The I Miss the Old Days Complaint Thread
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You have no idea where you are going with that?... Welcome to my world... I've already forgotten why I'm writing this...
Actually... I can still see your post in the text box, so I guess I'm replying to your post about the older looking, younger version of you that was sent to monitor you at work...
You said you didn't know where you were going with that and I thought it would be fun to go wherever you were or weren't actually going to go, for you... I can't figure out where I'm going with any of my posts ever, but maybe I can figure out where someone else was going with their's...
I'll start from this point... (please excuse any inaccuracies or deviations from actual facts or reality)...
"Late last year, I got my first new car ever and I realized it has no place to put a CD in. It took me some time to realize this because the thought never occured to me to try to play a CD... Previously I'd been eating them, believing them to be a new type of super thin low calorie reflective donut... then after a few minutes I remembered I’d heard about them being more like inedible small reflective records, which made the petrochemical aftertaste and the music titles printed on them make more sense.
Regardless, since this was the first new car I’d gotten, I figured I’d better get out of the area before anyone noticed it was missing… I suspected that GenetiCorp was still following me and hopefully this car had OnStar or some other tracking device built in which I could use to throw off my pursuers.
I eventually found an opening in the fence at the rail yard and manage to lodge the car into the side of a train headed for the coast… I’m not sure which coast because I’ve never really mentioned where I live, thus making it harder for the lunatic writing this as me to figure out, but for argument’s sake it was bound for some coast, which technically you don’t really have to define exactly because if you think about it, most people just say “the coast” and everyone just assumes either the “west coast” or whichever one is closest to them… like in Don McLean’s “American Pie”, where he sings “And the three men I admire most, My Father, Son, and the Holy Goat… They caught the last train for the coast… The day my Hamster died…” etc, etc, pie, drunk dying hillbillies, blah, blah nostalgia etc… We all just assumed he was singing about the Pacific Northwest up by where all those alcoholic hillbillies were found dead in the trunk of a Chevy at that dried out levee… Which now in retrospect I’m thinking may have been less of a song about Buddy Holly and more of a murder confession… much like Taylor Swift’s “No Body, No Crime”…
But I had no time to think about that, the fire was spreading from the boxcar to flat car loaded with giant newspaper paper rolls… or possibly toilet paper rolls for a giant or godzilla-like Kaiju… already several burning train hobos had spread the flames forward as well, and it was just a matter of time till it reached the tanker cars filled with propane.
I started to head back to hole in the fence when an “Earth Shattering Kaboom” knocked me to the ground and I realized what a cliché saying that was… like I was some kind of Bugs Bunny character always anticipating a particular type of “Kaboom” every time I described an explosion I’d caused.
But there was no time for contemplation of such matters, not only had I dropped the huge pumpkin pie I had salvaged from the car, I dropped the tracking bacon the GenetiCorp agents had planted on me.
I reflected for a moment on the irony of a tracking beacon being made to look like bacon and quickly stood up…
Perhaps the GenetiCorp agents would think the bacon flew out the window when I drove through the section of the rail yard fence next to the hole in the fence I was actually aiming for.
I had no time to think about this, I left the fallen pie on the ground and went to throw the bacon beacon into the tall weeds next to a smoldering hobo named Dave, whom I forgot to mention I had given a lift to and forgotten to tell to jump from the car, because I’d also forgotten he was sleeping in the back seat, but Dave mostly looked just a little singed and bit crispy here and there, but otherwise besides the big chunk of metal in his forehead, he looked just fine… honestly I didn’t even look at him much when he got in the car because I’ve always felt it’s judgmental to stare at strangers, especially hitchhikers when you pick them up, so for all I know he could have had that chunk of metal in his forehead his whole life and he’d just now finally died of blood loss…
I said a quick prayer for Dave and headed towards the street where a crowd had gathered, drawn by sound of the explosion… and also prosthetic limbs and hot pants that were raining down on the neighborhood, apparently fallout from the cargo of either the boxcar or the nearby warehouse that was obliterated in the explosion… it probably didn’t come from the orphanage or the nunnery next to the warehouse, unless there were a lot of nuns with fake limbs wearing hot pants, but I had no time to waste, I grabbed a pair of hot pants that looked like they were my size and a prosthetic arm and ran off… I figured the arm and hot pants could make a useful diversion if necessary, and in the very least an amusing joke if I offered to give someone “a hand”… get it… it was and artificial arm with a hand… give them “a hand”… no?… whatever… it was funny when I thought of it and I was still upset about Dave’s death and that the hot pants were a florescent orange leopard print not the bright magenta tiger print I’d really wanted, so I was very upset.
It was at that moment I realized that some of the people on the bus were staring at me and also that I’d gotten onto a bus.
I looked down and noticed the Pokémon costume I was wearing was covered in Dave’s blood and also that I was no longer wearing the head part of the costume, having taken it off because it was making not driving on the sidewalk a lot more difficult.
I slapped my forehead with the artificial hand in frustration at the realization my disguise was not as disguising as I’d thought it was… my mind raced for a solution and I took a bite of bacon and almost chipped a tooth on the transmitter antenna…
Damn it! I had forgotten to let go of the bacon when I threw it!
This was bad… real bad… I spotted an old man sleeping in the back of the bus and placed the artificial arm holding the bacon in his shopping bag. Surely this would confuse the GenetiCorp agents into thinking l’d had a face lift earlier in the day before I went on a murder spree and blew up an orphanage and nun warehouse filled with hot pants.
I reflected for a moment on whether or not I was even old enough to know what hot pants were given I’d never really mentioned my age to anyone but my imaginary kangaroo friend Baxter… but I figured “hot pants” were still a generic enough term that I probably knew what they were.
While I was thinking about that, the other passengers attention was drawn to the Chimpanzee that had gotten on the bus at the previous stop…
I immediately recognized him as Mister Sánchez the Murder Monkey!
One of GenetiCorp’s most deadly simian assassins.
Surly he was looking for me…
I pried open the back doors of the bus and jumped out without waiting for it to stop, even though I rang the bell, which surprisingly actually worked, because come on, when do those things ever actually ring loud enough for the driver to hear… unless the driver is just ignoring it or hates you because you paid in pennies and were carrying a sack of fermented cod fish with you, which there is no specific stated rule disallowing such a thing…
Neither was relevant because I paid in cash and used the the prosthetic arm to hand it over, which didn’t seem to phase the driver unless he thought it was a tasteless joke because he had three prosthetic limbs which I only noticed after he took the fare.
I felt a little embarrassed about that, but I decided it was too late to feel bad about that.
Instead I decided I would feel bad about landing upside down on the hard wooden floor of the open top semi trailer I’d just landed in.
Apparently I’d jumped out off an overpass and sailed through the air a great distance landing in a passing truck, landing inches from a stack of mattresses.
I stood up and dusted myself off… I reflected for a moment on how I really have to stop getting lost in my thoughts after having initiating an action of any great importance.
Luckily I was still standing inside the trailer when I completed that thought.
I took off the Pokémon costume and folded it neatly… luckily this time I was wearing clothes underneath and nudity wasn’t going to be a problem like last time.
It was also fortuitous that I was wearing a doctor outfit, and a real one not one of those weird fetish ones they sell at Party City around Halloween.
Fortuitous also because as I went to look for a spot to hide the Pokémon costume, I realized the truck was full of lab equipment being shipped to GenetiCorp headquarters.
Finally my luck had turned, no more sealing myself in cardboard boxes and mailing myself to GenetiCorp, only to be sent back due to insufficient postage… how many times had I done that?… I’d lost count… But this was the perfect way to infiltrate GenetiCorp and find out why a replicant posing as an older version of my brother’s daughter (or as a person like that is more commonly referred to, my “niece”), was attempting to impersonate her… surely GenetiCorp was behind this again… after all, the replicant clearly had a GenetiCorp logo imprinted on her forehead, something my “niece” probably lacked… at least I’m pretty sure about that, although in all honesty I never really paid a lot of attention to her forehead, except for that time I accidentally banged her into the chandelier when she was a baby… I was always bad at the flying game and I forgot the chandelier was that low… but she was young and I was successfully able to blame it on Baxter.
This time GenetiCorp wouldn’t get away with it and I’d find out where they’d taken my brother and his daughter(or in the common parlance, “my niece”).
As I looked around for a crate big enough to hide in, I came upon a box big enough to hold seven and a half medium size, Guinea Pigs marked “RANDOM EMPLOYEE ID CARDS! TOP LEVEL CLEARANCE! DO NOT USE TO INFILTRATE GENETICORP HEADQUARTERS! THIS END UP!”
“THIS END UP!” Was highlighted in red, so this was clearly important high level clearance.
I rummaged around in the box until I found an ID of an employee that looked as good as me, but had to settle for one that was adequate, though far less interesting.
I took a bite from the sandwich I found in the box marked “RANDOM HAM AND CHEESE SANDWICHES! LEVEL EIGHT CHEESE! KEEP REFRIGERATED!” next to the ID box... I chewed as I pinned the ID to my shirt.
Suddenly I heard a slow clapping from in back of me…
I spun around quickly and fell over, stood up quickly and slipped on the sandwich, falling on top of the box of sandwiches, scattering them all over the floor.
Suddenly the clapping resumed and tracked it to its source… a large macaque monkey shaped box on top of a stack of crates near the front of the truck.
After a moment or two it occurred to me it wasn’t a macaque shaped box at all… it was more chimpanzee shaped.
I stood up defiantly, “What do you want from me chimpanzee shaped box, what’s your game?”
The clapping stopped and the boxed move closer to the edge…
“Wha… Chimpanzee shaped what?… How hard did you hit your head?”! the box asked incredulously.
“Quite hard actually, I think I’ve got some level of brain injury and I can’t seem to remember anything from the years 1997 to 2002… every time I try to recall something I just see static and I hear the theme to “Friends” playing but like by a polka band, and I smell fresh roasted chestnu…”
“Enough! Don’t you realize who I am?” Shouted the box.
“A talking chimpanzee shaped box… that….” Suddenly it dawned on me that this wasn’t a chimpanzee or even a macaque shaped box!
“Impossible!… Mister Sánchez?… the Murder Monkey!” I gasped in disbelief.
“Very good liebchen, you recognize me now?” His distinctive german accent now ever so noticeable…
“How did you find me?” I asked, stepping backwards and slipping on another sandwich… “How?”
“It was quite easy actually… the old lady you pushed out the door before you leapt out screamed quite loudly, drawing my attention to you…and you yourself shouted “Geronimo!” before leaping out... and you cursed very loudly when you struck the lamppost before you plummeted over the side and onto the roof of that garbage truck… I almost lost you, but you rolled off the roof when it entered the on-ramp for the highway and luckily you landed in this truck which was waiting for a red light below the ramp… and since the bus stopped shortly after you pulled the cord, all I had to do was walk across the street and climb up the side and… well… here we are Fräulein NylonGirl.”
The way he said my username sent a cold chill down my back, but then I realized it was the freezer packs from the frozen urine samples I had knocked over when I fell…
I grabbed a handful of the tubes and threw them at him and dove for cover…
“Come now liebchen, it is going to take more than a handful of frozen pee-pee to stop me”… He said in his sinister German accent.
I squeezed between some large crates and managed to conceal myself behind a large box marked “RANDOM HIGH POWERED AUTOMATIC WEAPONS! DO NOT REFRIGERATE! THIS END UP!”
Suddenly it occurred to me that high powered automatic weapons could be used as a weapon against Mister Sánchez.
I quietly cut open the box using my incisors which I’d been meaning to have a dentist file down a bit for the longest time, but as fate would have it was a lucky break that I didn’t get around to it.
I rummaged around a bit and found a shotgun and some sort of machine gun… Mister Sánchez might be the best chimpanzee assassin with the brain of an ex-East German assassin working for an evil multinational corporation posing as an ordinary evil corporation headed by a quirky CEO many think is a genius geneticist who can’t stop posting annoying and controversial things on social media, but is actually just a way of distracting people from uncovering his real goal which is probably something very sinister…
By the time I finished that thought Sánchez had vanished… I hoped maybe he’d gotten bored waiting for me to finish that thought, or at least had stopped to get a bite to eat, so I stepped out from behind the crate with the guns drawn…
He was nowhere to be seen, so he probably went home…
Then suddenly I heard his voice…
“Liebchen, liebchen, liebchen… silly little girl… don’t you know that if you intend to kill the most dangerous chimpanzee assassin with the brain of an ex-East German assassin working for an evil multinational corporation posing as an ordinary evil corporation headed by a quirky CEO many think is a genius geneticist who can’t stop posting annoying and controversial things on social media, but is actually just a way of distracting people from uncovering his real goal which is definitely something very, very sinister, you’ll have to put bullets into those guns…”
I glanced over to the box and noticed another box next to it marked “BULLETS FOR RANDOM HIGH POWERED AUTOMATIC WEAPONS IN OTHER BOX NEXT TO THIS ONE! DO NOT STORE IN OPEN FIRE OR TEMPERATURES EXCEEDING 400°F! USE TO FILL GUNS BEFORE CONFRONTING ASSASSINS! THIS END UP!”
I cursed whoever was labeling these boxes for not making it more obvious.
“Now liebchen, you must excuse while I murder you so I can go home and watch “Love Island” on Netflix, I’m almost done with the first season…”
I looked up to see Sánchez leaping down from the upper crates, I dove out of the way knocking over the box of bullets.
Sánchez landed few feet in front of me with two daggers in his hands/paws… he took a step towards me with murder in his eyes and some crusty stuff in the corner of the left one… suddenly he slipped on one of the ham sandwiches slamming his head into the floor… right onto a high caliber rifle bullet that had landed pointing upwards.
He was dead before I could say “look out!”… which in retrospect was probably not a smart thing to say.
Regardless… he died as he lived… an East German assassin in a chimpanzee’s body.
I stuffed his lifeless corpse in the sandwich box and reflected on why he might have been called Mister Sánchez if he was East German, unless the chimpanzee who’s body he was using was named Mister Sánchez… but it made my head injuries hurt more to think of the possibilities.
I finished cleaning up the mess of the struggle and my clumsiness, just as the truck started to make sounds like it was pulling into the corporate headquarters of GenetiCorp.
I found a crate with enough room to hide in and now the waiting game had begun… soon I’d have my answers.
Soon I’d know where my brother was and I could finally ask him where the hell he’d put the remote for my TV when he was watching my apartment last month… finally I’d have those answers.
First I’d have to find a bathroom, because I really had to pee.
But soon it would all come together.
Soon I’d confront GenetiCorp and uncover their sinister plot.
Sooner I’d pee… I really had to pee…
The damn truck better hurry up or this was going to be a smelly damp crate…
But either way I’d get my revenge….
Soon..."
I hope this was accurate or at least useful as an excuse for being late for work or missing a birthday party or funeral.
Cheers.
Nope you are just either more in debt or have money depnding on what type of bill you have
@ McGyver:
TLDR
What an excellent way to kill some time! So funny! Thank you, McGyver!
Dana
...actually when I headed for the (Northwest) coast some 43 years ago (not following anyone or muse in particular but only looking to escape the brutal northern Wisconsin winters) I found most people there were driving Volvos, Saabs, Subarus, and VW microbuses, Volvo doesn't rhyme well with "levee", while Subaru and VW microbus have too many syllables and Saab only one (and rhymes better with mob, blob, snob, or Bob).
Granted Portland is sort of as the "Cradle of Craft Brewing" where you couldn't swing an intoxicated raccoon (and yes we have them) around above your head without hitting a neighbourhood brewpub or three so the drunken argument does have some accruacy to it (though there are also a lot of stoners these days), but that really didn't happen until the mid 1980s which was some 12 years after the song hit the charts.
There also were not many (if any) hobos around in either Seattle, Olympia or Portland even when I was there in the early 80s (that I noticed). Of course maybe Don may have been waxing prophetic at the same time he sang about whiskey and rye while bemoaning the fact his dad, son, and sacred goat left town, as that has certainly changed in recent years (though many here partake of other substances than distilled grain squeezings). At the time of the song, passenger trains also had those "disappearing railroad blues" (according to another singer) so maybe the misguided trinity spoke of only made it as far as Salina, Kansas or possibly Vernal, Utah (also known as Utah's "Dinosaur Land").
So no, he couldn't have been singing about the Pacific Northwest back then, must have been further to the south, paticularly in the 1950s as all that was up here back then was logging, fishing, and manufacturing aeroplanes.
TDSR... Too Dumb Shouldn't Read... The disclaimer for pretty much everything I write.
TLDR = Terrific Literature Definitely Read
TDSR = Totally Delightful Should Read
There, I fixed it for you.
I like your stuff but was too lazy to get my glasses
could use Narrator of course
I was surpriced not to find 42 and the towel mentioned in there, made me think...
I considered having Sir Richard Attenborough narrate it, but his being dead created too many legal issues, mostly with the grave robbing, corpse reanimation and the inevitable turning of the reanimated individual into a brain eating monster... But there is that short window where most reanimated individuals are just an absolute delight to work with, but it inevitably goes sideways and you have to decapitate them or shoot their brains out...
Sad really that the options are so few and it's such an inexact science...
Maybe next time...
But probably not.
Maybe.
I wonder if audio files can even be attached...
Thank you very much.
Unfortunately I didn't include a proper disclaimer this time, but generally the indications suggest that should my writings start to make sense or become entertaining, one should seek immediate medical attention... This can range from merely making a lot of noise, rattling pots and pans, tooting a trombone or engaging in a "STOMP!" type theatrical performance in the vicinity of a physician or other medical professional to draw their attention or extend to full admittance to a mental health facility for complete neurological evaluation and or confinement... generally it's good to consult a physician before reading any of my posts longer than six sentences.
So most of my posts.
Sorry for any inconvenience or hallucinations this may have caused.
I made one it was very entertaining but even zipped won't upload
Yeah, I figured as much... They don't really seem to work well many places.
I can't even get Siri to read it... But that's probably for the better... Apple probably would consider it "abusing the device" and have some protocols built in to stop Siri from reading anything I wrote.
OK an mp3 zipped works, wav was too big
Or...you could make a YouTube video, with a simple image constantly displayed, rather than video. I've seen that a lot.
Dana
I love old Jethro Tull, and this new song is pretty good, but God, Ian Anderson's voice just sounds so sad these days.
DAZ lipsync exists
just depends which charater best fits McGyver
Complaint: I need to spend $13,000 to get my roof replaced.
Non-Complaint: After I spend that I should get $6.000 for having the roof replaced with a "Fortified Roof". The biggest problem is having to come up with whole cost upfront.
Probably this guy...
Is it the brand "Fortified" or those pretreated OSB sheets with the green or terracotta finish on one side?
Neither. It is a special designation that the roof is installed to certain specifications that are supposed to mitigate wind damage.
You may be right. I started feeling very sick after responding to your post. Coincidence?
If I were going to do YouTube, it would have to be a Robot Chicken style animation... only the animation wouldn't be stop motion just a hand hidden behind a desk moving the figures around... as cheesy as possible.
Me and my friends preceded Robot Chicken by 20+ years... only using the cheesy aforementioned method and VHS video camera... We were responsible for such classics as "The Death of Lucy van Pelt" and "Penguin Violence"... Luckily those tapes have been lost to the sands of time.
Oh my god, that's hilarious... That needs to be acted out by one of those old fashioned 50s toy tin robots... maybe a cheap 70s plastic one with a wig.
I just had a vision of one of the Rock 'em, Sock 'em Robots I had as a kid wearing a blonde wig, lol.
Do you get these visions often? Are you worried about them? We are.
The voices in my head are telling me not to admit to anything
Does anyone know where I put my laptop charger? is it in my backpack or did I already take it out?
...complaint, there is a brain (and likely hearing) dead idiot in a van parked in a no parking zone across the street with one of those window rattling subsonic subwoofers cranked up to 11. They've been there for a while (over 20 min) so they are not waiting for someone. Calling the police wouldn't help because they no longer bother to respond to things like noise complaints or illegally parked vehicles.