Yankee Tag Blog

I’ve not been posting, because I’ve not been interesting.  And because I’ve not been not posting on facebook.  And I’ve been not not playing WoW.  But today I’m not posting on facebook or playing WoW and I’m still not interesting.  I’m at the airport.  And I’m eavesdropping on this guy sitting next to me, because he is interesting.  And gay.  Very, very gay.  He has the highest pitched voice I’ve ever heard coming out of an adult male.  And the way his legs are crossed made me do a double-take.  I guess if my legs were crossed like that, I’d have a high pitched voice too.

He seems nice enough, but he’s talking on his cell phone.  I kind of hate him for that.  Especially because it forces me to listen to him talk about things like shoes, some guy named “Bill”, his energy level, his schedule, and his feelings.  Which is fine, except I feel a little left out; I’d like to know who Bill is, and maybe he should ask me how I’m feeling.  Would that be so hard?

The good news is that I’m on my way home now.   And when I get there, I’m buying an AR-15.  I was going to special order one, but the guy fucked up my order, so I’m getting a different one now.  Now I need to find a machinist who will make an auto-seer.  Not that I would buy one, because that’s illegal.  But if you know anyone, let me know: fucktheATF@yankeetag.com

My Grandpa just moved in with my parents this week.  And my birthday is coming up next weekend.  So I’m going through this dual realization of what it means to age and the stages of life and shit.  It’s bullshit.  It’s basically just my excuse to drink a lot more than normal.

So Grandpa… he moved in with my folks.  Which is awesome, I absolutely love Grandpa.  Coolest guy ever, hands down.  Actually, I have some good Grandparents all the way around.  So the other night, I went over to have dinner with my parents and Grandpa.  It was dece.  My mom’s a good cook.  But before dinner started, I went back into my Granpa’s wing (he has his own “wing,” how great is that?) where he was sitting in his La-Z-Boy watching the weather with his TV headphones on.  He takes the headphones off when I sit down to him, but is clearly still just focused on the TV.  I haven’t seen him for a year or so.  It was a warm reunion.

So, he’s watching the weather on the TV.  And he’s reading it all out loud, because he can no longer here the announcer.  It wasn’t even the good part, where they just summarize how hot or cold it will be.  It was the dumb part, where they’re talking about barometric pressure, as if we learn about that in public schools these days…  And he’s just reading along.  And it hit me: old people are weird.  Think about it!  Old people love the weather channel, right?  Why?  Is it going to mess up their evening plans?  Kill that weekend campout?  No.  They’re going to be sitting inside watching about the weather this weekend too.

It’s not just the weather channel, either.  Think about driving.  A lot of old people drive slowly.  Everytime I’m stuck behind some slow driver, I eventually see that they’re elderly when I pass them.  Or female.  Or Asian.  (I once saw the perfect storm: An elderly, Asian, woman driver.)  Why are these people going so slow?  YOU’RE ABOUT TO DIE ANY MINUTE!!!  Hurry the fuck up!  What, is your cable out?  Why aren’t you watching the weather channel at home?

Anyway, old people are weird.  Just think about it.

I’m back at the airport for my third flight of the month. I’m starting to recognize airport personnel and other frequent travelers. This probably indicates that my flights are delayed too often, at least more so than it indicates that I’m observant by nature.

Passing through security this morning I learned two things: 1) it’s ok to bring CPAP machines through the security checkpoint, but you have to take it out of your bag just like you would a laptop, and 2) apparently there is some doubt among TSA employees as to whether X-rays can pass through neoprene (wet suit material).

Perhaps I’m just being rude (it’s been known to happen), but at 5:00 am, I would prefer as little discussion and commotion as possible as I proceed through the understaffed security checkpoint. The overly awake “greeter” (a new feature I’ve noticed at the security point at PDX) loudly gives the same instructions as the monitor placed directly overhead. (Remember 3-1-1 to speed my screening process.) One of her instructions is to please take out any laptops, video recorders, or CPAP machines out and place them in a bin for security screening. CPAP Machines? Is it really that common to travel with CPAP machines that we need to announce this? I’m a reasonably intelligent guy, and I had no idea what this was until I looked it up on Wikipedia. So they can’t be that common. And at 5:00 in the morning, we probably don’t need to announce this in our “outside voices”.

So I’m undressing into the grey plastic bins to be run through the X-ray machine. My normal routine is to pull my laptop out of its neoprene case (more like a sleeve, really) and place the laptop on top of the case in the bin. It’s a new laptop, and I’d really hate to get it scratched up as bad as my old laptop. I’ve been going through this exact same routine on every flight since March, when I bought my fancy new laptop. Today an overzealous and underinformed (the worst possible combination) TSA agent stops me and says that the computer must go through by itself. These guys don’t have the easiest job (although that’s mostly their fault, IMO), but nevertheless, I feel obliged to point out that I’d really rather not have my new laptop resting directly on the rickety old grey plastic bin, and would prefer, instead, to have it resting on my case. I have, as I patiently pointed out, complied with instructions by removing it from my baggage and by passing it through in its own bin. At this point, the gentleman (if he can be called that) argues that the the X-ray machine might have trouble passing through the case, and that they need to get a good look.

Ok, so I’m no radiological technician, but it seems pretty clear to me that X-rays can pass through neoprene. Especially if they can pass through cheap grey plastic bins. And especially considering that unless I miss my guess, the X-rays don’t pass through from the bottom of the machine, through the conveyor belt, but rather from the top or sides. You know, the part where the big tunnel is… Hey, I could be wrong, I’ll admit that. But it seems like a pretty stupid way to design the machine. Which would make sense if the TSA agent designed it. But I’m guessing he didn’t. I started to point this out, but I thought to myself, “Fuck it, it’s just a Dell.”

On a side note, I find myself getting frustrated with a lot of people. Usually it’s at their place of employment, when I’m forced to interface with them. Call me a terrible person, because you’re right, but I always take solace in one thing: They have reached the absolute pinnacle of their career. And here they are: bagging groceries, waving traffic signs, or in this case, repeating the phrase “please remove your shoes and place them in a grey plastic bin to run through the X-ray machine.” (It’s a good thing I don’t wear neoprene shoes…)

My brother reminded me that I haven’t posted in far too long. It’s not that I’ve had something better to do, I’ve just been working like crazy. So, I’m sitting at the airport at 5 in the morning and find myself with an abundance of free time (25 minutes = abundance) and I thought, “what the heck, I’ll post to my blog that nobody reads.”

I don’t really have anything creative or important to write about. So I’m going to tell you two things that I always think of, and that my girlfriend is sick of hearing me say.

1) If your job is to hold a sign, you are worthless. You’re replacing a stick. In fact, whoever hired you thought it was easier to pay you your tiny salary, than to buy a stick. This goes for the sign twirlers in front of the new condominiums everywhere you go, the guys working the mall during the holiday rush, and the (always overly dirty) people holding the “slow” signs in front of construction work on the road. I can’t possibly imagine how terrible it would feel to know that your job could be replaced by something that cavemen invented.

2) Regarding pizza boxes: the instructions should be on every side. I’ve never once pulled out a box of frozen pizza from the freezer and thought to myself, “hmmm, I sure would like to read about the history of the Totino’s brand,” or, “Gosh, I wonder what makes DiGiorno taste so good, is it their ingredients?” Never. Every single time, I’m looking for the instructions. Just the instructions. Because I want to eat some fucking pizza. So put the instructions on every side of the box. Mark my words, whichever brand figures this out first, I will only buy their pizza from now on. Imagine a perfect world where you pull a pizza out of the freezer, and right there staring back at you are baking instructions. Imagine if they weren’t hidden in tiny-ass font on the side of the box, but rather, in GIANT BOLD WRITING on every side: BAKE AT 350° FOR 12-15 MINUTES. That would rock my world.  And probably my BMI.

Also, on a total sidenote: I voted today.  For Ron Paul.  It’s sad that the exact same thing would happen whether I mail my ballot in or throw it away in the nearest trash can (actually, recycle bin, I don’t throw away paper…).  But it’s principle.  And it’s important.  I also am reading the best book ever, and I encourage you to check it out.  The Revolution: A Manifesto

About a month ago I started noticing some new airline check-in questions. They used to ask fairly intuitive questions: Are these your bags? Have you had them with you at all times? Have you been asked to carry packages from unknown individuals? Now they ask new, dumb questions. The most absurd to me is: Are you carrying any explosives?

Am I carrying explosives? Seriously?

Why don’t we just ask: Are you a terrorist? I’ll tell you why we don’t ask that; it would be dumb. Nobody would answer honestly. This of course begs the questions, who would honestly answer that, yes, they do in fact have explosives in their bags. Nobody. Obviously. So, to give them the benefit of the doubt, I’ve come up with a list of other possible reasons they may be asking if you packed explosives in your luggage this morning:

• You may have accidentally packed a pipe bomb. Hey, it happens, and not as rarely as you think. You’re tired, maybe it’s early in the morning, or you’re rushed, and you think to yourself: Toothbrush, check, belt, check, ticket, check, underwear, check (better bring a spare pair, just in case), and pipe bomb, check. When you go to check in, oooops! You’re right, I did accidentally bring a pipe bomb. Here, why don’t you just throw this away for me. And while you’re at it, here is the nail file I accidentally brought, which you’re bound to confiscate from me anyway, lest I manicure the pilots to death.
• As a courtesy to our travelers: Did you remember to bring a pipe bomb? We have spares here, which we give as a courtesy along with 1 quart plastic Ziplock bags.
• To catch you off guard. You know the routine, you’re a terrorist, you’ve been practicing answering the questions all morning: “yes, these are my bags, no I haven’t accepted a package from an unknown individual… yes, these are my bags, no I haven’t accepted a package from unknown individuals.” “Hello Mr. Al-Qaida, are you bringing any explosives with you today?” “Yes these are my bags… oh, uh… yeah, I have a bomb. Oh shit! I mean, no! No, I don’t have a bomb!”
• To reassure our passengers. Don’t worry Mr. Smith, you’ll be safe flying with us. We ask every passenger if they’re bringing explosives, and every passenger on your flight has said “no” so far.  Thanks for flying the Friendly Skies!
• Conspiracy theory: because the government doesn’t think we’re smart enough to realize what a ridiculous attempt this is to create paranoia and put enough fear into the public to continue to pump billions and billions of dollars a year into illegal wire-tapping programs on innocent sovereign citizens by insisting against all evidence that there is an imminent threat against our Multi-Trillion-Dollar-Per-Year Military by a group of cave-dwelling camel jockeys.

So, um, no. I don’t have any explosives in my luggage. I’m glad we could clear this up.

Break out your cigars and earplugs, it’s a boy! (As previously mentioned in my article about Parenting Advice) A friend and colleague of mine just gave birth to a healthy baby boy. Yep, I called it. So as is typical when learning about her exciting news, my girlfriend and I sent a small basket of flowers. With a card. Which got me thinking.

What is the right message to put in a card like that? Should it be a sympathy card (”I’m sorry for your loss… of free time.”)? A birthday card (”Yeay! You’re zero now!”)? Perhaps a get well card (”Hope you recover from your recent medical procedure”)? One of those “just because cards” (”Just because you had a baby, don’t try and drag out your time off.”)? And even though we’re friends, proper office etiquette would prevent me from saying, “Congratulations on losing all that weight!” So, maybe I should just get one of those ‘Blank Inside’ cards (” “). I’m pretty sure they’re made for times like these.

And speaking of her new boy, I sure am glad that’s what she had. Don’t get me wrong, a girl would’ve been nice too. But what if she had had a hermaphroditic baby? Because, you know, they don’t make giant mylar balloons that read: “It’s an it!” And I’m sure she’d love it, and take care of it, and be thrilled no matter what, but still, it raises all sorts of interesting questions. The most important of which is: what color do you dress a hermaphrodite baby in? Some shade of purple?

One of my friends is having a baby. She’s going to be a good parent, but as I talk to her about what she wants to do I realize that there’s a lot about raising a child that many people don’t know. As a tribute to her and her soon-to-be baby (I’m guessing it will be a boy, but all we really know is it will be a surprise. Well not a surprise per se, she knows she’s having a baby, just not what kind), I wanted to compile some of the child rearing observations that I have made.

First and foremost, you have to give it a name. The name has a big impact on what type of human the child will become, once it is done looking like an alien. Children who are named after geological formations tend to be lame-ass. So, unless you want a lame-ass (like if your other children are dumb, and you want them to look smart in comparison), you probably want to avoid names like: River, Forest, Isthmus, etc. Children named after Valentine’s gifts usually end up in the adult entertainment industry. These names include: Candy, Jasmine, Jade, Sapphire, and Cristal, among others. The one exception to this rule is “Rose.” Rose will just be a grandmother. Like, right away. Finally, mono-syllabicly named children turn into plumbers. Chuck, Jim, Bill, Tim, and Ed, will all start their careers as “apprentices”.

Another important thing to know about children is that they are irritating. They tend to cry a lot and need constant supervision. You have to “child-proof” your home, which is also annoying and tends to look silly. Plus you have to teach them everything, unless you own a TV. They don’t enjoy normal activities and are typically unwelcome at places you will want to go. Like, for example: everywhere. If you hold a baby, it is likely that you will notice that they smell gross.

There are times will you will be tempted to abandon the child in a dumpster. If you find this unacceptable, other common places to abandon your children are: malls, forests, or on the side of the freeway. If you just want to abandon them temporarily, you can leave them in your car. In some areas, it may be advisable to leave your hazard lights on, so that other people know it’s only temporary. This is primarily only important in heavily Catholic or Mormon or affluent areas, as those types of people are always looking for stray children to adopt. In poor areas, this is unnecessary, but it may be inconvenient to drive to a poor part of town.

As children age, they often become unruly or disobedient or gay. This is your cue that you haven’t instilled a proper sense of fear in them. While time consuming, it may be necessary to beat them for several hours each day. If they start acting better, don’t let up, it might be a trick. This also shows them that you love them.

If you have a boy, you should encourage him to have sex as early and often as possible. It’s advisable to watch him at least once, just to make sure he’s not just “acting straight”. Once you’re convinced he enjoys it, your job is mostly done and you are free to release him into the wild.

On the other hand, if you are unfortunate enough to have a girl, you must keep her from having any contact at all with boys, and must remain constantly vigilant. If she ever sees a boy she will get pregnant and there will be at least one more child who will annoy you.

This is just the tip of the iceberg. There are many more strategies for raising children, most of which involves trying not to have them in the first place. For a scientific look on children, see the Children article on Uncyclopedia.org.

I got the rudest call today. A man called up and asked for “Theresa McLellan”. Theresa used to own my phone number. I’m not Theresa. I’ve never met Theresa. I wish Theresa paid her bills on time. I get a lot of calls for Theresa from various debt collectors. For the most part, they’re very polite, and I always wish them the best of luck. Debt collecting isn’t an easy job, but it’s important. And besides, people should pay their bills.

Back on point, this man calls up and asks for Theresa. Being a gentleman, I politely reply that he, unfortunately, has the wrong number. He says, “Well then who are you?” with this snotty, irritating tone of voice. I give him my first name and assure him that no one by the name “Theresa” lives here. Then, and I find this truly shocking, he demands to know my last name. Now look, I don’t mean to act like there’s no way to find out somebody’s name, or that it’s any kind of top secret information, but that’s just rude. I mean, he called me. So, I reply, “Sir, you called me. You’ve dialed the wrong number, good luck reaching your intended party.”

As I reach to hang up I hear him speaking and pull the receiver back to my ear. To my amazement, he’s still yelling at me to identify myself. I genuinely cannot believe that someone could be so rude. Especially on the job. So… I decided to play a game. Imagining that he probably makes extra money by successfully collecting debts, I decided to waste as much of his time as I possibly could. I put the phone on speaker mode, sat back, and tried to keep him on the phone as long as possible (which was exactly12 minutes and 17 seconds as it turns out). I would say things like, “Well, I don’t know Theresa, but if I meet her, what should I say to her.” And, “Are you sure Theresa is a woman?” And, “Don’t you kinda wonder what Theresa is doing right now, at this very minute?” It was strangely satisfying.

By the way, Theresa, if you’re out there, please call I.C. Systems, Inc at 651-204-1361. Ask for the asshole. Hopefully that will help them direct you to the right guy.

In what I hope is the final installment of the Mexicana series, Jaime finally comes through. I think you’ll enjoy the following letter that accompanied my check (make especially sure you read the third paragraph):

Dear Mr. YankeeTag:

This will acknowledge receipt of your letter wherein you informed us about lost of your baggage with MEXICANA flight connection MX307 route: Mexico - Cancun, in October 02, 2007.

In regard to your delay luggage compensation request, enclosed find our check number XXXXXX with charge to the JPMorgan Chase Bank, in the amount of $540.00 USCY (five hundred forty 00/100USCY) as full and final settlement for your claim.

Please be informed that your claim has been adjusted in accordance with regulations Governing International Travel. These regulations, which are part of the Conditions of Contract outlined on each ticket and contained in the provisions on the Warsaw Convention.

Please accept our sincere apologies for the inconvenience you reported. We hope that you will give us another opportunity to prove we can serve you in a completely satisfactory manner.

Sincerely,
Jaime Suarez Lopez

Aside from the irritation that they can’t find anyone to even proofread the form letter they routinely send out, this letter is a little insulting.

First, it shouldn’t take from October 2, 2007 to February 14, 2008 to rectify the fact that some minimum wage employee (do they even have a minimum wage in Mexico?) looted my belongings.

Second, they called it my “delay luggage compensation request”. I guess we’ll have to chalk this one up to a translation error. See, in real English, ‘delayed’ means it came later than expected. I think the word they were looking for is ‘extremely reasonable lost’ (In context: “your [extremely reasonable lost] luggage compensation request”).

Finally, I don’t know which I find more offensive: a) that lost airline baggage was a topic at the WARSAW CONVENTION, or b) that this was handled in accordance with the regulations they decided on there.

See the letter Mexicana sends you when they lose $1,000 dollars worth of stuff you own.

Comcast, the only true high-speed internet option in my area, is not an option for me. There are two reasons for this:

1. Comcast gave my name and information to some copyright protection group working for the TV networks, because I downloaded one episode of the Office, and one episode of House, M.D. through torrents. I hate Comcast, and will not use them.
2. Also, they don’t offer service at my address.

So I didn’t really want to use Comcast, but not having high-speed internet just might kill me. Oh, and before I forget, Qwest: stop telling people you offer highspeed. 1.5 Mbps is not high speed. That’s not any kind of speed. That sucks.

So, I’m going to have slow internet. At least until somebody invents a way to make Comcast not suck, or for Qwest to go fast.