A Very Bad Troll

So I am a bad troll, but not a very bad troll.

Examples of being a bad troll:

 

Example 1. This is an update of my previous replies to a comment made to this article. My replies are attached directly to the original comment.

iowan4u1234 Tue Oct 26, 2010 [original post]

Send the muslim slim back to their sand dunes.
If they do not like western values why do they come here, They want to force their cult on the rest of us.
They offer the rest of the world nothing but to go back to the middle ages.

j Ridge [this one's me]Tue Oct 26, 2010

Ironically if it wasn't for the Middle East, the west would still be in the Middle Ages. Thank them for the very least for preserving Greek literature that was used as the source for modern democracy. Also I assume you don't drive an automobile or eat food that was delivered by trucks? But I am sure you don't use slimy oil.

Ayden Tue Oct 26, 2010

J Ridge, What does this have anything to do with modern day Muslims? They are different and less open now then they were during that period.

j Ridge Tue Oct 26, 2010

Maybe you can focus on the part where they have all our oil. If the roots of intertwined cultures isn't relevant enough for you.

Ayden Tue Oct 26, 2010

You either need to back to school, are about 19 years old, slightly retarded, or just crazy. Maybe all the above. What does anything you have to say pertain to Muslims wanting Religion in French Public schools??

 

Here is the response that I wrote but didn't post:

Hey you is write, Ayden. I am a 19 year young colwidge drop out with 43 chromosomes. Or 45. I am too estupid to know the difference. Here I am responding to Iowans intelligent anti Muslim remarks directly when I should be focusing on "modern" day Muslims. Apparently they do give us nothing (because oil is nothing) and we supposedly have nothing to gain from them (nothing modern anyway). History is as retarded as me, because I am retarded, I bow to your superior age, college intellect, sanity, and correct number of chromosomes. Oh and I am Looney Tunes!

BTW, in the end I couldn't resist posting something mocking him so I posted this: All of the above. I am a 19-year-old college dropout, who hears voices and has the incorrect number of chromosomes. Good call. I yield to your superior intellect.

 

Example 2. On Facebook a friend posted something about the fall weather in England.

So in my normal dumb way, I made the following reply: I thought it was spring in England. You know because you are on a different hemisphere.

Anyone who knows me, knows I am estupid but not that stupid. But someone still chose to correct me on my apparently unapparent joke as follows: That's only north/south.

My options are 1) Not do anything (boring) 2) Troll the heck out of her by calling her wrong (not nice: see examples below) 3) explain I was kidding and not really dumb (in this one case) or 4) make a joke that everyone will appreciate (e.g., what do you get when you cross a vampire and a snowman? . . .frostbite.)

Here is a list of troll responses I could have used:

Um. . .No, you're thinking of global warming, which is just a myth cooked up by Obama and his henchmen.

No, that is the civil war. Learn your history, dum dum.

Yikes. I don't even know what to say to that. You must be either 19, go back school, retarded, or crazy or all of the above.

What are you a witch? You can't just change the season with your voodoo magic, Christina O'Douls.

 

Anyway, in the end I went with the following: Yeah but isn't England closer to the sun?

So I am a troll after all. But not a very bad one; maybe just a bad one. One day I can shoot for being just a decent troll. Or a good troll even.

Troll Fest 2010!

Reply to This

So I was reading an article about what little jerks Muslim children supposedly are. It's nice to know Europe is as (actually way more) xenophobic than the U.S. It actually fills me with a little American pride for once.

Anyway so I actually made some replies to some of the dumb comments crazy raging idiots were making on the story. I went with the new user name J Ridge (the J stands for injustice). I gave the "people" I replied to new nicknames below except for the first guy, because it was funny as is. Just so you know, everything I say is always sarcastic (except for this sentence I am typing now).

 

JUSUS THE CHRISTIANS (real screen name): moslems have the right to practice their religion, the same as christians have the right to practise christianity in moslems countries..........So why worry..................I think christians worrying about the rise of islam everywhere, thousands and thousands converted to islam everyday and nobody going to the church anymore

J Ridge: It is one thing to practice your religion; it is another to demand that others practice it for you. [I can't believe I didn't comment on his awesome screen name].

 

Seven of three: When I started kindergarten 50 years ago I didn't speak a word of English and neither did my mother. We knew what we had to do: learn, and ASSIMILATE. And we did. We appreciated the opportunities and freedom from oppression that certain cultures would rather throw away in ignorance.

J Ridge: Thank you! Finally someone has taken the sound advice from the Borg. Good work 9 of 15.

 

Farmer Ted: France: DO NOT CATER TO THESE ANIMALS!!!

The moment you let the barbarian invaders start dictating your own internal policy, YOU ARE LOST!!!

J Ridge: The moment you begin calling fellow human beings animals, is the moment you begin acting as a farmer. Maybe they should be rounded up and concentrated in camps?

 

Ugly and intolerant: This is the ugly side of tolerance. Despite the rumors tolerance will not lead to a utopian world society.

J Ridge: That is so true. I say murder them all in their sleep. That will make the utopia you want. . . .Tolerance is so stupid. I say let's be hateful. That is the answer. Right on man!

 

Bloody Hands: Typical of those people....biting the hand that signs their welfare checks. If they refuse to assimilate to French society they should be deported to whatever third world rat-hole they oozed out of. The West does not need them or want them polluting our culture.

J Ridge: Yes but how can we cleanse them from the earth entirely? Nukes might work.

 

Signs of “Great”ness

So we all know I am a fig fatso. But now I know. And here are the five signs of my great-and-spaciousness. Hint: the theme is mostly that I eat while doing everything. (All this typing is making me hungry).

1) I can't take a shower without at least one popsicle sticking to my hair. How do you expect me to shower without one?! Ten minutes is a long time to go without a snack.

2) I can't use the bathroom scale because the little screen is covered in melted chocolate. Mmm chocolate. Time to lick it clean. Just kidding. No really I promise. I have a giant bag of M&Ms to stay the tide of hunger. Mmm chocolate.

3) I don't have to decide between Burger King and McDonald's for lunch. I get both! McWhopper anyone?

4) The stains on my shirt could feed a Cambodian family for days. But they really don't eat much so it is not as impressive as it sounds.

5) Chuckles laughs at me when I undress to shower. And he taunts me, "you want some of this puppy, fat boy? Hahahaha!" Chuckles can be so cruel. And I am a man. Fat man, Chuckles! I know he plans on eating that poor puppy. And no I don't want any (Chinese food only makes you hungry again half an hour later anyway).

That Thing I Wanted to Volunteer for

So when I was a Teaching English major, for like a whole day and half (actually more like two semesters) I thought it would be "awesome" to do Teach for America. If you don't know, that's the organization where they take volunteers and stick them in the worst schools with the worst kids. Ever. Then I thought I might do the Peace Corps (more like corpse). I took one look at the hippie recruiter and was like no thanks; I thought hippies hated "the man"? When did they start working for him for nearly free? I even thought about giving myself that foreign mission I always wanted and teach communists English but I don't love Chinese food that much (they don't even have orange chicken there!). Anyway after I got sense knocked into me and got a real job, I still wish I could sorta make a difference kinda.

It is somewhat fitting that I work in assessment development for a university that serves an underserved demographic. Still I feel like I am letting those delightful downtown delinquents down somehow.

But then some geek on the radio was talking today about how he was a quote-unquote accidental prison librarian. I am not quite sure what the accident was. I see an accident as more of slip and fall down the stairs situation, not so much I chose of my own free will to work as a librarian in a prison, but whatever; I digest. Who am I to criticize his book title (I am Jonathan BTW)?

So then I think that sounds fun. And people call in and share their experiences in the prison system and whatnot. Now I begin to recall the scripture that always bothered me (mostly because I was too busy slash scared to do so), the one about visiting people in prison and how that makes me a goat for not doing.

So I looked it up and I totally want to help reformed rapists read (can't rape if you're too addicted to Harry Potter to put it down). If I can't reach them before turning to crime, I figure the next best thing is to reach them while incarcerated.

I can totally do that. But not right now, because I am busy. These blogs aren't gonna write themselves.

Or can they? As my next project I will work on creating a self-writing blog. Once that is up and running, volunteering to feed the homeless or whatever it was I wanted to do will be a snap!

Troll Fest 2010

OK so I learned what the word troll means today.

Not this troll. Or this one. Or even this one.

Now, apparently it is someone who says stuff on the Internet of computers to purposefully get an emotional response out of another cyber individual. That is a terrible thing to do. I guess. Actually it sounds kind of fun (and as you will see below, was kind of fun). But then again, I am a huge jerk so, well, there ya go.

Here is the Facebook interaction I had earlier today with someone. As you will see, as soon as I learned what trolling was, I really took hold of the idea.

(Let's change the name of the other guy for safety sake.)

First a tad more background. Someone had posted a link explaining that terrorism exists only because Muslims hate our foreign policy. Well sure they do. And the terrorists are also kind of a little crazy too. Maybe that's a controversial way of thinking (apparently?) but it seems fairly reasonable that someone willing to commit mass murder is a one scoop of paprika shy of a Tzatziki, am I right! I looked up the recipe (paprika is important).

Anyway so here is what happened when I made one comment about the possibility of a slight schism in the perception of reality by a small group of individuals who spent a little too much time in the sun getting yelled at (or too much time in a cave yelling at).

I had to look up the term. Then I couldn't resist the urge to actually troll him with my last comment about the apology. Now that's some good trolling right? Right? You're dumb! Ha, react to that negatively! Sorry, getting carried away with the trolling a bit.

But did Poop Noggin mean we were trolling, or just me? I pretended it was just him (that's the trolling part). Because I was just trying to make a simple point that the actual terrorists who represent a small portion of the Islamic world are a little crazy then we had to go and start a whole festival in celebration of trolls (just like a Scandinavian we is). Anyway I like the idea that he meant just me. That would mean I was an entire troll fest all by myself.

Troll Fest 2010!

Near the Ball

So Rachel blogged about procrastination. [Insert joke here about writing blog later or in some way procrastinating. I'll do it later. Hahaha]. Anyway, yeah procrastination is indeed the best way to go.

So here am I. I have been going to college for over a decade now. That's a long time. And when you've been going this long, it's easy to say, "hey, what's thirteen more semesters?"

Why the frig did it take so long? And why the frig aren't I done yet? What's a frig? [Answer: a cross between a fig and a frog].

Well there are a lot of reasons. I mostly paid my own way through school with cash. I worked full time, schooled part time. So there's that. Also I technically started college before high school (I have a bunch of swimming and weightlifting and swimnastics [don't ask, don't tell] classes that used to count for PE credits until they dropped that requirement).

Also I didn't know what I wanted to do when I started so I made a goal to take every intro level course available. I took intro to sociology, into to psychology, intro to philosophy, intro to government, intro to anthropology, etc. I stopped short of intro to cattle prodding theatrics and intro to underwater plant microeconomics.

Anyway, so now I got my last two classes to finish up. I got my German 202 class: the trick is ignoring the fact that I can't speak a lick o' Deutsch long enough to sneak in a C. Also I received an incomplete on my English major senior course capstone last fall. That gives me a year to complete it, thought my professor urged me not to put it off. I just have to turn in my research paper on Otello.

Ten months later and I got 12 pages of gibberish. At this rate I should graduate in a mere 23 months. No, seriously though, I need to get on or at least very near the ball.

The only way I can finish this assignment is if I feel a dramatic sense of urgency. I felt that before when I wrote the first 10 pages but then realized I had more time. I need to trick my brain into thinking I am in the 11th hour with 30 seconds on the clock in sudden death overtime, blitztkrieg and rain falling on the arc. Or I can just wait until the literal last minute.

I hope those mixed metaphors sum it up. Anyway, I have some other things that need to get done right now! No I guess I can do them later.

To the Moon, Baby!

So Rachel bought me cute baby "Rocket Rattle."

Um not to sound too much like a baby, but this so called rattle, is not a rattle at all! It doesn't rattle. It squeaks, like a doggie chew toy.

I am no doggie.

One of these days, Rachel. Bang, zip, right to the moon! Just kidding I would never domestically abuse my wife allll the way to the moon. To Chicago maybe, but not past the stratosphere. Call me a softy, but that is taking wifely discipline just simply too far.

Seriously though, she got those bruises from giving blood, I promise. (Oh she gave blood all right and she is gonna give more).

I am not mad. I like the toy. Which is why I originally sent the following "joke" to Rachel via email conversation after I was looking for cute baby gift ideas:

Me: Can we buy this?

http://shop.nordstrom.com/S/3129819?origin=category&resultback=5534

Rachel: Sure! For our future babies or for Nitsy's?

Me: Babies? I meant for me.

Ha! I am just so darn funny.

Now I am sure she got my kiddery, but lo and behold, I got the little thing in the mail yesterday (because I hadn't ordered anything, I was worried it was a very light bomb or perhaps some white toxin [no really I was worried]). Thanks Rachel! (for the happy surprise not the unwelcome anxiety).

And since we don't have two for the Nitsy spawn (twiners), it would be unfair to give them only one rocket. They'd fight (baby fights are the worst). So I'll have to hold onto the rocket until our own children begin existing (one at a time).

The Proof is Near the Pudding

Let me begin by saying that this blog post is part farcical, part observation, part objection to ridiculous conclusions, and part my own ridiculous conclusion posted straw maniacally. I say that tongue near cheek. Please don't get puffy and huffy over it. On a side note, puffins are cute.

So to begin, a BYU professor (of all people) has determined that being gay is caused by genetics and not a choice. This is kinda old news in the fact that mostly rednecks hold fast completely to the "ye chose to be a homoerotisizer. I only sleep with my daughters not sons" theory. Aside from these fanatical hillbillies in their prefabricated (read: mobile home) laboratories (read: lavatories) there is actual research which may actually come up with something better than what has been proven so far. Also don't refer to hillbillies' mobile homes as "prefab" because only the gays use the word "fab."

Anyway the proof is an interesting correlation between gays and "non-righthandedness" (the word from the scientist). Basically gays are more likely to be left handed. Also lesbians are more like to have man hands (wow what a surprise there). OK, I guess. So the gay gene is in the fingernails. Where's my holy nail trimmers! That is interesting but I wouldn't call that proof so much as either a possible (probable) connection or a very surprising coincidence.

His proof of non-choice: Gays are 38% more likely to use their left hands than straights. Leftist handism is not a choice: therefore being gay is not a choice.

Here is my proof of choice: 75% of gays join the fashion industry. They chose the fashion industry, so being gay is a choice.

Here is a fact: correlation does not equal cause and effect. Still I think he is probably right, and only because I already knew that it wasn't like gay people said to themselves, "I am gonna start talking in a high voice [or low voices for lesbian] and become attracted to my same gender." But then again, what aspect of our lives did we choose that way? I didn't decide to be "funny." I didn't decide to be fat. I didn't decide to be brown. I didn't decide to be a jerk. I never decided to do a lot of things that I am. At least not consciously. But here I am a result of a combination of my genetic makeup, my environment, and my choices (consciously or subconsciously made). I don't think we want to relegate ourselves to biomechanical robots running synchronized preset programs do we?

And it sounds like BYU professor really wants to prove it's not the gays faults so we will be nice to them. That's irrelevant for two reasons. 1) We shouldn't treat them any differently if it is caused by genes or environment or abuse or whatever (we should love them anyway) and 2) the hillbillies ain't gonna listen to your science when the good book tells them otherwise anyway.

So as we all know science has long been the Achilles hill of unorganized religion. But it shouldn't be just because science changes its precepts literally every day (minute?).

Now the libs (including our beloved fringe Mormons) desperately want gayness to be a genetic thing. And many conservatives want it to be a choice so they can call it a sin. Like the theory of evolution, there is only a perceived conflict. Multiple LDS general authorities have already stated that it might be related to genetics. Yeah and? So what if it caused by a "birth defect" as it must be the case. They have already shown that a myriad of other things are genetic (e.g., alcoholism). Doesn't make it a good thing.

I used the word birth defect because that is how the gay rights supporters are treating it. If they felt strongly that there was nothing wrong with their unchosen lifestyle, they wouldn't have to justify it all, let alone with the "it's not my fault; I was born that way" mentality. Why is it so important that everything about you is the result of a mere genetic roll of the die? It makes everyone's life sound trivial. Now I feel helpless. I have no control over who I am! Sorry, but I was born to shout that. Not my fault.

And natural evolution (ironically because libs love evolution) would show that the animals (humans are animals) that fail to mate and propagate with the opposite gender are the failures of the species (not my ideas here) but by that logic I guess bisexuals would still spread their genes. So by following that train of thought, the justification "I was born that way," it sounds like being gay is an evolutionary defect at best. Maybe that is how the dinosaurs died out; too many gays triceratops.

Not that we should hate evolutionary defects. If Nietzsche were alive he would say we are coddling all defectives. But we don't do that with our accidental eugenics program (AKA not letting people die AKA health care). Which is good because Jesus wouldn't want us to let the infirm or invalid die regardless of whether they were born that way or lost an arm in the war. Don't blame Nietzsche; he was born with no heart and an addiction to crack.

Besides people are born with all sorts of defects (I think mine are mostly self inflicted) which because of modern technology and the event of civilized economics, is largely a moot point.

So I am not sure if I understand why it is so important to prove that being gay is not a choice. The gays and supporters are basically treating their own lifestyle as a disease! That actually makes me sad. Especially the Mormon gays. They desperately want us to think, oh it's not their fault, they were born that way. Well they already have my deepest sympathy anyway. Their lives kinda suck. I wish their lives weren't so awful. I wish they didn't have to suffer so much. But when they know for sure they didn't choose to have this attraction, what will it change?

One day the proof might be in the pudding, but I guess the proof is just near the pudding for now. Mmmm pudding.

Hipster to be Square

So I really hate it when people blast their music while walking around in public places. Today this hipster, with a messenger bag with a car safety belt for the strap, was playing his hipster music on his hipster iPod. If you are not familiar with the term hipster iPod that's because I just made it up. It is just an iPod held by dirty hipster hands.

So he ended up walking behind me for like ten minutes while I held back the deluge of annoyance while I tried to think of ways to inform hipster dude of his suckiness.

I looked back in anger like three times but to no avail. He thoroughly ignored my casual glance in his direction. Hipster was relentless in his hipstery.

Here are the things I thought of saying/doing, including rationale for not doing so:

1) Couldn't afford the headphones? Obviously iPods come with headphones so this would only open up an opportunity for him to enlighten me on something. Pass.

2) Thanks for sharing your music with the world. I would have to lay the sarcasm on real thick or I might have to hear "you're welcome." I am so unwelcome.

3) Thanks for forcing your [s-wordy] music into my head. Jesus wouldn't like that one.

4) I could have blasted my own music AKA Death Cab for Cutie. But he would have liked that.

5) I almost pretended to call Rachel and allow hipster to drop some eaves on this: "sorry can you speak up, some hipster is listening to his crappy music loudly without headphones. I think he didn't get enough attention as a child. And he is wearing a seat belt around his shoulder, trying to be alternative." This goes back to Jesus not being happy with me (see option 3).

6) I could have said nothing, while I took his iPhone and tossed it into the duck pond. Then pushed skinny jeans over for good measure. We went down separate paths. Dang.

So I am a bad person who gets annoyed easily. The end.

Wiinners and Loosers

Dearest Rachel,

I am not gonna say told ya so but you might recall that I did so tell you so.

Remember that dumb research study you made us sign up for? Easy money you thought? Well it turns out the study wasn't on the effects of marriage counseling at all but on the effects of torture under false pretenses. Our threshold for pain is actually what is being measured. Why else would they stab me six times (literally) and make us come in at 6 am-ish three times?

Remember when you agreed to buy a Wii with the money we got for doing practically nothing? Yeah, we'll see if you still think "$250 is a lot of money [italics added for emphasis]" after hearing this.

So the research guy called (the guy we weren't planning on hearing from for 12 more weeks when we are scheduled to redrain our veins of life giving liquids). I thought for sure he was gonna need me to come back for some repoking. But when he began trying and failing not to laugh as he said, "I know your wife is going to love this but. . . " I knew my pincushioned arm was safe from further puncture.

I am sorry I was instantly happy when it wasn't me who needed to be re-stabbed. Forgiveth me? Then as soon as I stopped laughing with the guy on the phone I felt really bad, I promise.

The good news: you weren't accidentally infected with the AIDS virus (that we know). Seriously you don't have that.

The bad news: your blood sample sucks. In fact even Edward would be like thanks but no thanks. So you have to get retested at the BYU Health Center A-sap. And you won't be comforted by my comforting comforts because if I remember correctly there isn't room for handholding at the place where they draw blood (like water from a well).

Remember how you almost died yesterday morning? Remember how you have the worst bruises ever, from just two itsy bitsy tiny pokes? Be of good courage, it'll be OK.

So it looks like I am the wiiner today (because I get a Wii and don't have to give any more precious crimson life juice for a while) and you are the well. . .I loove you.

Man, I can't wait to play our new Wii. It's gonna be sweet!

-Your supportive husband

Hyper-Hyphenation

So I drive past the Harley-Davidson dealership every day. And every day I see that big sign with their logo.



So Harley riders have a rep for being bad to the bone marrow. That's cool, especially considering who Harley and the Davidsons are. See pic below that I nabbed from Wikipedia. They look pretty hardcore.

So anyway, this isn't about the nerds that look like they would be eaten by the Hell's Angels. It's about H-D's choice in hyphenation (as if there is even such a thing as choice in hyphenation). Hyphenations should be a strictly enforced law; (I think my next blog will be about why fatalism is dumb). Though Harley's bad-bottom rep, they look like they could know their way around a well-punctuated sentence, right?

Anyway so they hyphenate Harley-Davidison (the names of the founders) but not the split word motorcycles. It's one word (or as we in the biz call it, a closed compound). Actually it might not be considered a closed compound. Whatever. Doesn't matter. Point is that that sucker should either read straight across as motorcycles or be hyphenated if it is broken, implementing correct hyphen usage.

What is their reasoning? They can't hate hyphens, because they chose to hyphenate Harley and Davidson as if Harley married Davidson (which wasn't entirely legal in their day BTW).

So I took the liberty of correcting their logo. Now If only they could edit their giant one off the freeway. How much does a cherry picker cost to rent? And BTW I was kidding about the choice in hyphenation; there actually is a lot of –ugh- choice in somethings (but there shoudn't be a question about whether or not to hyphenate when a word is broken and finished on the next line).

Junkie Flunky

OK so I am a failure at life, life giving that is. I have tried and failed in times past to donate blood to those in need. Unfortunately my blood was too slow. So they threw it away. Apparently if it is not a full bag, then it can't save nobody. And that sucked because it was really hard for them to get any outta me.

Not only is my red sauce super slow, it is impossible to find, like the Holy Grail of hemoglobin (or the hobgoblin of hemoglobin). It always takes the arm stabbers several tries to get that precious human juice. And once they're inside, they just keep poking away in there till something spews out (my veins should be called Old Unfaithful). This morning I was supposed to get tested for this "awesome" study Rachie and I are participating in. Anyway, three stabs and three droplets later, and no crimson gush.

So I am gonna drink a lake full of water and try again Monday morning. Now I look like a freaking junky with these needle wounds. I am a blood flunky who looks like a junkie.

I need another hit man! One last dance with the dragon to kill the pain.

I look crunk and this blog is a flunk.