© 2008 Stan Spire
Teachers shouldn’t be dating students. At least, that’s become a big taboo over the years since I was in high school.
My school was rural, centralized. Back in the day it wasn’t uncommon for a male teacher, fresh out of college, to date one of the babes in the senior class.
One girl in my graduating class was all smiles on the last day of school, wearing a sparkling engagement ring. She had been stepping out with a science teacher. I guess she got special tutoring in biology.
There were at least three cases of male teachers bagging babes from various senior classes at Cowflop Central around the time of my imprisonment.
One day I was sitting in study hall. The desks were shoved together, side by side, to squeeze in the maximum amount of cabbages in neat rows. I was in the front row, near the teacher’s desk.
A senior babe was to my right, lost in her thought. (I do mean thought, not thoughts; she was a stereotypical blonde.)
I noticed the absentee list on the teacher’s desk. I reached over, only cutting across a small corner of the desk on my right. I glanced at the list, ascertained one of my friends wasn’t around that day, and then placed the sheet back on the teacher’s desk.
The study hall teacher noticed my action, thinking it was inappropriate.
“You know,” he said, “you supposed to excuse yourself when you reach in front of someone.”
“Really,” I replied. I glanced at the babe next to me. “Sorry, she blends into the woodwork so well, I didn’t see her.”
The teacher’s face became red –- not with embarrassment, but with rage. He sat there and boiled.
I found out later the pretty blonde senior next to me was his girlfriend.
Tough luck, ya pedophile.
Sunday, April 13, 2008
Wednesday, April 2, 2008
Stories. I Hear Stories.
© Copyright 2008 Stan Spire
“They’re a bunch of crooks. They erased part of the videotape of the last town meeting.”
Indeed. Well, instead of telling everyone about it one afternoon at the barbershop, why don’t you contact the proper authorities?
I would be more than happy to see crooked politicians get theirs. But stories – rumors – mean nothing unless backed up with some solid info or leads.
A while ago someone emailed me about a local politician who used taxpayer funds to deck out a city vehicle with a custom leather interior and paint job. The vehicle was for his personal use while he supposedly served the voters. The pol in question has been the subject of other stories about misusing funds, so this one might be true. Is it? The emailer claimed to have inside knowledge. But that person never followed up with more details.
Maybe the emailer was on the level. But, sorry, I ain’t falling for rovean (Karl Rove) tactics.
If you want to nail a crook, provide evidence. And don’t mention it to me – pass it along to the right enforcement agency. Contact the media if there’s a cover-up and the authorities are in on it. Then, if all official and mainstream channels prove to be dead ends, it’s time to try a loose cannon blogger. But you still have to come across with some proof.
Telling stories at the barbershop or in an email won't bring about justice.
“They’re a bunch of crooks. They erased part of the videotape of the last town meeting.”
Indeed. Well, instead of telling everyone about it one afternoon at the barbershop, why don’t you contact the proper authorities?
I would be more than happy to see crooked politicians get theirs. But stories – rumors – mean nothing unless backed up with some solid info or leads.
A while ago someone emailed me about a local politician who used taxpayer funds to deck out a city vehicle with a custom leather interior and paint job. The vehicle was for his personal use while he supposedly served the voters. The pol in question has been the subject of other stories about misusing funds, so this one might be true. Is it? The emailer claimed to have inside knowledge. But that person never followed up with more details.
Maybe the emailer was on the level. But, sorry, I ain’t falling for rovean (Karl Rove) tactics.
If you want to nail a crook, provide evidence. And don’t mention it to me – pass it along to the right enforcement agency. Contact the media if there’s a cover-up and the authorities are in on it. Then, if all official and mainstream channels prove to be dead ends, it’s time to try a loose cannon blogger. But you still have to come across with some proof.
Telling stories at the barbershop or in an email won't bring about justice.
Officially Spring
© 2008 Stan Spire
Spring is “officially” here, so declared the local TeeVee weatherman. Arrived on March 20th, 2008 – the spring equinox.
Maybe it’s spring in your neck of the woods but here in NENYland winter ain’t over until late April. And even then it might snow in May. One year it snowed on the last weekend in May – Memorial Day weekend, the “official” start of summer vacation season.
It doesn’t matter which local TeeVee news you watch; they all whine about the weather. Where have these idiots been? Winters usually drag on around here; this ain’t down south where the flowers are blooming.
Since when does the vernal equinox mean that spring is supposed to suddenly break out all over? There’s this thing called CLIMATE. And the climate around here means it’s more like the arctic tundra than Florida.
Of course, all the winter yahoos are happy with snow on the ground. They’re stupidly happy with their toys, snowmobiles and skis – until they bash their brains into trees.
So there is an advantage to six months of winter: such a long season weeds out the weak minded from the herd.
Spring is “officially” here, so declared the local TeeVee weatherman. Arrived on March 20th, 2008 – the spring equinox.
Maybe it’s spring in your neck of the woods but here in NENYland winter ain’t over until late April. And even then it might snow in May. One year it snowed on the last weekend in May – Memorial Day weekend, the “official” start of summer vacation season.
It doesn’t matter which local TeeVee news you watch; they all whine about the weather. Where have these idiots been? Winters usually drag on around here; this ain’t down south where the flowers are blooming.
Since when does the vernal equinox mean that spring is supposed to suddenly break out all over? There’s this thing called CLIMATE. And the climate around here means it’s more like the arctic tundra than Florida.
Of course, all the winter yahoos are happy with snow on the ground. They’re stupidly happy with their toys, snowmobiles and skis – until they bash their brains into trees.
So there is an advantage to six months of winter: such a long season weeds out the weak minded from the herd.
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
Shmmoms & Shmucks
© 2008 Stan Spire
With the dismal economy - particularly rising gasoline prices - one car dealer is so desperate to move gas guzzlers off his lot that he’s using a bit of sleaze to gain attention.
Sex sells in a 30 second TeeVee spot featuring a high school student named Andy and his mother who has an unusual nickname.
The ad opens with Andy standing by his hallway locker, talking with a friend. He’s a very popular guy at his high school. Other guys keep walking by, asking him for rides after school.
After Andy leaves, a girl asks: “What’s that all about?”
A dopily grinning guy answers: “Andy’s mother is a shmmom.”
“A shmmom?”
Dopey Grin explains: “A smoking hot minivan mom.”
Then we see a red minivan pull into a driveway. Two guys get out and thank Mrs. Thompson for a ride. Andy, obviously embarrassed, walks quietly into his house while his mother – a hot-looking older blonde – turns around and says good-bye to the guys.
As they walk away, one guy says to the other: “What a shmmom!”
(Video Link)
Apparently both guys suffer from arthritis aggravated by their tight jeans. That’s why they walk away so stiffly.
Yup, this ad is a mistake – a boner, if you will.
This ad evinces such porn potential but at least the sponsor plays it a bit coy. At the same time there’s a fine line between a shmmom and a MILF. (If you’re not familiar with the term MILF, Google it on your own. This a family blog, ya sweaty pervert.)
If you go to the car dealer’s site, you’ll see how he takes the edge off the teenage boy sex fantasy angle by displaying a pseudo-dictionary entry for shmmom:
SHMMOM (SHMMOM) n. 1. A female parent who indulges her inner beauty by purchasing (specifically at Goss Dodge) a Dodge Grand Caravan for the purpose of letting that inner beauty out. 2. Also known as Smokin Hot Minivan Mom. ed. 1. The selfless act of having purchased a Grand Caravan from Goss Dodge to have let her inner beauty out. ing. 1. The selfless act of indulging (purchasing) in a Grand Caravan from Goss Dodge to let her inner beauty out. (Link)
The dealer uses the term “inner beauty” instead of sex. Like hiding behind the euphemism erotica when it’s still porn.
Apparently the TeeVee ad was created for a Vermont car dealer. If you’ve ever been to Vermont, you would know that any high school boys usually encounter shwmoms: sleazy hefty welfare moms.
With the dismal economy - particularly rising gasoline prices - one car dealer is so desperate to move gas guzzlers off his lot that he’s using a bit of sleaze to gain attention.
Sex sells in a 30 second TeeVee spot featuring a high school student named Andy and his mother who has an unusual nickname.
The ad opens with Andy standing by his hallway locker, talking with a friend. He’s a very popular guy at his high school. Other guys keep walking by, asking him for rides after school.
After Andy leaves, a girl asks: “What’s that all about?”
A dopily grinning guy answers: “Andy’s mother is a shmmom.”
“A shmmom?”
Dopey Grin explains: “A smoking hot minivan mom.”
Then we see a red minivan pull into a driveway. Two guys get out and thank Mrs. Thompson for a ride. Andy, obviously embarrassed, walks quietly into his house while his mother – a hot-looking older blonde – turns around and says good-bye to the guys.
As they walk away, one guy says to the other: “What a shmmom!”
(Video Link)
Apparently both guys suffer from arthritis aggravated by their tight jeans. That’s why they walk away so stiffly.
Yup, this ad is a mistake – a boner, if you will.
This ad evinces such porn potential but at least the sponsor plays it a bit coy. At the same time there’s a fine line between a shmmom and a MILF. (If you’re not familiar with the term MILF, Google it on your own. This a family blog, ya sweaty pervert.)
If you go to the car dealer’s site, you’ll see how he takes the edge off the teenage boy sex fantasy angle by displaying a pseudo-dictionary entry for shmmom:
SHMMOM (SHMMOM) n. 1. A female parent who indulges her inner beauty by purchasing (specifically at Goss Dodge) a Dodge Grand Caravan for the purpose of letting that inner beauty out. 2. Also known as Smokin Hot Minivan Mom. ed. 1. The selfless act of having purchased a Grand Caravan from Goss Dodge to have let her inner beauty out. ing. 1. The selfless act of indulging (purchasing) in a Grand Caravan from Goss Dodge to let her inner beauty out. (Link)
The dealer uses the term “inner beauty” instead of sex. Like hiding behind the euphemism erotica when it’s still porn.
Apparently the TeeVee ad was created for a Vermont car dealer. If you’ve ever been to Vermont, you would know that any high school boys usually encounter shwmoms: sleazy hefty welfare moms.
Sunday, March 16, 2008
Bank’s Mistake: Your Problem
© 2008 Stan Spire
Computer error
No such thing.
Computers don’t make mistakes. Humans do. Computers are human designed, human built, human programmed, and human operated. All that humanity means a computer doesn’t err on its own.
So how did the bank explain the discrepancy in my checking account? So-called computer error.
It’s a good thing that I kept a paper trail, i.e., my ATM receipts. I was reviewing them when I noticed that my balance had roller-coastered from high to low. I was worried a check for my rent hadn’t cleared yet; it was going to bounce. I had taken out a fair amount of cash, assuming that there was enough in my account.
So I visited the bank the next day, requesting a print out for the last two weeks. I compared the print out with my ATM slips. It didn’t match; no record of the roller coaster ride.
A clerk explained there had been a “computer error” that had done some doubling to everyone’s account. My ATM slips showed that the mistake hadn’t been fixed for a few days.
Luckily my rent check had already been processed and there was enough money in my account.
And if my check had bounced? Well, the bank apparently isn’t responsible for “computer errors.” I’m supposed to watch over my account down to the last penny, 24/7.
The bank clerk advised me that I didn’t need my ATM receipts; I should throw them out.
Fat chance. I made sure to safely file them in case any more human error committed with a bank computer happens again.
Never destroy a paper trail.
Especially if you have limited means like yours truly. Then they’ll really screw ya.
Banking is the root of all evil.
Computer error
No such thing.
Computers don’t make mistakes. Humans do. Computers are human designed, human built, human programmed, and human operated. All that humanity means a computer doesn’t err on its own.
So how did the bank explain the discrepancy in my checking account? So-called computer error.
It’s a good thing that I kept a paper trail, i.e., my ATM receipts. I was reviewing them when I noticed that my balance had roller-coastered from high to low. I was worried a check for my rent hadn’t cleared yet; it was going to bounce. I had taken out a fair amount of cash, assuming that there was enough in my account.
So I visited the bank the next day, requesting a print out for the last two weeks. I compared the print out with my ATM slips. It didn’t match; no record of the roller coaster ride.
A clerk explained there had been a “computer error” that had done some doubling to everyone’s account. My ATM slips showed that the mistake hadn’t been fixed for a few days.
Luckily my rent check had already been processed and there was enough money in my account.
And if my check had bounced? Well, the bank apparently isn’t responsible for “computer errors.” I’m supposed to watch over my account down to the last penny, 24/7.
The bank clerk advised me that I didn’t need my ATM receipts; I should throw them out.
Fat chance. I made sure to safely file them in case any more human error committed with a bank computer happens again.
Never destroy a paper trail.
Especially if you have limited means like yours truly. Then they’ll really screw ya.
Banking is the root of all evil.
Tuesday, March 4, 2008
Complicating The Simple
© 2008 Stan Spire
Leave it to the hospital to transform the simple act of peeing in a cup into a complex operation.
All I wanted to do was leave a specimen. I checked the directions posted on the wall. Circumcised or uncircumcised? OK, I pick column B. Now begins the process, step by step.
Carefully wash your hands with soap. Completely dry your hands. Uncap the plastic specimen container. Then take an antiseptic towelette and carefully clean the end of your penis. DO NOT TOUCH THE END OF YOUR PENIS UNTIL THE SPECIMEN IS PROPERLY COLLECTED. Now stand over the toilet, start a stream, then stop. Only resume the stream to leave a sample in the container. Then cap the container. IMPORTANT: MAKE SURE THE CONTAINER IS SEALED TIGHT.
Wait a couple of days to hear from your doctor.
And what are the results of your urine test?
ANALYSIS: YOUR HANDS ARE SOAPY AND THERE’S ANTISEPTIC ON THE TIP OF YOUR PENIS.
Leave it to the hospital to transform the simple act of peeing in a cup into a complex operation.
All I wanted to do was leave a specimen. I checked the directions posted on the wall. Circumcised or uncircumcised? OK, I pick column B. Now begins the process, step by step.
Carefully wash your hands with soap. Completely dry your hands. Uncap the plastic specimen container. Then take an antiseptic towelette and carefully clean the end of your penis. DO NOT TOUCH THE END OF YOUR PENIS UNTIL THE SPECIMEN IS PROPERLY COLLECTED. Now stand over the toilet, start a stream, then stop. Only resume the stream to leave a sample in the container. Then cap the container. IMPORTANT: MAKE SURE THE CONTAINER IS SEALED TIGHT.
Wait a couple of days to hear from your doctor.
And what are the results of your urine test?
ANALYSIS: YOUR HANDS ARE SOAPY AND THERE’S ANTISEPTIC ON THE TIP OF YOUR PENIS.
Haunted School
© 2008 Stan Spire
It sits there, empty. Abandoned.
For years it was a thriving educational factory, carving down rough round pegs to fit into the same precise square hole. But birth rates drop, population shifts, and so the elementary school is now closed.
On the occasions when I pass by in a car, I briefly envision the old days with kids running around, playing games, friendly with each other. Except for the bullies picking on me.
I’m pinned to the ground, some redneck asshole showing how he’s the alpha male of the pack.
Where were the teachers? Who knows? This was years before school shootings made the public aware of how bullying could drive a victim to retaliate violently. Being bullied was just part of growing up. A rite of passage.
I have no good memories when I see that silent school. It wouldn’t bother me a bit if it was bulldozed, razed to dust and carted away.
Out of sight, out of mind. Buried history.
I’m still a rough, round peg.
And I don’t tolerate bullies.
It sits there, empty. Abandoned.
For years it was a thriving educational factory, carving down rough round pegs to fit into the same precise square hole. But birth rates drop, population shifts, and so the elementary school is now closed.
On the occasions when I pass by in a car, I briefly envision the old days with kids running around, playing games, friendly with each other. Except for the bullies picking on me.
I’m pinned to the ground, some redneck asshole showing how he’s the alpha male of the pack.
Where were the teachers? Who knows? This was years before school shootings made the public aware of how bullying could drive a victim to retaliate violently. Being bullied was just part of growing up. A rite of passage.
I have no good memories when I see that silent school. It wouldn’t bother me a bit if it was bulldozed, razed to dust and carted away.
Out of sight, out of mind. Buried history.
I’m still a rough, round peg.
And I don’t tolerate bullies.
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