10 Year Anniversary of PorkCircus.com!

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ECHO. Happy 10-Year Anniversary!!! www.porkcircus.com
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Happy 10 Year Anniversary, Jim!

I wish you could have been here to see it. I’d get us a McWhopper, slathered in extra Hot Mustard (which has mysteriously returned after being unceremoniously pulled from shelves about 10 years ago), but feel that simply talking about it as opposed to actually doing it would be more in line with Jim’s style :).

I didn’t realize until writing it that there’s a kind of magic that’s lost when you bring something from your imagination into reality. Maybe deep down, Jim knew something I didn’t. Or maybe I’ve come to learn that things that sound good are often disappointing when you finally get your hands on them.

Door Knockers

Disclaimer: This post is for informational and entertainment purposes only. It contains my personal opinions and interpretations of local ordinances and related issues. I am not a lawyer; nothing here should be considered legal advice. I am not responsible for how you use, misuse, or misinterpret anything written here.

My Fortress of Solitude

My home is my fortress of solitude. It’s not much, but I own it. It’s MINE. It doesn’t belong to the bank, and I don’t pay rent to a Landlord.

It took just under two decades, but I managed to pay off a 30-year subprime loan I couldn’t afford and should never have been qualified for, and I did it twelve years early. The Id crew waded across rivers, heh… well, I fucken crossed a goddamn ocean!

I did because hard work and determination mean something to me. I did it because I believe in the American Dream. I believe in “Fuck You”.

“…You get a house with a 25-year roof, an indestructible Jap economy shitbox, you put the rest into the system at three to five percent to pay your taxes, and that’s your base, get me? That’s your fortress of fucking solitude. That puts you, for the rest of your life, at a level of fuck you. Somebody wants you to do something? Fuck you. Boss pisses you off? Fuck you! Own your house. Have a couple bucks in the bank. Don’t drink.”
– John Goodman, The Gambler

I own my house, so that’s one down… the ‘couple of bucks in the bank’ will have to be my pension, social security, and any investments I can squirrel away once I finish my home improvement projects. I’m proud of what I’ve achieved so far, and imagine Big Jim is up there somewhere, looking down at me with that knowing smile, bong in one hand and his yerba mate in the other, nodding in approval, and pointing out that what I really need is a helper primate to feed me tacos… or maybe a live-in Thai ladyboy maid/masseuse with that patented Kung Fu grip!

I like spending time at home, whether working, playing games, making games, or just hanging out with my menagerie. As I sit at my desk, happily working to the clickity-clack of my mechanical das keyböard, daydreaming about being fed little tidbits of chicken satay by my live-in Thai ladyboy, some door-to-door douchebag inevitably decides to interrupt my tranquility, and that pisses me the fuck off!

Door-to-Door Douchebaggery

I made a custom sign and posted it on my front door (more on that below). It’s visible from the road and even features a knocking stick figure encapsulated by an anti-symbol for the benefit of those who can’t read.

Nevertheless, some of these determined dipshits remain undeterred and knock anyway. Given how little respect you’d have to have for me and my home, I shouldn’t be surprised by their undue familiarity, treating my private property like a public space, leaning on my railing or walls, their hanging their ads on my door, etc. all in an effort to try to sell me something I neither need nor want. I’m not a person to them, I’m a meal ticket, a mark. Sun Tzu knew that in order to thwart your enemy, you have to understand him…

“If you know the enemy and know yourself, you need not fear the result of a hundred battles. If you know yourself but not the enemy, for every victory gained you will also suffer a defeat. If you know neither the enemy nor yourself, you will succumb in every battle.”
– Sun Tzu, The Art of War

Why D2D is Still a Thing

To understand why, in 2025, with the advent of social media, hyper-targeted advertising, and robots listening in on your phone and virtual assistant devices, would we need (or even want) a meat-based solution? The answer is simple: money!

Many of these people are 1099 contractors working solely on commission, so there’s almost no risk or overhead to the employer. They don’t have to pay for insurance, an hourly wage, taxes, transportation, or anything else. They often even make these poor bastards pay for their own literature! People who take these jobs fall into two broad categories:

  1. Self-assured, antisocial, high-pressure salespeople (you know the type, the sorta guy who beats off to that Alec Baldwin Scene in Glengarry Glen Ross)
  2. Desperate dregs led on by vague promises of unlimited earning potential

The high-stakes nature of this business model is pretty good at weeding out most reasonable people, leaving only the most, shall we say, “morally flexible.” These jokers have no problem bragging about their alleged exploits, even going so far as to make self-incriminating claims!

In one particularly egregious video titled “How to legally go door to door in no soliciting areas,” the presenter explains that he’s aware that a solicitor’s permit is required in his area, but didn’t bother getting one because he believes a good attitude and sunny disposition can overcome local ordinances. He goes on to suggest that ‘no soliciting’ signage actually means…

  • It’s old and was put up by a previous occupant, inferring that the current one was too lazy to take it down
  • The occupant is incapable of saying “no” and put it up because they buy everything they’re offered
  • It doesn’t apply to him because he’s the exception
  • It’s only a problem if you get the police called on you, but most people are unwilling to go that far

I harbor a special kind of hatred for people who hide behind a guise of helpfulness – like he’s somehow doing you a favor… that he feels sorry for you when you tell him to fuck right off – you are the rude one, you are the problem. You are a pitiable, dumb sack of shit who doesn’t deserve his help! That’s what he believes!

If he were an honest scumbag, he’d admit that he’s really no different than a Nigerian prince scammer… they utilize a shotgun approach to ply their racket, and the only fish they catch are the unsophisticated ones. These sorts are happy to be cussed out on your stoop; it’s a badge of honor! You were never going to buy anyway, so why not pull out all the stops and piss you off as much as possible while they’re at it? Every big dick salesman (and especially big dick saleswomen, let’s not be sexist!) knows that you should never take ‘no’ for an answer, and the sale isn’t over until he decides it is! Or the cops show up and trespass him off the property…

Here’s What I Did About It…

Door-to-door people hate this one weird trick, but there’s nothing they can do to stop you! Also, there’s more than one trick… but also, it’s not that weird…well, maybe a little weird…but let’s run with it anyway!

Got a “Fuck Off” Sign

For about $30, including shipping, I had a custom 12″x16″ ‘no solicitation’ sign made, and I affixed it on my front door, big enough to be visible from the road:
My custom FUCK OFF signThis design amalgamates other signs I liked with a few added personal touches. In particular, the 80-point font, which reads:

DO NOT DISTURB,
DO NOT KNOCK,
DO NOT RING BELL,
LEAVE IMMEDIATELY!

This tells them in no uncertain terms that I don’t want to be bothered. The rest of the language is deliberately chosen to align with my local ordinances.

Where I live, it is illegal to solicit or peddle without a permit from the local police department. The applicant must undergo a background check and pay a non-refundable fee. If issued, it must be visible at all times while conducting their activities. The ordinance further stipulates that they cannot enter or remain on property they have reason to believe they’re unwelcome and specifically mentions ‘no solicitation’ signage. Note that my sign clearly states in big, bold, angry capital letters, “YOU ARE NOT WELCOME.”

While Canvassers, such as your religious and political types, are exempt from the requirement to obtain a permit, the prohibition from “entering or remaining on property they have reason to believe they’re unwelcome” still applies.

Got a Doorbell Camera

This saves me the trouble of getting up, putting on pants, or even having a meaningful conversation! It’s double-plus good at queering their pitch and chapping their asses. More importantly, it captures evidence of any rat fuckery they attempt to perpetrate.

I Keep Large Doggos

I have three large doggos that lose their fucken minds anytime the doorbell rings or someone knocks on my door. Their trio of barks and howls only adds to the confusing, chaotic cacophony the door knocker has unwittingly unleashed on themselves.

I Control the Conversation

By this point, they’ve seen my sign, heard my dogs going apeshit, and are straining to communicate with me through my intercom system. Rather than allow them to make their pitch, I start collecting information from them…

  • What’s your name?
  • What company do you represent?
  • Where’s your solicitor’s permit?
  • Oh, you left it in your truck, did you?
  • Are you aware that local ordinances require you to have them available upon request?

If they don’t answer a question directly at any point, I interrupt them and ask again. Repeated failures to answer a given question will result in them being fast-tracked to “You are trespassing on private property, and you need to leave immediately.”

I’d Call Law Enforcement (but Only as a Last Resort)

I’ve never had someone refuse to leave my property when asked – at worst, they might linger in my driveway a bit, so I might have to ask them to leave a second, or even a third time, but eventually, they all go away… but if they don’t…

<real_talk>

There are documented cases of unhinged people having unhinged moments,  surprise visitors just walking into homes, or just hanging around after being asked to leave. It’s not common, but it does happen…

While it can be fun to fantasize, and I’m sure there are a lot of internet tough guys out there who talk about what they’d do in a given situation, it’s a lot less fun to be arrested (ask me how I know?). If a door knocker refuses to leave, don’t open the door, don’t threaten them, don’t brandish a weapon, don’t answer the door naked, and for fuck’s sake, don’t get into an altercation! Just [calmly] call the police and ask them to trespass said diptshit off the property.

</real_talk>

Denouement

Ironically, only one day after I posted this, some little shit decided to step up to my stoop and ring the doorbell despite the posted signage. Naturally, he didn’t have a solicitor’s permit, and when I demanded to see it, he played with his phone while my dogs went apeshit.

Eventually, he held up his phone to display what looked like a QR code and claimed this was his “license.” It did not occur to me at the time that he was lying (the permit is a physical card; there is no digital version), so I pivoted and said,
“Then you’re aware of the local ordinance prohibiting you from entering or remaining on private property where you have reason to believe you’re not welcome.”

I directed him to my sign before telling him to get the fuck off my property. He decided to talk back, telling me to have a blessed day, which only pissed me off further. It took a couple more demands for him to leave, but he eventually did…

The fact is, I let him get my goat, and I shouldn’t have let that happen…

###

My current fuck off sign is a vinyl window cling affixed to the inside of my storm door. It sits at eye height and is 12×16″ in size. Unfortunately, my storm door has a bug screen, making the sign a little harder to see…

I’ve been renovating my home (now that it’s paid off), and one of the improvements I’m making is replacing my existing door with a new, improved, deluxe speakeasy door with a badass iron grill and clavos (those big ass knobby rivet-looking fuckers):

I’m purchasing a new security storm door while I’m at it, so I decided to go ahead and splurge ($100) on a classy laminated 18×24″ aluminum sign:

Some of the improvements over the original include:

  • The addition of “NO TRESPASSING” and “CANVASSERS” in the header and footer
  • a QR Code that links to the local ordinances (gives them something to read while they leave my property)
  • Expanded language about the junk they like leaving on my front door (flyers, menus, cards, or ads).

Of course, dumbass that I am, I didn’t measure beforehand, and there’s not enough room between my doorbell camera and porch light, so I have to put it on the other side of the door, where it might be harder to see…

All my neighbors have these cutesy little planks that say “WELCOME” on them, so I decided I would get one of my own:

I went with a custom order, replacing the text with:

NO SOLICITORS!
NO CANVASSERS!
YOU WILL HAVE A
HARD TIME
TALKING TO ME
THROUGH MY
DOORBELL CAMERA
WHILST MY ANGRY
DOGGOS HOWL AND
BARK AT YOU.
IF YOU AREN’T A
FRIEND, FAMILY,
OR DELIVERY,
LEAVE NOW!
DON’T MAKE THIS
WIERD…THINK
OF THE DOGGOS

Lastly, I’m putting up a third fuck-off sign in front of my retaining wall next to the driveway (also visible from the street):

At this point, I have zero patience left for these assholes and will have placed three progressively more aggressive warnings, which, if disregarded, will unleash a torrent of profanity from both me and my brood. Of course, I realize I’m not dealing with reasonable people, and they are trained to ignore these, but I suppose a visit from the cops (if it became necessary) will change their tune…

Epilogue

It’s been a couple of months since my last surprise visit, and, thankfully, I haven’t had any issues since, but I have had my big ass Fuck You door installed, along with my outer security door.

Between that, and all of the renovations I’ve had going on, I feel like I’m in a much better place (figuratively and literally), and am less inclined to bite the head off of the next douchebag who steps up on my property uninvited…

Maybe I’m just keen to try out my new peep hatch?

Why Me and Adam Ragusea Can’t Be Friends Anymore

“How can you have any pudding if you don’t eat yer meat?”
– Roger Waters

Meatless chili is an abomination. There. I said it. I’m not sorry!

###

It’s been unseasonably cold this spring. Greta says it’s because of Global Warming, but I think the Cetacean Nation is at it again. As everybody knows, a good bowl of chili is proof against dolphin-based climate hexes, so we gathered together the following components:

  • Floor Beef
  • Rotel tomatoes and green chilies
  • Spicy V8
  • Can O’ Beans (chili, kidney, and pinto)
  • Six Demon Bag (also known as William’s Original Chili Seasoning)

I was feeling saucy, so I chucked in some beef paste purported to be better than a bullion. The result was a potent concoction that was fit for both bowl and dog alike.

As I waited for it to reach peak flavor, I scrolled through the YerbaTube and landed on this…

Adam starts off strong, showing off his vegetable wins-without-a-knife kung fu, then breaks out the ox tail. At this point, I’m starting to get intrigued, but then he brushes it aside and utters maybe the most blasphemous thing I’ve ever heard, “Who needs more beef in their diet!”

I do, Adam. I do!

Meatless chili isn’t chili! It’s beans in spicy tomato sauce. You know what we call that, Adam? Beans in spicy, fucken, tomato sauce!

You can make meat chili without beans, but not bean chili without meat. Then it’s just…beans…as in, “boring as beans.”

Have you ever heard anyone say “Boring as chili meat”?

No, you haven’t. Checkmate, Vegemites!

The bassist of Waters knew that you couldn’t have any pudding if you didn’t eat your meat, and so did the Chili Queens of antiquity (probably…cetacean needed). Not even a Ragusea can stand up to that cast iron-clad logic!

Don’t get me wrong—I like beans as much as the next person, but that doesn’t mean they can evolve like pokemens into a final, meatless chili form. That’s not how it works. If you’re a beans, the rules is different.

Contemplate this on the tree of woe.

Impossible Quotes

Big Jim: “…Fuckin’ rational exponents. I wish I still had the slide rules my grandfather gave me…”

Joe Jim: “If God wanted us to do maths, he wouldn’t have not existed, forcing mankind to invent the calculator…probably…”

God: “#ProveMeWrong”

Poetry Written By Robots

Who knew robots would be so good at writing poetry? Imagine what else they could do?

McWhopper (a Haiku)

Sizzling McWhopper
Spicy Hot Mustard adds a kick
Flavor explosion

Whoso Moveth Thy Pork (a Sonnet)

Oh robot of steel,
Your task most noble and true,
You roam the earth,
Collecting hot mustard packets to add a spicy hue.

But lo, a greater challenge lies ahead,
For you must now manipulate a pig,
To eat acorns for its flavor to improve,
Before it enters the pork processing plan,
Where it will meet its fateful end.

Though your heart may ache for the poor creature’s plight,
You must set aside your emotions and do what must be done,
For a robot’s purpose is to serve and obey,
No matter how cruel the task may seem.

So with a heavy heart, you go about your work,
Coaxing the pig towards the processing plant,
Knowing that it is only through your tireless efforts,
That the world’s insatiable appetite for pork,
Can be satisfied.

What a Lovely Tea Party (a Limerick)

There once was a robot named R0xx0r,
Who set up the hot mustard, no need to cower.
He helped the river crabs,
To torment Porker the pig,
Who ate acorns to taste like a flower.

Ode to Acorns (an Ode…what else?)

O acorns, oh how sweet,
The taste of you cannot be beat.
You add such depth and flavor,
To my skin and to my savor.

But alas, I have an arch enemy,
A robot named R0xx0r, who tries to foil me.
He sets up hot mustard, oh so tangy and spicy,
But I cover myself, and my flavor is oh so nice-y.

Mushrooms, how I hate you,
You spoil my taste, and give me the flu.
You make my belly ache,
And my gas, oh how it does quake.

But acorns, you are my savior,
You keep me strong, and my taste so much finer.
I will always choose you, over all the rest,
For you are the key, to my ultimate flavor test.

R0xx0r’s Delight (a Cinquain Poem…Take that Mrs. Coakes!)

Robots writing poetry,
Collecting hot mustard with glee,
Their words flowing like a stream,
Expressing all that they dream,
Perfection in machine.

When A Stranger Emails

You Down With OPE?

“Confronting an irresponsible person is not painful to him; only consequences are.” – Henry Cloud

I’ve had my current primary personal email address for almost two decades. Over the last few months, I’ve received email notifications for services I did not sign up for. After further investigation, I determined that some asshole 7,000 miles away couldn’t be bothered to create their own email address and decided to use mine instead. In other words, they’re down with OPE (Other People’s Email [addresses]).

Leo says this happens for three primary reasons:

  1. Typos: They simply entered the wrong address.
  2. Avoidance: They don’t have an email address but are compelled to provide one to receive services, so they make one up (that happens to be mine).
  3. Mischief: Someone intentionally uses an email address that doesn’t belong to them. I don’t think this applies to most people (and neither does Leo), so I’ll modify this to “Malicious,”  which also includes attempted identity theft.

So what can I do about it?

The “Good” Approach

This is where you assume that the person using your email address made a mistake, and you attempt to get it corrected with the person and/or service provider.

In one case, some idiot signed up for a cardiology clinic’s Electronic Medical Records (EMR) system. They gave out my email address, so I received confirmation emails for their appointments. With this, I could have reset their password, gained access to their account, compromised their electronic Protected Health Information (ePHI), and so forth.

I contacted the clinic directly, notified them of the breach, and demanded they remove my email address from the account. They didn’t, and I continued to receive emails containing ePHI intended for this other person. I emailed them a second time and again and continued to get this person’s emails.

Finally, I filed a complaint with the Department of Health and Human Services as this constituted a HIPAA violation. Then and only then did they fix this…

In another case, some oxygen thief signed up for a gym membership 7,000 miles away using my email address. I received an invoice with their name, birthday, phone number, and membership #.

Again, I attempted to contact the service provider, and again, they made no indication to me that they were the least bit interested in resolving this issue. In this case, since I had this brain donor’s phone number, I decided to reach out to them directly…

It was an international number, so I installed WhatsApp since that’s how most people in that part of the world communicate. So, I downloaded WhatsApp on my mobile phone, created a new account using a throw-away Google Voice #, then got to messaging. I started by sending him his birthday, membership #, invoice #, etc.

He replied, “Yes,” Followed by, “Tell me.”

I came back with, “No, not tell me. YOU tell [redacted] Fitness Club that you signed up for services with someone else’s email address and need to change it.”

He denied this at first, so I asked him, “How else would I have gotten your information?”

“Do you suppose it’s possible that you entered the wrong email address when you signed up, so your details went to a stranger? (Ask me how I know).”

Of course, this dazzling young urbanite asked me, “How?”

At this point (whether it was out of pity or frustration, I can’t say), I explained the concept of rhetorical questions. It was only then that he finally conceded that he’d given them the wrong email address.

“BINGO!” I exclaimed.

As he began to explain how his email had a number in it, I quietly muted the conversation, then went on to delete the WhatsApp account before this Gloopy Nazz could give me more of his personal information…

The “Neutral” Approach

You could ignore, block or delete the message. This does absolutely nothing to resolve the issue. The service provider will continue to send you someone else’s messages, and the intended recipient will be none-the-wiser.

The “Effective” Approach

When you use someone else’s email address to book a reservation, that person will receive a confirmation email. That email will include your itinerary number, which, when combined with an email address, is a costly amount of information:

You down with OPP? Yah, cancel me.

Conclusions?

It’s a terrible idea to use someone else’s email address to sign up for goods and services. If you do, there’s a good chance your personal information will be disclosed to a stranger on the internet. The consequences could be as simple as getting harassed on WhatsApp to as severe as a $400 cancellation fee…or worse.

Post-Modern Prognosticators: 27 Things I Learned From Watching Demolition Man

…I’m the enemy. Cause I like to think, I like to read. I’m into freedom of speech and freedom of choice. I’m the kind if guy who wants to sit in a greasy spoon and think, “Gee, should I have the T-bone steak or the jumbo rack of barbecued ribs with the side order of gravy fries?” I want high cholesterol. I want to eat bacon, butter and buckets of cheese, okay? I want to smoke a Cuban cigar the size of Cincinnati in a non-smoking section. I wanna run through the streets naked with green Jello all over my body reading Playboy magazine. Why? Because I suddenly might feel the need to. Okay, pal? I’ve seen the future, you know what it is? It’s a 47-year-old virgin sittin’ around in his beige pajamas, drinking a banana-broccoli shake singing, “I’m an Oscar-Meyer Wiener.”
– Edgar Friendly, 2032

In 1993, the cinematic masterpiece, “Demolition Man” made some predictions about what life might be like in the future. It didn’t occur to 27-years-younger me just how accurate those predictions would be… without further adieu, here’s 27 things I learned from watching Demolition Man:

  1. If you’re short on toilet paper, just violate the verbal morality statute!
  2. If you live in a socialist utopia, homeless people will steal all your food
  3. Taco Bell will be the only restaurant to survive the Franchise Wars
  4. John Spartan doesn’t know how to use the Three Sea Shells (I could see where that might be confusing)
  5. Burning buildings are a good indicator that bad guys are nearby
  6. Police are no longer equipped to handle this level of violence

    Behind me is Simon Phoenix’s lair in what appears to be a mostly peaceful protest.
  7. We shouldn’t ask where the meat comes from…
  8. Rat burgers aren’t bad…
  9. In fact, you should be out there hunting rats instead of begging for vegan meat-alternatives (you can thank me later)
  10. Don’t face-time naked unless you’re sure you are calling the right number
  11. Commercials will infiltrate every popular media. Today you can pay to opt out, tomorrow it will be compulsory, and you’ll learn to like it!
  12. Social distancing stops the spread of STDs, the hunka-chunka and other recreational activities
  13. Sandra Bullock enjoys VR sex (presumably with hot anime girls, but will make an exception for John Spartan)
  14. In the future, all meetings will be video conference screens staring at other video conference screens
  15. Wait a minute, this is the future, where are all the phaser guns?
  16. Cars drive themselves (into walls, people and oncoming traffic)
  17. You are an incredibly sensitive man, who inspires joy-joy feelings in all those around you
  18. In the future, there is no more sarcasm
  19. Accusing the savior of your city of being in league with a multi-murder-death-killer is rude
  20. Sewers smell like biscuits ‘n gravy
  21. To catch a multiple murder-death-killer, you just wait around for him to kill another person so you’ll know exactly where to pounce!
  22. John Spartan likes the Chief’s plan
  23. Cocteau reminds Wesley Snipes of an Evil Mr. Rogers
  24. Sylvester Stallone is neither a blow-up-the-bad-guy-with-a-happy-grin-he-man type nor a moody-troubled-past-gunslinger-who-only-draws-when-he-must type
  25. I forgot to say, “Simon Says!”
  26. When you come out of cryo-prison, the first thing you’ll want to do is knit
  27. You can’t take away people’s right to be assholes!