Tonight, I got a random Yahoo invite from someone I don’t know.  I don’t answer anything from people I don’t know.  Hell, it’s hard enough to get me to answer them from people I do know.
     But the amusing part about this one was that the invite was from someone named “fungal4u” with a bunch of numbers at the end.

     You got it … I won’t even respond to someone named “fun gal 4 u” … But prior to hitting, “Mark as Spam,” I couldn’t help but respond.

     “I don’t talk to fungus.”

     I mean, what a brilliantly thought out name.  Fungal, as in about, or pertaining to, fungus.  

     That struck me as almost as clever as when Experts Exchange had their original domain, “expertsexchange.com” — for those who want the very best Sex Change.  *rolls eyes*

     I do tend to deal with a lot of people who aren’t native English speakers.  A lot of times, I tend to learn their particular pidgins and respond back in kind so that they understand, because sometimes their English skills just aren’t good enough to “get it.”

     Back in ’95, I had a computer store.  I answered the phone one day to a Taiwanese customer.
     “Herro, Ma’k?  I having probrem.  Have computer, cannot get hard on.”
     *muffled laughter*  “Umm, it won’t turn on?”
     “No, cannot get hard on.”
     *laughter less muffled*  “I’m not sure I understand what you’re saying.  You cannot get a hard on?”
     “Haha, very fun!  No, cannot get hard on.”
     *laughing*  “Umm, that sounds like a personal problem.”  *turns on speaker phone*
     “No, Ma’k, have computer, computer on, no hard on.”
     *laughing hard*  “Are you on the Internet?”
     “No, cannot get hard on!  Come now!”
     *laughing hysterically* “I can send one of the girls over.”
     “You makey joke!  I no get hard on!  Send Robin!  Haha, very fun!”

     Anyway, as it turns out, the computer itself, which he mistakenly called the “hard drive,” would not turn on.  And it was due to bad wiring in the building.  But… Whatever…

     A repeat today, with a similar situation, left me fumbling for words when trying to speak to anyone else.  Typing was, of course, right out.

I taking they making wiper fluid for race cars?
Oh, God.
My English is suffering horrible.
This is what I get for talking to Chinese clients.
My English going Hell to the basket.

     Now I have to do a BIOS update … but can no find froppy dick.

     Lately, numerous people from a particular Kentucky county have seemed to inundate this blog with ridiculous slanders, accusations and threats due to the site being linked from a popular gossip website.
     The reason I say “seemed to inundate” is because this situation is not new.  I’ve had to deal with these sorts of comments on a daily basis for many months.  I just finally got sick of deleting them every day and leaving everything unsaid.  I also get sick of the same sorts of crap on my business telephone.  It has gotten to the point that if I don’t get at least two death threats a day from people in, or connected to, that particular Kentucky county, I begin to consider that the chore of putting up with it may be over.
     Of course, the next day, when it all starts again, my hopes are dashed.

     In the course of these discussions, I referred to the residents of Leslie County, Kentucky as “fungus” and “cockroaches.”  I would like to apologize for my severe lack of control when making these comments, because even though they were said in retaliation, it’s no excuse for me to lose my temper in that manner.

     It was an unfair comparison.  Especially to fungus and cockroaches everywhere.  And to these lower life forms, I apologize.

     Southern California never gets much in the way of rain.  At least, not in the way that the rest of the country gets it.  For the most part, “rain” to SoCal is pretty much considered “heavy fog,” or “drizzle” in an extreme case.  But over the last few days, they’ve experienced a normal, every-day, East Coast sort of rain which has caused numerous traffic accidents, evacuation planning and mass hysteria.

     I remember a particular rain back in the early 90’s which would have been considered a “light shower” to Knoxville.  However, the occurrence in SoCal was so foreign that it prompted numerous news reports.
     A local radio show — the station and location escapes me at the present — did a spoof news report about the incident.
     “Sir, can you tell me what happened here?” asked the fake reported.
     “Yeah, man, like… There was all this water in the air?”
     “Yes?”
     “Then it landed…”

     The specific storm included up to an inch of accumulation, thunder, lightning, and winds in excess of five miles per hour.  A woman on Rodeo Drive experienced water so deep that it reached nearly half way up her stiletto heel.  The State of California was immediately contacted to compensate her for the trauma.

     But the devastation of nearly twenty years ago was not restricted simply to California.  Thousand of activists flooded then-President George H.W. Bush’s office with demands that he take control of the disaster, which left Southern California’s homeless population demoralized and wet.
     Much like Hurricane Katrina, which left nearly one million homeless without homes, nearby Nevada was subsequently inundated with an influx of storm survivors trying to find their beloved boxes.

     I only hope that the events of past are not repeated during this crippling catastrophe, and that FEMA will respond accordingly in their attempts to offer shelter to the millions affected by this light rain.

     “Mark, what’s wrong with you today?” (concerned)
     “Sorry, a little shaky.  Low blood sugar… I’ve been busting my ass here all day, and I need food… now…”
     “Man, I need this shit finished, then you can grab some food…” (annoyed)
     “I’m so hungry, I could eat a whore…”
     “You mean horse, right?” (laughing)
     “No, I’m really that hungry… and thinking how nice that’d be boiled in coconut milk, with shallots, garlic and green chili paste…”
     “Uhh, Mark, you’re disturbed, man.” (worried)
     “Ya know, you’re starting to look pretty tasty, yourself.”
     “Uhh, okay, umm…” (more worried)
     “Now you’re starting to sound like our new President, which is good.  I happen to like a mixture of dark and light meat in a curry…”
     “Yeah, okay, uhh… I mean… go grab something…” (fear)
     “I’ll be back soon.”
     “Nah, that’s okay… Just, uhh.. I mean… you can finish whenever…” (scared)

     It was amusing to hear the door locking as I walked out of his office…

     …and they call themselves “headhunters.” *rolls eyes*