Category: Things I Learned

Mapping Memories

The Land of Confusion

Life was pretty confusing for me as a kid in Sand Land. I have very few memories from that time; I barely spoke the language (though I could read and write), and, as I often couldn’t understand what was going on around me, I spent much of my childhood in a world of my own imagination. We moved around a lot, and so my treasured childhood possessions often ended up in lost luggage or abandoned, leaving nothing to remind me of that time…

But a few memories stand out in my mind: Frozen Suntop Juice boxes with collectible stickers, warm, U-shaped za’atar rolls they served for lunch, and a mysterious, trapezoidal concrete building I liked to climb.

“Can’t you see this is a land of confusion?”
– Genesis, 1986

A Few Words About a Mysterious Trapazoidal Structure…

I don’t recall what the structure was used for; it might have been concrete bleachers, bathrooms, or a storage building. It was made of solid concrete, which wasn’t particularly remarkable at the time and place, but what was noteworthy about it was its sloping sides. They looked something like this:

I recall some details, such as it being adjacent to the outdoor basketball court, and that you could see the dirt soccer fields and jogging track from it. Having poor proprioception, I couldn’t swear to direction or orientation – the sun always hung oppressively in the sky with recess being in the middle of the day, and it was always dry and dusty.

I didn’t play basketball, wasn’t very good at soccer, and wasn’t particularly social, so I usually looked for ways to spend my time by myself. On a whim, I decided to try to climb the sides of the building. My first few attempts failed, but I worked out that with a running start, as long as I maintained my momentum, I could sprint most of the way up, catch the lip of the roof with my fingers, and pull myself up the rest of the way.

I don’t know why this memory has stuck with me all this time, but as the years marched on, I began to wonder just how accurate it was. After waking up one morning thinking about it, I decided to look into it…

Putting Together the Pieces

I knew the city’s name, but hadn’t realized until I looked closely at the map that it was divided into an old part of town and a new industrial city, built only a few years before my family’s arrival in the early 80s. I have other fond memories of my black BMX bike, and my father would sometimes drive us down to the long, concrete promenade that ran parallel to the ocean.

We lived in a new subdivision, and every house looked much like the rest, so finding a particular neighborhood was out of the question. Though how many elementary schools might there be, given that some were for expats, and the one I went to was for nationals, and was a boys’ school (though most aspects of life in that part of the world are segregated).

After an aerial search on Google Earth, I eventually located what I think was the school. According to the scalebar, 90 pixels represented approximately 20 feet, which, if true, is a remarkable resolution of ~0.067 meters/pixel or about 6.7cm/pixel. So I measured a known object (passenger sedan) for scale, and sure enough, the dimensions worked out to be about 2.66″ per pixel, which is remarkably good!

After carefully reviewing large areas of the map, I finally found what I was looking for:

The details loosely align with my memory; however, I recall there were two soccer fields (side by side), both dirt, not grass (which was rare and very expensive at the time). If you wind back the clock to 2006 or  earlier, you can see that my recollection was accurate (i.e., dirt soccer fields):

The more recent image seems to have a scale of approximately 2.7″ per pixel, which is remarkably good. This would give the mystery building a footprint of approximately 80′ long by 40′ wide.

Filling in the Blanks

The names of both the district and the elementary school were also familiar to me after reading them, as well as other secondary details, such as the thoroughfare, named for the King whose visage appeared on the local currency at the time.

All that to say that I was as reasonably sure that this was indeed the location I spent many recesses, sipping an orange Suntop and daydreaming before being thrown back into the endless boredom of the classroom. The only thing I can liken it to is the Adults in a Charlie Brown cartoon, if Charlie only understood about 25% of what was being said…

Vindication, However Limited

Although I tried to find pictures of the grounds, most outdoor shots featured the soccer field and faced west (away from the structure/basketball court), so I suppose I’ll just have to be happy with what I found. It’s quite remarkable when you think about it in its entirety:

  • The structure still existed 40 years later
  • Sufficiently detailed satellite photos were available and [publicly] accessible
  • The names of the district, the school, and the thoroughfares were familiar to me, once I’d read them
  • The memory turned out to be true, not some invention of my overactive imagination…

For instance, one of my childhood friends who had a similar ancestry to mine used to make up stories about how Kermit the Frog would sneak into your bedroom at night and shove needles up your butt, then collect your diarrhea in a glass jar (yes, really), which was accompanied by the song of the same name.

It’s fair to say that I had a very strange childhood…

Life is Harder for Some People

I don’t have many friends, but I try to look out for the ones I do. Most of my life has been an uphill struggle, and while the top of the mountain isn’t as tall as the dreams of my youth, it has a pleasant view, and I can see myself being happy here for a very long time (if I let myself be). It’s lonely up here, though, and as much as I’d like to bring my friends with me. My work often feels like I’m saving the world, yet I cannot save my friends from themselves…

“Hey, hey, I saved the world today!
…And everybody’s happy now,
The bad thing’s gone away!
And everybody’s happy now,
The good thing’s here to stay!”
– Eurythmics, I Saved the World Today

It seems that life is just harder for some people, even for simple things like keeping a job or even an appointment. They mean well, but have proven time and again to be utterly unreliable. I’ve given this problem a lot of thought, trying to understand why some people make it, and others don’t. What follows are my reflections on this…

Safety Nets

About 20 years ago, I was completing the last year of my undergrad. I’d quit my internship for my first big-boy job, working for a local telephone division in enterprise support. I’d get up around 7 or 8 pm, eat something, then head to the office to start my shift at 10 pm. I’d work until 7 am, drive 40 minutes to school for my 8 am capstone courses, then on to my second job working at the library, and finally, home sometime early afternoon to try to sleep, then do it all over again the next day.

I did this because I had to support my wife and myself. There were no safety nets, and no one to turn to for help. My mother and father separated when I was 10, my eldest brother left home when I was 13, and my parents officially divorced when I was 15. I wasn’t particularly close to my other siblings, and I left home the first chance I got, and never looked back. I had to learn self-reliance because I had no choice. I had no one else to look to but myself. I made a lot of mistakes, but I learned from them.

On the other end of the spectrum, I’ve had smart, capable friends in their late 20s, even 30s or 40s, who couldn’t keep a job at a fast-food restaurant for more than 2-3 months at a time, let alone pursue any career. Most of them lived with a parent, sibling, or friend. Hell, I’ve taken in many friends to help them get back on their feet, and it almost always ended the friendship. Easy come, easy go, I suppose… people tend to take things for granted when they don’t have to struggle for them.

They give themselves permission to fail, reasoning that someone will always be there to help them. They may not be proud of it, but that blow to their pride isn’t a sufficient deterrent, or they just refuse to accept responsibility…

It’s Always Someone (or Something) Else’s Fault

A common trait among my friends who suffer from this is a tendency to deflect responsibility onto someone or something else… This is normal for children, but I expect better from grown-ass men…

Yes, sometimes, somebody might have it in for you. Yes, the odds aren’t in your favor, and things are harder than they have to be, but that’s life! The trick is to accept the hand you’ve been dealt, and make the most of it! But what does that look like?

For me, it was turtling up, buckling down, and making do with what I had for years on end. I didn’t go out. I lived modestly. I didn’t take vacations. I didn’t travel. I stayed at home, and my computer was my sole source of entertainment. But not these guys!

I have a friend we’ll call “Cap’n Fazoli”. He had aspirations of doing contractor work as a side hustle and needed a work truck. Around here, that shouldn’t cost more than $3-5k if you know what to look for. It doesn’t have to look good; it just needs to run.

Instead, he found his “Dream Truck” (a late-70s show vehicle) and paid about $10,000 for it (borrowed from his parents, of course). It wasn’t long before the cracks started to show (oil leaks, wiring problems, etc.. It became apparent that it would need a lot of work and was never intended to be a daily driver, let alone a proper work truck.

Now he’s saddled with a $400/month payment (about a quarter of his paycheck). He complains about money trouble but continues to spend cash he doesn’t have on things like guns (bought an $800 pistol), going out to eat, and frequent vacations, even though he hasn’t been in his job long enough to have PTO to use.

Fazoli blames his wife, who, admittedly, he should never have married. She’s mentally unstable and suffers from frequent crash-outs. These episodes seem to be limited to her interactions with him (and other social situations like work), leading me to believe that this is how she’s learned to manipulate him into getting her way…

I have to remind myself that he alone is responsible for his own situation, and he alone has the power to change it. All I can do is try to be there for him when he needs someone to talk to, and encourage him to work it out for himself.

I did manage to get him a job working for a municipal government, so if he can stick with it for 5-10+ years, he’ll have a nice safety net. He’s just now finished his 6-month probationary period, so I suppose we’ll just have to wait and see.

Some People Aren’t Ready for Help

“It is impossible for anyone to be responsible for another person’s behavior. I spoke of myself as ‘responsible’ for this group; that was verbal shorthand. The most I can do, or you, or any leader-is to encourage each one to be responsible for himself.”
– Robert A. Heinlein, Farnham’s Freehold, 1964

The last point/realization is the most devastating: Some people aren’t going to make it, and there’s nothing you can do to help them. Porkbun was one of them. Porkbun was a big, friendly doofus, touched with the ’tism. Now that I think about it, conversations with him were a lot like conversations with generative AI; he was overly eager, enthusiastic, could repeat facts he’d learned, but utterly dependent on being told what to do and how to do it. No imagination.

There came an opportunity at my side hustle to bring on someone to handle the low-hanging fruit. They didn’t have to be particularly bright, and the position wasn’t well-paid, but it was just perfect for someone who needed help breaking into the industry. I arranged a call with the CEO, and everything went well, but then he had to go and shoot himself in the foot.

I made the mistake of having a side channel conversation with him in Discord, which he took out of context and shared with his mother. Mother Porkbun then insisted the whole thing was a scam, which utterly baffled me. I spent about an hour on the phone with him, explaining that, for that to be true, it would have been a long con to put Victor Lustig to shame!

I patiently explained that, over the course of several years, I had helped him with job applications, reviewed job postings with him and explained the particulars, helped him with his resume, and even hosted his website, which was intended to be a portfolio of his work that he could share with prospective employers.

It was then that I realized that I was not dealing with a 28-year-old man, but rather a child – incapable of making his own decisions. So I rescinded the offer, citing that I didn’t think he was ready, and withdrew all personal association with him.

I asked if he had any interest in keeping his website, and although he’d only logged in 7 times over the 3 years I’d hosted it for him, he insisted he did, so I backed it up and helped him transfer it to his own provider. With that, I washed my hands of him.

I don’t blame Porkbun – he couldn’t help what he was. The fault lay with me for not recognizing his limitations. One day, I’ll learn to mind my own goddamn business…

Murdered for Wrongthink

I Just Can’t…

I tried. I really tried to imagine someone I didn’t know personally, but strongly disagreed with [politically]. Then I tried to imagine gloating over their murder, and I just couldn’t do it. I can’t understand why people, the left in particular,  think it’s socially acceptable to celebrate the murder of a political opponent, guilty only of having a difference of opinion.

I didn’t particularly like Charlie Kirk. His videos always felt like he was punching down. He went to campuses, and engaged over-educated, Adoral-addled retards, then posting these interlocutional encounters on YouBoob with masturclickbator titles like, “CHARLIE KIRK DESTOOOOOOYS SOME DUMB A$$HOLE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!11”

These fuckers didn’t stand a chance – he knew their arguments better than they did… But what they lacked in debating skills and intellect, they made up for in sheer numbers. It takes a lot of balls to face down a crowd of hostile ideologues – ask me how I know? This might be why I have such a strong distrust and hatred of large gatherings…

It’s a Different World Now

I feel fortunate that I was an adult before social media became a thing. I think back to the most embarrassing moments in my young life, and feel very fortunate that none of them were immortalized on the internet… I’m further grateful that I can distinguish between internet memes and reality, but many young people today can’t. To them, the morality of murder depends solely on the ethnicity and sexual orientations of those involved – traits I couldn’t give two shits about…

“…you know that color does not matter to me. I want to know other things about a man. Is his word good? Does he meet his obligations? Does he do honest work? Is he brave? Will he stand up and be counted?” – Robert Heinlein, Farnham’s Freehold (1964)

Color doesn’t matter to me, either. It can’t! I’m a fucken half-breed myself, and don’t fit in anywhere! An unrepentant, life-long misfit who has finally reached an age and level of success where I proudly extend my middle finger and proclaim a cathartic, “Fuck you!” to people who bother me. But I don’t want to change them, and I don’t demand that anyone think the way I do, or believe what I believe, and would certainly never murder someone for voicing a contrary view!

It’s early days yet, and from what I’ve read, the asshole who did this used a Mauser 18 Savanna, chambered in .30-06. The irony is that the shooter, who is purportedly ‘anti-fascist’, would choose a modern Mauser rifle. Yep! The same manufacturer who armed the Third Reich… Then again, the world has never been short on walking contradictions…

“I’m a man without conviction.
I’m a man who doesn’t know –
How to sell a contradiction.
You come and go, you come and go.”
– Culture Club, Karma Chameleon (1983)

Resilience

After moping around the Tree of Woe for a few days, I’ve come to the conclusion that what these Stalinistic shit-heels lack is resilience – their fragile little egos can’t stand to be disagreed with, and believe that the world must change to suit them. I know better – the world is what it is, and before you can change it, you have to understand it, and perhaps I never will… This is why I’ve elected instead to carve out my little nook and live content in my own life and leave everyone else the hell alone to live theirs…

Idle Hands

I had lunch today with some old college buddies. Our politics run the gamut from moderate left to moderate right, and everything in between. But through all of this, we found humor and camaraderie in the Library and the pub down the road. We drank to the solemn memories of those who passed, and to bright futures we dreamt of all those years ago, just now coming to fruition.

I never understood the phrase “Idle hands are the Devil’s workshop” until now, or the more modern turn of phrase “unemployed behavior.”

It seems to me that many of the World’s sorrows are sewn by those who have nothing better to do…

“If your heart is good and weary,
Thank the Lord that you’re not a bum!
You got a job, and you’re not a bum!
You’re in love, and you’re not a bum!
But you could be,
Pretty quickly,
You could easily become a bum!
If your money flies way,
If you lose part of your brain!
But you’ve not lost everything now,
So go ahead and stand up tall and be proud!”
– “The Real” Brad Neely, America Now – Topic: Morale (2009)

I’ve been out of work before. There have been times in my life when I didn’t have a place to stay and didn’t know where my next meal would come from. I’ve excavated dirt by hand and hauled concrete for $6.00 an hour. I’ve waited tables and washed dishes. I’ve called strangers on the phone and talked them into changing their long-distance phone plans (remember when that was a thing?), and sold timeshare pitches disguised as inexpensive minivacations…

Eventually, I took the plunge and borrowed a metric ass-load of money for school, and spent it on an education from a vocational school as a working adult in my mid-20s. I never had the ‘college’ experience with dorms, parties, and so on…  Likewise, no one ever came to my school to debate anyone – the most excitement we ever had was a Library employee who no-showed on his third week, and we had to escort his drug dealers off campus when they came to pick up his check #TrueStory.

But it kept me busy! At first, I worked part-time at the Library, which was enough to cover insurance and gas money. Then I landed an internship. The semester before graduation, I was hired full-time to work overnight at a major telco, troubleshooting connectivity issues on enterprise circuits.

Point being, I was always too goddamn busy to get into trouble! I didn’t have time to sit around, getting my dick sucked by a tranny in a furry costume while plotting to ‘unalive’ (as the young people say) my political rivals on Discord…

Besides, Jim never did make good on his threat to ship me a helper primate, although sending me a Thai Ladyboy dressed up as one would have tracked with his sense of humor…

If You Can’t Say Anything Nice…

As I write this, a couple of contractors are redoing my guest bathroom. One of them has made some offhand remarks about “the crazy guy in the white house.”

This didn’t upset me, and I only mention it to illustrate a point: The difference between the side I sympathize with and the one that murdered Charlie is that the latter would have…

  • Fired him on the spot
  • Accused him of being a Nazi and/or Fascist
  • Taken to social media to dox/publicly shame him/get him ‘cancelled’
  • Maybe even assaulted him (because it’s okay to punch Nazis)
  • Nazis are anyone you happen to disagree with at a given moment…

The prior (like me) would have ignored the comment (as I did). I don’t have to like what he said, and certainly don’t have to agree with it, but I do hold sacred his right to say it. I don’t agree with his opinions, but many others do, and for all I know, maybe I’m the asshole?

Left or Wright?

The other day, I found a cartoon created by Colin Wright to describe his experience as a “center-left liberal”:

This mirrors my experience, and the irony isn’t lost on me… I have a feeling things will get worse before they get better, but I sure hope they get better in my lifetime… If not, well, I suppose I’m used to my hermetic lifestyle!

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?

TikTok-O-War

Here We Go Again…

All I ever knew about TikTok was that it was the app of choice for Adderall-popping zoomers to post their lipsyncing videos, videos reacting to lipsyncing videos, or videos of themselves “dancing” while lipsyncing to reaction videos.

These activities don’t interest me, and I’m especially not interested in sharing my mobile device’s photos and videos, browsing history, IMEI, Public IP, or any other information with the CCP.

So you can imagine my surprise when I received an email notification letting me know that my username had changed to [Redacted]x69. Of course, it would end in “x69”! What could be cooler and edgier than that?

Seeing how someone so thoughtfully decided to create an account for me using MY email address…again… I decided to log on. I didn’t remember the password, so I just used that handy little “Forgot Password” link and got myself logged back into my account.

It Just Keeps Getting Worse…

Unfortunately, it wouldn’t let me delete my account as I couldn’t provide the One-Time Password (OTP), which went to a mobile number I didn’t have access to. So, I decided to see what I could do on my account in the meantime!

To my surprise (and annoyance), someone had taken the time to upload many selfie lipsync videos. As I mentioned earlier, this isn’t my bag, so it all had to go. I could change some settings, such as changing the account from private to public, setting screen time limits for myself, and changing my profile pic and description. Here’s what I chose as my TikTok avatar, my “TikTokitar,” if you will:


This picture comes from a video of a talented barber with a penchant for setting his customers’ (victims?) hair on fire… I chose this because his facial expressions captured the gestalt and indescribable angst I feel when someone uses my email address to sign up for services because they can’t be bothered to spend 2-3 minutes creating their own.

I then uploaded things I was interested in, such as stock videos of grocery store meat, seafood, and fish markets.

Push Me, Shove You! Oh Yeah, Says Who?

Unfortunately, the fun didn’t last, and my anonymous benefactor decided to remove these videos and set my account back to ‘private.’ Although I could not unlink their mobile number from my account, I could (and did) change the associated email address.

For whatever reason, email address change OTPs go to the registered email address instead of the account’s linked phone number. Problem solved!

Epilogue

A few days later, I tried logging on but found my account locked! It was probably the result of an impersonation report I filed a few days earlier. Just as well, I was getting tired of this TikTok Tug-O-War… Tik-Tug-O-War?

The good news is that my email address is no longer associated with that (or any) TikTok account anymore, so that’s a win in my book!

Being Less of a Porker: Part 1

The Good Ol’ Days

“I guess there is no situation so bad but what it can get worse.”
– Robert Heinlein, Farham’s Freehold, 1964

Hindsight is 20/20, we never appreciate what we have until we don’t, and there is no situation so bad but what it can get worse.

I’d been slim for almost half my life. As a kid, I worried about being too skinny.  I wanted to be stronger, more flexible, and muscular, but I was otherwise happy with my appearance (if not my wardrobe, haircut, or severe acne).

I remember maturing during the summer just before I started high school. I was extremely active, full of hormones, and starting to develop muscles I never knew I had (coupled with hair in funny places)…

We lived in the country, which suited me well as I hated cities. I learned how to build fences, pound nails, swing an axe, butcher a chicken, and a thousand other things children today (including man-children) will never experience.

After high school, I did a lot of construction, and the hard work was great for my body. Even though I often felt ashamed of having to do manual labor (I was too smart to dig ditches for a living), I was in the best shape of my life. At 18, I looked and felt better than ever, but this didn’t last (does anything?)…

The End of an Era

Within the span of three years, a high-stress, sedentary desk job coupled with too much fast and processed food (e.g., McDonald’s and Hamburger Helper, I gained about 60 lbs. I remember looking in the mirror one day and realizing I was out of shape… My belly protruded, and I had to buy new clothes as my old ones no longer fit me. I knew I needed to do something about this, but I didn’t know what, so I did nothing. Analysis paralysis!

Lesson 1: Have a Plan, and Follow It!

A few years later, I got a fresh start, returned to school, and tried working out and walking daily. I didn’t know anything about exercise or nutrition. Smartphones were still a few years off, and I didn’t understand the basic laws of thermogoddamnics.

I was cast adrift in a sea of confusion. I had no plan, no structure, and no way to know if I was on track or what (if any) progress I was making… In time, I grew bored of this and stopped doing it…

Lesson 2: Weight Loss is Mostly Diet

“You can’t outrun a fork…” – Some guy on the internet

Fast-forward a few years to my first major breakthrough in early 2012. That year, I lost about 30 lbs in three months by eating mail-order cardboard food – you know, the one on late-night television that claims you can “eat great and still lose weight!”

This worked because it restricted my caloric intake to roughly ~1200-1500 calories daily. The food was preservative-laden cardboard, barely palatable, and got old quickly.

In addition to this, I worked out regularly with my Wii, starting with the training program for Wii Sports and then upgrading to Wii Fit. When I started, I could barely keep up and would be pouring with sweat by the time I finished.

Over several weeks, I became more adept at the exercises and eventually outgrew the flimsy resistance bands it came with. I bought a second-hand elliptical machine and started using that instead.

I was doing fine until I was rear-ended on my commute to work, which put the kibosh on my exercise. At the time, I’d gotten down to about 194 lbs. Unable to exercise due to being in physical therapy and having gotten sick of eating disgusting food, I eventually fell off the bandwagon, shooting back up to the 225-230 range by the end of the year.

Although exercise helped, diet and nutrition had the biggest impact on my weight loss (~80%).

Lesson 3: Remove Temptations 

In December 2012, I flew to Sand Land to look for my next career opportunity. I ended up getting stuck there for reasons I won’t go into, and it would be seven months before I could return home in mid-2013.

At first, my living situation was such that I did not have ready access to food and sometimes missed meals altogether. Other times, I didn’t like the food I was offered and refused to eat it (e.g., boiled, bone-in chicken wings with overcooked macaroni – shit I wouldn’t even feed to my dogs). This went on for about 4 or 5 months, but I eventually was able to strike out on my own.

Almost every weekend, I went camping and hiking in the desert. Soon, I found myself fasting during the day to keep up with provincial norms and lost more weight as a consequence.

In the evenings, I cooked for myself, ate wholesome meals, and did not keep soda, cookies, candy, or other junk food in the house. As a result, I wasn’t tempted to eat it. I allowed myself a little juice but always cut it with 80% tap water since it was too hard to drink on its own (it reminded me of well water, but worse).

I once again dropped below 200 lbs. Eventually, my significant other joined me, and I found myself giving in to things that made her more comfortable but were bad for me. Instead of cooking a meal and eating leftovers for the next 3-4 days, we’d go out to eat to get her out of the house. When we went shopping, she’d ask for pastries, cookies, and other sweets, and I’d give in…

Lesson 4: Your Diet Must Be Sustainable!

Within three years, the suits I bought when I was 195 lbs. no longer fit, and I’d ballooned up to the mid-240 lbs again. After watching a movie about an Aussie who lost a lot of weight drinking juice, I made the mistake of giving that a try, and after a day and a half of this, I wanted to snuff it.

It was a terrible experience. Losing weight is like making a diamond. It takes time and pressure; there are no shortcuts.

Lesson 5: Don’t Overdo It

About a year later, I returned home. Travel always stresses me out and wears me down, and I was about 235 lbs again when I started counting calories and lifting free weights using the 5×5 StrongLifts method.

This consists of two exercise routines:

  1. Five sets of 5 Squats and Overhead Press, 5 Deadlifts
  2. Five sets of 5 Squats, Bench Presses, and Bentover Rows

Between the two, I saw some progress, and after about 6 or 7 weeks, I’d dropped about 10 lbs and lost 3″ off my waist, but I had stalled in the mid-220s.

Eventually, I managed to throw my back out, putting an end to my training. Again, my progress was stalled, followed predictably by gaining it all back.

Lesson 6: Don’t Do Fad Diets!

After a year out of work, I eventually obtained gainful employment again. Once again, I started feeling the aches and pains of being overweight, and once again, I decided to do something stupid…

“…If you work for a living, why do you kill yourself working? Heh. Potatoes. You’ve got to be poor to eat potatoes. Really poor…I’m rich, but I’m lonely.” – Tuco Ramirez

I recall reading somewhere that Penn Jillette and others lost significant weight on a “mono diet,” eating nothing but potatoes. I decided to give this a try. I lasted longer than my foray into juicing but ended with the same result; I never felt satiated and was sick of eating the same thing daily…

About two and a half weeks in, I developed a terrible craving for meat. I finally broke down and started eating steak at the behest of my dear friend Jim, and I felt a lot better. I tried to eat mostly meat and vegetables but wasn’t tracking how much of each, and while I had some short-term losses, it was not sustainable as I didn’t have a plan (see lesson 1).

My Most Recent Relapse

I’ve been overweight for the better part of 24 years, and while I’ve dipped below 200 lbs a few times, I’ve always gained it back and then some. As I started my new job last year, I weighed in at an all-time high of about 267. The prior year, I worked three jobs, ate out every day, and didn’t track my weight, caloric intake, or anything else, as my sole focus was getting out of debt.

Out of the blue, an old friend made me aware of a job opening. It didn’t pay amazingly well, but it had a pension, and for the first time in my life, I finally had a way out of the corporate rat race. I applied, was interviewed, got an offer, rejected it, got a better offer, and started my new job in January of 2023.

No one I work with eats out for lunch, and there are no good places to eat nearby. Consequently, I stopped eating lunch, thus cutting out about 700-1,000 calories a day from my diet without changing anything else (and getting to leave work an hour early).

I started off strong and averaged about ~1.6 lbs. of weight loss a week, but I wasn’t getting enough protein, and while I was losing weight, I eventually dropped to 215 lbs. and plateaued.

Almost a year ago, on June 1, 2023, while cooking up a London broil without a shirt on, some of the grease splattered on my chest when I went to flip it. The following day, while on my evening walk, the skin on my chest started to burn, and when I got home, I noticed some red marks across my sternum and left ribs – I assumed this was the burn, and it would go away after a day or so, it didn’t.

The pain got to be so unbearable that I ended up going to an emergency clinic and was diagnosed with shingles. Within three days, the red patches blistered and scabbed over. Any movement was painful during this time, so I stopped exercising. I let myself break discipline and go back to eating out at night because I was in too much pain to cook for myself…

At the beginning of July 2023, I completed my first 180 days at work and was allowed to work remotely 95% of the time; being home all day meant that I had ready access to food and could graze all day, and I did. I had a difficult professional certification I needed to complete by the end of the year, and the stress of the encroaching deadline took my attention away from taking care of myself.

Over the remainder of 2023, I gained about half the weight I’d lost, and by April 2024, I was back in the mid-250s. Once again, I decided to climb back on the wagon. I must implement the lessons I learned to ensure success and codify good habits, which brings me to…

Lesson 7: Stay the Course

“Let’s say you are fat. I was fat! So I talk about it. Go ahead and say something, motherfucker, I was fat, too! And it was hard as fuck every  fuckin’ day to get up. I know what it feels like, when you roll your fat ass out of bed and all you want is some fucken damn cinnamon buns and shit. And fuckin’ chocolate milkshake. I know what it is…I know exactly what it is…but I can’t want it more than you.

And so many people just want it the easy way, I’m sorry man, it’s not! So what they start to do is they build this narrative of, ‘It’s okay,’ when their narative should be, ‘You need to fuckin’ work harder. You need to fuckin’ discipline your mind better.’

We need to help more than just saying it’s okay. It’s okay that you’re not willing to fuckin’ help yourself out, it’s not okay! It’s not okay! It’s not acceptable. Even though it’s your life, if that’s acceptable, it’s unacceptable. And there’s a lot of people in this world, me included, that if I accepted that, I wouldn’t be anywhere.”
– David Goggins

Nothing worthwhile is ever accomplished without sacrifice. So, you decided to take the first step. Great! Good for you. Stand up and take a bow, that is, if you can bend at the waist without lower back pain… never mind, you’ve started.

Starting is easy! I should know. I’ve done it dozens of times, and there’s nothing hard about it. The hard part is staying the course, not making excuses, not quitting when shit happens, not getting complacent with yourself, and saying, “This is good enough.”

“I’ll be happy when…”

The question is, why? Why is this time going to be different? Why can’t I stay disciplined for more than 3-6 months? Why do I keep giving up short of my goals? Why!?

I’ve been asking myself that a lot lately. The only answer I can offer is a lack of discipline and accountability. I cannot abdicate that to anyone else. Even If I had a personal trainer, coach, or personal David Goggins bot who lived with me and followed me around 24/7/365 to bully and cajole me into doing the right things, I have to want it for myself.

I should also have a backup plan. Shit doesn’t always go the way we want it to, and I need to come to grips with the fact that no matter how perfectly I try to stick to my plan, things can and WILL happen. Motherfuckin’ Mr. Murphy will see to that. But I can’t let this derail all the hard work I’m putting in daily. Instead, I need to be prepared to make adjustments and do whatever it is I can do. Not let myself get complacent, not let myself succumb to self-pity and give up short of my goals.

If I can’t exercise, I will stick to eating right. If I have to go out to eat, I will make sensible choices.

[Another] Fresh Start

  • Eating Clean: First, I threw away my junk food and started buying meat, vegetables, eggs, plain yogurt, cottage cheese, and fruit every week. More importantly, NO FUCKEN SUGAR (and all its permutations).
  • Tracking Caloric Intake: After a week of eating clean, I started tracking my caloric intake again, and now I plan out my meals in advance, every day, and stick to the plan. Moreover, I am paying close attention to my macros, prioritizing protein (at least 170-200g).
  • Daily Walks: I got off my ass and resumed my daily 3-mile walk (8 pm, ~1 hour in duration) – it was excruciating, but I made it. I did it again the next night, the next night, and the next…  as of today, I’m on the 29th consecutive day of walking 3 miles a day. Last year, my longest streak was 26 days, which I beat last week. The hilly walk includes long, alternating inclines and declines (as much as 30%). Incorporating daily posture exercises and stretches before and after has helped a lot.
  • Intermittent Fasting: I decided to try intermittent fasting. I can comfortably do a 16-hour fast with an 8-hour eating window (2 pm to 10 pm). Provided that I eat enough protein, I tend to feel full, and while I still get hunger pangs, I find that just having a glass of water or coffee tends to alleviate that. During my window, I start with a big meal (800-1,000 calories) at 2 pm. Sometime between 4-6 pm, I’ll eat dinner, usually another 800 or so calories. My last meal is a yogurt and frozen fruit shake with some collagen peptide powder for extra protein to help recover from the walk.
  • Strength Training: This week, I will resume my 5×5 training, starting slowly and carefully so as not to overdo it. My focus will be on reps and form. I will do this three times a week in addition to my daily walks.

To be continued…

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.

Priorities

“The supreme irony of life is that hardly anyone gets out alive.”
– Robert Heinlein

“My life’s greatest aspiration isn’t to live heroically; but rather not to die in an embarrassing way.”
– Joe Jim

Although I grew up poor, I’d say I had a pretty good education…of the many things I was taught, the ones that spring to mind amidst the recent tragedies are these:

  • Sticks and stones will break my bones, but words can never hurt me.
  • Don’t play in the streets.
  • Look both ways before crossing the road.
  • The world owes you nothing.
  • Don’t show your dogs unless they’re barking.
  • Life isn’t fair.

Because of this, the chances of me getting hit by a car while attempting to block traffic on a busy highway are slim to none. It would also be virtually impossible for me to get pulled under the dolly axle of a double-trailer semi truck because I know better than to attempt to board a 40-ton moving vehicle while it’s in motion, and I can’t imagine a world where I’d be shot while illegally detaining someone at gunpoint during an unlawful gathering in the middle of the goddamn street.

This is because I have priorities. I have people who depend on me to stay alive, earn a living, keep a roof over our heads, and put food on the table.

“…We say, ‘hey now, this is America’
We got some time to kill, and we need a thrill
So we die doing the dumbest of shit…”
– Father John Misty

Perhaps if these fools had some sense of self-preservation, or failing that, some notion of their own mortality, they wouldn’t have died doing the dumbest of shit…

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.