A sad obituary

December 31, 2009

Wednesday of last week, a former employee of my unit (one who left before I came on-board) was found frozen to death in his car. An obituary was left at the main desk where I work–it consisted of about three typewritten lines detailing the date and time of the funeral, that the interment itself was going to be private, and that the man had worked at my unit.

A man’s life, summarized in three sentences. How fucken’ sad.


Don’t know where this is…

December 29, 2009

…but I’d really like to spend a vacation there.


Twilight of Virginity–When Satire outstrips the Real

December 29, 2009

Twilight of Virginity

Money Quote:

“Bella”: Look, Dad–you should be glad I still have my virginity.

Dad: I guess I can’t argue with that, can I?

Satire outstrips Reality when the plot of a porn movie makes more sense than the original movie it seeks to spoof.


Best critique of James Cameron to date.

December 27, 2009

From Steve Sailer’s iSteve Blog, the comment by Jeff Burton:

“pushing the boundaries of technology” in order to rehash Dances with Wolves and Disney’s Pocahontas.

Enough said.


…And while you’re at it, stomp on his head, too.

December 26, 2009

Another primitive screw-head has tried to blow up a plane, Richard Reid-style: Increased Security at Detroit Metro Airport. Sounds like he used of the same mixture of PETN and liquid that Reid used as well–with similar results. And, like Reid, the passengers found their balls and kicked his ass. Good for them!

Excellent commentary over at Hot Air.

A bonus from the same site: Pregnancy banned while deployed; feminists shriek. File under “Feminist Horseshit”.


The Christmas Party

December 19, 2009

Man, I’ve got a long way to go.

Company Christmas Party last night. A dimly-lit hole in the wall with loud music and an absurd number of blondes. Seriously–I thought LA was the city where they grew on trees.

I watched my behavior during the party, to determine what I need to work on. I think I’ve got most of the basics down–upright posture, hands down, no crossing the arms, etc. What I suck at is eye-contact with strange women–I kept avoiding eye contact with the women in the club. It’s hard overcoming all those years of bad habits, and it doesn’t help that I just found out that a former co-worker of mine is being investigated for sexual harassment because he stared at a female co-worker. This is the People’s Republic, after all–you can get sued at the drop of a hat. Dammit, we don’t even own our eyes in this fuckin’ state!

The bigger problem I have is my passive behavior in groups; I am not initiating conversation, and I am not inserting myself into the dynamic of the group. I’m still dwelling on the fringe of the group, and when others move on to other conversations, I find myself alone.

So much to work on.

An additional: I definitely mis-characterized the Negotiator; she’s lost the muffin-top, and she doesn’t nearly have the heavy facial features that I originally thought she had. A 7. I’ve also discovered that she’s an Adventuress (see Practical Female Psychology for an explanation. Unfortunately, I don’t feel any interest for me on her part. Sigh


I’d take this writer seriously…

December 13, 2009

….if she could tell me the name of the guy who collects her garbage.

The Tiger Woods scandal is a tale of sex — and sexism

Sorry, Ms. Givhan; I can’t bring myself to feel any outrage over the treatment of Tiger’s mistresses, because I know all-too-well how women treat beta males. Maybe when women give as much social import to garbage collectors, butchers and security guards as they do to lawyers, doctors, and corporate CEO’s, I’ll start worrying about the social image of cocktail waitresses, lingerie models and porn stars.