Why it's time to spank our politicians

The geezer has been quiet for months. Mind you, this wasn’t because there aren’t numerous things worth getting really mad about. No, this is because early on, this ole geezer swore to my, our loyal reader(s), we would confine our rants to rude waiters, dumb drivers, teachers who can’t spell, and the like, and wouldn’t sink a toe into the rancid waters of political punditry.

And this has been the reason for the silence.

The ole geezer is as pissed off as ever. Problem is, what’s really been eating my shorts isn’t the death of social graces thanks to the Internet, or the bimbofication of America, or even those darned kids hanging around on my lawn.

So, I apologize in advance to my loyal reader(s). But this is an open letter to our political leaders, penned by The Ole Bitch (otherwise known as my better half).

“Dear House and Senate,

Shame on you. Every one of you is officially grounded. You have been scaring the dickens out of half the country with your bickering over the national debt, and I for one have had enough!

Let’s pretend that the national debt is our household. Which, if you think about it, it is. Now, let’s say we sat down and looked at our budget and the only way we can pay our bills is by consistently increasing the spending limit on our credit cards, so that we’re in effect borrowing from Mastercard to make the minimum payment on Visa.

Didn’t your mothers teach you that you can’t spend more than you have? Credit cards are for emergencies, not groceries. If we’re borrowing so much as a household we have two options: cut our expenses and get a second job.

One side says we have to balance the budget by spending cuts alone. Another side says we have to balance the budget by “eliminating loopholes” which amounts to raising taxes on some people (the wealthy) which amounts to someone in our household having to take on an extra job one day a week. Didn’t any of your mothers teach you about compromise?

It’s time the American people sent you all to bed with no dessert till you can figure out something sustainable. I think the very first budget cuts should be your salaries. Now go do your homework over until you get it right!”

There you have it. Now go find something useful to do. And get the hell off my lawn!

Why Home Schooling Your Kids Means You're Selfish

If you're home schooling your child for any reason other than geographic or medical necessity (and I'm talking about living 1,000 miles from the nearest school or having to feed your child through a tube every hour or so), I want you to go find the nearest electric socket and stick your tongue into it as deep as you can. Repeat as necessary until you're shocked back to your senses, or dead. Whichever comes first.

After an extended bout with the flu, the ole codger was subjected to a barrage of daytime television, most particularly Wife Swap, where if I ever had any doubts in my mind about the kind of people who home school their kids, those doubts disappeared faster than a flock of Mormons at an open bar.

From what I saw (and what I've experienced in my own life, sad to say), home schooling parents generally fall into two categories: ultra right wing religious nuts, and ultra left wing lazy bastards who can't be bothered to get their kids up and dressed for school every day.

The argument from the ultra religious right wing nuts (I'm talking to you, Duggars, and all you wannabes too) is that the kids would be exposed to views and beliefs that are counter to the religious teachings you're trying to cram down their throats. The school might teach Darwinism? Or sex education? Or, heaven forbid, they might actually associate with kids who are not being brainwashed into the same cult as yours? Last time I checked, America was a country made up of dozens, if not hundreds, of different cultures and belief systems, and last time I checked, you live here voluntarily. Your kids could use the lesson in tolerance. And come to think of it, so can you.

Then there's the lazy bastard who uses "home schooling" as an excuse to let the kids do whatever the hell they want all day. You think you're freeing your children of the shackles of society and schedules and expectations, but all you're doing is keeping your kid in a different kind of slavery -- one that doesn't allow them to have friends their own age, or learn how to do things you can't teach them yourself. If you were too lazy or weak-willed to handle the responsibilities of raising your child, you shouldn't have had them to begin with. Grow the hell up, set your alarm and put your kid on the school bus in the morning. Even if it's inconvenient for your schedule (or lack thereof).

While I'm at it, I'm going to include a third group: the Uber-Helicopter Parent. This is the type of parent who doesn't want to give up control of the kid, either physically or emotionally, until that child is old enough to run away from home and not look back. If you're this kind of parent, put the needs of your child to learn how to be a social creature ahead of your own need to control them. Part of raising a child is teaching them how to handle themselves when you're not around, whether they're 6 or 60. They can't learn this if they're under your thumb all the time, and trust the codger on this, no matter how close you watch, if they want to rebel they will...and sometimes that rebellion will be way beyond the normal teenage back-talk.

So why do I care about your kids? I'll be honest. I don't. I'm just sick of illiterates trying to teach their kids to read, people who can't balance a checkbook trying to raise their kids to understand math and budgeting, and lunatics on both sides of the fringe trying to raise their own little armies of (insert polarizing stereotype here). And the reason I am sick of it is that one of these days, my kids will end up supporting your kids when they end up uneducated and broken. And how can they do that when they should be putting their money where it counts...supporting ME?!

Now, go do something constructive...like register your kid for school...and get the hell off my lawn. Or laon. Or however your dumbass homeschool teacher tawt ya hows ta spel id.

Why You REALLY Got Fired

With unemployment hovering in the neighborhood of 10 per cent, there are a couple of people out there who got laid off for reasons that really were absolutely beyond their control.

I'm talking to the rest of you.

You know who you are. You're the one who got an official warning and thought it was just your boss having a bad day. You're the one who still asked newbie questions, more than a year after starting your job. You're the one who picked fights and whined about your boss and your job and your workflow.

In short, you're the one who was a pain in the ass.

Now, it's true that not every pain in the ass in any workplace will get fired. First, the majority of a company's major pains in the ass own the company. Second, the select few employees who can take a shit in the boss' office and still not get fired are providing something so valuable that the company simply can't afford to fire them. (Yet.) Or they're sleeping with someone. For now. In either case, they are the exception that proves the rule. You're the rule. And now you're the one out of work.

So, what have you learned from this experience, other than the obvious "don't be a pain in the ass"? Here are a couple of tips for establishing yourself as a contributing asset to any company:

1. Smile. At least pretend to smile. If you're having a bad day, it's no one's business but your own. This is especially true if you deal with customers of any kind.

2. Pay attention. This isn't junior high school and no one's gonna pay you to pick your ass. If the popcorn machine is empty, fill it. If the copier needs toner, find out how to order it. And when the opportunity presents itself for you to prove you're smarter/better/more motivated than the typical moron you work with, do it. It will be noticed, even if you don't think so at the time.

3. Learn your job. Stop asking dumbass questions by the end of the second week. If you can't be bothered to learn what you're doing, make a list. Make flashcards. Just don't keep bothering other workers asking them how to do your job.

4. Get out of my face. I don't want to hear your phone argument with your landlord any more than you want to hear about my rectal fissure. Let's make a deal...I don't share with you and you don't share with me. This also applies to body odors, farts, descriptions of your bowel movements and anything at all to do with your adorable children. If I care I'll ask. And don't expect me to ask.

5. Learn from your mistakes. Outside of Los Angeles no one expects you to be perfect. You will make mistakes. It's as inevitable as death, taxes and the guy in front of you at the toll booth who stops to ask directions. Just don't keep making the same mistake over and over or people will start to assume you're an idiot. And that assumption will probably be right.

6. Get the hell off the Internet. You think no one's tracking how much time you waste reading crap like this? If you're reading this at work you'd better be on your lunch break, the boss or sleeping with the boss.

The rest of you, get back to work and get the hell off my lawn.

Why Only Dicks Work on Wall Street

When did "manufacturing" become such a dirty word in this country?

This ole codger is old enough to remember the Oil Embargo in the 1970s, when OPEC decided to flex its collective muscles and bring the West to its knees. You idiots who drive around in those Hummers obviously never experienced a gas line, but when you do (and notice I don't say if, but when) you should remember that this ole bastard told you so and it ain't my fault you were too damned pigheaded to listen. You think $4 gas was bad? Wait five years, kiddo.

There's a really good reason we still haven't developed our own sources of energy. The nation's top ranking students decided they could best serve society by flocking to Wall Street, where they could make jawdropping fortunes without ever having to sully themselves with an honest day's work. If half those gigantic brains (and egos) went into energy research, we'd have plug-in windmills for our houses by now and the oil interests could stick their drilling equipment where the sun don't shine.

So, with the shakeout on Wall Street, does this mean some of those displaced workers will put their educations to better use figuring out how to cure cancer or what causes autism or how to make a car that runs on garbage? Or how about any car designed by Americans that actually looks and runs like something you'd want to buy?

I'm not holding my breath.

Now go do something constructive and get the hell off my lawn.

Why the Republicans are Better Criminals Than the Democrats

I hate politics. I hate politicians. And I don't intend to write about politics very often because anyone who calls himself a "pundit" should, in my opinion, be forced into a mandatory political party de-programming process similar to what would be used by parents who kidnap their teenagers back from, say, a Moonie Kool-Aid cult. In fact, I'm old enough to remember when people didn't need their news candy-flavored with big fat dollops of 'spin.'

Back when I was a kid, news media did not assume people needed their information pre-digested and spoon-fed back to them. Back in the Olden Days before cable news networks of every stripe, TV political news actually used to strive for neutrality. Because there was this idiotic assumption that, given the facts, Americans would be smart enough to draw their own conclusions (this is the basis of free speech in this country after all).

Nowadays that's just too complicated for most morons. It's easier to watch political pundits and 'news' that's just thinly-veiled promotion of a pre-digested political point of view that reinforces our own predefined notions. Because we've gotten too damned stupid to care about who's leading this country, and just root for our 'team' -- right, wrong or indifferent. So we got the government we deserve. Crooks in every sense of the word, from the outright horrific (Chappaquiddick) to the mortifying (financing the Contras, anyone?)to the just plain offensive (how many millions of our tax dollars were spent invesitgating Zippergate?).

Yeah. They're all crooks. The Democrats. The Republicans. And their little dogs, too.

However, the Republicans are apparently better crooks. They are like the Mafia, in that they are highly secretive, highly organized, profoundly cynical and doggedly loyal to their own. And they thrive on fear and misinformation (see: Sarah Palin). But they go to Church, so that makes it all okay.

The Democrats, on the other hand, are the Crips and Bloods of the political process. They operate on a very smalltime level overall but make a lot of noise, make a lot of messes and when they fight, they don't care how many bystanders get killed in the crossfire.

Now that we're clear on that, let me congratulate the good people of Massachusetts for giving the entire political process the giant and collective middle finger it deserves.

I have no solution. Why should I bother to think of one? I'm a fat, lazy American.

Now get the hell off my lawn. And take your stupid political campaign posters with you.

"How Are You?" and why no one gives a damn

"I cried because I had no shoes.
Until I met a man who had no feet.
So I took his shoes and ran like hell."

Here's another one of those unpleasant truths you may suspect but no one will actually tell you. When someone asks "How are you?" the only correct answer is "fine."

Barring your spouse (on occasion), your relatives (on extremely rare occasion, and only if there's good gossip to be had in exchange for listening) or your best friend in the world -- and I'm talking about the kind of friend you'd call if you had to move a dead body -- the bottom line is this: Nobody gives a shit. Really.

Now, just because people don't give a shit doesn't mean people don't like you. It doesn't even mean they don't sympathize with your sick pet/dying friend/latest crisis with your ex or any other legitimate problem you might have. What it means is, other people have problems of their own. And in terms of perspective, your own problems are only top priority for you. You'll be a lot more popular...well, at least a lot less blatantly disliked...if you take this into consideration before venting your little pissant irritations all over people who may well be suffering plenty on their own, but who have the good taste not to bother you about it.

Here's one relatively minor example.

Years back when I was a much younger curmudgeon I worked with a number of people of varying financial circumstances. One person in particular spent a lot of time whining about the problems he was having because he was so badly underpaid. It never occurred to him that his luxurious lifestyle was the actual cause of said financial difficulties, or that if he had a crappy house that was not in a gated community, like the rest of the people he worked with, he would actually be able to afford the lunches he whined about missing or the car he wanted to replace his old clunker. But instead of realizing that his alleged problems were caused by living way above his means, he decided it was the fault of the evil company owner, and voiced this constantly to anyone who would listen. It's not surprising that he offended the very people he went to for support, once they had listened enough to understand that their entire living space would fit nicely into his three-car garage.

Another example that I flinch even having to remember: watching the reaction on the face of a woman who had recently miscarried a baby as the insensitive bitch next to her moaned and groaned about how hard it was to care for a newborn baby.

There's an old joke about a man who was asked how he was and responded, "Well, you know. My ankles are swollen and my back hurts all the time and when I hold my arm like this it feels all tingly. Plus, my arthritis has been acting up and my rash has been itchy, and my kids never call me. But you know me. I never complain."

What I'm saying is, your shit is yours. Keep it somewhere where I don't have to smell it. If I want to know, I'll ask. And if I ask, it will be with a lot more pointed a question than "How are you?".

Now go do something constructive and get the hell off my lawn.

Why Some Kids Need a Spanking (and some parents do too)

And now for some unsolicited parenting advice (see, I told you I'd offend you one way or another)...

I'll never forget the time I was in a fast food place for lunch, and noticed the woman in the booth right across from me, there alone with her son who looked to be about two and a half. She was attempting to eat her lunch and ignore the fact that her son was standing on the seat next to her, hitting her in the face.

Now, let's fast-forward a couple of years. Different time, different place, different woman. This one came to work all upset because her 15 year-old son tried to push her down the stairs because she tried to take away his cell phone.

Having raised two children to adulthood and never once been threatened with violence by either one of them (all right, there were a couple of real dirty looks there, but they were teenagers at the time so pretty much all they did was give dirty looks), I'm going to share some home truths about parenting that today's books have overlooked in favor of the dreaded political correctness.

Spanking works.

Now, I am in no way advocating beating up kids -- not even the little bastards who deserve it most. Spanking is not attacking. It's not abusing. It is making it crystal clear that there are limits, and there are rules, and there are consequences for knowingly breaking those rules. (This is also the basis for the American criminal justice system, when you think about it.) It's also a good reminder to anyone, large or small, to remember that there is always someone bigger and meaner than you are, and even if they're not they could still have a gun, so violence doesn't help anything and the best way to get along is to keep your hands to yourself.

Sounds like I'm saying two completely opposite things? Let me give you an example.

Say your two year-old is poised to do something he knows damned well he's not supposed to do. Now, say this isn't the kind of life or death situation where you'd better be grabbing his stupid ass before he falls off a cliff as opposed to arguing and giving him time to deliberate. So for argument's sake, he is going to try to play with the urn containing Gramma's ashes.

"Don't do that!" is your natural response.

And his natural response, being two, is to grin at you and put his hand just a little bit closer. Just to see what you'll do.

You have two choices now. You can yell at him again, figure he'll do it just to get a rise out of you, and then punish him (or worse, don't punish him so he learns it's fine to disobey you whenever he feels like it) or you can give him something new to deliberate.

"If you touch that you're going to get a spanking," would be the next words out of my mouth.

Now, say he really likes this game now. So he gives you a big, charming smile and yet again puts out a hand to touch the thing you have now clearly warned him not to touch.

"I'm going to count to three now, and if you're still standing there you'll get a spanking. Ready? One...two..."

If you have been consistent up to this point in your parenting, he now knows you're serious. And because of that, I never ever actually made it to "three" until my second child was three. And guess what. She got a slap on the behind, cried like I had killed her, got over it and I never had to get to "three" again. And for the record, she (and my son) are both grown up now, alive, and are both very pleasant and productive members of society.

What I'm saying is, if you let your kids turn into monsters when they're young, just wait until they're monsters who are old enough to push you down the stairs.

You're the parent. Be the parent. What it takes is time and consistency. A lot of consistency. If they 'get it' when they're little, it makes it much easier when they start to outgrow you.

Oh, and the caveat here is that spanking should be discontinued the minute the kid is old enough to reason with (and punish with appropriate consequences such as having to leave a party if they act like a brat while there). In my kids' case it was about four. Your mileage may vary.

Now, go do something constructive. And get your kids off my damned lawn unless you asked me if they could play there.