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06:31:18 - 2000-03-10


First apologies about the last entry on Timmy Funknugget. My intention was to show the irony of ME writing a children's book being preposterous because of my penchant for foul language and poor grammar. While I wrote it, I thought I was projecting that irony. While reading it, I came off like a 7-year-old who just found out he shouldn't say the word "fuck" because it was bad.

Ah well...they can't all fly outta the park, now can they??

Don't you just LOVE finding a diary in its early stages and falling in love with it right from the beginning??

You know...the same feeling you had for ME when I burst onto the scene, spinning my tales of sex stories and penile glories.


Well ... right now, I feel that way about Schmez and Affemann . If you haven't read either one yet, Uncle Bob says go do it right after you're done here. Both of their recent entries are more serious than past entries, but I've read both all the way through and have added them to my bookmarks list and check 'em every day and YOU SHOULD TOO.

Tell 'em Uncle Bob sent ya. It'll freak their newbie asses out.


I guess I like Diaries that can make me smile. Both of these do that.

I cooked Jerk Chicken for the first time the other night. It was DELICIOUS! And very simple to make.

I've gotten into a whole thing where I'm cooking NEW things. I tried stuffed green peppers recently which I didn't really care for, but the wife loved 'em. The jerk chicken was out of this world. And my Blackened Steaks are to die for, although my wife insists they taste like armpits. Which I agreed, but they tasted more like a sweaty, hairy male armpit to me than a female's cleanshaven pit.

Y'know...I'm lucky enough to be in a job where I don't catch a whole lot of shit. When I deal with the general public, they are excited to talk to me, because they know I'm going to be putting their story in a newspaper and this is their big chance at hometown fame and glory, even if it only lasts a week.

To put it bluntly, I don't have to deal with assholes.

Until yesterday.

This guy calls me up and wants to tell me "a story".

I get this a lot. People call to tell me "their story" and then at the end they think I'm going to fall all over myself, desperate to write "their" story.

Most of the time these "stories" include abnormally, oversized pumpkins in gardens, kids winning a poster contest and travelling to Washington to show his poster to the Secretary of Agriculture, or old ladies hitting the 100-year-old mark and wanting me to come out and kiss them and fondle their colostomy bags.


Yesterday, a parent calls me up.

This guy lives about 60 miles south of us (already ... he's out of our readership range and I'm NOT going to be covering his story because it's not LOCAL INTEREST).

He proceeds to tell me how his teenage son got paddled at school so hard it left a bruise on his ass. He says his son gets in trouble regularly and gets paddled quite a bit, but this is the first time it's left a bruise.

The Dad is thinking of suing the school, the county board of education, the state board of education, etc.

Why is it that the school can whale away on his kid with a paddle and get away scot-free, when if he tries to discipline his own child at home, he'll get arrested for child abuse?

That was about the only good point the man made.

Listening to the story, I gathered one thing...this guy had one punk-assed troublesome kid. This kid constantly defied authority at his school, was constantly getting paddled and obviously needed to do some prison time, if paddling wasn't correcting the situation. On this occasion, my guess is, the kid was probably more punk ass than usual, and whoever paddled him was getting tired of these frequent visits and decided to teach the punk ass a lesson.

I told him I wasn't interested in covering his story. I explained to him that it wasn't of "local" interest and it's not the kind of news we cover. We report "happy news" I told him. Grandmother's birthdays. Big assed pumpkins. Promotions, awards, etc.

Not punk assed kids getting pummelled in the principal's office for being punk assed kids.

The guy started getting beligerent with me. This took me aback because like I said .... I don't deal with cranky people, only nice people.

"Oh ... so if I find some "Happy News", then you'll write about it?" the guy said.

"As long as it's in the local area," I reminded him.

"That's bullshit," the guy said.

Okay ... I cuss like a mofo sailor. I dare say that if society didn't have these goddamned conformity rules that I would be cussing 24-7.

BUT ... I'm NEVER going to listen to someone use curse words while I'm on the clock and I don't know the person. I DON'T HAVE TO.

FIRST...I don't want to be talking to you in the first place whether you're cussing or you're the happiest person in the world. I've been writing long enough so that no matter WHAT your story is, I've heard it all before.

SECOND ... You're goddamned lucky I've listened thus far.

and THIRD ... get some fuckin' couth, ya jackoff.

Unsolicited cursing pisses me off. Granted ... I may have just offended you in the last 30 seconds.

I apologize.

See...I used to run a little disclaimer at the top of the page saying my diary was for mature audiences who knew all the curse words and didn't object to them being sprinkled about the diary.

Then I did a little research and found out a SHITLOAD of my readers are teenagers who apparently aren't offended by my white trash lingo.

Dass coo'...Dass coo'...

So should know by now if you can ...handle ... Uncle Bob.

(Uncle Bob flexes his butt muscles, sucks his cheeks in, and stares at the reader in a pathetic attempt to look sexy)

Anyway ... when the guy said "bullshit" I had a choice. I could hang up on him right there and then, or I could give him a piece of my mind.

The conversation had gone on for about five minutes at this point, so my patience was wearing thin anyway. I was hired here to write a freakin' humor column and a gossip column and that's IT.

Now all of a sudden, I'm in charge of the news too????

Well fuck me running. If I'm in charge of the news then I DECIDE what is news and what isn't and little Jimmy getting the shit kicked out of him for smart-mouthing a teacher wasn't news in my paper. It was a fucking tragedy. Perfect fodder for an editorial on the growing lack of respect that students are showing towards the one group of people who have stood forward and said "Yes ... even with the total lack of respect that teens can show their teachers these days include physical attacks and gunfire ...I think that I CAN MAKE A DIFFERENCE and guide these teens to a better future."

Yeah buddy. Gimme a chance to tell my senior editorialist your son's story and he'll hang his punk ass out to dry in print. That old bastard HATES today's teens.

So ... the guy said "That's bullshit...."

It pissed me off.

I said "Maybe it is bullshit. But the truth of the matter is, you're talking about suing the school system which is something that neither I or my paper want to be encumbered with. If I write a story and you sue the school, I will be subpoenaed and have to alter my life for several months around this one story. And ... I don't think you have a case anyway."

The ignorant fucking redneck sat there for a second silently and then said "Well, what if I don't sue the school system?"

I wanted to say "THEN WHY THE FUCK WOULD I WRITE THE STORY?!? A kid gets spanked?!?"

I said "Sir, give the whole situation some thought. You're talking a lengthy court battle over your boy being spanked at school. He's not the first or last student to be spanked at school. And in a month the bruise will be gone and this will all be a memory."

At me...

The guy sat there quietly and then said sarcastically, "Well thanks a LOT for your help. You have a GREAT day now, my friend."

Hey, don't mention it.


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That Sinking Feeling - 6:09 a.m. , 2008-10-28

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