I have a few friends who do the whole fantasy football thing. I don't. Mostly because I don't get what the attraction is. There are fantasy leagues out there for just about every sport, I'm sure. You could maybe talk to me about a fantasy hockey league for a few minutes and I could get a warm feeling in my heart for the Red Wings, but do NOT waste my time on a NASCAR fantasy league. Other than admiration for the marketing genius who somehow got NASCAR into the mainstream, I have no interest in NASCAR. Again, nice work on building an empire out of driving in circles, but don't let me interrupt your pork rinds and PBR.
Maybe you're like my friend Warren who is a huge sports fan. Doesn't matter what sport. You want to know Bill Buckner's lifetime batting average? Warren can hook you up. He even knows who came in second in a given sporting event. I had to type "super bowl 23" into Yahoo to find out who played, but Warren could tell you that San Francisco beat Cincinnati by scoring two touchdowns in the fourth quarter for the win. So he's a big sports fan. I got it. He's also about the world's nicest guy. He's the kind of guy who would jumpstart your car for you at 3 in the morning and even bring treats from home for you. Thanks, Warren!
But does being a big sports fan mean that you are automatically a big fantasy sports fan? One of my other friends (who is an idiot) says that this fantasy football business is just a big male bonding activity. It doesn't necessarily have anything to do with football, he would say. At that point, I would say to him that he is an idiot (mostly because I just like calling him an idiot). He digs the coming together of a sport that he digs and the internet which he also digs. That's fine. If you dig two things and you dig it even more when those things come together, then I say be my guest. I guess I just don't dig something over which I don't have any control (the NFL) enough to worry about it. I do dig the internet but its usually related to stalking people and the penalties are getting pretty stiff for that kind of activity. Want to bond with me? Let's skip the football talk and get right down to drinking beer! Can't drink as much when you're blathering on about Tom Brady's completion percentage.
I'm sure my manhood will be challenged by those of you who enjoy fantasy football. Be my guest (again). And while you're at it, you can kiss my ass. I just need to know why it is fun to create your own football "team", compare how they do against other "teams", trade "players" for other "players" and then celebrate a "victory". Please note the quotation marks. I've placed them there to emphasize that these are not real players, teams or victories. It's pretend, people! Just like my son pretends he's Zorro. Or Darth Vader. Darth Vader is cool and all, but until Junior gets his own light saber and can demonstrate his use of the Force, I'm not falling for it.
If you're really into football, maybe you should PLAY football, not just fantasize about it. If you tell me that the reason you are into fantasy/pretend football is because you are old like me, that's fine. I'm down with that. Your body can't take the punishment that comes along with a chop block or an open field tackle? Then maybe fantasy football IS for you. I'm just not sure where to draw the line. Why football? Work can sometimes dish out some mental punishment. Why not have a fantasy work league where you write a fantasy resume, accept a fantasy job and cash a fantasy paycheck? Might be a little tricky to pay the bills with those fantasy dollars but it's a good way to avoid doing actual work.
Or if you're like Warren and just generally a big sports fan, why not collect baseball cards? Maybe you will stumble onto a Honus Wagner rookie card and sell it for a boatload of money. I suppose you can gamble with fantasy sports to make a few bucks, but there's always the chance that you will have to resort to volunteering for medical experiments if you pick a bad "team".
Maybe I need to find something to be that passionate about. I'm pretty passionate about sitting on my ass. I also dig watching TV - while sitting on my ass. Are there fantasy Watching-TV-While-Sitting-On-My-Ass leagues?
Could it be that I am in the wrong here? Could be. And monkeys might fly out of my butt. I just don't get it. Looking forward to your comments.
Tuesday, November 22, 2005
Thursday, November 17, 2005
Dig: Taking the Day Off
So my wife is a teacher. For most of the day yesterday and a good part of last night, it snowed and blowed ("blew" doesn't rhyme) so she was rewarded with a phone call at about 5:30 this morning with her two favorite words: Snow Day. For those of you folks in Arizona or Africa or someplace who aren't typically eligible to receive a ticket in the Snow Day lottery, a Snow Day happens when the superintendant of the school system determines that the roads are too dangerous for buses to be out and about and therefore the future of our country gets the day off from learning. My wife would tell you that if you see "blowing and drifting" in the forecast, you're golden. Well, there wasn't much snow to drift, but it sure was blowing so the roads got pretty slippy, as my grandma used to say. It was really crappy driving home from work yesterday so I was pulling for her to get the day off. Mind you, she's stuck with our three brats all day but she can put them into SpongeBob-induced comas if necessary. So that brings me to something that I dig - a day off.
I've never been to prison or held hostage in a 7-11 robbery gone bad, but I am a middle-management corporate suck-ass father of three and husband of one who seems to get more work thrown at me with not enough time/people to do it. So the freedom that comes at the end of the day prior to taking the day off is the kind of freedom that I'm sure Martin Luther King was talking about. Assuming you aren't taking the day off to get a root canal or an audit from the IRS or a visit to the proctologist, you can petty much just take that big old weight that you carry around on your shoulders, hand it to the poor sap who has to be a contributing member of society while you turn into a slacker for the day and just skip on out into the sunshine. Yes, the sun always shines on the day off. You could be living in Seattle, where it rains all the frickin' time or here in Michigan where it snows half the year but the clouds will part for a brief moment allowing the sun to shine through and the angels to sing. As soon as you go into day-off mode, life is good and you are untouchable.
Again, as long as you don't have anything to do relating to gloved fingers and Vaseline (unless you're into that sort of thing), you have the whole world in front of you. Want to stay up late watching stupid shows on cable? Go for it! Booze it up so much that you do a little drunk dialing during David Letterman? Be my guest, 'cause you don't have to work tomorrow! Just don't get so drunk that you forget to turn off your alarm, because if you get up at the same time on your day off that you do on days that you go to work, you need counseling. Days off are for sleeping in. I recognize that there are people out there who enjoy getting up early. But those people clearly have issues that we simply don't have time to discuss here. Sometimes I have grand plans to get up at 6, run a quick 10 miles by 7:30, re-shingle the roof by 10, feed the poor by noon and then spend the rest of the afternoon working on my doctoral thesis. However, this doesn't usually happen and I am content to spend my day off only getting so far as to use the oven instead of the microwave to cook dinner.
Having a day off is like finding a $20 in your pocket that you thought you lost the last time you went to the casino. That's free money, baby, and a day off is free time. Time that is normally given to someone else. If you're like me, you spend most of your life at someone else's mercy. Work, kids, wife, bills, and just generally The Man. Well, The Man won't get me down on my day off! You want something out of me on John Day? Tough luck, Junior, I'm not punched in today! Don't try to call an 11:00 meeting, because that's when I'll be playing Plinko with my friends on The Price is Right in hopes of getting to the Showcase Showdown! And I hope you don't expect me to go someplace that is offended by unshaven people in sweats and old baseball caps, because I don't get all dolled up on my day off. If you need me to do some research on the Great Wall of China, you might be in luck if there is something on the National Geographic channel. If not, you're S.O.L.
Appropriately enough, one of my fave movies is Ferris Bueller's Day Off. There is a scene when Ferris, Sloane and Cameron are at the Cubs game and Ferris says to Cameron something about normally being in Phys. Ed. at that time. They both give a little laugh like they have totally gotten away with something. Certainly, they HAD gotten away with skipping out of school, but even for us yahoos who have to have our vacation time approved by HR, there is still that feeling of "everybody else is at the salt mine being good little worker bees and here I am in my favorite sweatpants scratching myself while I watch reruns of those reality show whores on Road Rules vs. Real World." The ONLY natural response to that feeling is that cheshire-cat, smug little Ferris Bueller kind of chuckle to yourself. You've been making deposits into that bank of time all your life and now it's time for a little withdrawal. Hand over my time, little Banker-Man, I'm going to piss some of it away! And don't even think about judging me for "wasting" a day off by doing nothing. This time is mine. It's bad enough that I don't get to earn interest on it, but I'll do whatever I want it with it, thank you very little.
And that's the bottom line here. My time is valuable, people, and there's a lot of crap I want to get done. One of the things that I want to do is sit on my arse. Yep, I go to work and meetings and stuff. Yep, I do the dad and husband thing. Sorry, I haven't gotten around to my Ph. D. yet. All I'm saying is cut me some slack and allow me to enjoy that feeling of sweet freedom that Tim Robbins felt at the end of Shawshank Redemption. The rest of you schlubs keep making those little hash marks in your cells/cubes. If you need me, don't call, because John Day ranks right up there with fishing out the secret decoder ring from a box of FrankenBerry cereal.
I've never been to prison or held hostage in a 7-11 robbery gone bad, but I am a middle-management corporate suck-ass father of three and husband of one who seems to get more work thrown at me with not enough time/people to do it. So the freedom that comes at the end of the day prior to taking the day off is the kind of freedom that I'm sure Martin Luther King was talking about. Assuming you aren't taking the day off to get a root canal or an audit from the IRS or a visit to the proctologist, you can petty much just take that big old weight that you carry around on your shoulders, hand it to the poor sap who has to be a contributing member of society while you turn into a slacker for the day and just skip on out into the sunshine. Yes, the sun always shines on the day off. You could be living in Seattle, where it rains all the frickin' time or here in Michigan where it snows half the year but the clouds will part for a brief moment allowing the sun to shine through and the angels to sing. As soon as you go into day-off mode, life is good and you are untouchable.
Again, as long as you don't have anything to do relating to gloved fingers and Vaseline (unless you're into that sort of thing), you have the whole world in front of you. Want to stay up late watching stupid shows on cable? Go for it! Booze it up so much that you do a little drunk dialing during David Letterman? Be my guest, 'cause you don't have to work tomorrow! Just don't get so drunk that you forget to turn off your alarm, because if you get up at the same time on your day off that you do on days that you go to work, you need counseling. Days off are for sleeping in. I recognize that there are people out there who enjoy getting up early. But those people clearly have issues that we simply don't have time to discuss here. Sometimes I have grand plans to get up at 6, run a quick 10 miles by 7:30, re-shingle the roof by 10, feed the poor by noon and then spend the rest of the afternoon working on my doctoral thesis. However, this doesn't usually happen and I am content to spend my day off only getting so far as to use the oven instead of the microwave to cook dinner.
Having a day off is like finding a $20 in your pocket that you thought you lost the last time you went to the casino. That's free money, baby, and a day off is free time. Time that is normally given to someone else. If you're like me, you spend most of your life at someone else's mercy. Work, kids, wife, bills, and just generally The Man. Well, The Man won't get me down on my day off! You want something out of me on John Day? Tough luck, Junior, I'm not punched in today! Don't try to call an 11:00 meeting, because that's when I'll be playing Plinko with my friends on The Price is Right in hopes of getting to the Showcase Showdown! And I hope you don't expect me to go someplace that is offended by unshaven people in sweats and old baseball caps, because I don't get all dolled up on my day off. If you need me to do some research on the Great Wall of China, you might be in luck if there is something on the National Geographic channel. If not, you're S.O.L.
Appropriately enough, one of my fave movies is Ferris Bueller's Day Off. There is a scene when Ferris, Sloane and Cameron are at the Cubs game and Ferris says to Cameron something about normally being in Phys. Ed. at that time. They both give a little laugh like they have totally gotten away with something. Certainly, they HAD gotten away with skipping out of school, but even for us yahoos who have to have our vacation time approved by HR, there is still that feeling of "everybody else is at the salt mine being good little worker bees and here I am in my favorite sweatpants scratching myself while I watch reruns of those reality show whores on Road Rules vs. Real World." The ONLY natural response to that feeling is that cheshire-cat, smug little Ferris Bueller kind of chuckle to yourself. You've been making deposits into that bank of time all your life and now it's time for a little withdrawal. Hand over my time, little Banker-Man, I'm going to piss some of it away! And don't even think about judging me for "wasting" a day off by doing nothing. This time is mine. It's bad enough that I don't get to earn interest on it, but I'll do whatever I want it with it, thank you very little.
And that's the bottom line here. My time is valuable, people, and there's a lot of crap I want to get done. One of the things that I want to do is sit on my arse. Yep, I go to work and meetings and stuff. Yep, I do the dad and husband thing. Sorry, I haven't gotten around to my Ph. D. yet. All I'm saying is cut me some slack and allow me to enjoy that feeling of sweet freedom that Tim Robbins felt at the end of Shawshank Redemption. The rest of you schlubs keep making those little hash marks in your cells/cubes. If you need me, don't call, because John Day ranks right up there with fishing out the secret decoder ring from a box of FrankenBerry cereal.
Thursday, November 10, 2005
Hate: Women's Purses
Ladies, I apologize if you don't carry around a purse the size of Montana stuffed with lots of crap like my mom and wife do. Also, if you have just a couple of purses, then this post isn't for you. I haven't had a lot of experience with different women's purses so I'm basing my hate on a sample size of two. Because I like to make broad, sweeping generalizations, however, I'm going to include all females over the age of 16 in this discussion. If you feel like you are being wrongly accused, feel free to go watch a movie on Lifetime or watch Dr. Phil or admire your Longaburger basket collection while I vent.
Being the good husband that I am, I was cleaning out our front closet recently. In addition to the various hats, mittens, jackets, shoes and backpacks stuffed in there, I found TWELVE purses. One short of a baker's dozen! Innocently enough, I suggested to my wife that she had too many purses. She looked at me, blinked a couple of times and then walked away. Having a lot of purses must make you deaf because she obviously didn't hear me. Either that, or she finds nothing wrong with having that many purses and did everything but say "I find nothing wrong with having that many purses. Shut up. Go make yourself useful by taking out the garbage."
So we have the issue of just the sheer number of purses. We also have the issue of their size. Certainly, the size of the purse is related to the amount of crap that is stuffed into said purse. We'll address that next but I'm going to write to my congressman (if I knew who it was) suggesting a tax on any purse larger than twice the size of a man's wallet. I think I'm being generous here. There really is no reason for chicks to carry anything bigger than my leather tri-fold but I didn't want to appear insensitive. (Just between you and me, though, I AM insensitive but I don't want to APPEAR insensitive. Big difference.) Similar to the "sin" taxes on cars that get crappy gas mileage, I'm proposing that a purse that is deemed too large will carry a $100 tax that will be used to build more golf courses. Girls, if you would like to carry around a big-ass purse, that's fine. The consolation for me is that every time you do, I'll be that much closer to enjoying a little pasture pool with my buddies. It's a win-win! Some people might suggest that the money be used to fund something stupid like schools or roads or blind people or hurricane victims. I'm going to take a strong stance on this one, though. Just don't tell the blind people or the people living in squalor in Louisiana. Or is "living in squalor" and "Louisiana" redundant?
The thing that I hate most is the amount of useless crap that is found in a given purse. Archeological digs don't turn up as many ancient artificacts as what you might find in one of my mom's purses. Just last week, the FBI stopped by to look for Jimmy Hoffa in one of her purses! It's a bottomless pit, people! In addition to the paper money (all singles, in our case) is a forest of receipts. I can assure you these are receipts for stupid stuff. Nothing cool like ipods or plasma TV's. These are receipts for pillow shams, decorative figurines and groceries for the family. You know, dumb stuff. If I have a receipt in my wallet, it would be for beer or a new transmission for the car or something manly like that. After I drink the beer, there is no reason for the receipt so I dispose of it properly. My wife, however, has receipts from 1983 in her purse! She will have the receipt for the slippers she bought in 1994 but do you think she has the receipt for the crappy plastic kids toy that broke after the first day so we can take it back to the store to get our money back? If you said, "ain't no way", you are absolutely correct.
My wife's purse and my mom's purse both smell the same. Due to the large amount of gum wrappers, wadded up dollar bills and the leather from the purse itself, the smell that wafts out of the purse when it's opened up to buy another pair of shoes or man-bashing book is enough to bring any man to tears. Imagine the smell of a cow rubbed all over with dollar bills handled by coal miners, ditch diggers and outhouse cleaners then "freshened" with a million wrappers from Trident Cinnamon gum or Wrigley Big Red. Throw in the smell of lint and old lipstick for good measure and you have the makings for something that Sadaam would feel guilty about using against the Kurds. My wallet, despite resting on my right butt cheek all day long, smells better than the purse from hell!
While I'm in a pissy mood, let's talk about the idea of me carrying your purse for you. I know there are men out there who carry purses. I also know there are men out there who prefer Ken to Barbie, if you know what I mean. I honestly don't care which team you play for but please don't carry a purse. There is no good way for a man to carry a purse either his own or his wife's. What am I going to do, sling it over my shoulder? Carry it by the handle where it will inevitably clash with my shoes? I don't think so! The best way to do it is to tuck it under my arm and kind of carry it like a football. Obviously, the whole time that I am in possession of the "football", I will have to avoid eye contact with anyone. Every once in a while, I might get a knowing look from another poor sap of a husband but usually I'll just get stares from small children as they are whisked away, eyes shielded, by their concerned parents.
So there you have it. Ladies - it's time to man-up and start carrying a wallet in your back pocket. All you really need is your driver's license, $50 and a credit card (No, that does not mean you can rack up a huge balance on the credit card!) The rest of the crap that you carry can be strewn about your minivan for all I care.
There, I feel better now.
Being the good husband that I am, I was cleaning out our front closet recently. In addition to the various hats, mittens, jackets, shoes and backpacks stuffed in there, I found TWELVE purses. One short of a baker's dozen! Innocently enough, I suggested to my wife that she had too many purses. She looked at me, blinked a couple of times and then walked away. Having a lot of purses must make you deaf because she obviously didn't hear me. Either that, or she finds nothing wrong with having that many purses and did everything but say "I find nothing wrong with having that many purses. Shut up. Go make yourself useful by taking out the garbage."
So we have the issue of just the sheer number of purses. We also have the issue of their size. Certainly, the size of the purse is related to the amount of crap that is stuffed into said purse. We'll address that next but I'm going to write to my congressman (if I knew who it was) suggesting a tax on any purse larger than twice the size of a man's wallet. I think I'm being generous here. There really is no reason for chicks to carry anything bigger than my leather tri-fold but I didn't want to appear insensitive. (Just between you and me, though, I AM insensitive but I don't want to APPEAR insensitive. Big difference.) Similar to the "sin" taxes on cars that get crappy gas mileage, I'm proposing that a purse that is deemed too large will carry a $100 tax that will be used to build more golf courses. Girls, if you would like to carry around a big-ass purse, that's fine. The consolation for me is that every time you do, I'll be that much closer to enjoying a little pasture pool with my buddies. It's a win-win! Some people might suggest that the money be used to fund something stupid like schools or roads or blind people or hurricane victims. I'm going to take a strong stance on this one, though. Just don't tell the blind people or the people living in squalor in Louisiana. Or is "living in squalor" and "Louisiana" redundant?
The thing that I hate most is the amount of useless crap that is found in a given purse. Archeological digs don't turn up as many ancient artificacts as what you might find in one of my mom's purses. Just last week, the FBI stopped by to look for Jimmy Hoffa in one of her purses! It's a bottomless pit, people! In addition to the paper money (all singles, in our case) is a forest of receipts. I can assure you these are receipts for stupid stuff. Nothing cool like ipods or plasma TV's. These are receipts for pillow shams, decorative figurines and groceries for the family. You know, dumb stuff. If I have a receipt in my wallet, it would be for beer or a new transmission for the car or something manly like that. After I drink the beer, there is no reason for the receipt so I dispose of it properly. My wife, however, has receipts from 1983 in her purse! She will have the receipt for the slippers she bought in 1994 but do you think she has the receipt for the crappy plastic kids toy that broke after the first day so we can take it back to the store to get our money back? If you said, "ain't no way", you are absolutely correct.
My wife's purse and my mom's purse both smell the same. Due to the large amount of gum wrappers, wadded up dollar bills and the leather from the purse itself, the smell that wafts out of the purse when it's opened up to buy another pair of shoes or man-bashing book is enough to bring any man to tears. Imagine the smell of a cow rubbed all over with dollar bills handled by coal miners, ditch diggers and outhouse cleaners then "freshened" with a million wrappers from Trident Cinnamon gum or Wrigley Big Red. Throw in the smell of lint and old lipstick for good measure and you have the makings for something that Sadaam would feel guilty about using against the Kurds. My wallet, despite resting on my right butt cheek all day long, smells better than the purse from hell!
While I'm in a pissy mood, let's talk about the idea of me carrying your purse for you. I know there are men out there who carry purses. I also know there are men out there who prefer Ken to Barbie, if you know what I mean. I honestly don't care which team you play for but please don't carry a purse. There is no good way for a man to carry a purse either his own or his wife's. What am I going to do, sling it over my shoulder? Carry it by the handle where it will inevitably clash with my shoes? I don't think so! The best way to do it is to tuck it under my arm and kind of carry it like a football. Obviously, the whole time that I am in possession of the "football", I will have to avoid eye contact with anyone. Every once in a while, I might get a knowing look from another poor sap of a husband but usually I'll just get stares from small children as they are whisked away, eyes shielded, by their concerned parents.
So there you have it. Ladies - it's time to man-up and start carrying a wallet in your back pocket. All you really need is your driver's license, $50 and a credit card (No, that does not mean you can rack up a huge balance on the credit card!) The rest of the crap that you carry can be strewn about your minivan for all I care.
There, I feel better now.
Monday, November 07, 2005
Hate: Overpriced Things
Many of the things that I will be sharing with you in this whole blog thing will probably be painfully obvious. I'm guessing that this is one of them. Just like Beavis (or was it Butthead?) said: I don't like things that suck!
As I said in an earlier post, I am addicted to mocha latte's from Starbucks. I love them. If I could, I would marry a mocha latte'. I would buy it a ring, walk down the aisle with it and exchange vows with it. After a nice reception and dancing to the chicken dance, we would jet off to the Mediterranean for a week and then settle down for a nice little life. However, besides that I hate the frickin' chicken dance, I couldn't afford it. I've already resigned myself to the fact that my kids will be going to community college because I spend so much money on VentiNonfatNowhipMochaLatte's. Imagine how much I would spend if I was married to it! If those things weren't so damned overpriced, though, my kids could still attend a good college. Which brings me to today's silliness.
I work in the auto industry, the most screwed-up industry in the world. Understanding and reducing cost is a big part of my job and one of the things that I've learned is that cost and price don't have anything to do with each other. Boys and girls, how much do you think it costs to make that beloved mocha latte' of mine? Let's just make some big broad guesses, shall we? For the purposes of today's discussion, we'll leave out the cost of the herion. Milk = 25 cents, mocha goodness = 50 cents, cup = 10 cents, lid = 5 cents, java jacket = 5 cents. According to my cypherin' that adds up to a cool 95 cents. Ok, maybe I have to add in 25 cents to send to Mecca (that would be Starbuck's HQ) for various marketing and overhead crap. Now I'm up to $1.20. MSRP on this stuff is $3.55. That means that Mr. Starbuck is getting $2.35 in profit for every one they sell! Good God, people!! Perhaps the UAW wokers at Delphi should start making mocha latte's instead of poorly-designed, poorly-manufactured widgets for the overstuffed, backwards-thinking, fat-cats at GM! Imagine a whole factory churning out mocha latte's with 200% profit margin on every one. Mind you, Delphi would surely screw it up given enough time, but for a while that would be a sweet gig!
Don't get me wrong, I'm a big fan of capitalism. This is true despite some graffiti that I saw in Ann Arbor way back when I was in school that said simply "capitalism, schmapitalism" that still makes me chuckle today. I also understand the whole concept of supply and demand but I'm not prepared to pull a Rosa Parks and boycott Starbuck's. She is a bigger man than I am in that regard and she's dead and a woman besides! If you can make a buck or two or three, my brother, you just go right ahead. I just don't like it when it's so obvious. If you're going to screw me, at least turn out the lights so I don't see you doing it!
What's worse than getting hosed by overpriced stuff is when the price of really overpriced stuff goes down so it's only overpriced instead of really overpriced. I have one word for you: gasoline. It's a great day when gas is ONLY $2.25, isn't it my fellow sheep?! Hey, everybody,I got a great deal on gas today - it was only $2.19! Huh?! What?! Exsqueeze me?! Since when is that a good deal? I'll tell you when - When you compare it to the hosejob we were getting when it was $2.99, that's when! Our European friends have no sympathy for us because they've been getting hosed for years. I'm sure Jean-Claude is having a laugh over his croissant at us Yankee dogs having to pay that much for a gallon of petrol. Bite me, Jean-Cleaude!
I actually went to http://www.energy.ca.gov/gasoline/margins/ to understand the price breakdown of gasoline. According to this highly informational website, the two big components of gas PRICE are refining and crude oil. (Please see above where I mention that cost and price don't have anything to do with each other...) Makes sense. A couple months ago, those poor bastards in New Orleans had to dodge flying oil rigs which cut into the daily production of crude oil - I understand that. Apparently, though, the big oil companies are able to still eke out a little money at this game because both British Petroleum (BP) and Exxon Mobil (XOM) are back to trading at the same price as they were prior to the Hurricane-o-Rama. As a matter of fact, for the first month after Katrina hit, both stocks increased in value. If you're a stockholder, you'll be happy to know that both are trading about $20 higher than where they were 2 years ago. If you're just a schlub like me driving a bunch of miles to work every day, you might not care so much.
I'm convinced that the CEO's of the oil companies got together and created those hurricanes themselves. I can just picture them setting down their brandy snifters just long enough to wring their hands together as they discuss ways to create an "emergency" so they can drive up prices:
Oil CEO #1 (while wringing hands): I need more money. $1000000000000 isn't enough!
Oil CEO #2 (in full hand-wringing mode): I'm as rich as God! Too bad I can't control the weather like God does."
Oil CEO #1: That's it, by Jiminy! I'll have one of my minions create a few hurricanes!
Oil CEO #2: Great idea! Just don't let that punk George Bush screw it up! He'll have everyone out buying hybrids. That boy seems to have forgotten how he got his money to buy his presidency!
Oil CEO #1: Good point. I'll make sure that it hits New Orleans. Lots of Black people there and you know how George hates them!
Louis Farakhan: Yeah, and George blew up the levees too!
Believe me, I don't know what the "right" price is for that delicious mocha latte' that I drink or for the gasoline that my car drinks. There are some things that are priced correctly, I think. I just can't think of any right now. Maybe something that falls off the back of the truck or that your friend gets for you through his brother-in-law's cousin's girlfriend's step-father. I have a friend who hooks me up for seats to the Detroit Pistons games. I could give a rat's ass about the Pistons but when it says "Comp" where it usually says $37.50, I know the price is right! I have another friend who is a bartender at the Rosebud in Grand Haven. He usually throws a beer my way when I come in. Do I think that the tasty Sierra Nevada Pale Ale is worth $3.50 out of the tap when I can get a six-pack for $7 at the grocery store? No sirree, Bob. Do I think that it's worth free? Damn skippy!
Let's review: I hate overpriced stuff. I like capitalism. I hate getting hosed. I like taking advantage of my friends when they give me free stuff. If you own an oil refinery I'll be your bestest friend! In the meantime, I'm going to load up on a bunch of plastic bottles that cost 5 cents, print some labels that say "John's Water" for 2 cents, fill the bottles at my kitchen sink for a penny and sell it to Louis Farakhan for $1.25 a bottle. If he buys a gross of them, I'll knock it down to a buck apiece. Due to this dramatic loss of revenue, I'd have to skip the week in Aspen this year but I'm willing to cut old Louis a deal because I'm just a hell of a guy!
As I said in an earlier post, I am addicted to mocha latte's from Starbucks. I love them. If I could, I would marry a mocha latte'. I would buy it a ring, walk down the aisle with it and exchange vows with it. After a nice reception and dancing to the chicken dance, we would jet off to the Mediterranean for a week and then settle down for a nice little life. However, besides that I hate the frickin' chicken dance, I couldn't afford it. I've already resigned myself to the fact that my kids will be going to community college because I spend so much money on VentiNonfatNowhipMochaLatte's. Imagine how much I would spend if I was married to it! If those things weren't so damned overpriced, though, my kids could still attend a good college. Which brings me to today's silliness.
I work in the auto industry, the most screwed-up industry in the world. Understanding and reducing cost is a big part of my job and one of the things that I've learned is that cost and price don't have anything to do with each other. Boys and girls, how much do you think it costs to make that beloved mocha latte' of mine? Let's just make some big broad guesses, shall we? For the purposes of today's discussion, we'll leave out the cost of the herion. Milk = 25 cents, mocha goodness = 50 cents, cup = 10 cents, lid = 5 cents, java jacket = 5 cents. According to my cypherin' that adds up to a cool 95 cents. Ok, maybe I have to add in 25 cents to send to Mecca (that would be Starbuck's HQ) for various marketing and overhead crap. Now I'm up to $1.20. MSRP on this stuff is $3.55. That means that Mr. Starbuck is getting $2.35 in profit for every one they sell! Good God, people!! Perhaps the UAW wokers at Delphi should start making mocha latte's instead of poorly-designed, poorly-manufactured widgets for the overstuffed, backwards-thinking, fat-cats at GM! Imagine a whole factory churning out mocha latte's with 200% profit margin on every one. Mind you, Delphi would surely screw it up given enough time, but for a while that would be a sweet gig!
Don't get me wrong, I'm a big fan of capitalism. This is true despite some graffiti that I saw in Ann Arbor way back when I was in school that said simply "capitalism, schmapitalism" that still makes me chuckle today. I also understand the whole concept of supply and demand but I'm not prepared to pull a Rosa Parks and boycott Starbuck's. She is a bigger man than I am in that regard and she's dead and a woman besides! If you can make a buck or two or three, my brother, you just go right ahead. I just don't like it when it's so obvious. If you're going to screw me, at least turn out the lights so I don't see you doing it!
What's worse than getting hosed by overpriced stuff is when the price of really overpriced stuff goes down so it's only overpriced instead of really overpriced. I have one word for you: gasoline. It's a great day when gas is ONLY $2.25, isn't it my fellow sheep?! Hey, everybody,I got a great deal on gas today - it was only $2.19! Huh?! What?! Exsqueeze me?! Since when is that a good deal? I'll tell you when - When you compare it to the hosejob we were getting when it was $2.99, that's when! Our European friends have no sympathy for us because they've been getting hosed for years. I'm sure Jean-Claude is having a laugh over his croissant at us Yankee dogs having to pay that much for a gallon of petrol. Bite me, Jean-Cleaude!
I actually went to http://www.energy.ca.gov/gasoline/margins/ to understand the price breakdown of gasoline. According to this highly informational website, the two big components of gas PRICE are refining and crude oil. (Please see above where I mention that cost and price don't have anything to do with each other...) Makes sense. A couple months ago, those poor bastards in New Orleans had to dodge flying oil rigs which cut into the daily production of crude oil - I understand that. Apparently, though, the big oil companies are able to still eke out a little money at this game because both British Petroleum (BP) and Exxon Mobil (XOM) are back to trading at the same price as they were prior to the Hurricane-o-Rama. As a matter of fact, for the first month after Katrina hit, both stocks increased in value. If you're a stockholder, you'll be happy to know that both are trading about $20 higher than where they were 2 years ago. If you're just a schlub like me driving a bunch of miles to work every day, you might not care so much.
I'm convinced that the CEO's of the oil companies got together and created those hurricanes themselves. I can just picture them setting down their brandy snifters just long enough to wring their hands together as they discuss ways to create an "emergency" so they can drive up prices:
Oil CEO #1 (while wringing hands): I need more money. $1000000000000 isn't enough!
Oil CEO #2 (in full hand-wringing mode): I'm as rich as God! Too bad I can't control the weather like God does."
Oil CEO #1: That's it, by Jiminy! I'll have one of my minions create a few hurricanes!
Oil CEO #2: Great idea! Just don't let that punk George Bush screw it up! He'll have everyone out buying hybrids. That boy seems to have forgotten how he got his money to buy his presidency!
Oil CEO #1: Good point. I'll make sure that it hits New Orleans. Lots of Black people there and you know how George hates them!
Louis Farakhan: Yeah, and George blew up the levees too!
Believe me, I don't know what the "right" price is for that delicious mocha latte' that I drink or for the gasoline that my car drinks. There are some things that are priced correctly, I think. I just can't think of any right now. Maybe something that falls off the back of the truck or that your friend gets for you through his brother-in-law's cousin's girlfriend's step-father. I have a friend who hooks me up for seats to the Detroit Pistons games. I could give a rat's ass about the Pistons but when it says "Comp" where it usually says $37.50, I know the price is right! I have another friend who is a bartender at the Rosebud in Grand Haven. He usually throws a beer my way when I come in. Do I think that the tasty Sierra Nevada Pale Ale is worth $3.50 out of the tap when I can get a six-pack for $7 at the grocery store? No sirree, Bob. Do I think that it's worth free? Damn skippy!
Let's review: I hate overpriced stuff. I like capitalism. I hate getting hosed. I like taking advantage of my friends when they give me free stuff. If you own an oil refinery I'll be your bestest friend! In the meantime, I'm going to load up on a bunch of plastic bottles that cost 5 cents, print some labels that say "John's Water" for 2 cents, fill the bottles at my kitchen sink for a penny and sell it to Louis Farakhan for $1.25 a bottle. If he buys a gross of them, I'll knock it down to a buck apiece. Due to this dramatic loss of revenue, I'd have to skip the week in Aspen this year but I'm willing to cut old Louis a deal because I'm just a hell of a guy!
Wednesday, November 02, 2005
Dig: T-shirts With Sayings On Them
Love t-shirts. I'm a t-shirt kind of guy. As much as I am a middle management suck-ass and wear plenty of "dressy" shirts to work, I am Mr. T-Shirt Man on the weekends. In addition to being a suck-ass, perhaps you've noticed that I'm also a smart-ass. And since I am wasting your time writing about not becoming a dentist (even though my "friend" Mark thought it was too wordy), I also dig manipulating the English language. Thus, I am a big fan of funny, sarcastic, t-shirts with well-written messages on them. I'll provide a few examples for clarification:
I'm With Stupid. A classic. Short and to the point. Of course, without the arrow pointing to the sorry sap who happens to be next to you, the whole point is lost. Hilarity ensues when two people are walking down the sidewalk, one of whom has the t-shirt on pointing to his hapless sidekick! Back in the day, this probably wouldn't be on my list of faves, but now it harkens back to a simpler time when only girls had pierced ears. Next time I see Mark, I'm going to make sure I'm wearing this shirt and stand next to him all day long.
Frankie Say Relax. Not so much. I love the '80's. In fact, I love the VH1 show "I Love the '80's". Loved the song even after I understood all the homosexual references. However, the neon, oversized t-shirt hasn't made the translation well. Maybe in another ten years, this will be a classic just like the I'm With Stupid shirt but, for now, it's best used for wiping out the cupboards one last time prior to moving out of your basement apartment.
Anything Really Old With The Date On It Telling The Reader How Old It Is. I have two examples for you. The first is my own t-shirt celebrating U-Michigan winning the basketball national championship. Anyone remember that? That was prior to Chris Weber and all of his shenanigans. 1989. Yep, 16 years ago. I was in my fourth (not to be confused with "senior") year at Michigan and have fond memories of the riot that took place after Rumeal Robinson made the winning free throws. Still have the shirt. Don't wear it anymore but I still have it, doggone it. I'll break it out for the right occasion though. Like when Michigan wins another basketball championship. Or when monkeys fly out of my butt. My second example is also sports related. I once saw a guy wearing a Cleveland Browns t-shirt celebrating a divisional championship in 1981. This is significant because the year was 1996. This die-hard Browns fan was wearing a 15-year-old t-shirt. Nice! That's dedication, people. A shirt that age just screams "Even though the Browns suck now and are leaving Cleveland under the dark of night to move to Baltimore, I'm going to hold on to the glory years of 1981 and, for that matter, I'm going to compare everything in my life to how good it was 15 years ago when all the cars had V-8's and you could work on them yourself before we got all these damn rice burners on the road!" Yes, I realize that it doesn't exactly roll off the tongue to scream a sentence that long, but you get my point.
The Such-and Such 5k/10k/Marathon, etc. T-Shirt. I mention this category of t-shirt because I have about 15 of these myself. These shirts are "given away" to anyone running in one of these events. Since they are supposedly freebies, the price is definitely right because they are pretty nerdy. Each one has a logo showing some guy running and a list of the various causes or sponsors. They may have a different picture and different sponsors, but they all fall under the heading of "ran the race, got the t-shirt". I'm working my way up to a marathon so maybe that one will have some sentimental meaning to me, but otherwise these are worth as much as you paid for them. If I wear my "Susan Komen Breast Cancer Awareness 5k, Grand Rapids, Michigan" t-shirt with my gay-ass Timex Ironman digital watch and my running shoes and shorty socks, I look like a real dork. Some people might say I'm a dork no matter what I wear, but I just tell them to shut up.
Pseudo Gas Station/Surf Shop/Bar T-shirts. Don't waste my time with fakes. American Eagle Outfitters has a bunch of these and so does Old Navy. A t-shirt from Bud's Amoco in Wichita is sweet but only if Bud has one himself so you can look like Bud. And who doesn't want to blend in with gas station attendants?! In Grand Haven, we have a bar called the Tip-A-Few Tavern. If you're looking for a fight, that would be the place to go. They make really strong drinks and the air is so thick with smoke, you chew it more than breathe it. Great place. Their t-shirts say something about having really good burritos, which is true - their burritos kick ass. That makes their t-shirts cool. However, if the marketing department at Old Navy printed the very same t-shirt, it would suck. Part of having a cool t-shirt is visiting the place so you can tell people about it when they ask you if the burritos are any good. Same thing goes for the Bad-Ass Coffee Shop in Destin, Florida. Yes, they have cool t-shirts by virtue of their name. And I can vouch for their mocha latte's too.
Hard Rock Cafe T-shirts. This is a toughie. The Hard Rock has gotten pretty corporate and has kind of sold out to The Man. Anymore, one HRC isn't much different than another. All of them have impossibly small purple jumpsuits from Prince, bustiers from Madonna and guitars from Ratt (speaking of the 80's). I think that the farther away from the actual Cafe, the cooler the t-shirt is. I have two HRC t-shirts right now - one from London and one from Stockholm, so those might be a little cooler than one from Chicago or Detroit (please see a map of the US to confirm that I live closer to Chicago and Detroit than London or Stockholm). Maybe I'll work out a little deal with the other white-bread people in the suburbs of Stockholm.... For what it's worth, I also have a t-shirt from the now-defunct All-Star Cafe. Myrtle Beach. Got it in 1998.
Concert T-shirts. Another classic. Cheesy, yet classic. Again, I've had my share of these over the years, but the only one I own right now is from a Jimmy Buffett concert outside of Chicago. I saw Jimmy at Wrigley Field this summer and thought about buying a shirt. Cooler heads prevailed, though. Similar to the 5k genre, the only thing that changes on these t-shirts is the artist and the list of dates and venues. Oh, and the price. Better stop off and apply for a loan on the way to the concert so you can buy a t-shirt because these things are way overpriced. Generally, I'm going to say that concert t-'s are out unless you have one from when The Ramones played CBGB in 1972 or something. That would be sweet.
Obscure Things/Sayings That Are Just Out There T-shirts. Perhaps my favorite t-shirt is a mustard yellow shirt that shows how to open a Presta bike tube valve. On the back of the t-shirt is a regular (Schraeder) valve next to a Presta valve with an arrow pointing to the Presta with the word "unscrew" next to it. I'm sure you're saying "Huh?" right about now. You might also be saying "Who would want a t-shirt with stupid stuff on it?" Further, you might say "That dude is a nut job!". My point exactly! An instant favorite! That's why the Old Navy fakes suck - they don't mean anything to the wearer. It's just Mr. Old Navy being a poser.
Got a favorite t-shirt? Let me know.
I'm With Stupid. A classic. Short and to the point. Of course, without the arrow pointing to the sorry sap who happens to be next to you, the whole point is lost. Hilarity ensues when two people are walking down the sidewalk, one of whom has the t-shirt on pointing to his hapless sidekick! Back in the day, this probably wouldn't be on my list of faves, but now it harkens back to a simpler time when only girls had pierced ears. Next time I see Mark, I'm going to make sure I'm wearing this shirt and stand next to him all day long.
Frankie Say Relax. Not so much. I love the '80's. In fact, I love the VH1 show "I Love the '80's". Loved the song even after I understood all the homosexual references. However, the neon, oversized t-shirt hasn't made the translation well. Maybe in another ten years, this will be a classic just like the I'm With Stupid shirt but, for now, it's best used for wiping out the cupboards one last time prior to moving out of your basement apartment.
Anything Really Old With The Date On It Telling The Reader How Old It Is. I have two examples for you. The first is my own t-shirt celebrating U-Michigan winning the basketball national championship. Anyone remember that? That was prior to Chris Weber and all of his shenanigans. 1989. Yep, 16 years ago. I was in my fourth (not to be confused with "senior") year at Michigan and have fond memories of the riot that took place after Rumeal Robinson made the winning free throws. Still have the shirt. Don't wear it anymore but I still have it, doggone it. I'll break it out for the right occasion though. Like when Michigan wins another basketball championship. Or when monkeys fly out of my butt. My second example is also sports related. I once saw a guy wearing a Cleveland Browns t-shirt celebrating a divisional championship in 1981. This is significant because the year was 1996. This die-hard Browns fan was wearing a 15-year-old t-shirt. Nice! That's dedication, people. A shirt that age just screams "Even though the Browns suck now and are leaving Cleveland under the dark of night to move to Baltimore, I'm going to hold on to the glory years of 1981 and, for that matter, I'm going to compare everything in my life to how good it was 15 years ago when all the cars had V-8's and you could work on them yourself before we got all these damn rice burners on the road!" Yes, I realize that it doesn't exactly roll off the tongue to scream a sentence that long, but you get my point.
The Such-and Such 5k/10k/Marathon, etc. T-Shirt. I mention this category of t-shirt because I have about 15 of these myself. These shirts are "given away" to anyone running in one of these events. Since they are supposedly freebies, the price is definitely right because they are pretty nerdy. Each one has a logo showing some guy running and a list of the various causes or sponsors. They may have a different picture and different sponsors, but they all fall under the heading of "ran the race, got the t-shirt". I'm working my way up to a marathon so maybe that one will have some sentimental meaning to me, but otherwise these are worth as much as you paid for them. If I wear my "Susan Komen Breast Cancer Awareness 5k, Grand Rapids, Michigan" t-shirt with my gay-ass Timex Ironman digital watch and my running shoes and shorty socks, I look like a real dork. Some people might say I'm a dork no matter what I wear, but I just tell them to shut up.
Pseudo Gas Station/Surf Shop/Bar T-shirts. Don't waste my time with fakes. American Eagle Outfitters has a bunch of these and so does Old Navy. A t-shirt from Bud's Amoco in Wichita is sweet but only if Bud has one himself so you can look like Bud. And who doesn't want to blend in with gas station attendants?! In Grand Haven, we have a bar called the Tip-A-Few Tavern. If you're looking for a fight, that would be the place to go. They make really strong drinks and the air is so thick with smoke, you chew it more than breathe it. Great place. Their t-shirts say something about having really good burritos, which is true - their burritos kick ass. That makes their t-shirts cool. However, if the marketing department at Old Navy printed the very same t-shirt, it would suck. Part of having a cool t-shirt is visiting the place so you can tell people about it when they ask you if the burritos are any good. Same thing goes for the Bad-Ass Coffee Shop in Destin, Florida. Yes, they have cool t-shirts by virtue of their name. And I can vouch for their mocha latte's too.
Hard Rock Cafe T-shirts. This is a toughie. The Hard Rock has gotten pretty corporate and has kind of sold out to The Man. Anymore, one HRC isn't much different than another. All of them have impossibly small purple jumpsuits from Prince, bustiers from Madonna and guitars from Ratt (speaking of the 80's). I think that the farther away from the actual Cafe, the cooler the t-shirt is. I have two HRC t-shirts right now - one from London and one from Stockholm, so those might be a little cooler than one from Chicago or Detroit (please see a map of the US to confirm that I live closer to Chicago and Detroit than London or Stockholm). Maybe I'll work out a little deal with the other white-bread people in the suburbs of Stockholm.... For what it's worth, I also have a t-shirt from the now-defunct All-Star Cafe. Myrtle Beach. Got it in 1998.
Concert T-shirts. Another classic. Cheesy, yet classic. Again, I've had my share of these over the years, but the only one I own right now is from a Jimmy Buffett concert outside of Chicago. I saw Jimmy at Wrigley Field this summer and thought about buying a shirt. Cooler heads prevailed, though. Similar to the 5k genre, the only thing that changes on these t-shirts is the artist and the list of dates and venues. Oh, and the price. Better stop off and apply for a loan on the way to the concert so you can buy a t-shirt because these things are way overpriced. Generally, I'm going to say that concert t-'s are out unless you have one from when The Ramones played CBGB in 1972 or something. That would be sweet.
Obscure Things/Sayings That Are Just Out There T-shirts. Perhaps my favorite t-shirt is a mustard yellow shirt that shows how to open a Presta bike tube valve. On the back of the t-shirt is a regular (Schraeder) valve next to a Presta valve with an arrow pointing to the Presta with the word "unscrew" next to it. I'm sure you're saying "Huh?" right about now. You might also be saying "Who would want a t-shirt with stupid stuff on it?" Further, you might say "That dude is a nut job!". My point exactly! An instant favorite! That's why the Old Navy fakes suck - they don't mean anything to the wearer. It's just Mr. Old Navy being a poser.
Got a favorite t-shirt? Let me know.
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