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Fucking with the Anagram function of burns' IRC bot...these are some of the choicest so far.

'Richard Milhous Nixon' anagrams to: No! I shun horrid climax!
'spiro agnew' anagrams to: Grow a penis.
'watergate scandal' anagrams to: Rat ace sweat gland.
'president of the united states' anagrams to: The stupidest defenestration.
'the good reverend roger' anagrams to: Revenged or red-hot ogre.
'Mourning Star' anagrams to: Sort manuring.
'Dwight David Eisenhower' anagrams to: He did view the war doings.
'george washington' anagrams to: War on: he gets going.

I didn't get the memo.  I've been wondering where the name came from, and who it was, and why he seemed so familiar...


I had no idea Rog.

I thought you were MIA.

apparently I don't pay very good attention.

http://ruined-angel.deviantart.com/art/Doorknob-88286405

You will need:

Freshly ground mixed peppers (I used the Pepper Medley from Hannaford)
Salt
Freshly pressed garlic (Garlic Powder is allowable also)
Oregano, Parsley, etc (Pre-Mixed Italian Seasoning works for me)
Extra-Virgin Olive Oil (YES It has to be olive oil, don't be so fucking cheap)
Fresh Boneless/Skinless Chicken  (Slice this with a VERY sharp, non-serrated knife into bite-sized pieces while it's still cold)

Heat up your frying pan on the stove, you want the metal to be warm.  Add the olive oil slowly until you've got between 1/4 and 1/2 inch in the pan.  Once the oil is boiling hot, add the chicken to make a single layer on the bottom of the pan (the chicken will cook quickly, so don't worry if it doesn't all fit the first time.)  while it's cooking on the bottom, add your spices to the top, uncooked layer.  After you've added the spices, use a pair of tongs or whatever you have handy to flip the pieces of chicken over and finish cooking them.  (If you want to cook the pieces until they're a little crispy, go for it, it's awesome!)

Rinse and repeat till all of your chicken is cooked.  Nothing special, but it's delicious and can be served with just about anything.  (We cooked up some garlic/herb rice-a-roni and served the chicken on top of that.)

So, many many years ago, for about 5 years in fact, I ran an interwebs radio show.  Once a week, using MS Streaming Server (Shoutcast had not yet been invented)

And it was quite enjoyable, but as time went on, my life didn't allow for this sort of thing anymore.  But I've been thinking it'd be nice to start it back up, and I'm thinking, why not a Discordian Radio Station?

Let me explain...


The beauty of shoutcast, is that the server can run from a single, central, location, while the various DJs can broadcast to the server, which then streams it to the teeming masses of listeners, meaning the server takes all the brunt of the users sucking it's bandwidth, while the DJ only has to have enough upstream to handle broadcasting to just the server.

What does that mean?

Let's say we had a shoutcast server (Not too expensive to buy hosting for this)

When it was time for My show, I would start broadcasting to the server.  When it was time for the next DJ, they start to broadcast.

All this requires is that someone has Windows, Linux, or (possibly) MacOS.  And a few pieces of 100% free software.  (of course, having a music collection, and a microphone wouldn't hurt either.)

It's actually really easy to get set up, and honestly, I think this could be a lot of fun.  We have a LOT of creative people here, so I'm sure we could have all sorts of different shows, talk, music, skits, etc.

Anyway.  Obviously I'm not gonna drop any money on this to buy server space unless people are actually interested.


So let's hear what everyone thinks eh?

Taken from http://mjranum.deviantart.com/journal/17352963/#journal

Having an opinion is not an art-form.

It's pretty easy, really. All you need to do is think about something for a little while and your opinion will form. But - did you catch the important word in that sentence - you have to think. If you're capable of thinking, you're instantly qualified to hold an opinion. Conversely, if you're incapable of thinking, all you can do is hold someone else's.

How to Have an Opinion
There are some rules to having an opinion. First off, your opinion shouldn't just fall out of the sky. Secondly, your opinion should be based on something. Lastly, you should be honest with yourself about where your opinion came from, and what it's based on. Knowing what your opinion is based on is absolutely crucial to being able to defend it, as well as being honest with yourself about its value.

Let me give you an example: you turn on the TV and some talking head is ranting about how such-and-such is a huge crisis. Now, there are several things you can do - first off, you can turn off your brain and simply accept his opinion as yours: "uh, OK. it's a huge crisis." Or, you can think about it and maybe you'll get inspired to do a little research, gain a little knowledge, and form your opinion based on your own thoughts. Of course, your research could still be bad - or you might just be a fool - but you're now able to support your opinion with some ideas and knowledge of your own. It doesn't make you more or less right it just makes your opinion more or less strongly held.

So, if you're intellectually honest, and you're standing around at a cocktail party, and someone says "such-and-such is a huge crisis" you've got an opinion. At that point, you can either hold your silence, agree, disagree - whatever you like. But here's where it gets fun: if you want to torture someone whose opinion you disagree with you can simply cut to the chase and ask them: "how did you form your opinion?" If you're like me, and conversation is a blood-sport, this is a devastating strategy; it doesn't sound like an attack although, in effect, it's like an underwater shark-bite: the pain just builds and builds. What's nice is that, if the "victim" actually has an opinion, they won't be bothered - they'll be able to rattle on and hold forth about how they got there. But, oh, the poor chumps whose "opinion" is really just that they're blindly repeating something they heard on television!!! All they can do is thrash around in circles in the water, leaking tasty blood, trying to avoid saying, "well, it's what Oprah says..."

Carrying around someone else's opinion is like walking around with an empty .44 magnum. It's a big heavy-looking gun - but if it's empty you're just asking for someone to take it from you and pistol whip your teeth out with it. Someone like me, who'll do it for fun and smile the whole time.

Being Wrong
If you're able to explain where your opinion came from, then you're also going to have at least some idea of the underlying set of beliefs or facts that you based it on. That way, when someone challenges your opinion, you're not defenseless - you can quickly outline how you got there and one of two things will happen:
a) They'll shut up and slink off because they got their opinion from a television show or someone else. Be gracious as your broken foe abandons the battlefield.
b) They'll attempt to challenge your underlying knowledge, or adjust your beliefs. Maybe that'll succeed or maybe it will fail, but you're in great shape either way. Because if one of your underlying pieces of data is wrong, you can say, "Oh, fooey! I misunderstood X, Y, Z - and that's what I formed my opinion on. So let's just say I've got to go back and do more fact-checking."

That's how to be wrong with style. It's intellectually honest, and there's really nothing anyone can do to you once you've explained how you got from A to Z based on your underlying assumptions, if they were wrong. By the way, this is the core of Science - being wrong with style. One of the most moving stories I've ever read was an account of one scientist who had formulated an important theory in Physics, who happened to be present in a colloquium in which a younger scientist thoroughly demolished his life's work. The senior scientist stood up, walked quickly to the front of the room, and shook the young scientist's hand and thanked him for clearing things up so nicely. I tell you no lie: I get all choked up whenever I think about it. That's style!

But WTF Marcus?
How did I get on this topic? It's a bit far from photography, or talking about pretty girl's butts, or cool artists, isn't it?

Well, it's been bothering me for a while, because of a couple of interactions that have happened here on DA. First, there was little miss cupcake, who I crushed like an ant with my iron fist of contempt (here: [link] ). And then there were a couple of people who made silly comments about art-versus-porn when one of my pictures (eek! a nude!) was on the "popular" page one day. I'm not going to resurrect those discussions, I promise, but what really struck me was the reaction that I got when I engaged ( you might say 'counterattacked' or even 'attacked' ) their ideas. Did I get a return argument? No. Did I get people pointing out flaws in my opinion? No. What I got, over and over again was this:
"It's just my opinion"

There are so many things wrong with that, it's hard to know where to start!!

First off, my opinion is never just my opinion. It's not merely what I think. It's something I crafted, polished, carried around with me (sometimes for decades!) - sometimes in my heart, and other times in my pocket. Or, maybe, down the front of my pants. But it's my opinion not "just."
It's. My. Damn. Opinion.

When someone says "it's just my opinion" they may as well be saying "This is just an opinion I picked up from some VJ on MTV, didn't really think about, and have been carrying around with me. So I don't mind just dropping it if you're gonna give me push-back."

Excuse me, but if you're not willing to defend your opinion, then just drop it right now. You're not worth talking to because you don't apparently believe in anything. Get back on the couch and watch some TV and keep quiet when the adults are talking.

The Tyranny of Balance
Here's my opinion: we're dealing with left-over political correctness. The main tenet of the political correctness ideology was, basically, moral relativism applied broadly to culture. We weren't allowed to say that someone was smarter, or stronger than someone else - they were "differently abled." We weren't allowed to say that one idea was better than another; they all had to be considered equally. Consequently, we're dealing with a whole generation of young people who grew up with the idea that "my opinion is just as good as yours" - simply by virtue that it exists. This attitude was particularly prevalent among post-modernist intellectuals - to the point where some of them tried to argue that The Laws Of Physics were a cultural phenomenon. As if, somehow, western thought and science were victimizing the more touchy-feely laws of not-quite-physics - laws which would be equally valuable in a different social and intellectual context.

Yeah, well, only if your social and intellectual context is "bullshit."

Of course everyone is entitled to their opinion. But simply having an opinion doesn't make it right. Being able to defend it is what makes it right. More importantly: truth is not a democratic process. Once upon a time Copernicus was the only person on Earth who knew that we orbit The Sun. If they'd taken a vote, the score would have been:
Against: (Earth's entire population - 1)
For: Copernicus
Winner: Copernicus

He had an opinion, and he could defend it. And he was right. Unfortunately, for him, the forces of orthodoxy had an ad hominem argument on their side called "The Inquisition."

As I write this, I am primarily thinking of religion as an example of the non-democratic nature of opinions. I listen to a lot of BBC radio and NPR in my car, and before the Republican nomination for president was sewed up by McCain there was considerable discussion about whether candidate X's religion mattered or whether candidate Y's religion mattered. Usually, that was in the context of "will the electorate care if this presidential candidate believes that Earth is only 6,000 years old and that the whole universe was snapped into existence by a supreme being with a bizarre sense of humor?" Or "will the electorate care that this candidate believes that if you do a good job here on Earth you get an afterlife in which you are given your own planet to be in charge of?" And everyone was very careful to dance around the obvious, huge, reeking, pile of poop on the floor - namely - that anyone who actually believed something so stupid is an idiot! The world should scream in outrage and terror at the very idea that they'd be given control over the United State's thermonuclear arsenal! Simply having an opinion - even if you're a president or a pope - doesn't make your opinion any good unless you can defend it in the battlefield of ideas. The usual defense of people with weak, flimsy, undefensible ideas is:
"It's just my opinion"
"Hey, you should respect my beliefs."

If we were still respecting the beliefs of the alchemists, you wouldn't be reading this journal entry on a computer. If we were still respecting the beliefs of Copernicus' tormentors, your GPS wouldn't work. If we were still respecting the beliefs of idiots who believe that "the rapture" could happen any day now so there's no need to worry about global warming, we'd, uh, ur, have a - global superpower that didn't care about global warming? Bad example. My point: just because you believe it doesn't make it true. If you want to sit at the grown up table, you've got to be able to back it up.

It's this easy:
Have opinions you can defend.
Have beliefs that are grounded in reality and are worthy of respect.

:heart: you all; especially those of you who disagree with me!
mjr.

[Why the hell are you here?]

http://hammerzeit.blogspot.com/

Inspired by roger's style...  This hit me tonight.

Why the hell are you here?

Mixing it with the primates.  Dragging your knuckles and picking fleas?  OOK OOK! OOK OOK MOTHERFUCKER!

You're not like them and you know it!  You want to escape somewhere and be you? The REALLY REAL you?  TOO BAD! YOU CAN'T!  Unless you wanna be the next shack dwelling wacko...  But there IS something you can do.

Hopefully they already think you're one of them, so we can skip the lesson in camouflage.  Now, look around, there's some apes that are "different" aren't there?  They don't act like the other apes.  They look, and act and talk contrary to the rest.  You might even have spent some time with them, or thought maybe you'd belong better with them.  Want the secret? They're exactly like the rest! If any of them actually "gets" it and see's what you can see, they've already lost the game, they've already blown their chance to change things.  Since they chose to wear a different type of fur than the other, "normal" apes, they've been labeled as "Outsiders", or "Threats" or "Anarchists" or worse.  Any message they might have had, is now completely lost in preconceived notions.

So you, you're still in the clear right?  The rest of the knuckle draggers think you're just like them?  Are you starting to see just how great an opportunity you have?  The best place to be when you want to change things, improve things, or even just shake things up is right where you are, the inside!



So you want to start things, but where to begin?



The Discordian Society might be a place to start.

http://www.principiadiscordia.com

We're not waiting for you, but if you hurry there might still be some fun left when you get here.



Reverend M. Star K.S.C.

[LISTEN UP!]

ALL RIGHT YOU GODDAMNED LIBERAL HIPPIE PINKO SCUMBAG CRYBABIES

LISTEN UP!

George Bush cares about you!  He cares about your freedom, and your god given right as citizens of this most glorious of God's blessed nations, The United States of America!

He understands that most of you have been brainwashed by the liberal media to believe that war is bad, but that's simply not true.  Our country was founded by WAR, you wouldn't want to be sitting around in the afternoon sipping tea and eating scones and blessing the QUEEN would you?  Are you some kinda faggot?  Hell no! I didn't think so.  This country was founded by war, and kept STABLE by war, and GOD BLESS IT! OUR ENTIRE ECONOMY IS BASED ON WAR!  You wouldn't want the economy to fail and have to start driving one of those hippie hybrids.  Don't you want to keep driving that 75 passenger H3 that keeps your 2.5 children safe on the 7 block drive at 25 miles per hour to the grocery store?  OF COURSE YOU DO!  BECAUSE YOU'RE A GOOD PARENT!  Sure, those liberals tell you that Johnny has serious mental issues and can't tell reality from fantasy, but good citizens like you, and me, and Jack Thompson, and GEORGE BUSH.  We know the truth, videogames BRAINWASHED your son to be a mindless zombie killing machine.

George Bush knows what's best for this country because he is personally blessed by the almighty Jesus Christ^tm  The almighty directs George Bush to do good things for all Americans and to lead you all home to the one true God.

George Bush has done more for this country, no, for DEMOCRACY GOD DAMNIT! in his nearly 8 years, that we couldn't possibly think to ask him to step down next year after some liberal minority rigs an election to undo all the good he's done.  THAT dear friends, is why we must act quickly, and proclaim George Walker Bush, EMPEROR FOR LIFE!  So that he may be allowed to grace us with his divine insight, and flawless leadership, for MANY MANY years to come.


ALL HAIL AMERICA!

ALL HAIL GEORGE W. CAESAR!

Employee of the Year
By. Ryan F. Bracy

   After a couple of weeks, Alan didn't even notice the feeding tube.  It took him a bit longer to stop trying to control his bladder and his bowels and just let the tubes do their work.

   He'd used to get stiff, sore from hours of non-stop work, but the new tube bringing him a constant IV drip to suppress his pain centers took care of that.  Now he could really get some work done!  Eighteen hours a day he would type away, coding, debugging, and testing.  He was never hungry, never tired, never needed a break.  If the EEG sensed he was bored or sad, no problem, just a little extra something in the drip.  Sex?  No need for that when an orgasm is a button press away during his off time.

   Alan used to be an insomniac, now his sleep was perfectly regulated, and he always woke feeling rested.  Alan paused from his work for a moment to reflect on just how good it felt to have been given this opportunity to serve his company so efficiently.  A gentle buzzing at the base of his skull reminded him that his woolgathering was happening on company time.  Right back to work then!  He was peripherally aware that the buzzing would increase in intensity if he ignored it, but it wasn't fear that got him back to work, it was loyalty.  The same sense of loyalty and commitment kept him on his task even when two men entered his cube.

   "Alan here is one of our very best tubers Mr. Lipton.  He works day and night, rarely makes mistakes, never complains.  A fine accomplishment."

   "Yes, I've read the reports, 902-71-8430 is one of our greatest successes.  One of the earliest volunteers.  Now, about your latest reports; am I to understand that 45% of your original employee base has agreed to the tubes?"

   "Yes Mr. Lipton, and we've only experienced a 3% attrition rate, more than that wanted to leave of course, "offended" at the very thought they claimed, but the brainwashing was very effective."

   "Oh yes!  About that, didn't you get the memo?  Corporate has decided that "Brainwashing" sounds too controversial, we're calling it "Re-Education" now."

   "Very good Mr. Lipton.  Would you like to see some of the other tubers?"

   "No Bill, I'll let the efficiency reports speak for themselves.  Let's get some coffee."

   Alan smiled as the two men walked away; he wasn't bothered one bit by the thought of brainwashing.  Just to know that Mr. Pallmer thought he was one of the best had made his day.


Some rights reserved. This work is licensed under a
Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 License.

So today,  What a day.  Let's try and break it down.

About 6:30am I wake up, it's a beautiful day, my spine has seized into a solid unmoving mass from L4 to S2 and getting out of bed requires no less than 30 minutes of agonizing fucking wonder.

After some unpleasant grunts and groans and more pain, I'm dressed, thanks muchly to the role of my girlfriend who's assistance was invaluable.

7:45am - My friend arrives to pick me up, my recent relapse has made getting behind the wheel of my car a relative impossibility.  His large van makes for much more pleasant travel.

7:55am - We arrive at the college, I gimp my way on my crutch to the health office, to deliver unto the nurse an updated report on my condition from my doctor, once again asserting my inability to participate in PE classes (And what the fuck college requires you to take PE any goddamn way.)

8:01am - I hand the notice to the nurse practitioner and I speak the holy words, "This is an updated script from my doctor, as of friday, due to your overturning of my last doctor's decision I have had nearly a 100% relapse of my condition, and I'd like to thank you for that." and I turn around, and begin to hobble away on my crutch.  She begins to scream at me, about how it's "Not her fault" and "You have a disability" and then, having successfully baited me into turning around to respond.  "Yes, I have a disability, which you chose to ignore when forcing me into this class when you knew I wasn't capable of performing it without further injury. So, in fact, it IS your fault, as my only option was to attempt to comply with your demands, or not get my degree in december."  Three words into this statement, which I assure you, was calm-voiced and relaxed (counterpoint to her screaming at me angrily) she calls security.

8:04am - Three, yes, THREE 3 tres, a fucking TRIO of big, beefy, stick and flashlight bearing security guards (campus safety, what the fuck ever) come marching into the health office to take up position directly behind me.   During this time, I have remained calm, and the nurse is now full-out fucking HYSTERICAL yelling at me, trying to rationalize what I can only assume is her guilt (read: fear of getting sued) over my exacerbated condition.  I noticed, of course, three large men behind me with the threat of violence on their breath and raw primal pheromones from their under-deodourized armpits promising me a world of new pain.  And I comment, while leaning heavily on my crutch, further obviating that I am incapable of doing much of anything in my condition, "It takes three big men with sticks to handle a cripple these days?"  They showed genuine discomfort at my exposure of their intent to do harm to a defenseless man.

DING!  Light goes off, my business here was done minutes ago, I said what I'd needed to say, and was ready to move on, but was BAITED, oh that evil bitch, she put the bait out, and I'm the dumb fucking sucker that bit.  So I said, "I'm done with you.  Goodbye."  And walked out.

8:10am - I sit down on a bench to let my spine try and recover from the extended period of standing, and once again curse the Physician's Assistant who repeatedly tells me that I cannot have anything for the pain because I'm too young to risk getting addicted to pain killers.  Beyond the fact that not too many years ago I was deep into drugs that make darvocet and hydrocodone look like flinstones vitamins, I just curse her stupidity, and my lack of a voice when it came time to remind her that NYS laws dictate that I cannot be refused treatment, esp. pain relief, make a mental note to make a new appointment with said Physician's Assistant's overseeing M.D.

We break from the timeline for a moment.  For anyone who doesn't know, I suffered a serious spinal injury while I was a truck driver, effectively ending my career behind the wheel of said 40-ton weapon.  It was revealed after that, that I would never recover, because I have degenerative disc disease (something I'd never heard of) and that my condition will only worsen over the years and the damaged discs will eventually become dessicated and inflexible, and eventually I will likely be unable to walk. I have been fighting workers' comp. for nearly 3 years now, seen more doctors than I care to remember, all of them with the same grim prognosis, and refusal to give me anything for the pain.  I am not a surgical candidate and any attempts to perform surgery would likely result in my death, or permanent paralysis (if I can't feel my own dick, I don't wanna live, so fuck that.)

9:30am - I've been sitting in my ceramics class (which doesn't begin until 10am) working on a new sculpture for about 30 minutes now.  My phone rings, clay-covered hands fish it out of my pocket.  It's my neighbor, informing me that some creepy guy with a speech impediment and a pickup truck is demanding that my car be moved from my driveway so that he can drop a dumpster out back (apparently he owns the house in the rear) when I inform him, proxied through my neighbor, that I am unable to do so, and will not be home until 5pm, he informs me that the driveway "Is MAH PRAH PARR TEE AND I BEEN LETTIN YOU SUMMABITCHN KIDS PARK HERE FOR FREE" and mumbles off into incoherence.  I am aware that the driveway is in fact within the property lines of my landlady, and tell him he'll just have to wait, and that should he feel the need to speak with my landlady to get into the specifics of property, that's his prerogative.

9:40am - Another phone call, there is now a tow truck, backed up to the rear-end of my FRONT WHEEL DRIVE car, ready to tow me, out of my own driveway.  I tell the tow truck guy, through my neighbor, that the man who called him does not in fact own the property on which my car is parked, and his tow is illegal, but if he really wants to push the issue, i've got a friend willing to drive my girlfriend down there to move the car.  He says "Too late, not my problem." and tows my car.

9:45am - Good Officer Somebody (Can't be arsed to remember his name) informs me that they don't deal with private property issues, and regardless of who owns the property, they can't get involved with the situation, that it's out of their hands.  So without having to present evidence of ownership, yes, you can have someone's vehicle removed from their own driveway.

I make a mental note of this as well.  Apparently I can drive over to Officer Risi (a cop with whom I am unpleasantly aquainted) and have his car towed from "MAH PRAH PARTEE!" without presenting proof of ownership of the property, and there's nothing the police can do about it.  But moving on.

9:46am - The security guards come down to take a statement on my side of what happened, and I give it to them, word-for-word from my arrival to theirs.  Also I ask them to make a note that while she was hysterically screaming (at a cripple) I remained calm and unthreatening, hence her calling them was obviously a ploy to escalate the situation into something dramatic and their presence was obviously un-neccesary, which they agree with.  I inform them that I will be speaking with Dr. (Name deleted) the Dean-of-Students, as I have an appointment with him Friday, and will be lodging a formal complaint of misconduct and discrimination against the nurse.

12:45pm - My friend's class is over, mine has been over since noon, and a whole slew of my pottery and clay sculpture are being loaded into the kiln for a firing - the first good news all day.  I am then driven to my Chiropractor's office, and I retrieve the form I will need for my Workers' Comp. hearing.

1:58pm - I am early for my comp. hearing and get the opportunity to chat with my attourney's comp. specialist about what we can do about some missed payments and other grievances, and he says he'll get it sorted.  Also, because of some bullshit paper trail thing that the insurance company failed to comply with, my weekly comp. rate will be bumped up, tentatively, so, more good news.

2:05pm - I am again staggered at how much of my comp. case is handled before we ever have to sit down before the judge.  The details come out so fast and furious in lawyer-jargon that I don't understand much of anything except the part where it clarifies a pay increase for YT^*.  I am then sworn in, and testify with single word responses that I am in fact, (Name Deleted) and that I am 26 years old, and that I am disabled, and that I have not worked since december...whatever, of last year (the date of my last hearing)

2:10pm - Back in the van, and rolling like a candy kid at a shitty garage rave.  Turns out, my friend who is driving knows the man who owns the towing company.  So we head on over there...

3:00pm - Arrive at the towing company, as my landlady is also calling said towning company, they assure me that they will release my car to me today, by 5pm (this never happened) but that they couldn't release it until someone paid, since this guy called for the tow, and since the tow was found to be unlawful, it has to be this guy who pays.  I remove some things that I need from my car and I go home.

The day goes on uneventfully from there, and I am still without a car.


So, I guess new idea for a mindfuck, having people towed out of their own driveway.

So, at Applebee's the other day, or as I like to call it "Denny's with stupid shit on the walls"  Amanda and I were enjoying a reasonably tasty meal, paid for by the federal government as we're now able to use our college meal plans at all sorts of places around town.  (Why the fuck else would I eat at this place?)

We were enjoying our meal.  And having very enjoyable conversation.  This festival of enjoyment of course was soon interrupted by the air-piercing shriek of an infant, and then crying, continuous fucking crying.  Not long after the sound of another parent, at another table, yelling at their kid, this one probably between 6 and 10 to stop running around, and then to stop throwing ice at his sister, and then to stop spitting, and so on.

This is when my mind started to churn out the rant that I write below.

"Dear Inconsiderate Parents,
                                   Please refrain from bringing your children with you to so-called "Fine Dining" establishments if you are incapable of keeping them placated and disciplined.  Please keep in mind that this is not McDonalds, and your McChildren should not be climbing on tables or booths, and especially should not attempt to climb to the top of a barstool.  I would further point out that if there is a BAR and televisions with SPORTS on them, chances are this is not a place for children.  It is this type of place that people might bring a date, or a signifigant other.  And if our desires are leaning towards the carnal after our meal, the last thing we need to be reminded of is the possibility of reproduction and the cultivation of a parasitic being.  I say again, HEARING YOUR SCREAMING CHILDREN RESULTS IN MY GIRLFRIEND NO LONGER BEING INTERESTED IN SEXUAL INTERCOURSE AND I WILL FUCKING KILL YOU! 

I can eat in my home and be stressed out, and so can you.  When I go out to eat, I like to relax, and allow some of my stress to be forgotten, if you MUST bring your stress with you to dinner, then by all means, take them to McDonalds, they have a playpen, and you can send the demonic little fuckers into there and hope they get lost or break their necks.

To reiterate my original statement, clearly and concisely, LEAVE YOUR LOUD FUCKING OFFSPRING AT HOME YOU TOOTHLESS IGNORANT WHITE TRASH FUCKS!

~Mourning Star"

http://www.deviantart.com/deviation/51792958/

Be as brutal as you want with the critique, I can take it.