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10:34:53 - 2001-03-07


Have you ever had a rude telemarketer?

The thought had never crossed my mind until yesterday. Telemarketers are already rude because they're interupting your daily schedule with their stupid little call that's trying to either sell you a credit card, a penis enlarger or a new mortgage on your home.

What? You don't get penis enlarging telemarketer calls??

Is my penis THAT small that I'm the ONLY one getting telemarketer calls begging me to enlarge it??


So anyway, I'm at work yesterday, you know, plugging away at my craft, y'know...keepin' it real.

The phone starts ringing.

I stare at it, hoping to intimidate it to the point that it quits ringing.

No such luck. Plus, I work with a buncha slugs who think they're too damned good to answer the phone when I'm the busiest g-damned mofo in the office.

I pick up the phone.

"My Place Of Employment," I say into the receiver to let the caller know where they have called. I actually say my place of employment, but I don't want to say it here because for some unknown reason I'm feeling kinda paranoid here.

"Your place of employment??" the lady asks as if she has the wrong number.

"Yes. My place of employment," I say again.

"Is there a Mr. Martin there?" she asks.

"He's not in yet," I say, covering for the fact that my boss is a hopeless alcoholic who's probably at home at 11 a.m., hugging the fucking toilet, spewing fried mushrooms and Crown Royal all over the bathroom, since that's his daily routine anyway.

"Do you know what time he'll be in," she asks.

Like I boss is an alkie. He's rarely in the office before noon because it takes him a few hours each morning to vomit his stinking guts up and find his car keys. Then about 20 minutes to clean the chunks of vomit out of his salt and pepper beard.

"I'm not sure, ma'am. What is this concerning?" I ask.

Okay ... since she's the telemarketer and I'm the telemarketee, I'm ALLOWED to be slightly rude. She's bothering me, not vice versa. It's her job to keep her composure, it's my job to ask questions and be skeptical.

"I can't tell you what it's about," she says.


You CAN'T tell me what it's about or you WON'T tell me what it's about???

Clearly you CAN tell me what it's about, as we've established the fact that you A) Have a tongue in your mouth and B) Can speak a little English.

I'm kinda stressed anyway, because it's Hell Day at the office. So, in order to help this young lady with the manners of a serial killer, I say "I have a feeling that if you're trying to sell him something, he's probably not interested."

After working for Captain Puke-o for four years, I can honestly say I've never seen him sit down and listen to a telemarketer's spiel and then buy whatever they have to offer.

This is where the telemarketer gets defensive.

"How do you KNOW he's not interested?" she asked.


Alright, sweetie ... you wanna call a spade a spade??

"Because he has never talked to a telemarketer ever since he bought the business," I tell her. "In fact, he usually just tells us to hang up on them."

"I'm not a telemarketer!" she says loudly.

Yeah, right.

"Ma'am," I say. "If you would tell me what it is you want with Mr. Martin, I could probably tell you whether he'd be interested or not."

"I TOLD you I can't discuss it with you, unless you're Mr. Martin," she says with snippiness just OOOOOZING from her voice.

"Fine," I said, now attracting the attention of my co-workers. "Mr. Martin's dead."

And I hung up the phone.

Everyone just stared at me in disbelief that I would actually fuck with a telemarketer.

I shrugged my shoulders and just said "Telemarketer" and went back to typing.

Rude assed woman.

Speaking of rude assed women ... listen to this without getting too pissed off.

About two years ago, two black teenagers went into a local day care center here at closing time. They robbed the place, then one of them raped and sodomized the three ladies working there while the other watched out for anyone coming. Apparently, according to prosecutors, it was a gang initiation thing.

They were caught fairly quickly. They've been in jail for the last two years until their trial which started about a month ago.

The teenager that raped the women was guilty as sin. There was no getting around that. In return for a lighter sentence, he agreed to testify against the lookout guy, since the lawyers were finding it hard to prosecute the guy.

The lookout guy had SEVERAL people come forward and blatantly lie on the witness stand about him NOT being there. Some people said they were on the phone with him. His mother said he was at home. Damned near every story conflicted with one another, while the rapist sat there and told them that he was there with him watching out for anyone coming to the business.

So last week, the jury decided that the lookout guy WAS there and that the two would both spend the rest of their lives in prison.

This upset the lookout guy's mother.

Outside the courtroom, as the lookout guy's mother screamed at the women who had been raped as well as the daycare owner who lost her business because parents were kinda wary about putting their kids in a daycare where such a horrible crime happened, the mother yelled "ALL THIS FOR THREE WHITE PIECES OF MEAT!"

Wait a second here...

Your son ... an admitted gang member ... kept a lookout while his buddy who desperately wanted to be in the gang raped and sodomized three women. Then your son took their money and spent it.

And yet...the women are white pieces of meat. It was THEIR fault for being at the daycare center in the first place, right Mom??

Christ. That REEEEEALLY pissed me off.

It apparently pissed the lookout guy's lawyer off as well. The lawyer broke down into tears when the mother screamed this and honestly felt like shit for defending this worthless piece of trash.

Something tells me that if the mother refers to three rape victims as "White pieces of meat", we've found the source of our problem already.

A fucked-up mother raised an even more fucked-up kid.

Your son deserves life in prison, lady.

Even more...he deserves to be beaten, robbed and raped in prison by men much bigger than he is.

He chose the thug-life lifestyle.

Now he gets to live it.

I know this is a pretty dark subject to discuss here, and I DO apologize if anyone was offended.

It's not even so much the racial thing that gets me. Just the fact that three women who were just going about their day only to have the rest of their lives turned upside down by these monsters were referred to as "pieces of meat" by some gang member's mama.


I'd give ANYTHING to be alone in a room with that mother.

Well...not alone.

I'd want a baseball bat in there too.

Not very "Christian-like" of me, huh?

And...according to news reports ... we have about 48 hours to download stuff off Napster before we have to rely on these other services like audiogalaxy and gnutella.

Those services are well and good and beat nothing at all.

But I'm going to miss Napster. It's never going to be like it has been. Even when it's a pay service, not enough people are going to pay to have it be as vast as it is now.

I'm sad.

Then again ... I've got damned near any song I could ever want off of it now.

So I'm not going to miss it THAT much.


PHARCYDE: "Passin' Me By"

I got this one from Drugged's diary. She loves it so much, she put a real audio of it on her site. I listened to it, dug it, downloaded it and now I'm boppin' my head to it as well. Thanks Drugged! Go back to Druggin' now!!


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