If Pat Metheny's Virtuosity Is Satanic, I'm a Priest of Baal
June 21 2006
1. How I almost (or better yet, should have) lost my job at Quizno's
After weeks of inner frustration, my nerves still failed to relent thier natural battery of the senses, and to no avail did I choke down each caffeinated beverage to dull their aptitude at whittling away my consciousness. On this day, I worked diligently on the creation of sandwiches. Then stepped an ex-employee up to the sneeze guarad, who foiled my plans for world because nothing vexes me more at the meat table than to serve an obnoxious strumpet similar to me in age. She took her time--too much, in my opinion--while prattling on about her future sandwich. Anger got the best of me even after attempting to shrug off her questions. She finally asked, "What sandwiches do you like?"
"I usually rotate between the cabo chicken, the black angus--"
"The black angus," she started. "I hate the black angus."
My doom subsequently rolled over my scowl likes clouds in a fierce, oncoming squall. "Well, if you're going to be a bitch about it," I smarted off. Yes, I called a customer--a female customer--a bitch. My tongue rolled back in dismay and extended once more as my eyes glared at the venomous slits betraying real rage. Any attempt to mollify the situation was futile. Eventually, others aided the cause of Quizno's and served her the sandwich she desired. I described the situation to my startled manager. Couple with his shock, his disappointment revealed to me my crime's possible damage. She had threatened to call Dave McClain, the head of operations, but I got to him first. Luckily, honesty and Dave's spending time with his family saved my job this time. Ironically, she was fired from the Quizno's on Caruthers (I now work at Concord) because of her temper. I find that tremendously hilarious, even considering the danger of all this to me. Yes, her attitude may have warranted my call but not under the umbrella of some of my current financial support.
2. Why G. Gordon Liddy is complete idiot
I hate G. G. Liddy. For those of you who don't know, he's a "conservative" radio talk show host (on 99.7 fm for Nashvegas folk) with a penchant for speaking to the "American citizen". If that citizen is a complete idiot all of the time, his entrance may be justified, but for God's sake, it's not. Today, I had the pleasure of hearing him fellate Kelly Patricia O'Meara for writing the book Psyched Out: How Psychiatry Sells Mental Illness and Pushes the Pills that Kill. According to Liddy and friends, mental illness has been concocted by the APA. Aside from the fact that I have enough personal experience, enough people I've met, and enough information in my brain to beat the shit out for his criticism and blanket statement logic, I try to keep to logic. Liddy says that there's no really objective method for determination of chemical imbalances in the brain, and that dismisses immediately via "common sense" Hmmmm...well, if Liddy wants to donate his brain while he's still alive to be tested on, then that will change. Psychiatry, for all its faults, is the most honest of all fields of science. It admits that it is flawed. Of course, Liddy does not think twice about whether light is a particle or a wave, or what gravity is, or that tons of science is just educated guesses! For a medical example, chemotherapy is fairly rough as far as treatment: you're only swallowing poison in the hope that it will kill only all the bad cells and but just leave enough good cells alone that you will live. Psychiatry does what it can with what it has available. If there's abuse, it's only one in tons of medical abuse cases. Liddy also claims that the pharmaceutical companies don't know what their medicines do. Wrong...they do have a basic idea, but they can't generalize out a 100% success rate for everyone's brain. No one can with anything, not even Liddy, unless he's God, and his track record is pretty shabby for that. He also makes fun of "twitching leg syndrome". Wow, dumbshit, you're wrong. It's "Restless Leg Syndrome", and it results from taking certain sleep aids often given to depression patients, who generally have trouble sleeping, depending on the level of depression. It consists of painful muscle spasms of the legs, and it is a real problem, although the cause is most likely the sleep medicine and is largely unexplainable. Lastly, since I turned it off eventually, anti-depressive medicine rarely cause people to commit suicide, especially since most people who should be taking them were planning on commiting suicide anyway. No, psychiatry is not as lethally helter-skelter as Liddy would like to believe so that he can raise his ratings; it does help people, and the opposition to psychological practices and psychotropic drugs offer no viable alternative, save maybe scientology (if that's viable). Whatever, screw Liddy.
After weeks of inner frustration, my nerves still failed to relent thier natural battery of the senses, and to no avail did I choke down each caffeinated beverage to dull their aptitude at whittling away my consciousness. On this day, I worked diligently on the creation of sandwiches. Then stepped an ex-employee up to the sneeze guarad, who foiled my plans for world because nothing vexes me more at the meat table than to serve an obnoxious strumpet similar to me in age. She took her time--too much, in my opinion--while prattling on about her future sandwich. Anger got the best of me even after attempting to shrug off her questions. She finally asked, "What sandwiches do you like?"
"I usually rotate between the cabo chicken, the black angus--"
"The black angus," she started. "I hate the black angus."
My doom subsequently rolled over my scowl likes clouds in a fierce, oncoming squall. "Well, if you're going to be a bitch about it," I smarted off. Yes, I called a customer--a female customer--a bitch. My tongue rolled back in dismay and extended once more as my eyes glared at the venomous slits betraying real rage. Any attempt to mollify the situation was futile. Eventually, others aided the cause of Quizno's and served her the sandwich she desired. I described the situation to my startled manager. Couple with his shock, his disappointment revealed to me my crime's possible damage. She had threatened to call Dave McClain, the head of operations, but I got to him first. Luckily, honesty and Dave's spending time with his family saved my job this time. Ironically, she was fired from the Quizno's on Caruthers (I now work at Concord) because of her temper. I find that tremendously hilarious, even considering the danger of all this to me. Yes, her attitude may have warranted my call but not under the umbrella of some of my current financial support.
2. Why G. Gordon Liddy is complete idiot
I hate G. G. Liddy. For those of you who don't know, he's a "conservative" radio talk show host (on 99.7 fm for Nashvegas folk) with a penchant for speaking to the "American citizen". If that citizen is a complete idiot all of the time, his entrance may be justified, but for God's sake, it's not. Today, I had the pleasure of hearing him fellate Kelly Patricia O'Meara for writing the book Psyched Out: How Psychiatry Sells Mental Illness and Pushes the Pills that Kill. According to Liddy and friends, mental illness has been concocted by the APA. Aside from the fact that I have enough personal experience, enough people I've met, and enough information in my brain to beat the shit out for his criticism and blanket statement logic, I try to keep to logic. Liddy says that there's no really objective method for determination of chemical imbalances in the brain, and that dismisses immediately via "common sense" Hmmmm...well, if Liddy wants to donate his brain while he's still alive to be tested on, then that will change. Psychiatry, for all its faults, is the most honest of all fields of science. It admits that it is flawed. Of course, Liddy does not think twice about whether light is a particle or a wave, or what gravity is, or that tons of science is just educated guesses! For a medical example, chemotherapy is fairly rough as far as treatment: you're only swallowing poison in the hope that it will kill only all the bad cells and but just leave enough good cells alone that you will live. Psychiatry does what it can with what it has available. If there's abuse, it's only one in tons of medical abuse cases. Liddy also claims that the pharmaceutical companies don't know what their medicines do. Wrong...they do have a basic idea, but they can't generalize out a 100% success rate for everyone's brain. No one can with anything, not even Liddy, unless he's God, and his track record is pretty shabby for that. He also makes fun of "twitching leg syndrome". Wow, dumbshit, you're wrong. It's "Restless Leg Syndrome", and it results from taking certain sleep aids often given to depression patients, who generally have trouble sleeping, depending on the level of depression. It consists of painful muscle spasms of the legs, and it is a real problem, although the cause is most likely the sleep medicine and is largely unexplainable. Lastly, since I turned it off eventually, anti-depressive medicine rarely cause people to commit suicide, especially since most people who should be taking them were planning on commiting suicide anyway. No, psychiatry is not as lethally helter-skelter as Liddy would like to believe so that he can raise his ratings; it does help people, and the opposition to psychological practices and psychotropic drugs offer no viable alternative, save maybe scientology (if that's viable). Whatever, screw Liddy.
