Monday, July 29, 2013

Adam's Law of Go Fuck Yourself

I was at work talking to a customer who said looked at the price tag of a TV and said “looks like Moore’s Law applies to TVs as well as computers.” I looked at him a bit puzzled and he said “I guess I didn’t expect you to know what Moore’s law was, but it means that computer power will grow exponentially every 18 months. Turns out that applies to TV sizes. They’re growing at an exponential rate. And the prices are dropping at the same rate.”

Why are you being a jerk about this? Maybe I have heard of Moore’s Law (probably not). Maybe I looked at you that way because I wasn’t paying any attention to anything you were saying (definitely so). He could have just said “TV prices sure have dropped.” And I would have responded with whatever autopilot response I usually use when people say that. But instead he had to try to sound like a smug jerk. Well I don’t like smug jerks so now you’re going to get your math checked!

Porn was not meant to viewed like this

Sir, do you really not see how very wrong that is? You're wrong in two ways. Moore said computing power would double every two years. So let’s go ahead and apply this to TV size. By now we should have TVs that are about 4,398,046,511,104” large. Or about 366 billion miles (diagonal). That’s assuming that the first TV in 1929 was only one inch big. 

I remember when I could buy 1,172,607,880 TVs for a nickel!

And now to pricing. The first TV cost around $12,000 dollars (adjusted for inflation). By today we should all be able to get a several hundred billion inch screen TV for right around $.00000000004264. 

And one more graph for you asshole. It shows that how smart you were trying to appear is directly proportionate to how much of a douche you were being. 

That's what you get for asking what TV will make PBS look the best. Nothing will ever make that look good. Nothing.

That'll teach him for correctly assuming my lack of knowledge on a given subject!

Wednesday, July 24, 2013

I Get Hard on Weiner

Listen, I'm a liberal. If you don't believe me I can send you pictures of what the bumper of my car looked like when I was twenty. As a liberal I generally vote for whoever the Democrat is. I usually don't think they're great, but by and large I like them better. Unless Michael Bloomberg finds someway to get a sex change and pass a law saying you can serve three terms as each sex then there is going to be a new mayor pretty soon. I'd be lying if I said I was following this race closely at all, but it's hard to avoid the parts of the race involving Anthony Weiner. And I've decided that he's a guy I will not be voting for.

People seem to get weird about sex scandals. I don't know what it is, but a lot of people just refuse to admit that someone who's a member of their preferred party is a piece of shit. So I, a guy with roughly 65% of a political science degree, will weigh in on these arguments.

But Kennedy had affairs. Are you saying Kennedy was a bad guy?:

Kennedy fucked Marilyn Monroe. That's obviously a freebie. Who in their right mind wouldn't fuck Marilyn Monroe. I think that would make Michelle Bachman close her gay conversion camp if she heard that there might be a way to bring her back to life for one magical night.

Come on, Kennedy had sex with a bunch of ladies:

All the other ladies he had sex with were to practice just in case he got a chance to bed Marilyn Monroe. Pass granted!

So he screwed up, everyone deserves a second chance right?:

No, of course they don't. That's the silliest argument I've ever heard. Plus if you think this guy was an asshole just the one time well that's pretty goddamned naive.

But who are you to demand perfection?

Is this where we are? Are we at a place where we're either perfect or we're waving our dick at random girls? Is it too much to ask to be able to Google the mayor without double checking to make sure safe search is on? Listen, I'm no prude. I have friends who take all manner of dick pics and have felt it necessary to show them to me. I of course laugh every time. But there is no way in hell that I'll ever vote for any of those pieces of shit.

But it's just sex:

I don't think it is. It's not a matter of sex it's a matter of dicks. Most dicks look alike. There are size and color variances of course, but by and large a dick is a dick. If you’re the kind of person who thinks the world needs to see your dick then you probably are the kind of guy who thinks their dick don’t smell like dick.

Aren't you reading too much into this?:

Of course. I'm a voter who didn't finish college. We're as a rule a petty, uneducated, and irrational group. I read a poll that said 6% of people would refuse to vote for someone who's black. I'm just refusing to vote for the guy because I know what his dick looks like. Rational or not I've been nothing but consistent on this matter.

So what, he likes to show off his dick. Who cares?:

People who wave their dick around are generally bullies. I don’t like bullies. Bullies took my replica Star Trek comm badge from me when I was fourteen. Bullies stuffed me in my locker (as fat as I was I was surprised more than anything that I fit). Bullies kicked me in the back for having a “faggy” backpack. I generally don’t like them. And I don't like to vote for them. You hear that 80% of Clifford Smart Middle School years 1994-1996!

Plus he's anti bike lanes. So double fuck that guy.

Friday, July 12, 2013


I saw a guy spit in a lady’s face. It wasn’t an accident. He paused, he aimed, he fired, and he got her right in the kisser. It was gross. The spitter was on a bike. There was a lady jogging, he slowed down, and he let fly. When you see that happen you’re brought back to all the times you’ve spit at people and it makes you feel both nostalgic and a little guilty. Because that’s not a cool thing to do. Listen, spitting is gross. You should never do anything to anyone against their will that is found routinely in porn. That includes toe licking, breast slapping, having sex with, and of course spitting. There are whole wings of prisons built for people who try porn stuff in real life. 

I’ve spit a few times in my life. The one time it really landed I also was on a bike. I was riding on 58th St. and a car came up behind and instead of using the fact there was not a lot of other traffic and just going around me they proceeded to lay on their horn to voice their displeasure about me being on a bike. The driver kept on the horn for about 200 yards. Despite there being room on either side they decided to gun their engine and pass me within about an inch and a half of my handlebars. We both came up to a red light and when it turned green they decided to get behind me and do it again. I loaded one in the chamber and as they passed I got the passenger side window pretty good. Next red light they decided they wanted to play the same game again, so I decided to give them more of the same. This time for some reason the lady in the passenger seat, after seeing what I had already done, decided to roll down her window to yell something at me. I got her. I got her good. I felt a little guilty, but mostly I was happy that the lady got what I thought she deserved. Even though I’m of course the protagonist of this story I’m not sure I was in the right anymore. 

The guy who spit in the lady’s face also thought he was in the right. He spit on her because he thought he was imparting some kind of wet street justice. What she had done was jog on the side of The Hudson River Greenway reserved for cyclists. That would be a pretty minor infraction for most. If you’ve ever ridden the greenway it’s supposed to accommodate three lanes of people. A two way cyclist portion and a small lane for joggers and walkers. The problem is there really isn’t enough room for everyone. So from time to time you have to slow down to make room for someone else. Preferably without spraying that person with saliva. This guy didn’t see it that way. To him it wasn’t a minor inconvenience it was an infraction worthy of spitting on a complete stranger. 

I’ve only lived in New York a few years. Generally I love it, but it is the kind of place that kinda makes you want to spit in people’s faces from time to time. I, like most people, have rules in my head for what makes a civilized society. When people break those rules it can really piss me off. The top of my list are drivers who threaten to kill me and grown men who wear berets. If it were up to me those would both be enough to get a person publicly flogged without trial. For the driver I spit on being a guy on a bike was what pissed him off. For the guy on the bike path the fact that a lady was jogging the wrong way on a crowded shared path was enough to set him off. And we were all in the wrong.

These little social contracts we all carry in our heads are very important to us. We assume because we act a certain way everyone should act the same way. And it can be frustrating when someone breaks your rules. But these are your rules. There are a shitload of people living here, and that equals a shitload of separate social contracts. All with their own unique set of rules for avoiding be spit in the face. Chances are you’re also breaking someone’s at any given time. And if you don’t accept that fact we’re all going to end up with really wet faces. 

Friday, July 5, 2013

Count Me Out

As I’ve mentioned (multiple times) I work retail. And as a lucky retail warrior I got to spend a couple Sundays ago locked in a store in the middle of the night counting things. I was tasked with being one of the lucky folks who got to take part in my store’s annual inventory. For however shitty retail can be all the other days of the year, there’s something special about being locked in a store counting.

We have to show up as the store is closing. We have to wear all black. Like ninjas. We’re not allowed to speak to each other. We’re not allowed to wear headphones. We count. For a very long time. I don’t really know about the all black thing. It might be to give us a gang mentality. The first thing they do in the army is try to take away your feeling of individuality. Nothing makes you feel like less of an individual than being in a room with 80 other people dressed the exact same way as you. Unless of course you’re at a punk rock show then it makes you a rebel.  They must think that if we all show up dressed alike then we we’ll act like a team. A tough ass bunch of black clad warriors fighting the forces of the uncounted. I’ve also been told it’s so they can watch us closer on cameras. The point being that whatever we’re trying to steal will look stark against the black backdrop of our ninja outfits and they’ll be able to spot us easier. But that seems stupid because we sell shit in black boxes. We could all just double up on the stuff in black boxes. They should have us wear denim. I don’t think we sell anything that’s encased in denim. Or they could just let us wear normal clothes. But that would imply that we’re not treating counting boxes of iPhone cases with the gravity it deserves. 

It’s hard to convey just how patronizing the whole experience is. To dress it up (in all black of course) they never call it what it is. They’ll either say “annual inventory” or us a number of other little acronyms to make it sound like it’s a very important mission. But really what it is is counting. I point at something and tally up all the somethings. I then write how many somethings there are and give the list of the amount of somethings to someone else. They then take all the somethings from all the people and come up with a larger number. I remember when I was a kid I asked my mom if it was possible to count to a million (I was a dumb kid). My mom said it would be, but now I know it’s impossible. It turns out at about 3,700 HDMI cables you lose to the will the live. I imagine your brain would leak out of your ears into a pool at your feet before you even sniff 100K.

Not everyone had to spend the night counting. I very much wanted to be one of those lucky people who didn’t have to do this. I figured I would’ve been a shoe in to get out. For starters, I did it last time. I run a comedy show every Sunday nights (please come to it) so I did my best to weasel out of it. But all my weaseling was to no avail. I did the inventory thing last year and according to my boss I’m pretty damn good at counting. I think that was supposed to make me feel good. I did not. If you had done inventory before they keep track on how well we all counted. Don’t want to get a big head about it, but this guy is pretty good at it.  I didn’t even know that was something that people were good or bad at. Some people are probably quicker than others, but for the most part I’d assume that counting is something that we’re all doing pretty goddamned well. We weren’t trying any kind of abstract or experimental counting. We weren’t actually trying to figure out the amount of angels who can dance on the head of a pin. Just good old fashioned sequential numbers. So it wasn’t a matter of pride, because that’s where I work. At a place where to qualify you don’t have to be great at counting. Me and the guy who sometimes forgets about 3 are both equally qualified to do the same job 364 days a year. Just not when we need to count.