Archive for January, 2016

Walmart Finally Fucked; Why Isn’t Michigan Governor Snider? Snyder, maybe.

Sunday, January 17th, 2016

So. It’s a wondrous and quite interesting weekend of reflections for me as my ADD is a-swirl with the multicolored whirls of the criminally insane. Like the twisted views from the small end of a kaleidoscope, my thoughts are the rainbow’s colors presented without filter or screen. And why, intherfuck, isn’t it spelled “wonderous”? It isn’t a “wondreful” day dammit, it’s wonderful, yet I’m required to see it as wondrous. I have enough trouble typing and editing my ADHD-addled thoughts without the need to spell correct every tenth word.

Like fourty. Who was the genius on that one? Ninety works, eighty, seventy as well. But does fourty work? Noooo, it’s “forty”. Like the origin of four tens comes from an early settlement in the American West that represents a person moving from Wyoming to a big city. Country boy goes to Saint Louis for fame and fortune and city folk find him “forty”.

“That Smithson fella is right forty. You can take the boy out of the Fort but not the fort out of the boy.”

Which reminds me. Asshole Michigan Governor seizes control of Flint, strips that once fine city of its culture and pride, poisons its citizens with toxic water, then begs Obama to pay the way out. This is so fucking ironic my skin is crawling.

For starters, where was Cloven Bundy when the Guvmint took over an entire town? Where were the armed “protectors of freedom” when actual peoples’ rights were consumed in a fit of right-wing power? Silly fucking separationists were likely sucking on cans of Red Bull, unfiltered ciggies and Uncle Sam’s tits.

For second helpings, what if the citizens of Flint had taken up arms and occupied their own town? Would the Governor have sat quietly on the sidelines?

For thirdies, thirdsies maybe, there was knowledge aforethought that the replacement water supply was poisoned. Who will be prosecuted, who will be held accountable for the gigantic costs in human suffering, long-term health care expenses, and cleaning up this mess? Does the simple goddamn fact that lead stays in the human system to do terrible damage not resonate with a man like Governor Ricky Snider? Somebody fill his kids with lead and see his reaction. And actions.

To fix this without prosecuting those responsible is just as reprehensible as bailing-out big banks and not sending those fucking Banksters to jail. Please Mr. President, don’t half-ass this dealio.

Which leads me to my fourthie, not herein called “forthie” whateverthefuck Spell Check says, and that after-the-third thing is the still continuing saga of my car bidness.  I have reached an amicable agreement with the automaker and await final disposition. Should they fulfill this last promise I’ll allow them to make, I’m satisfied. More to follow.

And that but leaves the real reason I’m writing today. OK, maybe that should have been, “And that leaves but the real reason…” However, as I hate leaving butts hanging, and leaves are sometimes pretty, I find myself in the honored position as the responsible person for forcing a major social change to the good of common man.

I, with the help of all of you, have finally made an impact on one of the most insidious scourges to American society. My unflinching campaign to bring halt to the rampant growth of this menace has finally taken purchase. Your support for my cause has created a ground-swell of powerful messaging that has, at last, bore fruit. I can’t say it better than the headline I saw in the New York Times. It said:

“Walmart to close 269 stores worldwide.”

It came to me last night as I was going to sleep. I lay on my back—left hand scratching Yoda at my hip and right hand cupping (clutching maybe) my balls—and rethinking my day. As I finished ruminating I started thinking just how comforting it is to scratch my tiny white dog while holding my scrotum in preparation for sleep, and wondering was this another sign that I’m just not right. The Squirt was at my right side with her head resting on my chest, so I asked the brown puppy her opinion.

“Squirty girl, you awake?”

“What now, asshole. You still wanna debate whether Cruz or Trump is the bigger shithead?”

“No, I’m good on that one. I’m wondering if I’m crazy for holding my balls and scratching the goat dog to relax for sleep.”

“For shitsakes, Mooner. When a person is crazy, by definition all things they do are crazy. Shut up and go to sleep.”

Somehow Squirt’s logic is, like my balls, comforting. Acknowledging that I truly am crazy, I can stop worrying if I seem crazy for things. I can just accept lunacy for what it is and move on. Spend my time on more productive thinking.

Like new and more creative ways to: Fuck Walmart!


Flip-Flopped Floopage; Doing The Right Thing Hurts

Monday, January 11th, 2016

So. It’s January 11th and I have yet to provide a posting in the New Year. This lack of published verbiage is not due to my having not written to you but is, rather, that the several thousands of words spun from my brain have been ruined by the continuing, and still unsettled, situation with my little car.

Three times since the calendar flipped I have written a final chapter to my car saga, and three times conditions have changed—flip-flopped from good-to-bad and back again. It’s been like the line from that Harry Nielsen song. “Good/bad/good/bad/goo/ba/goobagoobagooba…”

At least that’s how I think the words go. One of my ex-wives let me know the status of our relationship with one of Harry’s songs. This is the ex I don’t write about for fear that she might reappear in my life. I’d get a phone call at work and answer to the sounds of, “You’re breaking my heart, you’re tearing it apart, so Fuck You!”

Which is how I have been feeling with the goings-on with my formerly beloved car. I miss Harry and I miss the good times I spent with my tiny hot rod. I write about how shitty I’m treated and then get a promise of restitution. Then the promise is broken after I write anew to rip assholes, and before I can publish a scathing review, another promise is made.

I’ve always hated the meat grinder big companies use to settle consumer issues—revolving doors filled with confusing policies, multiple layers and faceless voices that can’t be reached directly. Somehow we, as consumers, have royally screwed ourselves by allowing businesses to have these systems. We have somehow managed to make it more profitable for a big company to run us around long enough so that we settle for small recompense as compared to the company fulfilling their warranties and promises.

As a business owner my veryownself, I have always found that style of customer service to be wrong. Wrong in every way thinkable. I’ve always felt a fiduciary duty to people who give me money for my promise to provide products or services, and I’ve always done my best to quickly, and fairly, give what I promised. It’s all about integrity.

We’ve lost our integrity because nobody seems to be held accountable. Take our too-big-to-fail banks. They wrecked our economy eight years ago, no individuals were punished, and they are close to wrecking our economy once more. Fucking consumers and the common man has become blood sport for the economically powerful. Volkswagen has royally screwed their buyers and our Environment. VW will be slapped on the wrist with some fines, and the consumers of those bad products will pay the price.

But I’m old school both as a businessman and a consumer. I won’t demand anything more than what you promise, but you will deliver on your promises. Or pay a price greater than the cost of doing the right thing. A major auto builder is now choosing its course.

“Have protest signs, will travel.”

So Fuck Walmart!