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:

1. 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.
2. Mince the garlic. I used about 5 cloves.
3. 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.
4. Brown the ground beef in a frying pan. Drain as much grease as you want.
5. In a big stock pot, heat up some olive oil and then get the garlic sizzling.
6. Add the onions. Get 'em going.
7. Once the onions are brown-ish, add the BEEF.
8. Open a beer. Slam it.
9. Open a second beer. Pour *that* into the stock pot with the rest of the "food".
10. Let the alcohol burn off like you did the morning after Senior Prom.
11. Drop in peeled tomatoes.
12. Add in the chili powder and the cumin. Salt a bit, too, maybe.
13. It will probably be thicker than you like. That's ok, it's supposed to feel like that. I tried to warn you.
14. 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.
15. 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?
16. 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.
17. About 10 minutes before it's done, add in the pinto beans.
18. Did you taste it? It probably needs salt. Maybe some more chili powder. Careful, it's hot, you imbecile.
19. Better? Good. Eat it.
20. Top with shredded YELLOW FLAVORED CHEESE.
21. 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?

So, complimentary goods, what are they? Read the wikipedia link about...sheesh are you lazy! Ok, if you did not read the wikipedia link, complimentary goods are goods or services that are often related to each other, effect each others use, or prices. An example is peanut butter and jelly, hot dogs and buns, cars and gasoline, etc. The point is, when the price of one goes up or down, the other good is effected. Tonight's example is cars (or other vehicles) and roads/lanes.

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???

***cross-posted at Essential Green Party Politics***

Just so you know....

Today's motto is: MARTINI-FUELED DEBAUCHERY!

That is all.

Carry on.

Bastards.

mumble, mumble, mumble, BOOM!!!!!!!, mumble, mumble.....

By: Daryl

Here's a quickie for you. What? You want foreplay? Forget it. This blog is about my pleasure. Not yours. Not ever.

This humble (yet perfect) blog entry is about volume, as in sound energy.

I have a real issue with the sound mix in modern movies. Basically, it fucking sucks really really hard, like a black hole. The problem is this - when viewed on DVD, the recording level is ridiculously quiet for lines spoken between characters, you know, HUMAN SPEECH, which is allegedly where the plot lives. (Unless it's a Michael Bay movie, in that case, the plot exists partially in some explosions, but mostly in the glorious bosom of Megan Fox. LOL. Boobies.)

Conversely, for explosions, gunfire, machine noises, farm animal grunts, toilets flushing, and deep fat fryers, the volume level is recorded WAY TOO LOUD!


So that's where the title of this blog post comes from. 90% of movies on DVD sound like this: mumble, mumble, mumble, BOOM!!!!!!!, mumble, mumble.....and then a pinch of completely unnecessary but totally appreciated nudity.


Other potential titles for the entry were:
1. Why watch a movie when you can be forced to focus on the shitty sound level mixing?
2. Volume goes up, volume goes down, volume goes up, volume goes
down....
3. Movie sound engineers are all fucking sadists and need to die.
4. If you tell me I need Dolby Ultra 5.1 Super Thrust Surround Lube Sound Penetration Design speakers, I will test my new piranha collection on your (insert most prized and precious body party here).

Outrage of the decades: The Telephone

By: Daryl

Alexander Graham Bell invented the telephone. Also, he invented Graham crackers, and Bell-bottom jeans. Of course, Horation Q. Bottom disputes Grahams assertion regarding the jeans.....

(Ok, not really a pure phone picture, but this is what it feels like sometimes)

My job career has been, well, "diverse." This means I have had a lot of different jobs that have all been about as satisfying as a kick in the junk. 

I have been at one time or another: An assistant manager at a pizza restaurant, a telephone customer service rep for a magazine subscription company, a rental-counter agent at an equipment rental store, a DJ, an insurance company worker, a 'research assistant' at a democratic political consulting shop, a mortgage industry lackey, and now again an insurance company worker, and a Green Party political hack.

Most of these jobs have involved a lot of time spent on the phone. As a result, I really hate talking on the phone. A lot. With a passion. Why? Let me tell you what my working experience has taught me about phone calls. 

There are 3 basic types of business phone calls:

1. "Target of Opportunity": This type of call involves getting blamed and yelled at for the mistake of someone else. Typically, customer service reps get a lot of these calls. "On behalf of PoopCo, I would like to apologize that we sent you a giant bag of flaming poop in error, Mr. Smith. Kindly screech obscenities and make snide comments to me until you feel better. That's a good psychopath, let it all out. I have no feelings or self-esteem, so please, just abuse the crap out of me. Thank you and have a nice day!"

2. "Hello, is this MENSA?": This type of call involves being asked a question either far more complicated than you could possibly answer, or, being asked a question that your boss refuses to give you the information to answer without sounding like a complete poop-tard. Me "Thank you for calling Acme insurance company." Caller: "Um, yeah, I heard that mortgage bonds are bad and stinky. Do you have those in your investment portfolio? If so, how many, what's your risk exposure, are they collateralized debt obligations, or real estate investment trusts, what's the maturity date, have you purchased default insurance.....?" 

3. "I got warrants.": This type of call (my personal favorite) generally involves being asked to do something that is at best, completely unethical, and probably a felony. Caller: "Um, yeah.....could you just sign the client's name for me on the contract application that's passed through multiple jurisdictions and crossed state lines?" -  Me: "gosh, let me find a pen, and some soap on a rope!"

So if you call me, and it goes to voicemail, don't take it personally. And if you do, trust me, I am caring as hard as I can about that, I really am.

But not really.

----

Daryl Northrop

Chief Angrist at Angry Daryl Is Angry

IT IS TED'S BIRTHDAY!

All of you need to wish my fellow rage-a-holic Ted a happy fucking birthday. NOW!

For some reason, this ad appeals to me...

By: Daryl

Can I do this one handed? Just askin.....

More adolescent humor to follow, I'm sure. After an appropriate dose of anger, of course.

Anger antidote - The Wisdom Of The Hand

By: Daryl Northrop

Here at Angry Daryl Is Angry, we are all about solutions. Ok, that last sentence is a big pile of steamy, stanky bullshit. But, once in a very long while, we might kick out an idea that might have some value to someone somewhere, maybe.

And that advice is, in picture form...................

(No hands here harmed in the posting of this blog entry. That's for you, PETA, you strident, joyless, assholes)

Genius, eh? Rumor has it this was the first draft of Palin's interview notes. The other hand said "Don't touch your dirty parts." BOING! *rimshot* HEYOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Full moon.....

By: Daryl

You were hoping for a picture of my ass, right?

Dream on, swine. Dream on.

Actually, it's a full moon today/tonight. Expect crazier than usual behavior from, well, everyone. Yes,  you.

BLOG ON, MOTHERFUKCERS!

Pedestrians - Why U No Use Crosswalks????

Ted got the driving theme started, so here's my gripe. (get it? driving...started....like a car....see what I did there?)

Pedestrians - just a little query for you. Why do you not use crosswalks, or sidewalks, for that matter? Crosswalks are fairly magical places where you may cross the street, and most drivers agree not to run you over. The magic white stripes on the ground protect you. Seriously. For bonus fun, there are often lighted guides that will actually tell you when it is safe to cross and when it is not safe. You don't even have to think! The nanny-state will do it for you! Your government Daddy/Mommy knows best, after all.

(A visual representation of me, driving. Aren't I cutesy-patootsie?)

However, many of you feel the need to defy your all-knowing government and just cross wherever the fuck you want. Also, this tends to be right in front of me. Is it because I drive a Prius? Do you think I'm a nice, life-respecting person because I like to get 40mpg? Really, that's a dangerous assumption on your part. Why? Because in reality, my murderous urges are often held back only by sheer force of will.

Ooops! Have I said too much? Don't worry, I'm sure my violent rage-drenched urges are not directed against you. No, not you.....yes, you.

So, in the interest of a kinder, gentler, less blood-soaked life, I am going to fit my vehicle with a cow-catcher. What is a cow-catcher you might ask? It is a device that used to be fitted on the front of trains to deflect things from hitting it: cows, farmers, farmers daughters (oh yeah! BOING!), zombie nazi's, etc. I have un-earthed some documentary footage as to what a cow-catcher in use on an old-timey train looks like.

Ok - this video is about so much more than just a train using a cow-catcher, but hey, it makes me smile. You know what else makes me smile? Fuck you. That's what. :-)  <----that's me smiling right now.

Again with the driving of the cars

Rainy morning. Major DC intersection. For some reason a normally clusterfucked intersection was extra clusterfucked because all the lights were flashing red.

You dear readers, you've been to traffic school (I assume?) and know that when the lights are all flashing red it's like you're at a 4 way stop (hehehe four way). Everybody takes turns depending on who got to the intersection first. If there's a tie, it's the person on the right. Duh.

Except these are DC drivers. And some trucks. So they just all sort of pile into the intersection at once if they hadn't decided to just fucking stop there and stare at the flashing red light like a primitive cave man looking at an iPad for the first time. "Shit, Marge, now what?"

So then you have people half-jolting into the intersection, and then a truck decides it's his turn, and then some asshole in a beat-up minivan lurches through and then it's my turn but a dickwad in a ServPro truck decides to just gun it because he has important shit to do, and on and on. Plus it's raining.

And as you know, rain makes everybody in DC just a little bit slower in the brain for no reason.

Rage-stroke cause #9,256,113: Exact change

A common retail scenario:

Cashier "4 gallons of organic, vegan, free-range lube....that'll be $18.73."
Customer "Oh, hold on a minute, I gots me some exact change. Um.....I gots a 50cent piece, a button, 3 nickels,  um, oh wait, I've got a lot of pennies here to get rid of......"

Hours pass.

"......um......ok, here's the 73cents!"

HOORAY! YOU MADE SOME EXACT MOTHERFUCKING CHANGE! May sweet baby Jesus anoint you with glory and accolades for such an auspicious event!

I know that most of us have worked crappy, cash-register centric retail jobs at one point or another, or work at one now, or will work at one in the future the next time the banks and politicians have another "Oooopsie! We done blowed up the economy again! Gimme a bailout!" episode. Here is a simple fact that should guide your actions when waiting in line to pay with actual American cash dollars.

Do not try to give exact change. Ever.
"But, but, but, but I've got a penny right here!" you might say.

Shut it. Keep it. Give it to a bum. Throw it away. Level a chair leg with it. Just keep it in your filthy pocket.

Why? Why am I being such a tyrannical towering turd about this?

99.999999% of the time, a customer will NEVER, EVER, EVER, EEEEEVVVVEEEERRRR be able to give exact change faster than the cashier is able to give the change back to you. Get it? You (yes you, yeah, really, you, numbnuts) are not exempt from this rule. I don't care if you're Rainman, or have coin-spewing machine lodged in your rectum. You will not beat the clock on this one. In fact, you will most likely be slow as hell, thus delaying the line, and significantly shorten the lives of those behind you who have the decency to pay via credit or debit card, or hand over cash and let the cashier make change, and of course, not take eons of time to write out a stupid check from the 1950's.

Keep.
The.
Change.

Angry Wong is Guest Column Angry

(Angry Daryl is Angry is happy to present our first Guest Angry post! - Daryl)

"PANTS ON THE GROUND. PANTS ON THE GROUND. LOOKIN LIKE A FOO' WITH YOUR PANTS ON THE GROUND."

In all seriousness, that man had a point. A very good one. 

Something is amiss in the State of People's Pants.

I was inspired by State Senator Gary Siplin of Florida passing out belts to high school students on the first day of school. You go Senator Siplin! No one wants to see y'all Floridian teens' fruit o' the looms! Hell no!

I've neatly summarized the problems with people's pants into three succinct categories:

BAGGY SAGGYS: Dear (sub)"urban" teens of America, as previously mentioned, I have absolutely no interest in seeing your various brands of underpants. I also do not appreciate your attempts to sag your man-pris into being pants. You look sloppy. If I was your supervisor I'd have you packed off to military school immediately. YOU are why our nation is becoming dumber. I'm only half kidding.

LEGGINGS: Dear women of America, leggings/jeggings/tights are NOT PANTS. Wearing a belted shirt that barely covers your butt REQUIRES YOU TO WEAR PANTS OR A SKIRT UNDERNEATH. I'm sorry but wearing leggings on the outside means you are basically naked. Not okay.

BAD JEANS: Dear Men of Washington and Europe, Please note the following list of unacceptable jeanswear: Acid-wash anything, high-waisted 80s mom jeans with your polo shirt tucked in, "highwaters" and "clamdiggers" just means your jeans were hemmed too short, "fitted" or "bootcut" jeans which show off your office-acquired boo-tay, skinny jeans of any persuasion. 

In short, pants make me angry. Maybe we should switch to pantless society and all of these problems would be solved.

Respectfully yours,

Wonderwong
--
Fight on!

Can I pay by check?

This:

One last bit of housekeeping here before I let you continue fumbling through the future with your ancient bullshit: PEOPLE DON’T FUCKING WRITE CHECKS ANYMORE.