..I'm beggin' ya!
(Hat tip to Odie!)
September 29, 2017
More: Same Bullshit Different Shovel
This morning, the Denver Broncos came out with this incredible tureen of turd soup:
..and my initial reaction was one of flummoxed, unadulterated cynicism. As one commenter on another blog said, they only now realize they crapped in their beds and now are trying to clean up the sheets. Allow me to elaborate:
"A MESSAGE FROM OUR PLAYERS"
..a simpering, whining cry from some people who, after a week of white hot blow back from the people of this country who, to all intents and purposes, pay these dolts' salaries.
"Last week, members of our team.."
A powerful display of unity being approximately 10 percent of the total players on the NFL rosters last Sunday? Your collective strength and resolve could only influence that many? How about the Pittsburgh Steelers who showed their "strength and resolve" by cowering in the locker room like a bunch of shy school girls rather than face the music and contrary to a standing NFL rule regarding player decorum during the playing of the National Anthem?
"Make no mistake - our actions were in no way a protest of the military.."
All citizens, current military, and we veterans -- as a matter of custom, tradition, courtesy, and respect -- stand at attention facing the flag and saluting or with our hands over our hearts -- to show our respect for this country, its flag, and the National Anthem. To kneel, talk idly, do warm-ups, or anything otherwise is disrespectful to this country and those who have served, fought, and even died in her defense.
"We all can do better.."
Bulldust!
Don't put this on us! You can certainly do better. If you are motivated by "social justice", then why don't you spend the time you have off from your high-paying job and visit the neighborhoods to help those you feel are unjustly treated? If your grievance is because you believe that too many blacks are killed by police, then why don't you organize a more direct program to involve the police and the "wronged" members your community in a constructive dialog and seek to solve the "inequalities" and problems that exist instead of doing mindless virtue signalling?
Kneeling on Sunday for a minute or so is easy; taking it to the streets and backing your play with action is a lot more difficult.
"It starts with us.."
Not sure who the "us" is, but again, do not try to implicate we common folk to expiate your guilt. Maybe go to the wealthy owners and talk to them how you and they can take some time to do the aforementioned community outreach. A classic example would have been to maybe cancel more than the one pre-season game and help out with the recent flooding from hurricanes Harvey and Irma. Instead of flapping your lips or beating your gums, how about wading into the hip-deep water to help haul out a few of the citizens in Houston or on the coast of Florida?
"Our locker room is a diverse place.."
Like the world we common folk live in isn't?
We all have different values and beliefs yet a majority of us in this country seem to get along. Last November, we elected a man whom we felt could give us a chance to change things for the better. Prior to that, we racists elected a man of color whom we thought would do the same and we arguably tolerated some incredibly divisive comments from that president who sought to divide rather than unite. Yet, a large majority of us remained respectful of the office of the president in the hope that promises would be delivered on. In the latter case, it seems that the opposition is even unwilling to give the same chance and respect and support for the current president.
"Starting Sunday, we'll all be standing together.."
And, finally, I am glad you will all be standing together on Sunday. But you will need to get back to me on how all that millionaire virtue signalling pity party works out as I will not be watching. And do not count on many of us tuning in and watching the NFL either anytime soon.
I can only wrap this up by adding something that Homer Simpson probably said it best:
..and my initial reaction was one of flummoxed, unadulterated cynicism. As one commenter on another blog said, they only now realize they crapped in their beds and now are trying to clean up the sheets. Allow me to elaborate:
"A MESSAGE FROM OUR PLAYERS"
..a simpering, whining cry from some people who, after a week of white hot blow back from the people of this country who, to all intents and purposes, pay these dolts' salaries.
"Last week, members of our team.."
A powerful display of unity being approximately 10 percent of the total players on the NFL rosters last Sunday? Your collective strength and resolve could only influence that many? How about the Pittsburgh Steelers who showed their "strength and resolve" by cowering in the locker room like a bunch of shy school girls rather than face the music and contrary to a standing NFL rule regarding player decorum during the playing of the National Anthem?
"Make no mistake - our actions were in no way a protest of the military.."
All citizens, current military, and we veterans -- as a matter of custom, tradition, courtesy, and respect -- stand at attention facing the flag and saluting or with our hands over our hearts -- to show our respect for this country, its flag, and the National Anthem. To kneel, talk idly, do warm-ups, or anything otherwise is disrespectful to this country and those who have served, fought, and even died in her defense.
"We all can do better.."
Bulldust!
Don't put this on us! You can certainly do better. If you are motivated by "social justice", then why don't you spend the time you have off from your high-paying job and visit the neighborhoods to help those you feel are unjustly treated? If your grievance is because you believe that too many blacks are killed by police, then why don't you organize a more direct program to involve the police and the "wronged" members your community in a constructive dialog and seek to solve the "inequalities" and problems that exist instead of doing mindless virtue signalling?
Kneeling on Sunday for a minute or so is easy; taking it to the streets and backing your play with action is a lot more difficult.
"It starts with us.."
Not sure who the "us" is, but again, do not try to implicate we common folk to expiate your guilt. Maybe go to the wealthy owners and talk to them how you and they can take some time to do the aforementioned community outreach. A classic example would have been to maybe cancel more than the one pre-season game and help out with the recent flooding from hurricanes Harvey and Irma. Instead of flapping your lips or beating your gums, how about wading into the hip-deep water to help haul out a few of the citizens in Houston or on the coast of Florida?
"Our locker room is a diverse place.."
Like the world we common folk live in isn't?
We all have different values and beliefs yet a majority of us in this country seem to get along. Last November, we elected a man whom we felt could give us a chance to change things for the better. Prior to that, we racists elected a man of color whom we thought would do the same and we arguably tolerated some incredibly divisive comments from that president who sought to divide rather than unite. Yet, a large majority of us remained respectful of the office of the president in the hope that promises would be delivered on. In the latter case, it seems that the opposition is even unwilling to give the same chance and respect and support for the current president.
"Starting Sunday, we'll all be standing together.."
And, finally, I am glad you will all be standing together on Sunday. But you will need to get back to me on how all that millionaire virtue signalling pity party works out as I will not be watching. And do not count on many of us tuning in and watching the NFL either anytime soon.
I can only wrap this up by adding something that Homer Simpson probably said it best:
September 23, 2017
New Official NFL Helmet..
(I am adding the NFL to my target list. That makes Hillary, Shitstain McCain, and now the NFL!)
..Hat tip to HART2 over at Weasel Zippers.
..Hat tip to HART2 over at Weasel Zippers.
"Fire the Son of a Bitch!"
What complete and total balderdash! Let's break this down, shall we?
"..when we create a sense of unity in our country and our culture.."
Some self-absorbed, multi-millionaires, who play for a living demonstrate their contempt for the country. A number of the perpetrators of these demonstrations exhibit such wonderful off-field skills as illicit and excessive drug use and violence perpetrated against girl friends, wives, and friends up to and including homicide. Real role models.
"..There is no better example than the amazing response from the clubs and players to the terrible natural disasters.."
Sure there are better examples. They abound! They did contribute money and started relief funds where others can contribute. However, I do not recollect any NFL players showing up in the areas hit like the ordinary people and those such as the Cajun Navy, etc.
Please note, also, only one game was canceled (Dallas at Houston; August 31; preseason) and one game postponed (Tampa Bay at Miami; September 10; week 1) during the time periods Harvey and Irma which made landfall and did their worst at the end of August and the beginning of September. Did not see too many NFL stars or owners out there dragging people through hip-deep water.
"..Divisive comments like these.."
Seriously? I mean..seriously? Telling folks about how revered an owner would be if he called for the firing of one of his employees because he showed disrespect for the flag and the country versus the divisive gestures and acts of those who alienate their fans from their sport? I would not classify President Trump's comments as "divisive", I would call them sound business advice.
"..the overwhelming force for good our players represent our clubs and players represent in our communities."
..yeah, yeah, yeah. Personally, I see zero, zip, nada from the NFL except for a greedy, grasping agglomeration of owners and ego-suffused, infantile players who think their "game" sits higher in the pantheon of American institutions than it truly does. NFL franchises insinuate themselves into cities often by coercing equally greedy city officials to get the taxpayers of those communities to underwrite new stadia with burdensome public debt. They charge exorbitant ticket prices and parking fees and get obscene prices for their merchandise and for the rights to televise the rights to their exhibitions.
I could go on, but here I reign myself in. All of the above, while grasping and greedy, is entirely their right under the the freedoms guaranteed by the Constitution, laws of this country, and the principles of Capitalism.
But, NFL, just don't ask me to think you smell sweet after all of that bull manure you've been shoveling
September 22, 2017
Something you should know..
I posted the fact below (somewhere) that I was a life-long fan of the San Francisco 49ers -- but not any more. I dumped those assholes because they did not dump that spoilt asshole with the pubic hair glued to his face IMMEDIATELY when he disrespected the flag and the country. For the record, I subscribe to what President has to say on the subject:
Frankly, while I would respect an owner who did that, the NFL is pretty much dead to me. Again, as I wrote before, mostly because of this crap but also because I rediscovered how wonderful fresh, crisp Fall days are where you can spend time with yourself and/or your family outside walking or talking or just mowing the goddam lawn. No beer commercials, no over-hyped color commentators and panels and sportscasters blowing the trivial acts of 22 'roided-up egomaniacs on some artificial battle ground somewhere.
Naw, mate, those free fall Sundays are too rich an experience to give up now.
(Although, I do root in the sports pages for the New England Patriots to rip the skin off and shit on their opponents because Brady and the coach like Trump. But that's about it.)
Which brings me to something you should know if you did not already: Glen Coffee, a real hero!
For clarity, here's Glen Coffee's Wiki entry:
..nuff said.
Frankly, while I would respect an owner who did that, the NFL is pretty much dead to me. Again, as I wrote before, mostly because of this crap but also because I rediscovered how wonderful fresh, crisp Fall days are where you can spend time with yourself and/or your family outside walking or talking or just mowing the goddam lawn. No beer commercials, no over-hyped color commentators and panels and sportscasters blowing the trivial acts of 22 'roided-up egomaniacs on some artificial battle ground somewhere.
Naw, mate, those free fall Sundays are too rich an experience to give up now.
(Although, I do root in the sports pages for the New England Patriots to rip the skin off and shit on their opponents because Brady and the coach like Trump. But that's about it.)
Which brings me to something you should know if you did not already: Glen Coffee, a real hero!
For clarity, here's Glen Coffee's Wiki entry:
Professional career
San Francisco 49ers
Coffee was drafted in the third round of the 2009 NFL Draft with the 74th overall pick by the San Francisco 49ers. He was used primarily as a backup to Pro Bowl running back Frank Gore.
Retirement
After attending OTAs minicamp, and two weeks of training camp, Coffee abruptly announced on August 13 that he would retire just before the start of the 2010 NFL preseason. Head coach Mike Singletary stated that sixth round draft pick Anthony Dixon and veteran Michael Robinson would compete for the second running back spot and that Coffee's departure would not be a distraction to the team. However, on August 16, the 49ers signed free agent veteran Brian Westbrook as the backup running back to a one-year deal. The 49ers could move to recoup $621,000 of Coffee's $828,000 signing bonus.
Coffee planned to return to the University of Alabama to finish his degree in consumer affairs, with an eye towards graduate school. Coffee confirmed that the reason he retired was that his heart was never in football and that he believed God wanted him to take another path.
Comeback
On April 21, 2017, Coffee was officially reinstated by the NFL and was subsequently released by the San Francisco 49ers who still owned his player rights. Coffee announced his intentions to play in The Spring League Showcase on July 15, 2017.
Military service
Coffee subsequently enlisted in the U.S. Army in February 2013 to become a paratrooper.
..nuff said.
September 19, 2017
So I am just guessing..
..that when Google did one of its creepy search mastheads that it was referring to this Amelia Hernandez:
And NOT this one:
If the latter, then she's pretty buff for a 100-year-old!
Arrrrr! Talk like a pirate day be upon us..
Today is September 19th -- Talk Like a Pirate Day!
I hope you all got your T.L.a.P. shopping done on time and got your T.L.a.P. cards in the mail and are enjoying this festive season! As the progenitors will have it:
Or THE ORIGINAL Pirate:
..so, shiver yer timbers, matey. Here be Miss Purity Pinker with yer flagon o' grog!
I hope you all got your T.L.a.P. shopping done on time and got your T.L.a.P. cards in the mail and are enjoying this festive season! As the progenitors will have it:
Or THE ORIGINAL Pirate:
..so, shiver yer timbers, matey. Here be Miss Purity Pinker with yer flagon o' grog!
Clinton Crime Family
Everyone on this side of the political spectrum cowers in absolute terror of or quivers with crimson rage over the ex-Nazi George Soros and the mischief he is playing on the world scene with his vast fortunes. Currently, Soros is said to be worth approximately $25.2 billion.
But I stumbled across a post on The Gateway Pundit just today that got me to wondering how much the Clinton Foundation has under its control and -- more specifically -- how much money the grasping, greedy, scabby old bitch herself controls.
In building investigations, Daily Caller first discovered that Hillary transferred a mass sum of money from her campaign over to Onward Together:
Clinton transferred $800,000 from her failed 2016 presidential campaign to Onward Together shortly before announcing the group’s launch in May, documents the campaign filed with the FEC reveal.
Now, today, it has been revealed by Offended America exactly where that money is going:
Daily Caller reached out to five different Antifa linked groups, and only one was willing to deny donations from Onward Together. Soros-linked group, Indivisible, denied receiving financial support from Clinton or Onward Together.
“Onward Together has not given any financial support to us,” Helen Kalla, an Indivisible spokesperson, wrote to Daily Caller.
Kalla added that Clinton’s group has “been amplifying and highlighting our work through their digital networks,” which she explained has consisted of “retweeting [Indivisible], and they’ve highlighted our work via their emails to their list too.”
According to Federal Election Commission documents, Hillary Clinton transferred $800,000 from her failed political campaign “Hillary for America” to her new Super-PAC “Onward Together”, before she announced the existence of the PAC in May, 2017.
Amid other disturbing details, it’s now been revealed that “Onward Together” is a 501(c)4 “Social Welfare” organization, which means that it’s not required to disclose many of the details of its operations to the public or disclose who its donors are.
By receiving campaign funds, and then furnishing the funds to Antifa terrorist groups, Clinton may have implicated many of her supported [sic] in a crime.
Hillary Clinton, now too old to run for office, will go back to doing what she’s always done best, round up money from anonymous sources, and then use that money to influence elections and peddle power.
It appears that she is at it again and, while not on the magnitude of that old piece of evil incarnate, this unholy trio (The Queen of Denial, BeeJay Bubba, and Web Hubbel's Wicked Spawn) appears to be entering the neighborhood of major financial mischief makers with surprising alarm.
Getting to the bottom of all this is an interesting prospect -- not one I am about to devote the rest of my life to -- but, with impending retirement and its concomitant abundance of free time staring me in the face, I can easily see my turning over a rainy weekend or two to this quest for knowledge. Certainly worth investigating is why this woman still has a campaign fund in operation. Simple math based on rumors indicate that she raised $2 billion yet only open $1.3 billion in her failed attempt to win the presidency. That would leave her about $700 million as discretionary income -- which she seems to want to dole out to various institutions bent on toppling this nation.
I am sure the results of any such research will be sobering.
September 17, 2017
Fore!
Too funny! Go to You Tube and get the CNN version of this and watch the vapor locking by the CNN commentators!
September 16, 2017
Go Big or Go Home
The following is a piece I hope to publish on a blog called Bruins Nation that is dedicated to my alma mater's sports endeavors. Currently in place is a coach who is taking several millions in salary and is a desultory talent at best. His team blew a game to Memphis, 48-45, starting their annual slide into oblivion earlier than usual. Hopefully, this will occasion enough ire to get this dolt canned.
Ain't holding my breath, though.
Over on another post, I remarked that, inasmuch as UCLA football has begun its annual decent into mediocrity, I might embark on the uncharacteristic journey of becoming a USC fan. While this is heresy and I come here to more or less expiate my guilt, it happened to me once before in the late seventies when I got so-o-o-o tired of rooting against the Los Angeles Dodgers that I started rooting for them. (I was and still am a San Francisco Giants devotee having followed them since before my UCLA years.) This is by way of apology; I don't know what came over me..
.. actually, yes I do.
Amplifying my thoughts above (and I am kidding about backing USC, believe me), the only way this program will excel is if it gets cut throat, nasty, and mean and hires a head coach who has been to the dance before. We should not be paying some mid-level NFL HC or cast-off assistant millions of dollars to come in and waste his recruits' and the fans' time and the school's money. This is a big-time school whose AD and athletic department management (as well as the state school bureaucratic management) just want to get by.
I get that UCLA has an excellent reputation and that it should not compromise that, but one has to face the facts: if you want to have a winning program you need to put in place a coach and staff who has been there before and who has the fire in the belly. Mora has been in "coast mode" since his third season at UCLA. If he doesn't realize it, then he's far more pathetic than anyone can imagine. You don't take people's money like he does and turn out a substandard product year after year after year.
I know this is coulda, woulda, shoulda but anything short of burning down the program and rebuilding is time and money flushed down the crapper. You need a coach who has partied in the upper echelon and has demonstrated he knows how to get the job done. Look at USC. (I know, I know.) They are rumored to be a powerhouse again after just getting off of a multi-year probation. The guys over there are practicing, learning, and dwelling in Central Los Angeles next to neighborhoods festooned with crack houses and commensurate levels of gang sophistication. Don't you really think that, if UCLA were a consistent winner, most of them would choose UCLA and Westwood over the shit hole that is USC?
But we do not need to recruit brigands, footpads, and felons to win. Hell, we might not even be required to hire a high profile coach. (And, yes, I realize I am tearing down my central argument.) Were I Mora, I would make a pilgrimage to Tibet or Japan or Nepal or some place and party with some monks in the process of stripping my spirit and soul clean of all the encumberments. When spiritually naked, I would then look into my heart and ask myself:
"How the f**k does Stanford win year after year - even when they change head coaches?"
The answer would be like "being shot with a diamond bullet". I would realize that I do not have the fire in the belly that Furd and it's football staff and players do. (If I were being blindingly honest, I'd realize that I did not possess the requisite smarts either.)
Lookee here, fellow babies, everyone whines about the AD not spending $107 million versus $98 million on facilities. But, in the past, UCLA has had coaches who fared with far less in the way of athletic amenities that they have now. (Oh dear Lord, here's another old codger with his back-in-the-day parable.) But, consider the matters of Protho, Vermeil, Donahue (in his first 13 years), and Toledo (up until New year's Day in 1998.) All came here with a mission: to make UCLA a winner and that burned bright within them while they were here.
Tommy Prothro (coincidentally, a native of Memphis) came out of Oregon State where he had won a conference championship, a Rose Bowl, and minted a Heisman trophy winner, Terry Baker. Prothro came to UCLA and made guys who were our size -- gutty, little Bruins -- believers that defeated USC on his first try in one of the greatest games in the history of that great game. (It also gave birth to one of the greatest fan signs ever displayed in Los Angeles Coliseum history: "69% of football fans prefer Prothro Tactics to Trojans!"). His team also won the conference and and upset the number one team in the nation (MSU) in the Rose Bow. In the process, he converted a Sequoia High School single wing tailback into great quarter back -- and a Heisman trophy winner. (How's that for coaching greatness?) His record next year continued with a 14-7 win over USC and what would have been another trip to the Rose Bowl except for the politics of no-repeat or shady conference standings math or whatever. (Recommended reading is Prothro's Wiki entry.)
Dick Vermeil picked up the reins from Pepper Rodgers who, himself, had a rebuilding season and then two really good seasons before he went to Kansas. Vermeil built the Bruins into a conference champion and Rose Bowl winning team (over top -ranked Ohio State coached by Woody Hayes) in his second year before he went to Philadelphia and turned the Eagles around.
Donahue came along and was pretty impressive in the first thirteen of his twenty year career. He was 108-38-4 with four conference championships and three Rose Bowl wins by impressive margins. He won four New Year's Day bowl games in a row from 1983 to 1986. After 1989, he took his foot off the gas and coasted to a stop until he was replaced by Bob Toledo who managed to run off a string of 20 straight wins (longest in school history). When Toledo lost that [un]memorable hurricane postpones game to Miami, the wind went out of his sails and he was canned in 2002 and you-know-who took over.
Mora, while racking up three impressive seasons, has gone absolutely nowhere unless you count
San Diego, El Paso, San Antonio, and Santa Clara. He has rolled up a 1-3 record in no-name, afterthought, done-before-Christmas-or-New Year's Eve bowls. Moreover, he has demonstrated a remarkable ability to NOT win the "big" game -- be it against USC or Oregon or Standford or any other school standing squarely in the path of UCLA and a conference championship.
He is not a clutch coach by any stretch of the imagination unless you count his standing on the sidelines and clutching his throat or his heart or his genitalia! In my opinion, to be frank, it seems like the kids arrive with all kinds of talent and yet precious few improve -- or they recognize their lack of progress and opt for an early out to the pros while their market value is still worthwhile.
Look, I am getting bogged down in stats and history. I can easily get shot down with stats in this attempt to make my case, but that is pure unadulterated fertilizer. Stats are quoted by baseball teams or baseball players to try to justify their fourth place, out-of-the-money finish or the fact that a particular pitcher or hitter did not lead his team to the World Serious. Mora recruits talent that could yield great teams but fails to seal the deal. but what I am trying to say is that my [fading] memory seems to hold glimpses of UCLA teams who were coached above their ability by men who had a dream and instilled this dream into his teams. Single-wing tailbacks emerge as Heisman Trophy winners, defensive backs and running backs and line backers stay four years and benefit each year from their additional apprenticeship. A collection of talented recruits and enthusiastic walk-ons emerge as a cohesive unit with a clear view of their mission and its goal. They possess the drive and spirit to accomplish this mission. Mora's teams each year dissolve into an incoherent and confused mish-mash of injuries, missed opportunities, stammered, inadequate excuses, and a blown mission.
I think Mora's work here has run its course and it's time to nuke the whole thing and build it up from scratch. Unfortunately, we have a complacent state run bureaucracy (headed by Janet Reno, fer crissakes) and a rotund ex-baseball player as AD who seems to think that five or six wins is good enough. They are also counting on the complacent alums who subscribe to ever-increasing season ticket prices and whatever license fees or surcharges are imposed to keep the sinking ship of UCLA football afloat. They are counting on these alums to continue to show up in Pasadena, sip the Chardonnay, chum on the brie at their tailgate soirees, and hum By The Pacific's Waters nostalgically. The very same then repair to the shady side of the Rose Bowl and golf clap while the Bruins go out there and give it the old college try.
As a child of the sixties, I rubbed up against enough protesters and anti-this or save-the-whatevers to realize that tolerating the status quo -- if it is bullshit -- is, well, bullshit. Remember when someone painted "Free the UCLA 30,000" on the apartments across from the ZBT house?) Good enough is not good enough! I say reach for the stars, take no prisoners, kick ass and take names and..
..go big or go home.
Ain't holding my breath, though.
.. actually, yes I do.
Amplifying my thoughts above (and I am kidding about backing USC, believe me), the only way this program will excel is if it gets cut throat, nasty, and mean and hires a head coach who has been to the dance before. We should not be paying some mid-level NFL HC or cast-off assistant millions of dollars to come in and waste his recruits' and the fans' time and the school's money. This is a big-time school whose AD and athletic department management (as well as the state school bureaucratic management) just want to get by.
I get that UCLA has an excellent reputation and that it should not compromise that, but one has to face the facts: if you want to have a winning program you need to put in place a coach and staff who has been there before and who has the fire in the belly. Mora has been in "coast mode" since his third season at UCLA. If he doesn't realize it, then he's far more pathetic than anyone can imagine. You don't take people's money like he does and turn out a substandard product year after year after year.I know this is coulda, woulda, shoulda but anything short of burning down the program and rebuilding is time and money flushed down the crapper. You need a coach who has partied in the upper echelon and has demonstrated he knows how to get the job done. Look at USC. (I know, I know.) They are rumored to be a powerhouse again after just getting off of a multi-year probation. The guys over there are practicing, learning, and dwelling in Central Los Angeles next to neighborhoods festooned with crack houses and commensurate levels of gang sophistication. Don't you really think that, if UCLA were a consistent winner, most of them would choose UCLA and Westwood over the shit hole that is USC?
But we do not need to recruit brigands, footpads, and felons to win. Hell, we might not even be required to hire a high profile coach. (And, yes, I realize I am tearing down my central argument.) Were I Mora, I would make a pilgrimage to Tibet or Japan or Nepal or some place and party with some monks in the process of stripping my spirit and soul clean of all the encumberments. When spiritually naked, I would then look into my heart and ask myself:
"How the f**k does Stanford win year after year - even when they change head coaches?"
The answer would be like "being shot with a diamond bullet". I would realize that I do not have the fire in the belly that Furd and it's football staff and players do. (If I were being blindingly honest, I'd realize that I did not possess the requisite smarts either.)
Lookee here, fellow babies, everyone whines about the AD not spending $107 million versus $98 million on facilities. But, in the past, UCLA has had coaches who fared with far less in the way of athletic amenities that they have now. (Oh dear Lord, here's another old codger with his back-in-the-day parable.) But, consider the matters of Protho, Vermeil, Donahue (in his first 13 years), and Toledo (up until New year's Day in 1998.) All came here with a mission: to make UCLA a winner and that burned bright within them while they were here.
Tommy Prothro (coincidentally, a native of Memphis) came out of Oregon State where he had won a conference championship, a Rose Bowl, and minted a Heisman trophy winner, Terry Baker. Prothro came to UCLA and made guys who were our size -- gutty, little Bruins -- believers that defeated USC on his first try in one of the greatest games in the history of that great game. (It also gave birth to one of the greatest fan signs ever displayed in Los Angeles Coliseum history: "69% of football fans prefer Prothro Tactics to Trojans!"). His team also won the conference and and upset the number one team in the nation (MSU) in the Rose Bow. In the process, he converted a Sequoia High School single wing tailback into great quarter back -- and a Heisman trophy winner. (How's that for coaching greatness?) His record next year continued with a 14-7 win over USC and what would have been another trip to the Rose Bowl except for the politics of no-repeat or shady conference standings math or whatever. (Recommended reading is Prothro's Wiki entry.)
Dick Vermeil picked up the reins from Pepper Rodgers who, himself, had a rebuilding season and then two really good seasons before he went to Kansas. Vermeil built the Bruins into a conference champion and Rose Bowl winning team (over top -ranked Ohio State coached by Woody Hayes) in his second year before he went to Philadelphia and turned the Eagles around.
Donahue came along and was pretty impressive in the first thirteen of his twenty year career. He was 108-38-4 with four conference championships and three Rose Bowl wins by impressive margins. He won four New Year's Day bowl games in a row from 1983 to 1986. After 1989, he took his foot off the gas and coasted to a stop until he was replaced by Bob Toledo who managed to run off a string of 20 straight wins (longest in school history). When Toledo lost that [un]memorable hurricane postpones game to Miami, the wind went out of his sails and he was canned in 2002 and you-know-who took over.
Mora, while racking up three impressive seasons, has gone absolutely nowhere unless you count
San Diego, El Paso, San Antonio, and Santa Clara. He has rolled up a 1-3 record in no-name, afterthought, done-before-Christmas-or-New Year's Eve bowls. Moreover, he has demonstrated a remarkable ability to NOT win the "big" game -- be it against USC or Oregon or Standford or any other school standing squarely in the path of UCLA and a conference championship.
He is not a clutch coach by any stretch of the imagination unless you count his standing on the sidelines and clutching his throat or his heart or his genitalia! In my opinion, to be frank, it seems like the kids arrive with all kinds of talent and yet precious few improve -- or they recognize their lack of progress and opt for an early out to the pros while their market value is still worthwhile.
Look, I am getting bogged down in stats and history. I can easily get shot down with stats in this attempt to make my case, but that is pure unadulterated fertilizer. Stats are quoted by baseball teams or baseball players to try to justify their fourth place, out-of-the-money finish or the fact that a particular pitcher or hitter did not lead his team to the World Serious. Mora recruits talent that could yield great teams but fails to seal the deal. but what I am trying to say is that my [fading] memory seems to hold glimpses of UCLA teams who were coached above their ability by men who had a dream and instilled this dream into his teams. Single-wing tailbacks emerge as Heisman Trophy winners, defensive backs and running backs and line backers stay four years and benefit each year from their additional apprenticeship. A collection of talented recruits and enthusiastic walk-ons emerge as a cohesive unit with a clear view of their mission and its goal. They possess the drive and spirit to accomplish this mission. Mora's teams each year dissolve into an incoherent and confused mish-mash of injuries, missed opportunities, stammered, inadequate excuses, and a blown mission.
I think Mora's work here has run its course and it's time to nuke the whole thing and build it up from scratch. Unfortunately, we have a complacent state run bureaucracy (headed by Janet Reno, fer crissakes) and a rotund ex-baseball player as AD who seems to think that five or six wins is good enough. They are also counting on the complacent alums who subscribe to ever-increasing season ticket prices and whatever license fees or surcharges are imposed to keep the sinking ship of UCLA football afloat. They are counting on these alums to continue to show up in Pasadena, sip the Chardonnay, chum on the brie at their tailgate soirees, and hum By The Pacific's Waters nostalgically. The very same then repair to the shady side of the Rose Bowl and golf clap while the Bruins go out there and give it the old college try.As a child of the sixties, I rubbed up against enough protesters and anti-this or save-the-whatevers to realize that tolerating the status quo -- if it is bullshit -- is, well, bullshit. Remember when someone painted "Free the UCLA 30,000" on the apartments across from the ZBT house?) Good enough is not good enough! I say reach for the stars, take no prisoners, kick ass and take names and..
..go big or go home.
Holy Christ! Freddie's Nailed it Again!
Disclaimer: This is the same guy -- the professor at John Jay who was suspended for his tweets -- but, oh my God, does this guy have a pencil neck or what?
"Soon the geeks were poppin' up all over town.
You couldn't hardly sneeze without knockin' one down."
Freddie Blassie coined the phrase "Pencil Neck Geek" to describe the wimps that infect the world and environs we live in. Seems there's YET ANOTHER one of these guys; this time over at Weasel Zippers!
In case you'd like to sing along, here's Freddie's lyrics.
"Soon the geeks were poppin' up all over town.
You couldn't hardly sneeze without knockin' one down."
Freddie Blassie coined the phrase "Pencil Neck Geek" to describe the wimps that infect the world and environs we live in. Seems there's YET ANOTHER one of these guys; this time over at Weasel Zippers!
In case you'd like to sing along, here's Freddie's lyrics.
PENCIL NECK GEEK
(Pete Cicero / Martin Margulies)
Freddie Blassie
Back when I was a kid, life was going swell.
Till something happened, blew every thing to hell.
That night my daddy stumbled in, all pale and weak,
Said "A woman up the block just gave birth to a geek."
Mom said, "Sell it to the circus, what the heck."
Dad said, "Nope, this one's a pencil neck.
And if there's one thing lower than a side show freak,
It's a grit eatin', scum suckin', pencil neck geek."
You see if you take a pencil that won't hold lead,
Looks like a pipe cleaner attached to a head,
Add a buggy whip body with a brain that leaks,
You got yourself a grit eatin', pencil neck geek.
(chorus)
Pencil neck geek, grit eatin' freak,
scum suckin', pea head with a lousy physique.
He's a one man, no gut, loosing streak.
Nothin' but a pencil neck geek.
Soon the geeks were poppin' up all over town.
You couldn't hardly sneeze without knockin' one down.
After a nice juicy steak, if you need a toothpick,
Just reach for a geek, they'll do the trick.
One day we cut one up for fish bait.
Learned our lesson just a little bit late.
Soon as the geek hit the drink, the water turned red.
Next day, sure enough, all the fish were dead.
chorus
Most any night you know where I can be found.
Yeah, stomping some geek's head into the ground.
So keep the faith 'cause in Blassie you can trust,
I won't give up 'til the last geek bites the dust.
chorus
They say, "these geeks come a dime a dozen."
I'm lookin' for the guy who's supplin' the dimes.
Its gonna be real hard times for all of these
grit eatin',
scum suckin',
boot lickin',
drop kickin',
gut grindin',
nail bitin',
glue sniffin',
scab pickin',
butt scratchin',
egg hatchin',
sleezy,
smelly,
pepper bellied,
dirty, lousy, rotten, stinkin', freaks.
Nothing but a pencil neck geek.
Pencil neck geek.
Pencil neck geek.
Pencil neck geek.
Arrrr! Ha-ha!
Tuesday, September 19th is "Talk Like a Pirate" day!
And here's the progenitor of this idiom, Robert Newton, who was MOST DEFINITELY not some frotzing Nancy boy with eye makeup and effeminate affectations.
..and, as a parting shot here's a Pirate's Day riddle for you: what do you call the cross between a droid and a pirate?
Arrr2D2!
And here's the progenitor of this idiom, Robert Newton, who was MOST DEFINITELY not some frotzing Nancy boy with eye makeup and effeminate affectations.
..and, as a parting shot here's a Pirate's Day riddle for you: what do you call the cross between a droid and a pirate?
Arrr2D2!
September 15, 2017
Freddie Blassie had it nailed..
Fans of Dr Demento will remember this.
Here's old Freddie on the subject:
..and here's the Tucker interview for those who wish to suppress their gag reaction:
September 13, 2017
"The Good James" speaks..
Supplied by me co-worker and good friend, "The Good James" an actual training notice from The Great White North now run by Justin Trudeau (the Former Substitute Drama Teacher and Part-time Ski Instructor*)..
Two Spirit? Questioning? Polyamorous? How about Reaching? How about Confused? How about Absurd?
..how about Pathetic?
*see here for prime excoriation of this limp dick emasculee:
Doncha just love the throat-clearing, guttural scraping pronunciations?
Two Spirit? Questioning? Polyamorous? How about Reaching? How about Confused? How about Absurd?
..how about Pathetic?
*see here for prime excoriation of this limp dick emasculee:
Doncha just love the throat-clearing, guttural scraping pronunciations?
September 12, 2017
Predicted
I called this. (See posts below.)
..still $18 for this pole o' trash is a lot. I am holding to my prediction: B. Dalton remainder piles for $1-2 by Christmas!
..still $18 for this pole o' trash is a lot. I am holding to my prediction: B. Dalton remainder piles for $1-2 by Christmas!
September 10, 2017
Show me the money!
Ever follow a blog and get cozy with the denizens thereof, developing a rapport, fellow followers become like family, etc.? You trundle through the political wars together, lapping up the day-by-day posts and threads that skewer the absurdity of your opponents and pick your spirits up when things seem blackest?
I migrated through a lot of high-level blogs and rubbed elbows with some of the heavy-hitter commenters and -- wham! -- just when things could not be nicer, the owner of the blog gets dollar signs in his eyes and monetizes the site!
What a wand wilter!
Now, don't get me wrong! I am a raging capitalist just like the rest of youse guys and I am all for each living off the salt of their brow and the fruits of their labors. But, the thing I don't like is the unadulterated obtrusiveness of the little click-bait inserts and how they totally obliterate the continuity of what was once a perfectly fine purveyor of political screed. And, I guess the thing that send me into a tailspin is how total tasteless and -- well -- low rent some of these beauts are. See below.
These are ones that cull your cache of links and present you with stuff you are following on eBay or are contemplating purchasing at Amazon. These are terrifying reminders about how truly intrusive the machinery in the internet can be. Just be damn glad you buy your suppositories, MaxiPads, Kotex, rubbers, catheters, KY Jelly and other personal medical supplies at Rite-Aid and not on the internet!
And it continues. Magical potions that eliminate the need for exercise or diet or magical incantations or rituals that will guarantee you a lotto win in the next three months -- replete with the requisite hag or hick pic:
I was too late to capture the truly revolting pictures they sport of festering boils, ingrown toenails, blackened skin, or unruly facial hair, etc. But you know what those are like. However, below is one that keeps reappearing and has a picture of (I am guessing) Sara Palin that reminds me of someone else from Mel Brooks movie:
My last thought is I thank The Almighty the traffic is so pathetic here. I would NEVER want to inflict this trash on anyone who visits!
Hippo Hips' Future
Several more posts popped up this weekend on how this sleazy old bitch just keeps rattling on and on and on about her loss back in November 2016. I think her future as a lonely old bag lady drooler sitting on a park bench and accosting anyone who will listen is looming larger and larger.
September 9, 2017
The Eyes Have It..
Over at The Gateway Pundit, they are following up on a story out about how Hippo Flanks is YET AGAIN pointing her magical fingers of blame outward to virtually anyone else for her loss.
Well, Good on yer, you shitstained old crone. Keep 'em coming! At this rate the Christmas-time B. remainder pile at all the local B. Daltons with be floor-to-rafters with her literary diarrhea.
September 5, 2017
Same bullshit, different shovel..
Over on Moaning Joke, the newlyweds opine on Hillary Clinton's book tour..
..ten months too late!
And didja see where Hippo Flanks is again trying to wring out every last cent from her gullible followers.
But, hey, never miss an opportunity to squeeze more loot from the public. This woman is a pathetic, greedy, grasping old crone. When she croaks, her devil spawn will probably charge admission to the funeral! However, I understand her latest work has a solid rebuttal:
"Morning Joe Hosts Mock Hillary Clinton’s Book Tour: 'At Least She Found Wisconsin'"
..ten months too late!
And didja see where Hippo Flanks is again trying to wring out every last cent from her gullible followers.
But, hey, never miss an opportunity to squeeze more loot from the public. This woman is a pathetic, greedy, grasping old crone. When she croaks, her devil spawn will probably charge admission to the funeral! However, I understand her latest work has a solid rebuttal:
September 2, 2017
Melania Versus The Mooch..
Well, it's truly astounding how the press just keeps stepping all over their dicks as they parade their sheer, unadulterated hypocrisy around. This is never more evident than the constant pounding they attempt to give the current First Lady versus the previous one.
Of late, they excoriated Melania because she wore her trademark high heels down to Texas to visit with Donald Trump. (See the post I made several days ago below.) Instigator of this fit of the vapors was alleged Vogue fashion maven Lynn Yaeger who was quoted as saying, “No, Melania Trump, You Cannot Wear Those Shoes to a Flood Zone”. So, here's this grand wizardress of haute couture who supposedly hands down her imperious fashion dictums from on high; brace yourselves, she's a real piece of work:
My only comments -- after picking myself up off the floor -- are wondering how one can apply lipstick with a 75-watt soldering iron and what GoodWill store does she shop at? I would hasten to add that she must be transgender (but I am not certain male creature she migrated from to the feminine gender).
So here's the breathtaking part: they no sooner the regain consciousness from their hyperventilation from excoriating Melania than they shift gears and gush all over about the stevedore who dwelt in the "house that slaves built" and planted rhubarb on the front lawn and dragged that mangy animal all over the grounds so he could take a crap. (Here I refer to "Boo" the dog, not Barack, the Lawn Jockey POTUS!)
Seems that the Former First Wookie has taken to wearing a skirt that is slit up to her hairy armpits and now that sartorial appurtenance is the last word in fashion.
Dunno, lads and lad-ettes, if this trend continues and gravity and aging being what it is, it won't be long before some photographer has a chance encounter with Da Mooch and she goes down in the rolls of another hall of fame: The Walmartians!
ADD Melania: All of the above said, Melania is at it again. In a virtual flip-off to the media and the Creature From The Green Latrine above on a return trip to Houston, she's taken to her breathtakingly stunning fashion sense and emerged from AF ONE in those marvelous heels and one of her ultra tasteful tasteful shirtdresses - with nary an armpit in sight.
You go, girl!
Of late, they excoriated Melania because she wore her trademark high heels down to Texas to visit with Donald Trump. (See the post I made several days ago below.) Instigator of this fit of the vapors was alleged Vogue fashion maven Lynn Yaeger who was quoted as saying, “No, Melania Trump, You Cannot Wear Those Shoes to a Flood Zone”. So, here's this grand wizardress of haute couture who supposedly hands down her imperious fashion dictums from on high; brace yourselves, she's a real piece of work:
My only comments -- after picking myself up off the floor -- are wondering how one can apply lipstick with a 75-watt soldering iron and what GoodWill store does she shop at? I would hasten to add that she must be transgender (but I am not certain male creature she migrated from to the feminine gender).
So here's the breathtaking part: they no sooner the regain consciousness from their hyperventilation from excoriating Melania than they shift gears and gush all over about the stevedore who dwelt in the "house that slaves built" and planted rhubarb on the front lawn and dragged that mangy animal all over the grounds so he could take a crap. (Here I refer to "Boo" the dog, not Barack, the Lawn Jockey POTUS!)
Seems that the Former First Wookie has taken to wearing a skirt that is slit up to her hairy armpits and now that sartorial appurtenance is the last word in fashion.
Dunno, lads and lad-ettes, if this trend continues and gravity and aging being what it is, it won't be long before some photographer has a chance encounter with Da Mooch and she goes down in the rolls of another hall of fame: The Walmartians!
ADD Melania: All of the above said, Melania is at it again. In a virtual flip-off to the media and the Creature From The Green Latrine above on a return trip to Houston, she's taken to her breathtakingly stunning fashion sense and emerged from AF ONE in those marvelous heels and one of her ultra tasteful tasteful shirtdresses - with nary an armpit in sight.
You go, girl!
September 1, 2017
Proof Positive that Proof Positive exists..
Among the efforts will be returning to blogging here with an eye toward finding fresh venues and leaving behind the old and stale I have been traipsing in for the past three years. An example of the "new" is Proof Positive (above and here) that is run by a gentleman who has possibly one of the more striking banners (above) and some definitely interesting content. And, happily, he seems to by a subscriber to the "Friday" policy of posting absolutely delicious feminine forms for all of us old horn dawgs to enjoy. Looking forward to adding this blog to my normal "daily rounds"..
..starting with Woodsterman, of course. One cannot survive without a daily dose of Odie.
An now a digression into a disjointed ramble: California in what is hoped to be a last-ditch firefight to wrest firearms from the clutches of its citizens, has gone full Nazi and will be forcing us to register AR-15s or similar as "assault weapons". This little phenomenon should eventuate sometime around July or 2018. I am not certain what I shall do about it.
But, I am taking the attitude that the basic element of shooting is the single-shot bolt gun and, to that end, I became infatuated with what is now called "Long Range Shooting" or, to the testosterone-infused neckbeards on You Tube and elsewhere, "Urban Sniping". I will leave it at that except to say that I wish to push out the boundaries of self-reliance of this art by developing ("working up") loads that can get bullets on paper at 300 yards and over. Do not know if I will ever get the opportunity to shoot 1,000 yards, but there it is.
Anyway, back to my main point and that is that the election of Donald Trump by the "normal, average working stiff" has caused such a nervous breakdown among those who either basked in the supreme light of the Magic Negro's weight years or the establishment politicians so used to sucking on the sugar tit of power and money as to paint a surrealistic landscape in which confrontations in armed riots and even civil war are fast becoming a certainty.
The unglued left, so often lecturing us about how that piece of shit Obama was "duly elected" and we'd have to sit down and shut the fuck up while the Light Bringer with his glistening man-boobs systematically dismantled this country on all levels.
But now that the work has turned..not so much. One would be a fool to NOT blog about this and point out the foibles on both the left AND the right.
Which, at length, brings circuitously me to my point.
In the beginning around 2003, after a brief and desperate fling, I settled on a home blog; Ed Morrisey's and Michell Malkin's Hot Air! sometime in 2006 and rode that out until he irritated his members by going NeoCon, middle of the road, and decidedly anti-Trump. (He was GOPe all the way.) The whole thing rocketed apart some two years ago when he adopted FaceBook commenting and let all the Visigoths at the gate in to mingle with we proletariat. The a large chunk of us broke off and formed what was Hot Gas! That later morphed into The Sparta Report where it stands today.
During the election, I found that, in addition to Drudge (who was always full click bait), the keeper of the keys proved to be Jim Hoft's Gateway Pundit and Weasel Zippers. These two came out with the stuff you needed to know and had a fairly decent, if not distant, set of commenters.
But, Lordy, this was starting to get narrow and confining so I figured that I would re-expand my horizons and go back to my roots at the same time. I hope to roam around and, if there's anything interest, I look forward to bringing it to my pathetic audience's attention.
That said, I grow weary after having dealt with the Paramecium for the last week. Sack time!
The Paramecium
(I wrote this back in September or so before I retired from my place of employment about my boss. Wanted to keep it under wraps but now that I am relaxing in the shade every afternoon, I thought I'd let this see the light of day.)
My retirement looms and it will represent approximately 48 years in the work force -- off and on, mostly on -- from a Summer job as a Junior at UCLA and basic programmer at the Southern Counties Gas Company in Monterrey Park, California to my U. S. Air Force assignment as 5135B (senior programmer) and 5144B (systems analyst) working at the Directorate of Command Control/War Plan at Strategic Air Command HQ at Offutt AFB in Nebraska during the Viet Nam War and beyond.
(So, there it is. The reason I chose War Planner as a sobriquet and title for this blog.)
It included a quarter century of consulting and contract programming with companies like McDonnell Douglas, Hughes Aircraft, Datsun and Nissan, Mitsubishi, Mazda, Toyota, Carter, Hawley Hale, TRW, Southern California Edison, and on and on and on so far into the past that the memory dims and the mind reels.
But it's coming to an end on 10 October 2017 and, although, I will probably do pick-up work here and there (developing software the correct way as opposed to working for so many idiots with their decidedly "trailing edge" concepts and impedementia forced on me), I will largely engage in amateur radio and shooting projects and -- yes -- go back to blogging in an effort to chronicle the lunacy and sheer hypocrisy that has overtaken this nation.
The company I currently work for is a nice enough company with a great deal of very nice, well-meaning individuals and, truth be told, after enduring over forty years of slings and arrows of outrageous fortune (all accrued to the government in the form of taxes), I am glad my last days of labor at the Thracian Lead Mines will be in their company.
But the bane of my professional existence there is my immediate supervisor who shall go nameless and featureless because, while not nameless, he is profoundly featureless. It is here that I choose to offload my frustrations and vent -- in relative anonymity -- while these frustrations are still clear in my mind. I am sure I am not blameless I this relationship, but -- fuck it -- it's my blog so he can write his own blog to vent about me or others. Here goes:
His method of management is to show up in the mornings, shut himself in his office virtually all day long and practice what I like to call the "bring me a rock" style of management. (You know, where the boss tells you to bring him a rock to which you oblige and he tells you its the wrong size so, when you bring a bigger one, he tells you it's the wrong shape, and then the wrong color, etc.)
You become a modern-day Sisyphusian wage slave, trudging back and forth from the quarry in an effort to satisfy this capriciousness. Of course, the gambit here is that you are never correct in your choices and the boss enjoys the sublime luxury of fostering the myth that he is an intellectual giant ministering to uneducated proletariat.
But the fact remains, in this particular individual's case, we all see through his games and his fecklessness, his absolute inability to plan, organize, and marshal his resources and charges in a coherent effort and to engage in any sort of consistent leadership whatsoever. Efforts mounted, missions accomplished, goals achieved are despite him not because of him.
Explanations, proposals, discussions of resolutions to him meet with an initial gaze and a minute spark of intellect first evident in his eyes. But that quickly fades as his orbs grow dark and his lids visibly droop and his body English just screams of wanting me (or anyone) out of his office so he can close the door and resume the interminable telephone conferences with -- whom? -- carrier reps or other such nabobs as may stimulate the minor lobes of his brain? It is as though he literally shrinks form the light and wants to crawl into the darker corners of the pond in which he is trapped.
Consequently, I have dubbed him the "Paramecium".
It is this last point that is particularly galling to me. We are currently rolling out a rewrite of an EDI eligibility system for the company that will supersede some piece of shit that was patched and modified and maintained well beyond its useful life. It is fraught with terminal code rot as business rules have sprouted, grown, and died but are still patched in and kept on life support. During all this, I was hauled in from time to time to engineer the half-assed solutions proposed by this ninny who, as I had discovered long ago, developed relationships with our carriers and our admin departments yet either does not have the vision nor mental capability to forge all of this knowledge and any good will derived from these associations into the comprehensive "grand plan" to refactor, re-engineer, and re-write.
Instead this mirror-fogging, mouth-breather slogs along with his imperfect, non-dynamic, Rube Goldberg contraptions "from day to day to the last syllable of recorded time, it being a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury and signifying nothing".
I could go on and describe how this dimwit laps over into a desperate effort to maintain his position and reputation by usurping others achievements, stealing the glory, and upstaging and undermining his charges. For all of his idiocy, he has developed the talent of passive-aggressivism to a moderate degree. Although, truth be told, I hold a black belt in that discipline and, should I employ it, he would be left as nothing more than a pile of bloodied pork cutlets festering and drawing flies in the noonday sun.
Anyway, since I have a little more than thirty days left to toil under his questionable authority, when I turn in my time, my role will change from that of daily laborer to transfer agent of knowledge and technique to the poor bastard who will toil on in my absence.
There, I feel so much better -- and you have come to know The Paramecium.
My retirement looms and it will represent approximately 48 years in the work force -- off and on, mostly on -- from a Summer job as a Junior at UCLA and basic programmer at the Southern Counties Gas Company in Monterrey Park, California to my U. S. Air Force assignment as 5135B (senior programmer) and 5144B (systems analyst) working at the Directorate of Command Control/War Plan at Strategic Air Command HQ at Offutt AFB in Nebraska during the Viet Nam War and beyond.
(So, there it is. The reason I chose War Planner as a sobriquet and title for this blog.)
It included a quarter century of consulting and contract programming with companies like McDonnell Douglas, Hughes Aircraft, Datsun and Nissan, Mitsubishi, Mazda, Toyota, Carter, Hawley Hale, TRW, Southern California Edison, and on and on and on so far into the past that the memory dims and the mind reels.
But it's coming to an end on 10 October 2017 and, although, I will probably do pick-up work here and there (developing software the correct way as opposed to working for so many idiots with their decidedly "trailing edge" concepts and impedementia forced on me), I will largely engage in amateur radio and shooting projects and -- yes -- go back to blogging in an effort to chronicle the lunacy and sheer hypocrisy that has overtaken this nation.
The company I currently work for is a nice enough company with a great deal of very nice, well-meaning individuals and, truth be told, after enduring over forty years of slings and arrows of outrageous fortune (all accrued to the government in the form of taxes), I am glad my last days of labor at the Thracian Lead Mines will be in their company.
But the bane of my professional existence there is my immediate supervisor who shall go nameless and featureless because, while not nameless, he is profoundly featureless. It is here that I choose to offload my frustrations and vent -- in relative anonymity -- while these frustrations are still clear in my mind. I am sure I am not blameless I this relationship, but -- fuck it -- it's my blog so he can write his own blog to vent about me or others. Here goes:
His method of management is to show up in the mornings, shut himself in his office virtually all day long and practice what I like to call the "bring me a rock" style of management. (You know, where the boss tells you to bring him a rock to which you oblige and he tells you its the wrong size so, when you bring a bigger one, he tells you it's the wrong shape, and then the wrong color, etc.)You become a modern-day Sisyphusian wage slave, trudging back and forth from the quarry in an effort to satisfy this capriciousness. Of course, the gambit here is that you are never correct in your choices and the boss enjoys the sublime luxury of fostering the myth that he is an intellectual giant ministering to uneducated proletariat.
But the fact remains, in this particular individual's case, we all see through his games and his fecklessness, his absolute inability to plan, organize, and marshal his resources and charges in a coherent effort and to engage in any sort of consistent leadership whatsoever. Efforts mounted, missions accomplished, goals achieved are despite him not because of him.
Explanations, proposals, discussions of resolutions to him meet with an initial gaze and a minute spark of intellect first evident in his eyes. But that quickly fades as his orbs grow dark and his lids visibly droop and his body English just screams of wanting me (or anyone) out of his office so he can close the door and resume the interminable telephone conferences with -- whom? -- carrier reps or other such nabobs as may stimulate the minor lobes of his brain? It is as though he literally shrinks form the light and wants to crawl into the darker corners of the pond in which he is trapped.
Consequently, I have dubbed him the "Paramecium".
It is this last point that is particularly galling to me. We are currently rolling out a rewrite of an EDI eligibility system for the company that will supersede some piece of shit that was patched and modified and maintained well beyond its useful life. It is fraught with terminal code rot as business rules have sprouted, grown, and died but are still patched in and kept on life support. During all this, I was hauled in from time to time to engineer the half-assed solutions proposed by this ninny who, as I had discovered long ago, developed relationships with our carriers and our admin departments yet either does not have the vision nor mental capability to forge all of this knowledge and any good will derived from these associations into the comprehensive "grand plan" to refactor, re-engineer, and re-write.
Instead this mirror-fogging, mouth-breather slogs along with his imperfect, non-dynamic, Rube Goldberg contraptions "from day to day to the last syllable of recorded time, it being a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury and signifying nothing".
I could go on and describe how this dimwit laps over into a desperate effort to maintain his position and reputation by usurping others achievements, stealing the glory, and upstaging and undermining his charges. For all of his idiocy, he has developed the talent of passive-aggressivism to a moderate degree. Although, truth be told, I hold a black belt in that discipline and, should I employ it, he would be left as nothing more than a pile of bloodied pork cutlets festering and drawing flies in the noonday sun.
Anyway, since I have a little more than thirty days left to toil under his questionable authority, when I turn in my time, my role will change from that of daily laborer to transfer agent of knowledge and technique to the poor bastard who will toil on in my absence.
There, I feel so much better -- and you have come to know The Paramecium.
Recursion
Those of you who are software developers -- particularly C/C++ -- know, or should know about recursion. It is basically the programming equivalent of a bird flying in an ever-diminishing spiral (and what spiral is not ever-diminishing?) until it eventually flies up its own asshole.
Here is a recursive function in C++.
..and here is the concept for real.
Have a shot of Old Rebel Yell; it'll calm you down.
(..courtesy of 90 Miles From Tyranny .)
Here is a recursive function in C++.
..and here is the concept for real.
Have a shot of Old Rebel Yell; it'll calm you down.
(..courtesy of 90 Miles From Tyranny .)
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