Get Off My Lawn

by L

Two years ago, I started my breast cancer journey when I was diagnosed with stage 2B cancer. It wasn’t metastatic or anything but 12 surgeries, chemo and losing my hair and strength later, I can honestly say, I’ve come out on the other end healthy … No thanks to Susan G. Komen Foundation.

You hear everywhere that Susan G. Komen supports breast cancer research and they’re fighting for the cure. Hogwash. They’re supposed to be fighting to help women with cancer to get diagnosed and treated, as well as researching metastatic cancer, where a cure would have the most impact. Instead, they’re spending their money on PACs and organizations that have little to do with things that matter to breast cancer survivors, like partnering with handgun sellers.

I was fortunate enough to have health insurance that paid for about 80% of my treatment. I’m still working on paying off the other 20%. Nevertheless, I’m luckier than a lot of women in the same position, namely the ones who rely on most of their medical care through Planned Parenthood. Regardless of the political issues surrounding Planned Parenthood, they do provide much needed medical care for impoverished women; sometimes, the only doctors low-income women see are those at Planned Parenthood. So having those no or low-cost mammograms there were critical.

Komen has done nothing for me in my journey, despite several requests for counseling help to deal with the aftermath. They’re right on the spot, though, when they need volunteers, money or a cancer survivor to trot out when they’re in front of the press.

Sorry, Susan G. You lost my faith a long time ago. The latest shenanigans just confirm that decision.

by Soben

Now, I’m a guy, and I certainly haven’t had any experience with breast cancer anywhere in my family, so this isn’t immediately related to me, but it doesn’t mean this type of shit doesn’t annoy me.

I love breasts, and I want to see them still exist.

Recently, due to the constant nagging and pressure from anti-abortion groups (who tend to be the same ones that don’t want regulation on THEIR lives, but are fanatical about restricting OTHER people), The Komen Foundation recently pulled their funding of Planned Parenthood.

SGK’s money was put to work at Planned Parenthood for thousands of breast cancer screenings and mammogram checks, which are vital parts of what Susan G Komen’s Foundation is about. So thanks to anti-abortion groups, thousands of women are likely at higher risk of breast cancer now, without access to much needed screenings.

What particularly set me off (and got me to come here to let off steam), is that the VP of the Komen Foundation recently retweeted (and quickly retracted the RT), a message that is highly hypocritical and ignorant:

It argues that pro-abortion (which, of course, sounds worse than what it really is: pro-choice) are complaining about a cancer group as if they have no say in the matter (they’re completely unrelated subjects), but it ignores the damn fact that ANTI-ABORTION groups turned to a CANCER organization to force a decision that is completely unrelated to the organization’s goals IN THE FIRST PLACE. They did the EXACT same thing that the pro-choice groups are now pointing out and making a stand against.

SGK screwed up here. They should’ve kept supporting what they were created for (prevent breast cancer with awareness, regular screenings, and search for a cure), and not let groups that are completely unrelated to that goal intimidate them.

Stick with what you were created for, and don’t focus on anything else!

/endrant

by myerman

Okay, because it is Festivus, I will follow @imtheq’s lead and Air Some Grievances™.

1. I am disappointed to find myself constantly explaining to non-Texans why/how Rick Perry keeps getting re-elected.
2. It’s nearly 2012. No jet packs. No ray guns. No lightsabers. But we have Twitter. #aggrieved
3. I’m seriously wondering who you people are who like and/or demand 3-D movies. Can I punch you in the face?
4. The world is run by morning people. I find you distressingly disappointing. Now go get me that cup of coffee.
5. You people who say “lightening” instead of “lightning”? What the fucking fuck? Stay in school.
6. All of you folks who tweeted death threats because of #godisnotgreat trending–way to go.
7. Copious and capricious non-productive sexism. Get your shit together — this is why you’re not getting laid.
8. Any cop who tases/pepper sprays/beats a peaceful protestor, anywhere on earth: we do not forgive, we do not forget.
9. All you assholes who have given “patriot” and “patriotic” a bad name with your hijinks–you offend me to my core.
10. The constant bedwetting and uber rhetoric of both left and right. Pipe down and let’s jut talk this out, okay?
11. People who don’t pay attention to my twitter stream. What the hell? It’s all about me, okay? @technosailor
12. People who don’t put apostrophes in the right places. Jeezy Creezy.
13. Ignoramuses who actually believe there is a war on Christmas. Listen, just buy your gifts and sing your carols and STFU.
14. You people who dress up your dogs and cats and then post images on the interwebs? I hope those animals eat you.
15. Austinites. You suck at driving, okay? Seek help. Green light != tap the brakes as you approach intersection. GAH!
16. WWF pluggers. I know what you’re doing. Let’s throw down with a Scrabble board face-to-face. Twats.
17. Patrick Stewart, you haven’t aged a day since you leveled up in the 1990s. What the hell man?
18. Any fanboy geek, anywhere. Yes, yes, yes, they left out Tom Bombadil in LOTR movie. Deal.
19. Misleading headlines in blogs. Die.
20. Newt Gingrich. The worst of the 90s come back to haunt us. Feh.
21. Tebow. I don’t follow sports, but you are an egregious moron. Keep your faith to yourself, you little pimple.
22. Cialis commercials. What do sitting in bath tubs have to do with sexy time? WHAT? WHY?
23. People who say things like “it’s always the last place you look.” Of course it is! Why keep looking once I’ve found it????
24. Companies that send you SMS spam. Hunt you down with a machete.
25. Finally, you Facebook pokers. Really?

by I hate everything

Any person above the age of say, six, who spouts the term millennial needs to see a doctor. Hopefully they can get the oxygen flow restored to their brain and continue functioning if they end up getting help. But frankly, most are the social media ninjas that have double-jointed their arms to pat themselves on the back so much you’d think they’re giving themselves reach-arounds the wrong way full time these days.

‘Millennial’ is the adjective form of ‘millennium’, which as most people who’ve managed to pass elementary school should now know stands for one thousand years (that’s a one followed by three zeros, or, 1000 years). If you’re referring to a millennial person, then, you’re referring to someone who’s managed to live from before 1012 at this point. They’ve lived through the rise and fall of the Eastern Roman Empire and are still alive and kicking. Frankly I’m not sure why they’re even using the internet and working, they should have invested a little more wisely in their 200′s perhaps in order to avoid such things.

If you’re the mouth-breathing sort that enjoys saying shit like “This will appeal to the millennial crowd”, get off my lawn, before my decadial ass goes medieval on yours.

by Ben

I swear to God, if I hear one more fucking person use the term ‘all natural’ as a synonym for healthy I’m going to snap.

Plenty of natural things can kill you, like arsenic, snake venom and ebola. Just because something is natural doesn’t mean its good for you, it just means the company selling you the product knows damn well they can just put some pretty pictures on the box and jack up the price because you’re not just shopping for food, you’re shopping for an identity.

The natural world is precious and wonderful and should definitely be revered but it was not created specifically for us, its not like the entire ecosystem is conspiring in our favour and trying to come up with ways of pleasing us.

Also, this notion that tribal medicine is somehow superior to ours is just silly. Just because some tribe in Papua New rainforest uses a particular herb as a healing agent doesn’t mean its better to use than a pharmaceutical anti-inflammatory.

There is a tribe in Papua New Guinea that believes that an important rite of passage into manhood has to involve drinking the semen of your elders, I have my doubts that those guys are infallible sources of wisdom on topics as complex and dependant on modern technology as pharmacology and medicine. Get off my lawn.

by Don't Get Me Started

Just get the hell off our collective lawn, Rick Perry. Asshole.

I mean, I could write out this whole post…sending links to all the articles about misdeeds, misappropriations, mishandling and misogyny during his endless terms as Texas governor, but the net result is that I just want him to go away.

I could talk about how he claims others are treasonous, while out of the other side of the mouth he talks about Texas seceding.

I could talk about how he preaches Tea Party values while being a lifelong politician and creator of big government.

I could talk about the complete lack of support he appears to have generated for people in our state who are burning up and losing their livelihoods. He’s too busy promoting himself.

I could talk about the rumors that he is gay. With apologies to my gay friends, I sincerely hope he is and that he is outed in a BIG way.

I’m pretty sure he’s behind A&M’s move to the SEC. Good luck not getting your asses handed to you over there, Aggies.

I could talk about how he’s an entitled, self-serving, short-sighted douchebag and yet somehow he’s gaining momentum in the national polls? W.T.F.?

But no one listens. No one cares. Good hair and pointy boots seem to be all one needs to win the presidency.

Ugh. I have Perry fatigue. Gag.

by Don't Get Me Started

Dear client: I realize the customer is always right, in theory.

I also realize that part of my job as a consultant is to help you navigate the confusing ocean of business technology products out there – and to help you be more efficient and productive. But I can’t do it alone. You’ve hired me to provide a service and then refused to allow me to provide it.

My skills are better than yours.
I spend hundreds of hours learning these complex products, getting certified on them, scouring blogs and knowledgebases so that I can be as informed as possible when I make my best recommendations to you. I’m an honest person with integrity and professional pride, but I do my best to turn the other cheek when you comment that I must not know my stuff when we come across a new error message. Do you have any idea how many things can go wrong on an enterprise-level system? No one person knows everything.

It is software for business, with rules.
I get it that you want to just delete something. But the reason the system won’t let you is that this is accounting, and if you “just delete” that, you’re compromising your financial records. Neither I, nor the software, is trying to make your life more difficult here. The software not letting you do that is not the result of me trying to somehow cheat you or having lied to you about whether or not it was good software.

You’re not as smart as you think you are.
Nor is the guy you sat next to in first-class. Despite how new his iPad is, he is NOT more qualified than I am to tell you what you need, especially since I’ve been working with you for years. I’m sure his briefcase was spiffy-looking, but what he told you is actually impossible and you telling me it “should” work is not going to change that.

Your failure to understand the process does not equate to me not explaining it. You can’t ignore the whole discovery and project planning process and then be pissed off when things don’t look the way you imagined them. Although, that’s exactly what you’ve done.

Don’t think you’re not going to pay me for my time. I’ve got the contract and all the documentation to back me up – so write me a check and get the hell off my lawn.

by myerman

Attention all of you people who participate in planking: you’re not that funny. Or clever. Or postmodernist. Or whatever you think while you’re doing it.

Don’t know what planking is? Oh, you lucky sonofabitch. Here, let me infect your mind. Plankers are those people who lie face down in unusual places (for example, a railing on a balcony that’s say, 100 feet off the ground) and then have photos of themselves posted on the interwebs. Of course, it’s always better if you survive the ordeal, which Acton Beale of Australia neglected to do. Survive, I mean.

Apparently if you get really drunk and do this kind of stuff, you end up dying and/or maiming yourself. Ditto if you find yourself in a “competitive planking” environment  (I fucking CAN NOT believe that those words just rattled themselves onto this blog) — I guess there are some ineffable rules of free-market planking, pushing plankers to bigger and bigger risks to get the most extreme, err, face-down posture or something.

You’d think these people would do something useful, like plank in front of public buildings or the train station so I’d have some place to park my bike, but alas, no.

I won’t include any “traditional” images of plankers, there are plenty of those in the story linked above, or you can google “planking” to get the general idea. Essentially, it’s a bunch of bored people sharing their “hobby” with a bunch of other people who have the attention span of a stunned fly. Wait, I just categorized 90% of humanity on the Internet.

However, there is one extremely hilarious animated GIF of a planker doing it wrong, and I share it with you only because I myself cannot stop watching it and laughing my ass off.

by noahvail

Mensa means "table" in Latin. What kind of a stupid fucking name is that?

Q: How do you know if someone is in Mensa?
A: Don’t worry; they’ll tell you.

If any organization encapsulates Groucho Marx’s joke about not joining any club that would have him as a member it has got to be Mensa, the so-called “High IQ Society.”

Many years ago, I went with my then-girlfriend to a Mensa testing facility. In retrospect, this was a terrible idea on many levels, one of which being the ensuing awkwardness should one of us pass and the other fail.

Taking the test was my idea. I was a wannabe journalist and we went under the ruse that it would give me something to write about. But really, I wanted to know. I wanted third-party validation that I was smart. And I wanted to show off in front of my girlfriend. These were bad reasons for trying to gain admission to Mensa, but I can’t think of any better ones.

At the testing facility we were given not one, not two, but three separate IQ tests. One involved a lot of visualization of shapes turned in different directions, and another contained a section in which one of the testers read a long story and then we were quizzed on how much we remembered from it. (This part I am sure I failed miserably.)

According to their website Mensa is open to “persons who have attained a score within the upper two percent of the general population on an approved intelligence test that has been properly administered and supervised.” So it should have been no surprise that we took three different tests, because it triples the odds that someone will pass. And the more people who pass, the more members Mensa acquires. (Can you imagine a similar methodology for obtaining a driver’s license, or a concealed-carry permit? “Don’t like this test? Take another one!”)

A few weeks later we got the results in the mail. We had each passed one of the three tests. We were smart! Mensa told us so! Included with the results were a membership form and a return-address envelope so you could send your payment for the first year’s dues.

My girlfriend was smarter than me. She saw the results and said “meh.”

I wrote the check.

There was no need to do this other than sheer narcissism. I had my story, if I wanted it. But I wanted more. I wanted to be a Mensa member. I wanted the bragging rights.

<digression>
In sixth grade I took an IQ test. I marginally qualified as “gifted.” The next year I started going two days a week with my “gifted” cohort to a different school, where we did, I dunno, “gifted”-type stuff. Then I self-destructed and scraped through junior high and high school with a lot of Ds and Fs and almost dropped out in 11th grade. Yeah, I was that jerkweed.

Now I’m a grownup and I have kids, and one of the parenting tips that has stuck with me is not to over-praise your kids about how smart they are. When kids grow up believing they are smarter than everyone else, they frequently think they don’t need to work very hard at anything. In school, work, and life I learned to do the bare minimum required to get by. This is why I tell my kids they are dumb and need to work harder. (Kidding.)

Point is, being smart only gets you so far. It’s what you do with those smarts that counts. I have not invented anything. I have not produced any great works of art. If I died today my only legacy would be two darling children, and as we all know, it doesn’t take a genius to breed.
</digression>

So after sending my check I received my Mensa membership card and the newsletter, which contained brain-teasers I was incapable of completing and information about local Mensa meetups (or, since this was the 90s, “meetings”). It might have been to my detriment that I never attended any of the meetings, and defenders of Mensa will probably say this is the main reason for joining: To meet like-minded people. Because, you know, interacting with cretins with a sub-130 IQ can be so frustrating.

I too want to surround myself with smart people. I’m just not sure I want to surround myself with smart people whose only common ground is being narcissistic enough to take some silly test(s) and pay dues to an organization to validate how smart they are.

And I’m pretty sure that is the only point of Mensa.

by Slavetofashion

I’ve lived in Austin my whole life with the exception of the first 18 months (when I was in San Antonio getting born and stuff). I tried going to college in Dallas which lasted all of 5 months before I hightailed it back to my hometown. I love it here- it’s fun, it’s home…. it’s a blueberry in a bowl of tomato soup. But what drives me insane are all of the faux Austinites.

You know the ones right? The ones who’ve been here five years, but they’re a total native. They go to ACL like, every single year. They don’t own a single Bob Schneider album, but they’ll got to his show because he’s soooooo Austin. They gush over every new trailer park eatery because it’s so quirky and cool and Austin. They look at you like you’re insane for not biking to SoCo for every single First Thursday. Basically, those people who want to shame you for being so un-Austin for not buying local only, grocery shopping somewhere other than Whole Foods or Wheatsville, and for drinking something other than a local beer.

Look sunshine, this is my city. I’ve been here since Liberty Lunch was a place to see 311 and since Southpark Meadows was the home of Lilith Fair and Dave Matthews Band not JC Penny’s and Steak ‘N Shake. I don’t have anything to prove to you. I’m just as happy going to a chain restaurant and shopping at the mall as I am eating at Hyde Park Bar & Grill and shopping at Lovely Boutique.

I’m truly happy that you are enjoying all of the great stuff Austin has to offer, and I’m even happy to share my city with you. But do not roll your eyes when I say I hate SXSW. Don’t gush to me over seeing Leslie. And for the love of sweet baby Jesus, don’t try and tell me where to get the best tacos. SXSW sucks, I’ve seen Leslie more times than I can count, and the best tacos are from my grandma’s kitchen. So shut the hell up and get off my lawn!!