… by running away from all my problems.

The last few days I’ve been following up on the latest political news, which I realize tends to put me in a violent, must-eradicate-all-liberals-on-Earth kinda mood.  The last straw were all the personal attacks on Joe The Plumber, whose unforgiveable sin it seems had been that he asked a question.

But then I realized that despite spending so many hours reading up on the news, being well informed doesn’t really do anything for me except raise my blood pressure.  See,  I’m a guy who has no absolutely impact on anything that happens in the world, so why bother getting upset over things that I cannot possibly ever change?  Indeed, the only thing I CAN change is myself.  So I have decided to do just that… by withdrawing completely from reality and pursuing an escapist lifestyle where I can remain blissfully ignorant of everything that’s happening in the world. 

I can see the wisdom now of barricading myself in my room with nothing but my desktop PC, a bundle of Netflix DVDs, a few bags of Tostitos and some cheese dip.  I’d remove all the political/news feeds from my feedreader, lock out all the news channels on TV, then completely immerse myself in playing massive multiplayer games online (or perhaps my favorite Nancy Drew mystery games.)   If I have a hankering for something more than chips, I can always order from Papa John’s and have them slide the pizza under my door.

Who says I don’t know how to enjoy life?? 

My town was throwing a Columbus Day festival this weekend, which included a fireworks show for tonight.  Since I either hated everybody in town or they hated me, I avoided it like the plague.  I still got a chance to see the fireworks though since I was on the second floor and I was able to get a good view of it from my window.

It also gave me a good view of the drug dealers on the street too.

So here I am, just trying to mind my own business and enjoy the fireworks in peace, and there’s a crime in progress happening right underneath me.  God in heaven do I hate this town.

I watched the two scumbag dealers as they got into their black ride and tossed a few bags of “white powder” around, the door and headlights on in the dark of night so all the world could see what a bunch of schmucks they were.  They were getting ready to stoke a few up after what I guess must have been a good night for them, festival and all.

Hmmmmmmmmmm… 

I dialed 911.

“Yeah there’s a couple of guys hashing it up on the apartment grounds here, and I was wondering if you could send somebody over to go ruin their night?”  I gave the operator the location.

“What’s your name, sir?”

“Oh my name?  Sure my name is-”  I hung up.

I waited a few minutes, and eventually decided the cops weren’t going to do anything when a patrol car suddenly pulled up next to the dealers’ car.

What ensued afterwards turned out to be 10 times more fun to watch than the fireworks. 

It never ends, and it seems like no matter what and no matter who, women always manage to do those womenly things that piss me right the hell off and makes me want to join some kind of backwards religion that keeps women locked up in chains or some damned thing in order to prevent them from screwing up the world with their evil woman-ness.

But when I touched bases with a female blogger who seemed to acknowledge that women were inherently evil and worthy of endless flogging, I thought, “Finally, someone who gets me and understands my frustration with this abominable creation of nature that is woman.”  After trading a few emails, I ended up helping her monetize her blog with some degree of success (to the tune of a few hundred extra greens a month.)  Why?  Because I am if nothing else, an awesomely nice, studly guy. 

And then I never hear from her again.  I send several more emails.  Nothing.   Months go by.  Promises made by her are unabashedly broken.  I do her a favor, and in return I get plugged up the bonky boons.  Yep, typical woman engaging in typical womanly behavior, only one who admittedly recognized the cattiness and evilness of her gender, and then goes and does the very kind of thing that makes her kind so repugnant and worthy of dropping into a vat of boiling acid to begin with.

Ah well, lesson learned.  I will never befriend or help any kind of woman ever again no matter how decent, charming, or sweet she might be.  You are all the work of the devil and shall now and forever always be treated as such.  Burn in hell, you filthy terrorists of Satan!!!

(Now if you’ll excuse me, my Mommy needs me to pick up some groceries for her…)

I decided to shed some of the books I own as I prepare myself for a life on the run on the road, so I stopped by my local library to donate them.

I walked in and approached one of the clerks at the reception desk.

“I would like to donate these books please,”  I said with my broad, winning smile.

The haggish looking clerk took one look at them and said, “Sorry, we’re only accepting certain books, and we won’t need any of these here.”

“But… I have books on Abraham Lincoln!  And some really great books on the law too.  Don’t you want the patrons here to learn more about the law??  And lookie here, a beautiful vintage 1828 Webster’s Dictionary!  Wouldn’t that be awesome for your collection??”

She glanced at it.  “That’s a big dictionary, but we have enough dictionaries here.  Sorry!”

I grumbled as I picked up my stack of books.  Oh well, not a big deal, I’ll just drive to another library in a nearby town and donate it there.

20 minutes later…

I walked in with my stack of books to the reception desk.  “I would like to donate these books, please.”  Another winning smile. 

“Sorry, we’re not accepting donations right now.”

Again another song and dance about how valuable my books were and how important it is that people learn about the life of Abraham Lincoln and frick it man can’t you just take my #%^$ books anyway?? But still no dice.  Oh well, on to the next library.

20 miles later…

I walked into a quaint, little library happily whistling the tune to the Andrew Griffith Show, only this time I walked right past the reception area and sat down at a table near the reference section.  I had my books in my bag, so I took them out and placed them neatly on the desk.  I then got up, smiled my ever winning smile one more time… and left.

Mission accomplished.    Now with that out of the way, I can focus on winnowing down my stuffed animals collection.  Anybody here want one of my teddy bears?

I’m getting a little tired these days of stopping by Blockbuster and looking up and down and left to right for movies they never have, not to mention having to put up with adorable looking couples sassing each other and being so happy together that I just want to start lobbing DVD boxes at them for daring to pollute my air with their irritating public displays of affection.  Just die, please.

Truth be told though, I rarely go to Blockbuster nowadays, opting instead to grab up DVDs at my supermarket, which has a Redbox Machine.  But even that’s become an aggravating chore lately.  Nothing quite puts me in the mood to wreak death and destruction upon mankind then having to wait behind somebody who takes their sweeeeeeeeeeeeet ass time checking the Redbox listings while I loudly tap my foot and check my watch, knowing I’ll have to pay a dollar more if I can’t jam my DVD back in there within the next three minutes.

“BITCH GET THE F*&^ OUT OF THE WAY I GOT TO RETURN THIS THING BEFORE 9PM CAN”T YOU SEE THAT DAMMIT TO HELL!?!?!”

So yeah, I think RedBox has pretty much lost its appeal as well.  Solution?  Netflix!!

But as I surfed the site and prepared to sign up, a thought occurred to me:  am I being too antisocial here?

It seems the more I go out there and run into the scum sucking, methane ripping porkbags otherwise known as the human race, the more I want to stay home and have everything including my groceries mail-ordered to me instead.  Then I can just hide under the bed with my laptop and my Tostitos and play Nancy Drew games until the end of the world comes, which should be oh, shortly after people realize the bailout didn’t do zippy dinks to save the economy and The Great Depression Part 2:  Obama Takes Us To Hell officially gets under way.

But then I think, perhaps I’m being too harsh here?  That maybe, just maybe, with a sincere effort to go out there and connect with other human beings I’d end up finding some who are not so rudely vile and disgusting after all, and maybe even attract a nice girl for once in my life?

Nah.  Indiana Jones first ever DVD in my Netflix queue baby!!  BOOYAH!    Now where are my Tostitos…

Well it looks like the iPhone is out for me.    I’ll have to look into alternatives with Verizon instead.  Why you ask?  Because Apple, in their ever so thoughtful consideration for the disabled decided to flip off those of us who were hearing impaired by designing a phone incompatible with digital hearing aids.  Thanks Apple! 

There was this whole stink about it last year too, but I would have thought by now they’d wise up to their asshattedness and produce a more compatible phone with the release of the iPhone 3G.  Nope.  I gave it a try today and immediately heard a grating buzzing sound as soon as I put my aids in telecoil (telephone) mode.  I can still hear the voice on the other end but the screeching banshee sounds as a result of electronic interference didn’t exactly make it a pleasure to use.  Beautiful.

Guess I’ll be sticking with Verizon then, at least for the time being.  I checked their list of Smartphone / PDA / Blackberries that were hearing aid compatible and found the following short list:

I have no idea how any of these phones differ from the iPhone, but I’m gonna guess they all suck flaming hog balls in comparison.    The Mx/Tx designation by the way determines how compatible they are.  Anything with the number 3 meets the compatibility standard, while any number above that exceeds the standard (in other words, 4 is better.)

Guess I’ll be doing some research today while I curse out Apple’s name.