Thursday, April 30, 2009

Things That Chap My Ass About Clueless Morons

The human race has stopped evolving.

No, wait, that’s wrong.

Human intelligence has stopped evolving.

Yep, evolving I said and evolving I meant.

And don’t start in with that whole, but, Jim we don’t believe in evolution, we think the human race was intelligently designed crap either. Intelligently designed? Take a look around. We’re ass deep in clueless morons, you can probably see four or five from where you’re sitting right now, and it’s getting worse. Intelligently designed? Sure, maybe a few folks were designed by intelligence, but the evidence at hand would seem to indicate that the rest of the human race was just thrown together like a bland tasteless meatloaf made from whatever crap God happened to have in the fridge.

Seriously, folks, if God did made the idiots I run into every day, well, I’m guessing He was either hungover or doing it while he was talking to somebody else on the phone and not really paying attention.

On the face of it, evolution is a whole lot more likely.

Evolution is based on the concept of survival of the fittest. Now, people have managed to pervert that concept into all kinds of stupidity and most completely fail to understand what “fittest” means in the context of evolution – but still the concept is valid. See what that phrase actually means is that the process of natural selection over time increases the probability that those creatures with characteristics favorable to survival in the current environment will, well, survive. And have kids. And pass those characteristics on to the next generation.

See basically, evolution is the process of getting rid of idiots.

Take rabbits for example. Predators love rabbits. Everything eats rabbits – hawks, eagles, wolves, coyotes, bears, lynx, bobcats, weasels, lawyers. Everything. A rabbit doesn’t have big claws, or razor sharp spines, or the ability to spit poison or operate a flamethrower. A rabbit has basically one defense – sit absolutely still, if discovered run like hell and zigzag a lot – usually though, the running doesn’t really help. It’s the sitting still and being verwy verwy quiet part that is the rabbit’s actual defense. Now in any group, there’s always one jackass. The stupid loud guy, i.e. the clueless moron. You know him, he’s the guy who spent a weekend in the hospital after shooting bottle rockets out of his ass like he saw those guys on MTV doing. Yeah, that guy. Every group has one. Even rabbits. Take a colony of rabbits, sitting down at the local Starbucks, enjoying a lettuce frapachino. In walks a large hungry red fox. The rabbits freeze. The fox, being in a hurry, doesn’t notice them and goes over to the counter to order – and bang! the door flies open and in hops Fluffy, the booger eating rabbit, completely oblivious to the danger. The other rabbits motion frantically towards the fox, freeze Stupid, freeze! But Fluffy doesn't get the message. “Yo! Fellas! What’s Up! Why so serious? Why so serious? Who’s up for a game of ‘chicken’ with the Bald Eagles?” and that’s the end of that (it also explains why you find rabbit hair and little globs of flesh under the seats at Starbucks. Nature is brutal at the watering hole, kids. What? Well, it depends on the Starbucks. Sure). See, evolution is about weeding out the idiots.

The problem is that once a species evolves intelligence then it’s very likely that the process of natural evolution stops.

Now, admittedly we’re working from a single sample here, and not a particularly good one. But it would appear that once a species evolves enough intelligence to eliminate predation this allows the idiots to breed, and they do. A lot. And as a result there ends up being a lot more idiots. Need an example? Australia. A while back some idiot brought rabbits to Australia. Now for some damned reason and despite the fact that every goddamned thing in the rest of the world eats rabbits, as it turns out nothing in Australia does. Nothing. They've got some pretty weird creatures in Australia, and not one of them eats rabbit, including Australians (who mostly exist solely on beer and headbutting). It didn't take long for Australia to be overrun with rabbits. I've been there, you literally have to wade hip deep through the damn things. The entire continent is slowly settling under the weight of billions and billions of bunnies. Here's the thing (and you didn't think I had a point did you?), a lot of them are retarded. Rabbits that would have gotten weeded out of the gene pool like Fluffy up above, survived and went on to marry idiot female rabbits with big hair and boob jobs and have a whole shitload of idiot children. Remove the predators, allow the goofy bastards to breed willy nilly, and you eventually end up ass deep in idiots. That's what happens when you screw with the natural order.

Allow me to illustrate:

I had to go into to town yesterday.

I stopped by the Post Office.

The Palmer Post Office.

You know what I think of the Palmer Post Office.

Yesterday’s visit didn’t change that impression one bit, and if anything reinforced it.

See it started with the whole bait and switch thing in the parking lot.

The empty parking lot.

Woohoo! Thought I as I pulled into the parking lot, there’s nobody here! How often does that happen? (well, OK, once a week. On Sunday. You got me there). I looked through the windows as I walked - clutching my package, hope in my heart, sun on my shoulder, the wind in my hair -towards the door, and there was nobody in line.

Holy Mackerel, I though, it’s the Rapture. Finally. I’ve got the place all to myself.

I made the woohoo sound again, maybe more than once.

Well, turns out it wasn’t the Rapture after all, damn the luck (and really, when is that going to happen? Sooner would be better, there’s a lot of born again assholes I’d like to see sucked right up into space, just sayin’). There was one person at the window.

Hey, only one person? Usually the damned line is twenty or thirty people long, one person is great!

Turns out, it depends entirely on the person.

Because see, the woman at the counter was actually the poster child for frozen evolution. The veritable queen of cluelessness. Somebody who should have been run down and eaten by saber-tooth cats long ago.

She had packages. Lots and lots of packages. I don’t know how many, but it was a lot. Big ones, small ones, tall ones, short ones, round ones, rectangular ones, odd sized ones, regular sized ones, oversized ones. Some were actual postal boxes, some were recycled from a previous life, covered in scratched out bar codes and addresses and a label for canned peas (1 dz, canned, green, packaged for individual resale). They all had one thing in common though – they weren’t addressed. She was doing that at the counter. I watched, clenching my fists, as she filled out address labels one at a time, slowly and laboriously and oblivious that anybody was in line behind her.

She chatted with the postman while she filled out the labels. Nice weather we’re having, isn’t it?

Others arrived and formed a queue behind me.

They made comments, only one person in line. Woohoo and so on and so forth. Foolish, hopeful people.

She wanted insurance.

Behind me in line, a guy began to cough. No, not like cough to clear your throat, more cough like he was infected with swine flu. Hack, hack, cough, cough, wheeze, hurrrumph, cough, hack, snork! And here’s another sickly bastard who should have been pulled apart by dire wolves long ago. Do us all a big favor, would you Bobo? Stay the fuck home, I don’t appreciate being covered in your mucus and chunks of your fecund lung tissue.

She needed delivery confirmation.

Cough, wheeze, hack, snork!

Another evolutionary dead end arrived, this time in the person of a large hirsute type with a giant mug of coffee in one hand. Literally, one of those ass crack construction types who carry the obligatory mug big enough for an entire pot of coffee – you know the sweaty asshole who takes the entire pot of the good stuff and leaves you with nothing but day old decaf. He then proceeded to slurp loudly, and smack his lips after each gulp.

She wanted stamps.

Cough cough, wheeze wheeze, hack, snork! Slurp! Slurp! Gulp Smack. Gulp ahhh smack. Snork!

Anything else, Ma’am? No? Your total is…

Cough, cough, wheeze, hack snork! Slurp gulp slurp smack smack. Snork!

She fumbled in her purse and finally pulled out a checkbook.

Somebody started tapping impatiently on the package desk. Tap tap tap.

Cough, cough, tap tap, wheeze, hack snork! Slurp gulp slurp ahhh smack smack. Tap Tap. Snork!

If the next person through the door was playing a kazoo and carrying a banjo we’d have a complete bluegrass ensemble.

A checkbook.

A goddamned checkbook. The bitch was going to write a check.

We’re damned near a decade into the 21st Century, and the clueless bitch is writing a check? I mean, come on, it’s like paying your taxes to the King’s Factor with a couple of bushels of hand threshed wheat and a brace of rabbits. It’s 2009 for crying out loud, can we please get the hell rid of checks?

Cough, cough, Tap Tap, wheeze, hack snork! Slurp gulp slurp smack smack. Tap Tap. Snork!

I hate check writers. I hate them with the passionate heat of a thousand fiery evangelical ministers denying that they were caught snorting cocaine off a gay prostitute’s ass.

What’s the date today?

Gulp tap tap gulp, slurp. Snork!

Make it out to who?

Wheeze wheeze, pardon my phlegm, hack. Slurp! Tap. Tap, wheeze.

How much was it again?

Cough, cough, wheeze, hack snork! Slurp gulp slurp smack smack. Tap Tap Snork! Everybody now, you know the words!

Now we get to the rest of it. See you can’t just write a check, can you? Oh hell no.

She proceeds to fill out the check resister and balance her checkbook.

I swear to the Intelligent Designer – this, this is the best you can do? Seriously? Excuse me while I roll my eyes in derision.


What we need here folks is to get evolution back on track.

How do we do that, Jim? I hear you ask.

Folks, it’s simple really.

First we need some saber-toothed cats and a couple of dire wolves…


  1. Somehow I just KNEW you had been to the post office today.

    I usually use the brown store - never a line and the folks there know what they're doing. All my Christmas stuff took about 15 minutes last year - that's from parking to paying...

    Next time take a video cam - could be interesting to see - in a drive-by-the-wreck-slowly kind of way.

  2. What the hell have you got against bluegrass?

  3. What the hell have you got against bluegrass
    Mostly the kazoo

  4. Possibly the best argument against Intelligent Design I've seen all year.

    I am totally linking to this from someplace else!

  5. Link away, Scott.

    Just as long as it's not to the PETA forum. I've had about enough of them thank you.

  6. I like to write checks thank you very much!

    Of course, I get everything but the amount filled in while I'm standing in line or my order is being rung up.

  7. Jim, I think I have to be the devil's advocate (apt, since I'm an atheist lawyer) and point out that you prove too much:

    1) God made man in His own image.
    2) Most human beings appear to be complete and total idiots.

    Do you see how those two propositions taken together elegantly solve the problem of evil, the reason men hit and women hit their respective sexual peaks at ages when they'd never actually have anything to do with one another, the reason for the human appendix, the function of belly-button lint and why the duck-billed platypus appears to be made entirely from leftovers.

    In a single blog post, you've inadvertently stumbled across the end of all knowledge. Seriously. There's no point in physics anymore. (How did the universe begin? God's a retard.) Or philosophy. (What is the meaning of life? God's a retard.) Even the arts are now worthless: what's the point of making a joyous sound unto the Lord or creating a masterful expression of human existence captured in marble or oils when God's too dumb to appreciate it and would rather watch probably rather watch a Michael Bay movie instead?

    Thanks, Jim. In your attempt to express the truth of evolution by natural selection, you've stumbled across an incontrovertible theistic "theory of everything." Is there any question conceivable to humanity that can't be answered with the response, "You know, God's just not that bright."

    Guess I have to go convert to some kind of religion thing. So much for all my future Sundays, Easters, and Christmas Eves off.

  8. Hey - this answers my email question from earlier, I think. And, I thank you for enduring this without murdering anyone. Although it might be a net gain to the universe...

  9. Jim, that hurt. I mean my sides are still hurting, I can't breath and I'm sure the neighbors thought I was being mutilated, and...a, back in a sec...

    But BOY did I need that ROFLOL. or something like that. Too funny.

    We draw straws in our office between the assistants...who gets to go stand in line so the postal orafice can certify legal missives on the FIRST of the month. Which is tomorrow and MY boss is out of town.

    So I'm safe, our other assistant is out sick, and the other two get to fight - one get the PO detail the other the dishes in the community kitchen because THIS assistant has done a SINKFUL of cups & glasses every night this week and we no NOT have a WENDY-clean kithcen, we are supposed to have a self clean one.

    Got my small revenge tonight though...did the dishes, washed the coffeemaker and all its parts, but did not reassemble and set the timer. Do it your self you lazy slobs. I had a bus to catch...

    I'm down to one check a month, for rent & complex services, just because I don't want some 'puter grabbing that much money out of my account without me knowing if the direct deposit hit first! And a couple checks other times because I really don't like PayPal, so write a check to the charities I support from time to time.

    More later, I've GOT to go rest!


  10. "was just thrown together like a bland tasteless meatloaf made from whatever crap God happened to have in the fridge."

    Well, you know, we were the very last thing he/she created. So, yeah, we're made up of the Ikea leftovers from all the other furniture.

    And actually, we're still evolving (skin coloration, etc) but not fast enough (larger babies because we have better nutrition). Also, we've killed off most of the dire wolves and cougars, and except for the giant tsetse flies in South America, birds and insects no longer carry us off.

  11. Steve, you obviously haven't seen Alaskan mosquitoes - they're large enough to carry off a full grown bull moose. And they work in teams...

  12. Isn't the Alaskan mosquito your state bird?


  13. Not a kazoo to be found anywhere!


  14. Japanese Bluegrass? Good lord, man, just stop it now. The only thing that video was missing was a lead singer in a little school girl outfit.

    Wendy, the mosquitoes ate the state bird.

  15. Eric, I think you're on the right track, but you've got your cause wrong. God isn't stupid, He's mean.

    I mean come on, putting two humans in the Garden and saying "eat anything you like, but don't touch that one apple". The end result was foreordained, even if you do believe in free will. :D

    And from that proposition we can say that Jim is surrounded by booger eating morons not because God's an idiot, but because, well, Jim's an asshole and God hates him. More than the rest of us.

  16. Believe me, John, when I tell you that thought crossed my mind. More than once. Usually when I'm at the Post Office.

  17. "I like to write checks thank you very much!

    Of course, I get everything but the amount filled in while I'm standing in line or my order is being rung up."

    That's OK. If you do that, then the transaction time is not much more than a credit card. Sometimes less, if the phone lines are slow. If it's a full-service lane.

    But you'd better not be standing in front of me in the Express Lane if you do that, because the stores around here run them through the receipt printer to print some sort of code and the clerks never get the thing seated right. Express Lane != check. Ever.

    Most especially you'd better not be in the self-checkout Express Lane ane with a check, and not only have to scan the items and then write the check sequentially, but then wait for the one clerk working the 6 automated lanes to come back from a smoke break and take your money. Because the payment options on the automated screen do not include "check" for a reason. That is a justifiable cause for homicide.

    Although close behind the check-writers are the people who don't know how to operate their own debit cards. No, you can't use it if you don't remember your PIN, moron.

    And the check-writer might not just be technophobic, Jim, they might have screwed up their credit so bad somewhere along the line that the bank won't even issue them a debit card. If so, one more piece of evidence for unfitness.

  18. Over here, people who screw up their credit really bad aren't even allowed to associate with banks. No checking account, no checks. They have to beg friends and relatives to turn their pay into cash.

    I'm glad my local post office is fairly speedy and the staff friendly. But look on the bright side - you get blog posts out of yours. :D

  19. John, I'll be damned before I'll use the self checkout lane.

    I have no desire to have actual human beings replaced with me doing all the work. And it's not like the costs go down, since instead of paying a human they're maintaining a damned machine.

    But you probably wouldn't want to be in line behind me anyway, because I like to chat with the person checking me out (assuming they're chatty).

    Also? I refuse to own a debit card. I have two ATM cards, and credit cards, but no debit cards. I have to type in my pin for ATM purchases at the grocery store. Debit they just swipe and go. And if someone has swiped my debit card, then they can drain my checking account and bounce my checks and so on and so forth.

    And although I pay off our credit cards in their entirety every month, I still have issues paying for groceries with a credit card. It just hits me the wrong way and makes me feel like I'm struggling to make ends meet again. (shrug)

  20. Jim: fear not. As a rule, I don't troll, and would certainly never victimize anyone else by proxy (or something; though I did just use Facebook, so maybe that's the same thing).

    Smacking creationists with a clue-by-four in their own blogs' comment threads doesn't count.

  21. Smacking creationists with a clue-by-four in their own blogs' comment threads doesn't count.Well, no, Scott, of course not. That's more like a public service. And I for one would like to thank you for it.

  22. Oh man, Michelle, I'm in the grocery store usually on an errand after spending more than 5 hours of my life that day commuting. People who chat up the clerks in front of me in the grocery store at at 8PM while I picking up milk for the kids, after having spent 2 hrs 45 minutes on the mobile hell that is Metro North and I-95, get a HUGE hairy eyeball from me. Because the longer I take there the less time I have with the kids, and since their bedtime is 8:30, that's not a lot in any case. (And by 8PM there's usually only 2 clerks in the store).

    I don't mind the unmanned line because my time is usually worth as much or more to me than whatever it is I'm buying, and anything that gets me out of the store faster is welcome. I don't care if it saves them money because it saves me time - that's a win-win for both me and the store. I just seem to have Jim's luck about going for the "whoo whoo, only one person in the fast lane" line, and then having them be the person who has never, ever used an automated line, and has decided that they are going to learn right now. Yes, dipshit, if the barcode is underneath your hand when you scan the item, the machine won't read it.

    God hates me, too, Jim.

  23. Well, see, my problem with the robot checkout line is that it talks. I fucking hate that. I hate it. I don't want machines to talk to me. And in fact I hate it so much that next week I'll probably do a "Things that chap my ass about talking robots" post.

    And I hate check writers. I just do. Sorry, Michelle, but I purely hate people who write checks when there are people in line behind them. They never have the damned thing filled out in advance. They never have two forms of ID ready. They always have to fill out the register right there, even though there's a fucking carbon copy. Seriously would it kill these people to wait until they're out in the car or or something? And they always have the same dumb excuse, if I don't do it right now I'll forget - fuck, how do they get through life? It just takes forever, and when there's ten people in line and they're all fussy old ladies writing checks and totaling up their registers it takes an extra twenty damned minutes. It makes me fucking insane.

    Of course, there's always debit card Debby who can't find her card. Heh heh, sorry, I know it's in here somewhere. fumble fumble. Hey! Here's a fucking idea, how about cleaning out that overstuffed duffel bag you call a purse? Half these women got more shit stuffed in their purses than a D-day paratrooper had drop equipment. And most of it is just about as useful too. And the ones that really chap my ass are the ones who carry around a fucking miniature dog in their purses and we have to put up with that silly shit. Argh!

  24. John, I don't set *foot* in the grocery store on week-day evenings if I can possibly help it. First thing Saturday morning is when I do my shopping, and we take Grandmom late Sunday morning or early Saturday afternoons. Early Saturday morning there are few people, and usually *zero* screaming kids.

    And what's the time difference between filling out the amount on a check and signing a credit card receipt?

    I think y'all have been too far north for entirely too long.

  25. "And what's the time difference between filling out the amount on a check and signing a credit card receipt?"

    Around here they have to put the check in the printer. It never goes through the first time. And what Jim said about the IDs. Not to mention that no one has the damn check filled out. All the checkouts here have the electronic signing for CCs and Debits - I can have that signed before the clerk is finished bagging, even with me helping to bag. I can also swipe the card before the transaction is done so it goes even faster for me. Clerk's gotta finish bagging and then fiddle with the damn check for the check-writers. If they've finished filling it out by that time. Which they haven't.

    In a line of 10 at the Wal-Mart, there's always 3 or 4 check writers. And the lines are never just 10 people. The check-writers add at least another 15 minutes to the already horrible Wal-Mart experience, which I can't avoid without wasting gas and even more time.

    The one thing I don't miss about the South is the attitude towards time. But then, commutes are a hell of a lot shorter and there's fewer people down there. Believe me, when there's 2 clerks and a line of 50 Damn Yankees in each lane, and you've just finished an hour drive after an almost 2 hour train ride, the stopping to chat becomes a lot less endearing and a lot more of a sign of cluelessness.

    Double on the damn weekends, when all the retired people who should have been shopping at 11:00 on a weekday, decide to go out and mix it up with the working stiffs because they've shopped on a Saturday their entire lives. And they're usually the ones who decide today's the day they're going to learn how to use the new-fangled automatic checkout, when there is a line of 20 people with kids behind them, and when the only form of payment they have is a check.

  26. You have to show ID to write a check? Really? I haven't done that in ages!

    There are several stores that have credit card machines that if you swipe your card before they are done ringing up, they have to start over again.

    50 people in a line? Really? I'm much happier if there are fewer than 50 people in the entire store (including employees) when I go shopping.

  27. Just for John, perhaps I'll twitter how many people are at the grocery store tomorrow morning. ;)

  28. Hah. When you wonder why people up North are so short tempered (and I used to before I moved up here), take a look at population densities.

    And "dense" applies in more ways than one. :(

  29. The one thing I don't miss about the South is the attitude towards time. But then, commutes are a hell of a lot shorter and there's fewer people down there. Believe me, when there's 2 clerks and a line of 50 Damn Yankees in each lane, and you've just finished an hour drive after an almost 2 hour train ride, the stopping to chat becomes a lot less endearing and a lot more of a sign of cluelessnessJohn, is that the rural South you're talking about? Because in Charlotte (and in Raleigh, for that matter) you can easily find yourself in the worst of both worlds, and I assume that's true in Atlanta and other Southern cities as well: a long commute to stand in a long line that's made even longer by some sweet-but-misplaced elderly cashier taking her time to engage in a lengthy conversation with somebody who--sorry, Michelle!--is carefully penning a check.

    Which, most of the time, I don't necessarily mind. Even in the urban and suburban South you frequently find this sort of Zenlike state where the wait, if annoying, is at least worth the trade-off of being rung up at the register by someone who calls every single human being who walks past her "darling" or "sweetie" or some similar endearment just by default. People are nicer down here.

    But shorter commutes and fewer people? Heh. Uhm, no. Well, maybe out in the country, I suppose. And granted, "fewer" is relative--I mean, sure, there are fewer people in Charlotte than New York City, but for the purposes of what we're talking about, lots is lots.

    (I just checked the pop. of Charlotte out of curiosity--it's around 700k--and learned something: Charlotte's the 19th biggest city in the U.S. Atlanta is 33rd, with around 500k. D.C. has 5.3M (ranking 8th) by comparison, and NYC is (unsurprisingly) 1st with 18.8M.)

  30. (And yes, population density is much lower down here. While that's probably better for our mental health, it also means we have sprawl and half-assed public transit, so as far as commutes go, any time gains tend to get canceled.)

    (I'm not saying we don't have it better in so many ways down here--we do. It's just that I think sometimes John and I are from completely different Souths. And we probably are, actually. The South he sometimes describes is a place I have to drive to. :-) )

  31. I don't think you're even close to the big leagues in commute times, Eric. Nor in density. I've driven Atlanta at rush hour, and I can't imagine Charlotte's much worse.

    It just seems bad to you, because you have more people than the hill country around you. It's relative. Most people on my floor have a greater than 90 minute commute. One way.

    Believe me, the only places I've seen worse than NYC are London and Tokyo. DC kinda sorta comes close on a bad day. Maybe. The left coast certainly matches in LA and San Fran, but I've only driven in San Fran twice, never in LA.

    And I forgot to add that the cashier squinting at the ID up here is likely to be, well I'll give Wal-Mart the benefit of the doubt and say immigrant without the "illegal" in front of it, after my MIL does work there, now. But still, even more delays, especially since my state does not issue a new license when you move, just a sticker that often rubs off so the address on THE GODDAMN CHECK AND LICENSE DON"T MATCH...

    Sorry, need a long run and a fewh beers (in that order, done it the other way around, not nearly as much fun after the fifth of each).

  32. John,

    On the off chance they've looked at my ID when I'm writing a check, they're looking to see if the names and pictures match.

    Addresses are immaterial. Until I got married, I kept my parents home address on my license so I didn't have to pay for a new license every year when I moved. And in Mo-town, students primarily have local bank accounts and out of state checks.

    So the glance is to see if the check book matches to recipient, not to check the address. (Even if they don't look at my ID, I often get asked if the address on my check is current.)

  33. Okay. That was amusing. I think. But how do you expect me to keep track of all those details from beginning to end?

  34. Heh, whatever the kid gave me had me not running on all cylinders this weekend. I missed the obvious WV joke: Michelle, up here not everyone in the store is a second cousin or closer, so they do check IDs. :D

    And yes, they do insist the addresses match up here. Unfortunately, there are a lot of people changing addresses to skip out on debts lately. And when the checker barely speaks English, you can see how rapidly the transaction time increases for check writers, and hence the irritation of the gen pop with check writers.

  35. One of the reasons l LOVE reading the Darwin Awards and yet HATE to leave the sanctity of my home, l become too vocal about the idiots, and they just irk me to the point of distraction where l just want to bash them over the head with my walking stick, but l know without a word of a lie it would NOT improve their evolutionary chances. No they have to all come out the day l do and torment me. Some day l will get them, this l pledge...
    Veronica Bingham - facebook


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