I am posting this article without permission

As I said I have absolutley no right to post this, but it is the funniest thing I have ever read about working in a grocery store. It's all fucking true.

Note to the Onion: Tell me to take it down and I will do as requested, but know that I only post it out of admiration. Plus the fact that I want to read this over and over again and I am worried it will be deleted at a later date.

From the Onion - http://www.theonion.com/content/node/49199

You Never Truly Retire From Grocery-Bagging

By Shawn Meille ArchitectJune 7, 2006 Issue 42•23

Long before I got my fancy degree to build residential structures and office parks, I made a name for myself in a different trade. I spent seven long, hard years up to my elbows in some of the filthiest—and yes, bloodiest—brown paper sacks you'd ever want to see. It taught me a lot of hard lessons, some I'm grateful for, some best left unmentioned. But I won't ever forget them. Grocery bagging, like all the other dirty little jobs society requires but pretends don't exist, is easy to get into. Getting out is something else. It's like embedded shrapnel. Like a phantom limb.

I first strapped on the apron at a little eight-aisle place in downtown Tempe—a dusty hell of a city where the damned stalked the aisles. But just because it's a godforsaken sandpit doesn't mean its cans aren't placed on the bottom and cartons of eggs on top. And for the next few years, that was my life.

It was a quick-and-dirty intro to this shadowy and disreputable world. And I saw it all: From shabby little shame-filled deals in shabby little smoke-filled break-rooms over who would "take care" of the old lady with four bags full of new groceries and a colostomy bag full of old ones, to the late-night wet-work cleaning up the mess my less-meticulous comrades left behind, to the last-minute drop-off in the trunk of a blonde housewife's sedan before she takes off into the wind. It's a world most suspect but few see—and fewer own up to.

I was one of those few.

But not the proud. That's a different uniform altogether—one with honor and tradition, not one hidden in plain sight. Friend, odds are you wouldn't have lasted three shifts in my world. I wasn't even sure I would myself. It comes at you like a blur in training: This is a pallet-jack, mind your extremities; this is my brown paper bag, there are many like it, but this one is mine, with its own intricate calculus of weights and stresses which must become second nature if you hope to fill it in under 25 seconds; and this slim, simple, sinister tool is your box cutter. Today, everyone thinks they know what that means. Believe me, they don't. Not really.

And it pulls you in. Whether you like it or not, that adrenaline starts flowing the instant the PA system switches on with a hollow electric click like a thin glass rod snapping. Before the cashier even has time to call for carry-out, you're off that milk crate you were standing on (it's best not to ask about the milk crate), walking briskly, unconsciously, toward the registers. Next thing you know, two brown bags are on the counter in front of you, your catch-hand thrust against the far side of the bag, your dominant hand tossing canned goods and packaged meat off the crook of your elbow and into the catch-hand, which arranges it all in a complex, compact, orderly matrix that belies the chaotic shadow world in which you, the bag boy, operate.

It had to end for me—I always knew I wasn't a lifer—and I left under a cloud, though it wasn't as acrid as the cigarette haze in the break-room. Guy named Macon was running things that day, that hot, humid day. Macon found me in the meat-freezer trying to cool off with a Coke, said the place stank like a slaughterhouse. Anyway, I couldn't explain the Coke, not without a receipt, and with only a month left until the first day of school, I decided to walk away.

All those people are ghosts now. You say you'll stay in touch, but you never do. Bagging was the only thing you had in common, and bagging was the one thing you could never discuss. It was a job that needed doing, and we did it, and now it's over.

But there are times, Sundays mostly, when I take the car down to the ValuSave in the town where I live—you don't need to know which town—and when I hit the checkout, I'm there all over again. The greasy tread of the conveyor belt, the beep of the scanner, the rustle of the register detail tape, and, most haunting of all, the sharp crack of brown-bag paper, all make me realize I'll never be truly free of it. Never.

And, God help me, I don't want to be.

I love comments defending turn coats

I rarely get comments on my blog, go figure (10 million blogs and I expect 10 million visits), but when I do get some, I am so excited.

Before I start, so I don't actually get 10 million commenst, let me first say, I do not hate people, actual people (qualifier: people that I don't know who aren't famous, regular joe's, I don't hate people who go to work everyday that I have zero contact with, clear enough?). I don't hate soldiers, I especially don't hate Americans. BUT...I do hate the artficial image of America, with that I hate ignorant flag wavers who can't see shortcomings behind the stars and stripes and I fucking hate people who pretend to know what they are talking about.

So in short, no I do not hate the American people, I just hate the grand image of America. On to the comments...

My most recent comment came from a hand job that was looking for naked pictures of Tanith Belbin and found nothing but a short blast about why I hate turn coats. Well surprise, surprise an American stood up to say how much he loves turn coats.

If you really think about the entire American revolution and tie it to America today it is at least the most ridiculous turn of events in history and the fact that American's celebrate it is laughable. They truly are the jerks of jerks.

BSBlog (not brave enough to make his own rumblings public so don't bother looking for him) said...

Ass Hole (one word) get a grip (It's a rant page, why should I?) who would want to be a maple leaf for that matter when you could be stars and stripes you idiot (I almost don't know what this means), and by the way we love your Canadian Rejects down here because America is a land to those who are cast out, and cast down, and cast aways from foreign intities (? ...except for Mexican's right?). I will give you hell (what are you doing now? ...I wonder privately) the next time you put my countries (has two home countries I guess) hero George Washington on your hate list because he only did what is right you ass hole in going after those damn Brit's in a Just War (I would love to take a class on what America views is a "just" war of independence) of Indepenance from a Tyranical King George that taxes (Is he still getting money?) us to hell with out representation I might add donkey's hole. (I often close by adding "donkey's hole")

...I have to stop here because I don't know what just happened. Is this secret code that I need to decipher with some type of magic pen? I am sure he has a point, I just can't figure out what it is. I think he loves Canadians, and he loves weak underprivileged foreigners. That's fine, but why can't I get through one of your airports in under three hours?

Trying to decipher the coded message above I noticed a mention of taxes and King George. The taxes in question were to pay for military protection because new world pussies were afraid of everything, but were too cheap to pay for their own defence. The Indians, the French, the Spanish everybody hated the colonies at the time. What makes it ironic I guess is that when you flash forward 200 years, nobody spends more money on defence than the US. So the freedom achieved was the ability to tax more and spend on incredibly useless items as far as taxpayers daily lives were concerned. Britain was taxing to protect your borders, you tax to attack to borders of others, odd but whatever, I don't have to pay for it.

If you think about what is important in peoples daily lives, M-16's and F-18's aren't that high on the list, so while the commonwealth countries who stuck out the "Tyranny" now enjoy economic prosperity and public health care, you guys have a stagnant economy, some scary weapons and some even scarier enemies. You really should think about what independence got you.

On with your comments

...Canadians are Backwards, I just did not understand how fucked up until now (backwards or fucked up, Tomatoes, tomatoes)! By the way, sissy Canadians were granted their freedom from Brittan (is that a water filter?) and are still part of the British empire (commonwealth, but nice try), so I guess you all don't really know what freedom is (True we got our freedom through historical growth landmarks and peaceful discussion, you spent five years killing some people and 100 years paying for it, you win I guess). Thanks Miss King George! (challenging sexuality is always funny)

Washington was a traitor, Jackson was a murder, Jefferson owned and raped slaves, Kennedy was the son of a felon who used the Mafia to elect his son, the pill popping philanderer, Johnson and Hitler share a few more things than some would suggest they should, Nixon was impeached basically for genocide, Reagan was an actor...a fucking actor who was losing his mind aka King George, Bush 1 and 2 would kill everyone in New York for a 10 year supply of oil (so would I) and Clinton, well an 8 year failure who used company time (tax payer dollars) to fuck 19 year old girls, actually he is okay (I forgot to add that he killed his two dogs because he was stupid). So what are you saying, political leadership leaves something to be desired on both sides?

As a retort on Freedom...

I find the idea that America is a free society laughable. I have been many times and it is one of the most restricted places I have ever been. At home, I could buy beer at 18, I could drive at 16. I can see full nude girls in a dance club while drinking alcohol, I can watch a movie with the swearing in it on TV and I can say whatever the hell I want about whoever the hell I want without being branded a traitor. That is everyday, useable freedom because it applies to everyday life. Real freedom like that is something Americans lost years ago. Gated communities, private police, restricted clubs, private schools, private hospitals, inner cities in ruins, yeah you're all free. An old piece of paper that says free on it is just that, an old piece of paper. Too conservative to be free and to stupid to do anything about it. (Here's a clue, they're called War hawks, get rid of them, make them illegal and you might have a chance)

I can't wait until the red white and blue has to bend over for China (and not soon after India) the same way you had to for Japan in the 1980's. I am speaking economically here my friend, so don't, for all of our sakes, cast up the second world war (1939-1945, not December 1941 to 1945) Teh America of today is uncompetitive, unimaginative, untalented and of course hate filled, envious, ripe with social and racial tension, so basically all around fucked up.

But yeah, I should relax because you got freedom From England in 1776 and I had to wait for my 9th birthday. Be realistic.

Sports writers suck ass (golf not hockey...this time)

I just read an article about Michelle Wie and golf and it really pissed me off. I could give 2 shits about golf or girls and golf, but when one of the "Experts" starts accusing readers of something I get a little mad. Anyway here is Gene Wojciechowski's article

http://sports.espn.go.com/espn/columns/story?columnist=wojciechowski_gene&id=2472236

and here is the letter I e-mailed to him.

RE: Everything by Wie's score was Open-worthy
Your aggressive, know everything writing style made your Michelle Wie argument weak and basically laughable. Instead of trying to justify the woman’s existence on the planet, her age, gender, skill, childhood, how many teddy bears she has (take a breath already) why not try and back your argument up with statistics and performance? Argue one point not fifty and you may have a chance. I forgot, the stats aren’t there, the potential is, but the track record is not. It must be tough to write a legitimate story when the subject won’t play along.

To your credit, you were right it is the US Open, open to all, rules supported. Fine case closed, that was your story, but no, you have to go on at length about a 59th place finish, 1 over after two rounds against the best tier THREE golfers in the… area, that weekend, with time to burn, and a hundred bucks, etcetera. Michelle “walk on water” Wie finished 59th against people you yourself described as guys with $150 and a handicap.

Will she be a great golfer, sure, but don’t you think her game would improve immensely if she stopped trying to prove the world wrong and played a few LPGA events? She has never, regardless of her age, won anything at the pro level, so why would she try and make a leap? She is not better than her classified competition, she is after all genetically female and there is a pro tour for her to compete on. If she dominated like Anika for a few years maybe people could support her, but doing these things in an almost accusatory manner makes people dislike her. Why get your drivers license and try and run an F1 race, or buy a bicycle and event the Tour de France? A bit of a stretch, but in pro terms it is almost accurate.

So far Michelle Wie’s efforts to crack the men’s tour have made her a publicity stunt and a failure. I wonder why people have a hard time embracing her. To her credit, this time she tried to qualify legitimately. Again, another great subject for a story, she tried like everyone else, no sponsor’s exemption she put herself up there just like everyone else. It writes itself. Swing and a miss, your story was about critics with an axe to grind. You invented the critics and your story painted all your readers with the same brush.

My advice, relax its golf.