On Incompetence

Thou art a vile pimple on the arse of humanity, yet it pains to smite thee thusly…
Were it not for the heinous afflictions suffered unto thine colleagues, thou might err justly on the side of righteousness and bear forgivance!
But… Two separate incidents marked with the same gross display of incompetence in the space of a fortnight?
Woe!
Woe, I say!
A pox upon thee!

Yoda Revisited

kuro-kikuchigorge.jpg
Looking through some photos I took last year brought back memories of the one-eyed kitten we rescued and eventually named Yoda. His was a happy ending.
My sister took him as carry-on when she went back home to the states last summer. He now lives at my family’s house and apparently weighs more than our Shih Tzu.
I have missed having pets here in Japan.

72 Virgin Goats

It occurs to me that on a scale of Loserdom, a white supremacist with a mother named Maria Del Prado is second only to these suicide bombers you occasionally see on the news whose vests go off prematurely, killing only themselves.
One can only hope these losers spend eternity comparing notes on their failed lives and getting eaten by 72 virgin goats in an oasis of poison oak and concertina wire.
Damn, what was in my coffee today?

Disposable Heroes

How can it be so easy to spot shortcomings in other people while being completely blind to one’s own? For instance, I remember how badly other people’s hypocrisy used to bug me, but I became so used to it, it never fazes me much anymore – to the point where I can justify my own if its pointed out, say, during an argument. I think people build up a resistance to a lot of the bullshit they are confronted with, but only at the expense of their own values. Is this why you sometimes meet old friends only to find that you like the memory of them much better than their actual current selves?
Reading the crap I just wrote above, I now realize I am mumbling to myself online.
Cool.