Misanthropaea

Failed Comebacks

'Gimme that pint, uh... Jesus...'
'Pint of Jesus?'
'Huh? Naw, man, a pint of... uh... gimme a... fuck...'
'I can't do that.'
'What?'
'I don't give a fuck.'

***

'How much is your two dollar Paul¹?'
{*sigh*} '...Two dollars.  Plus tax.'
'What's tax?'
'The part I bet you don't have.'

***

'Gimme that small thing, baby.'
'Oh if I only had a dollar for every time I've heard that...'

***

'Yo, dawg, what's Budweiser²?'
'An Anheuser-Busch product.'

***

'How much I owe you?'
'One fifty-nine.'
'What you got there?'
'One sixty?'
'How much?'
'One sixty.'
'How much was the beer?'
'One forty-nine plus tax, one fifty-nine total.'
'What I give you?'
'One sixty.'
'How much more you need?'
[Pause]  'Ten cents.'
'How much for two?'
'Twice as much.'

***

'What up, dog?'
'1988, Was (Not Was).'

1. Paul Masson Grande Amber Brandy
2. Yes, I realise that this is a request for a long-winded recitation of the various prices & sizes.

Mean You What Say

Can you hear that sound?

That is yet another death knell for the English language.

Thanks, CNN!

A Brief Aside From Ro-Man

I must only blame myself.

Clearly a considerable and egregious error was made on my part by not providing within my previous report the fullest possible explanatory notes which, by their very omission, has lead to an obvious misunderstanding and some great confusion.

This will not happen again.

My vaguely optimistic outlook for the long term usefulness and advancement of your peculiar species has, so it would appear, harboured an unanticipated complacency and, indeed, I have quite tragically underestimated the inherent ability of many of you to grasp the rudiments of provided instructions--a lack of foresight which has been illustrated quite literally through the enclosed document:

It seems, in retrospect, unfathomable to me that even the most painfully essential act of basic extrapolation--an ability of fundamental acumen often exorcised by the simplest of creatures across the vastness of the inhabited universe (yes, even the Twerm)--has met with such resounding and spectacular failure on your part due to one tiny moment of inattention on my part to absolutely every subtle nuance and bit of minutia. 

This error has been viewed as unwarranted paralipsis by Guidance Ro-Man. I have received a stern warning regarding my indolent adherence to The Plan. You may observe this for yourself:

I must not fail, so it would behoove you to pay closer attention.

That is all.

Ro-Man's Helpful Household Tips #8

From the dawn of time, every sentient life-form to have ever existed, every civilisation to rise and fall or to have passed on into the distant mists of myth and memory was able to make rapid advancements through the development of a systematic means of transferring both formal and informal information; to express thoughts both abstract or concrete; to communicate by the use of structured sounds their hopes, their dreams, their desires, and to make these ideas known to others of their kind.

The creation of a spoken language, even in the crudest most rudimentary form, will swiftly elevate a given species to yet another rung on the long ladder towards evolution and, one might surmise, enlightenment.

Oral tradition, however, is simply the beginning. Once a species have progressed to such a point that the spoken word proves cumbersome and unwieldy in the face of transmission on a much larger scale, or in circumstances where absolute clarity becomes paramount, or when the survival of specific knowledge becomes critical, the next obvious phase is to then codify this arrangement of complicated sounds into a more portable, palatable, lasting, and instantly recognisable format.

Thus the development of a system called 'writing.'

The manner by which 'writing' functions is that an otherwise arbitrary group of forms or figures is chosen-- by mutual consensus --to represent the various sounds of the oral communication and a specific meaning, or series of meanings, is then assigned to any number of assorted arrangements of these figures resulting in, for example, the reciprocative understanding of such concepts as 'rock,' 'cloud,' 'tree,' or 'stupid fat kid.'

Whether crude pictographic representations or a clearly organised alphabetical system, the form of written language can only function properly and consistently if the symbolism and representative meanings are then reinforced by accurate and repetitive use and-- most importantly --if the meaning is shared amongst all potential users by any number of educational mechanisms. To those individuals who exist beyond the parameters of a given societal segment, however, or to anyone who does not possess the proper means or methodology to translate or decipher this cultural-specific code, the written form may present itself as a mysterious (though ultimately meaningless) jumble of squiggles and blobs, an incoherent mass whereby one might look at, for example...

Thus it becomes, by necessity, incumbent upon the individual to acquaint themselves, lest one entirely abrogate their societal bounds, with the systematic interpretation of the symbolism if there is to be further communication.

The written code is developed to make things easier, understandable, clearer, and, if nothing else, concise--all for the greater good of the species. And it also exists so that long-winded and copious expository and explanatory information (such as this) need not hinder the process by which trade or commerce is conducted. Observe the following examples: 

One could surmise that, looking at Subject A, an individual might initially be compelled to enquire 'What is a Cafe au Lait?'  Yet, in anticipation of this very query, a description (either in a pictorial or written form which uniquely clarifies and represents that which preceded it) is provided so that it negates the necessity of the planned query through the pre-emptive measure of already explaining the topic, inasmuch as offering the information that a 'Cafe au Lait' is, in fact, 'Coffee and steamed milk.' Additionally, a 'cost' or how much 'money'--explained in previous discussions--one will be requested to produce in effort to attain said product is provided to further simplify the 'transaction.'

Similarly, when confronted with an overpowering desire for a 'Mixed flavor whippy ice milk' (Subject B) one can ascertain quite easily just what this particular item is and what the 'price' of it is without needing to seek the assistance of another merely by the studious and industrious application of one's very own optic organ (wherever they are located and in whatever configuration they may present themselves) and a moment of simple deductive reasoning. Additionally, for you, hu-man, as this is entirely for your edification (as the rest of the Universe have quite got the grasp of this essential concept long ago) there is often the irritating necessity to aim a single raised digit and point in aid of completing the revelatory act, much akin to the bizarre and inexplicable behaviour of turning down the volume on your mobile electromagnetic radiation frequency receiving and translation devices when looking for a specific address during the act of driving, as if somehow there is a critical inter-connectedness between the two.

As we have foreseen and understood (another evolutionary step you might someday decide to take) that there will undoubtedly be some incessant need to copiously reiterate this information in future communications as the process of learning slowly and begrudgingly imprints itself upon the thin membrane of your cerebral cortex, we have taken the liberty of preparing a small, succinct, and much more portable reference guide to which you and others of your species may turn as the need arises.

A lot.

Ro-Man's Helpful Household Tips #7

Oh, Hu-man...Hu-man...

It saddens me so.

We go through this again and again, yet you do not ever seem to learn or comprehend or retain anything that is bestowed upon you for your progress and betterment. Is this perhaps a previously undetected congenital defect that is becoming aggressively pandemic in your species? Is this merely obstinance? Does your small carbon-based mind truly grasp that there are traits which will forever position your species firmly at the foot of the long evolutionary ladder of enlightenment and condemn you to an eternity of metaphorically looking up the dresses of the more advanced races and giggling like drooling imbeciles?

Yet here we are again.   

Let us, as your fine Earthly elixir called Schlitz once proclaimed,  'Go for the gusto' and face this issue one last time. Let us at last overcome the fear of change and challenge ourselves to resolve, forever, another misstep in the evolutionary dance.

There is, despite your misguided thoughts to the contrary, a very specific reason that the curious rectangular pieces of paper in which you sadly misplace so much confidence called 'money' often look remarkably similar to the image provided to your other left and, equally, a reason that you receive heavy sighs and looks of extreme annoyance from the low-wage-earning beings you so wrongly look down upon who do your bidding. (Though, to be candid, if it were not for this poorly mistreated servile class of beings you so effervescently treat with such jubilant disregard to your own smug self-satisfaction, one wonders how you might ultimately fare were it necessary for you to do for yourself those clearly reprehensible things such as preparing foodstuffs and various acts of requisite sanitation that you so wrongly believe remains far outside the purview of the imaginary elite.)

Yes, Hu-man, the reason your superfluously imperative 'money' appears so absolutely dissimilar in every conceivable fashion to the image supplied there on your other right is due, once again, to your implacable refusal to correctly administer the extraordinary functionality of the one item which allows you to perform such things as the effortless completion of astonishing technological advancements such as 'Channel Surfing;' to quickly flip through dog-eared books and magazines; to cunningly expel nose goblins on a wide trajectory from your speeding automobile or into random unseen areas of your dwelling or the dwelling of those whom you visit when no-one is looking; to experience masturbatory glee without clumsy manipulation and navigation or any complicated instruction or assistance; or to illustrate, in the manner of your iconic Arthur Herbert Fonzarelli, your marvellously innate ability to loudly and correctly pronounce the first letter of your alphabet.

That is The Opposable Thumb.

In the spectacularly well-researched and copiously illustrated manual, The Opposable Thumb & You, A Users Guide, Ninth Edition, Newly Revised and  Expanded  (figure A), the opposable thumb, as you can clearly read for yourself in the indicated entry, is what elevates you from your tree-dwelling and not entirely bipedal or articulate ancestors and saves you the embarrassing misfortune of having to swing from tyres and fling your faeces about to show your dominance.

What? You don't read Vorlon? Oh, Hu-man... Must everything be spelt out for you..?

Fine. Fine, then.

The standard-issue primate thumb, indicated to your other right, is entirely too short for the adequate and convenient manipulation of your paper 'bills' and the often associated 'coinage' inherent to the exchange transaction. And yet, if used improperly, your otherwise immeasurably practical Opposable Thumb becomes a thoroughly useless appendage as well, rather like the head on many members of your genus, and you are then reduced to errantly swatting about crumbled wads of paper due to the suddenly decreased ability to deftly utilise your hand-to-eye coordination or you brutishly 'monkey-hand' items--that is to say, pushing them about with the knuckles in short jerking motions as if the very act of touching them is somehow anathema.

Conversely, the skilful, adept, and ultimately correct utilisation of the Opposable Thumb brilliantly allows for the more adroit mastery of many basic motor skills and frees the cognisant higher functions of the brain from the dutiful bounds of slavishly inept fumbling and allows it to concentrate on important and far more useful functions such as working out bits like time dilation theory, torsion physics,  and understanding your fascination for watching vehicles make high speed left turns for prolonged periods of time.   

The Opposable Thumb is your key to unlocking the greater and far more profound mysteries of the vast and remarkable universe, Hu-man.  It is not often that a single physiological and evolutionary anomaly jettisons an entire species from chest-thumping dung flingers to pasty Wii players in a galactic blink, so take care not to spoil it for the rest of the sentient beings.  Please consult Tip #4 again should this problem continue.

Round & Round

'Do you have anything in decaf?'
'Sure. I can make virtually anything decaf. What would you like?'
'Well, something decaf.'
'...riiiight...such as...?'
'I dunno. What do you have?'
'Just about anything you like. I can do a decaf mocha, a decaf latte--'
'Yeah, I don't really want a coffee or anything.'
'Well, what would you like, then?'
'Well, something. But not like coffee or anything.'
'...I have a decaf chai.'
'A what?'
'A decaf chai. It's a spiced tea, mixed w--'
'Naw. I don't like tea.'
'Well, then we have smoothies--'
'Are those hot?'
'No. They're cold drinks made in a blender.'
'Naw, I want something hot.'
'Okay...'
'How about this here thing--the One Thing?'
'That's a green tea chai--'
'Oh. Yeah, I don't want tea.'
'I understand.'
'What do you have in decaf?'
'...I can make...virtually anything...decaf. What would you like?'

Ro-Man's Helpful Household Tips #6

O silly hu-man, silly hu-man race...

Cognition and retention in the more advanced sentient races has once and for all negated, if not entirely bred out, the useless and pointless need for endless repetition of similar topics, yet You-- there in the blinding refulgent epicentre of Your spectacularly microcosmic myopia of Planet You --continue unabated in Your unquenchable thirst for having painfully basic and widely-grasped essential knowledge crammed mercilessly down Your  Most Majestic throat.

Please, try to keep up. As  Frankie and Benjy have been quoted in the past, 'You can even teach a pig a trick...'

Although one might admire the apparent unspoken compliment that my eyes are so perfect that, Kal-El-like, I can see through various objects, the sad truth is that I cannot. This was a source of much chagrin in my formative years as I strained to see through concrete into the girl's shower at school, but that is for another time.  And the chances that You, Your Vast Splendiferousness, are indeed a cartoon cat (Felis Silvestris Catus Hilaris) are equally as unlikely. Therefore, as a courtesy to us both, when asked to see a photographic representation of You (and yes I realise that no hu-man made photographic device can truly capture the breathtakingly Divine Essence that is You), please spare us both the embarrassment and take just one tiny moment of Your intensely busy life and open the carrying case which contains the various detritus which defines the veracity of Your existence.

And yet this task is not quite as easy as it might first appear. Is it? No, no.

The fact that You are indeed walking upright (often a miracle of epic proportions) is one of the first awkward steps which separates all of the higher-functioning beings in the vastness of the universe from their more backwards ancestors. This is true of all sentient beings, not merely You and other carbon-based ape-descended life-forms. Not that walking upright is anything special, really, but it makes footwear so much more functional and keeps the Cobblers happy.

But in that first shaking step towards greater awakening, You remain frozen, clinging to the wispy belief that You alone are the glittering fiery core of all things self-absorbed, falsely assuming that those all about You should either simply recognise Your Spectacularness and leave You in peace or that everyone round You ought to somehow be able to distinguish You from all the other lowly hu-men grunting and shuffling across the planet's face by the shimmering light obscuring the tenuous photographic evidence of Your equally tenuous existence.

And yet when faced with the clearly distasteful alternative, succumbing to the irritating realisation that the person in the apron across the counter from You utterly and obstinately refuses to evolve more quickly and attempt to see through the cunningly-devised obstructions and encumbrances so very carefully thrown in place, You still insist on the further misuse of another of the items that divide You from the past--the opposable thumb. Yes, hu-man, I understand that getting the hang of its practical application provides You with many endless hours of frustration and agitation, but if You would just read the provided manual Your New Opposable Thumb, Newly Revised and Illustrated we would not be having this discussion a second time.

Honestly, hu-man, despite Your self-righteousness and self-imposed seclusion from civil interaction, there are still those beings spanning a trillion worlds across the endless dark expanses of the universe who would be completely satisfied to scoop out Your tiny skull and use it as a chamber pot and never once realise that You were ever anything but so much meat on a stick.

As appalling as the idea may be, people who do not even know how special You are--out there on Planet You--are sincerely looking out for Your Best Interest. Shocking, isn't it?

Late Christmas Deliveries

'How's it going?'

'Pretty good.'

'Anything else for you?'

'Damned Christmas shoppings gonna fuckin break me.'

'Oh.'

'Got the wife a new hearing aid; she ain't been able to hear worth a shit in years.'

'Oh.'

'Yeah, she finally got to hear the toilet flush an got all excited.'

'Oh.'

***
'Hello!'

'....'

'How are you today?'

'....'

'Is there anything I can help you find?'

'....'

'Yeah. Okay. I'll just stand here and pretend I don't exist. Feel free to continue to ignore me...'

Minutes tick slowly by, and then the mannish woman with the mustache and bad haircut waddles towards the register. In her outstretched left hand she is carrying a half gallon of TGI Friday's Mudslide--carrying it in the same way I have seen gorillas slinging luggage or other ungainly objects in TV Commercials:

'Is that going to be all for you?'

'Is this like Bailey's?'

'Uhm...no...It's nothing like Bailey's...'

'Bailey's is too expensive.'

'We have other stuff like Bailey's that's less expensive.'

'Really?'

'Sure.' As we walk towards the shelf I had vaguely indicated, I realise that she smells like old wet cow. My sister has lived on a farm for thirty-odd years. I know that smell. I am holding back the urge to vomit. 'We have Saint Brendan's, Carolan's--'

'Do they taste like chocolate, too?'

'Not really, no.'

'I like Bailey's because it takes like chocolate,' she explains, wheezing from the long six foot journey.

'Bailey's isn't even remotely chocolate--it's Irish cream.' (And there's no Santa, either).

'What's that?'

'Irish cream? It's a blend of Irish whisky and cream.' (The cow says 'Moo').

'Nah, I want chocolate. This'll do.' She wheels round a bit unsteadily on her small objecting shoes, holding the TGI Friday's bottle up as if she'd just won The World Cup. She is upwind now and I am dying. 'I only drink two times a year and that's on Christmas and New Year's--'

'Anything else for you?' I am trying not to seem too rushed.

'--and I like chocolate. Everybody wants me to drink and drive--'

(Imagine!) 'Fourteen eighty-three.'

'How much?'

'Fourteen eighty-three.' (The year you graduated).

'I thought the sign said thirteen something?'

'Thirteen ninety-nine, plus tax.'

'Oh well,' she shrugs and begins digging out her money which she promptly throws on the counter the very second I reach for it. Man, I love that game! 'But I don't do that no more.'

'What?'

'Drinkin and drivin. I won't do that no more! I do all my drinkin at home. I could get picked up for a lot of things--' and she does this Fat Bastard I'm dead sexy move and I suddenly start tasting my breakfast again '--but drinkin and drivin ain't one of them.' And she laughs. Dear gods. Those tooth. And that breath. I reach for the Apple-Cinnamon air freshener. 'Yeah. Lotta things I can get picked up for.' And she gives me this conspiratorial look as if we just made a secret bond.

'Huh.'

Stupid Shit I Heard Today

*While pointing at a sign which stated that 24 ounce cans of Magnum malt liquor are on sale for 94 cents: 'How much is your 99 cent beers?'

*Pointing at the Captain Morgan Spiced Rum: 'Is this the Captain Morgan?'

*Continuing to point at the Captain Morgan Spiced Rum which he had been told was, indeed, Captain Morgan Spiced Rum: 'Now that's the spiced kind, right?'

*Pointing at the neon orange starburst SALE! sign for the Captain Morgan Spiced Rum which he had been told was, indeed, the spiced kind of Captain Morgan Spiced Rum: 'Is that on sale?'

*Further pointing to the neon orange starburt SALE! sign for the Captain Morgan Spiced Rum upon which was written in black marker the price of $21.45 after he had been told that, indeed, it was on sale for $21.45: 'Oh wow! Twenty-one forty five!? Is that the regular price?'

*'What would one point one three litres be?'

*'How big is this bottle?'

*After a pause after saying 'No' when asked if he wanted a bag for the smut magazines he was buying and then asked if he needed anything else: 'Can I get them in a bag?'

*'I am not gay and never have been.'

Ro-Man's Helpful Household Tips #5

I understand that, as a basic human life-form, there are certain functions which You find particularly difficult to perform given the severe limitations of Your carbon-based and not yet fully evolved brain: hitting the centre of the big round porcelain water chair and not wiping up the sunny yellow bits afterward; placing a fresh roll of paper towels in the holder in favour of simply leaving the cardboard tube sitting there with little glue-coated strips of paper dangling uselessly off it; noting that the giant yellow triangular sign with the word 'Yield' written on it doesn't mean the same as 'Merge...'

And I understand also that, in Your shiny delusional world wherein You are the blinding, refulgent centre and the most important person ever on the face of Your small blue-green planet, all others of Your kind are so much cattle to be used and mistreated for Your betterment and amusement. But here is something You do not understand, Your Most Majesticness: the reason You are being asked to show Your identification when You use Your credit card is not because anyone thinks You are under the legal age to actually have or use a credit card. Oh no. The shoe leather skin and the sixteen ounces of Brut (by Faberge) in which You have gloriously overindulged long negated that consideration. It is not because anyone believes You are special. It is not because anyone wants to casually determine Your age and memorise Your address so that they might send You a card on Your birthday or holidays. It is not because they are interested in knowing more about You.

It is because they are trying to protect Your identity.

Not in the 'Clark Kent Is Secretly Superman But I Will Never Tell' sort of way, but in the 'I've Never Met a Susan With Such a Full Beard Before' sort of way.

So when You are asked to prove that You are, in fact, who Your credit card claims You are, do not hold it so far back that someone will have to use binoculars to read it. This was very likely not a personal request from them for You to assist them with an impromptu eye examination because they were feeling inadequate. It is to assist You.

Conversely, Your Most Glittering Perfection, one might presume that they do not need to have Your identification personally and permanently emblazoned upon their eyeballs for all eternity (though I realise this must come as a quite a shock to You in Your Perfect Hello Kitty World of Sunshine and Buttercups and perhaps it is even a bitter disappointment), nor do they need it to blot out the sun and everything within their entire field of vision as if it were some grandly magnificent supernova of Your Vast Incredibleness.  Again, this was not a request for You to test their visual acuity, so there really seems to be very little need for You to thrust Your card angrily into their faces so that it nearly becomes a meaningless blur without coherent context for the shapes and colours.

Neither does there seems to be any urgent need for You to test anyone's patience nor their inherent ability to contort themselves into various uncomfortable or impractical positions by holding Your licence (or whatever preferred manner of identification it is You determine acceptable to carry in Your Miraculous Specialitude) in any of the various positions seen in examples A through F. According to the most recent revisions to the Encyclopaedia Galactica, no current sentient race makes it a habit to read upside-down. It is also widely known that, though a great many races and species do indeed write in columns of text running up and down, they do not, as a matter of course, find it necessary to tilt their heads to uncomfortable angles to read that text. One might also point out that, very much unlike Your Earthly Criss Angel who performs such astonishing feats to obtain obscene amounts of rectangular greenish paper and scantily clad females named Gretchen, the average sentient being cannot as yet see through the back of something and magically ascertain the information on the front--certainly not for six dollars an hour and Your derision.  Surely had they wanted to enjoy an energetic game of this so-called Twister they would have set aside the requisite amount of time, rented the appropriate suite of rooms, purchased the  strangely scented oils and contacted Kristina, 25, Russia, dating.

Certainly the pale, joyless version of such that You are providing not only fails to elicit the adequate response, but it also lacks the overall mirth. And the oils.

Therefore, Your Great Enormous Grandiosity, simply position the proffered identification thus:

You will note that, similarly to the correct hand positioning for the acceptance of these little rectangular bits called 'Money,' once the  correct position has been achieved the ethereal glow emanating from it will show that You do indeed have finally got it right way round.

So You see, Your Most Esteemed Resplendence, this really is all about You after all. And the seemingly offensive actions of the other lesser beings who showed such unmitigated audacity and deigned to request anything of You are merely performing their lowly tasks for Your benefit, so that You may continue to believe that for just one brief shining moment more that You are The Most Important Thing Ever In The Shimmering Brilliance of The Universe.

So drop the attitude...