Wasn’t There a War Going On?

It’s still pissing me off that the most newsworthy items of the week have been Anna Nicole Smith and Britney Spears.

Alright, Anna Nicole Smith is DEAD. She’s been dead for well over a week now. I think it’s time her fifteen minutes of fame ended and you move on to the fact that our soldiers and DYING IN A WAR!

Britney Spears shaved her head. That’s all that needs be said on it. She did something crazy and stupid AGAIN. Why does everyone care so much? The baseball team at my school shaved their heads once because they made playoffs. Cancer patients lose their hair because the chemo. Some people are just bald because they’re old. Hair loss it common. It happens.

Last I checked, we have thousands of troops marching around in a foreign country to protect our freedoms. I thought that was newsworthy, but apparently it’s not. We have thousands of people dying of genocide in Darfur. That’s not top news either. Hell, there are hundreds of thousands of people living and dying on the streets but we have to focus all of our attention on Anna Nicole Smith and Britney Spears.

Way to go America. You’re the greatest.

Every Now and Then

It’s rare that I stumble across a story in the news that plugs in the life support keeping my faith in humanity alive.

http://www.cnn.com/2007/WORLD/meast/02/14/shubert.hospital/index.html?eref=rss_topstories

According to this, the staff of this hospital hasn’t been paid fully in nearly a year, but they still keep their hospital running as best they could. In fact, the doctors that were getting paid higher than the other gave up some of their wages so the poorer staff members could get the money they needed to support themselves and their families.

I can’t imagine that hospital charges people a hell of a lot. If they do, they don’t expect to get any money back. After all, more than half of Palestinians live in poverty.

 I suppose it takes a special breed of people to keep going under those conditions. I doubt you’ll find any hospital in the United States doing that. We just wish our doctors were that awesome. I mean, we have such advanced medical technology, but we pay out the ass for it.

That’s why I’m waiting for some sort of vaccine against my appendix exploding and my tonsils dying. I can’t get insurance, and I’m not paying them money to cut me, especially not that much money.

Hundreds, thousands of dollars to remove an organ that doesn’t even have a use anymore.

Thanks, Uncle Sam and Ronald Reagan, for making my health care impossible to obtain.

Is it over yet?

I worked a five hour shift at work yesterday. I usually use this long period of time in which I do nothing to catch up on the news because they always have at least one tv on FOX news. Unfortunately, the news was gripped with the death of Anna Nicole Smith.

It’s living proof–well, I can’t say living proof–that everyone’s a saint when they die. Few speak ill of the dead, but everyone is free game when they’re alive.

How horrible. We should change the old saying.

If you can’t say anything nice, wait until the person’s dead and you’ll think of something.

I like that. Pure genius.

Anyway,  I accomplished my greatest achievement last night in the three months that I’ve been working at Buffalo Wild Wings.

We have a set of pagers, things that vibrate and light up whenever your food or table is ready, and the amount of these pagers has been slowly dwindling. Well, a group of assholes (excuse the colorful language) had been waiting there for twenty minutes to get their food, because we use the pagers primarily for takeout orders. When they got their food, they tried to take the pager in retaliation for having waited so long.

And I chased that bastard down! He got halfway across the parking lot, but I caught him! We only have about 8 pagers left, so I was going to be damned before someone stole another one.

I deserve a raise. None of the other hostesses would have chased that guy across the parking lot just for a pager.

I hope that I will be making $6.50 by the end of next month.

Hm. Interesting.

Why do we consider the death of Anna Nicole Smith to be breaking news? If my grandmother dies, I’m sure it would be a few hours before someone told me and it certainly wouldn’t make more than the 150 word obituary ripple in the newspaper.

The Sweet Scent of Cancer

Creative Writing Journal for January 24, 2007

I once sat next to a girl who believed she could smell cnacer. When I apologized, she looked confused. “You must be choking on your own rank stench,” I explained, “because cancer has obviously turned your brain to a tumor.

Retarded ass people. I’m sorry, but uncontrolled cell growth does not have a particular smell. For the love of God!

I hate it when you make an obvious joke but no one gets it. I hate it because it leaves you feeling like an idiot for having said it and being appalled because no one else understood it.

Example. A woman eating at Buffalo Wild Wings made a comment that her food must be multiplying because every time she looked down, she didn’t seem to be making a dent in the amount. To that her waiter replied, “Really? You know, there was a guy about two thousand years ago that did the same thing?”

The woman, being an average American citizen, exclaimed, “Really? Who was it?”

That honestly shouldn’t have been so surprising and it wasn’t. It’s really just painful. My heart breaks every time I watch Jaywalking because it proves that it’s futile to teach our children because they’ll have whatever knowledge we give them stolen by pop culture fads and half-witted celebrities.

If I think about it, though, I know why we teach them. We teach our children with the fleeting hope that one child anywhere in the world will grow up and not become an idiot.

Modern Trash

I hate poetry, but that’s probably because I can’t be bothered to stop long enough to interpret it. To me, everything must just sounds like everything else. Poetry these days is just people trying to imitate poets before them, writing about ordinary things in a style of grammar and language they barely understand.

It’s like modern artists. They beat their faces against a canvas until some interesting smear of blood appears, name it something like “Hunger Pains of a Starving Artist” or “A Field of Sunflowers,” and sell it to some wealthy family in New York looking to decorate their expensive apartment with lavish, modern trash.

There are no more great poets, artists, or orators. There hasn’t been a sane person for years who could shape the world with his speech or demand attention with just a single word. Those who possess this ability obtained it from a pact with Satan who always adds a lust for power and socially disfunctional mental disorders in with his deals. They start cults, fear the government is persecuting them for their religion, fight or take to seclusion, and die before their later years.

Maybe we could have that sane orator if we could actually speak English. This butchered form we call our English language is just word vomit. Stinky, nasty, dirty word puke that clogs the toilet at Buffallo Wild Wings.