On January 11, flooding and mudslides in Rio de Janeiro killed 903. See, eleven days old, and 2011 is already giving humanity two giant middle fingers. Oh snap! Eleventh day, eleventh year, two fingers that look like “eleven.” If ever there was a time for The Twilight Zone theme music…

Only a month into the Arab Spring, and 96-year old fitness superhero Jack LaLanne was the first celebrity casualty. We all know early spring is when you can catch your death from pneumonia, and that’s what happened. Don’t fuck around with “new moan ya,” as my Dad liked to say.

In February, Whidbey Island saw nine inches of snow fall and parts of Skagit County saw close to two feet. That didn’t stop me from 4-wheeling it to work, where I saw many dumb-asses stranded on the side of the highway. The next day, while heading to work, I slipped on the stairs outside my house and bruised the shit out of my ass! Holy hell, if you ever have the opportunity to drop all your weight, tailbone first, onto a concrete set of stairs, I highly recommend you pass.

Other ass-breaking news in February saw IPv4 officially run out of IP address. 4,294,967,296 address gone in 30 years? What pigs are we? Thankfully, IPv6 will save our collective asses. If we exhaust 340 trillion, trillion, trillion IPv6 addresses, then we need to put an end to all these goddamn iPhones and iPads.

On March 11, an epic Pokémon battle triggered the 9.1-magnitude Tōhoku earthquake and caused tsunami flooding that killed nearly 20,000 people and a duck. Thousands more were homeless, as this photo from Japanese news outlets clearly shows. The earthquake also caused a huge nuclear accident. If the Simpsons taught us anything, it’s that funny little yellow people can’t run a nuclear power plant.

In March, Cleopatra and Geraldine Ferraro died, but no one knew about it because of Charlie Sheen‘s mental breakdown. Under a fog of anti-semetic rants and bottles of tiger’s blood, Sheen accused GOP candidate Herman Cain of sexually molesting him. Winning!

In April, Dixie Alley witnessed 753 tornadoes that killed 364 people. It was later discovered that all the hot air from Ron Paul‘s GOP “Campaign of Crazy Ideas” caused the twister outbreak. By the end of April, nearly one third of the world’s population watched the Royal inbreeding wedding in London. Not because they wanted to, but because it was aired on every goddamn television channel.

On May Day, SEAL Team 6 stormed a compound in Pakistan and killed Osama bin Laden as he was, um, self-loving himself to his extensive porn collection of hairy desert women in burqas. After filling bin Laden with lead, the SEALs took his body and fed it to the fishes in the Indian Ocean. Unfortunately, struggling actor/taxi driver Bobby Wheeler and “Macho Man” Randy Savage were casualties of the operation… they were trying to steal Osama’s porn and got caught in the “moneyshot/killshot” crossfire.

Only one thing could bring a halt to America’s “Osama’s Dead” celebration, and that’s pictures of Anthony Weiner‘s “congressional member.” First, he denied the dick was his, then he blamed Republican hackers before finally admitting that shit was his and resigning. Unable to stay competitive in the ratings during Weinergate, Oprah aired her last episode of “The Oprah Winfrey Show.” Thank god for small big fat black mama miracles! Craving the spotlight one last time, Oprah comes forth as yet another person Herman Cain has groped.

In June, I lost my IT job at the Chinese Aerospace Embassy. After nearly a year, the Emperor’s bean counter decided that my job could easily be replaced by an outsourced computer company, and I was sent home with a two-week severance. It would be five more months before I would be gainfully employed again… just in time, too! I had just a couple weeks before my unemployment benefits were about to run out.

On June 4, Chile’s Puyehue volcano erupts, and surprisingly no one was killed or injured. Wanna know why? There were no floods!

Oh, uhh, just one more thing. Jack 'Dr. Death' Kevorkian‘s timely demise was investigated in June by Lieutenant Columbo. Surprisingly, Columbo found that Dr. Death’s demise was not assisted suicide. This revelation caused Columbo to go crazy and die less than three weeks later.

Amy Winehouse died of “accidental alcohol poisoning due to misadventure,” and became a member of the “27 Club” in July, joining the likes of Brian Jones, Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin, Jim Morrison, and Kurt Cobain. Misadventure? What the fuck, England?

July saw Space Shuttle Atlantis land successfully, sadly ending NASA’s storied Space Shuttle program. Also coming to an end was the Harry Potter film series, when we found out that Harry is really the father of Caylee Anthony and she’s not really dead, but living at Hogwarts, practicing her Quidditch. This shocking news magically acquitted Casey Anthony of murder and set her free to be sexually abused by Herman Cain.

In August, 434 people are killed in the 2011 Sindh floods in Pakistan, and no one gave two squirts of goat shit because — ohmygod ohmygod — Kim Kardashian and Kris Humphries got married in August! They then divorced after 1728 hours of wedded bliss, and still no one cared about the Sindh flooding in Pakistan. Why should we? … Goddamn Osama-hiding motherfuckers. Screw them!

In late August, a 5.8-magnitude earthquake struck Virginia, rattling more than a dozen East Coast states. Unfortunately, the White House and the Capitol Building didn’t collapse, as the quake only cause $200 million in damages, which Obama simply floated a check to cover. At the same time, Hurricane Irene rumbled up the East coast, dumping up to 15 inches of rain, causing $7 billion in damages, and killing 47 in the United States. Pundits were expecting further Plagues, like locusts, or frogs.

Copying the anti-government uprising in Egypt, the social justice demonstrations in Israel, and the political protests in Spain earlier this year, a few jobless liberals and greedy unions started camping in tents, pissing in the street, beating drums, and singing Kumbaya in a concocted protest of America’s wealthy and corporate inequality. The Hippie Autumn — or the so-called Occupy Wall Street protests — proved to us all that Barack Obama supporters are angry that the wealth isn’t being spread around fast enough to their liking.

In Thailand, yet another 657 people are killed by monsoon flooding in October, and the death toll from the flooding of Cambodia‘s Mekong River reaches 207. What’s the deal with floods this year?

“This fall, for the day-to-day activities of an Executive Transvestite Dictator, you need comfortable shoes and an easy outfit. Muammar has the perfect design. The repurposed shower-curtain-turned-House-Dress makes a fashion statement that says he’s a frugal cross-dressing dickweed. Notice the pill box hat that not only looks great, it perfectly matches his ‘man-purse.’” Saddly, Muammar Gaddafi, the “King of Kings of Africa,” was killed at a fashion show in October when he slipped on several rebel militia members bullets, and fell off the runway into a walk-in deep freezer. It was a complete accident. Really.

Speaking of kings, the king of expensive geek tech Steve Jobs also died in October, which led to many teary-eyed developers to write Candle Vigile iPhone/iPad apps to memorialize their false deity. Rainbow flags were lowered to half staff and everyone was asked to wear black turtlenecks.

Halloween brought more scary news; Earth’s population hits 7 billion people… 5.78 billion of them being Chinese script kiddies hell bent on spamming America. One person Earth doesn’t need is a spawn of Justin Bieber, who was accused in the autmn of fathering a child. We all knew it was bullshit, because the only people who like Justin Bieber are pre-pubescent girls who aren’t dropping eggs… because the haven’t had their first period yet! Besides, the baby couldn’t be Justin’s… he was being sexually abused by Jerry Sandusky. Ah ha… you thought I was going to say Herman Cain. Herm likes the beef curtains of white cougars, Jerry likes tight poop chutes of young boys.

By early November, I had joined the 53% again, working for an online retail business. After 12 hours of training, I was on my own during the busiest 60 days of their fiscal year. But I’m an IT rock star and handled things with little carnage.

November also brought about the verdict in the case of Conrad Murray, a black doctor, found guilty of killing a 50-year old white woman, leaving two children and a blanket without a parent. The so-called “Supercommittee” announced in November that they would not meet their deadline to find $1.5 trillion in deficit reduction cuts over a ten year span. That’s like me calling a news conference to announce I won’t be able reduce my household budget by $3,500 a year for ten years. I got news for you, I had to reduce my household budget by more than half while on unemployment earlier this year. And I still paid my rent, made my truck payment, kept up on credit card payments, paid all the utilities, and kept Tina, the birds, and myself fed!

November news showed no sign of stopping when Penn State assistant football coach, Jerry Sandusky, was arrested on 40 counts of sexually abusing eight boys. Jerry’s downfall was he didn’t build an amusement park and zoo in the back yard of his State College, Pennsylvania home… which probably would have gotten him off in more ways than one! Winkwinknudgenudge.

In December, Tropical Storm Washi causes yet another flood, killing a little over a thousand people in the Philippines, including a 96-year old Colonel Sherman T. Potter who died of pneumonia resulting from being in the cold flood waters. When news of Colonel Potter’s death reached the DPRK, Dear Supreme Leader Kim Jong-il — who at the age of 10 met the Colonel and Hawkeye Pierce during the Korean War — was deeply shocked, suffered a heart attack, and died. While North Koreans feigned sorrow for fear of death, the rest of the world pretty much didn’t give a fuck.

Speaking about not giving a fuck, Herman Cain suspended his campaign to be President in December, after every woman he’s ever met accused him of sexual misconduct, including his wife.

So, what lessons have we learned in 2011? Tsunamis and floods killed way more than 20,000 people… stay away from the goddamn water; Don’t tweet your junk on the Internet or you’ll lose your cushy government job; The Arab Spring is already more than 12 months old, proving we have no fucking clue about the Islamic calendar; Stay away from black men bearing gifts of pizza, they only want to grope you; If you’re 96 years old and contract pneumonia, get your affairs in order, ’cause you gonna die!

Shitty. Fucking. Year. Let’s hope 2012 is better, and those theorists about the Mayan calendar are as stupid as they sound.

Happy fucking New Year, everyone!

Yes, Steve Jobs is dead. Cancer is a sonofabitch. It’s sad to some degree when when anyone dies, mostly to their family and friends. Everyone deserves an obituary, and I don’t begrudge anyone that. It’s no surprise when a celebrity dies, it affects family, friends, strangers to a lesser extent, and sometimes corporations. Many people. But the news of Jobs’ has brought about an outpouring of apocryphal mourning throughout the social networks. Oh, I don’t doubt the Apple fanboys and fangirls are saddened by Jobs’ death. I simply question the veracity of their anguish. Facebook and Twitter were filled with teary public adulation. Many if not most tech web sites pushed out gushing eulogies praising Jobs’ contributions to the Human way of life in the 21st century. Even news anchors reported his death and exalted his life with a quiver in their voices while enumerating their various Apple products. Really? Since when did we start to idolize businessmen over other “less-then-famous heros” who have sacrificed far more for the Human condition. If I was employed, I’d wager real money that most of these blubbering Apple-praising technosheep didn’t shed tear one when their grandparents died. Publicly crying while wiping snot bubbles from your nose over the death of a middle-aged CEO seems terribly disingenuous and completely undeserved. I imagine these people look like this stupid bitch.

Personally, I think this contrived pseudo-lachrymosity a lugubrious game of one-upmanship, just as purchasing a piece of Apple gear is the patronal simile of techno-cock waving. “My friends posted emotional goodbyes to Steve Jobs on Facebook with their iPhones… I can eulogize him better with my iPad candle app.” I read a comment in some forum, written by some pantywaist with an over-sized mangina. He wrote the “4S” part in Apple’s new iPhone 4S, released one day prior to Jobs’ death, means “for Steve.” Jesus titty-fucking Christ! Get a grip, people!

I talked about Jobs’ perceived innovative prowess on Google+ with a couple friends, making the point that Jobs was not the omnipotent tech deity Apple customers and many tech pundits make him out to be. I read in someone’s blog (linked from Facebook) that he will be remembered as “a giant of innovation, like Edison.” Seriously? We’re comparing him to Thomas Edison? Jobs was not the innovating demigod who bestowed the computer, MP3 player, and smartphone upon the clamoring gadgetless masses, and a national sobfest of teary-eyed memorials outside every Apple Store cannot change that fact. Let’s refute some of the obvious milestones.

Some folks say the Apple I was the first personal computer, but it was simply an fully-assembled circuit board and the customer still had to provide their own power supply, a power switch, keyboard, video display, and case. Yes, I said case, as in a box to put everything in. And if you insist on saying the Apple I was the first personal computer, remember that Steve Wozniack actually developed and built it and the Apple ][. The Apple ][ may have been the most successful personal computer -- mainly because Apple had a beachhead in schools -- but it was not the first mass-marketed personal computer. The Commodore PET beat Apple by about five months, and it was half the price of the Apple ][. Contrary to popular belief, the Lisa (precursor to the Macintosh) wasn’t the first mouse-driven GUI computer, either. The Xerox Star was first, and Apple benefited greatly with an unknown amount of assistance from former Xerox developers that helped design the Macintosh. Maybe you think the iMac was revolutionary? Nope, the Commodore PET (again) and the Kaypro II were all-in-one personal computers that preceded even the first Macintosh. You’d be incorrect again if you thought Jobs’ invented the MP3 player. The fist digital audio player (playing MP3s) was available more than five years before the first iPod. Even the first hard drive-based MP3 players beat out the iPod by two years. And the beloved iPhone? Not the first smartphone. The Ericsson R380 was the first touchscreen smartphone released seven years before the iPhone. I personally owned an HTC Wizard running a custom Windows Mobile ROM nearly a year before the iPhone dropped. And we all know that the iPad wasn’t the first tablet computer… in fact, I’d argue the iPad is just a giant iPhone minus the calling capability.

No, Steve Jobs wasn’t as innovative as he will surely be remembered being. Nor was he the “father of creative technologies.” His company has it roots firmly in the infancy of the personal computer boom of the 70s and 80s, but Apple garnered its fame and fortune by producing gorgeous copies of gadgets that appealed to hipsters and technophobes that refused to embrace the much larger market share. Steve Jobs’ vision was really a fantastic marketing campaign. He sold (some of) us what was already available with an exclusivity concept that reached a cult-like zenith, and got insanely rich in the process. Everything Apple has ever done, while humanly accessible and visually sexy, is over-rated and over-priced. That’s fine if you like Apple’s products; they make good computers and music players and phones, oh my. But they’re just products, marketed by a large corporation, formerly headed by a man who had a great sense of style and showmanship. As for human greatness, I don’t think I’m qualified to pass judgment. However, Jobs was never a great philanthropist, and chasing profits as a CEO of a giant corporation doesn’t make you a Messiah.

Steve Jobs will be missed in the tech world, and I offer my sympathies to his family and friends. Apple’s products, while not original, were definitely imitated, and that is one of the great forms of flattery. Let’s just hope that Apple doesn’t fall into the same slide they did for eleven years while Jobs was off building the NeXT computer.

You can’t open a browser or use a smartphone without seeing some form of abbreviated text, like OMG and LOL, both of which have officially been added to the Oxford English Dictionary. Don’t get me wrong; I get it. Our language changes with time. Words often become archaic while others are brand new. Abraham Lincoln never once asked for an “update” or a “cheeseburger,” just as we don’t say such douchey words as “hitherto” or “verily” today.

However, I think we’ve taken the text messaging slang too far. I’m guilty of using OMG, LOL, WTF, and even LMAO… but only while texting or using social networks. I’ve even started using LMBO recently. While sending messages, you’re often limited to 140 to 160 characters, so abbreviations help you save save space when expressing a lengthy thought. Back in the day of flip phones, sending text messages required a lot of button presses because there are only 12 buttons on the keypad. All this key mashing using multi-tap, T9, and iTAP lead to a serious case of Blackberry thumb. So I understand why there are so many abbreviations in texting.

Like it or not, they’re now ingrained in our lives. We either accept it or fail to communicate. But I think letting it infiltrate our language like a virus is wrong, and because I’m old, it’s pissing me off!

In addition to the OED‘s inclusion of WTF, OMG and LOL, they’ve also added the heart symbol created by using the “less than” symbol and the number 3. <3 or ♥. Really? It’s not even a goddamn word! Do we really need a book to tell us that the shape of a heart means love? Hasn’t anyone ever heard of Valentine’s Day? Don’t we all know what “I♥NY” means? How would you even “spell” that in order to look it up? I can imagine some douche canoe phonetically trying to sound it out — like pneumonia or xylophone — looking in the N or Z section, respectively, then throwing the dictionary in frustration. Ha!

Never in my life have I yearned for a reference book to explain the shape of my Russel Stover chocolates box, because I went to school where I learned shapes. And gave out Valentines to classmates. Fuck, maybe second graders don’t do Valentine cards anymore. Somewhere along the line, ONE tofu-eating, tree-hugging church-goer probably wrote a letter, informing the school districts that Valentine’s Day cards will lead to polygamy or homosexuality. We all know that Valentine’s Day promotes promiscuity and fornication amongst seven year olds boys, right? And we can’t have that! But I digress. Let’s get back to language, shall we?

Text messaging has even found its way into advertising. Not only are companies using SMS technology to entice people with their wares, they’re using the lingo in their advertising, as well. Burger King has recently been using OMG, BFF, and LOL in posters (as seen in this photo) at their drive-thrus. Here’s a screen capture showing Unilever using OMG to hawk Degree antiperspirant/deodorant to girls. Oh, there’s more. Here’s another photo showing that even television networks can’t help themselves when advertising their shows. And this photo shows a jewelry store’s ad that really goes over the top, both in SMS lingo and lack of class. I can’t help but wonder what my grandparents would think of these ads. “Those electronic doodads are rotting your brain. What does ‘lawl’ and ‘omagah’ mean? What the hell is a ‘roffle?’”

But it doesn’t stop at lexicons and commercials. This annoying text lingo is even pervading into our spoken language. There’s probably not an American alive that hasn’t said “oh my gosh” once in their lives, or literally laughed out loud. But I’ve actually heard people say “oh em gee.” C’mon! It’s the same number of syllables! Just say “oh my god” instead of sounding like a Speak & Spell. On a phone, “OMG” is three characters, not nine, and typing those three characters should be… five button presses if I recall. But in spoken word, there’s no need to say “oh em gee” unless you think you sound cool. I submit you sound like an illiterate stuttering hump!

I was in the checkout line of my local Albertsons a few weeks ago and overheard a couple of teenage spawn of a soccer mom talking about whatever adolescent zit farms talk about. One was relaying some story that involved teasing a friend about a new haircut. Peppered with several “likes” and “uhs,” the tale ended with “…and I was lawlzing!” Seriously? Say “laughing,” you walking collection of oozing pustules! If I could have gotten away with it, that punky bastard would have been crying his eyes out while holding his bleeding head beneath the Certs and Snickers bars. I’d have bounced a can of Bush’s baked beans off his skull.

Similar to text messaging slang outside smartphones and social networks, the shortening of everyday words makes me want to punch people square in the trachea. Apparently, if you were born during the Clinton administration, you have a mineral deficiency, or something, that prevents you from pronouncing complete words. “Peeps” is the most common. It’s short for “people.” What’s wrong with the entire word? Are the people using these shortened words lacking a muscle in the vocal tract that causes linguistic fatigue, or have people become so lazy they can’t be bothered to finish a word? “Where my peeps?” Fuck you, it’s people! And who HAS people? Unless you’re a rich white guy from the 18th Century living on a plantation, you have peers… or friends if you’re lucky. “Peeps” are those marshmallow baby chickens you eat at Easter. And if by now you think I’m just an angry old American bitching about slang ruining English, try looking up peeps at Wikipedia. It’s already started; “peeps” redirects to “people.” It’s PEOPLE!

Unless you watch nothing but PBS on television, you’ve undoubtedly heard many of these syllabically-challenged words uttered by Generation TEXT these days: “Sitch” for situation, “obvi” for obviously, or my favorite (or should I say “fave?”) is “totes” for totally. Others include “probs” for probably and “trubs” for trouble. I’m about ready to have an “aneur.”

People using these Internet memes sound “redic” (ridiculous)! “What’s goin’ on?” “Oh, the uge (usual).” Jesus! I thought I was a lazy sonofabitch, but at least I can complete the pronunciation of a damn word! Seri! (seriously.) I don’t think I’ll ever understand why spoken words have to be shortened. I understand why we shorten typed words, but can anyone explain why zitsters born after the Cold War ended feel the need to speak so lackadaisically by shortening words? It’s stupid shit like this that furthers my slide into full-on misanthropy and sends my blood pressure to ranges that will require prescriptions.

If U uz short wrdz IRL, I h8 U all.

If you read my End of 2010 post, you know I lost my long-held job in January 2010. I was with The Company — as I call them to avoid being outed by Google Alerts — for more than five years. I considered that job an extension of the job I held for more than seven years prior. I started working for Nebula ISP (another obfuscation) in March 1997 then left and started with The Company in June 2004. Nebula ISP was acquired by The Company mere weeks after I joined, so to me it felt like the same job with a lot of the same customers. I had “that same job” for more than thirteen years before being axed by a gloomy burro.

Last year, it took me six months to find a new job. I’m not terribly picky. I like a challenging Information Technology job with medical benefits and a paycheck that allows me to pay for housing, my truck payment, bills, food, and a little left over for fun. I don’t chase the almighty dollar; I’m content with my simple life. So when I got hired last July as the IT Manager at a startup aircraft company in Burlington, I was happy. But once again, Captain Teleprompter’s lack of economic prowess reared its ugly head and I was ousted from my job by an outsourcing company in June. It didn’t pay Seattle salaries, but it was enough to pay all my obligations and provided me with health insurance. But now for the second time in less than a year and a half, I’m on the unemployment (unenjoyment) hamster wheel again, sans health insurance. Don’t hate me ’cause I’m livin’ the dream, motherfuckers!

If you know me or have read this mundane collection of self-involved tomes before, you may (or may not) know that several years ago I was diagnosed with a disease where my red blood cell production increases to compensate for low oxygen levels caused by asthma. The disease is called polycythemia secondary to asthma. Basically, it’s a fancy lad’s way of saying my blood sometimes has the viscosity of biscuit gravy. Of course, thicker blood means a slower rate of blood flow through my veins and arteries which increases the risk of blood clots. Blood clots can cause a stroke, a heart attack, pulmonary embolism, deep vein thrombosis, as well as unsolicited bulk email and biblical plagues. Those last two might be exaggerations.

The point of me airing this medical laundry list is the fact that I have no medical insurance. These blood abnormalities require a CBC every 60 days to check my hematocrit (percentage of blood volume that is made up of red blood cells) then literally drain a unit of blood in my hematocrit is too high. In addition to these scheduled CBCs and plebotomies, there’s an appointment with the hematologist every 12 weeks, and three different drug prescriptions to control asthma that would cost me $465 a month without insurance. Oh, I was eligible for continued coverage under the Consolidated Omnibus Budget Reconciliation Act of 1985. However, we all know that “unenjoyment” pays a fraction of your recently-lost weekly salary, and the $276 monthly COBRA payment just couldn’t fit into my newly down-sized budget.

At my last hematologist appointment in early August, my hematocrit was 50.5%, which is over the “Stab Jim and Let Him Bleed” threshold. However, since my ability to pay is in question, we decided to go all in and let it ride until early September. After I was kicked free, I was sent to the Financial Office at the hospital, just across the hall from where I see the doc. I was fully expecting them to anally rape me with a giant accounts receivable ledger, or at least talk to me about how I expect to pay my bill (since they can no longer bilk my old insurance company). The girl I talked to seemed helpful, and had me fill out some forms for financial aid. She told me that a lot of times, the hospital will pay a patient’s COBRA because it’s often cheaper than writing off all or a portion of their bill. Sweet! That would allow the hospital to get paid for my needed lab work, phlebotomies, and doctor visits, AND make it possible for me to get my prescriptions. I left the hospital only to return a couple days later with my COBRA paperwork. Financial said they would look at all the options and let me know. What options? Pay my COBRA, dammit!

A few days later, I get a voice mail from the hospital. Instead of paying my $276 COBRA bill, they say they’ll deduct 50% of bill. Really? That’s awful nice of them, but with just one CBC and Lab work plus a visit with the hematologist, my bill is already over $550. Add another visit in early September with a phlebotomy, and my bill will easily exceed $1500. So, the fifty percent they’ll comp me over two months is approximately $750. However, if they just paid the COBRA bill over the same period of time, the cost is $552 AND I’d be able to pay the copays on my prescriptions, or visit my primary care physician (PCP). Great… In order to get my meds, I had to ask my PCP to fill out the “if you can’t afford your medication” applications and send them to the pharmaceutical companies. Nothing makes me feel shittier than asking for a hand out. Fuck.

I fail to see their logic here, but I’m not a bean counter. In my mind, the insurance company would pay the hospital the charged amount. But apparently that’s not how it works, as the insurance company pays what THEY think is a fair price, not what the hospital charges. Makes me wonder why us patients can’t pay what WE feel is a fair price instead of being stuck paying $12 for a single Tylenol.

Anyway, let’s just say the charged amount is $1500 over two months, but the insurance company says they’re only going to pay $1200 of it. Subtract the $552 they’d pay for COBRA in those two months, and the net amount is $648. I guess the hospital figures they’ll get more money comping me half… but that’s only if I actually pay my half. Ha!

I’m still fiercely opposed to Obamacare. But I can see where a little bit of temporary help by hospitals and insurance companies for people between jobs (and only for a short time) could be beneficial. Thankfully, my PCP was uber cool and gave me a few free sample so I’m not doing without my meds. I’ll spare everyone a diatribe on the politics of social healthcare. Fuck, if I got into it, I’d be typing until my gentleman bits dropped from gravity’s slow, cruel pull.

Really? I wouldn’t necessarily say America owns outer space, but we kicked some serious Soviet Union ass during the race to the Moon in the 1960s, and we kicked every one else’s ass in exploration of the rest of the Solar System. The human spaceflight programs of Mercury, Gemini, Apollo, Skylab, and the Shuttle proved to the world that America was fearlessly second-to-none in its determination to explore the Moon and to be on the cutting edge of technological advances. On average, we were launching Shuttles better than one every three months. Who else but America could build five reusable spacecrafts and launch them 135 times in thirty years? Nobody! NASA has continually pushed America’s drive, status, ingenuity, and know-how into Earth’s truly final frontier for the past fifty years. And now, sadly, most of that is on the back burner…

For the Russians to be claiming that it’s their space age now, and we’ve entered the “Soyuz epoch,” is terribly… Soviet of them. Maybe someone should remind them who got the sweeter end of this Technology Sharing stick, and who shouldered more of the construction cost of the International Space Station. I mean, it not like we own or operate seven (to the Russian’s five) of the fifteen modules that make up ISS, right? However, some bureaucratic tighty-whitey stain signed off on a contract that calls for three crew members on each six-person Expedition to be Russian! That sounds fair, until you realize that the remaining crew members must come from the 15 other countries involved in IIS’ operation. For example, three Russians, two Americans, and a Canadian. Or, three Russians, one American, a Japanese, and an Italian. How did that happen? My grandparents would be on a non-stop coffin rotisserie if they knew what was going on 225 miles above!

It still pisses me off beyond words that we’ve spent an estimated $100 billion dollars on the ISS, including shuttle missions, and we now have no domestic means of getting to it. Why would Obama kill the Constellation program, then allow the Shuttle program to end while extending the Space Station’s mission to 2020? If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was purposely helping Russia’s economy. C’mon! It’s like building a house on small island, and having no possible way to get to the island. Or worse yet, having to rely on your former enemies to fly you and two friends to your island for $190 million. Oh, the Russians are more than happy to give us a ride to ISS in their 1968 Checker Marathon Soyuz taxicab at a cost that will hit $63 million PER SEAT in three years. Sonsofbitches! Mark Shuttleworth flew to ISS in a Soyuz death coffin for $20 million! I have three words for the Russians: Frequent-Fuckin’-Flyer Miles!

Now that the U.S. has no manned spacecraft, and China is ramping up their manned programs exponentially, we’re in danger of being surpassed by the Communists. China is planning on launching the first phase of their own space station later this year, with completion slated for 2020. On top of that, they’ve already launched spacecraft for a lunar exploration program… and the Russians are helping them! We could see the Five Star Red Flag of People’s Republic of China on the Moon by 2025!

If you’re one of those bleeding-heart utopian types, you might ask, “Why should we care? We don’t own the Moon and space is vast enough for all of Earth’s nations.” Well, you should care! Unlike the National Aeronautics and Space Administration, the Chinese space program is run by their military, the People’s Liberation Army. And that’s enough to cramp the muscles in anyone’s balloon knot.

While NASA says they’ll announce a heavy lift craft “soon,” the fact is they don’t have one. They didn’t have one before ending the Shuttle program. Amazingly, in addition to relying on the Russians to get us to ISS, the Obama Administration has voiced a willingness to work with the Chinese on manned missions to Mars. But should we? Do we really want to work with a country we owe so much money to? A country that we can’t trust? A communist country? I think not. But I suspect someday in the future we’ll all be glued to our televisions cell phones and tablets watching Chinese astronauts build a space station, colonize the Moon, and landing a manned craft on Mars… All thanks to Congressional budget cuts for social entitlements and a retooled mission for NASA that apparently puts Muslim outreach ahead of the United States’ ability to expand its pioneering ability to place Americans in space.

NASA is not without options. They’ve created a program called Commercial Orbital Transportation Services and requested funding for private transport to and from low-Earth orbit. Companies like SpaceX — with their Falcon 9 / Dragon spacecraft — could easily take over for the Shuttles under COTS, sort of. The payload capacity is quite a bit lower, but it’s MORE than the Soyuz! At least SpaceX is American, and we’re not paying Russia upwards of $200 mil for a hitch every six months.

I’m sure you’re tired of my ranting about the space program… so I’ll leave it there. Let’s hope NASA and Congress doesn’t sit on it’s ass and watch the Russians and Chinese pass us by. I’d hate for us to be third best.

And before any of you Liberal cocks out there flood my email with comments, I’m fully aware that President Bush ordered the retirement of the Space Shuttle fleet. However, Bush Jr. fully supported the Constellation program that would have replaced the Shuttle. It was ol’ Mr. Hope & Change himself that promptly canceled Constellation bringing the inevitable end to American-manned spaceflight for the foreseeable future… taking thousands of jobs with it!

I’m four and a half decades old — born in the middle of the Cold War — and cannot recall a time that NASA hasn’t been putting Americans (and others) in space. I’ve been enamored with NASA my entire life, especially the manned spaceflights.

In 1969, I was at my grandparent’s house in Philadelphia while they were watching the television coverage of Apollo 11. I was only three years old, but moments after Neil Armstrong hopped off the lander, I was at the front door of their house looking up at the sky, trying to see the man on the moon. At least that’s how the story went. I may have been too young to recall that personally, but I somehow remember it. But I do remember when Skylab was falling out of the sky, and whenever it was time for science projects in school, I immediately went to the missions of Mercury, Gemini, and Apollo. My Dad was constantly getting printed photos from NASA and Jet Propulsion Laboratory, and I remember using those images in a school book report. My Dad even got me Gene Cernan’s autograph!

Living in suburban Pennsylvania as an awkward teenager, I clearly remember watching hours and hours of television coverage of Space Shuttle Enterprise test free flights and the first-ever launch of Space Shuttle Columbia on April 12, 1981. Eventually, Shuttle missions became so routine that their launches were only mentioned on the evening news. “President Ronald Reagan declares May ‘National Child Safety Awareness Month,’ people in the south continue their protest of Coca Cola for changing the formula of their beloved soft drink, and Space Shuttle Challenger lifted off from Kennedy Space Center. Here’s Tom with the weather.” Sad indeed.

On January 28, 1986, I was standing on an icy street corner on a bitter cold morning in West Chester, Pennsylvania. My friend and I were waiting for the 104 bus to take us to the city. I don’t remember if the bus didn’t show up, or we got tired of freezing our asses off. But I do remember getting home to news that Space Shuttle Challenger had exploded 73 seconds after liftoff. Like most Americans I watch in disbelief, shocked that we could suffer a loss so great. Of course, the non-stop news coverage was all over the tragedy then, weren’t they? I recall they covered the “Teacher in Space” like she was the lone member on board. It’s nice to see Main Stream Media has improved since the mid-80s. </sarcasm>

I was working at a Philadelphia Radio Shack nearly three years later when Space Shuttle Discovery returned us to space in 1988. Years later, I was home watching the landing of Columbia live on television when she disintegrated over Texas February 1, 2003. Being only a year and a half after the September 11 attacks, I wondered at the time (like most of us did) if the Columbia disaster was an act of terrorism… which it wasn’t. Two and a half years later, I was glued to NASA TV when Discovery, yet again, shouldered the job of returning Americans back to space in 2005. Good ol’ Discovery was the fleet’s workhorse!

After 135 missions, the Shuttle program has been shuttered, never to fly again. Its three remaining orbiters have been promised to museums around the country. And thanks to Porkulus or the Tax, Rape, Pillage, and Spend More Than We Have Act of 2010, America has no immediate plans to replace the Shuttle. Instead, we’ll have to ride with the Russians on Soyuz spacecraft, like some sandal-wearing hippie looking to hitch a ride to a fuckin’ Phish concert. Gas, Grass, or Ass: No one rides for free.

The goddamn Russian Roscosmos, really? The same Russian Federal Space Agency that had two — TWO! — satellite launches end failure just five and eight months ago? The same Space Agency that only built five of the eleven spacecraft planned in 2010, and had six spacecraft for civilian purposes fail to launch in 2010? The same assclowns that put rich civilians on their spacecrafts, like they’re a galactic taxi company? Please!

Obama has officially signaled to the world that America has thrown in the towel and waved the white flag of surrender. He’s given our plums to the Chinese! In 1961, a President Johnson report stated, “It is man, not mere machines, in space that captures the imagination of the world.” This has proven true every single time! Yuri Gagarin, Alan Sheppard, Ed White, Sally Ride, Neil Armstrong, John Young and Robert Crippen, and Story Musgrave among others, have definitely captured the imagination of the world. Now, that task lies in the hands of the socialists and communists, with names like Vladimir Iliykdrinkinvokov and Bol Son Chin. Good job, Mr. President.

And have you noticed the rise of invented terminology used to describe the next snow storm? Each time a system threatens to dump copious tonnage of snow, the weather guessers coin some faggoty blended word term that exaggerates reality. Snowpocalypse! Snowmageddon! Snowverload! Snowzilla! Blizzaster! Snowlocaust! Even Snowtorious B.I.G! SnOMG people, it’s just fucking snow! Come down off the ledge and have a cup of cocoa, you pussies!

Anyway… back to my tale. Wednesday morning I woke up at 5am to about three inches of snow already on the ground, and it was still coming down to beat the band. I got ready for work, kissed the little woman goodbye, and left to clear the snow off my truck. I started at the front, but by the time I cleared the hood, the windshield, the side, the roof, the tonneau cover, and the other side, there was a quarter inch on the hood and windshield again! It was flat out dumping snow on Whidbey Island. And while I’m talking of snow removal, I want it on record that I clear my entire vehicle of snow, not just the windows like other lazy motherfuckers do. If you’re one of these inconsiderate bastards that can’t be bothered to clear your roof of snow, I hope you slide off the road and drown in a pool of your own blood and vomit when someone else’s sheet of roof snow blows off and hits your windshield.

Leaving my driveway at 5:45am, the highway was compact snow and ice. It didn’t appear that the State or County had sent plows out yet, and I was thankful for new all-weather tires and 4×4. I hadn’t even made it out of town before I passed several cars that were fishtailing or spinning their wheels. North of town, several people were trying to push spun-out vehicles up the hill. At least five disabled cars were scattered across this part of the highway, all facing different different directions. The tire tracks in the snow no longer followed the normal lanes as other traffic navigated around around these stranded cars. Many cars and several big rigs were either stuck or parked on the side of the highway. A couple of people spun out and were facing the opposite direction, while others were either in the ditch or stuck on the median. One poor sonofabitch rolled his truck at the bottom of a hill, obviously the victim of stupidity.

While the winters in the Puget Sound region are normally mild, the occasional snow storm does happen every year. I would think that drivers would either get used to staying home, or get used to driving in snow. Of course, I’m completely wrong. People are goddamn idiots when the white stuff falls. It just amazes me that people don’t know how to handle winter weather driving. Yeah yeah, I have a big truck with four-wheel drive, but before I bought that truck I drove a 1968 Mustang coupe. “Marty” (as Tina called the Mustang) was a 2,700 pound rear wheel drive vehicle with lots of torque, no limited slip differential, and all its weight up front. I’d argue that there is no other vehicle more difficult to drive in tempestuous weather than the 1960s Ford Mustang. However, for 15 years, I drove that Mustang everywhere in all kinds of inclement weather, including snow and ice. The difference is I know how to drive in snow, and stupid Toyota-driving Flips do not!

This snowstorm was no different. Drivers in front-wheel drive compact hybrid roller skates were out in force Wednesday, and they were the bane of my commute. Every time I approached an incline, the vehicle in front of me would slow down. Why on earth would you do that? You want to speed up slowly to use momentum, then maintain speed in order to climb the hill. I found myself screaming in vain at the jackasses who slowed down! One shithead in a mid-1980s Ford Aerostar van did exactly that — slowed down at the bottom of the hill and ended up spinning his wheels halfway up. Without missing a beat, I moved into the oncoming lane (since it was clear) and passed the moron.

My commute to work is 27 miles, and it normally takes me 35 to 40 minutes. In this snow, it took me an hour and 15 minutes to reach the office. When I got out of my truck, the grille and front end was packed with snow. The windshield was also caked with snow, except for where the wiper blades kept a clear path. With the shear number of stranded vehicles and the rate of accumulation, I called my boss and told him Highway 20 hadn’t even been plowed yet and the snow was piling up fast. The decision was made to call everyone else and close the office for the day. I spent a total of 20 minutes at work before heading home, which took even longer. The snow and ice was causing havoc with a traffic light which was only allowing one or two cars to pass per cycle. Coupled with the downpour of snow and visibility, the return trip home took an hour and 45 minutes.

Whidbey Island saw nine inches of snow fall in five hours. Parts of Burlington and Mount Vernon saw more than two feet of snow! Snowmageddon, indeed! And the guessers were predicting the snow would continue through mid-day Thursday, and the arctic Canadian air would invade the Puget Sound region for several days. And they were right. Daytime highs weren’t even breaking freezing. Of course, this led to more hyperbole from the newscasts about broken pipes and frozen homeless people. Hand me my slippers.

Just like school districts, I made a late start on getting ready for work Thursday. I left the house at 7:20am instead of 6:20am in hopes the roads would be less treacherous. The outside temperature was 22°F, and light flurries were falling. There’s a set of three concrete steps leading to my front door, and the top two were iced over. I don’t know if I was in a hurry, admiring the snowy scenic view, or just plain tired, but when I stepped on that top step, my feet went out from under me like Charlie Brown after that bitch Lucy snatched the football away.

The full heft of my fat ass came crashing down on the steps like an over-sized sack of hot meat. All I could say was “son of a bitch!” I laid there for about two minutes — unable to move — before the cold of the snow and ice permeated my jeans. Still unable to make my legs work correctly, I pulled myself up to the lower step and sat there for another couple minutes before attempting to stand up. I considered myself lucky I didn’t break anything or crack open my skull, but my ass just below my tailbone was sore as fuck. Yes, I think I injured my coccyx!

I made the trip to work with my truck’s heated seat on. While the heat may have given me swamp ass, it made my lower back and ass feel better. At work, I couldn’t sit normally in my chair. I was leaning to the left on one cheek, like I needed to rip a good fart. To make things worse, I was experiencing tingling in my feet and had to stand still for a spell before attempting to walk. Simply excellent. In the restroom at work, I was able to get a peek at the upper portion of my right ass cheek, and it was turning a glorious shade of purple. By the time I got home, a giant hematoma had formed, and my ass cheek felt like it was on fire. It looks dreadful, like giant purple Sea of Tranquility on my pasty white moon.

There was no way I was going to be able to sit in a chair at work without suffering through waves of ass pain. I called work and left a message saying I wasn’t going to make it in, and spent the day in bed, avoiding any pressure on my ass. Everything on me was sore; my ass, back, neck, shoulders, and upper arms. I felt like I was hit by a school bus. I don’t think a three day weekend of rest could hurt more.

As I type this update on Saturday afternoon, it is once again snowing on Whidbey Island and the temperature is 26°F. The pain in my ass has been reduced to a dull throbbing thanks to Tylenol, but it still looks like a dark purple facsimile of the far side of the moon. Let’s hope I didn’t damage anything permanently.

The year 2010 was ugly. Like waking up in bed with a hangover next to a naked Barney Frank in a Michelle Obama mask ugly! For me, it started out with a swift kick to the bait and tackle when my supervisor, Eeyore (as he was nicknamed), called me to the conference room and proceeded to tell me that The Company was heading in a new direction and my services would no longer be needed. However, the written notice of my termination said the reason was “due to ongoing inadequate performance over a long period of time.” I don’t know what Eeyore’s donkey chow-eating ass considers “inadequate” or “long period of time,” but I was only written up once in October 2009 for leaving several tickets in a queue untouched for a day or two. Three months does not a “long period of time” make, especially since I was employed with The Company for more than five and a half years. It wasn’t normal practice for me to ignore tickets either, but the migration of an archaic web server broke many company-provided cgi scripts, and it was my job to fix them… on top of my normal load of handling four separate ticket queues by myself. Whatever.

I went back to my office, packed up all my office flair, and grabbed LDriver to head home. Just like dealing with a family death, there are stages of grieving when you lose a job. I think I was done with denial by the end of the first day. Anger ended and acceptance began at sunrise the following day when I realized I didn’t have to make that soul-crushing commute to Seattle ever again. Of course, depression started when living on unemployment (a.k.a. “unenjoyment”) and finding a new job closer to home became more and more difficult. It was enough to make me enter a seldom-expressed stage of grieving: revenge!

On the world stage, a giant earthquake leveled parts of Haiti in January. It was the third deadliest earthquake of all time, and it was rumored to be caused by a runaway Prius. This led Toyota to recall over 8 million vehicles for several reasons, including magical pedal-pushing floor mats, sticky accelerators, an anti-lock braking virus, as well as general smugness and/or ugliness.

February brought a Super Bowl win to the Saints who beat the Colts. While Peyton Manning cried, Saints fans celebrated the best thing to happen to New Orleans since Hurricane Katrina. February was also the start of the 2010 Winter Olympic Games in Vancouver, BC. Being only 100 miles away from Oak Harbor, I really wanted to at least visit Vancouver, but my jobless situation prevented discretionary spending. One positive in not having a job is I could watch as much Olympic coverage as possible on NBC. In further sports news, Tiger Woods gave a televised apology for his infidelities. This made everyone’s jaw drop to the floor simultaneously, causing another giant earthquake, this time in Chile.

In March, I was fully on the job search hamster wheel, rewriting résumés and cover letters, scouring the State’s WorkSource site as well as other online job listings. In Washington, you have to make three job search contacts each week — and keep a contact log — in order to receive your weekly pittance. With a fair amount of free time on my hands, coupled with the occasional trips to the WorkSource office or job interviews, I had plenty of opportunities to go shooting with my camera. I took many photos during my jobless time, and I dumped nearly all of my shots on Flickr, and created a new blog at photography.wafwot.com. It’s a better way to spend a day than watching Bewitched and All in the Family reruns, or FOX News which was covering the Obamacare politics pretty heavily in March.

Princess Pelosi is infamous for saying crazy fucking shit, but her comments about Obamacare to the National Association of Counties stating “we have to pass the bill so that you can find out what is in it, away from the fog of the controversy,” ranks up there as the stupidest things ever said by a human being, let alone a politician. Clearly the Botox in her Liberal face has poisoned her mosquito-sized brain. Seriously, Pelosi’s “pass the bill so that you can find out what is in it” remark makes Jessica Simpson’s Chicken of the Sea comments sound genius! Of course, by the end of March, King Obama signed the bill into law even though the majority of Americans didn’t want it. Out like a lamb, my fat white ass.

April saw yet another giant earthquake, this time in China. The Earth must have been mad at humanity in 2010, because a volcano under Eyjafjallajökull (which is Icelandic for “how the fuck do I say that?“) erupted, grounding planes throughout most of Europe. Not to be outdone in the shock and awe department, the BP Deepwater Horizon oil rig exploded in the Gulf of Mexico, sending thousands of gallons of crude oil per hour into the ocean. BP initially lied about the severity of the spill; they’re British, they had to scale it down a bit. April also saw Apple’s release of the iPad, basically an expensive iPhone for people with giant hands, but without phone service. In Arizona, lawmakers passed SB 1070, which made being of Mexican descent illegal. Cops were instructed to start rounding up wetbacks and throwing them into concentration camps for extermination in August… so said MSNBC. White power, motherfuckers!

After three months of job searching, it was time for a change. Family genetics left me with a head of gray hair, and no one wants to hire an old fat-ass. So, while watching the 2010 Stanley Cup playoffs, I started applying Grecian Formula to my giant old man head. It took a few weeks to see my hair changing a nice shade of graphite, like I was rubbing pencil sharpener shavings on my scalp. And my head smelled like a book of burnt matches. Clearly this wasn’t working. So, I gave Tina my berries and went to the Wal-Mart for a box of women’s hair dye. Good God, what a scary ordeal that was! After leaving that color on my head for a twenty minutes, I looked like Ronald Reagan in 1981… but with less wrinkles. To me, I looked ridiculous. Good thing I have hats.

Overly concerned about the continuing flow of oil into the Gulf, our Supreme Overlord made a couple trips to Louisiana in May for some photo ops. The media was plastered with video showing Obama standing on the beach — surrounded by black globs of oil — staring benevolently out at the water. It was the least he could do between rounds of golf. Meanwhile, Congress held hearings about the spill, and suggested we melt down defective Toyotas and fashion a giant drain stopper. When the giant the giant bathtub plug was shot down, Congress decided to outlaw deep sea drilling. The way the Administration was acting, you’d have thought the Gulf crude was leaking into their morning bowl of Wheaties.

By June, I was about fed up with with the job search rut. I had interviews at several companies in Skagit County, and all but one said “no,” and that one didn’t say “no” wasn’t saying anything yet. Frustration and depression were setting in quickly, especially when the Flyers lost the Stanley Cup finals to Drunken Queef and the Chicago Blackcocks.

One position I applied for was for a network administrator at a local casino. I won’t say which casino, but it rhymes with “two day shit” if you say it real fast and put the emphasis on “day.” Their application wanted more personal information than a new car loan, which started me (and Tina) on a 10-day scavenger hunt. Things like driver’s license and Social Security number were easy. But they also wanted a copy of my criminal record, driving record, and high school diploma. High school diploma? Sweet baby Jesus, it’s been a quarter century since I’ve seen that! After turning the house upside down in a fruitless search, I called the school for a copy. They told me a replacement diploma would cost $25 and take a couple weeks. Just as I was about to give up, Tina finally found my diploma — the last item I needed — in the very last possible place it could have been. I spent several days polishing the turd that is my curriculum vitae, then emailed my application to a friend that worked at the casino. He printed the app and all the supporting documents and submitted it for me. After several weeks, I got a phone call for a job interview. My Ronald Reagan hair and I drove the 70 miles to Marysville for the interview, which was a bit ambiguous. You know how there’s more than one way to do things in much of life? It’s not any different in the IT world. Several of their questions could have had more than one answer and still be correct. However, you if you didn’t have their answer, it counted against you. I thought I did well, but found out that no one answered their interview questions correctly. This told them their questions were flawed, and they subsequently withdrew the position. Excellent.

I continued the three weekly job contacts into July, living my own personal Groundhog Day. The BP spill was still spewing oil into the Gulf. However, BP was finally able to stem the flow with something they called “LMRP,” which I think is a British acronym for Lick My Royal Posterior. With the well capped, America could now focus it’s full attention on more important things, like LeBron James‘ eeny, meeny, miny, moe game of where to play basketball, Lindsay Lohan‘s 14-day jail sentence, and the excitement of World Cup Soccer (yaaawwwn). I was still using my huge amounts of free time to take photos around Island and Skagit counties, until I got a phone call from that one company that hadn’t said no. It was nearly two months since I interviewed with them, and had written it off as another failure. But when they offered me the job over the phone, I gladly accepted without hesitation! I was happy to be employed again, but sickened by the fact that I had just helped Obama lower his jobless percentage.

August was a good month; I had a reason to wake up in the morning. I was hired as the IT Manager of an aerospace company. It sounded pretty cool until I realized it’s a start up company that hasn’t built a plane yet. They’re setting up the fabrication facility using the assets of a company they bought out of bankruptcy, and they didn’t even have an IT department yet. So, I am the manager of one (me), but it’s my job to build the IT department, and I like that idea a lot. With my second paycheck, I went to the local Sprint store and bought the EVO 4G. I had it rooted within four days of owning it.

Also in August, the East Coast was attacked by giant bedbugs which prompted NASA to extend the Space Shuttle program in order to plan an attack of planet Klendathu. Up in the panhandle of Florida, the Messiah and his family vacationed in Panama City on the Gulf Coast as a publicity stunt showing the waters were safe. To maintain his “first black president” hue, he went swimming with the crude oil globules. Unfortunately, the Gulf was oilier when Barry got out of the water, so the First Family finished their vacation in Martha’s Vineyard by playing golf and shopping. Obama also put a another woman on the Supreme Court, and Planet Blago was downgraded to Douchebag Blago.

By September, the midterm elections were coming to a head. Balack Osama and his Congress were about as popular as a hooker with cold sores, and they knew it. When they began campaigning in their home districts, they didn’t talk about Obamacare, they talked about being a witch or worshipping Aqua Buddha. In the entertainment industry, Tony Curtis died, the tragic victim of a runaway Toyota.

October was uneventful for me. I was living the dream with a full time job, and enjoying the work. I designed a logo for the company and built them a simple beginner web site for an Internet presence. At the company’s main offices, I was building new cubicles and computer systems for a contingent of Chinese engineers on work visas. I was also supervising new Cat 6 cable runs at the airport facility, built a Linux router/firewall, and deployed a new Asterisk phone system.

Elsewhere in the world, yet another earthquake off the coast of Sumatra killed over 400 people, terrorists in Yemen tried sending printer toner bombs to the U.S. via UPS, and a gaggle of Chilean miners trapped in a mine for 69 days were rescued with a giant mechanical tampon applicator. A bright spot was the news that the International Space Station surpassed the record for the longest continuous human occupation of space, unless you count John Dingell‘s white ass planted in his House seat for more than 55 years. What the hell kind of name is “Dingell” anyway? Sounds like a piece of shit stuck to the hairs of his mudcutter.

In November, I was invited to watch the Manny Pacquiao vs. Antonio Margarito fight on pay-per-view at my boss’ house. He had a $150 in bets against Pacquiao with a couple people at work. Needless to say, Pacquiao beat Margarito like a Mexican piñata, and broke his right orbital bone. Ouch. My boss paid his bet in $1 bills. Awesome.

Also in November, the Democrats were beaten like Margarito by the Republicans in the 2010 midterm elections. The jackasses lost the House majority, several Senate seats, some governorships, some state legislatures, and Dancing With the Stars. It was the biggest game of musical chairs since 1948, and the largest for any midterm election since 1938. If you listen very carefully, you can still hear Princess Pelosi crying in her Zinfandel.

Three days before Thanksgiving, it snowed in Western Washington, and everyone dropped a rectal plate. I was a little worried about the accumulating snow. Not because I can’t drive in bad weather, but because other people are complete retards when the pavement is anything but dry. When I left work, I put my truck in 4×4 low and headed out, adjusting my speed for the road conditions. Fifteen miles from home, got stuck in a long line of traffic. There was apparently an accident in Deception Pass that blocked the entire highway and snarled traffic for hours. A trip that normally takes me 40 minutes took ten minutes shy of 4 hours. Told you they were retards.

Then, while millions of Americans were cooking their junk at the airports in full body scanners, Tina and I went to Thanksgiving dinner at my boss’ house. The night before Thanksgiving it snowed again, but it was no trouble for my truck. We arrived right on time, had a great meal and enjoyed the visit. The very next day, Obama was punched in the mouth by a Latino man angry that the Administration was allowing Arizona to gas beaners. The resulting cut to King Hussein’s upper lip required 12 stitches.

December saw a federal judge in Virginia rule that Obamacare is unconstitutional. In response, the Justice Department said, “Nuh uh!” The 2010 Census numbers were released in December, showing that the U.S. population grew 9.7% to 308,745,538, the smallest increase since the 1930s. Was it a coincidence that the unemployment rate was 9.8% and the population increased 9.7%? The world may never know. In response howerver, Joe Biden said, “These new motherfuckers need to get a job to help America’s recovery.” Elsewhere, Obama dropped to his knees and blew the Republicans in order to hammer out and sign the GOP tax compromise bill, then repealed don’t ask, don’t tell to the delight of butt pirates everywhere. Hmmmm.

At work, the company sprung for a Christmas meal for all employees. The food was catered by Haggen Food in Burlington, but needed to be heated before serving. Not having a stove at the office, my boss planned on having his wife heat the food at his house which was only about a mile away. I asked why we just didn’t heat the food in the oven, and was told we don’t have an oven at the office. “Um, the hell we don’t. We have a 55-foot curing oven,” which I often refer to as the Jew Cooker. Needless to say, our Christmas meal was cooked in the Jew Cooker. Here’s a crappy cellphone picture.

And that about covers it. There was lots more that happened in 2010, but this is all I can muster in my glossed over Reader’s Digest edition. I, for one, am glad to see 2010 in history’s rear view mirror. Let’s hope 2011 is better for me and our troubled country. Peace, bitches.

I guess the first problem of the new year is how to say it. Do you say “twenty ten” or “two thousand ten?” I’m partial to the latter. For ten years, we’ve been saying “two thousand.” It was “two thousand one,” “two thousand four,” “two thousand nine.” We didn’t say “twenty five,” did we? Of course not. And I don’t think anyone was saying “twenty oh seven.” So why are people saying “twenty ten” now? Because it’s easier to say? It rolls off the tongue? Give me a break, you lazy fucks. It’s one goddamn syllable. I’m sticking with “two thousand,” which is better than Bill O'Reilly, who says “two ten” or “two eleven.”

So, what happened in twenty aught nine? It started out with a feeling of “hope and change“, but eventually that feeling turned to “let’s hope this year ends soon!” In January, an estimated 8.9 billion people (according to the Obama Administration) crowded the streets of Washington D.C. to witness the historical inauguration of America’s first president to be elected after George W. Bush. One of the new president’s first task was to fix the economic abyss he inherited from the evil Dubbya administration. The magic bullet fix was a piece of shit called the American Recovery and Reinvestment Act of 2009 – also called the Stimulus Bill, or Porkulus Bill – which was passed in February.

Our Emperor promised an end to earmark spending, but said the Porkulus Bill was “last year’s business” and blamed the Bush Administration. He scared everyone by saying if it wasn’t passed, Republicans would sleep with Democrats, jobless Americans would rain from the sky, and four horsemen would come trotting down Pennsylvania Avenue on tiny Shetland ponies to ask what’s in our wallet. So, before anyone in Congress read the bill – or the last page came off the laser printer for that matter – it was passed into law. But did any of us struggling Americans get any of those 787 billion dollars to stimulate anything? Fuck no. That would have made sense. Instead, it was to be given to states for civil projects they deemed shovel-ready. Oh, these were worthy, job-creating projects like changing highway signs in Arizona from kilometers to miles, covered garages for people’s bicycles in Oregon, the removal of gang-related tattoos in California, or the researching why pigs smell so bad in Iowa (which gives a whole new meaning to “pork spending”). I couldn’t make this shit up if I was high.

Then there’s the quaint fairy tale of General Motors. They sold a total of seven vehicles during the last fiscal year and had their hand out like some beggar with a tin cup at Union Station. They changed their name to Government Motors and took a whole bunch of “too big to fail” bailout rupees. Now they sell cars made of bean sprouts and tofu that get 37 miles per gallon city (42 highway) on unleaded soy juice. Chrysler played musical pockets with nearly seven billion of our tax dollars by declaring bankruptcy and selling it’s assets to a company called “New Chrysler.” Yeah. Pass the bong, please.

On the personal front, I bought a digital SLR camera in February. I love creating images with a camera, and I had hoped to take many more photos than I already have. However, visits to people whose profession involves nitrile gloves couple with my daily commute to the fourth circle of hell pretty much killed that notion. I haven’t lost interest though… just lack the time (and sometimes energy).

In March, the “in case shit happens” company AIG received 170 billion of OUR bailout tax dollars, THEN posted a $61 billion loss after paying their fat cat executives big bonuses in the amount of $61 billion dollars… or so says Sean Hannity. This news angered the King and his jesters so much, all they could do was blame Bush. They completely failed to see the irony that they were the ones who passed the legislation that authorized the bailouts and the bonuses. The Supreme Leader – who refused to let us forget that he inherited this economic crisis from the Bush Administration – fired the CEO of Government Motors and promoted Howie Long to the position.

Also in March, I had – rather, tried to have – a cholesterol test. A stupid little cholesterol test started a roller coaster ride of doctor appointments. It started a span of several months were I felt like a patient of Gregory House, and didn’t make a complete week of soul-crushing commutes to Seattle. I saw my PCP, a hematologist, a pulmonologist, had a polysomnogram, pulmonary function test, echo cardiogram, and a chest CT. To this day, I’m still seeing these doctors. You can read more in my blog updates from April and May of two kay zero niner.

In April, the “R2D2 Formula 409 8675309 Jenny Jenny” virus – also called “swine flu,” genetically engineered by hand sanitizer companies – was in the news. The CDC issued a new government mandate forcing all Americans to wash their fucking hands more. That was a direct quote, I believe. Someone fact-check me against MSNBC. Also in April, Lil'Kim test fired a missile that Biggie said could reach Hawaii. The Messiah couldn’t have a power from the Axis of Evil throwing bombs at his grandmother’s old house, so while he was doing frightening low-altitude passes over New York City, he sent the Seventh Fleet to Waikiki and texted Jong-Il a message that read “OMG Bad Kimmy! LOL :)“

After four months of back-breaking work screwing up our economy even more, Congress was mighty damn hungry. After roll call, they took a vote in the House. Mexican food was the choice by an overwhelming 257 to 178 vote. This influenced the Senate to confirm Sonia Sotomayor to the Supreme Court… because she went to law school, no one else wanted the job, and she had an awesome recipe for green chilli salsa.

At home, I was continuing my weekly wallet purge to the great health care plan in the sky, which you can read about in my July update. I had several paychecktomies throughout June and July while pop star and international pedophile of mystery Michael Jackson died, Sarah Palin tried to get the deposit back on her Alaskan Governor’s mansion, and Obama gave $4,500 to anyone with a fucked up ride. The billion dollar plan was to last 3 months, but to the delight of the DAA (American Dyslexia Association), “Cash for Clunkers” cost us $3 billion, and only lasted one month. While Democrats called the Clunker plan a success, Nancy Pelosi wanted the program ended because it was wasting taxpayer dollars that would be better spent on investigating Bush-era CIA lies. The Beltway Brain Trust then focused their enormous efforts (and our tremendous tax dollars) on fixing the nation’s health care system, completely ignoring the “why fix what’s not broke” adage taught to us by our grandparents. Fed up with politics as usual, Obama called the world leaders of Cambridge for a Beer Summit at the White House. When Professor Gates complained there were no pretzels or beer nuts, Obama blamed the Bush Administration… and Somali pirates.

In August, General McChrystal asked Chancellor Obama for 40,000 more troops to fight terrorist for truth and justice. But our fearless leader had better things to do for the next four months… like go to Copenhagan to hawk the City of Chicago like an aluminum siding salesman, receive a Nobel Peace Prize for not being George W. Bush, play golf on Martha’s Vineyard, and killing Ted Kennedy with kindness. Instead, he deployed Democrats and SEIU members to America’s Town Halls to defend the High Council's plan to shove an unwanted, highly expensive health care suppository up our mud cutters. It was – and remains – highly irritating that Congress keeps pushing their own agenda despite the wishes of the constituents. I wrote an update about it. Wanna read it? Here goes…

One of the funniest moments of the year was Dictator Obama’s address in front of a joint session of Congress, his 3,780th appearance on America’s television airwaves. While forecasting the pending doom and gloom that will befall the United States if health care reform is not passed, he was interrupted by Kanye West, who yelled out “You lie! The Republicans have the best health care plan of all time!” Pissed over the coverage of this outburst by FOX News, Obama ordered a missile strike on Rupert Murdock. He then attempted to earn money to pay for health care reform by making cameo appearances on The Red Green Show, Dancing with the Stars, reruns of Starsky and Hutch, Iron Chef America, ABC Wide World of Sports with Jim McKay, It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia, and Sponge Bob Square Pants. Obama was later presented an Academy Award (photo) and a green Masters Jacket (photo).

This fall, I did a little e-commerce web site designage, which later allowed me to get a couple new laptop computers. I wrote a little about that not long ago. Also this fall, some hippie demon spawn from Colorado went up-up and away in a beautiful balloon. No, not because he was a member of The 5th Dimension, but because his name was “Falcon” and he thought he could fly.

Let’s see,… what else? Oh, David Letterman admitted to having sex on the Appalachian Trail with Tiger Woods, who nearly had a complete 18-ho golf course built before being caught with his putter in the bunker; Khalid Sheikh Salahi and his wife crashed the White House State Dinner, and Obama appointed them to Czar of Fine Dining despite protest from Bobby Flay; The New York Yankees won the World Series… again. That makes 400 world championships at last count; and Rush Limbaugh was briefly hospitalized for chest pains when he realized the Obamas were also Christmasing in Hawaii.

With the bar set so low by 2009, it should be easy to have a better 2010. Here’s hoping your’s is a good one.

Hopefully, I’ll be able to do more frequent updates thanks to two – yes, two – new laptop computers I just got. I recently did some web page design for a tiny Seattle company, including an online store, and with the proceeds I opted to get a new laptop. My old laptop had seen better days. The hinges were so loose the 15″ display wouldn’t stay open; it would crash on my hands or flat backwards. The some keys on the keyboard wouldn’t type a character, and the battery was as useless as a limp dick in a whorehouse. So, a new lappy was long overdue.

Dude, I got a Dell… a Studio XPS 16, with an Intel Core 2 Duo P8700 2.53 GHz CPU, 500 GB hard drive, 4 GB of RAM, ATI Radeon Mobility 512 MB video, 15.6″ hi-def LCD wide-screen display with two megapixel webcam, dual layer slot-load DVD burner, 802.11n wifi, a backlit keyboard… oh, and something called Windows 7 Home Premium. It’s one sweet, kick-ass machine, even with that Microsoft virus on it.

One of the add-ons Dell tries to up-sell people with – along with faggoty-looking colors, carrying cases, services agreements, lo-jack services, and antivirus software – was a netbook. With the purchase of the Studio XPS 16, I was able to get the Mini 10v netbook for only $80 more. Eighty dollars? Who the hell wouldn’t buy a mini laptop for $80? I’m actually typing this blog update on it right now! It has an Intel Atom N270 CPU, 1 GB of RAM, a 160 GB hard drive, a 10.1″ LCD display, and Ubuntu netbook Linux 8.10 installed!

Of course, there was no way I was going to leave the factory-installed operating system on either machine. The netbook now dual boots between Mac OS X 10.6.2 (also known as “Snow Leopard“) and Ubuntu Linux 9.10 (codenamed “Karmic Koala“). It was a challenge to install a new OS on the netbook since there’s no optical drive. Everything had to be done with flash drives. I used three different USB flash drives to install both operating systems, with a bit of help from mydellmini.com for the Mac side of things.

For the big laptop, I trashed the Dell recovery partitions, and set it up to dual boot between Ubuntu 9.10 and – against my better judgement – Windows 7 (for those times I need a Windows machine, like hacking my phone). Dual booting with Windows was about as much fun as masturbating with steel wool and iodine. Windows is like an only-child with ADD, it doesn’t play well with others. Linux is like the stoned child of a hippie, and doesn’t give a shit. But I got it done, and it’s pretty fucking cool.

This is a short update, but I’ll make a resolution to update more frequently in 2010. I gave up making resolutions many many years ago because I could never go long without breaking them. Don’t wager on me keeping this one, either. It’s impossible to teach an old dog new tricks.