Nov 08

Oh Nothing, Just A Post For Friday

MOBROS

Like our banner this year? Mrs. B made it up for us. She’s peachy keen. She does a lot behind the scenes for our Movember thing, because she knows how important it is to me. We all do, really. Not that it isn’t fun, but it’s still something that takes a toll on me at least.

That’s why it bothers me when I find out that people are using the blog posts to further their own Movember campaigns. Don’t get me wrong, I know the money all ends up in the same place and it’s nice that people share the posts around, but I can see when it gets shared, and by who in a lot of cases. Sadly there are people who share it and ask their Facebook and Twitter friends to read it and then donate to their/their husband’s Mo.

I know it probably seems petty, and I was just going to leave it alone, but it really does bother me. I guess it’s because I work really hard to try and organise this, and those who know me know that I’m not an organised person, so it really is a lot of work for me and the rest of the team. There’s also the monetary investment too. Sure it’s only a few hundred dollars, and I could have just donated it and that would be that, but I feel that if we try to do something fun and fresh, we might get through to a different bunch of people than the usual couple times a week post on Facebook that people just ignore anyway. I hope that we can work it into a yearly thing, something fun that people could look forward to every year. A Mo party with some of our amazing local talent and maybe a bit of food or something. Maybe we could get some local businesses on board and actually make a difference.

I know that I am going to need to start planning before October, do the shavedown photoshoot earlier, muster up the courage to ask local merchants to help out, and have the party on a weekend night that isn’t Halloween.

You live and you learn. Hopefully.

About the sharing of the content thing; I really do appreciate it when it’s shared for the right reasons. More than you will ever know, but please give credit where credit is due. People work hard to create things every day, and most of the time they will give it away for free, but they would like a little acknowledgment for their work. That goes for sharing news stories and tweets too.

It only takes a second to add -Sarah Silverman, or whoever wrote the joke you are using, to your status, tweet, or post. Sure they are never going to see it, but shouldn’t they get the recognition for their creativity? I think they should, plus, it isn’t right to pass something off as your own, even if it only makes your two hundred friends think that you wrote something you didn’t.

I’m a big offender, or at least I used to be. I would Google search for photos and copy them onto this very blog. Then I was thinking about how that was no different than other people’s written content. Sure, it’s mostly memes and stock photos that are free to use, but I’m sure some of it is something that someone worked hard at to capture. You know, that one graphic of a male reproductive system that I needed so badly, or maybe the picture of the dog bite suit. Either way, I’m putting links in to where the image came from now, if it’s at all traceable, and I feel better about myself. Usually.

This dude is serious about moustachery.

This dude is serious about moustachery.

So there you go. My pissypants whine about people stealing my thunder, but hey, I don’t make any money off of this, so thunder is all I got. Now go and donate to http://moteam.co/change-the-topic. There are a few slackers that haven’t broke their doughnut yet, maybe you could help them feel better about themselves. They need to feel loved too. 🙁

Gotta get up, listen to me, clappa your hands, stompa your feet,

Birdman

Oct 21

Dog Fuckers

Birdman

 dog fuck-er (dôg  fũk’ǝr)

n. Vulgar Slang

1. A lazy bastard that would rather spend their time figuring out ways to avoid work than actually working.
2. Someone who fucks dogs.
I hope you are talking about the first one, because I'm not afraid to punch a motherfucker in the nuts.

I hope you’re talking about the first definition, because I’m not afraid to punch a motherfucker in the nuts.

I’m going to rant a bit here, so if you don’t like a lot of swearing and talking mean about assholes that probably don’t deserve it, then you should walk away now, because this might get ugly.

I should also mention that if you are here from a Google search for anything to do with fucking dogs, you are out of luck. I do however have an archived article that you twisted fucks may be interested in. Click here to have your mind blown.

Anyhow, back to business. We are on a shale haul in what I guess are the foothills of the Northern Rockies, and there are a bunch of dump trucks in the rotation. We get loaded by a dude in an excavator and dump where we are building the road into the gas lease. It’s about a 20-30 kilometre round trip, depending on where we dump. The trip has four relatively steep grades while loaded, so it takes about an hour to do on average.

The problem is that a few of us are above average, while a few are far below. There are several factors involved, but the main reasons are truck power and dog fucking.

Some guys/girls have shitty trucks. It’s a fact of life out here, and I don’t have a huge problem with that, except for when it interferes with my day. I mean, the shitty trucks are making the same money as their counterparts that are outperforming them on a daily basis, so they really don’t have an excuse for not having decent equipment, but that’s beside the point. The fact is that I understand the differences in equipment, and I sympathize somewhat. I don’t get really mad at these “unintentional dog fuckers”, because I know that it’s just the circumstances of this point in time.

My boss used to drive the truck I’m in, so it has probably more power than most tandem dump trucks, and because the box is smaller, I don’t generally pull as much weight as a tri-drive. This gives me the luxury of pulling hills much faster than some of the other trucks. Sometimes three times the speed.

That means that I usually catch up to others pretty quickly, and then ride their ass to wherever we are going. I do this in hopes of shaming them into telling me that I can go by them. Generally I am yelling at them to just “move the fuck over”, but occasionally I mutter something like “I will punch your fucking head off, you cunty fuck.”

Yes, that’s right. I get violent when I’m safely behind the wheel of a giant truck. Whether it’s the person’s fault or not.

Let’s not be mistaken though. I’m not brave. I yell these things with all of the windows up and I double check the mic on the radio to make sure the transmit button isn’t depressed. That’s because I really don’t want them to hear me and come back to punch my cunty head off. I just like to vent, and as you may have noticed, I am a bit warped.

All of this annoyance brings me to the real pisser offers here. They are the “deliberate dog fuckers”.

These are the ones that, after the three o’clock coffee break, slow down to a crawl for the last two hours of the day. This is so that they might have to do one less load, thus “putting one over on the man”.

I’ve actually seen some guys slow down to 20 km/hr on the road, just so they can’t get back to the hoe on time for a last load, or some of them might just stop and repair an imaginary piece of broken duct tape or some other minor thing that just had to get fixed right then.

Sure, we were all teenagers once, and we would try to figure out short cuts for every task, but as you grow up, you realize that the work still has to get done, and if someone is paying you to do a job, then you should just do it, and try to do it to the best of your ability. The other option is to quit and find something you are better suited for.

“But Birdman, I’m getting paid $5 less an hour than all of you guys and I have to run a decrepit, old truck. They get what they pay for.”

Bullshit! The customer is paying your boss the same rates as the people with the good machinery. They deserve the best job that you can do. If you don’t think you are being treated fairly, then move on. Get a job with one of the better companies if you can, but I suspect the reason you are stalled at that wage is because of your attitude. Perhaps if you tried working a bit harder, you would find more opportunities for advancement. Other truck owners know if you’re a dog fucker right away, and will possibly hire you out of desperation, but the minute a quality employee comes along, who is the first to get skidded? That’s right. It’s you.

At the end of the day, I suppose it doesn’t matter. They need a ton of workers, and they will take whatever they can get, but when it’s not so busy anymore and they can pick and choose who works for them, who are they going to call?

Who am I kidding? They will probably call you, because nobody gives a fuck out here. Carry on, dog fuckers.

Today I don’t feel like doing anything. I just wanna lay in my bed,

Birdman

Sep 16

So We Did A Bit Of Timekeeping

birdmandesk

My good buddy Gadget asked me to come and hang with him while he fulfilled his fatherly duty of volunteering at The Mullet’s hockey tournament this weekend. We were going to be timekeeping a couple of games so that they wouldn’t have to pay people to do it.

I guess it’s to help keep costs down, because HOCKEY IS A FUCKING EXPENSIVE SPORT TO PUT YOUR KIDS IN.

Did I mention that the tournament started on Friday.

Yes, Friday. The last day in the school week.

‘That’s okay, Birdman. It’s good to get an early jump on the weekend, so it’s no big deal to start a tournament on the Friday night.’

No it’s not okay. This tournament started on Friday morning. This means that the kids have to leave school and at least one parent has to book out of work that day. Maybe your kid is homeschooled and you are an Amway distributor*, so it’s no big deal for you to whip the little bastard over to the rink for his 10:00 AM game, but most of the parents I know had to leave work for several hours or the whole day because of this.

* – Can you grab me a box of that awesome laundry detergent that you brainwashed fuckers sell? It’s the shit.

Anyhow, I go to the game on Friday night to give moral support to my buddy, when I realised that it was going to take two of us to do this job. Mainly because I had never seen one of these boxes before, and Gadget had just been shown it a bit earlier in the day.

I got the hint that he may have really needed a bit of help when he said “So, you wanna be the stop/go guy?”

“Nah, I’ll just watch. I don’t know anything about this.”

“So you are going to be the stop/go guy?” He had a hopeful look on his face.

“What do I have to do?”

“You hit stop/go when you hear the whistle and then again when the ref drops the puck.”

“That seems easy. Okay, I’ll do it.”

“It’s not easy. If you aren’t paying attention, those hockey mom’s will tear you a new asshole for fucking up their kid’s game.”

I didn’t care, so I just shrugged and said “So? It’s not like they’re going pro or anything. “.

He gave me the “You will die, this day.” look and finished filling out his sheet and screwing up the period times on the scoreboard as we prepared for our maiden voyage.

Oh yeah, the scoreboard.

It’s rumoured to have cost $60000 and it looks like this.

60k? I Tim Hortons paid for it.

60k? I hope Tim Hortons paid for it.

Now the thing that gets me is that this amazing facility was built in 2011 and this is the technology that was chosen to run this wonderful scoreboard.

Really? They couldn't have come up with something a little more user friendly for the volunteer parents to handle?

Really? They couldn’t have come up with something a little more user friendly for the volunteer parents to handle?

Now Gadget is a fart smellersmart feller, so I know he can figure anything out if he’s given the proper amount of time, but when you have whistles blowing for penalties, refs yelling numbers and chopping away at their legs, and doors to open, it’s hard to read the fucking codes that they give you for each action.

It was something like:

Visitor penalty – Press and hold 911, rotate your pelvis 30° to the right, cup your scrotum and then press the symbol for magnesium.

Home goal – Put your left foot in, take your left foot out, put your left foot in, shake it all about, gently slide your thumb across the 1,2,and 3 buttons while you hold the time button down with your opposite ring finger.

These may or may not be true, but it was fun making up new dance moves while learning my new skill.

This brings me to the hockey moms and occasional dad.

We were lucky to do two games that had no players that we knew. I say “lucky” because that way I don’t have to out any of my friends as obnoxious, loud, and assholish parents that can’t just let the coach and their kid do the job that was appointed to them.

Most of the hollering was unintelligible from where we were, so I can just imagine what the kids on the ice could make out. The word I heard the most was “SHOOT!”, and I mentioned to Gadget that I wished the kids would shoot as soon as someone yelled it to them.

I mean the moment they yelled, and in whatever direction is easiest from where their stick is.

I should have went to school for graphic design.

I should have went to school for graphic design. Right?

How about you let the kid play the game. If he’s that fucking simple that he doesn’t know when he should shoot the goddamn puck, then you shouldn’t have bribed his coach into putting him in rep hockey. Instead, you should have saved your money for some Baileys to juice up your coffee and spent your time catching up with some fellow whores, while you watch your fatherless kids* play outside on a pond or someone’s backyard rink.

* – Hee hee. Sometimes I like to be an asshole. I know that you and your friends aren’t whores, and I happen to know that your kid has a dad, but you have to admit that this wound you up for a second. Didn’t it?

A bunch of friends with a couple of mittens for a net, a few old wooden sticks, and whatever ill-fitting pads they can find, will trump any fancy tournament that I can imagine. It’s when the kids have no pressure except to come in for a hot chocolate before they get frostbite, that makes for one of the greatest games that I’ve had the pleasure to watch.

Sometimes at night I can hear the ice crack, it sounds like thunder and it rips through my back,

Birdman

Aug 16

What The Fuck Is Wrong With People?

mindofbirdman

Check out this very short news story and get back to me.

You back? Okay, now tell me exactly what our world is coming to. I’m quite curious.

THEY HAD THEIR MONEY STOLEN AFTER THEY HAD BEEN HIT BY A CAR!

From the CBC.ca version of the story. Try clicking it. I’m trying something new.

Really? The one guy gets caught and charged with theft. Yep, just a theft charge. I guess they don’t have a charge for being a deplorable human being. They should.

I suppose that if they did, three quarters of our government would be in various stages of our penal system. Crooked fucks.

Could you imagine seeing someone hurt and bloody in the street, but the only thing you think about is stealing the money that they’ve dropped? I sure hope you can’t, because that’s disgusting.

As I was sitting here thinking that these people need to be hit in the face with a tack hammer, I started to question what is wrong with our society when these things happen within a year, let alone a week of each other. Then I wonder how bad these people’s lives must be to get to the point that a bit of money is worth more than a person’s well being.

Is it our fault that people are stooping this low?

Are we teaching this sort of indifference to our children? We might be. We might be doing it and we don’t even realise it.

“Don’t look at that man. He’s dirty.”

He’s not as dirty as Margot Kidder circa 1996, but pretty close.

“Stay out of that fight, it’s none of your business.”

Even bear’s will go for a nut punch when they have a chance.

A month ago I had taken the girls to Vanilla Thunder’s house, because I needed to talk to him for a bit. They opted to stay in the van and play on their ipods. Fair enough; there were only gross boys in the house.

After we were gone, there was a girl walking down the street. The girls commented that she was the girl that went by them crying earlier.

“Why was she crying?” I asked.

“I don’t know.” Was the reply from the back seat.

“Didn’t you ask if she was okay?”

“No. We don’t even know her.”

I might have mumbled something like “Well, you should still help people.”, and left it at that, but it was only because I didn’t know what I was supposed to tell them.

That they should start talking to strangers when the person seems distressed?

How should they know who to trust? Hell, I can barely tell anymore. I know that if I saw a kid crying in the street, I’d ask if they were okay, but I’m a grown (if not fully) man. I can discern what to do based on what the kid tells me.

Sure, it may be that they’re crying because their dad took away their laptop until they finished the dishes, but who knows? It also might be that some kids just beat them up and stole the money that they got from their nana.

I don’t know, but if they need help, I’m going to help them.

I just can’t explain that to the girls. Yet.

So maybe we are teaching them that it’s okay to disregard people that we don’t know when they are in trouble. I don’t know. If we are, I hope we are doing it out of concern for our children’s safety, and not because we think that they shouldn’t care about strangers, because they should. They need to have compassion and empathy, as well as caution and vigilance to keep themselves safe. We should always be guiding them to be better people and to aid people who need it.

Sure, we might be teaching our children that they needn’t concern themselves with the plight of others, but do you know what we aren’t teaching them?

To fucking rob people when they’ve been hit by a car.

Or even just to rob people, period.

No, that’s something that you must learn on your own, because I’ve known a lot of parents over the years, and not one of them told their kids that robbing people in a time of need was okay. If they did, I’d like to know about it, so I can tack hammer the shit out of their face.

Just in case you were thinking a tack hammer wouldn't hurt.

Just in case you were thinking a tack hammer wouldn’t hurt.

One day it could be us that’s lying in the street with our wits and belongings strewn about the intersection. What would you want to happen in that situation?

Just think about it, then talk to your kids. Tell them what to do if they see some poor bastard get run down in the street. Tell them that no matter what they decide to do, to make sure that they don’t fucking steal the person’s shit. While you’re teaching them things, watch this video with them.

I saw this the other day and it really got me thinking. Get your kids social media networks locked down. There’s no need for them to have anything public. This can happen anywhere, at any time, so put down whatever you’re doing tonight and talk to your children. Talk to them about safety and doing the right thing when it counts. When they grow up, they might thank you for it. If you’re lucky.

Voices are calling from inside my head, I can hear them, I can hear them,

Birdman

Jul 17

Someone Was Wrong On The Internet

Birdman

It’s something that Mrs Birdman dedicated to me one day. A cartoon. Apparently it’s my thing.

I can't help it. It's a sickness.

I can’t help it. It’s a sickness.

Anyhow, because it is so sweltering hot at my desk, I postponed finishing the Darien Lake post to do this, because it will be much quicker. It’s basically just a cutout of Ed’s Facebook status and the ensuing argument, but my wife thought it would make a good post, and I want to get into our air conditioned bedroom soon, so I said “What the hell? I’ll try anything twice.”

Anyhow, here it is in all of it’s glory.

Long, huh?

Long, huh?

I had to look up TLDR again, but I soon remembered someone else writing that on another argument I was in. I guess it’s a popular response to nerds. My baby sent me this excerpt from Wikipedia, when I asked her about it:

Maintain civility[edit]

Sometimes a person might feel that a reader’s decision to pointedly mention this essay during a discussion is dismissive and rude. Therefore, courteous editors might, as an alternative to citing WP:TLDR, create a section on the longwinded editor’stalk page and politely ask them to write more concisely.

A common mis-citation of this essay is to ignore the reasoned and actually quite clear arguments and requests for response presented by an unnecessarily wordy editor with a flippant “TL;DR” in an attempt to discredit and refuse to address their strongly-presented ideas and/or their criticism of one’s own position. This is a four-fold fallacyad hominemappeal to ridiculethought-terminating cliché, and simple failure to actually engage in the debate because one is supposedly too pressed for time to bother, the inverted version of proof by verbosity.

Lastly, shear laziness or excessively concise may miss an important set of details necessary to include a well branched entry despite lacking the requisite patience. [8].

Well, that’s it for tonight. I hope we get some rain soon to cool things off around here. I hear the crops could use it too. I will try to get something done around here soon.

So you think your schooling is phoney, I guess it’s hard not to agree, you say it all depends on the money and who is in your family tree,

Birdman