The Old Journals: Goodwill or Good for nothing?

Keeping in theme with retard rants I thought I’d post this little rant about a chair and a flea market that has standards.

Originally posted October 27, 2002

Every so often I have a caring moment. I’ll admit it’s rare, but they do come. We have had this recliner for years and I decided that it was time to get ride of it. Rather then just giving it away to one of my poorer friends. You know these people that aren’t really looking to have matching furniture. All they really care about is having something they can sit in. You have one of these friends if you walk into their house and they have a red bean bag instead of a lazy boy. If you step into their living room and the focal point is a bong, you know the people I speak of. Anyway, I decided that this buddy didn’t need the recliner. He has a bean bag for Christ sake. That just screams out comfort. There are people who need it more. So Goodwill was my destination. Okay, I’m just yanking on your chain. I wanted to get rid of this ugly piece of crap of a chair and none of my so called friends would take it, so I had no choice but to hall it off to Goodwill. I’d like to take this moment to speak to all of my buddies that refused my gift. (I hope you all shit out a tumor the size of plum.

I pull up to the backend of Goodwill where the furniture drop off is, and this guy comes out to review my chair to see if it fits their standards. Now I’m thinking if Goodwill uses the same standards to choose furniture as they did to hire this guy, my chair is as good as gone. This guy looked as if he had been trapped in a coalmine for the last twelve years and had just escaped.

He inspects this chair for like a good couple of minutes, walking around it and getting in close, shaking his head and scratching his snowball-stacked, dandruff head. And the whole time I’m thinking, it’s a fucking recliner and you work for Goodwill. Know your place in society, I mean this numb-fuck is acting like he’s an auto claims adjuster going over a totaled car.

Finally after standing outside of Goodwill for what I felt was longer then anyone with a real life should, he looked at me and says, “I’m sorry, but there is a little wearing on your chair, so we can’t accept it.”

Okay, here is the deal. The chair was good enough for me, why in the fuck isn’t good enough for them? I mean isn’t that a flat out attack on my character. I’ve been inside their store before. They sell shit. They sell used underwear, now maybe I’m insane, but that’s foul. Any store that has the policy of selling grandpa’s used old man underwear should have no problem with a chair with a little wear and tear. I mean come on, that’s complete bullshit! I could just see it, “I’m sorry we can’t take your recliner, but would you like this lovely pair of underwear. A sweet old man brought them in and donated them to us just before he dropped dead in the isle from colon cancer.”

And when did Goodwill start getting picky anyway? It’s not like I’m trying to sell it to them. It’s a donation for their fucking cause! They have employees with Down syndrome, which to me is a little misleading. Are you picky or not, just make up your minds! I have nothing against a person with Down syndrome but these are the people that need the furniture the most. They’re forty-five and living alone for the first time. I am Sam doesn’t need a chair that’s in perfect condition, you know what he needs? He needs a pair of eyes that don’t sink back into his skull that’s what he needs. He needs a head that doesn’t look like it was shoved inside a nest of bees. Give him a God who doesn’t punish him because his mommy and daddy had premarital sex and he’s a happy I am Sam.The bottom line here is they don’t ask for much. So just take my fucking recliner!

Look, you don’t bite the hand that feeds you. If someone offers you a gift for the good will of man, you say, “Thank you, that was very kind of you.” So I say, “Fuck Goodwill.” I wouldn’t donate a turd rapped in a box with a bow on top. You know what I ended up doing with that chair. I know this friend; he knows how to make things disappear. Truly though that’s the saddest part of this story, they could have had a recliner in decent condition but instead they’d rather see it dumped off on the side of the road somewhere. The ironic part of the story is that someone was probably on there way to the Goodwill and drove by my recliner, saw it off to the side, and thought “Hey, look at that, someone just dumped a perfectly good recliner. That’ll match the bean bag and bong ensemble that I have in my living room and I don’t even have to drive all the way down to Goodwill to buy one there.”

LB

Thank God for good television and better friends: The Old Journals

This next entry from the site vault was again a rant on the fascination we have with television. I figured why not keep up with the theme. Keep in mind this was written when NBC’s Friends had come to an end.

Originally Posted May 7, 2004

Thank God for good television and better friends:

Is it me or is the Friends phenomenon proving not that we as a society can fall in love and relate with six fictitious characters after a decade of watching them grow but proving that we as a society can’t commit to our own reality. We have so much time on are hands, and we are so lonely that rather then relate with and fall in love with six REAL people it’s easier to sit at home, grow fat and pretend that these NBC friends are our true buddies. This revelation doesn’t surprise me; we are so fucking gullible our heart gets snagged on the tard on the Goodwill commercial who gets to go on a trip to Hawaii. And when did tards get passes to fly anyway? Doesn’t that affect their eyes or something?

The show to watch last night was ER. On that episode, one of the main characters had a miscarriage because her baby’s umbilical cord was tied in a not. Then she had to go through twenty-four hours of labor just to deliver a dead baby… Now that’s quality entertainment from the peacock right there. If I had $2 million dollars to spend on advertisement I would have spent it on a commercial during that show. In fact I might have spent it on the Goodwill commercial just to show what happens when you live through an experience of getting you umbilical cord tied in a not. You end up retarded and working for a really nice flea so you can save up your minimum wage paycheck and after ten years can fly off to Hawaii. (That is if it’s permitted.)

Well I’m sorry if I am going to offend anyone who is apart of the Friends fan club. You’ll just have to wait in line behind March of Dimes. How dare I talk bad about the show to those who lived the last ten years inside watching the series while shoving anxiety medication down their throat because the thought of holding a real relationship with anyone but Chandler Bing throws them into a head spin. The thought of having a honest connection with another person is just something they can’t wrap their minds around. Well that’s like sneaking into a house of someone who suffers from Social Anxiety Disorder, blind folding them and tying them up, abducting them and driving them to Disneyland. What’s ironic is even the Corky from Goodwill gets out and travels once in awhile.

How these six people related with anyone anyway is beyond me, they always got along for the most part. They didn’t even fuck each other over like real friends do. You can’t tell me that Joey wouldn’t have banged Rachel in the shitter hole as soon as he found out that emotionally fagged up Ross loved her. COME ON, that’s how real buddies show their trust for each other. It’s like marking your territory.

“Oh, you love Rachel, I guess now is the time for me to show all of our friends who really is the alpha male. Hey Rachel… How YOU doing?”

I sat and watched the last episode and I don’t understand why everyone was so sad. Chandler and Monica were only moving to a house for fuck me sake. They probably were moving just outside of New York City, get a hold of yourselves. It’s not like in your pretend world you wouldn’t see each other again. Hey that’s what phones and cars are for. The only one moving out of state was Joey and it’s for his movie career. He’ll either be back in a year because he’s too fucking stupid to get a job as a waiter or he’ll learn how to suck cock like any good actor does to get decent steady work.

Ten years from now, we’ll probably watch an old episode and we will feel just like we did after the first time we saw a rerun of Threes Company…sadly embarrassed and robed because we wasted a decade of our time and $2 million dollars for a thirty second ad during their final episode.

But who are we to judge, we just wasted our time on 767 words and 12 paragraphs on a rant about Friends.

LB

Welcome to Blog Off

I would love to sit here and write a great and outstanding post to my first blog entry. However, I’ve still got a lot of work ahead of me before I can settle into this new toy. I will soon, if not by the end of the night have several of my old entries from back in 2002 through 2005 from my old site moved over and archived. So while the below blog entries make it look like I haven’t written a lot since then, I have, but this is the only way to get it moved over. That is the bad news.

The good news is I have a lot of old material worth reading. It is so good in fact that instead of dropping the material in all at once, like I have been doing, I will be posting some of my old and best rants every day until everything is up in the new blog.  I’m doing this because there is a lot of stuff I’ve written that many of the new fans have never read, and those who have read it, it is still worth reading. It will also help promote the new site and blog. So come back everyday because I promise it will be worth it. I hope the site and the blog will be something we can enjoy because it has been a shit load of work and it was all to get my site interactive again. On-the-other-hand, if you hate it, well then you can just BLOG OFF!

LB