Wednesday, November 23, 2011

The Inevitable Fall, Rise, and Triumph of Yorick Stardust

Greetings, readers. Your battle-worn bard must step away from the recent rants about the nonsense of the world to focus on a home-borne tale of woe and whimsy. This, friends and enemies, is the tale of the Inevitable Fall, Rise, and Triumph of Yorick Stardust!

You may recall my tales of Yorick the Short. He has been mentioned many times in the annals of the Chronicles of Nonsense, all the way from the beginning. He is the Squire Specialist who does the work of four full squires. He has three levels of professional certifications in our primary function: the creation of paths and castles for other kingdoms. He is only hours away from acquiring his Bachelor of Science in Tomfoolery. Though everyone depended on him to do ALL the work in the kingdom, he still was treated with disrespect, for his Tomfoolery degree was not yet at hand…Also, lord who supervised him is ShaqsDad the Destroyer. Yorick asked for little; only respect and acknowledgement for all his feats. Instead, the lords, and some to the squires chose to only use him for corporate sodomy after carrying the group for the many moons that he has been here. He only asked that he be allowed to put on lipstick before they f***ed him, but they instead used a sand and tobacco sauce lube to make the f***ing less pleasurable:

  • The first nail had been told, in his venture to the City of Sin. No one fought to keep him in Morondor.
  • Yorick suggested that one of his former colleagues from when he was a sea-faring warrior be allowed to work in the Kingdom. They did so! Welcome: Bradley, Master of Bad Punnery. Bradley was hired as a Squire Specialist 4. Yorick is a Squire Specialist 2. Bradley knows slightly less than Yorick. WTF? Nail 2.
  • The Counsel of Squires is an annual event, where all squires of Morondor are reviewed and either admonished or praised for their feats. Traditionally, an extra pouch of gold or promotion is in order. Yorick’s was filled with praise beyond all. He was told were it not for his accomplishments, our sector of the Kingdom would surely fall to the dank dungeons of Morondor. For his accomplishments, he was awarded with a promotion! ...wait, no he wasn’t! ShaqsDad “forgot” to submit the Parchments of Promotion to the Kingdom’s HR department. No promotion, even though he deserved it! Nail 3.
  • In the Counsel, Yorick asked, “Well, when I finally acquire my Bachelor of Tomfoolery, shall I at least be promoted to full Squire?” His lord responded, “No, we cannot do that, because [insert steaming pile of dragon dung here]”…it was not known exactly what was said, because it did not matter. None of it made sense. Nail 4.
  • So Yorick asked, “Do I at least get an extra packet of gold for the year?” Again, the answer was no. Instead of giving a large pouch of gold to Yorick, ShaqsDad thought it would be smarter to distribute the pouch of gold amongst all the brand new squires, none of whom have really proven themselves yet, one of whom we all KNOW is probably only slightly smarter than burlap. Nail 5.
  • Yorick decided to look inside the Kingdom for another opportunity, partially because he could only take so much sodomy, and partially because he wanted to see if anyone would care. He told his lord of his venture to another part of Morondor, and his lord did not raise much of an eyebrow. Yorick supposed this meant he did not care, or perhaps he thought Yorick would not leave such a nice position. Yorick got an offer within a week, and THAT’S when maelstrom hit our serfdom. THAT is when there was empty talk of counter-offers. THAT’S when people acted like they care. Nail 6.

Yorick did not take the offer from the other realm of the Kingdom, and all lords thought that meant he enjoyed the sodomy here so much that he could not leave. Oh, smug looks on their faces were wide and shining, like they had all just got laid by Angela Bassett. ShaqsDad had the largest grin. What they did not know was that Yorick had also applied to a completely different kingdom: the Kingdom of Cisc. Cisc offered him a role in their kingdom that nearly tripled his gold intake via flying monkey. He was merely waiting for the parchment to come, and one fortnight prior, it did. Yorick shall leave the kingdom of Morondor today, and shall work for the Kingdom of Cisc come next fortnight. Finally, Yorick got to sodomise his sodomites. He did not use lipstick either. The squires who respect him quietly rejoiced.

This is a sad day for the Kingdom of Morondor; for we will lose one Yorick, and it angers some that it all could have been avoided. However, the lords in charge of the squires are too addicted to sodomising all those in their employ with tobacco sauce lube that they could not stop for one minute to try to keep their best squire…I’m sorry; “squire SPECIALIST”. Fare thee well, Yorick. You shall be missed dearly by those who know your worth.

…Aren’t you glad I got through this whole post without making some sort of “Alas, poor Yorick…” pun?

Friday, November 11, 2011

An Ode to the Pope of Penn State

A week in review: Jerry Sandusky is charged with child rape that allegedly happened on Penn State’s campus. Gary Schultz and Tim Curley, senior VP for finance & business and athletic director respectively, were also arrested for trying to cover up the incident by not going to the police and simply banning Sandusky from the locker rooms. This way, he couldn’t rape boys on campus. He’d have to find somewhere else to rape them. The president of the university, Graham Spanier, and the famous head coach, Joe Paterno were both fired for their knowledge and subsequent lack of legal action. Mike McQueary, one of the first individuals to report Sandusky’s actions to his superiors, is now getting threats for his role in indirectly ending Joe Paterno’s lustrous career.

Oh Joe, we loved you so…That bastard McQueary ruined your career, by telling the truth. How insidious of him, to report an EGREGIOUS crime, and think that you would do something about it. Thanks to McQueary, you’re now out of a job. Oh, woe is Joe. How dare those victims of rape by one of your coaches break their silence in the grand jury presentment? There’s no telling how many more silent victims are out there, possibly suffering from the psychological trauma of having their innocence ripped from them. Their hope for a normal childhood is dead, much like your chance of getting a pension from Penn State...too soon? Does it hurt that I bring this up? Does it hurt as much as getting sexually assaulted in a shower? Poor, poor Joe. Poor rich as f***, regionally loved, will-likely-make-more-millions-off-a-book-of-his-memoirs Joe. Even the students of Penn State, always ready to burn s*** and overturn cars in the name of sports, protested your firing by turning over a news van. The evil media as again struck. Those demons reported the truth, and now Joe is gone, unjustly, for not doing what he should have done: calling the police. Even Ashton Kutcher was on your side for a few minutes, until someone reminded him that you helped cover up alleged CHILD RAPE. Oh Ashton. You are only half as smart as your Kelso character, which you’ve been portraying for 10 years straight now.

But back to Joe, the Pope of Penn State. What EVER shall you do? Where EVER shall you go? Your tenure is null and void. Your life is ruined. Those nasty board members could have let you retire with honour at the end of the season, as you professed to do. Way to take one for the team! You would have “shortened” your 46 year career with a cushy nest egg and a pension, but no, Joe, this won’t be so. You should look on the bright side though: at least you’re not one of the eight boys (probably more) who were sexually assaulted in the Penn State shower locker rooms by a man that you thought you could trust. You at least have that going for you. You’re just one of the many “men” who could have stopped the alleged crime, but didn’t do a thing. You spent all that time doing nothing to keep the reputation of your beloved sports department and university intact. Because if we learned anything from the Catholic Church, keeping quiet about sexual abuse and simply shifting around the perpetrators will NEVER eventually catch up to you. That modus operandi is so sound. It’s like putting a cobra in a basket and not telling anyone, and then when someone opens the basket and the cobra rapes a boy, you’re all aghast.

Poor, poor, Joe. Before you were furloughed, you said, "This is a tragedy. It is one of the great sorrows of my life. With the benefit of hindsight, I wish I had done more." Is that because your inaction led to more boys being harmed, or because you lost your precious pension, and now you look as culpable as the rest of the people who let Sandusky allegedly get away with wanton sex crimes against minors? You tried to hide the truth, possibly so that your school’s good name would not be tarnished. That would have been honourable, had it not been for the fact that you were probably covering up CHILD RAPE. Your honour and your school’s honour would have stayed illustrious, had you grown a pair and went over people’s heads when they did nothing…unless, of course, you were part of the conspiracy to hide. Then you can go f*** yourself. Besides, you needn’t worry about the school’s image being tarnished. The students of Penn State, who took to the streets in anger over your firing, and not over the child rape victims, bathed the Penn State image in vats of Santorum. Your silence is not golden after all.

Monday, November 7, 2011

Silver Linings

Greetings to all. Your Beleaguered Bard has a tale of woe to spin for you. But fear not; there are silver linings, for I SHALL find the light in everything that has befallen me, then make light of the bad parts to make everyone laugh and/or feel awkwardly uncomfortable. The story begins at 5:30am, when I got up with an IMMENSE headache. WTF? I was going to just stay in bed, but three Advils and 45 minutes later, I was at work, at my desk, ready to work. My mobile rang. It was my ex-wife, to whom I had not spoken in three years. What the f***?

ME: Hello?
SHE [In still-thick Ukrainian accent]: Hi, how are you?
ME: [In my mind] What the f***?
SHE: Hello? Are you there?
ME: Um, yes…What do you want? Why are you calling me?
SHE: Well, I need favour. Can y-
ME: Wait, is the baby still white?
SHE: …yes, bu-
ME: Okay, then. Отвали. Bye!

See, my “lovely” ex and I had a deal: She doesn’t call me again, and I don’t hurl insults at her. I felt it was the least she could do, seeing that the baby came out white and all. Il est juste, non?

Work goes on…I get an email, sent to everyone:

There are 10 of these canopy tarps in the [construction lab]. They are new in the box. If you are interested in owning one, please let me know. If we end up with more than 10 people interested, we will draw names to determine the winners. Drawing will take place on 11/14/11 at noon.

Timothy Needstochill

Cool! A few canopy tarps for the Academy! So I promptly replied:

Hi Tim,
Are those canopy tarps already spoken for? If not, I’d like two of them, one if there are more requests for them. Just let me know when I can pick them up, and I’ll make it happen.

 -Squire B.

…To which he replied:

If you read my e-mail you would have clearly seen that we are going to raffle them off next Monday. Since I already have 25 requests The chances of you getting 2 is Zero. I’ll put your name in the hat.

What. The. F***? The id in me wished to go down to his office and pound a response into him, about as physically rude as his email was. This would have been a bad idea since he was a manager. I’d have been a hero, but out of a job. Fortunately, I took a few breaths, and the sarcastic bastard in me wrote this…and BCC’ed a few squires:

 My apologies. After re-reading the e-mail that was forwarded by Karen, when you said, “IF we end up with more than 10 people interested, we will draw names to determine the winners”, I assumed you meant that the raffle would be a condition of you getting more than 10 responses.

 Since I do not have access to your inbox and therefore have no way of knowing how many people may have contacted you regarding the tarps, I thought the appropriate/most civil course of action was to ask you if they were still available with the quantity I wished to have, and to let you know I could take them off your hands as soon as I can, as I am aware of the limited space you have in the SCA.

 Since they are not, I am more than happy to participate in the raffle for at least one. I’ll look forward to the name-drawing on 14th November.

 Best Regards,
Squire Bugiganga

…I highly doubt I’m going to get that tarp…

Finally, I headed home to change before training, and as I turned into the driveway to my car park spot, I saw that neighbour had parked at the beginning of the driveway, thereby blocking the only way for any of the 9 tenants who are paying for parking to get to our spots. WHAT. THE. F***!!!  I pretty much gave up. This must be the precursor to what will be a week to remember. Do I just stay in a shell all week? I was waiting for someone to ask if I had a case of the Mondays, so that I could practise extracting their trachea with my mind. F*** a Monday.

…then I entered my apartment, and the building manager was taping up my windows for the winter. Brilliant! I’ve been waiting weeks for him to do that. He did a spot on job too. Now to just need to get a bigger heater, and I’m set for the weekend. Then I checked the mail, and I apparently overpaid a credit card bill by about $200. They sent me the check for the difference today. F*** yeah!

Then I reflected on the happenings of the day, and realised a few things: ShaqsDad (my boss) is gone for 3 days. That’s like a having a holiday at work. I was only on the phone with my ex-wife for 30 seconds, and also, the sound of her voice did not enrage me to the point of blacking out and spewing the most wretched, soul-piercing vitriol ever known to humans, as it did the first time I heard from her after she gave me the good news. I think that's progress. I got to make a manager of Morondoor look like the yutz he is, using his own words. Because of my a**hole neighbour, I got a street spot that was slightly more convenient than my paid spot. And after everything, I got $200 for having a s****y day! It’s like when I was on a bad date, and when walking back, I found $60 on the street, which was the amount I spent for dinner. Speaking of dinner, I happen to be eating a soup that my neighbour's friend made for me, and the tortellini noodles look a lot like tiny vaginas. I don't know anyone who can be in a bad mood while eating vaginas.

So I suppose this tail of woe is not so woeful afterall. I’m up $200, I had fun assistant-teaching today, I got confirmation that a wound had finally closed, I got to use my lacklustre writing skills to put a smile on some co-workers’ faces, and I'm munching on what looks like my favourite thing on which to munch. The lessons: It’s almost always much easier to find the silver lining than it is to wallow in sorrow, so keep your f***ing chin up and stop your bitching. Also, after the baby comes out white, nothing is ever really THAT big a deal. :-D

Wednesday, November 2, 2011

CoNservation, Morondoor Style

The Kingdom of Morondoor has a new green policy: from here on, all printers in the Kingdom shall by default set to print duplex, in order to save paper.

They made this announcement via e-mail, website post, and by making large, single-sided paper signs, posting them above every printer in every office of the multinational business. To make sure that it would be extra difficult to recycle the signs, the 11x17 signs were laminated.

In other news, 35% of the employees of Morondoor learned the hard way that it is actually possible to face-palm yourself hard enough to induce a mild concussion. Work productivity is temporarily down to 65%.

Reason Why I'm Single #341: The K/C Comparison

I was going to say something about Kim Kardashian’s divorce filing from [insert famous rich black guy], but I remembered that I don’t give a flying f***.

I will say this, though: I noticed that “Kardashian” and “Cardassian” are phonetically similar. Both are not of this land originally. Both are known for large protrusions on their bodies. Both wear tight clothing. Most interestingly, they both think that they are much more important than they really are, expect others to cater to them, and are really just a bunch of shallow, attention-whoring a**holes.

…and I read this back to myself and realise why I’m still single…

Disqus for The Chronicles of Nonsense

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