Life is about having fun....

I've had this particular phone number for 5-6 years now.  Ever since getting this number, I've been getting calls for some dude named Jeremiah.  Sometimes it's a friend of his trying to get in contact and other times its regarding personal business.  Every time this happens, I politely tell them that this is my number and that they will no longer be able to contact Jeremiah using this number.  I got another call for Jeremiah today and I decided to handle it differently.


The phone rings and I answer it on the blue tooth:
(Me) Hello?
(caller) Jeremiah?
(Me) Yeah, who is this?
(caller)  This is Darrell Webster and I am an agent with ****** Collection Agency.  How are you today?
(Me)  I'm great Donald!  Thank you so much for calling.  I've been meaning to get in touch.
(caller)  It's Darrell, Jeremiah, and I would be glad to help you out clear up this debt.
(Me)  I really appreciate that, David.
(caller) It's Darrell....
(Me)  That's right. I'm sorry about that.  Talking about my debt makes me nervous.  Do things like that make you nervous, Dietrich?
(caller)  (Sigh.....) No they don't make me nervous.  I do all I can to stay current on my bills.  Anyways, you have an outstanding balance of $692.49 and I'd like to know how you would like to clear that up today?
(Me)  $692, eh?  That's not outstanding, it's horrible.  If you don't mind me asking, what do you find outstanding about that?
(caller)  What?
(Me)  You said I have an outstanding balance.  Outstanding means good and then you tell me it's $700 bucks or something.  That's a lot of cabbage.  I don't have $700 dollars.
(caller)  Outstanding... a debt... Forget it.... You apparently had some x-rays done in July of 2014 by a medical imaging company and you never paid the bill.  We re now trying to collect these funds.
(Me) Oh, Oh!  The other outstanding. I gotcha.  I kind of wish it was the 'outstanding' I thought it was.
(caller)  Right.  Well, any matter, you do have this debt and we need to discuss your options for paying this debt off .  This type of debt can and will affect your credit rating.  I'd like to help you get out from under this debt.. So, do you have a credit card we can put this on?
(Me)  Wait a second.  You told me you were going to help me get out from under debt and now you're asking me to accrue some debt by using my nearly maxed out credit card.  I think that is a horrible idea and frankly, I'm offended by that suggestion!  Completely irresponsible!
(caller)  What about your bank account, sir?  Do you have a debit card?  Do you want to set up a payment plan?  How much can you put down towards this debt and what can you afford to pay per month in order to get rid of the debt?
(Me)  Okay.  I understand, Dante.  Sorry.  I'm driving, drinking coffee and talking to you.  A lot on my plate this morning.  So, here is the problem.  I can't afford to put any money down, nor can I afford a monthly payment.  If I could, I would have paid the son-of-a-bitch off when I got the bill.  Doesn't that make sense to you?
(Caller)  (I can tell from the tone of his sigh that he has had about enough of me.)  Jeremiah!  You're running out of options real fast and you are wearing on my patience.
(Me) Wearing on your patience?  You called me and started begging for money... Sheesh!
(Caller)  Jeremiah!  Do you still work for the concrete company in Lincoln county?
(Me)  I'm not sure I can give you that information, and please don't ask for my social security number.  This phone call sounds like a crank call.
(Caller)  I've got your social number here.  It was gathered in the information you gave back in 2014 when you went and got those x-rays, remember?
(Me)  I didn't have any x-rays on 2014, Donny.
(caller) God damn it!  You did and you accounted for it earlier in our conversation!  You went to the hospital and needed x-rays.  You never payed that portion of the bill and I need you to pay up or I will garnish your wages.  Does this sound like a crank call now?
(Me) Lord no.  It sounds like you are getting upset with me and all I want to do is make this right.  Now, what did we discuss as options?
(caller)  At this point in time, we are going to be in contact with the Lincoln County Sheriff's Office and gather all of the information we need on you.  We are going to have your wages garnished and we are going to put a lien on your vehicles.  I tried to cooperate with you Mr. Allen, but you'd have nothing of it.
(Me)  Mr. Allen?  Whose that, your boss?
(caller) No, god damn it!  Its you!  You're Jeremiah Allen!
(Me)  No I'm not.
(caller) (This guy is livid!!!!)  You are Jeremiah god damned Allen and you owe Oasis Collection Agency $692.49 and we will just have to go about it the hard way!!!
(Me)  Drummond?  My name is Brice, man.  I have no idea why you are calling me Jeremiah and making these horrible accusations and threats, but I am sorry if I've offended you.
(caller)  Wait a minute.  You answered to the name Jeremiah  5 or 6 times during our conversation.  I called you Jeremiah Allen and you answered.
(Me) (I cut him off before he could speak.)  Well, yeah.  I called you Donny, Dante and some other shit and you answered to that.  I thought we were playing a joke on each other?
(Caller)  You mother fucker.... (click.  phone goes silent)

This whole thing only took a couple of minutes.  Man was I pleased with the way it all turned out.  I knew this would set the tone for the rest of the day.  It did, beautifully.

"Hello, my name is Stanley...."

Do you ever got those phone calls from a guy in India or Pakistan who tells you there is something wrong with your computer and he is the guy that can fix it?  We get them all of the time at our ranch and the wife and I have taken it upon ourselves to make these calls as entertaining as possible, at least for us.  It's like a competition and you only win if you can get the only guy in Pakistan  to tell you to "Go fuck yourself".  It's pretty rewarding.  You should give it a shot!

Yesterday afternoon, "Stanley" called me and told me that he was from Windows and they "detected a problem with my home computer's Window operating system."  I politely said, "Stanley, I don't have a home computer but I do have a small computer in my shoe.  Could it be that system?"  He confirms this possibility by saying, 'Yes, if it has Windows installed."  I thanked "Stanley" for calling and told him "This problem sounds urgent. Let me take my shoe off and we will get to the problem at once."

I pause for a second and tell him that I had my shoe off and the computer was in front of me.  He says, "I need your to turn your computer on...."  and I stop him in his tracks.  "I'll have to go get a pair of pliers, a wooden spoon and some talcum powder."  This throws him off track.  "No, no, no.  You don't need pliers.  What do you need pliers for?"  I said, "Didn't you ask me to wash my computer?" 

I thought I lost him at this point but he said, "Wash your computer?  No, no, no.  We are going to fix your computer."  I said, "Ah ha!  So when we fix my computer will my car's air conditioning work again?''  Silence....  I said, "Stanley?  Are you there?"  Still no answer but I could hear other jack asses in the background on the phone with other jack asses, so I held out hope.

Stanley comes back with, "Have you started your computer yet?"  I said, "It won't start up.  The air conditioning is broken in my car."  Silence again.  Then in a bit of a perturbed voice he said, "What does air conditioning have to do with your computer?"  Knowing that I was close to losing this guy I said, "Well, if I am going to fix this computer, I have to do it in an air conditioned phone booth while I am washing my cat.  Do you ever wash you're cat, Stanley?" 

He's livid.  "I need you to start you're computer, right now!"  I calmly said, "Stanley, all you had to do was ask.  There's no need to be angry.  I am still trying to figure out why you asked me to bake a plum pie?"  Consequently, Stanley loses his shit at this point.

"God damn it!  I am trying to fix your computer and you talk about spoons, washing a cat and baking a pie!  Do you want your god damned computer fixed or not?"  I apologize and say, "Yes Stanley, I want my computer fixed.  Do you know Soupy Sales, and what do I need to do first?"  Unfortunately, he didn't address the "Soupy Sales" question which I thought was hysterical.  In a slightly more calm voice he says, "Is your computer turned on" to which I replied "No, its not even plugged in."  Again, calmly he says, "Plug the computer in and press the power button.  It may take a minute for the computer to start."  I say, "Okay, it's plugged in and it appears to be starting.  The little thing is going in circles on the monitor." 

I can still hear the back ground noise and it sounds like he is talking to someone else with his hand over the mouth piece he was talking into.  "Ma'am" I say and start to laugh.  No answer.  "Excuse me ma'am.  I need your full attention at this time."  He comes back and asks if the computer was running.  I told him it was almost ready and said, "So your name is Stanley?"  Before he could answer I added, "My neighbor is named Stan.  I think he is from New Mexico or Texas or some shit.  That seems like a pretty normal name for a guy from Texas, but I've got the feeling that you are not from the U.S."  This guy loses his shit this time, for real!

"God damn you!  How fucking stupid are you?  I ask you to start your computer and you cannot do that.  You talk about everything but computer.  You think I have time for this bullshit?"  He's pissed and he's not done cussing me out yet but I get him to stop for a second by saying, "Stanley, Stanley, Stanley."  He screams, "What?"  I remain silent for about 10 seconds just to add a little more drama to the over heated situation.  "Stanley" I ask in a very calm voice.  "If you can help me with my computer problem, I would like to help you complete a do it yourself home improvement project or adopt a new pet."  All he said was, "God!  Fuck!" and hung up on me.

I can't wait for my next call.  I'll be interested in hearing how dear old Stanley is doing and perhaps make a new friend.

"Urgency"

If I can, I'd like to take a minute and talk about urgency.  Urgency is another one of those words that gets misused.  The meaning of the word is somewhat convoluted these days.  For instance, the other day my son texted me and said "Urgent, get back to me when you can."  As soon as I get the text I am thinking, "what in the hell went wrong now?".  The kid has been out of the house and in a college dorm across the state and has managed to break his glasses and his arm in the first 2 days, so his text did seem somewhat "urgent".

So I text him back right when I got the message.  "What's wrong now?"  Honestly, with this kid I don't know what to expect.  I think I know him pretty well, but he isn't off to an effortless start in Laramie.  He writes back, "Can I use the debit card to order food?"  That's urgent?  The kid has the school meal plan, his momma sent him to school with half a dozen gift cards and he wants to know if you can use the debit card for food and is calling that urgent?

I hope to high hell this college education thing works out and he at least learns the meaning of urgent.  It'll probably be a bit of a rip for the amount of money we are spending but he has to come away with at least that.

Anyhow, on to something that is a little "urgent".  I pull into my coffee stop to grab a cup of mud and realize that I have to make a pit stop.  I walk into the bathroom and step up to the urinal to take care of business and all of a sudden, the bathroom door nearly explodes behind me!

In shuffles this guy, half stooped over, holding his guts and he says, "God, please don't let me shit my pants now."  That's urgent!  Urgency made this guy pray out loud about not shitting his pants and he did that in the face of a complete stranger!  Well, me being me, I laughed my ass off.  However, the context of what he said got me thinking.  Perhaps over thinking....

"God" in the expression used means he was urgently requesting that the holiest of holy start paying attention right this second.  "....please don't let me shit my pants now" means he somehow determined that there is a better time to shit his pants!  (And a bit selfish if you ask me.)

I'm not so sure I understand that.  The urgency I understand, but the message could be a little confusing if God were working on something like world hunger.  Old Bob shitting his pants after a bad breakfast burrito is pretty inconsequential.

And really, if you just have to shit your pants, why not do it in a place where there is a modicum of anonymity, a place to clean up plus a handy receptacle for disposing of ones soiled knickers?

If you ask me, Old Bob got the whole thing wrong.  Everything sounded synched, linked and ready to stink.  Shit your britches, Bob.  maybe you find it a bit nostalgic.  Who knows, but you probably ought to leave God out of your shitty pants.

Not your average Dr. Seuss

"Good morning" I said, and they replied "How are you?"
I said "My car isn't running right and that has me blue."

They then said, "I'm sorry about that.  There's no need for panic."
I said, "Thank goodness for that because I need a mechanic."

They promised they had all the tools, they had all the skills
and were more than happy to relieve me of my ills.

I told them "That makes me happy" and I urged them to take a look.
But I had no idea that I was dealing with a crook!

They called to inform me that things looked quite bad.
They quoted me a price and made me feel sad.

They said "the price of the parts, seems to be the culprit''
as he said with a grin from his all mighty pulpit.

I said, "Dear sir, that price seems quite high.''
But I was talking on the phone so I couldn't look him in the eye.

He told me with assuredness that his quote was correct.
I told him that I was going to shop around, he said "why not? what the heck".

So I did shop around for a different mechanic to use
and I found one whose price quote made me bemused!

I told this new guy about where I almost went
then I asked him how he could be cheaper by 66%?

"Don't go to him.  That guy is a quack!"
I said "Please fix my car and you know I'll be back".

I called the other guy and said "You're quote is real funny. 
I just got another quote and it will save me some money."

On the other end of the line there was immediate silence.
It was as if he knew me and expected some violence.

I said, "You tried to take advantage of me and I think you're a jerk.
I found a new mechanic and I'll give him all my work."

The dumb S.O.B said, "That's all right.  I don't care"
to which I replied, "Im coming for my keys and you ought not be there."

I said, "I hope a pissed off 3rd grader stabs you in the neck with a lead pencil
and leaves you lying on the ground like a chalk outline dead body stencil."

Before he hung up I said "I bid you adieu"
I followed that up with "Ill never need anything from the likes of you."

Now I am happy, so elated with my new found friend.
So I said "screw you mother fucker" and this is the end......

What's the matter with this country?

I doubt that I have the proper certification to answer this query, but I do have rights that allow me to say what I want.  With those rights come responsibility and accountability.  There are a couple of down sides to being able to say what you want to when you want to.  One is, the shit you say ought to be free of libel and slander otherwise someone else will use a right and sue the shit out of you.  The other is, you might be issued as ass whoopin.  With that said, please don't sue me and I ain't afraid of your ass whoopin.

Moving forward, I guess the answer to the question depends on whom the question is asked.  For me, its pretty simple.  In my life time, I don't know if the country has ever been more divided than it is today.  We've gone on to label everything and every one.  The issues are either liberal or conservative and you are either a "libtard" or a "tea-bagger".  And, as long as we are all preoccupied with bullshit, we don't have the time to address the other issues.  The following are my opinions on what is wrong with this county.

The election process is a joke.  It's antiquated and its full of corruption just like everything else having anything else to do with politics.  There is too much money involved and politicians are easily bought and sold in seedy back room deals.  Take a good look at how many millionaires there are in politics right now.  Get a gander at their net worth if they've been around for a while and tell me these people aren't selling out. 

So there's that level of dishonesty and then there's this one.  Lying.  Lying is part of every day politics.  Harry Reid has come out and said that he lies all of the time and that fucking guy has been re-elected dozens of times!  Now that we've entered another election cycle we have to be prepared for more lies, but were not.  We don't do anything with them  We certainly don't hold liars accountable.  Nope.  We elect them.

The Democrats are going to lie about the Republicans.  The Republicans are going to lie about the Democrats and in order to get the nomination of your respective party, you've got to make shit up about the people vying for the same position you are.  What makes matters worse is, once you get your parties nomination, you have to choose a running mate. Quite often it is out of the group of no good for nothing sons-a-bitches you bellyached about for the 16 months leading up to the election!

Here's the breakdown of this entire situation:
1.  A known liar gets nominated from his respective party.
2.  This liar picks another liar out of a pool of liars as a running mate.
3.  The election process is over when the electoral college says it is and the popular means jack shit.
4.  The President takes office and you either like him or hate him but it has nothing to do with what
     fucking matters.  It has everything to do with is party affiliation.
5.  Presidential lies (or should we call them "short comings") end up being exposed.
6.  If you're from that particular party, you kind of ignore them as if nothing happened.
7.  If your from the opposing party you are up in arms over the lies and misrepresentation!  You're
     livid!  You'd rather have your lying shit bag of a human in office!
8.  If the President is from your party, you blame all of the nation's problems on the last President
     who by the way was also a liar.



As Americans, we pretend to be fed up with the process but we continue to do the same old shit time and time again.  We keep electing liars and expect the truth.  We elect dishonorable people and expect honor or integrity.  It's laughable.  How can you be fed up with a process that you continue to put up with?

Seriously.  Haven't you gotten rid of "friends" who consistently lie to you?  I have.  I've gotten rid of employees who've 'misrepresented' the truth so why would I not hold people who are supposed to represent me to those very same standards?  As a nation, we don't.  We don't care enough about being told the truth by the people who represent us, I guess.

I'm trying to work this out in my head.  Why would I be part of the problem by contributing to the problem and then complain about the problem?  It seems counter productive to me.  (Its like having your kitchen on fire and you are throwing bacon grease on it expecting it to go out.)

I don't think I can participate in the shit show any longer.  It's stop voting or vote like the sheep.

"...and I approve this message."

Well folks.  Here we are again.  What an exciting time to be an American, eh?  We've just begun another election cycle.  Nor, for more than a year, we have the opportunity to listen to a bevy of bloviating windbags lie their asses off in an attempt to get elected to the highest office in the land.  If you don't see it that way, you've not been paying attention for the last couple of decades.

I guess that is the beauty of it all.  You don't have to pay attention in order to vote!  Screw that!  You've got a ton of friends who are in the know!  They listen to MSNBC and Fox and they are quick to spread the bullshit nice and thick for you.  This removes any personal responsibility other than getting your fat ass down to the polls.  Now, all you have to do is vote for the person you hate the least.  That's right.  You're going to take the time to go vote for someone you don't like in an attempt to keep someone else you don't like out of office. I can't tell you how many times I've heard an ignorant, I mean educated voter say, "I'm not voting for this guy.  I'm voting against the other guy."  Does nobody else see the dysfunctionality with this brand of "logic"?

There are a lot of ways to look at politics and politicians.  There are a couple of analogies I like to use.  The first analogy involves chicken shit.  Two piles of chicken shit to be precise with a little bit of a chicken shit dribble in the middle.  Each pile of course represents one of the major political parties and the chicken shit dribble in the middle is 3rd party candidates.

When you enter an election cycle, you shove your pile of chicken shit into the center of a paper plate, right next to the other pile of chicken shit.  One on the left and one on the right.  As the shit settles and dries out a little bit, a white speck begins to develop atop the chicken shit piles.  That is the candidate that the rest of the pile sends forward to represent "the people".

 Are you feeling a little better about the whole idea now?  If not, maybe this will help.  Chicken shit if anything is a mild annoyance.  Its one of those things you've heard described as "you'll know it when you see it".  Most people don't have to deal with chicken shit, but those that do or those that have studied it see it for what it is. 

Chicken shit is a commodity.  It can be bought and sold, just like a politician.  Chicken shit is a commodity when its packaged properly, its sold as fertilizer.  You can go out and buy tons of chicken shit, throw it into your fields and plow it under.  Now who wouldn't want to do that with about 500 of your favorite politicians or chicken shits, eh?  Anyways, these chicken shit specks atop each respective chicken shit pile tells you all kinds of wonderful shit they are going to do and then tell you how useless and evil the other pile of chicken shit is.  Even though they are both chicken shit, either pile thinks its better than  the other pile and they will say and do things in order to prove it.  We as the consumer lap the chicken shit up! 

We choose a pile of chicken shit and we vote for it because we've decided we don't like the other chicken shit.  Maybe it won't go as well into our gardens. I don't know.  Anyhow, as time passes, we realize that the chicken shit said a lot of things that just aren't true.  The chicken shit said it was going to do a lot of things but it doesn't happen.  The chicken shit is a liar! Most of us don't care, though. We keep voting for our favorite brand of chicken shit.

We are loyal to our brands of chicken shit, and we have to be.  The system is set up that way!  If you like anything the other chicken shit says or does, you're a traitor and no longer ride for the brand.  The system can't have that.  We have to hate the other brand of chicken shit.  it doesn't do anything right and our friends tell us that all of the time.  Facebook is full of information relevant to this issue. 

I didn't forget the chicken shit dribble in the middle.  This chicken shit is really of no consequence.  At first, the chicken shit dribble causes a disturbance and draws a little attention to itself.  We being the consumers start to take a look at this alternative brand of chicken shit.  We soon find out that it is a little bit of chicken shit pile "A" and a little bit of chicken shit pile "B"!  This is the "Donny and Marie" of chicken shits.  Its a little bit country and a little bit of rock and roll.  This is the escape defectors from either chicken shit brand above has been waiting for!  It ends up being kind of sad however.

As time goes by, the chicken shit dribble loses some of its flavor, so to speak.  Some of the people who were holding on tight have now decided that the chicken shit dribble has no chance of being elected, so they go back the brand of shit they are most familiar with.  Others, the "die hards" will hold on for all they're worth. They'll vote for the alternative shit dribble in defiance, just as long as they don't give a vote to either of the other chicken shits.  And... they're proud of this.  They are proud that they voted for chicken shit, just like everyone else.

(CUE THE NATIONAL ANTHEM)



Ladies and Gentlemen,

This great country of ours was forged and shaped by some very great people.  These people were strong men and women who wanted freedom and were willing to fight for it.  These people were often armed with nothing but a good work ethic, honor and integrity and that all went to hell when we started ripping off the Native Americans.

As Americans, we tried to do right by other people but that really just meant fucking them over a little more.  But we were a proud people and we asked others to join so we could put the screws to them, just the same.  We could have left everyone alone and let them live the lives they wanted to live as they saw fit, but we had to label them as chicken shit.  (Tee hee hee, that rhymed.)

I'd like you to think of America as a giant dinner party we've all been invited to.  We've been promised a truly extravagant dinner and that no expense was too great for us.  As you are seated, it becomes abundantly clear that this is not a free extravagant dinner.  It is a shitty luncheon that you'd never come to if you knew that they only thing on the menu was chicken shit cooked 2 different ways. 

As a consolation they tell you that your chicken shit will be served on either a red or blue keepsake plate.  On one of the plates, the chicken shit is whipped into what appears to be a nice dessert by a chef who has been known to lie a lot.  You're told to put that fact aside and enjoy the free dessert and everybody gets some.  The other plate is prepared by a chef who comes off as about as stable as the San Andreas fault.  Basically nothing this guy says is true, but people seem to like this plate because the guy will say whatever he wants, whenever he wants, regardless of any shred of truth.

Americans!  I urge you to push away from this table.  You deserve more than chicken shit, but you keep ordering it.  I want you to see the errs of your ways and I want you to quit ordering the chicken shit!  I want you to hold out for a fucking steak.  Make them get beef on the fucking menu!

My name is Brice Dudley and I approve this message.

Help wanted:

On the way home yesterday, I saw something that I believe I need a little help with.  That being the case, I am reaching out to you.  I spent all night thinking about this, now its early in the morning and I need to get it out of my head.

I saw a bumper sticker yesterday that read, "Harley Davidson.  If you have to ask, you wouldn't understand."  Is the author of this statement trying to redo the way we do everything?  All of my life, when I didn't understand something, I asked questions.  Now, some pretentious, yuppie, weekend warrior asshole who trailers his bike everywhere he goes is going to try to change that, in the name of Harley Davidson, of course.

This is the type of asshole that I wish would invest in a "do it yourself" home explosives kit and just remove himself from the gene pool.  We're going to change the way we've been doing things for at least the last several hundred years because this functional illiterate doesn't have the vocabulary or the ability to explain why he has a Harley?



(By the way, this is also the type of asshole that demands that you "look out for bikers" and he rides like this....)

When I was growing up, I knew some bikers.  Real fucking bikers!  These guys main mode of transportation was their bike and they rode Harley's because they were reliable.  If not reliable, predictable and if and when something went wrong, they could fix it. 

I'm not talking about those guys.  They are authentic.  I'm talking about the kind of asshole that drags a $5000 dollar trailer that he bought used for $20,000, carrying a Harley that he bought brand new for $19,000 and put another $8000 dollars worth of shit on it that nobody else in the free market world would ever get caught putting on a motorcycle and dragging the whole dog and pony show behind an RV that costs in the neighborhood of $750,000.  That's the type of asshole I'm talking about.  Fix his bike?  This asshole can't fix a cheese omelette let alone a god damned motorcycle!  This guy, he wants to be different, just like 4 million other yuppies who are just like him, dress like him and don't shave for 3 days before dragging his shit show circus down the road to the next rally. 

To that guy with that bumper sticker, I hope you catch fire, asshole.  I'd rather masturbate with a barbed wire oven mitt than even know your name.  Take that fucking bumper sticker off your truck until you can explain why you have a Harley.  You don't deserve one.  You know, I didn't think you assholes could stick out any worse in a crowd, then I catch some of you wearing designer jeans with your brand new sleeveless denim Harley shirt.  Jesus Christ!  Stop already!  You don't look more like a biker.  You look more like a douche bag with some sparkly shit on it.  Just go away.  Start your own type of biker rally at a fucking day spa or something.  You and your rough and tumble crowd can get together and have a mani-pedi and talk about your investments.

For some reason, that rant reminded me of the "Baby on board" sign that soccer moms used to put in the back window of their mini-van.  I always wanted to say, "Baby on board?  Is that todays lunch special?"  I never got around to it.  Maybe while I am out shopping for that barbed wire oven mitt I'll get the chance.