Twisted Spinster

So you can take that cookie… Hey, Oliver, here’s news: Hitler didn’t “do it for the money” either. Asshole.

As if the empty-platitudes campaign platform wasn’t enough, apparently a vote for Obama is another signature on his death warrant. I’m sorry, but as a responsible American citizen, I can’t have his impending assassination on my conscience. As for all of you who are planning to vote for him, I wonder how you can sleep at night! Well, actually, I know that you frequently stay awake all night, biting your handkerchiefs and sobbing in fear for your god. The funny thing is, there’s an easy way out of your dilemma! Don’t vote for him! Remember, a vote for anyone else is a vote for keeping Obama alive!

Semi-related.

Don’t say I never gave you nuthin’ — I do believe I’ve found my (better looking) alter ego:

There’s more neat stuff here. And now what I would really like is for some nice person to make me a WordPress Steampunk theme. I’d do it, but I seem to have lost the necessary patience to fool around with web page design that I once had. Or I’ll just take a raygun — a working model.

…that I have the BEST internet readers. Really. You guys rock.

I tried to read through this story of a whiny, guilty white Canadian guy — boring singer and songwriter Dan Hill, who is responsible for this interval of fetid mush (which song is on my special “nuke them from space, just to make sure” list) — and his failed efforts to prove to his son he can get “down with the brothers” better than those racist Americans, but I got bored. Sorry. (Via Kathy Shaidle, who isn’t impressed either.)

PS: thanks for all the donations! I might eventually be able to make up for the arm and kidney I had to give H&R Block today…

Argh. I got a call from one of the temp agencies I signed up with — they had a job available. I called back, left a message… and when the woman at the agency called me back she said they were waiting on a call from the employer, who told them they “might have filled the position on their own.” She will let me know. Argh.

Thanks to everyone who has donated to my fundraiser. Just a note: both Paypal and Amazon do not reveal your financial information to me. I just get, at most, a name and email address. (And I don’t usually get anything from the Amazon link — so all of you who have donated via that way, this is a generic thank you to you all.)

Anyway, I’m off to get ready to go over to H&R Block. It looks like I’m getting a tax refund this year, and despite the cost I’m going to have to go with their tax refund loan thingie. I hate the big chunk of money I’m going to lose, but I need the cash now. It’s not a very big refund, because I chose not to have taxes taken out of my unemployment every week, but every little bit helps.

I will try to post something non-boring that is not about my pathetic life later. Pinky swear.

Dig this awesome lizard. If it could breathe fire it would be perfect. Oh okay, and had some wings. (Via, further via.)

Psst: I’m having a fundraiser. No, it’s not to buy cool lizard pets. Though this one would sure give my cats some exciting moments…

Well folks, I am in a hole. Still no job — if the crowds at any place I apply to are any indication, half the city is out of work — and my spare funds have finally been depleted. Here’s the plan: I need to stay in this apartment at least until my lease ends. That will be at the end of April. Hopefully by then I’ll have some kind of employment, because otherwise I won’t be able to move. I plan to move to much cheaper digs — I moved here only because it was convenient to the last job I had — but I’ll need at least part of my security back. If I get tossed I won’t get any of it back and I’ll be in the hole for lease breakage and legal fees.

So anyway, if everyone who reads my site donated a dollar, I could… I don’t know, buy lunch. But every little bit helps.

On the up side, I am getting job offers, of a sort — mostly come-ons for sales positions. In other words, they aren’t job offers. In any case, I refuse to do sales, because I can’t sell; the thought of selling anything to anyone makes me physically nauseous. I can’t seem to even sell myself (when I went to write up my resume and came to the part where I have to write down all the things I can do my mind went blank, as usual). Besides, it’s easy to promise someone a sales position, because you can base their pay on their sales and dump them if they don’t make any, and commission is taxed up the yin yang (I have worked with salespeople so I know the score), and I’d rather dig ditches. It’s steadier work.

Oh yeah — and then there are the emails that lead you to a website that is nothing but a come-on for various “universities” of the sort that used to be advertised on the back of matchbooks (you know, the ones where you could get “degrees at home in your spare time” in things like locksmithing). Yeah, that really made me feel great.

Anyway, I went to yet another placement agency yesterday, where there was a huge crowd of people. I felt slightly reassured by the fact that I was the only one there wearing business casual instead of one-grade-up-from-hobo-wear. I mean, you’re applying for a job and you can’t even bother to comb your hair and put on a pair of slacks? It was baggy jeans city. And there was a woman in jeans shorts. On the other hand, this was a placement agency, not the actual place where you would get interviewed by the actual employer. Yeah, this is how they do things now: you turn in your paperwork, fill out some forms, and they’ll “go through the paperwork” and “call you in a few days.” I’ve been waiting for calls for five months.

But this brings me to the sad fact that Western Civilization is dead. How do I know that? It’s not that men are pigs — that would indicate a level of self-awareness not to mention knowledge of a recognized rule of civilized behavior that was being broken. No, men aren’t pigs anymore, they are simply unaware of the fact that when a woman walks into the room and there are no chairs, then the first young, strong, able male that sees her should stand up and offer her his chair. But there they sat, like piles of washing (which is what those baggy clothes make everyone look like), while I just stood there feeling like an idiot. And then it happened. Another young, baggy-clothes-wearing man came in. (If I’d been sitting down I’d have offered him my chair. I am polite.) Then suddenly the strains of a song burst into the room: “I like big butts and I cannot lie…”

That sound you hear isn’t just a cell phone ringtone, it’s the theme song of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse.

Well, well. So Castro is “retiring.” Call me cynical, but I suppose we’ll soon get news that he’s “peacefully died in his sleep.” Then they’ll put him in a glass display box, like Lenin, the better for his celebrity admirers to be photographed weeping over his corpse. I know how these things go.

(If I still lived in Miami I would have been apprised of this the moment I woke up — though it looks like even the Cuban-American community is sick of Castro — but living in Orlando means I had to find out about this from an Australian blog.)

Update: more from Babalu Blog.

Second update: I suppose I should clarify that I meant the Cuban-American community in Miami seems to be sick of “Castro will be gone real soon now!” news, not to imply that they’d ever been fans of the man. See Steve H. for more.

Barak Obama must be really good in bed. I can’t think of any other reason why a woman would be utter the following sycophantic rants about her own husband:

“For the first time in my adult life, I am proud of my country, because it feels like hope is making a comeback.” (Via.)

And:

“Barack Obama is the only person in this who understands that. That before we can work on the problems, we have to fix our souls. Our souls are broken in this nation.” (Via.)

An alternate explanation could be that Michelle Obama is a psychopath — in which case I hope he only allows spoons at the dinner table. People who want to vote for Jesus — I mean, Obama, might want to reflect what it will be like having a nutso First Lady. I can see her now, taking a shiv to the first reporter to be less than hagiographic in his questioning… the extra security guards… the ever-changing list of medications… Since it’s looking more and more like our need to be loved by the world’s soaks and grifters will make his election a shoe-in, I think I’d better stock up on pop corn.

(Update: fixed the stupid error in the second “via” link. Sorry!)