2018 is the year of the dog according to China. For me, itâs the year Iâve officially lost my mind.
I stay up roughly every night contemplating what the perfect (available) domain name would be. Iâve compiled a list of several (hundred) and probably bought most all of them. For some reason, I canât be content with something as simple as say, my name. Iâve conVinced myself that no matter what, I need a good domain name if I expect people to visit my site. After all, whatâs in a domain, if not a name?
So far here are a few of the ones Iâve come up with:
lonelyfart.com - so I can be owner of a lonely fart, dot com.
verygoodbud.com - itâs open to interpretation as to what this site could be about, but itâs sure to be full of content that will expand your mind.
crackpipedreams.com - presumably what most people think when they hear of someone still chasing their dreams past the age of 30.
rainydayrider.com - I thought of this while riding my motorcycle in a torrential downpour for 3 hours one day last summer. I like that the word âriderâ can also signify a contract. Since then, Iâve come to realize it could be an ode to Bob Dylan too, which makes me like it more.
existentialrain.com - I just came up with this while writing my previous paragraph. I feel like this has potential.
vinningmethod.com - A motivational blog from the point of view of a loser who succeeds by not caring.
fantasypieland.com - I came up with this years ago and itâs still probably my favorite, but first I need to open a bakery.
bubbaridesagain.com - I had this t-shirt with this saying on it when I was a kid. On the back it had some animal riding a bike or something. I loved that shirt.
cryquitdie.com - an uplifting website about the circle of life.
cryshitdie.com - pretty much the same idea but maybe more cynical.
ijustknews.com - a community of shared âhow we metâ stories that should make most readers want to throw up.
reallysadnews.com - tragic news written in a sardonic way with the aim of drawing a laugh like water from a rock.
idreamofvinnie.com - because Iâm vinnie and when I hit the bottle, youâve got to rub me the right way. Yes, I just partially quoted Christina Aguilera lyrics and made a reference to a TV show that probably 90% of teenagers arenât aware ever existed.
nightvulture.com - because people call me vulture and I stay up all night contemplating this crap. A google search revealed itâs also a GI Joe character, which I never would have known-- Teenant Mutant Ninja Turtles and Ghostbusters were my thang.
The list goes on, but you can now see why Iâve settled on vinimalism.com. I need to get rid of all the dumb things I donât need in my life, including my thoughts, so I can focus on whatâs really important: doing nothing.
The other option is calling this vinimalist.com, sort of like The Economist. If you have any opinion, let me know.
Really, I just change my domain name every year anyway to avoid having to pay $14.99 to renew, so it probably doesnât matter what I call this. By the new year, Iâll be on to something else and never build attribution, which is a word I would have never known if not for working a short time in the god awful world of corporate branding.
Vinimalism: how to get by in life by doing as little as possible.
This way of life should be clarified. Itâs not that a Vinimalist seeks to do absolutely nothing. That would be boring and unaligned with Vinimalist values. Rather, to be Vinimalist means to do as little unwanted or unfulfilling activities as possible. Because that would be wasteful to the human spiritâwhich is not a tenant of Vinimalism.
In other words, a Vinimalist seeks to cut all the bullshit out of life.
Like, for example, if their fiance requests they watch her dadâs dog over the weekend, and he doesnât want to, whatâs a Vinimalist to do? On top of this watching his own dog. Which can also be assumed. Even if heâs got nothing better to do, a Vinimalist wonât pass on the bliss brought on by shirking responsibility.
Iâll tell you what he doesnât do: he doesnât watch either dog.
Instead, he brings his dog to her dadâs place and leaves him there so they can watch each other. Then he goes to the bar and watches the football game by himself in peace. 5 beers later he returns to the dogs to discover one is missing. It appears the bigger dog has ingested the smaller one. One problem solved.
But now heâs got a new one: explaining to his fiance what happened to their dog.*
Some might think the road ends there, but it doesnât. The solution is simple: you blame your missing dog on the fact that you were responsible for watching both dogs that weekend. When in actuality, you arenât even responsible enough to watch one. Now your dogâs gone because she made you in charge of two. No one can contend with that.
On your watch, a dog was eaten. Had you only had to watch one dog, then presumably no dogs would have been eaten. Case closed.
Some might also think this example is far fetched, but unless youâve ever lived in the shoes of the Dalai Vinimalist, then you know only they can truly know the truth of the truths that lie within their lies.
Todayâs Vinimal Thought for the Day: If all dogs go to heaven, do all humans rot in hell?Â
*No dogs were neglected on this particular weekend. Having had to watch them created the inspiration for this post. Deep-rooted contempt can be harnessed in the form of creativity, which is generally the cause most forms of art.
I made a cup of coffee on my own today for the first time in months. I was so set on crafting the perfect cup. I was going to make a real cup, not this French press half-ass shit my girlfriend has been doing lately where I wind up with a bunch of grinds at the bottom of my cup. Iâm going to turn on a machine and brew a pot.
I pulled the ancient Krups contraption out to the edge of the counter, sneezed from the dust, and plugged it in. First things first: Finding a filter. I opened the cabinet. âHmmmâŠâ I opened the lower cabinet near the sink with all the disposable utensils and plates. I opened the lazy Susan and spun both shelves around. Nothing. My frustration began to build.
âMaybe if the bitch wasnât so lazy Iâd have a cup by nowââ Susan that is, not the one I live with who was still currently in bed.
I went back to the machine and examined the holder for the filter again. âOhâitâs detachable and washable. I.e. reusable. Okay, crisis averted.â
Next step: Finding coffee.
I searched the cabinet for a high-quality Hawaiian blend or something I expected we ought to have since, you know, we go places and buy coffee. I started to daydream and appreciate life. âThings arenât that bad. Look, a container of sprinkles. And flour. Oh, and candles. Isnât it nice having someone around who cares enough to consider other peopleâs birthdays? Iâm a very lucky guy.â After finding another container of sprinkles, and yet another, my mood changed.
âWhere the fuck is the coffee?â I muttered, ignoring the giant red plastic container in the left-hand corner of the second shelf with contents of which I was familiar but refused to settle for. I pushed unnecessary items aside; a box of popcorn, jars of vanilla extract and honey and maple syrup, an individually wrapped biscotti that had expiredâthe three containers of sprinklesâbut found nothing that resembled a bean or even a grind.
â15 fucking tea boxes, and Iâm stuck with fucking Folgers!â I grabbed the behemoth red tub and slammed it on the counter. âThis is bullshit.â
Then I calmed down. âItâs alright. Folgers will do. At least itâs coffee.â
I read the instructions: 1 Serving (6 fl oz) - 1 Tablespoon.
After picking up a teaspoon from the drawer, I abruptly put it back and grabbed a tablespoon. I opened the container to reveal a partially buried measuring cup. On its side, a set of equally spaced red lines counted up to 2 tablespoons. âSweet. Now I can make a perfectly proportioned cup of coffee!â I thought to myself.
I felt optimistic again. I even decided to make a second cup, for her.
In my excitement, I poured exactly 2 tablespoons in the filter and nearly turned it on before remembering water is necessary to make coffee. I fetched another larger measuring cup with lines that allocated for 8 ounces, or one whole cup. I poured water in the cup to the top line and dumped it in the pot, twice.
And then it dawned on me this would be equivalent to 16 ouncesâ4 ounces higher than the ratio Folgers scientifically determined to be the proper measurement to brew 2 tablespoons of their coffee, and thus not the optimal blend required. I attempted to resolve the matter swiftly and immediately: By pouring 1 more tablespoon of coffee in the filter.
âHmmm⊠that would put me at 18 ounces of coffee. But these pots never seem to brew enough as it is.â I dumped another 4 ounces of water in.
âShit. Now Iâm at 20 ounces of water to 18 ounces of coffee. I think I need another tablespoon.â
âFuckânow that puts me at 24! A cup is 8 ouncesâwhy the fuck is Folgers computing in 6-ounce increments anyway???â
Eventually, I gave up and just pressed brew. Iâm still not sure what my end ratio wasâIâm pretty sure it was somewhere in the range of ânot giving a shitâ to âfuck this shit.â When the pot finished brewing, I walked over to retrieve a cup when I noticed a white porcelain canister sitting beside it. On the side, below the lid, in elegantly painted calligraphy was the word: âCoffee.â
I drank half the cup. The rest wound up getting cold while I wrote this.
Note: A real posting I came across in my career search.
ACCOUNTS RECEIVABLE REP
Job Description
POSITION PURPOSE:
Responsible for the processing, recording, and billing of debts owed to the company.
SPECIFIC JOB KNOWLEDGE, SKILLS AND ABILITIES
The individual must possess the following knowledge, skills and abilities and be able to explain and demonstrate that he or she can perform the essential functions of the job, with or without reasonable accommodation, using some other combination of knowledge, skills, and abilities.
âą Must be able to speak, read, write and understand the primary language(s) used in the workplace.
âą Most work tasks are performed indoors. Temperature is moderate and controlled by building environmental systems.
âą Must be able to sit at a desk for up to 8 hours per day. Walking and standing are occasionally required.
âą Must be able to lift up to 15 lbs. occasionally.
âą Requires grasping, writing, standing, sitting, walking, repetitive motions, bending, climbing, listening and hearing ability and visual acuity.
âą Talking and hearing occur continuously in the process of communicating with customers, supervisors and subordinates.
âą Vision occurs continuously with the most common visual functions being those of near vision and depth perception.
âą Ability to work primarily with fingers to pick, pinch, type and carry out substantial movements (motions) of the wrists and hands as well.
âą Requires manual dexterity to use and operate all necessary equipment.
âą Must have finger dexterity to be able to operate office equipment such as computers, printers, 10-key adding machine, electric typewriter, multi-line touch tone phone, filing cabinets, FAX machines, photocopiers, dolly and other office equipment as needed.
February 12th, 2016
Re: The incredible opportunity to work for your company
To Whom It May Concern:
Recently, I came across the opening for Accounts Receivable Rep at your company. I have 31+ years experience of sitting, exceptional pinching skills, and have mastered the ability to displace rage, all of which should make me an ideal candidate for the position.
Currently, I hold an equally unfulfilling job in a different capacity that has similar demeaning qualities for a slightly worse company. I spend several hours a day fake smiling to people who otherwise ask me âwhatâs wrong?â and have not yet told anyone to go fuck him or herself. Occasionally, I contemplate jumping out the window. These examples should all demonstrate my advanced level of muscle control and ability to âtalk and hear continuously in the process of communicating with customers, supervisors and subordinates,â as per the job description.
Furthermore, working for your company appeals to me because I know by now that life has a silver lining: dreams are complete bullshit and whoever tells you to follow them probably already gave up on their own, and is merely instilling a false sense of hope because the only satisfaction they get out of life anymore themselves is the idea of knowing the naĂŻve optimism of a child will one day be crushed. If you hire me, I assure you my spirit was destroyed as soon as I stopped doing most drugs after college.
Although I am not recovering from a recent spinal injury (which would better qualify me for the job), I may be in the near future if I continue to work at my current company. Assuming my body survives the impact, I will get back to you. I will also do my best to ensure all fingers remain intact so I can pick, pinch, type and carry out substantial movements like clawing out your eyeballs should we ever be blessed with the apocalypse and you are the last person with whom I am stuck on Earth.
But enough about me; I would love to hear more about you, the pointless work you do, and how much you pretend to yourself your existence matters in this world. I have enclosed my resume for your neglect until someone who vaguely knows me mentions my name so we can have a possible interview, whereby you can then inform me that I would not succeed at this job anyway. I am available in person or over the phone, whichever you prefer, though email would actually be best if you have absolutely no intention of hiring me. I assume you will disregard this though, and still proceed to waste my time under the façade of ânetworkingâ.
I am almost completely, entirely, not at all the slightest bit remotely excited about this opportunity, and definitely not looking forward to following up with you, but will give you the satisfaction of saying I am because I have no other choice.
All the best,
Vincent V.
P.S. â If considered, please confirm that lunch may be eaten at my desk through a straw everydayâI would not want to miss any valuable work time wheeling myself to the cafeteria.
Today, my light bulb died. He was 27 months and 4 days old when he passed away.
âIâll always remember the way he lit up the room when you came in. Just full of perpetual brightness and warmth,â remarked one imaginary guest who has never stepped foot in my house.
âItâs like I was in a dark place, but then you gave me the clarity to see everything around me and show me the way man,â I profoundly stated in a drunken stupor the other night.
âWhen are you going to stop writing about light bulbs and get a real job?â comments my mother.
With his passing, a light in my heart has been extinguished.
This time the spotlightâs on you, Larâyou will be missed. My days will forever be a whole lot dimmer without you.
Larry âthe Light Bulbâ Lumens
A service will be held Wednesday, at 11pm out front of my apartment. Please arrive promptly to ensure a spot on the sidewalk. Garbage bags containing empty beer bottles and shredded credit card statements will be reserved for the first few guests in attendance.
Picture lighting courtesy of Sally Sylvania, an energy-efficient bulb with gender identity confusion. By day she is Steve, but at night her latent incandescence fully emits with the flick of a switch. She hopes her translucent experience sheds light on some of the illuminating challenges facing the LED community.
On June 24th, comedy history will be made in Hoboken. Come be a part of it. https://www.eventbrite.com/e/showboken-the-greatest-comedy-event-on-earth-tickets-17361532812 #showboken
Tonight I performed at an open mic at a bar in Jersey City Heights. A homeless man spit on me about 3 minutes into my set.
He didnât do it intentionally. He just spewed a lot of saliva from his mouth when he attempted to talk. From what I could gather, he refers to himself as âSmileyâ and was insistent that I hear the music in his headphones. In an attempt to be polite, I invited a listen as he spastically gesticulated his body to the beat in front of me. The next moment he was jamming one of his earbuds into my ear before I could even think to avoid being accosted.
It actually didnât sound bad. Kind of funky. Sounded a bit like that Stevie Wonder song in âDie Hardâ in Argyleâs limo when Bruce Willis calls him right when Nakatomi Plaza has been taken over. You know, the one thatâs like, âSomebody shot off at the mouth and...â A Google search informed me itâs called âSkeletonsâ. Great song, check it out.
In any event, that wasnât the song, yet I hoped my feigned interest was enough to appease Smiley so he would leave me alone. Not the case, as he proceeded to interrupt the remainder of my performance, dancing obnoxiously beside me the entire time.
Eventually the crowdâs mild disapproval (and by âmildâ I mean they cheered only a little more loudly for me than him when I asked who they would rather watch perform) prompted someone to escort him to the door, just in time for my set to be over. Even as he was led out, he kept smiling, his horrid 4 snaggle-toothed grin reminding me to ask myself why I even do this.
Needless to say, I didnât really get to practice any material, but I did get this story.
I awoke Sunday morning from an awful nightmare in which I was unable to take a photo with almost the entire cast of Breaking Bad as a result of the IOS 7 update. Â I still havenât recovered.
In my dream, I had encountered the actors at the airport where apparently they all had also run into each other, so they took the opportunity to pose for a selfie that Aaron Paul took. Â While doing so, I asked if he would mind taking one of me with everyone on my phone and he enthusiastically replied, âSure.â
From here, a terrible chain of events unfolded.
I attempted to bring up the camera app, but for some reason it would not open. It kept leading me through other processes, my frustration building with opportunity fading. Â Frantically, I continued to tap the icon on my phone, praying it would just execute the correct function, their patience waning.
âAaron, Iâm sorry, for some reason itâs not working right. Can you give me another second?â
He attempted to stall everyone, but it was too late. Â Bryan Cranston stepped forward. âAaron, we donât have time for this. Â Letâs go.â
Then, the Pinkman himself looked at me, with empathy in his eyesâlike I was Gale and he was about to pull the triggerâand stated, âSorry.â
And they walked off, never to be seen again.
At this point, I would have rather been shot through the eye socket. He might as well have just called me a bitch; at least thatâs what I felt like. Â I felt more helpless and distraught over trying to operate this stupid phone than Walter watching Hank get murdered in the desert. I hurled my worthless device against the wall and broke down crying.
Why IOS7?! Â Why did you have to take this once in a lifetime opportunity away from me in an experience that completely never actually even happened to me?
But technically I would argue this is worse than if it really had; if a man canât dream, then what does he have? Â Nothing but an iPhone and his shitty reality.
In the weeks that followed in my dream (it was a long dream), I was sent into a whirlwind of crippling depression where I all I could do was recount the events of that day, wishing I could somehow go back and relive it prior to downloading the IOS7 update.
Unable to cope, I treated every friend I encountered like a therapist, gauging their opinion of the update and whether I was at fault in my experience. Â I came to find I was not completely alone in my assertions, although no one had missed an opportunity like mine, nor had cried in relation to the update.
Of the interactions I had, I recall relentlessly bitching to a buddy of mine until he agreed merely to shut me up. Which is pretty much how issues I raise play out in real life: I complain, friend provides rationale, and I continue complaining until they just agree the world is, in fact, against me.
âDude, this update sucks man! I canât believe how shitty it is! I canât do anything on it! How the fuck do you get an app to force close now?!! Iâm holding down the icon and itâs not doing anything!!!â
âYou just swipe the window up. Â Itâs actually easier.â
âWell, what the fuck? Â Itâs still stupid as hell. Â And whatâs with all the bright colors and cartoonish looking graphics and shit? Â The phone looks crappy now.â
âThe redesign is supposedly to increase functionality.â
âI read that it supposedly makes people dizzy and now I see what they are talking about. Â I feel like Iâm going to throw up. Â Are they just trying to be a like Droid or something? Â This phone sucks.â
âSo get a Samsung like me and stop complaining.â
âSee! Â I knew you hated them too!â
(brief pause)
âDude, whatâs this girlâs problem? Â I just texted her and all she wrote back was âheyâ. Â Iâm probably the most awesome guy she will ever get, and she just writes âheyâ? Â What kind of response is that? Â Is she retarded?â
ââŠâ
If youâre an acquaintance, things play out a little different: I complain, you disagree, and the cycle continues until you decide to stop associating with me at the bar. Â We donât usually get to the point of me complaining about girls, unless I decide to lead with that, which usually I do. Â And youâre the girl at the bar that Iâm complaining to about.
âSo remember like 3 weeks ago while we were out at dinner I was talking to you and then your eyes shifted mid conversation, as if something distracted you?  I mean, you looked back at me right away, but for a brief moment I felt like didnât have your full attention⊠I was just wondering if you remember what it was?
ââŠâ
âMaybe it was nothingâŠI mean, Iâm sure it wasnât anything.  I donât even know why I am asking you thisâŠSeriously, forget it.  Itâs stupid.â
(rolls eyes)
âNo, see, obviously that was directed towards meâI didnât mean like that. Â I meant I thought maybe something else caught your attention for a second that prevented you from being completely interested in what I had to say, but obviously you are because you are still hanging out with me right now. Â I knew I shouldnât have brought this up.â
(looking bored and around the room)
âNo, listen, I know Iâm awesome. Â Iâm one of the most confident guys you will ever meet, believe me. Â This is clearly evidenced by the fact that I donât refrain from asking ridiculously loaded questions that demonstrate what a neurotic lunatic I am for overanalyzing a trivial matter that means nothing in the grand scheme of things, yet I would dwell upon for the entire length of time it took for me to eventually bring it to your attention, because from the moment it occurred I convinced myself it was not worth saying anything since it would potentially make you think I am crazy, but I was unable to refrain from at this point due to my anxiety building up and the intoxicated feelings I have from the alcohol and every time I look at you, and my belief that in order for two people to build anything that that is truly genuine and real they have to be completely honest and open with each other at all times, even if it means sometimes looking foolish or vulnerable or delusional in front of that person, which is why I am telling you this right now rather than later.â
ââŠuhâŠcan I go now?â
ââŠâ
Where was I?
Without its once pioneering and stubborn leader at its helm, Apple is currently in a state of dysfunction. Â Sure, the company continues to operate, but letâs face facts: the products it has put out since the loss of Steve Jobs have done little to remind us why we were so addicted to their brand in the first place.
As Google continues to innovate and create technology with advanced functionality that I am too lazy to learn, there exists the opportunity for Apple to do nothing and remain loved for itâs simple interface design and commands.
Yet, this is where they are beginning to lose their place.
It seems they are abandoning their trademark crystal blue meth and attempting to replace it with Google heroin. I have been a loyal customer to meth all these years, but I am not about to move up to heroin. Â Especially inferior heroin.
My point is, I donât have the time, patience, discipline, or desire to start learning a more complicated process to get my fix. I shouldnât have to google âhow to use an iPhoneâ. Iâm not looking to start injecting my social life with a needle. Just let me snort or smoke your stuff, Iâm completely content with the mediocre high your technology allows my life to give me.
So please, cut the shit Apple and just stick to the same drug youâve been giving us all these years. We meth heads are all counting on you.
Breaking Bad Apples: A Comparison Between Management Styles Of Walter White & Steve Jobs
One of the greatest shows ever will end tonight, and with it goes one of the greatest characters we will ever see displayed cinematically: Walter White.
As the final episode nears, I cannot help but assume Walt dies, and this realization has brought on some uncanny comparisons to another figure we lost in relatively recent times: Steve Jobs.
One fictionalized, the other real, there is no denying that Mr. White and Mr. Jobs were two of the most powerful and influential business tycoons of our time. Â Sure, their areas of expertise may vary a bit; one dealt meth, the other not meth. Â But whether youâre a drug kingpin or tech lynchpin, the one single fundamental principle that underlies your strategy will always remain the same: increase your bottom line.
Which has led me to consider what other factors might be the same for these two âpolar oppositeâ businessmen; perhaps their management styles?  HmmmâŠI smell something cookingâŠis it crystal meth?  Or do I smell a Heisenberg/Jobs face-off?
After a full measure analysis, here is how the âBreaking Bad Assâ & âMac Daddyâ would measure up if we compared apples to apples:
1. Both created products that drew mass amounts of addicts
Mmmm, pop rocks.
What is this? The nano? I donât even know at this point, but it was blue, so deal with it.
2. Both had cancer
âWhy canât you be more like Uncle Hank?â
âWhy canât you be more like Jesse?â
âPancreatic cancer? Thereâs an app for thatâoh shit, thereâs not.â
3. Both began operations in small, unfavorable settings and grew an empire
âOh Jesse, Iâm wearing nothing but an apron and my underwear right now⊠Come on in!â
âShutup Mom & Dad! How many times do I have to tell you Iâm not working on my car?! Iâm doing important stuff in here. Iâm gonna be somebodyâoh wait, youâre not my real Mom & Dad? Then fuck off!â
4. Both brought death upon anyone who dared cross them
âI would have choked you with my cock had your mouth not been full of vomit--eewwww.â
Heisenberg kill count: 150+ (includes Janeâs father and all flight passengers)
âHeya, fuck ah you ah Meester Jobs! We don wan no work for you no more. We sick of literarry working for apple a day. If you give us ah no raise, we gon-ah jump off this here-ah building!â
âGo ahead, jump! See if I care! Thereâs only a billion more of you I can get to do my work for free!â
Jobs kill count: 14 recorded deaths (also real people)
5. Both started businesses they were forced to leave
âThose bastards at Gray Matter stole my idea? Oh, weâll see who has the last laugh. Weâll seeâŠok class, so whoâs familiar with chemical combustion? Iâm just going to burn the school down now.â
âYou think you can survive without me??! Didnât you learn your lesson the first time? This time Iâm not coming back!â
6. Both took advantage of handicapped people for their own self-betterment
âIâm just a poor old man who dings a bell and shits himself. And you want to strap a bomb to my chair becauseâŠ?â
âHey, I may park illegally in handicapped spaces, but I own Apple so Iâm entitled, no? Oh wait, I have cancer. You can fuck off now.â
7. Both had to deal with more wealthy, highly respected businessmen who stole their ideas and threatened their existence
El Pollo Hermano, muy crispy.
âCome at me Steve! Iâve done time bro! Youâre micro-SOFT bitch!â
(^^^^^^Ummmm, side note⊠Does anyone else find it insanely coincidental where Bill Gates served time in this mug shot????? Iâm actually starting to reconsider my investigation into all of this.)
8. Both strove for perfection and refused to compromise integrity for an inferior product
âJesse! Thereâs been a contamination! His name is Gale! I can tell by staring at this flyâs genitals!â
âI donât need this stuff. And I donât need you. I donât need anything. Except this. And thatâs the only thing I need is this. Just this rug⊠and this coffee cup. The rug and the coffee cup and thatâs all I need⊠and this stereo. The rug, the coffee cup, and the stereo, and thatâs all I need⊠and these magazines. The rug, and these magazines, and the coffee cup, and the stereo⊠And this lamp. The rug, this coffee cup, and the stereo, and the lamp, and thatâs all I need.â
9. Both had sidekicks who continually screwed up their business model
âIâm going to sell my own meth out of my RV! How do you like that bitch?!â
âIâm responsible for the death of both your girlfriends.â
âWe should put out the iPhone 5C and vastly change the interface with the IOS7 update. People will love it!â
âStop it asshole, you are ruining my company.â
10. Both were extremely charismatic and manipulative speakers
(^Clearly one of the crazy ones Jobs was referring to)
11. Both became products of their own environment.Â
They started with the best of intentions, but eventually were seen as potentially evil, power hungry monstersâŠand we still canât help but wonder, were they?
âSky-lerrrrrr, you bitch! Itâs mah 52nd birffffday! Bacon and ehhh-uggs!â
âHere Mrs. Hill, I got you this apple. Enjoy it; one day I will own you.â
12. Both fathered children they refused to accept as their own
âHey Dad, you think youâre the only one whose alter ego leads a completely different life? Why else do you think I need a balanced breakfast every morning?â
âUm? I gave birth to you in 1978⊠shit, really??? I was on a lot of acid back then.â
13. Both used simple design as a trademark to enhance marketability
Crystal. Blue. Persuasion.
14. Just look at them:
âSay my name.â
âRead my book. Or see my movie. Either way, I am more influential than you will ever be.â
In this tough economy, weâve had to spend more conservatively and come up with creative methods towards saving, some of those being related to simple everyday tasks. Â Of these tasks, one is hygiene, particularly keeping yourself well-kempt. Â Of course, I still recommend showering and changing your underwear on a regular basis, but there are some things we can get away with doing less frequently. Â One of them is getting your haircut.
Haircuts are expensive. Â They can range anywhere between $10 to $16.95. Â If you go to a salon, they can cost as much as $4000 and your dignity. Â Then, in the hood you have âbarbaâ shops and these are rather pricey too. Â The owners must be charging a premium for creating such fashionable looks as âthe helmetâ and âthe chinstrapâ. Â Or maybe they just have really high insurance rates due to allowing Puerto Ricans to handle straight razors around your neck.
There is always the option to cut your own hair, but God knows you will wind up looking like Forrest Gump or Lloyd Christmas. Â Take my word on thisâdonât try it. Â I know, from personal experience. Â And multiple failed dates.
Sure, youâll be thinking, âOh yeah, Iâll âclean upâ a little before we meet up.â Â Then 15 buzzer swipes later, youâre sitting at dinner going, âHey, whyâs sheâs staring at me like I have just gotten a lobotomy? Shit, I wish I had before I decided to go through with this.â
Here is my advice; itâs pretty simple: stop getting your hair cut so often. Â It might seem obvious enough, but for some of you it wonât be. Â Iâll walk into the barber and see you in the waiting chairâlooking like you just got out of the barberâs chairâfidgeting, and grimacing at the barber while heâs tending to his current customer. Â Itâs your third time this month! Â Whatâs up with your obsession? Â Is he giving you free handjobs under the cape? Â I bet you love when he puts his hot cream on your neck. Â Followed by the barbasol massage.
I never understood the anticipation of having those damned scissors near your head. Â You could be seated with a potential psychopath. Â But no, his nameâs Jerry and he graduated from high school 50 years ago, and you trust him. Â If youâre lucky, he might have even gone on to barber school!
Chances are more likely his traditional Italian father thought he was too much of a prissy for the mob and all these years rage has been building inside of him to the point that you get him on the day he snaps. Â And now youâve got scissors jammed in your forehead, all because you increased your odds of impending doom by going 42 times a year. Â Do you really want that?
I donât know, maybe itâs the sheer sound of the blades slicing through your hair that keeps you coming back like a Pavlov dog. Â Donât worry, the talc powder isnât going anywhere. Â You can always get your fix. Â Just donât ask Jerry about his father.
Start by weening yourself off slowly. Â Instead of going once every two hours, try stretching it to like four weeks. Â I promise, youâll still be alive by the end of it. Â You might even find yourself engaging in some more enjoyable activities that take your mind off letting your hair growâlike having a woman run her fingers through and pull the shit out of it while sheâs riding you nasty in bed, her eyes rolled so far back in her head she doesnât even give a damn that you have hair for any reason other than the fact that itâs something to hold onto.
Now, if that image still isnât enough to convince you to stop the cuttingâor your girlfriend insists you always do it missionary because sheâs a piece of shitâthen move on to your wrists. Â Kidding. Â I would never endorse suicide, on a public blog. Â (Seriously, donât do it. Â It might get infected if you donât succeed.)
All joking aside, you might still be wondering, âVin, how on earth could I possibly take such risks with my personal image? I canât having people looking at me like Iâm some kind of hippie or something.â Â And I donât blame youânobody wants that.
I have a solution for this too. Â And it actually prolongs the length of time between haircuts even more, just in case long hair is what youâre going for, ya dirty hippie.
Solution 2: grow your sideburns and trim them every once in a while. By doing so, you will give off the false bravado of getting haircuts. Â And while youâre faking babes out with this technique, youâll have more cash in your wallet it to fake âem out with being charming at dinner.
Unless you are horrible with rhetoric. Â Then, you can just sit home all night writing at your computer, hidden behind the cloak of a blog that attempts to dupe others into thinking youâre âdeepâ and âinsightfulâ, when really youâre too much of stuttering buffoon to be smooth when it matters. Â But at least also happens to have great hair, am I right, ladies?
Donât believe my trimming sideburns technique works? Â Hereâs evidenceâI havenât cut my hair since June. Â Just look at my before and after pics!
In our endless quest for attention itâs no longer as much a concern to be smart as it is to look smart. I am basing this theory entirely on analysis of myself, which shows you how stupid and ignorant I am.
For example, I want to be a writer and sound intelligent, but instead I consider the easier task of posting a picture of myself reading a book so I simply look intelligent. And then everyone thinks, âHey, this guy must be smart. Look at him, heâs reading a book.â And now Iâve accomplished the notion of being smart without actually having to do much of anything, other than pressing a button on my Iphone, if that counts as being smart. I donât know, some people may think it does.
This is, in fact, how I fool people with my college degrees.
âHey, look at this guy. Heâs got 2 degrees. He must be smart.â
No, noâIâm not. Thatâs just a matter of perception. I got the 2 degrees so you would think I am smart. Society made it a requirement in order for me to get a job. And yet I still wonder why this has often been such a difficult task.
âHi. I just invested about $200,000 in my future. Well, not I, per se. More so my parents did. And then I got a full-ride to grad school by making the university think they were making a wise investment in me. So no, technically I didnât invest anything in my future. Absolutely nothing. I have no future. But I still somehow managed to get these 2 degrees. Will you employ me? I was told it should help.â
âWell, is this a job you actually want?â
âYes.â
âThen no.â
Donât get me wrong, I enjoyed college. I loved college. And I even felt smarter while I was there. The collegiate atmosphere is extremely conducive towards making one feel smart. But it doesnât mean you actually are. I probably would have become smarter if I simply applied myself in anything at the time.
Like intently reading books and writing on my own, for the pure desire of doing it. Not because I had to cram for an exam in order to pass and soon forget about later. And then never have to remember for a career anyway because we just went over why. I think my point is, fuck college. I mean, I love it. But fuck it too.
We can really only be as smart as we think we are anyway, right?
Like someone could tell me, âHey, youâre very smart.â And I wonât take it as a compliment. At all. And not because I donât want to. But because in theory, this is impossible to believe. Letâs consider the logic.
In order to for someone to accept âyouâre very smartâ as a compliment, you must compare yourself relatively to that person.
In other words, if what they are saying is true, it would require that person be smart enough to assess your intellect. And in order for someone to be smart enough to assess if another person is âvery smartâ, they ought be smarter than the person of whom is being assessed.
So now the compliment âyouâre very smartâ becomes more like saying, âYouâre very smartâbut not quite as smart as me. How else would I know if you are very smart?â
And to me, thatâs a rather arrogant thing to say. They might as well just tell you youâre dumb.
But if they themselves are dumber than youâwhich they likely will be if you are indeed very smartâand have taken the liberty of passing this judgment upon you, then why the hell would you listen to them?
What do they know? They arenât intelligent enough to assess your intelligence. Tell them to go read a book and quit being an dummy. Only asses assess one another.
So next time you are about to compliment someone for being smart, think about what youâre about to say. Do you really want to come off like an asshole? Or just an ass?
This whole post is stupid. You have probably become relatively dumber from reading itâbut if you tell people you read something today, they might think youâre smart. Just donât tell them what it was.
Actually please do. I wouldnât mind building traffic to my website. I donât really care if people think you, or I, are dumb. According to my logic, smart or dumb, it doesnât matter either way; weâre all the same. Weâre all human. Just a bunch of moral immoral animals. Forget being the smartest guy in the room. I want to be the dumbest guy in the room and act solely on irrational instinct.
On that profound note, enjoy your day, ya stupid fuckinâ idiot.
Sometimes I have phone convos with people I know I will never interact with again. And not just sex hotlines.Â
Like recently when I got audited and I paid up front for audit protection because for only $40 extra I figured I might as well take the chance at being audited. Who wouldnât? Thatâs a pretty good deal. Especially since I was. So they were pretty good at guaranteeing that I needed to be protected.
Now Iâm on the phone with this guy named Frank McClowan weâll say for the sake of identity protection, though if you knew who I am actually referring to you would know that I sure as hell am not masking his name very well. Â Perhaps you will have the pleasure of speaking with him should you ever take the chance at being audited. Â And heâs like, âHi this Frank McClowan from taxblahblah.com. Â I am officially the most boring person you will ever talk to. Â But I am here to help you.â And he was very boring, but very helpful.
What I imagine Frank McClowan looks like, if he were a cartoon. Technically he could be, I have never met him. Maybe he is a robot. He did sound like one.
They are all in cahoots. Â I think TurboTax and these other companies just pay the IRS to audit people so they get more money. Â Or the other way around would probably make more senseâ the IRS pays these companies for information on people who probably should be audited, like me.
Regardless, this guy Frank handled everything for me, which was fine. I even got him doing extra stuff, like heâs telling me I should amend my state return to be safe and Iâve got him looking up if Iâm going to be penalized because I donât want to do it. Â Meanwhile Iâm in this situation because of my carelessness and Frank is just calling me back going, âI think youâll be alright.â
So now Iâve got no reason left to communicate with him ever again and I donât know how to say goodbye. Â Iâm like, âWell Frank, uh, good luck with everything. Â Have a great week. Â Bye now.â
Is that good? Â Because I really felt like I was abandoning someone who became a close companion to me. Â He saved me $100 on my audit! Â He didnât have to do that. Â He could have just said, âYes, we checked and you do in fact owe this much money.â Â Instead he spent several hours on the phone with me over the span of several weeks. Â I told him where I live. Â He knows how much money I make. Â I know where he lives. Â In many ways I became closer to this boring, helpful and presumably lonely guy than many women Iâve dated. Â I will miss you, tax audit man.
On second thought, maybe Iâm the boring, lonely and presumably helpless guy with abandonment issues.
A message I wrote on an online dating site to a girl who said she listens to Billy Joel and Phil Collins
Hey girl,
In the middle of the night, I go walking in my sleep because Iâve been looking for something so hard to find that it can only be seen by the eyes of the blindâuntil I saw her, for the longest time, Iâd been in a NY State of mind, out of touch with the rhythm and blues.
I decided Iâm gonna tell her about it, Iâm gonna try for an uptown girl, donât ask me why, I am an innocent man. Sheâs got a way about her profile that Iâm keeping the faith in online dating. This is my life; at least thatâs what I told my parents when movinâ out.
So whatdaya say, a bottle of red? Or a bottle of white? It all depends upon your appetite. We could just go take a ride on the Hudson River lineâoh wait I stopped driving my car when I moved to Hoboken. Where do you live again? Allentown? Iâve forgotten since I started writing this message.
We all fall in love but we disregard the danger of a bad initial attempts to impress a stranger; but hell only the good die young. And I often consider myself the entertainer anyway.
Besides, when it comes to love, itâs just a matter of trust. Well, honesty helps too. And honestly I can tell Iâd like you just the way you are. Though admittedly right now, itâs probably lust. But who knows, why not give this big shot a try and see if itâs a total bust? No pressure, darling, I donât go to extremes. Though this message might tell you otherwise.
You may be right; I may be crazyâbut I may just be the lunatic you are looking for! I can feel it coming in the air tonightâoh wait wrong song guy. Ah hell, Iâve been waiting for this moment all my life. I`d like to settle down, get married and maybe have a child someday. While the night is still young.
Itâs all about simplification. Iâm simplifying my life. Itâs simple:
Iâm reducing the amount of crap I have in my bedroom.
-Already did. I had no choice. I have to move out this weekend.
Iâm reducing the number of words I use in sentence.
-Make sense?
Of course it does. All it took was two words. Now that makes sense. I sense sense in making that sentence. You could even get the scent of sense when I made that sentence.
Just sniff your computer or tablet screen like this dumb broad did: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zyKSawCSh7E
Creating a scent of sense is the essence of what Iâm trying to accomplish.
-But to what extent? This is becoming incessant. Back to my purification through simplification process preference.
Iâm reducing the number of times I think about things I donât want to think about.
-By mentioning this I just thought about a bunch of things I didnât want to think about. I should probably stop mentioning my attempts to do this.
Da Vinci (âLeonardoâ to the complex laymen) once said, âSimplicity is the ultimate sophistication.â
-I think he was right. Thus, simplification.
Iâm reducing my thoughts to only those objectives that make sense.
-âTis the essence of success.
When Iâm sitting at home alone an empty bedroom, a lot comes into perspective.
-Like why am I sitting here alone in this empty bedroom? Itâs not even home. Itâs a shitty apartment building that I hate living in. I canât wait to move out at the end of this week. I probably should have done more with my life by now. I wish I didnât get rid of my TV already because I could be watching Netflix. But then I wouldnât be accomplishing anything which is why I probably wound up in this apartment in the first place.
Iâm reducing the number of clothes that I own.
-Technically I donât really own many of these clothes anyway because most of them I either inherited from my father or my uncle or my grandfather or even my mother, or from a friend who purchased newer clothes after lending them to me and refusing to ever wear them again, or stole from a store, or rather, âborrowedâ from a store and returned to a store in exchange for something better.
I still refuse to believe I may be one of the people responsible for the financial collapse.
-After all I am just one insignificant person doing insignificant things. How could I have any impact?
Thereâs no way something so complicated could have happened on account of some things so simple.
-And thatâs a pretty complex thought to end on. At least in my simple mind.
