There are way too many rant pages on the Internet!
But of course, I wouldn't be able to rant about that unless I had my own. Consider it a sinkhole for my anger.
And since I can't be bitter all the time, I'll pepper these pages with a few odd things I notice in life, too.
Biased Observations and Obligatory Rants
A Presentation of The Big Waste of Space Wanna see more?
August 2000 Previous Rants:  
Thursday
August 31
2000
I've come to realize that flat, uninspired, pop rock can become immensely successful under the guise of "country music."
Wednesday
August 30
2000
I caught a commercial for Sea World on TV today and was exposed to the traditional shot of park visitors getting drenched by a playful orca. For some reason, this is a real attraction for people and obviously a well promoted feature of the park. But, I can't help but think — don't these people realize the whales piss in there?

And if you've ever seen what a horse can produce, just imagine what a killer whale can do.

Sunday
August 27
2000
One more entry about Burger King and people are going to think that's the only place I eat...but here goes. I got my usual #1 with cheese (no pickles, no tomatoes) for lunch today and was shocked to find that my Dr. Pepper came in a cup plastered with a full-circumference image of the Backstreet Boys.

Hey, I wish them all the luck in the world with their work-boot choreography and their bevy of 14-year-old fans, but honestly — who can eat with this staring at them?

Thursday
August 24
2000
"E-mail." It makes sense. It's mail that's electronic. I get lots of e-mail. Plenty of e-mail. But, I feel stupid when I say I get "several e-mails."

Why? Well, take the word mail. It's collective. You get magazines, bills, ads, cards — all in the mail. But, when I get a single message from someone, I call that a letter. I never ever say I got a mail from someone. "My grandma sent me another mail. I get at least two mails from her a week." Say that and you sound like a moron.

But, it's perfectly legitimate to say, "Stop sending me so many e-mails." Why haven't we started using the word e-letter? "I just checked my e-mail. I got only one e-letter today."

Sounds perfectly acceptable, right? However, be the first in your class to say "e-letter" and you'll be shunned like an Amish who...well, who uses e-mail.

Monday
August 21
2000
I was never a big fan of onion rings until I tried them at Burger King one day. It was never the taste of onion rings that I disliked, but the greasiness and the tendency for the entire onion to slip out of the batter tube on the first bite and slap you in the chin.

However, Burger King's onion rings are bite size and relatively devoid of grease. So I eat them with a Whopper more often than fries now.

But, the burger giant's endorsement aside, I really wanted to talk about a general observation about fast-food side orders. Why is it whenever I order onion rings, there's always a french fry in there? One fry in the middle of my...what is that thing called...my cardboard pouch full of rings. It's the same deal with curly fries! There's always one regular fry stowing away!

And I never eat it...it's just weird. Perhaps that's what they've got in mind. Escapee fries. Fugitive potato slivers counting on the which-one-of-these-things-is-not-like-the-other factor of food revulsion.

Thursday
August 17
2000
Who ever told Macy Gray she could sing?

She sounds like a Muppet, but with no range.

Wednesday
August 16
2000
What happened to Legos? Yeah, I know they're still around, but have you seen them lately?

I remember a time when I played with Legos — it doesn't seem that long ago — and you could actually build various things with them. First, of course, you'd buy a set and build the intended cover design. You'd rip open the box, spill out the assorted pieces — one or two would invariably find their way under the couch — and then you would follow the little picture instructions from one step to the next, deciphering which pieces were added to the puzzle from the previous step.

Once you got that done, you'd rip your predetermined creation apart and dump all the pieces into your giant box of Legos, the newest pieces never to be part of the same architecture again. The next four hours would be spent building various fortresses, spaceships, etc. from the increased number of blocks at your disposal. The tiny, square ones with one bubble, the rectangular ones with two bubbles, the blocks with six bubbles, the big plates with dozens of bubbles, they were all there. Colors ranging from bright red and yellow to a cooler blue to a dull middle gray. They mixed a matched. You even had little cylindrical, translucent ones for lights. Anything was possible.

But now...now you may as well just buy a regular toy. The pieces are already molded for you. Take a look. You want to buy a pirate ship? The hull is nearly one solid piece! How about a racecar? Stick on the wheels and you're ready to go! Each box has its own unique, specially designed pieces!

When I was buying Legos, the most specialized pieces you could get were the antennas and those wing-shaped ones. Oh yeah, and the blue cockpit hatches — every spaceship had the same ones. But, they were cool. You could build a hundred space fighters and they were all part of the Blue Cockpit Fleet. And the little pilots all wore those tiny yellow helmets. Well, at least as many as you could find helmets for.

And sure, some men were painted like firefighters, and some were missing eyes from being shaken around in that box, but they could all fly a starship.

Hmm...I think I'm going to go dig around in the attic a while. This place could use a few defenders of the cosmos.

Monday
August 14
2000
Isn't anybody called "Grandma" anymore? I swear I haven't heard that word in a long time. Every grandmother wants to be called something else now. Granna, Grams, Grandmama, Gram-gram, Grammy, Nana, Mamaw, Meemaw...

It's like it's a curse to be called "Grandma." I guess grandmothers don't want the stigma of sounding like they're that old. Then again, when you start having a line of 25-year-old grandparents, the generations would have to begin differentiating.

Thursday
August 10
2000
Ever do this? Go to somewhere like a donut place, buy a donut, pay for it and say "thank you" just as the donut guy shuts the register? So, you're not sure if he heard you say "thank you" or not? And you don't want to say it again in case he did hear you because you don't want to sound like an idiot, or worse, sound like you're expecting a "you're welcome" from him and not getting it. Then again, if he didn't hear you, then you still look like a jerk for just grabbing your donut and walking away after he was so nice to reach all the way to the front of the case and grab the one with the most sprinkles that you were so insistent on getting.

And let's not even talk about that tip cup that he saw you glance at while you were putting your change in your pocket.

Wednesday
August 9
2000
Here's something I've never really understood...why do so many parents — in fact, why do any parents name their sons after their fathers? I'm talking about when a guy named Eric has a son and names him Eric. Eric Jr.

Is it a matter of vanity? Or is it just a bewildering lack of imagination? Perhaps it's aspirations of one day having offspring that will tack on the pretentious suffixes "the Third" or "the Fourth."

Whatever it may be, I don't think anyone who does this seems to comprehend the problems it causes. Whenever you refer to either the father or the son, you always have to differentiate. Sure, you can just call the dad Eric as you always have, but then you have to say "Eric Jr." when you refer to the kid. And that gets tiresome.

I know some people who have chosen to use the word "little" to preface the name. Eric and Little Eric. It rolls off the tongue more easily, but what about when the boy grows up? I don't think he'll take too kindly to being called Little Eric for very long. Then you're back to Eric Jr. And he'll probably hate that, too.

Then again, there is the option of just calling him Junior. But, then you'd have to move to Alabama.

Tuesday
August 8
2000
I picked up dinner tonight at the Hat — purveyor of good, wholesome, artery-reinforcing food — and upon my return, realized I once again did something really retarded. You see, when I'm at home, I roll up the bottoms of my jeans a little because they get under my heels when I'm not wearing shoes. When I put my shoes back on, like when I'm going to the Hat, I roll them back down. But, every once in a while, I'll neglect to roll one of them down and walk merrily into public.

Now, if I accidentally left both of them rolled up, it wouldn't be so bad. But, when I walk into public with one cuff rolled up, I look like I'm expressing my devotion to some ridiculous '80s hair band. And until I discovered my absurd gaffe, I was feeling cocky because I thought a table of women were checking me out while I was waiting for my chili fries.

I may as well tie a row of bandannas around one leg next time.

Monday
August 7
2000
I've been seeing ads lately for a new movie called Deliberate Intent. Some may disagree with me on this, but I think this is the dumbest title for a movie that I've heard in a long time. Deliberate intent? Is there any other kind? Accidental intent? Undecided intent? Happy-go-lucky intent, maybe.

I may be wrong, but I do believe that something of intent is intentional. So what else would intent be but deliberate? It's like saying "the egotistic William Shatner." It's a given.

Thursday
August 3
2000
Ever taken a look at the selling points of some of the CD-R or Zip-type drives on the market? A lot of them boast themselves as having an unlimited storage capacity. Unlimited storage capacity? Hell, an answering machine has an unlimited storage capacity as long as you keep sticking fresh tapes in it. It's like saying your car has an unlimited driving distance — you just have to keep putting gas in it.
Wednesday
August 2
2000
As I continue writing these rants, I realize that advertising is an unending resource of stress for me. For example, take that Pepsi One commercial where all those people are on a ferry that's rocking back and forth. You know, where the sodas keep sliding to and fro and the guy takes alternate drinks from a Pepsi and a Coke. That's right, the one they've been running since the last Super Bowl.

Who wrote this thing? If you don't get it, the point of the commercial is that Pepsi One tastes almost exactly like Coke. Well, anyone who would care that Pepsi One tastes almost like Coke would be someone who drinks Coke. I mean, if you're a Pepsi drinker, you like Pepsi; you wouldn't be interested in something that tastes like Coke. And why the hell would someone who drinks Coke switch to a soda because it tastes almost like Coke? They already drink something exactly like Coke...Coke! So, who is this working on?

Tuesday
August 1
2000

I've noticed something in the past few months about commercials on the radio. And maybe it's just something they do here in the Los Angeles area or maybe it's a nationwide trend that has just started since I moved out here, I don't know. But, I will hear a radio commercial about a hundred times in the course of three or four months, at which time it changes.

Now, I'm not talking about a complete change of commercial. I mean they simply re-record the same dialogue, changing only a couple of insignificant words or using a different, yet similar-sounding actor in one of the roles. And it's usually worse the second time around. On a few rare occasions, they'll actually run through the same script, add some sound effects and deliver it in a way that agonizingly "explains" the joke that we got the first time. No new information, no improvement in sound quality — just an extra bit of "Hey, moron. Let's go over this one more time in case you didn't understand the phrase extra smooth."

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Wanna see more? A Presentation of The Big Waste of Space