colon (I’m not racist, I just don’t remember her name and I’m too lazy to look it up. If you want to know so badly, you do it. Let me know what you find out). The woman next to her starts a story about a woman who decided to give birth in an art museum. Um, sure. People have weddings there, so why the heck not? And people would be able to watch, i.e. performance art. Um, I’m sorry, what?! I changed the channel just as they said, “This material is not suitable for all viewers.” I love a good birth story, as long as there aren’t cameras and a price of admissions involved. Furthermore, who watches this kind of thing?! People spout, “Oh, childbirth is a beautiful thing!” No, it’s not. It’s fucking gross and involves vomit, blood, mucous, drool, human tissue, and poop. Yes poop! Next you’ll tell me taking a dump is beautiful. But I digress…..So there I was, changing the channel….
Remember Steve Wilkos circa Jerry Springer when it was so conveniently on right when we got home from school? He was the one who burst every balloon in the audience by breaking up the stripping fights when a really gross person started fighting with an even grosser person. Now he has his own show which is a step above Jerry, but below Maury and in my haste to avoid the desecration of an art museum, I accidentally landed on Steve and his Shocking Molestation Accusations. Now this just made me sick.
I managed to make it through the rest of my daytime schedule relatively unscathed. I love The Talk, and I find Anderson Cooper to be just creepy enough that he’s entertaining. My baby usually takes a nap around then and I decide it’s a good time for me too. We get up around 3pm, just in time for Dr. Phil, which I never pollute my ears with. In all honesty, I just really can’t stand his accent, but his channel is still one from before we went to sleep.
I wasn’t really watching because they were showing those explanatory, reenactment videos so I checked the information guide. On this very special episode, Dr. Phil was berating parents who are believed to be inflicting too harsh of punishments on their children, presumably an idea sprung from the video of the Judge whipping his daughter. Among them being…..wait for it…..gluing their children’s hands (to what it didn’t say), and forcing a child to kill a pet. Yes, you read that right. Even re-writing it now is making my heart pound and my hands start to shake.
After that, the rest of my day sort-of went downhill. I don’t blame it on TV, but is there no part of a producer’s mind that might consider this would BOTHER people?! Specifically considering said producer probably has her own standing prescription of Zoloft. People think they’re being cutting edge, ground-breaking journalism, bladdy, blah, blah. Fine, but why put it on daytime television when mothers are home alone and have easy access to kitchen knives? Better yet – these children these shows claim to be looking out for aren’t; in case you missed the memo, children are awake during the day and will probably offer a glance or two at the television. Yes, it’s my responsibility to make sure she isn’t watching anything she isn’t supposed to, but, come on, work with me here, since you’re supposed to be rated G. Or E….whatever.
Now here it is in the evening and we’re watching a documentary on banjoes on PBS. You can still be informed without learning every gruesome detail; and sometimes ignorance really is bliss.
The Idiot Box
Greetings, all of Daryl’s fellow rage-a-holics! If you’re lucky enough to know me, you know that I speak very openly and crassly about my one-sided battle with depression. If you’re just meeting me for the first time, well, let me tell you – I speak very openly and crassly about my one-sided battle with depression (I say one-sided because I watch from the couch as it slowly takes over my life). But I know I’m not alone. Many people experience depression, a large majority being mothers, particularly first-time mothers. And do you know who is staying home with the children during the day? The mothers; especially first-time mothers. And do you know what they’re watching? The Doctors, and a variety of other daytime talk shows, soap operas, and news programs. I don’t know what depression is like for other people, but the topics I happened to run across on one such day of being a stay-at-home mom are of no help to anybody.
Growing up, I was only generally aware of the Today Show, just thinking it was perpetually on one channel. Now that I’m an adult, I know that it’s only a measly 5 hours, and I’m routinely up before it starts at 7am. I appreciate how they promote the crap out of the segments they have coming up, like they’re Uncle Leo with a death grip on your arm for fear you’d walk away. So, thanks to these hyper-ads I was routinely teased with a man who received multiple transplants – high risk, one-in-a-million of course – and was going to meet the donor family for the very first time. Are you fucking kidding me?! Not only am I depressed, I’m also slightly groggy and a little pissed that I’m not still in bed. So, for the next 4 hours I’m reduced to tears because it just happens to be the moment I walk into the living room that I get to hear about it….again. So I cheated on Today and flipped over to Good Morning America.
Here we have the black woman who documented her battle with cancer much like – but much less gross – Katie Couric’s tour of her colon (I’m not racist, I just don’t remember her name and I’m too lazy to look it up. If you want to know so badly, you do it. Let me know what you find out). The woman next to her starts a story about a woman who decided to give birth in an art museum. Um, sure. People have weddings there, so why the heck not? And people would be able to watch, i.e. performance art. Um, I’m sorry, what?! I changed the channel just as they said, “This material is not suitable for all viewers.” I love a good birth story, as long as there aren’t cameras and a price of admissions involved. Furthermore, who watches this kind of thing?! People spout, “Oh, childbirth is a beautiful thing!” No, it’s not. It’s fucking gross and involves vomit, blood, mucous, drool, human tissue, and poop. Yes poop! Next you’ll tell me taking a dump is beautiful. But I digress…..So there I was, changing the channel….
Remember Steve Wilkos circa Jerry Springer when it was so conveniently on right when we got home from school? He was the one who burst every balloon in the audience by breaking up the stripping fights when a really gross person started fighting with an even grosser person. Now he has his own show which is a step above Jerry, but below Maury and in my haste to avoid the desecration of an art museum, I accidentally landed on Steve and his Shocking Molestation Accusations. Now this just made me sick.
I managed to make it through the rest of my daytime schedule relatively unscathed. I love The Talk, and I find Anderson Cooper to be just creepy enough that he’s entertaining. My baby usually takes a nap around then and I decide it’s a good time for me too. We get up around 3pm, just in time for Dr. Phil, which I never pollute my ears with. In all honesty, I just really can’t stand his accent, but his channel is still one from before we went to sleep.
I wasn’t really watching because they were showing those explanatory, reenactment videos so I checked the information guide. On this very special episode, Dr. Phil was berating parents who are believed to be inflicting too harsh of punishments on their children, presumably an idea sprung from the video of the Judge whipping his daughter. Among them being…..wait for it…..gluing their children’s hands (to what it didn’t say), and forcing a child to kill a pet. Yes, you read that right. Even re-writing it now is making my heart pound and my hands start to shake.
After that, the rest of my day sort-of went downhill. I don’t blame it on TV, but is there no part of a producer’s mind that might consider this would BOTHER people?! Specifically considering said producer probably has her own standing prescription of Zoloft. People think they’re being cutting edge, ground-breaking journalism, bladdy, blah, blah. Fine, but why put it on daytime television when mothers are home alone and have easy access to kitchen knives? Better yet – these children these shows claim to be looking out for aren’t; in case you missed the memo, children are awake during the day and will probably offer a glance or two at the television. Yes, it’s my responsibility to make sure she isn’t watching anything she isn’t supposed to, but, come on, work with me here, since you’re supposed to be rated G. Or E….whatever.
Now here it is in the evening and we’re watching a documentary on banjoes on PBS. You can still be informed without learning every gruesome detail; and sometimes ignorance really is bliss.
New angry topics coming up....
By: Daryl
Here's some volcanic anger boiling towards the surface.....
Future posts:
1. Clumping people. Near me. NO. NO. NO.
2. Scaring whitey.
Stay tuned, goobers.
Thursday, November 3, 2011
Do you know what DOESN'T make me angry? Artists that stand the test of time
By: Daryl
Last weekend, wife-unit April and I went to Ted's little Halloween soiree, and hung out for a bit with all the other very white, white, whiter than white people. In other words, we blended right in.
Music was playing in the background. It was Gary Numan's classic electronic track "Cars" from 1979. A bit cheesy by today's standards, but groundbreaking then. Take a look and a listen, maggots. Know your fucking history.
So, what is Gary Numan up to these days? As it turns out, he's still making really great music! If you like any industrial, techno, electronic, dub-step, breakbeat, type of music nowadays, you owe Gary Numan a word of thanks.
Here is his current video "The Fall" released on his new album "Dead Son Rising." This song fucking rocks on every level, bitches.
Last weekend, wife-unit April and I went to Ted's little Halloween soiree, and hung out for a bit with all the other very white, white, whiter than white people. In other words, we blended right in.
Music was playing in the background. It was Gary Numan's classic electronic track "Cars" from 1979. A bit cheesy by today's standards, but groundbreaking then. Take a look and a listen, maggots. Know your fucking history.
So, what is Gary Numan up to these days? As it turns out, he's still making really great music! If you like any industrial, techno, electronic, dub-step, breakbeat, type of music nowadays, you owe Gary Numan a word of thanks.
Here is his current video "The Fall" released on his new album "Dead Son Rising." This song fucking rocks on every level, bitches.
Wednesday, November 2, 2011
Rage trigger #56,887: Shitty hairstyles I thought had died in the 1980's
By: Daryl
Hey, the 80's were a magical time. Reagan, the USSR, the sense that World War III could break out at any moment, the birth of hip-hop, etc. Yes, the 80's were grand, but lets face it, some of the clothing and hairstyles needed to die when the 80's ended.* One such hair-style is called the "Rat Tail." It is a cousin of the more retro-popular mullet, where the hair is braided into a very skinny, long braid. Literally looks like a rat's tail. It probably smells like one as well.
Today, spotted in the mall in Ballston, was, I shit you not, a rat-tail, IN THE FUCKING WILD. Ninja-cam'd it for you.
HORRIFYING, ISN'T IT! Oh yeah, felt like I was back in high school, hanging out at Merle Hay Mall in Des Moines. Fucking rat-tail city. But no, it's 2011. Things like this should exist in 2011. Should they? Should....they? <SOBS> HOLD ME, TED. HOLD ME!!!!!!!
*Fashion disclaimer. I admit to having a mullet in the 1980's, but not a rat-tail. Jealous, aren't you? Goddamn right you are.
Hey, the 80's were a magical time. Reagan, the USSR, the sense that World War III could break out at any moment, the birth of hip-hop, etc. Yes, the 80's were grand, but lets face it, some of the clothing and hairstyles needed to die when the 80's ended.* One such hair-style is called the "Rat Tail." It is a cousin of the more retro-popular mullet, where the hair is braided into a very skinny, long braid. Literally looks like a rat's tail. It probably smells like one as well.
Today, spotted in the mall in Ballston, was, I shit you not, a rat-tail, IN THE FUCKING WILD. Ninja-cam'd it for you.
HORRIFYING, ISN'T IT! Oh yeah, felt like I was back in high school, hanging out at Merle Hay Mall in Des Moines. Fucking rat-tail city. But no, it's 2011. Things like this should exist in 2011. Should they? Should....they? <SOBS> HOLD ME, TED. HOLD ME!!!!!!!
*Fashion disclaimer. I admit to having a mullet in the 1980's, but not a rat-tail. Jealous, aren't you? Goddamn right you are.
Tuesday, November 1, 2011
Fine. Just stand there and stare.
I was at the grocery store today and noticed while walking down the meat section that when I looked down any random aisle, there were anywhere from 3-10 people standing in the middle of the aisle fucking reading stupid bullshit on their godforsaken information-phones.
Nobody was actually *buying* anything.
There may have been one or two older ladies buying crackers, but the people in my age group who clearly just left work (so many suits!) (this is the closest major grocery store to the Senate side of Capitol Hill, mind you) were just not even aware that they were in a grocery store aisle, much less that there was this awkward fat dude (me) trying to make my way to the goddamn Cheeze-Its so I can purchase them to cram into my face hole because they're delicious shut up.
Just stopped. In the way. Information-phones.
Fuck.
Stalking Ted isn't always fun and games....
By: Daryl
One of my duties as Chief Dictator in Chief of Angry Daryl Is Angry is to relentlessly stalk my fellow rage-bro, Ted. Because I.....hey....I don't need to explain myself to you people!!!!!
Anyhow.
I had been lurking in the shrubbery on Halloween, trying to figure out how to steal Teds candy, and went in to use his bathroom. Ted was wearing a shirt with an unusual message. Sure, Ted claims to be all liberal ooey-gooey-be-nice-to-poor-people-and-trees, but behind closed doors, it's a whole new ball game.
One of my duties as Chief Dictator in Chief of Angry Daryl Is Angry is to relentlessly stalk my fellow rage-bro, Ted. Because I.....hey....I don't need to explain myself to you people!!!!!
Anyhow.
I had been lurking in the shrubbery on Halloween, trying to figure out how to steal Teds candy, and went in to use his bathroom. Ted was wearing a shirt with an unusual message. Sure, Ted claims to be all liberal ooey-gooey-be-nice-to-poor-people-and-trees, but behind closed doors, it's a whole new ball game.
Ted, when the glorious, moderately left-wing revolution comes, I'll save you a comfy seat in the Barack Hussein Obama/ACORN/MSNBC People's Re-education Camp #1.
Monday, October 31, 2011
Angry Daryl Being Angry
Here's a creepy shot of one of your esteemed blogger persons when he and his wife abandoned all sense of good taste and showed up at this blogger's house for no apparent reason.
Sunday, October 30, 2011
Good news to all the Fatty McFatterson's out there
By: Daryl
Get excited in your pants for horrible, fat-drenched food, delivered directly to your house, practically RIGHT INTO YOUR FAT PIE-HOLE. Because, we just didn't have far too many options for this already.
I am getting fatter just writing this blog-post, and you're chunking up alarmingly as you read it.
We received this little love-note in our mailbox last week.
Apparently, Burger King, in a move to get more Americans to self-inflict obesity, heart disease, and diabetes on themselves, will deliver their alleged food-like products straight to your door. The door to your lazy, stained-with-shame, house. Why? Because you just ordered Burger King, which is bad enough, but were too damned lazy to walk (wtf is that?), ride a bike (again, wtf is that?), take a taxi (now we're talking), or drive in your large, American-made automobile (HELL YEAH!) in an effort to get your bag of greasy death.
So dial away, porkie! A bloated death can now be brought to your door.
Get excited in your pants for horrible, fat-drenched food, delivered directly to your house, practically RIGHT INTO YOUR FAT PIE-HOLE. Because, we just didn't have far too many options for this already.
I am getting fatter just writing this blog-post, and you're chunking up alarmingly as you read it.
We received this little love-note in our mailbox last week.
Apparently, Burger King, in a move to get more Americans to self-inflict obesity, heart disease, and diabetes on themselves, will deliver their alleged food-like products straight to your door. The door to your lazy, stained-with-shame, house. Why? Because you just ordered Burger King, which is bad enough, but were too damned lazy to walk (wtf is that?), ride a bike (again, wtf is that?), take a taxi (now we're talking), or drive in your large, American-made automobile (HELL YEAH!) in an effort to get your bag of greasy death.
So dial away, porkie! A bloated death can now be brought to your door.
Friday, October 28, 2011
Blogspot hates me and the Green Party
AND I HATE YOU RIGHT FUCKING BACK! Seriously, me....Green Party.....awesomeness. Think about it.
Wednesday, October 26, 2011
Outrage of the day: Shitty DJ's and SuperStar DJ's who are actually just Shitty DJ's on a big stage
By: Daryl
Just to be clear, by DJ, I do not mean "on air voice personality that speaks in nothing but cliche's." I mean someone who mixes songs together with the intent of achieving a purpose: a lively dancefloor, evoking a mood, supporting rappers on stage, etc.
Shitty DJ's make me fucking crazy in the head, so do superstar Shitty DJ's.
First, some definitions. Below, courtesy of Ted "I gotta YouBoob clip for that" Severson, is a shitty DJ. He's a wedding DJ who wears sneakers, and likes to keep time with the music by....well, just watch the clip. Not Really Safe For Work, fyi. Do you even have a job???
Well, that was horrifying, wasn't it? I have to go gouge my eyes out with a shovel, soaked in lemon juice, covered in cobra venom. That's better..........
Below, we have Tiesto, who is a SuperStar Shitty DJ. His music (and may of his ilk) is characterized by the same beat for 90 minutes that neither gets faster or slower, songs that have nothing but shimmery synth sounds sprinked with vapid female vocals, with the same beat (thumpthumpthumpthumpthump), and are usually coupled with an AMAZING light show to give you some distraction to the boredom being generated behind the turntables. (Insider tip, most do not use turntables and vinyl - they use mp3 files and controllers).
So, start the caffeine drip, and check out this craptacular DJ.
An example of a DJ with amazing skill, and music taste is Z-Trip, a party-style DJ. Check out the different styles of music, actual turntable use, and some unexpected twists.
Also at the level of Z-Trip is MixMaster Mike. He is an incredible DJ (hip-hop, turntablist, scratch) in his own right, and is also the DJ for the Beastie Boys.
Just to be clear, by DJ, I do not mean "on air voice personality that speaks in nothing but cliche's." I mean someone who mixes songs together with the intent of achieving a purpose: a lively dancefloor, evoking a mood, supporting rappers on stage, etc.
Shitty DJ's make me fucking crazy in the head, so do superstar Shitty DJ's.
First, some definitions. Below, courtesy of Ted "I gotta YouBoob clip for that" Severson, is a shitty DJ. He's a wedding DJ who wears sneakers, and likes to keep time with the music by....well, just watch the clip. Not Really Safe For Work, fyi. Do you even have a job???
Well, that was horrifying, wasn't it? I have to go gouge my eyes out with a shovel, soaked in lemon juice, covered in cobra venom. That's better..........
Below, we have Tiesto, who is a SuperStar Shitty DJ. His music (and may of his ilk) is characterized by the same beat for 90 minutes that neither gets faster or slower, songs that have nothing but shimmery synth sounds sprinked with vapid female vocals, with the same beat (thumpthumpthumpthumpthump), and are usually coupled with an AMAZING light show to give you some distraction to the boredom being generated behind the turntables. (Insider tip, most do not use turntables and vinyl - they use mp3 files and controllers).
So, start the caffeine drip, and check out this craptacular DJ.
An example of a DJ with amazing skill, and music taste is Z-Trip, a party-style DJ. Check out the different styles of music, actual turntable use, and some unexpected twists.
Also at the level of Z-Trip is MixMaster Mike. He is an incredible DJ (hip-hop, turntablist, scratch) in his own right, and is also the DJ for the Beastie Boys.
And lastly, we have DJ? Acucrack (producer, dancefloor). Sorry for the mediocre sound quality, it's the best I could find.
And if you are still reading by this point, why don't you check out a little mix I've done for a friends brunch. It's a bit rough, but it has potential. You can listen or download here.
Say, would you like to be a Shitty DJ or a Shitty SuperStar DJ, or maybe an actual DJ that is fun to listen to? You can download a free mixing program here. No controller hardware required, just music files, and you own imagination. Just try not to suck, ok?
Monday, October 24, 2011
Do you work in an office? Yay! You're screwed!
By: Daryl
Hello fellow mouth-breathers.
Do you work in an office? So do I!!!! We're cubicle buddies! We make "TPS Report" jokes from the late 90's still sound fresh as they did 4 years ago when they were still pretty damn old.
As you may know, offices have "problems" such as: IT systems that do not work, or other employees that do not work, or employees who work very hard at wasting the time of other employees actually trying to do work. So, what is management to do? Do they:
Hello fellow mouth-breathers.
Do you work in an office? So do I!!!! We're cubicle buddies! We make "TPS Report" jokes from the late 90's still sound fresh as they did 4 years ago when they were still pretty damn old.
As you may know, offices have "problems" such as: IT systems that do not work, or other employees that do not work, or employees who work very hard at wasting the time of other employees actually trying to do work. So, what is management to do? Do they:
- Clearly address the issue and give firm guidance (heh. 'Firm.' *giggle*)?
- Make prudent investments in computer and network technology and other shiny electronic boobs?
- Ruthlessly discipline the aforementioned malcontent employees?
What is usually done is to reshuffle the deck. This consists of moving teams from the control of one VP to another. Because this makes a huge difference. Yep. Huge. Like you mom's meatloaf. To drive this point home, I have included this handy deck of cards/slab of meat picture. Why? Because it's my blog, that's why! And, it visually represents the deck of cards/meat analogies I am using. Or are they metaphors. Fuck, I don't know. I'm no east coast elitist. GO GWU COLONIALS! BUFF AND BLUE ONWARD TO VICTORY, AND THEN SCONES!!!
And now, the picture.
Pretty awesome right? And just so you know, you're looking at my meat. That's right. Gaze longingly at it. Meaty.
Upcoming posts, or, "I tease, you giggle."
By: Daryl
Upcoming posts will feature such turgid topics as:
1. Reshuffling the deck: Maybe we'll magically get more than 52 cards this time!
2. How to be a Super Star DJ. (Translation: Super Star DJ's almost always suck, and I'll tell you why, and I'll give you the tools to fix this problem, you lazy fucks)
Kindly sit on the edge of your seats in anticipation.
Thanks, ingrates!
Daryl
Friday, October 21, 2011
Follow me on twitter if you enjoy....MY SCORCHING LIBERALISM!!!!
As a twitter-whore, I get a special tingle in my naughties when someone follows me. However, I am often baffled when people who are diametrically opposed to my politics choose to follow. Are they just randomly following people? Are they curious about the glorious slow-motion train wreck that is the Green Party? Do they think I'm cute? BECAUSE I AM!
Regardless, this lucky fellow is in for some fun...
Tuesday, October 18, 2011
Door math. Or, 1+1=1. Or, 2=1. Or, Daryl = Full of Rage
By: Daryl
Hello reader(s)! Fun fact, the double door was invented in 1645 by Thermopoly F. Doubledoor of Manchester, England. He realized the simple fact that if one door as an entrance/exit to a building was good, then TWO would be better. Two, not one, but TWO streams of people could enter and exit a building at the same time.
Mind. Blown.
Here's a fun picture of this amazing invention, using space age steel and glass.
There is only one teensy-smeensy-bleensy-queensy-fleentzy little cock-crushing problem.
IF ONE OF THE DOORS IS KEPT LOCKED IT DEFEATS THE PURPOSE OF HAVING DOUBLE DOORS FOR THE LOVE OF [DEITY, OR NOT, WHATEVER]!!!!!
This happens with startling regularity at: Starbucks, Starbucks, and there's this coffee place that serves coffee called Starbucks.
Why? Why is only one of the two doors unlocked? Am I on camera lurching to a stop against the unexpectedly locked door? Do sadists work there who secretly wish hot coffee spilled on people?
The world may never know. However, if you hear of a rash of doors being crushed and destroyed by some masked, anger-soaked, vengeful living god of destruction (pssssst! That's me! Don't tell!), now you know why.
Hello reader(s)! Fun fact, the double door was invented in 1645 by Thermopoly F. Doubledoor of Manchester, England. He realized the simple fact that if one door as an entrance/exit to a building was good, then TWO would be better. Two, not one, but TWO streams of people could enter and exit a building at the same time.
Mind. Blown.
Here's a fun picture of this amazing invention, using space age steel and glass.
There is only one teensy-smeensy-bleensy-queensy-fleentzy little cock-crushing problem.
IF ONE OF THE DOORS IS KEPT LOCKED IT DEFEATS THE PURPOSE OF HAVING DOUBLE DOORS FOR THE LOVE OF [DEITY, OR NOT, WHATEVER]!!!!!
This happens with startling regularity at: Starbucks, Starbucks, and there's this coffee place that serves coffee called Starbucks.
Why? Why is only one of the two doors unlocked? Am I on camera lurching to a stop against the unexpectedly locked door? Do sadists work there who secretly wish hot coffee spilled on people?
The world may never know. However, if you hear of a rash of doors being crushed and destroyed by some masked, anger-soaked, vengeful living god of destruction (pssssst! That's me! Don't tell!), now you know why.
Guess who's stalking me? TEH GOOGLE!
In a valiant effort to find a less stroke-inducing route home from Preferred Local Metro Station, I turned to Google Maps. Addresses were entered, routes were examined, little purple lines were dragged willy-nilly to create better routes.
I'm fairly awesome at creating better routes.
And then, I saw this:
As an editorial note, the scrawly red writing may not have been there prior to the screen-grab. At first I blushed, I giggled, I was a little flattered. And then I wondered about this Google, and decided it was probably just in it for a booty-call.
DENIED. My virtue remains pure like the driven snow.
I'm fairly awesome at creating better routes.
And then, I saw this:
As an editorial note, the scrawly red writing may not have been there prior to the screen-grab. At first I blushed, I giggled, I was a little flattered. And then I wondered about this Google, and decided it was probably just in it for a booty-call.
DENIED. My virtue remains pure like the driven snow.
Thursday, October 13, 2011
The 9:30 Club
You know what makes me angry about the 9:30 Club in DC?
NOTHING. HA! You didn't see that one coming, did you???
Sucker.
An Angry Public Service Announcement.....
By: Daryl
Cigarettes = boiled mastodon poop
Now you know.
Spread the word.
Tuesday, October 11, 2011
The answer is: RAGE.
By: Daryl
Hi!
Do you speak the english language at a fluent and or native level? Me too! Let us speak english to each other, and use it as a medium to encode data from our brains, ejaculating it from our mouths, send it vibrating (boing!) through the air, thrusting into our earholes, stimulating our auditory nerves, and penetrating deeply into the eager recesses of each others slutty minds.
HOT! RAWR! I NEED A CIGARETTE AND SOME PILLOW TALK AND SOME SNUGGLING AND A MORNING AFTER PILL.
However, if you insist on doing any or all of the following, and I will mentally dismember you in a most gruesome fashion:
Unnecessarily word conservation. Words are not albino rhino's. They are not endangered and in need of conservation. The word population is unlimited. Please feel free to use enough to adequately express your idea. Avoid sentences such as "Hey, did you see that thing over there by the thing?" or "Grapefruit?" or "She's pretty" (referring to a room full of "women" - WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT???) or Random Subject Changes (RSC's) such as "I really love fish tacos, but what I really wonder is, do submarines smell like a mix of feet and repressed homosexual urges?" Or, the question that never congeals into a coherent query "Hey, do you?....how do you?.....when you do this should?....." AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH! GET TO THE ACTUAL QUESTION OR I'LL CHOKE YOU TO DEATH WITH A MAD-LIBS BOOK!
So remember, fellow cunning-linguists (see what I did there?): Subject + verb + predicate = Linguistic nirvana. It is the greatest form of love to think about your question for 2 seconds versus verbally machine-gunning your fellow man with a stream of nonsense that is gosh darn crystal-clear up until the moment it leaves your pretty, pretty mouth.
My promise to you: I will respect you in the morning, unless you're a whore, or Ted.
Hi!
Do you speak the english language at a fluent and or native level? Me too! Let us speak english to each other, and use it as a medium to encode data from our brains, ejaculating it from our mouths, send it vibrating (boing!) through the air, thrusting into our earholes, stimulating our auditory nerves, and penetrating deeply into the eager recesses of each others slutty minds.
HOT! RAWR! I NEED A CIGARETTE AND SOME PILLOW TALK AND SOME SNUGGLING AND A MORNING AFTER PILL.
However, if you insist on doing any or all of the following, and I will mentally dismember you in a most gruesome fashion:
Unnecessarily word conservation. Words are not albino rhino's. They are not endangered and in need of conservation. The word population is unlimited. Please feel free to use enough to adequately express your idea. Avoid sentences such as "Hey, did you see that thing over there by the thing?" or "Grapefruit?" or "She's pretty" (referring to a room full of "women" - WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT???) or Random Subject Changes (RSC's) such as "I really love fish tacos, but what I really wonder is, do submarines smell like a mix of feet and repressed homosexual urges?" Or, the question that never congeals into a coherent query "Hey, do you?....how do you?.....when you do this should?....." AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH! GET TO THE ACTUAL QUESTION OR I'LL CHOKE YOU TO DEATH WITH A MAD-LIBS BOOK!
So remember, fellow cunning-linguists (see what I did there?): Subject + verb + predicate = Linguistic nirvana. It is the greatest form of love to think about your question for 2 seconds versus verbally machine-gunning your fellow man with a stream of nonsense that is gosh darn crystal-clear up until the moment it leaves your pretty, pretty mouth.
My promise to you: I will respect you in the morning, unless you're a whore, or Ted.
Thursday, October 6, 2011
Tuesday, September 27, 2011
FUCKING ANGRY CHILI
You should stop being such a fat fuck American with your HFCS-coated everything, and cook for yourself once in awhile you lazy fucks. Here's something easy that I made tonight (other than Daryl's mom) that's delicious, long lasting, and spicy.
ANGRY CHILI!
Buy these:
- 2 pounds of ground beef (if you want to go with some lame-ass "free-range grass-fed organically-masturbated" beef, fine, Jesus, you people, that's up to you. Capitalism!)
- 2 big fuck onions. I prefer yellow onions for this, but if you're considering a run at the GOP primary, white onions will also work.
- Garlic
- 2 big fuck cans of whole peeled tomatoes. The Cento ones in the yellow can are my favorite.
- BEER! Yes, beer. The darker and ale-ier it is, the better. If I catch you fuckers using Miller Lite, so help me Flying Spaghetti Monster...
- Chili powder. The usual red-topped spice thing you find at every grocery store everywhere will work, but if you want a kick, go to a farmers' market or Mexican orgy or wherever they sell chili and get some different chili. You'll wind up using damn near a third of a cup, maybe more, depending on how hot Daryl's mom likes it
- Some cumin, I guess?
- Salt
- Tomato paste maybe. We'll get to that. Have a tiny one on hand. I always do. Wokka wokka.
- Pinto beans that you've drained and rinsed and put in a bowl off to the side.
Do this:
- Chop the onions. I was lame and used a food processor, and that's FINE because this is AMERICA. Use a knife if you think your favorite Food Network stars would cry otherwise.
- Mince the garlic. I used about 5 cloves.
- Open the cans of tomatoes, and drain the juice through a strainer but SAVE THE JUCE in a bowl. You'll want it later. Chop up the whole peeled tomatoes a bit so they're not just big floating red Turds of Flavor. Hey Daryl, isn't Turds of Flavor playing next week at the 9:30 Club? We should go.
- Brown the ground beef in a frying pan. Drain as much grease as you want.
- In a big stock pot, heat up some olive oil and then get the garlic sizzling.
- Add the onions. Get 'em going.
- Once the onions are brown-ish, add the BEEF.
- Open a beer. Slam it.
- Open a second beer. Pour *that* into the stock pot with the rest of the "food".
- Let the alcohol burn off like you did the morning after Senior Prom.
- Drop in peeled tomatoes.
- Add in the chili powder and the cumin. Salt a bit, too, maybe.
- It will probably be thicker than you like. That's ok, it's supposed to feel like that. I tried to warn you.
- That tomato juice you strained from the can and set aside? Yeah, that. Put in more of that than you think is necessary, and let it cook with the lid off on medium for about 20 minutes so it reduces. Stir once in awhile. It'll thicken up.
- If it's still too thin for your liking, let it reduce more and/or add some tomato paste. If it's too thick, add some water, but really, why would you?
- Once it's a consistency you like, put the lid on and turn the heat to low and let it sit there for an hour. Stir if you remember to.
- About 10 minutes before it's done, add in the pinto beans.
- Did you taste it? It probably needs salt. Maybe some more chili powder. Careful, it's hot, you imbecile.
- Better? Good. Eat it.
- Top with shredded YELLOW FLAVORED CHEESE.
- Clean up the mess you made unless you have an immigrant to help you with that.
This recipe makes a LOT, as in, like, enough for at least 5 or more people. If you don't have any friends, make some you yutz. It's called Facebook. Use it.
Open a window; you'll fart all night.
The end.
Economics? Capitalism? Stupidity antidote? YES PLEASE!
By: Daryl
Here is a lesson in economics, friends. You see, when I was a senior in high school, approximately 14 years after the earth cooled and dinosaurs stalked the arboreal forests of Pangea, I took a class called Macroeconomics. This class, taught by the open-market loving Mr. Treman, taught me all about the basics of capitalism: Supply, demand, land, labor, capital, opportunity costs, taxes, tariffs, monopolies, all that good stuff. It also taught me about complimentary goods. And that, dear reader(s), is what this post is about.
<----hey - would you like your capitalism on the rocks, or straight up?
The conventional wisdom (especially in the DC "Crappy traffic capital of the region") is 'Golly! Traffic sure is heavy! Lets add more lanes!'...five years later...'Golly! Traffic sure is heavy! Lets add more lanes...five years later...'Golly! Traffic sure is heavy! Lets add more lanes!'
Seeing a pattern here? It's almost as if adding more lanes not only has zero effect on traffic problems, it's that traffic actually gets heavier/worse the more lanes you add. That's because boys and girls, roads and traffic lanes are complimentary goods to cars. If you add more lanes, having a car is a more attractive transportation option, so people buy more cars, and traffic gets heavier, and more lanes are added, and the cycle loops around and around. It comes down to this - we could have freeways running through the greater DC area with 10 lanes on each side, and in a few years, traffic would be just as awful as it is now.
So when traffic becomes a problem, the solution is not to add more roads and lanes. If only there were some other 'alternative' transporation technology that could move lots of people without adding lanes, or without even using roads at all.....hmmmm.....what could it be???
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