Archive for the ‘Things I Hate’ Category

Well, maybe not killing now but it will eventually. Listen, I love basketball but you have to call this. You have to. What is the rationale for not? I don’t get it. MAKE THE CALL!

 


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So Carrot Dogs are a thing now, and I believe this may be the beginning of the end of humanity. From the Washington Post:

This plant-based take on hot dogs gives carrots a roasted red pepper treatment: Char (either on the grill or under the broiler) and steam them, and then peel off the skins. They end up nicely cooked and lightly smoke-tinged, making them perfect for a cookout. Choose the largest, thickest carrots you can find; they shrink during cooking, and you can always trim the narrow end to fit the bun. Serve these carrot dogs nestled in buns with the toppings such as vegetarian chili, cheddar, chopped onion, sauerkraut, kimchi, pickles/relish, ketchup and spicy mustard.

Oh for the love of God. I swear I didn’t even know carrots had skins, but the idea of a charred skinless carrot sounds disgusting. And I don’t care how much cheese, chili, and spicy mustard you put on a skinless carrot, it’s still a skinless carrot.

Note: I always have people messaging me telling how wonderful crap like this tastes. Save it. Also, I know regular hot dog ingredients include chicken trimmings and sheep casing. I don’t care. They’re delicious. 

It may be the most epic baseball playoff matchup in history, and it didn’t even involve a pitch. As reported by GametimeCT.com, a Southern Connecticut Conference baseball quarterfinal between Amity and North Haven was postponed due to weather, but still earned a result when the two teams decided to play rock-paper-scissors to decide a winner. The lighthearted battle went 11 rounds, with North Haven eventually emerging with a 6-5 upset victory with a deft use of scissors.

The issue is that whether the teams wanted it or not, the result won’t count in the official SCC logs. Per GametimeCT.com’s Peter Paguaga — whose “game story” may be the most epic piece of baseball prose of the past calendar year — the SCC commissioner’s office is now determining whether to accept the rock-paper-scissors result as the equivalent of an actual baseball game.

The odds of that ruling coming down in the affirmative are probably small. In short, it ain’t happening. Still, the creativity employed by both teams, and the enthusiasm of using a unique way of deciding a result during a time crunch, likely brought more enjoyment than anything else either could have done. And if enjoyment is the entire goal for high school sports, which is allegedly the most genuine and earnest form of athletics, shouldn’t that be enough to justify accepting a rock-paper-scissors battle as a bona fide baseball quarterfinal result?

Uh, no. No, it shouldn’t. But let’s digress a little. Soooo, you’re saying that winning a game of Rock-Paper-Scissors would be more fun than, you know, actually winning the game by using the skills you developed in practice to get better at the game you love? What’s next, deciding a basketball game by playing a game of Hungry Hippos?

Sweet Mother of God.

On a related note, if the SCC Commissioner allows this to stand he should be beaten with rocks, stabbed with scissors, and suffer a thousand paper cuts.

Heaven help us all.

Here’s the hotly contested, intense, character building contest:

Note: I refuse to believe these kids thought this would actually count as a game. No way.

Well, so much for Wedding Day being all about the bride, huh? Listen, everyone knows how I feel about this sort of stuff. Maybe I’m being old fashioned here, but l say the bride should get all the attention and not some assclown with his guitar. It’s not about you, idiot. At least save it for the reception.

PS- This ranks right up there with the groom who showcased his soccer skills by kicking a ball up the aisle. Good grief. 

PPS- Hell, I could have shot free throws to show off at my wedding.

PPPS- Correction: Weddings.

PPPPS- November Rain does have a killer guitar solo though.

Nothing worse than late people. They’re selfish and basically telling you their time is more important than yours. Anyway, love the tweet.

CBS Boston – Julia Hartwell loves her dolls, arts and crafts, and like most four-year-olds, she has a best friend. However, that’s not a term Julia can use at Pentucket Workshop Preschool in Georgetown. Her mother, Christine Hartwell, says, “The teacher told her she couldn’t say that in school.”

The Georgetown preschool offered an explanation to Julia’s parents, saying the term best friend “can lead other children to feel excluded” and it “can ultimately lead to the formation of “cliques” and “outsiders.” The preschool wrote, they “encourage children to have a broader group of friends, and foster inclusion at this particular age.”

Oh, for the love of God. Now the schools are telling our kids they can’t have “best friends.” Hey, I met my best friend Dave Allen in second grade and we remain best friends today. Sure, he’s a highfalutin (that’s how you spell it, I looked it up so shut it) doctor in the big city who only sees me at his convenience, but still.*

My point is, who in the hell can tell us who our friends are? Answer: Nobody. If you have no friends you need to take a look in the mirror, amirite? Newsflash: Everyone is not popular in preschool. Some are better at coloring, others are really good at somersaults or counting or drawing circles and stuff. Figure it out, man. Carve out your niche. Learn how to make friends without your damn school’s help. Sad really. Get it together, America!

*Just kidding, J.R.

Where’s an 18-wheeler when you need one?

Yeah. This view right here.

Just a quick note for all you guys out there that drive those giant trucks. You know, the ones that have tires taller than my little Veloster that I affectionately call Ruby. Yes, I named my car. Deal with it.

Anyway, here’s the deal. Today I was pulling onto Bridge Street getting ready to turn right. I was on a two-lane road going one way, so Giant Truck Guy could pull up beside me to turn left. Now, I had to simply turn right onto the street, but Giant Truck Guy had to cross traffic to turn left. Do you have the visual or have I completely screwed this up? OK, to the 12% of you that are still with me let me proceed.

What does Giant Truck Guy and 99% of all Giant Truck Guys do in this situation? They pull up right beside me, or maybe a little bit in front of me, so I can’t see a damn thing. See, Giant Truck Guy, you can literally see over me, but all I can see is the writing on the side of your giant front tire. Hence, I cannot turn left without risk of getting t-boned by an oncoming soccer mom van, all because of your inconsideration. Is there a solution to this problem, you ask? There is. Simply stay back a tad so I can see around the front of your giant grill. After all, from your vantage point you can undoubtedly see to Lake Erie, so this shall come as no inconvenience to you.

See? Easily fixed. Thank you and good day.

So here we are. It’s 2018. Apparently everything has to be a big production now, amirite? I mean, we actually have something called Kindergarten Graduation. What, little Miles stayed within the lines when he colored that dragon? Aren’t you supposed to graduate kindergarten? Has anyone ever failed kindergarten? Yet we have a graduation? Why? And what are kindergartners graduating into? First grade?

Anyway, back in my day we had one graduation – when we graduated high school.

And I know, I sound like one of those “get off my lawn” guys lamenting about the good old days. To that I say deal with it, it’s my website. And hey, you are reading this, so there’s that.

But back to the point that everything has to be a big production nowadays, and how it differs from when I was in school. Let’s do this . . .

Today, there’s such a thing as a “promposal.” I’m being serious here, it’s a real thing. Let’s say a dude wants to ask a girl to the prom. Keep in mind it doesn’t have to be somebody he’s never dated, it can be his girlfriend of 7-years. Doesn’t matter. He still has to come up with a promposal to ask his girl to the prom, and it has to be spectacular, like a unicorn showing up with the invitation taped to its horn. OK, maybe I’m exaggerating a little, but you do see a lot of stuff like this:

Please. You know how I asked Tonya Primer to the prom when I was in high school? Honestly I can’t remember but I’m guessing it happened when we were watching The Towering Inferno or something at The Fiesta drive-in theater:

“Hey, the prom is in a few weeks. You wanna go?”

“Sure. Hand me a slice of pizza.”

And that, ladies and gentlemen, was my promposal, circa 1974.

Note: Kids also do this for Homecoming, the Christmas Dance and when going to Krispy Kreme for some Apple Fritters. OK, maybe I made that last part up.

And hey, what about the new “Gender Reveal Parties” that are all the rage? [Insert your own Bruce/Caitlyn Jenner joke here]. You can’t simply find out if your baby is a boy or a girl and tell your friends the next time you run into them, you have to throw a party and have the big reveal! Woot! It’s a boy! Or girl! Whatever. I actually read about one such party where the woman smashed a piñata and it exploded with pink confetti, revealing to all that the baby was a girl. I got chills typing that, except not really. Honestly, not only do I think these parties are dumb, I think that watching couples trying to out-cute each other with party ideas is the height of comedy. Seriously folks, not everyone is as excited as you are about every detail of your child’s life, let alone its pre-life. Just because it’s important to you doesn’t mean it’s important to everyone else. B-a-a-a-c-k it up a little.

Back when I was born I’m pretty sure I popped out, the doctor held me up, took a look, said, “Hey, it’s a boy!” and that was that. Mom then took me home, put me in a crib and went out to chop some wood or something. Hey, people were tougher back then.

Anyway, promposals and gender reveal parties? Not a fan.

PS- This is sort of hard to believe, but it wasn’t until the latter half of the 1980’s that women in the United States began routinely finding out the sex of their babies before birth. Seriously, I looked it up. That’s wild, man.

 

 

Nope.

Rueters: No one loves the Home of Unlimited Soup, Salad, and Breadsticks as much as one Arkansas couple who has decided to name their daughter after Olive Garden. When Justin and Jordan Garton found out that they would be having their first child in December 2017, they knew they wanted to give her a name with “Italian origins,” ABC News reports. After considering and then rejecting the name Olive Garton, they landed on the much more subtle Olivia Garton. Soon after marrying in 2015, the Gartons bought Olive Garden’s famous “never-ending pasta pass” for $100, allowing them to eat unlimited amounts of pasta and guzzle countless soft drinks at their local restaurant for a set period of time. For six to seven weeks, the couple ate there every single day. Because of Justin’s Italian roots and their love of the eatery, when the couple found out they were expecting, they knew they wanted to give their first child an Italian name. For a while, they considered naming her Olive but ultimately decided it would be too much — they feared kids would bully their daughter named after the Italian eatery. When they landed on Olivia, though, they both knew “immediately” that it was the one. In their minds, that’s a less mockable pun. The couple also landed on a middle name, Michelle. Her initials will be OMG.

Hey Justin and Jordan Garton, let me give you some advice. If you don’t want your kid bullied, don’t name her after an Italian restaurant chain. And what will you name your next kid? Redd Lawbster? Crakker Barrell? Buffelow Wildwing? PF Chang? Wait. That last one might actually work.

And OMG for her initials? Nah, that will never get here picked on.

On a related note, I shall now give my Top 5 restaurants you could name your kid after and it would be cool:

  1. Bonefish
  2. Carrabba
  3. Longhorn (boys only)
  4. O’ Charley
  5. Benihana

Thank you and goodnight.

Not the actual lion but a man can dream, right?

Daily Mail: A big cat poacher has been killed and eaten by the pride of lion he was hunting at a private game reserve in South Africa. The hunter was heard screaming for help as he was attacked at the Ingwelala Private Nature Reserve in Hoedspruit outside Phalaborwa. But the lions quickly killed their victim and devoured most of his body before being chased off, leaving his head untouched. A hunting rifle was found close to what was left of the blood drenched body. 

Man, what a great way to start the day, huh? It’s like Christmas morning up in here. Nothing is better than an animal turning the tables on bad humans. Nothing. Hey, Mr. Poacher, how do like me now? Oh, that’s right, you can’t like anything because all that’s left of you is your head! Hahahahaha! Karma baby!

PS- You know those lions left that head on purpose. Talk about sending a message to the poaching community. Boom. Bring it on, poachers.

 

So Tom Brady sent this gem out yesterday, just to remind us that he’s Tom Brady and we’re not, that he’s married to a super model, and they’re about to get cozy on some island in the Caribbean. Just cocky as all hell. But hey, Tommy? You can’t deflect attention from the fact you lost that Super Bowl, big guy. Plus your shoes and shorts combo sucks.

A few years ago I wrote a lukewarm widely acclaimed blog called 9 People I Hate at Rock Concerts. It included idiots like people who sing too loud, text during the show, bitch about the opening act, stuff like that. Do yourself a favor and read it. Well, recently another habit has reared it’s ugly head at concerts, and it is not pretty. Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you Tablet Guy:

Ever notice how sports talking heads have to constantly beat us over the head with useless statistics? Just mindless, meaningless, dare I say counterproductive information that actually leave us dumber in their wake?

Yeah, me too, and I’m sick of it. Theretofore, today begins my war against this useless drivel that rains down upon us on with alarming regularity. First off, some stats are so ridiculously obvious they’re worthless. To wit:

“Golden State is 89-0 while leading by 23 or more points with less than a minute to play in regulation.”  

Gee, ya think?

Other stats are even more witless. I shall now point out a few examples of what I may or may not have heard on TV and radio over the past few months but I quite possibly may have simply made up. Either way, you’ll get my point.

I hope. Let us begin . . .

“Jimmy Joe Snorkelwhipple is the 2nd player to have a triple-double on Christmas Day whilst wearing a man bun.”

“Artie ‘Goatface’ Mortlingdickle is the 3rd player to gain 100-yards on his 25th birthday while wearing #32 and having the nickname ‘Goatface’.”

Max Smorkendoodle is the 7th player to hit a home run while playing against a team with 3-players named Henry who have sets of triplets named Michael, Mika and Mickey.”

“DeShawn Jackson is the 33,510,113th player to play professional sports while being pursued by a Kardashian.”

Incidentally, I made up those names. Didn’t want you think those were actual professional athletes. But you get the picture, right? Do we really need the dumb sports stats? I think we do not.

I mean, can’t you make up a statistic about anything? For instance, I just created this stat about me, which happens to be true:

“Dave Shoemaker is the first Paint Valley basketball coach in history named Dave Shoemaker to coach a team that defeated Southeastern and Adena a week prior to eating 37-shrimp cocktails on Christmas Eve while owning a dog named Sparky who once won a fight with a coyote.”

See what I mean? Dumb.

In the interest of my blogging integrity I shall now give you actual, real-life stats given by actual, real-life sports announcers. Be amazed.

“He was the second pitcher in the last 83-years to win 13 more games than he lost for a team finishing 13-games or worse under .500.”

83-years? Really? On a related note, I had to read that 5-times before I sort of understood it.

“He’s the first player since 1912 with 50-doubles and 50-stolen bases in one season.”

So we’re combining doubles and steals to make up a stat? What’s next, foul balls and ear hair?

“He’s the first catcher over the age of 35 to hit .330 with 20-homers and 85-runs batted in.”

So let me get this straight. There could be another catcher over 35 with 25-homers and 80-RBIs? See what I’m saying? Geesh.

In conclusion, I give you one more meaningless statistic:

“What you have just read is the only blog written on December 26th, 2017 that contained the words Snorkelwhipple, Mortlingdickle, Goatface and Kardashian.”

God I’m bored. I need a nap.

Source – A professor at Boston University has proclaimed Christmas carol favorite “Jingle Bells” to be a “racist song” and is urging people to shun the jaunty tune. Kyna Hamill, a theater history professor at Boston University, recently told the Boston Globe that the venerable Christmas song has a “secret” racist past that has been “systematically” hidden from Americans as they celebrate the Christmas season. Hamill claims the song, written 160-years ago by James Pierpont, was written to ridicule black people and was first performed in a blackface minstrel hall in Boston in 1857. The professor said that her study of the history of the song proved that the song was made to satirize how black people reacted to winter activities such as sleigh riding. 

Wow. And here all these years I thought the song was about riding in a one horse open sleigh and laughing and jingling all the way and whatnot. Now Kyna Hamill has gone and ruined it for me. Seriously, how in the hell can a song be racist when not one person on earth sings it with that intent? Answer: It can’t be.

PS- I also read where “Baby, It’s Cold Outside” was totally about date rape. I don’t understand anything about anything anymore.

I swear I get dizzy looking at some of these. People, man.

[click to scroll through the photos]

Ladies and Gentlemen, it is with great pride that I announce this . . . From Elyria, Ohio, here’s your 500th ASSHAT OF THE DAY! Milestone city! My Asshat Patrol’s tireless efforts have made a difference, as parkers all over the world are thinking twice before parking like an asshat! My tenacious patrol will continue to take the fight to enemy in parking lots, public streets and anywhere people park their vehicles.

Thanks to Asshat Patrol member Bob Sims for busting this historic asshat!

Washington Post: Mammalogist Tyrone Lavery has learned of a giant rat known to locals as Vika that lives in the trees, is a foot-and-a-half long, and has teeth so sharp it can punch through a coconut. Yes, the Vika is very real.

Its scale-covered tail, great jaws and a few rare photos were revealed Wednesday in the Journal of Mammalogy.

Uromys Vika is the first rodent species to be discovered in the Solomon Islands in nearly a century, at the end of Lavery’s long search.

He was first drawn to this chain of hundreds of islands in 2010, as he researched mammals at the University of Queensland. Far off the coast of Australia, the Solomons are renowned for elusive, unique species that evolve in near isolation from the rest of the planet — like the Guadalcanal monkey-faced bat.

The PhD student was sitting around a fire with village elders on the island of Vangunu, in the thick-forested caldera of an ancient volcano. As rice and sweet potato cooked in the flames, Lavery recalled, he asked the elders what things he might find in the forests.

“They told me about this giant rat they called Vika,” he said. They said Vika lived in the trees, was a bit smaller than a possum, and was so strong it could chew through thick-shelled Ngali nuts.

And then one day in late 2015, back in Australia, he got a phone call from the island. Loggers in a camp outside the village had felled a Kapuchu tree — particularly prized for its wood. After the tree hit the ground, something big and brown came scampering out of it. The loggers knew an Australian scientist had been searching for Vika for years, and word of the animal spread through the village.

Two friends of Lavery — John Vendi and Hikuna Judge — managed to catch the animal.

It looked like an adolescent, and it had lost part of its tail in the fall or subsequent capture. Still, it was estimated to be a foot-and-a-half long, and might grow to weigh more than two pounds — four times larger than your average garbage rat.

Well, sweet Jesus. This is all we need, right? Monster possum-sized rats that live in the freaking trees? That’s just horrifying. But hey, they can only bite through coconut shells and thick-shelled Ngali nuts, so nothing to worry about.

PS- That Guadalcanal Monkey-Faced Bat is downright petrifying, huh? Looks like someone experimented with a Chihuahua and a Fruit Bat.

Her kids saw it first: A woman, pants around ankles, defecating before the Budde family’s Colorado Springs home.

Then it happened again. And again. And again. And again. And again. Each week brings a fresh pile of excrement to the sidewalk in front of Cathy Budde’s home, she told local station KKTV — at least seven so far. Budde calls her “The Mad Pooper.” Police remain baffled. The family feels helpless to stop her.
“I came outside, and I was like, ‘Are you serious?'” Budde said of the time she caught the woman, a jogger, in the act. “‘Are you really taking a poop right here in front of my kids?’ She’s like, ‘Yeah, sorry!'”

Then the woman jogged away. She leaves only confusion, and also the paper towels that she wipes with.

Even in a world wrought with senseless violence, the Mad Pooper’s antics astonish. There’s a portable toilet at nearby John Venezia Community Park.  A gas station not far from that. So then why? Why the Budde family? And why now?

These questions haunt Colorado Springs residents, and the officers sworn to protect them. “For someone to repeatedly do such a thing, it’s uncharted territory for me,” Sgt. Johnathan Sharketti of the Colorado Springs Police Department told KKTV.

Listen, for me there’s almost nothing more disgusting than someone doing #2. Can’t deal with it, won’t deal with it. At basketball camps I’d walk up three floors of the dorm just find a private bathroom. And I’m still scarred from that time I was a freshman in high school and walked into the boys locker room to find Sammy Dickey sitting on the toileteating a peanut butter sandwich. That’s a sight that will be burned into my memory forever. Hell, I couldn’t eat peanut butter for 2-years. On a related note, I may or may not have broken up with a girl because she kept leaving the damn bathroom door open. Nothing, and I mean nothing, kills sexiness like seeing a woman taking a dump. So, if anyone deserves the death penalty it’s the Mad Pooper. Dead serious. Lethal inject that serial defecator, and do it immediately upon her capture.

PS- Ewwww.

California – Controversy erupts at Vista Del Lago High School in Folsom over students chanting “USA.”

It’s a popular way to for students to show pride during sporting events and rallies, but school and district officials are now warning students that the chants could appear inappropriate and intolerant. The chants are now causing chatter campus-wide after school staff brought up the topic to a leadership class.

The school’s principal told students and parents that sometimes “We can communicate an unintended message.” She also said USA chanting is welcome, but it may be best to do it at what she says are appropriate times, like following the national anthem or the Pledge of Allegiance.

The district says there has never been a complaint about USA chants at the high school. Students say there’s likely to be a lot of chanting at this Friday’s football game, where the theme is USA pride.

Well for the love of all that is holy and good WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON? We can’t be proud of out country? And who in the world is a USA chant going to offend? The three foreign exchange students from North Korea? The ISIS guy hiding under the bleachers? I’d say no to both because they’re not at the game and if they were we should do it anyway because WE’RE IN THE USA! Sweet Mother of God.

PS- The first person who blames this on wimpy liberals is going to get punched in the throat by this non-wimpy liberal.

So a 17-year old photographer named Eagan Tilghman released pictures of a creative photoshoot he did with his 3-year-old brother Louie, and the results look nightmarishly chilling. Click at your own risk.

(Source) — A former Los Altos High School student and baseball player is suing the school district and his former coach for hundreds of thousands of dollars because the coach repeatedly benched him. According to the suit, the school’s head varsity baseball coach, Gabriel Lopez, repeatedly refused to let 17-year-old Robbie Lopez, no relation, play throughout his senior year. The suit claims this constituted a pattern of “harassment and bullying.” The teenager and his parents are seeking $150,000 or more, according to the suit.

Sigh. And so it continues. If this is bullying, do you know how many of my former players could sue me? I’ll give you the answer – hundreds. Good God, man. Newsflash, Robbie Lopez – it’s your coach’s job to bench you if you’re not playing well. Hell, using this logic every kid on the bench could sue his coach. That’s just dumb, man.

PS- In the future every coach will be required to play every player an exact even number of minutes. Then nobody will get their feelings hurt. Awesome.

Namibian media say an elephant trampled and killed an Argentine who was in a group of hunters tracking a herd of elephants. The Namibia Press Agency said the hunter, identified as 46-year-old Jose Monzalvez, was killed on Saturday afternoon in a private wildlife area 43-miles northwest of the small town of Kalkfeld. The agency said Monzalvez, who worked for an oil company, was with another Argentine and three Namibians when he was killed. It says one of the elephants charged before the group was able to find a spot to aim and shoot.

No fair! No fair! The elephant didn’t give Jose Monzalvez time to find a spot to shoot! What kind of hunting rules are these Namibian elephants playing by, anyway? That’s bogus, man. Everyone knows the animal is supposed to just stand there while the hunter takes his time to murder it, man. Play by the rules, animals!

PS- This seems to be happening more and more. Animals, man. They’re fighting back. Next we’ll hear about a squirrel hunter getting a vein ripped out of his neck and bleeding out under a walnut tree.

PPS- Can’t wait.