Monday, April 13, 2015

IED = Land Mine!!!

If you could read American minds, you would hear this:

Bibi : Yon tov, Yon tov
Dick: Halliburton, Halliburton?
Bibi: Yon tov, Yon tov
Abe: Anti-Semite, anti-Semite!!!
Dick: Halliburton, Halliburton!
Fox: Halliburton, Halliburton, Yon tov, Yon tov!!!
Marine: Land mine, land mine!!!
Dick: Gold mine, gold mine!!!
Marine: Freedom? Jewmitary? Land mine?
Dick: Freedom! IED... anti-Semite? Gold mine, Gold mine!!!

I have more peanut story coming; I've been distracted with taking care of an adorable little puppy, who is at the vet right now.

Saturday, March 28, 2015

Westershire: Cheap Peanuts for The Masses pt. 2

That last statement pulled both men out of their pleasant reveries. Gaelor remembered his business manners, straightened his cotton vest, and pulled up his chin.

"Right, of course. So what brings you here today, Mr. Farmer?"

"Well, I've got a full load of peanuts, lying in the 'ole cart back there. Are you still buying at the same price?"

"A copper piece a tentame, like usual. No fluctuations in demand at the marketplace. Loxim says all his parchments add up just right. I'll bring out the scale."

Mr. Breckerstone practically skipped through the door to his back office, excited to grab his shiny new brass scale, which he had recently purchased from Farnan the Smith. Meanwhile, Gregory Farmer strolled out to haul a heaping sack of freshly harvested peanuts from the back of his cart. He lugged the sack over his left shoulder and tottered unevenly back into the shop. He made a mental note to visit to Ranjan later, to see if the carpenter could build a small wooden dolly, this time one with wheels. Or maybe he would just buy some smaller sacks. Back inside the shop, he met Gaelor finishing his calibration with the metal blocks you had to buy from Lord Tame.

"Excellent, just bring those over here, Greg; I've got it all evened out for a tentame."

Greg observed the apparatus, which had a tentame block on one side, sealed with the Lord's brand, and a wooden cup on the other, which from experience both parties knew held about a tentame of peanuts. Everything looked solid, so Farmer heaved his bag onto the counter and untied the twine holding it closed at the top. He poured a good amount into the cup. Critical hit, it was perfect.

"Allright, Greg, that's one", said Gaelor, "let me just pour that into my bag over here and make a tally on my chart. You want a copy as usual, right? Ok, let me just make a tally on this copy over here, as well. And let's go ahead and measure the next tentame.

This process continued all day long, with Greg bringing sacks of dirty peanuts into the shop, and Gaelor helping him to measure them out, very carefully. By sunset, both parchments were full of tallies, Greg's cart was empty, and Gaelor's backroom was full of fresh peanuts. Greg took his tally sheet; Gaelor took his own. They both agreed on the same number, one-hundred and thirty tentames.

Gaelor handed Greg a glittering gold piece and three shiny silver coins. Both were exhausted, and the oxen needed to be fed. The journey home would feel long, but it still wasn't as bad as digging in the dirt all day, collecting the crop. Greg took his coins, placed them in a small velvet sack, and stood up. It was time to go home.

Friday, March 27, 2015

Westershire: Cheap Peanuts for The Masses pt. 1

Once upon a time, there lived a humble peanut farmer in the rolling plains of Westershire. His name was Gregory Farmer, and he served the noble Lord Chipper Tame. Greg occupied a pleasant wooden cottage on the edge of a three acre plot, within whose borders he felt safe; he delivered a small, discrete velvet sack of golden coins to Lord Tame on the third of each tenday.

Now, not thirty minutes away by oxen-driven cart, a modestly sized shop stood. On a sunny Fourthsday afternoon, Mr. Gaelor Breckerstone might be found there behind a finely crafted wooden counter, tallying marks on a piece of parchment and waiting to be noticed. This was one such Fourthsday, and Greg Farmer was just stepping off his cart. He fed each of his two oxen a single sugar cube. They were a little pricey, but these were study and hard-working oxen. Gaelor looked up as he heard the pleasant lowing that resulted from this treatment.

Gregory walked into the shop, and he said, "Blessings of Tymora upon you, Mr. Breckerstone. How are the wife and kids?"

Gaelor smiled amiably, "Oh you know how it is, Greg. The wife always wants a new dress, and my daughter needs that popular adventurer toy."

Everyone knew everyone in Westershire. Greg's mind filled with nostalgic thoughts about his own daughter, Lizzy, her face covered in dirt, running into the cottage, followed closely by Fran, Gaelor's pretty little girl. That was a rainy Sixthsday, some months ago, and his wife had been horribly upset about needing to mop up all that mud. Covertly, Gaelor enjoyed the commotion.

"Oh, yes, of course she does. I think I heard a rumor or two about those whittled masterpieces. Ranjan the Carpenter started making those at his shop, isn't that right? And Julius the Tailor now sells little vials of dye and feather paintbrushes so the kids can personalize those things. I haven't seen either character in ages. Anyway, let's get down to business."

Thursday, March 26, 2015

Crime Really Doesn't Pay, After All

Can coercively seizing someone's information without just cause be considered assault, for example by threatening to put someone in a situation that revokes their financial security if they do not hand over their birthdate, DL number, address, and full legal name? If so, I just got assaulted and then fired for attempting to figure out how to defend myself against this work of structural violence. Now today, I feel insecure that an untrusted entity has taken so much information about me, photocopied it, and put it in a database, all without my willful consent. 

And I need a new job. Who's hiring? On the bright side, all this has given me incredible insight into identity theft.

So, let's say hypothetically  I've invented a somewhat risky (though honestly people are retarded so not that risky) scheme to steal about 50k/year from the 1%. It's hugely convoluted and would probably entail the equivalent of a full-time job in labor hours. But then I went onto match.com and discovered that physicians make at least 200k/year, or like 120k/year after taxes. Let's give myself a 20k/year cushion, even though this is more than the median personal income. That pays for medical school or whatever. I'm also grossly underestimating salary*.

So, from this data, I can conclude that working as a physician produces about 2x as much, at least, as my incredibly clever scheme to "arbitrage" the 1% market, if you will. And it's not even a tested procedure. Then, logically, every hour I would work as a doctor would take more from society than a hour of determined labor as an identity thief. Gee, I wonder why all the ultra-smart identity thieves don't just become doctors instead?

Or for that matter, why don't black people in the hood become medical assistants instead of marijuana footsoldiers, since these each pay about equally. I think Marco Rubio should go to a project in Detroit and fucking ask that question. God dammit.

Instead, there's all this shady research on how black people are genetically violent criminals. Well, maybe not. Maybe being a criminal simply paid more than working at McDonald's. After all, I would reasonably expect a slum-negro to jump at the chance at making 50k/year reading radiology charts rather than dodging armed troops and trying to sell chemical happiness.

*Estimated Physician Salary


Sunday, March 22, 2015

Ghostwriter: The Unpublished Marvel


Read this very carefully to find out exactly what happens to a genius who wasn't born rich. Click. Read. Learn. Enjoy your sarcastic Deity.

Let me help you out with this one; if he's writing books for some of the smartest CEO's in business, then he's probably smarter than all of them. Or else why didn't they write their own books? They didn't have time? Well, how did this guy find time working fiendishly at a book plant managing 250 people, perhaps without even having a college degree. Or is that where all his extra time came from? And trust me, all along the way, people were trying to get him fired. He's so smart he was a threat to management.

Saturday, March 21, 2015

Outrageous Shipping Costs

Want to know how much it actually costs to ship an item to you, versus how much a company is charging? Click on the pictures to zoom in. I actually feel very sad for all the people who are trying to compete with Amazon right now, but it's not good to lose money.

         Price to ship a camera battery charger to Oregon

Price to ship a camera battery to Florida, from the same site.

I also checked Texas and Michigan; they were the same price. So, why do they even make me enter a zip code if it's a fucking flat rate shipping cost? Well, here's why:

Actual price to ship the same camera battery, from Oregon to Florida, or across the entire country.

Let's do a quick calculation. 5.42 - 2.50 = 2.92. So, basically, dCables is trying to charge me 50% the total item cost in order to put it in a box, slap a sticker with my address on it, and put it in the mail. I think not. Time to go to Amazon.com again.

Update: Amazon.com had a prime deal that included a charger kit, which can also be used in the car or in Europe, screen protectors, and a microfiber pad all for less than the charger on dCables.com. God I love-hate Capitalism.


Saturday, March 14, 2015

So You Want To Read My Diary? Well, That's Going To Cost You

I recently became aware that I've generated a few subscribers by being awesome. Apparently ya'll find me sufficiently interesting to read my bantering thoughts. Amazing. I love it. But now I'm going to try to make money off it.

You may have noticed the ads that just appeared on my blog. That's no accident, baby! Please click on them. Actually, please copy-paste my blog URL, open like 10 tabs, bring up my blog on every tab, and click through the ad on each tab. And buy stuff you don't need, of course. I know I do. I just bought this:


[Does not insert hints here]



I mean, like seriously, I have a problem. It's bad, but therapists just aren't trained to handle something like this.

And if you really like what I have to say, here's the QQminusS quote of the day!

"Racism doesn't discriminate; it persecutes anyone who is different."
                    - A random pizza-delivering genius, circa 2015


Click on enough ads, and I'll reward you by explaining the origin of my now notorious moniker!

Update: So far, no clicks. Dang!