Okay, it's 2005. Why do people still hitchhike?!? I mean, do you really think someone is going to pick you up? And if they do pick you up, then they're probably crazier than you! I mean, this is not the 60's dude. And it's always dudes too, never woman. Know why? IT'S TOO DANGEROUS - DUH!

And every hitchhiker looks exactly alike - old dirty clothes, nasty hair that looks like it hasn't been washed in a month, and a long scraggly beard. Do you think I'm going to pick you up?!? Even if you were the Pope, I don't want that stink in my car.

You don't have a single friend that can pick you up and take you somewhere? If you're that big of an asshole, I don't want you to ride with me either.  ¶ 7/03/2005

  Yes, it's been a long time since I posted anything or updated this website. So what. Get over it.

I went to the grocery store the other day get a few essential items... you know, bread, cheese, beer... and I wound up on the cereal aisle. I began to notice that cereal companies don't put prizes in the boxes like they once did. I remember when I was kid, you got all kinds of cool crap out of the cereal box. Yes, it was crap, but it also was cool. I remember the little plastic balloon car. You ripped open gashes on your fingers trying to tear the little plastic pieces apart, but you finally got the car and both axels seperated from one another and snapped together. Then you got a balloon that you put on the back of the car, blew the balloon up, and let it go on the kitchen floor. The force of the air from the balloon would propel the car across the kitchen at light speed for HOURS of fun!! Okay, it's more like the balloon would push the car a couple of feet as it wobbled across the kitchen floor for minutes of fun, but it sure sold a lot of cereal! Raise your hand if you remember the submarine that you put baking soda in causing it to rise and sink in the tub. I had one. Was it a PlayStation2 ultra-realistic submarine simulation? No, but it was cool. In fact, as a kid I remember that I didn't pick out cereal by it's nutrition content. You must be kidding, we had cereal called Super Sugar Crisps. I think it might have said on the box "GET YOUR KID HOPPED UP ON SUGAR TO START HIS DAY AS FAST AS POSSIBLE!!" Okay, maybe it didn't, but I think that was the implied message. No, when I was a kid, I picked my cereals strictly browsing the included prizes. Best prize of the week was my cereal of choice.

I weep for a whole generation of children who will pick their cereal by... dare I say... taste. What a pity.  ¶ 5/11/2004

  Okay, I admit it. I am a Coke-aholic. As I was growing up, we had lots of Coke around. I remember when I was a kid, probably late '70's or early 80's, my mom worked downtown on the square. I grew up in a small southern town where there is actually a courthouse in the middle of town, and a "square" of roads and buildings around it. My mother worked downtown, and I remember going over to the courthouse and getting a Coke from the drink machine in the stair well. They were a quarter. Yes, twenty-five American cents. I also remember that being the last place that I ever got Cokes for a quarter. But it wasn't just any Coke either, it was the little eight ounce glass bottles. Now I'm no Coke expert by any stretch of the imagination, but I swear to you, Coke that comes out of glass bottles just tastes better than Coke in those stupid plastic bottles. It's almost as if it's a different formula than what they put in the plastic bottles. Maybe it is, how do I know?!? I just know that I would walk a mile to get one of those little eight ounce bottles instead of having to drink out of those plastic ones - I don't care how they try to shape them and make them feel like the old bottles. They try to trick you with that "Coke Bottle Shape" that they make those plastic ones out of, but it's not the same. What's the difference? I don't know. Maybe some of the carbonation leaks out through the plastic. Maybe it's a different formula. Maybe some guy at the factory pees in the plastic ones. Hell, I don't know, maybe it's all in my head, but I'll still take the little glass ones any day of the week.  ¶ 7/15/2003

  Waving. It's such a simple thing. No one waves anymore. I travel quite a few miles down the highway every day and on the weekends, and hardly anyone waves at me. When I was a kid, I remember my grandfather driving through town and throwing up his hand to every person as they drove past, and they threw their hand up to him. Granted, my grandfather lived in the same town for forty years, so he probably knew everyone that went past, but I've never forgotten his hand raising up off the steering wheel in a "how are ya?" gesture, and the other drivers giving it back. Nowadays, it seems that people are too self-involved to even notice that I'm waving at them... either that or road rage. Someone walking on the side of the road? Throw up my hand and wave! More times than not they don't wave back, and if I look in my rearview mirror, they are staring at me as if I've committed some crime and they have to be an eyewitness. Just plain old common courtesy seems to be dying. Maybe it's the 9/11 attacks that have made everyone more calloused and look others suspiciously. Maybe it's just that we are raising a selfish generation that doesn't have time to wave. Or maybe the sun's in their eyes and they didn't see me.

So let's see if we can get some common courtesy going. Hold a door for a lady. Wave at a stranger on the highway. Say hello to everyone at work. Say something nice. It'll only hurt for a little while.  ¶ 5/06/2003

  A strange topic for today, but it's been milling around in the back of my head. I went out to eat last night, and as I got ready to pay the bill, I had to make sure that I had enough cash to leave a tip. That got me to thinking about the tip. Y'know, it would be okay if the tip were a bonus that I am leaving for the waiter or waitress for a job well done. It occurs to me that the wait staff gets paid less than minimum wage, and that I'm expected to pick up the rest. That doesn't really seem fair does it?!? That's a lot of pressure for me! Now I have to decide just how good a job this person did, and how much I'm going to pay them. I understand the whole "incentive to be a good waiter or waitress" concept, but hey, shouldn't they get a bonus for doing great service?!? As it is they can get paid two or three bucks below minimum wage, and if I leave them a two or three dollar tip, I'm not really rewarding them for doing a great job, I'm just getting them up to minimum wage level! And how much to leave? Oh, this is a never ending debate in my brain. Fifteen percent? No, that doesn't look like enough, I'll leave another couple of dollars. DOH! Now that's too much, they weren't that good! I'll just take a dollar of that back. DOH! Now it doesn't look like enough, they weren't that bad! And no matter what I leave, I always feel guilty that I didn't leave enough.

So if you wait a table on me, I promise I have put way too much thought into how much tip I leave you. If you think it's too little, I'm sorry, I'm not too good with math. If you think it's too much, maybe it's finally a little bonus for you!  ¶ 4/17/2003

  Let me address something that is a constant source of irritation for me in my everyday life - Walmart. People love Walmart. People defend Walmart like it's their best friend. But Walmart's not your best friend... oh no. It's quite the opposite. Walmart doesn't care about you. You know you're going to shop at Walmart, and what's worse, Walmart knows you're going to shop at Walmart, so why should they care about you? After all, you're going to shop there anyway aren't you?

Have you been to one of the misnamed "Super" Walmarts? It's like a city in there. I'm convinced there are people living in tents in the Sporting Goods section. Their plan is to come into a town and try their very best to run everyone else in town out of business, and they do that by offering everything under the dang sun in one of those "Super" Walmarts. Clothes, electronics, food, eyes, hair, bakery, gas, tires... it goes on and on. Have you gone into one of these "Super" Walmarts and tried to find one specific small item? It's like going to Europe and trying to find one specific person. It's about that easy.

Back when Walmart was first moving across the country, they were a great store. They sold it, and if something went wrong, you could take it back to them. They would exchange it or give you your money back. Have you tried to return something to a Walmart lately? Even with a receipt they look at you as if you're a criminal. "Oh we KNOW you're trying to pull something over on us. We don't know what it is, but we're sure you're dishonest and trying to cheat us out of a dollar!" And that's probably the biggest problem with Walmart now - they don't trust me. To them I'm guilty of something.

Let me share my favorite example. It was the Saturday after Thanksgiving, and my mother had just bought an old surplus computer from work. She wanted to give it to friend of hers who didn't have a computer so the friend could do basic web surfing and e-mail. Since I'm the resident "computer expert," she asked me if I'd take a look at it. First problem, NO POWER CORD! She had forgotten to get the power cord, so she signed one of her checks and sent me off to town to get one from Walmart. (I'm sure many of you can see already where this story is going, but stick with me.) I found a power cord in the electronics section that would work, and went to one of the only open lanes. (Notice, Walmart has 25 checkout lanes, but only three open at any given time.) The cashier rings it up - $9.06. I write "9.06" on one line and "Nine Dollars and 06/100's" on the other line and handed it to the clerk. She looks at the check and says "I need to see your license please." Okay. After studying it intently the cashier says "umm, the name on the check doesn't match the name on the license." "No, it's my mother's check, she signed it." "Well, I'm going to have to call a CSM over" (a Customer Service Manager). Now let me say that I had $10 in my pocket (really I did), but at this point, I've boarded the train, I might as well see where it's going to go. So we wait silently for five minutes for the CSM. Her lane light flashes, going unnoticed by any CSM, and the people in the line behind me start to shuffle uncomfortably as I am now holding up their busy schedules. Finally, the CSM notices the light and comes over. Surveying the situation she asks me, "is the phone number on this check correct? I'm going to have to call and verify this." OH NO, I've been caught. That's right, this my big crime of the century... steal my mother's check book and forge her name to buy a power cord for NINE DOLLARS AND SIX CENTS! Let me assure you of one thing, if I'm going to pull a job, it's not going to be a nine dollar power cord! At this point I've about had it, so I just tell the CSM, "forget it, give me the check back." I give the cashier a ten dollar bill, take the power cord, and curse all the way through the parking lot. And I'm sure the CSM spent the rest of the day telling everyone how she helped foil a crime that day, when all she really did was make me want to go somewhere else... ANYWHERE ELSE... and buy it next time, even if I have to pay more for it.

And that's what I am doing. I am protesting Walmart with my wallet. Whatever I buy, I may pay a little more for it, but for some reason I don't feel nearly as dirty after buying it when I don't buy it from Walmart.  ¶ 4/11/2003