Life’s Little Lessons Vol. 4 – Shoplifting:My Anti-Drug

Look at these freshly-scrubbed, well-lit demographics!

Being a teen and/or tween in today’s society can be tough. Between the pressure of school and the pressures of Todd (who one day hopes to run his own comic book/porn shop), today’s youngsters often find themselves turning to the incredibly comfortable embrace of drugs.

Good for them, I say! You don’t want to spend the rest of the “best years of your life” stressed and closed-legged. You’re only young once! Live now while you still have your whole future to destroy!

But remember, each one of you is very different in very similar ways. Some of you are natural-born leaders, willing to lead the pack down the various dark alleys and cul-de-sacs that make up life.

Others are the pace-setters who establish the speed the pack will run, neither leading or following, but rather, middle-managing.

Still others will cull the herd, picking off those without proper clothing, musical taste or an older brother who can buy them beer.

The rest will run with the pack, nose-to-anus, following blindly. They are still an essential part of the whole, like pawns in a chess match or civilians in a war-torn but heavily televised country.

With all these essential pieces forming an inseparable and indistinguishable whole, it’s easy to forget those who take the “road less travelled.” In fact, it’s incredibly easy to forget them as you most likely will never see them again until you’re delivering Pepsi to their multi-store retail chains or detailing their Jag while they get a blowjob from your girlfriend at the nearest Holiday Inn Express.

Signage courtesy of the newly-enacted "Winona's Law."

There are some people from all walks of life (Note: “all walks” = ages 13-19) for whom drugs are not the answer. Surprising, I know, what with all the enhancements, side effects and crippling withdrawal that drugs have to offer.

For some, the thrill comes from skirting the law. It may start with random jaywalking or curfew violations. From there they may move on to cheating on their finals or entering false information on their Census forms, always seeking a new “high” or “rush” or other co-opted drug metaphor.

Before they know it (which is most likely before you know it, especially if you’re the victim), they’ve fallen into a life of petty crime, filled with illegal football pools and un-itemized deductions. It’s as if they can’t stop themselves. Soon their auto insurance has lapsed and they’re carelessly smoking well within the confines of the 200-foot “No Smoking” zone.

If this goes unchecked long enough, these no-goodniks, these “Goofi” will have clawed their way to the top of the criminal heap with the most heinous of misdemeanors: shoplifting.

It’s now a very dim future for these malcontents as they travel down a lonely, but heavily populated, road to ruin.

Watch for these warning signs:

• Heavy clothing during warm months.
• Heavy clothing during cold months.
• Heavy clothing during promiscuous, meaningless sex.
• Sudden increase of small items and knickknacks with no verifiable income increase.
• Sudden detainment for shoplifting.
• Incessant humming of Jane’s Addiction’s hit Been Caught Stealing.
• Father’s Day gifts include caseless DVD, 16 Bic lighters, a laser penlight, 12 assorted packs of unpopular gum and a deck of cards.

It’s not too late! Grab your teen/tween (gently and appropriately, of course) and set them back on the drug path, with its relative safety in numbers and proven track record of lazy ineptness and occasional home invasions. Remind Grandma to put the Oxy-Contin in the gun safe.

Remember: You can’t prevent drugs from being the problem. You can only prevent them from being the solution.

Up next on Life’s Little Lessons:
The Third-Person Miracle of Childbirth: Renting Out Your Uterus for Fun and Profit.

-CLT

Heavy Rotation Vol. 32

Welcome back to Fancy Plans record-setting series, in terms of longevity and Youtube clickthru views. It’s been a few weeks since the last volume, but I’ve got something special for the return: actual file hosting. This means no more leaving the site for downloads or watching some hastily slapped together Youtube video. Just right-click on the song title to download or push “Play” on the player to give it a whirl. Enjoy.

Previous volumes here:
The Heavy Rotation Archives

We Are Wolves – La Nature.mp3
Coming on like a 3-piece Death From Above 1979, Montreal’s We Are Wolves consist of a lead bassist (and occasional guitarist), a drummer, a drum machine and a keyboardist whose sole duty is to coax the unholiest of buzzing noises out of his twin Rolands. Tending toward blistering 2-1/2 chord rock in most of their songs, La Nature follows a slightly different path, relying more on building space with lode-bearing reverb and echoing vocals/vocalizations. The final product bears more than a passing resemblance to Suicide’s finer moments.

Sonic Boom – RNR Is Killing My Life.mp3
Speaking of Suicide, here’s a kickass cover of one of their tracks, courtesy of Pete “Sonic Boom” Kember, a founding member of drone-rock antagonists, Spacemen 3. Sonic says rock and roll is killing his life and he sounds like he means it, maaaan. Surprisingly hummable and perfect for those do-nothing days where you just want to lay around the house pumping yourself full of heroin.

Spacemen 3 – Transparent Radiation.mp3
Speaking of the Spacemen 3, here they are with a fine rendition of a Red Krayola track. Cutting way back on the drone serves them well, allowing the song’s spacious melancholy to shine darkly. Of course, the glacial pace and the use of the saddest chords since Spinal Tap’s last “artistic” effort aid the cause. Oh, and lots of echo and reverb, as was their way.

Belong – Late Night.mp3
Speaking of covering avant-garde psychedelic forefathers, here’s another glacially-paced thing of crippling beauty, all submerged vocals and layers of electronic gauze. This cover of an old Syd Barrett track (I say “old” because he hasn’t really release much recently, what with being dead and all) is a masterpiece of breathtaking ambience. (I say “breathtaking” because drowning tends to do exactly that.)

DatA – Blood Theme.mp3
Speaking of nothing in particular, here’s uber-producer DatA/Danger with an alternately brutal and beautiful reimagination of Giorgio Moroder’s Tony’s Theme from the Scarface soundtrack. Opening with unadorned piano, the track soon gives way to buzzing bass growls and a swaggering low-end thump, building and building until the 2:30 mark, where the cacophony suddenly gives way to the haunting sighs of processed female vocals. Hold on. DatA dives right back in for a little more thrashing before setting the listener adrift on the piano coda.

[All music posted on Fancy Plans... is kick ass and too awesome to be contained. All music is also posted temporarily and, due to its high level of ass-kicking, should not be distributed without a prescription and care should be taken while operating heavy equipment or dancing around the living room (clothing optional, but do remember that the blinds are open/kids are still awake).
Should you wish to have your brilliant artistic statement forced back into confinement, please email me at 2timegrime@gmail.com. Feel free to leave a comment, as that will probably be noticed sooner.
By all means, if you like what you hear (and you will), please support the totally rocking artist(s) by purchasing some music or heading out to see them live.]

-CLT

Leaked! – TSA Internal Memo

Making the skies safer, one nap at a time...

To all TSA (Travel Security Administration) personnel:

As America’s last line of defense in the fight against domestic terrorism, we have instituted the following guidelines and procedures to help our frontline personnel stop potential terrorists, preferably before they board the plane. (Once they are on the plane, it’s all in Allah’s hands. Or God’s. Or the Dutch.)

Be aware! At any time, someone could set us up the bomb!

Profiling
To this point, our “if it looks foreign, detain it” policy has served us well. However, some recent minor (but potentially calamitous) glitches have presented us with a chance for improvement. To this end we have devised the following list of “red flags*” to be on the lookout for:

*May also be “orange” or “yellow” depending on current threat level as determined by the NSA’s random number generator. Fun fact: number generator can also be used for office keno games!

Clothing and Accessories

• Unseasonably warm clothing/loose-fitting clothing – Can hide bomb components.
• T-shirts with drug references – Implicit support of terrorism/troublemaking punks.
• Abnormally large purses – Use your judgment. Some women carry these year-round as part of a generally nomadic existence.
• I “Plane” NY shirts – Just seems wrong in a way we can’t put our finger on/troublemaking punks.
• Fanny packs, man purses - Anything that can be done to discourage use of these items would seem to be a good idea.
• Open-toed shoes - Considered “unsafe” in most workplaces, doubly so in a workspace where everyone is forced to breathe the same recycled air. Also tends to indicated “freeminded” hippie types, who have been nothing but trouble since the Nixon administration.
• Diaper bags – Often filled with deadly fluids, deadly nail clippers/safety scissors, deadly powdered formula and deadly interminable stacks of baby photos.

 

"TSA officials often complete their useless pre-flight screenings by uselessly praying for their passengers' safety."

Mandatory Strip Searches

• People of a darker complexion travelling with visas
• People of a darker complexion not named Jose
• People of a darker complexion named Jose
• Women rated higher than 7.5 according to hotornot.com
• Troublemaking, sarcastic bloggers

Suspicious Activities

• Loitering
• Twittering
• Talking loudly into Bluetooth headsets
• Sexting
• Bomb or weapon assembling
• Blogging (especially “live-blogging”)
• Periphery-circling
• Post-checkpoint shoe adjusting
• Gathering of 5 or more people without the proper permit
• Fieldtripping
• Raving
• Masturbating
• Speed walking
• Complaint/lawsuit filing
• Drug dealing
• General bitching

Look kids! Bomb ingredients! And all of these can be found in your parents' carry-on bags!

Confiscatables
(Note: please post this list inconspicuously and be sure to inform travellers that the forbidden item list is subject to change at anytime, especially if they insist on being indignant or uncooperative. Use the following phrase to defuse tense situations: “You’re about five seconds from travelling to Cleveland in the nude, buster. [Use "bustette" if speaking to a female.]

Remember: Irrational fear is your best weapon. [Note: Feel free to use your actual issued weapon if need be.])

• Nail clippers
• Saline solution
• Homemade snacks
• Moonshine
• Explosives
• Lighters/matches/two sticks/flint/magnifying glasses
• Laser pointers
• Snuggies
• “That smartass mouth of yours”
• Shoelaces/belts/zippers
• Off-brand sodas
• Lifesaving medicine
• Battery-powered toothbrushes (manual toothbrushes are still allowed)
• Non-fluff reading material
• Valid photo IDs
• Keepsakes
• Rosary beads
• Anal beads
• Wallet-borne prophylactics
• Manual toothbrushes
• Opened copies of Microsoft Flight Simulator
• Artificial limbs
• 50,000+ frequent flyer miles
• Black-market kidneys
• Your dignity

In-Flight Rule Changes
As you know, we are constantly striving for a safer travel experience. To that end, we have made the following changes to our patented “too much, too late” policy of overreaction and obtuseness.

• Passengers will now line up single file in alphabetical order (last name first) and be led on-board by the on-duty air marshal, whose weapon must remain drawn for the duration of the flight. (Remember to check that the safety is safely in the “off” position for speedier overreaction time.)
• For the first and last hours of the flight passengers are to remain in a supine, spread-eagled position with fingers interlaced behind their heads. No conversation or eye contact will be allowed.
• No conversation while the aircraft is in motion.
• Passengers must ask permission to use the restroom. Tipping your restroom attendant is mandatory.
• In the likely event of an airborne terrorist situation, passengers are encouraged to “take matters into their own hands” as 1.) it has a proven track record and 2.) your air marshal will most likely be going mano-a-mano with the restroom lock or contemplating a mid-air career change.

Let’s all hope that these changes will lead us into a new era of regulated inefficiency and borderline brutality.

Remember, only YOU* can prevent domestic terrorism!

*”YOU” meaning “us” as a bureaucratic entity with far-reaching power and minimal oversight.

-CLT

Life’s Little Lessons Vol. 3

Fake plants are code for "surprisingly expensive."

Have you heard the expression, “When life gives you lemons, make lemonade?” It means making the best of bad situations. Here’s another “what if” situation for you to ponder, pulled from the 24/7 lemonade stand that is your life.

You’re out on a blind date. It’s been a pleasant evening, if a little expensive. You signal the waiter for your check.

As your waiter ignores you, you gaze deep into your date’s greyish-blue eyes. You think, “This could be it.” After several misfires and several thousand dollars, you may have finally landed a keeper.

Sure, the language barrier is slowing down the conversation and you seem to recall her profile photo being blonder and shorter, but all in all, an attractive woman.

The conversation has been a little awkward as she keeps inquiring about your personal net worth and bank account numbers. She also keeps mentioning someone named “Alexi,” who at various points is either in the import/export business, a pimp, her ex-husband or her current boyfriend.

In fact, discussion on this presumably armed and dangerous “Alexi” has chewed up a fair amount of the evening as you attempt to determine which country he is in currently and whether or not he has a valid visa.

There has also been a lively discussion about her name, which also keeps changing. The only constant that has held up all night is that she believes her full last name is “Parashkova.ru.”

Your waiter, having finished smoking a joint with the line cooks, returns to present you with your check.

$176.24!!!

Holy fuck.

There’s no way this is right.

But of course, it is. Your peroxided companion looks at you expectantly, while sneaking discreet glances at the total. Her dull grey eyes light up briefly when she spots the “$,” the only English word she’s familiar with.

You quickly do some mental math and realize that no single card in your wallet has that much remaining on it. You blindly flip through your cards and come across your “ace in the hole,” stuck between an Amway rep’s business card and a cracked condom bearing the phrase “Party like it’s 1999!”

Your Diner’s Club card, issued in 1981 and last used before the turn of the century.

The presentation of this card will remind management to have a busboy scrape that logo of the front entrance window.

Your waiter picks up the check and dubious credit card, staring at you balefully for a beat or two.

“Thanks. I’ll go have this rejected and be right back.”

Your date smiles vacantly while you gaze into the middle distance and explore your options. You also notice that all the silverware is missing from the table.

Finally your waiter returns with your card and barely-contained smirk. As you brace yourself for the inevitable, you notice that the adjacent tables are suddenly swarming with attentive wait staff, all very slowly and nonchalantly refilling water glasses.

“I’m sorry, Mr. X…” Except he says your full given name. Loudly.

“…but it is our policy to only accept REAL credit cards, not those issued in ads located near the back of the Saturday Evening Post, or those requiring a time machine and a bad moustache to verify.”

A burst of laughter escapes from one of the nearby waiters, inadvertently (and inappropriately) punctuating a patron’s anecdote, which had just gotten to the point where the surgeon found yet another inoperable tumor in his mother’s lungs.

“Our manager would be more than happy to work out payment details in person. If you’ll follow me…”

You tell Katarina Parashkova.ru that you’ll be back momentarily, gazing briefly and hatefully at her nearly untouched filet mignon/lobster combo meal and the several completely finished champagne bottles.

She tells you that she has to use the restroom. She gets up and heads to the ladies’ room, which she apparently believes is located somewhere in the parking lot.

As you and most of the wait staff make your way back to the manager’s office, you spy your vehicle passing by the front windows, driven by a pony-tailed and dangerous-looking man in an ill-fitting suit. Parashkova.ru is riding shotgun and displaying a new set of table settings.

So. What have we learned? Or more importantly, what haven’t we learned? After an experience like this, it’s probably wise to deal with only hypothetical questions for a while. It will keep you from realizing there are really no good answers to questions such as these.

Um…

…

Here’s an inspirational poster.

Ah. That's better.

Coming up next on Life’s Little Lessons:
Shoplifting: My Anti-Drug

-CLT

Volvo Courts Controversy with New Ad

[Apologies for the lack of new content or interaction. Should be back in the proverbial saddle soon. Until then, enjoy this one from way, way back. The 2nd post ever here at Fancy Plans, which is mainly an Inspiral Carpets joke wrapped in a very pale Onion skin... Originally published Jan. 8, 2009.]

Volvo is placing an edgy series of ads in top magazines around the world to tout their legendary safety record. Ad team spokesman Graham Lambert says he realizes the ads may be controversial, but that, much like with the 2-4 year age group, any attention is good attention:

“If we’re looking to stand out as a car company that has cornered one facet of the market, the copy has got to be striking. Faced with crumbling economies and a worldwide slump in spending, Volvo needs to remind people that their vehicles are still the market leader in safety.”

Ad copy reads:

“If your life and the lives of your loved ones are truly our greatest riches, then placing your family into the new Volvo is the equivalent of stashing your actual riches in the rectal cavity of a rabid pit bull. And if an offset headon collision is the equivalent of attempted theft, you can be sure that other party involved will be significantly damaged. Either way, you’ll be able to metaphorically walk away and say, “Yeah, you should see the other guy.”

Volvo is no stranger to controversy, having weathered earlier attacks stemming from leaked information relating to animal testing. The leaked documents alleged that crash tests vehicles were being stuffed with rabbits before being launched head on into walls, other vehicles and over cliffs.

The Bible: Inappropriate for All Ages

Noah's neighbors considered moving to the suburbs.

[Apologies for the deafening silence. Here's another one from the archives. Originally published May 15, 2009.]

To hear Sunday school teachers tell it, you would think the Bible is chock full of platitudes and see-through parables, all based on Peace, Love, Unity and Respect. But as you actually start to read the thing, you’ll see it has as much in common with those qualities as your local rave does. Why, it’s nothing but E’d-up teens dividing their time between rubbing on each other, asking you for drugs and trying to come up with enough pocket change to split a $6 bottle of water. Only more Biblical.

The Story of Job
In what is widely viewed by prominent theologians as a “dick move,” God tortures one of his most faithful citizens just to win a bet with Satan. God says, “Job’s my dog, yo,” and guarantees that Job won’t sell him out, no matter how bad it gets.

How bad does it get? His son and daughter and a bunch of their friends have the house collapse on them and then burn to the ground. His crops and livestock are killed. He’s covered head to toe in boils and blisters and is reduced to scraping at his skin with broken pottery. His friends taunt him. His wife leaves him (at least through the rest of this story). Uwe Boll flies in to host a film festival. Satan sits outside Job’s compound in a tank, blaring Ted Nugent’s Stranglehold and Celine Dion’s My Heart Will Go On.

His friends and neighbors stop by and encourage him to “curse God and die.” Or at least cop a plea and ask for a reduced sentence. But Job stands by his man, much to Satan’s dismay. After collecting His winnings, God rewards Job by giving him… exactly the same life he had previously. No bonus. No home version of the game. Nothing.

Oh. He also gives him ten more kids. Cause that’s the kind of thing that makes life worth living.

The Flood
In what is widely viewed by theologians as “excessive and punitive,” God destroys the world with a flood.

First, God picks local winemaker Noah to be His village idiot and has him get busy building a ginormous boat. God also shows His contempt for the metric system by making Noah use measurements like “hand” and “cubit.”

Noah dutifully clearcuts the surrounding area, heads to Home Depot for a “Cubits to Real Dimensions” converter and spends the next 40+ years on the ultimate arts and crafts project. As if building an ark in your driveway wasn’t enough punishment, his neighbors show up just to heckle him. (“20% chance of rain, tops. You want I should get you an umbrella? The hell is that, a cubitstick?”)

After finishing the Ark, Noah kicks back with a good Merlot and waits for rain. God quickly ruins his day by ordering him to gather “two of every living creature.*” After stressing the importance of boy-girl pairing, God sets Noah to his task. “Even those creatures we’re sick of dealing with?” Noah asks. “Especially those,” God replies.

This accomplished, Noah herds his family onto the noisy, cramped and foul-smelling ark. God then proceeds to “make it rain on these hoes” for 40 days and nights. Noah’s neighbors, sensing they may have backed the wrong team, beg to be allowed to come aboard (“Let us in Noah. There must be, like, 20 or 30 cubits of water on the ground. We think.”), apologizing noisily for the “umbrella thing.”

After floating around aimlessly, the Ark finally runs ashore. God says, “Hey, Noah, my main man. How do you feel about repopulating the world through massive amounts of inbreeding?” Noah says, “That’s cool, I guess. We’re kind of sick of fucking the animals.”

Sociologists agree that this was the “tipping point” that pushed the world’s ensuing population to more than 50% stupid.

*except non-related human beings

Sodom
Once again, God’s pissed and He wants to break something. This time it’s Sodom, birthplace of the Shocker. Oh, and sodomy. He threatens to destroy the entire city unless 50 “righteous” men are found. Abraham, stoned out his gourd, says, “No problem. Those dudes are all pretty righteous.” God says, “You’ve got to be kidding me. Are you stoned? Again? It’s, like 8:30 in the morning.” And Abraham says, “It’s cool. I’ve been up all night. *giggle*”

Later, God and a more sober Abraham speak again. The word “righteous” is clarified and Abraham knows he’s screwed. He begins to work his lawyer mojo and bargains God down to one. A safe bet, since the one he’s referring to is his nephew, Lot.

God sends two angels to Sodom to warn Lot and his family of the city’s impending doom. The locals gather outside Lot’s house, demanding that he send out the two visitors so they can gang-bang them. Lot does what any gentleman would do in this situation. He refuses to send his guests out.

He refuses to send the guests out but offers them the use of his two virgin daughters. Smooth.

The townspeople refuse (this is Sodom, after all) and yell something about “banging some ass we haven’t had before,” leading Lot to believe that his daughters have misled him.

God then strikes the Sodomites blind, allowing Lot and his family to escape, and proceeds to rain fire on the evildoers. However, Lot’s wife, an avid swinger, takes a look back at all the random sex she’s leaving behind and is turned into a pillar of salt. Literally. (Even metaphorically, I don’t think it means anything.)

The Illustrated David and Bathsheba Fan Fiction Collection

David & Bathsheba
David, king of Israel, while cutting thru the neighbor’s bushes one night, catches a glimpse of Uriah’s (one of his palace guards) wife, Bathsheba, as she bathes. Which is all she did, really, hence the nickname.

David uses his kingly powers of seduction to bang her a few times and, as often happens (especially in After School Specials), knocks her up.

He proceeds to do the honorable thing. He tries to talk Uriah into having lots of sex with his wife, starting immediately, in hopes that Uriah will mistake David Jr. for one of his own kids. No deal, says Uriah, preferring to follow the palace guidelines and stay with the rest of the guards (some speculation is allowed here).

David then proceeds to do the next honorable thing. He tells his general to take Uriah out to the next big battle and strand his non-marital-relationship-having ass way behind enemy lines.

Plan B works and David gets Bathsheba. Their new little bastard is born and then killed by a horrible disease, in accordance with the Hays Code.

Abraham & Isaac
God, bored shitless by an endless chorus of angelic praise, once again screws with Abraham. He commands him to head to Mt. Sinai and offer his son, Isaac, as a human sacrifice to Him.

Abraham, a true believer, hauls Isaac up the mountain mob-style, having him carry the wood and build the altar that he is to be killed on.

Isaac asks, with increasing paranoia, “Where’s the animal we’re going to sacrifice?” Abraham responds, “God will provide one, wink wink.”
“Why do you keep winking, Dad?”
“Ummmmmm… got some altar dust in my eye. Go ahead and get comfortable on that altar.”
“Why are you putting on those gloves, and that rubber apron?”
“I’m, uh, heading to the eyewash station, and I don’t want get my clothes bloody. Wet! Bloody wet!”

At the last moment, heaven’s governor grants a stay of execution. God says, “Well-played, dog. I thought you’d blink first, but you just had something in your eye. You ice cold, dog. Ice. Cold. Here, have a ram.”

For winning this game of “chicken” with God, Abraham received the reward of abundant prosperity and numerous children to spend it all. Full of good news and good “swimmers,” Abraham ditches his wife and heads out to marry his son’s cousin.

-CLT

Related writings on God and such:
What Jesus Can’t Save
The Real Story of Creation

Deep Focus, Inc.

A buddy of mine sent me an e-mail tonight. A marketing firm named Deep Focus, Inc. are attempting to trademark the term “sabermetrics”. The organization SABR (the Society for American Baseball Research) had this to say:

On January 6, 2010, the Society for American Baseball Research (SABR) filed a Request for Extension of Time to File an Opposition with the U.S. Patent and Trademark Office to oppose the request by marketing firm Deep Focus, Inc. to trademark the term “sabermetrics.” SABR is strongly against trademarking the term. “We believe sabermetrics is a generic term and should remain in the public domain,” says SABR Executive Director John Zajc. “SABR is part of a larger movement toward open source sharing of information. Having a private company own a federal trademark registration for a term in common use in our industry is not in line with that philosophy.”

Sabermetrics was coined by statistician Bill James, who first introduced the word to readers of his Abstract in March 1980, writing: “Sabermetrics is the mathematical and statistical analysis of baseball records.” Since that time, sabermetrics has become a ubiquitous part of the baseball landscape at all levels and by players, front office staff, the media, and fans alike. Most major league teams use sabermetrically derived statistics as part of their player evaluations. Members of the Baseball Writers Association of America and others who report on baseball refer to sabermetrics and its metrics on a regular basis.

In addition, the sabermetric approach has expanded as a generic term to describe the application of mathematical and statistical reasoning to a problem. Courses, course modules, and independent study in sabermetrics are being or have been taught at a number of respected colleges and universities, among them Bowling Green State University, Columbia University Teachers College, Muhlenberg University, Seton Hall University, Tufts University, the United States Military Academy, and Williams College.

The Society for American Baseball Research is an international, member-driven organization whose mission is to foster the research, preservation, and dissemination of the history and record of baseball. More information is available on SABR’s website at: www.sabr.org.

SABR (pronounced “Saber”) is an international organization headquartered in Cleveland, OH. The Society’s mission is to foster the study of baseball, to assist in developing and maintaining the history of the game, to facilitate the dissemination of baseball research and to stimulate interest in baseball.

Trademarks certainly have their place, namely to prevent others from cashing in and doing harm to your good name. What Deep Focus, Inc. is doing is the exact opposite of that. It’s a shameful attempt to extract money out of people who use the term, made doubly worse by the facts that Deep Focus, Inc. didn’t coin or popularize the term (the credit for that goes to Bill James and then the statistical analysis community centered around SABR) and that they’re attempting to profit of what should be the intellectual property of an open source, non-profit academic organization like SABR.

Shame on Deep Focus, Inc.

-RF

A Day in the Life of a Blogger

Ted's license plate indicated that he liked to be punched in the face repeatedly.

AFK temporarily. Here’s a blast from the past. (Originally published May 8, 2009.)
-CLT

8:07 am - Shortly after arriving at work, a co-worker says something particularly inane. You say to yourself, (or so you think) “That’s going in the blog, douche.”

Your co-worker asks, “What did you say?” You cover quickly, “I said I have a lot of work. To do. Over where…I do my work. Douche.”

Good save! Publish.

9:19 am – You decide to play chicken with the economy by writing a long diatribe on the inept management at your thinly disguised company.

I work for a large and evil software corporation whose products are nearly as omnipresent as Windows on houses.

Sneaky! Publish.

10:01 am – First break. The local food jobber’s circular contains some extraneous quotation marks. You mercilessly point this out.

Burn! Publish.

11:13 am – While theoretically working, you stumble across a Jesse McCartney fan site curated by a 12-year old girl. You rip the site creator to shreds in the comments, questioning their intelligence, correcting their grammar and suggesting her parents needed a better brand of birth control.

You then head to your blog to add a post ripping the site creator to shreds, questioning their intelligence and speculating on her family tree. You add a link to your post connecting you back to your original incisive comments.

Self-fulfilling! Publish.

12:31 pm – You read an article in the local newspaper about a horrific case of child abuse. You figure if anyone can find the “funny” in this story, you can. Too soon?

Never! Publish.

1:45 pm- You run across a great article on HuffPo. You add a couple of sentences and drop in a few F-bombs.

Original! Publish.

2:30 pm – You duck out of work early and head to the mall. You score a new hat.

Bonus! Publish.

3:12 pm – Some junk mail arrives with your name misspelled.

Idiots! Publish.

3:16 pm – Your electric bill has gone up for the second straight month! You rant about the electric company, their founders, the current political climate, the “man” in general and question the sexual orientation of all involved.

Outrage! Publish.

3:56 pm- You give an online phisher some key bank account information with the hopes that this will turn into a long series of investigative posts and prepare to go all Internet Batman on their asses.

Stay tuned! Publish.

4:41 pm- Even though a million bloggers have written a million words on the RIAA’s rampant jackassery, you see no reason it shouldn’t be 1,000,927.

Skewer! Publish.

5:17 pm – During your court-ordered stint with the Boys and Girls Club, some teenagers make some cutting remarks about your archaic slang and mock your love of 90’s alternative rock. Now you know what’s wrong with today’s youth. Everything!

Fuck me gently with a chainsaw! Publish.

6:11 pm – You make a particularly cutting remark to your (soon to be ex) girlfriend about her choice of outerwear. Her reaction is priceless.

Zing! Publish.

7:01 pm- Your evening plans of whiskey and XBox are interrupted by a bicycle-riding door-to-door religion salesman. After a scintillating conversation, wherein you agree to disagree, you barricade the door and blog about the many problems with organized religion.

Your post? Praying to solve a problem is only slightly less useless than blogging about it.

Goddamned! Publish.

8:03 pm- In a shameless effort to grab page views, you begin randomly tagging your posts with these selections: fake boobs, real boobs, fuck you, octomom, personal lubrication, Susan Boyle, mp3, Paris Hilton, Perez Hilton, free money, Nickelback sucks, conficker, swine flu, naked photos and Humor.

Your posts, of course, contain none of these things.

Zeitgeisted! Publish.

9:29 pm – While cutting through the park on the way to your weed dealer, you come across three dogs going at it in a way that would embarrass German porn stars. After three or four bong hits, you find a way to connect it to an otherwise uneventful day at work.

Dog eat dog eat dog! Publish.

10:17 pm- After drinking alone for several hours, you consider drunk-dialing your estranged girlfriend. Instead you decide to go all Charles Bukowski and rant semi-poetically about what bullshit relationships are. Chicks only dig assholes.

Fuck spellcheck! Publish.

11:30 pm – Buzzed up and hungry, you head to the local convenience store for some snacks. Your bank card is turned down and the clerk seems distracted by muffled yells originating from the stockroom. You return home empty-stomached and angry.

The bank will hear about this in the morning, but the Internet will hear about it tonight!

Bullshit! Publish.

12:08 am- Having exhausted any good ideas, you bang out a hyperbolic rundown of the day’s events and shove it into the blogosphere. After hitting F5 on the Dashboard a few times, you head to bed.

Pointless! Publish.

Tip of the cap to the many blogs that keep me entertained on a daily basis:
Sick Days
Stop Annoying Me
Fundamental Jelly
Prison Diary…
The Problem with Young People Today Is…
Your Religion Is False

-CLT

The Stabbing Knife Vol. 4 – Bono

Not crazy. Just stabby.

[After a 2-month hiatus, the Stabbing Knife returns! And it brought presents! Nice, stabbed little presents! Awww... And yes, I have stabbed before.]

Once upon a time, there was a nice, earnest lad named Bono. He fronted a nice, earnest band who wished to make the world a better place. Or at least improve his own country where, when they weren’t warily eyeing their potato reserves, they were blowing each other the fuck up over religious differences.

Remember this guy? So young and idealistic. And turtlenecked.

But then he grew up. And so did his band. They discarded their veneer of Christianity and set out to become the Most Important Band in the World.

They sold millions of albums and made millions of dollars.

But still Bono’s heart ached.

When he wasn’t busy counting his money or shouldering the weight of the world or getting stuck in a malfunctioning lemon, he was alone in the back of his private jet, hunched over a MacBook writing screeds against Western conspicuous consumption and how to save the planet using his bold, Irish ideals and other people’s money.

And then Bono, head steadily inching its way up his own ass, caught a fleeting, non-anally blocked glimpse at the latest P&L for U2, Inc. and got righteously pissed.

And when he got angry, he got stupid.

We’re used to his manager’s stupidity. Paul McGuinness is an idiot. He’s made a number of dubious claims and attention-grabbing statements in the effort to wring a little more money out of everybody from MSN to random ISPs to Joe Downloader.*

*Not his real name.

Here’s a few choice quotes:

“I suggest we shift the focus of moral pressure away from the individual P2P file thief and on to the multibillion dollar industries that benefit from these countless tiny crimes. The ISPs [internet service providers] the telcos [telecoms companies], the device-makers.”

On Silicon Valley:

“Embedded deep down in the brilliance of those entrepreneurial, hippy values seems to be a disregard for the true value of music.”

Entrepreneurial? Hippies? ???

His theory seems to be that the Internet service providers need to pay because they’re making a ton of money trafficking in illegal downloads.

Let’s do some math: I pay $39.95/month for my internet connection. If I download 0 free music files, I pay $39.95/mo. If I download 25,000 free music files, I pay $39.95/mo. Granted, some ISPs do tiered pricing based on use, but they’re not very popular and they won’t last for long.

Here’s some more.

On Radiohead’s pay-what-you-want release:

“It’s important to remember the traditional worldwide star-making functions of the big record companies. There’s nothing on the horizon to replace that.”

Hmmm. We can just let that one go.

Here’s a beauty:

“I started to glimpse the politics of it at that stage. I hope that our politicians, our journalists, our media gain a sense of how much we stand to lose if free prevails. Ultimately free is the enemy of good. “

...and I said, "Google, find me a metaphoric picture for obtuseness..."

But now Bono’s gone and topped him. In his latest for the New York Times, Bono suggests that we look to China for the solution to pirated media:

“But we know from America’s noble effort to stop child pornography, not to mention China’s ignoble effort to suppress online dissent, that it’s perfectly possible to track content.”

Bono doesn’t need a manager. He needs an editor. He may have thrown the modifier “ignoble” in there, but he still wants the same ends, which will then allow him to justify the means. Or to put it another way, “ignoble” when it affects Bono’s privacy but rather more noble when it’s unleashed on the thieving hordes that are The Internet. 

At what point do you decide that it’s OK for you to hold up (however badly worded) one of the world leaders in “Human Rights Violated” as a solid business model, and even worse, a solid government model?

Who here thinks it would be a great idea for the government to install tracking software on every new computer? Who thinks that the government (and their best friends, big failing media) should have the keys to everything you do online? Does anyone actually feel this will turn out well? That the wrongdoers will be caught and punished and the Most Important Band in the World can begin stocking up on ivory backscratchers again?

Or will it turn into the tragic farce that is today’s mommy-state/fucked legal system that does immensely stupid things like turn “sexting” teens into child-porn possessing sex offenders?

Bono takes a moment to reflect on how truly fucked he is financially.

The overwhelming arrogance and crass stupidity of Bono’s article boggles the mind. Just because your business doesn’t run the way it used to is no reason for you to use your considerable wealth and power to try to legislate and litigate your way back into an acceptable profit margin.

Major labels: you lost. The battle is over and the only thing you can do is lash out by harassing, fining, suing and jailing random individuals. It’s not winning you any more fans and it’s certainly not cobbling together some sort of time machine to the mid-90’s jackpot that was CD sales.

And who bitches about this lost revenue the most? The richest, fattest artists. U2, Metallica, Garth Brooks, the Cure, KISS. All of them mention the “little indie bands” as if those were the ones affected the most.

The indie bands have moved on. The RIAA, ASCAP, BMI, etc. are all taking care of lining their own pockets and the top 5% of their stables.

Bono should know better. He said it himself:

“It’s not the place for rich rock stars to ask for more money, but somebody should fight for fellow artists, because this is madness. Music has become tap water, a utility, where for me it’s a sacred thing, so I’m a little offended.”

I guess he couldn’t help himself. And his advice to the movie and television industries, which he feels are next to be downloaded to death? Do the same shit that didn’t work for us, only harder and faster.

To reiterate: Bono, a singer from a country with serious anarchy leanings, recommends an all-knowing government should start following China’s lead into a bold, new era of human rights violations and privacy invasion. Just so that he and the other top 5% of musicians can finally get more of the money that they’re already getting a sizeable chunk of.

Fuck you, Bono.

Fuck you if for no other reason than you made me end a sentence in a preposition.

-CLT

The Fancy Plans Guide to American Cars

With the recession hitting Americans in the pocketbook (and, occasionally, the groin), you need to arm yourself with as much information as possible before wandering into the nearest car dealership. Take advantage of this brief guide to familiarize yourself with some of the more popular vehicles available today, including some available yesterday.

Requires 18,000 "C" Batteries (not included)

Chevy Volt
The stillborn lovechild of GM’s on-again, off-again, frequently government-mandated love affair with electric vehicles, the near-mythical Chevy Volt boasts a 40-mph top speed and 40 miles between plug-ins.

While the American public has yet to embrace a slow-moving car that can’t go anywhere, GM (and our government) have their fingers crossed that they are only a feature-length slide show away from being converted.

Pros: Doesn’t run on pure evil fossil fuels.
Cons: Can be commandeered by any 10-year old with an RC controller.

The official Jonas Brothers' tour vehicle: guarantees virginity for life.

Pontiac Aztek
Sporting a design rejected by Hot Wheels manufacturer Mattel as “too ridiculous,” the Aztek’s odd angles and ugly-ass plastic accents appeal to the “classic gamer” type, who get all misty-eyed and nostalgic when presented with low-polygon count screenshots like this:

Featuring graphics you can cut yourself on!

Pros: Vehicle is its own anti-theft device.
Cons: Also appeals to Crocs aficionados.

Cute, impractical and surprisingly expensive. Then there's the mini-Escalade.

Cadillac Escalade
Vehicle of choice for multi-platinum rap stars and welfare recipients alike. (Note: these terms are not mutually exclusive.) The Escalade appeals to the inner showboating thug in all of us, meaning it is very popular with young, white males.

While not going through gas like Garfield through lasagna (gangbusters!), the Escalade also emits low-frequency bass mating calls that, when coupled with flashing lights and shiny spinners, often attract members of the opposite sex with low self-esteem and even lower standards.

Pros: Also available in bulletproof.
Cons: Gives police an unneccessary “head start” when racial profiling.

This Hummer shows off its patented "Fuck You" automatic parking assist.

Hummer
A symbol of American military prowess and conspicuous consumption, the Humvee is possibly the most patriotic vehicle you can buy. Although now owned by the Chinese, the new owners say they plan no major changes to the Hummer.

Unfortunately, its new heritage may adversely affect vehicle enjoyment according to J.D. Power and Associate’s latest study.

“…[n)ow when you clip a meandering mall-walker with the front bumper while jostling for a prime parking space, you may no longer feel the vicarious thrill of being knee-deep in the shit surge and running over IED-waving insurgents. This type of normally enjoyable event may instead find you empathizing with your average Tiananmen Square tank commander, as you are faced down by a solitary shopper."

Pros: Still 1st in the "Vehicle Name with Oral Sex Connotations" division, slightly ahead of the Porsche Boxster and the Chevrolet Cocksucker LE.
Cons: Goes from 0-60 mph in 7.5 gallons.

Also available in Chartreuse, Boa and Cheetah.

1976 Cadillac Eldorado
Measuring in at slightly over 112 ft. long and made entirely out of Americans, the “instant classic” Eldorado is the vehicle of choice for septuagenarians and pimps alike. Whether meandering slowly to the nearest breakfast buffet or rounding up new “interns” at the Greyhound Bus depot, the 1977 Cadillac Eldorado defines luxury and style. (To see how the Merriam-Webster Dictionary defines luxury and style, click here and here.)

Pros: 74 combined feet of front and rear crumple zones.
Cons: 35 mph top speed; blinker default setting – “Always On”

-CLT