E R N I E ' S H O U S E O F W H O O P A S S
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|March 31, 2004|
Getting In Touch With Our Past
I phoned up a really gorgeous ex-girlfriend of mine the other day. We lost track of time, chatting about the wild nights we used to enjoy together. I couldn't believe it when she asked if I'd like to meet up and maybe rekindle a little of that magic.
"Wow!" I said "I don't know if I could keep pace with you now! I'm a bit older and a bit balder than when you last saw me!" She giggled and said she was sure I'd meet the challenge.
"Yeah," I said, "Just so long as you don't mind a man with a waistband that's a few inches wider these days!" She laughed and told me to stop being so silly. She teased me, saying she thought tubby bald men were cute. "Besides", she said, "I've put on a couple of pounds myself!"
Eh, so I hung up on the fat bitch.
one buried ass jeep --
one buried ass iraqi mig
So now Iraqis in the Sunni triangle are not only cheering when Americans are killed, but now they're desecrating the bodies as well. Burned bodies are tied to cars and drug through the streets, body barts are torn off and strung up for display, and gasoline is thrown on to burning vehicles to further immolate their dead occupants. Fine, that's fine. If that's what they want to do, that's fine. My solution? Pull our troops out of the Sunni Triangle. Yep, pull em all out. Then all the occupants will gather in their town squares and chant and cheer and hold up pictures of Saddam and fire their AK-47's in the air and shout how God forced the Americans out. Fine, chant away. Because that bright light you see coming your way ain't a fucking flashbulb, pal. Yep, I'd end those motherfuckers in one quick shot and guarantee that'd put a stop to their violence, but fucking quick. They want to act like a rabid animal, then I'd kill them like one.
|March 29, 2004|
Ah, To Be Nineteen Again
I dunno about you, but I sure didn't score with chicks that looked like this when I was nineteen. Now there are two possibilities for this. One, they simply didn't make em like this when I was nineteen. Or, they did but the chicks simply wouldn't talk to me. The latter is more likely of course, but fortunately for me I have my website chicks. Yeah, they dig me.
There's been a lot of carnage on EHOWA recently, especially if you're a deer. We've seen a deer vs a Dodge Durango, a deer versus airplane landing gear, and now for your morbid viewing pleasure we have a deer vs a Ford Taurus. What's that tell you? Don't fuck with American steel baby.
|March 23, 2004|
Black Stand Up Comedy
This motherfucker meets this other motherfucker and he says, "Hey motherfucker, you gots a motherfuckin' banana in your ear!" Well dis other motherfucker goes, "Yo motherfucker, I can't motherfuckin' hear you. I gots a motherfuckin banana in my motherfuckin' ear!"
pedophiles cold busted
|March 20, 2004|
Websites For Dummies
I've received numerous emails over the past month regarding the ability (or absence there of) to right click and save pictures to your local hard drive. This quirk was because I had to temporarily disable the right click feature on the little picture popup window, because otherwise it was possible to find out the exact URL location of a file, and thus suck my bandwidth. As I'm sure you've figured out by now, I've used another resource to keep these link leeches from sucking my blood, and thus you may now right click and save pictures to your fucking heart's content. In fact, if you look below the picture, you will even see the exact URL you can copy and email to someone should you want to share the fun.
Now I don't want to give anyone the impression that -- with the exception of my Best Tits pictures -- I'm claiming any kind of an ownership over these photos. Some I collect from other sites, but the vast majority get mailed in, sometimes by the original photographer and sometimes not. Again, with the exception of my luscious boobies, I consider them all public domain, so to the many of you who email in asking how to start a site and can you grab some of my content, go nuts. But touch my boobs, and you're fuckin dead.
While I'm on the subject, let's kill another bird with the same stone. Common questions posed to me, The Great Lord of the Internet and Master Of All That I Survey, are: how do start a website, what do I use to code the pages, how do I show my pictures, all that happy jazz. Now I have no intention of teaching you how to code html -- go out and fuckin learn on your own just like I did. But I will say there are sites out there designed to painlessly guide you, the useless fucking n00b, through designing your own basic website. Now I was just telling someone yesterday how I wasn't a big fan of automatic webpage generators as a whole, but there are a few resources out there that do just this, but do it effeciently and cleanly.
I've also removed the URL hiding, meaning you can see the direct link to get to a particular file. For example, if you wanted to tell someone about a chest infection, instead of telling them to go to EHOWA, then the tasteless section, and then scroll down... you can just tell them to go to http://www.ehowa.com/tasteless/chestinfection.shtml. See, it's fucking magic!
And that concludes our lesson for today. You will soon be returned to your regularly scheduled EHOWA programming, but not before at least a half a dozen people write in and ask me why they can't see the pictures, even though I've detailed why in no less than three instances. Yeah it's a tough life as a webmaster.
|March 18, 2004|
Spending Time With Your Children
I was sitting in the doctor's office yesterday, and leafing trough the magazines they have in the waiting room. I came across an article entitled, "Some Tips For Reading Aloud With Your Child", and to keep my mind awake, I noticed that if you changed the words "reading aloud" to "fucking", "child" to" partner", "book" to "position", and "word" to "body part" ...it becomes a sex manual! I present for your edification..."SOME TIPS FOR FUCKING WITH YOUR PARTNER"
1. Try to set a regular time for fucking. This might be before school or before bedtime.
2. Select positions that are appropriate for the age and interest of your partner. Start with picture positions and build to story positions and novels.
3. Involve your partner in the fucking by asking him or her to predict what will happen next, chime in on repetitive phrases, say a body part he or she knows, or link the picture to the position
4. Engage in discussions about the positions and talk about the meaning of some body parts your partner is interested in.
5. From time to time, choose positions to fuck with your partner that he or she cannot fuck.
6. Use lots of expression when you fuck. Be dramatic when you fuck and make the position come to life.
7. Change the pace of your fucking to match the position. If there is suspense in the position, slow down the fucking to build the suspense. If there is a lot of action in a part of the fucking, increase the pace for effect.
8. Don't fuck too fast.
9. Let your partner see you fucking for pleasure at times other than when fucking together. Share what you are fucking with your partner.
funny frat guy t-shirt -
|March 17, 2004|
Happy Muthafuckin St Patrick's Day.
Two Irishmen were digging a ditch accross from a brothel, and one noticed a Rabbi walk into the place. One said to the other, "It's a sad day when men of the cloth walk into a place like that." After a little while, the other man saw a minister walk into the brothel. He stood up and said to his partner, "Did ya see that? It's no wonder the children today are so confused with the example that the clery are settin' for them." After about another hour, the first man saw a Catholic priest walk in. He promptly stood up, removed his hat, and proclaimed to his partner. "Aw that is truely sad. One of the poor lassies must be dyin'."
An Irish guy was walking down the road and he sees a bottle. He picks it up and rubs it. "You are my master. I will grant you two wishes." The drunk Irishman replies "I want an endless bottle of whiskey" "Your wish is my command" The drunk takes the bottle of whiskey and drinks it down and it filled up again. "That was good. I'll be takin two more of those"
|Q. What's an Irish 7-course meal?
A. A 6-pack and a potato.
|Q What's an Irish homosexual?
A An Irishman who likes girls more than whiskey.
|Q How can you tell the Irish guy in the hospital ward?
A He's the one blowing the foam off of his bed pan.
|Q. Where does an Irish family go on vacation?
A. A different bar.
|Q. Why did the Irishman cross the road?
A. To pass out in the other ditch.
|Q. How can you tell that an Irishman is married?
A. He eats his potatos cooked.
|Woman "Help, help, an Irishman tried to rape me!"
Cop "How do you know he was Irish?"
Woman "I had to help him."
|Q. How do you get an Irishman to climb on the roof?
A. Tell him that the drinks are on the house.
|Q. What's the difference between St. Patrick's Day and Martin Luther King Day?
A. On St. Patrick's Day, everybody wishes they were Irish.
|Q. What's the difference between a Kennedy and an Irish man?
A. After 3 shots the Irish guy is still standing!
|Q. Why arent there any flies at an Irish cemetary?
A. All of the maggots die from alcohol poisoning.
|Q. Why don't Irish men ever exercise?
A. They figure if God had wanted them to bend over, He would have put the booze on the floor.
True fact: A full seven percent of the entire Irish barley crop goes to the production of Guinness beer.
A Texan walks into a pub in Ireland and clears his voice to the crowd of drinkers. He says, "I hear you Irish are a bunch of drinkin' mother fuckers. I'll give $500 American dollars to anybody in here who can drink 10 pints of Guinness back-to-back." The room is quiet and no one takes of the Texan's offer. One man even leaves. Thirty minutes later the same gentleman who left shows back up and taps the Texan on the shoulder. "Is your bet still good?", asks the Irishman. The Texan says yes and asks the bartender to line up 10 pints of Guinness. Immediately the Irishman tears into all 10 of the pint glasses drinking them all back-to-back. The other pub patrons cheer as the Texan sits in amazement. The Texan gives the Irishman the $500 and says, "If ya don't mind me askin' where did you go for that 30 minutes you were gone?". The Irishman replies, "Oh...I had to go to the pub down the street to see if I could do it first".
"Dad," asked the kid, "can I have five dollars to buy a guinea pig?" "Aw son, here's twenty dollars, son. Go find yourself a nice Irish girl"
One Irishman was downing them faster than usual when the man on the barstool next to him said, "What's wrong?" The first Irishman said, "I'm drinking to the memory of my wife. She was a saint on earth. She went to church every single morning, spent her days reading and quoting the Scriptures, sang hymns and psalms all evening, filled our house with religious statues and paintings, and invited priests and nuns to dinner three times a week." "She sounds like an angel," the second man commented, "I suppose the good Lord took her early to Himself." "No," the first Irishman replied. "I strangled the lass."
Two Irishmen walk out of a bar. Hey, it could happen.
For a holiday, an Irishman decided to go to Switzerland to fulfil a lifelong dream and climb the Matterhorn. He hired a guide and just as they neared the top, the men were caught in a snow slide. Three hours later, a Saint Bernard plowed through to them, a keg of brandy tied under its chin. "Hooray!" shouted the guide. "Here comes man's best friend!" "Yeah," said the Irishman. "An' look at the size of the dog that's bringin' it.
There was this guy who was half Irish, half Jewish. He wanted a drink but he couldn't bring himself to buy one.
R E D H E A D S -
R E D H E A D S -
R E D H E A D S -
R E D H E A D S -
R E D H E A D S
|March 13, 2004|
I'm Bearing A Heavy Burden
Left my house en route to lab and stopped at Exxon to fill up my truck with fuel. A young tardwas standing with the windshield washer brush in-hand overlooking the brush holder. Silently, I wished that he would not ask to clean my windshield, not because I wouldn't want to support the tards, but because I'm fucking pumping gas and I don't want to be doing that to begin with. Come to find out he was momentarily confused from trying to insert the brush into the paper-towel holder. The young tard stood there the entire time I was filling the tank, until his wrangler rescued him from this dismay. The lady knew he had been standing there near me, so I gave her a pleasant understanding smile. Indeed, I did not want her to think I was bothered in any way, and honestly I wasn't.
Anyway, the wranger and her tard went inside to pay. Momentarily, my tank was full so I proceeded to go inside to pay as well. Just before I got to the door, I noticed that they were exiting, so I held the door open. I thought, "okay, another reassuring smile will reinforce my understanding and support for her kind efforts in taking care of this tard and I'm home free." As I pulled the door open, I stepped slightly aside and made eye contact with tard, who was coming out first. As I looked at him (and I should have known what to expect after the silent standoff at the pump), there was a six inch bead of silky slobber rolling out of his mouth.
Normally, this would certainly not be a big deal as I would simply transfer my thoughts and positive emotions to his wrangler. BUT, just as the slobber was about to disconnect from his lip and begin its plunge to earth, a gust of wind swiftly blew the silky strand directly at my arm. I jumped back with an "Ugh!" I regained my composure just in time to grab the door and receive a look of disgust from the lady as she had no idea what caused me to react in such a way.
So, I left the Exxon station with a feeling of failure as far as bridging the gap between society, tards, and their wranglers.
|March 12, 2004|
by Tre' Barron
My dad, Angelo, was in the hospital in Tacoma, Washington. A former Marine and veteran of the Korean War, he was having his third knee replacement surgery. A long and very painful operation was going to be made even worse because Dad was going through it alone. There was no one to hold his hand, no familiar soft voices to reassure him. His wife was ill and unable to accompany him or even visit during his week long stay. My sisters and brother lived in California, and I lived even farther away, in Indiana. There wasn't even anyone to drive him to the hospital, so he had arrived that morning by cab. The thought of my dad lying there alone was more than I could stand. But what could I do from here?
I picked up the phone and called information for the Puyallup, Washington, Marine Corps recruiting station, where I joined the Marines ten years before. I thought that if I could talk to a Marine and explain the situation, maybe one of them would visit my dad. I called the number. A man answered the phone and in a very confident voice said, "United States Marines, Sergeant Vanes. May I help you?" Feeling just as certain, I replied, "Sergeant Vanes, you may find this request a little strange, but this is why I am calling..." I proceeded to tell him who I was and that my father was also a former Marine and 100 percent disabled from the Korean War. I explained that he was in the hospital, alone, without anyone to visit and asked if Sergeant Vanes would please go and see him. Without hesitation, he answered, "Absolutely." Then I asked, "If I send flowers to the recruiting station, would you deliver them to my dad when you go to the hospital?" "Ma'am, I will be happy to take the flowers to your dad. I'll give you my address. You send them, and I will make sure that he receives them," he replied.
The next morning, I sent the flowers to Sergeant Vane's office just as we had planned. I went to work, and that evening, I returned home and phoned my dad to inquire about his surprise visitor. If you have ever talked with a small child after that child has just seen Santa Claus, you will understand the glee I heard in my dad's voice. "I was just waking up when I thought I saw two Marines in their dress blue uniforms standing at the foot of my bed," he told me excitedly. "I thought I had died and gone to heaven. But they were really there!" I began to laugh, partly at his excitement, but also because he didn't even mention his operation. He felt so honored: Two Marines he had never met took time out to visit an old Marine like him. He told me again and again how sharp they looked and how all the nurses thought he was so important. "But how did you ever get them to do that?" he asked me. "It was easy. We are all Marines, Dad, past and present; it's the bond."
After hanging up with my dad, I called Sergeant Vanes to thank him for visiting my dad. And to thank him for the extra things he did to make it special: wearing his dress blue uniform, bringing another Marine along - he even took a digital camera with him. He had pictures taken of the two Marines with my dad right beside his bed. That evening, he emailed them to me so I could see for myself that my dad was not alone and that he was going to be okay.
As for the flowers, they hardly mattered, but I was glad for the opportunity to express my feelings. The card read: "Daddy, I didn't want just anyone bringing you flowers...so I sent the World's Finest. SemperFi."
yep, he should have had had a hemi
lack of military bearing? hey they're
behold i am el'stupido from the
z-71 clan (fixed!)
|March 10, 2004|
The Passion Of Shutting The Hell Up.
I remember when the Sopranos first came out, an Italian-American Anti-Defamation group came out and filed a lawsuit against HBO & the producers of the show, their concern being they felt the show portrayed all Italians as lawbreaking strongarmed criminals. The judge heard both arguments, HBO's being more or less, "hey man it's just a show", and promptly threw the case out of court. His comment to the plaintiffs could be summarized as, "Now that's just stupid."
You're think that with time, we as a society would evolve and in learning to walk upright learn to leave our crutches at home. But alas, here we are again.
Yes, I speak of Gibson's flick The Passion Of The Christ and more importantly, all this controversy that seems to be lingering and refusing to get off my television screen. Hmmm, is ol Mel's latest work Anti-Semetic or not Anti-Semetic, that is the question. Now my initial gut reaction is the same as it always is in cases such as this, "Who gives a fuck? It's just a movie, get over it." But given this is such a highly sensitive issue for so many people, I decided to allow my widsom to shine in and bring light to the darkness of confusion. Now, first we must understand there are two ways to look at this movie regardless of how it's creator intended it. Those that don't believe in God will look at it as a work of fiction, and for you to believe that an individual with no belief in religion is suddenly going to bear ill will towards those of Jewish faith because "some guy" got killed in a movie, well, that's just stupid.
So for the duration of this post, let us assume I have set aside my athieism and believe in God. Therefore let us concentrate our efforts into trying to understand how those people of faith -- any faith -- who will see the movie, since they will perceive it more as more fact than fiction, in regard to the existance of God. Since the events in question took place almost 2,000 years ago and aside from Dick Clark, nobody else was around to lend first hand account of just what happened, some things must be left open to the artist's interpretation. And while Mel states that he tried to follow scripture as closely as he possible for the framework of the movie, things such as the exact verbage of conversations, where people were standing and next to whom, the tones of people's voices, the clothing they wore and most importantly the level of violence, are all tools to be used to tell the story. It is these "supporting" details that those Jews who protest are up in arms over. They're not trying to claim the Jews didn't do it, but rather the level of violence depicted in the movie is excessive and will prompt people to seek retribution for killing their savior. But observe if you will...
Movie #1 is based upon life events and within this loose framework of accepted truths, the creator uses liberal amounts of graphic violence to tell a story of how people from Group-A persecute and murder enormous numbers of people from Group-B because of their faith. Entire families are destroyed before our eyes. People are hanged. People are shown holding their dying loves ones while blood spurts out onto cobblestone streets. This movie is met by the Jewish community as a work of art, as using its excessive violence to force humanity to stare into one of its darkest times in history and accept and take responsibility for its brutality.
Movie #2 is based upon life events and within this loose framework of accepted truths, the creator uses liberal amounts of graphic violence to tell a story of how people from Group-A persecute and murder individuals from Group-B because of their faith. Entire families are destroyed before our eyes. People are crucified. People are shown holding their dying loved ones while blood spurts out onto cobblestone streets. This movie is met by the Jewish community with outrage and protests, as using its excessive violence to incite anti-Semitism and portray Judaism as the do'er of all evils.
Can you identify the two movies? Well the latter is obvious, it's none other than the subject of our discussion here. The former? Is Schindler's List. Which by the way, ranks up there as one of the most powerful movies I've ever seen. Spielberg did an amazing job teaching me the Holocaust not just something I read about in my history books, but an actual event that affected people with faces and names and families. Now am I comparing the slaughter of six million innocent people with the death of Christ? No.
My point is, I don't understand that given that both the stories told are based upon significant events in Judaism -- remember we're assuming we believe in the God and Jesus Christ and the crucifixion and all that stuff -- why is violence okay to tell one powerful story that portrays Jews as having terrible suffering inflicted upon them, but not okay to tell the other story where Jews are the one inflicting the suffering? Because in my opinion, it's not. I don't see The Passion of the Christ as any more anti-Semetic than I would see Schindler's List as anti-German. And the notion of both seems equally absurd to me.
Am I denying anti-Semitism exists? Of course not. Everywhere you look there are fucking morons who hate one group or another for no disconcernable reason and trying to understand their warped senses of reality, let alone reason out their actions, is all but an impossibility for normal people. Take a look at these fucking bozos who vandalized a synagogue -- they're fucking idiots and cowards. But if it happened last month, it'd be just an isolated case of anti-Semite vandalism, chalked up to some combat boot wearing skinheads who never finished the tenth grade and spraypainted "we hate nigers" right along beside it. But because it happens after Mel Gibson's movie is doing well at the theaters -- due in no small part to publicity from protesters, duh -- people are getting their daily exercise jumping to conclucions. Now it's "What Mel Gibson did is terrible," and victims are, "sure the film inspired the graffiti." And that my friends, is just plain stupid.
Mel Gibson, a devout Catholic, a father, an actor, wasn't the shithead who violated the sanctity of your religious grounds and he has done nothing terrible other than make an effort to restore his own sense of spirituality. It was some peabrained dipshit with a head full of bad wiring, and I've got news for ya, if it wasn't one thing that triggered that idea in his head it'd have been another. So holding a movie, or a book, or a sign, or a song responsible for someone else's actions, well, is just stupid.
Someone said it best when they said, "Here in America we love to celebrate our cultural diversity, just so long as you don't point out anyone is different. And just in case, here's some Aramaic worth knowing this Easter season: "Een, Yuudaayaa naa, ellaa b-haw yawmaa laa" which translates to, "Yes, I'm Jewish, but I wasn't there that day."
Okay, I got a call from Dan around lunchtime. People are still calling. Again, thanks for the support but the issue has been resolved to my satisfaction, so I guess, uh, cease fire!
|March 5, 2004|
To The Victor, Go The Spoils Of War
So a lot of people have asked me if I felt weird going into the dealership to pick up the quad, after all the drama that unfolded. Nah, it didn't bother me one bit. In fact, kind of just the opposite. It was like walking in and being treated like Don Corleone.
I met Jeff, Dan, and Karen, and everyone was very polite and professional. I had to answer a few "Wow, who are you?" and "What do you do to make everyone do this kind of thing?". The first answer that came into my head I quietly kept to myself, "Well I'm a mushroom cloud layin' motherfucka, motherfucka!" But instead I just explained that I run a website that has some popularity, and sometimes people support my causes and left it at that. Assuming by "some" you mean like, ya know, 35,000 people a day. Remember, Nemo me impune lacessit!
Anyway, yesterday I mentioned that one of the many people who called said dealership on my behalf used a shit load of profanity when talking to Karen at one point. Eh, that made me a little uncomfortable because when I called on Wednesday night -- really spoiling to get into argument and freak on somebody -- she was really very polite and helpful. She kind of got caught in the middle, so I brought her a case of Samuel Adams Light as a peace offering. Because hey, that's what I do. Everyone parted ways on good terms, and while I can't say that I would buy my next car there, I don't hold any ill will towards them since ultimately I got what I came for and am happy with how the issue was resolved.
So without any further a do, here be pictures of the prize you folks helped me win. Dig the rear tires on this bad boy -- I can't wait to rip shit up with those. And hey I have a small favor to ask of somebody else out there who owns a 400EX, since I don't have an owner's manual. Take a look at this pic and please identify for me what it what. I'm assuming the yellow lever is the choke...but which way open and what's closed? And the two screws...I would imagine one is the idle and the other is air/fuel mixture... but which is which? Help a mushroom cloud layin motherfucka out.
But regardless of how much drama surrounded this ATV purchase, I still consider myself lucky, and try to remember there are people out there a lot worse off than I am.
I appreciate the support some of you showed by calling the dealership, apparently you were very convincing in your arguments. I spoke with Dan about thirty minutes ago and they agreed that perhaps it would be best if they sold the ATV to me instead. I am picking it up around 7:30 tonight. But. To whomever it was that called and used an excessive amount of profanity when speaking to Karen -- she's kind of caught in the middle of this so please I appreciate your zealousness, but for me, please call and apologize. Once again, my thanks for your show of support, but it is no longer nessecary for anyone to call the dealership. Your humble servant in return, Ernie
|March 4, 2004|
This Fat Kid Got Shafted.
You see a friend of mine and I decided to go half'sies on a four-wheeler so that we'd have a "spare" quad to have around. Both for him to ride should conditions be too slippery for his dirtbike, or for someone else to ride if should we invite them to take part in our riding adventures. So last year we bought a Yamaha Blaster for $1,800 -- coughing up $900 each -- and used it for that purpose and it worked out great, it was very dependable and a lot of fun. But this year we decided to sell it and buy something with a four stroke engine. That's the background to my story.
So for the past two weeks I've been looking on ebay for a nice sport quad under $3,000... the theory being it will cost us no more than $500-$600 each to upgrade to the bigger machine. And lo and behold, I was the 'winning' bidder on an auction for a 2001 Honda 400EX. Now I say 'winner' because although I was the highest bidder, the auction didn't make it past $2,350 for some ungodly reason, which was way under the reserve price so effectively no sale. No problem. So I called the guy Jeff up on one of the two telephone numbers in the auction and left him a voicemail explaining who I was and asked for a callback to see if we could work something out.
So Jeff calls me back about thirty minutes later and we talked for a few minutes about the four wheeler. Turns out this is a Subaru car dealership and apparently someone has traded this in as part of the downpayment on a vehicle. Now I've seen ATV and snowmobiles outside car dealerships before, it's not what I'd say a common sight but it's not unheard of either. Anyway, I ask him how much the reserve price was and he informs me it was set for $3,000. Okay, I've been to dealerships before and recognized the familiar scent of negotiation time, so I counteroffered by explaining my bid was for $2,800 and would that be acceptable. "Hang on and I'll check." So I wait patiently and after a few minutes he comes back and says, "I had to contact my manager, he's out of the office in Pennsylvania today but it sounds good, who don't you come in tonight or tomorrow?" Great. "Okay," says I, "how late are you there tonight?" "I'm here until 8pm." I work until 7, so this should work out perfect, "OKay I'll be in later this evening when I get out of work." "Great I'll see you then."
So I'm thinking life is good. I go to the bank and withdraw $500 cash for a deposit and start counting down the minutes until I go pick up the quad.
Then my cell phone rings at 6:15pm, forty five minutes before I get out of work. "Hey Ernie, it's Jeff. Hey we were trying to start the ATV to get it ready for you to come look at it, and we're having trouble getting it started. Maybe it's flooded or something. I didn't want you to drive up here and have it not start. Do you want to postpone this until tomorrow night?" Eh no biggie, it's probably something simple. "No, I want to come up there and get this taken care of tonight." I gave him a few ideas to get it started, maybe the fuel cock was turned off, maybe they weren't choking the carb, whatever. I mean after all they're car dealers not ATV dealers, so they may not know the ins and outs.
Now comes the corker. My phone rings ten minutes later at 6:25pm. "Yeah Ernie this is Jeff, bad news. I just sold the quad to some guy in Washington state for $3,100." "WHAT?!" "Yeah he gave me a credit card over the phone and paid for the whole thing. It's going to cost him $300 to have it shipped out there, but he's willing to pay it." Now at this point, I'm fucking floored. I dunno what to say. He goes on to say the owner also owns a Polaris ATV dealership nearby, so perhaps I would be interested in something there. My first thought was, "Why the hell would I want to buy something at a dealership that's screwing me out of a good deal right at the giddyup?" Anyway, we hung up and picked my jaw up off the floor.
But I sat there, as I often do, and just fucking stewed. I mean steamin mad. So I called Jeff back and said, "Ya know, I've got alot of heartburn about this. We had an oral agreement that I was going to buy this ATV for $2,800 and now you're pulling the rug out from underneath me to make an extra $300 off somebody who lives on the other side of the country? That's extremely unethical. I need this to be made right." Jeff apologized several times and noted he was speaking to this Mystery Buyer for the entire duration of the ebay auction, and after our conversation he was under the impression I was just coming up to look at the quad, not buy it.
Now I don't know where you come from, but every time I've bought a vehicle it's gone like this. Salesman asks a price. Customer counter offers with a lower figure. Salesman takes counter offer to the manager. If he approves, it's a deal. If he doesn't, repeat steps 1 and 2 until there is a deal or the customer leaves. I made an offer, they accepted, it's a done deal. Not to mention do you really think I'd drive all the way up there (it's about a 45 minute trip from where I work) just to look at this thing and go, "yeah it's nice," and then turn around and leave? Does that make sense to anyone? So Jeff apologizes a few more times, but says there's nothing he can do at this point since he's already charged Mr Washington's credit card.
I stew some more on the ride home -- I wasn't pissed enough where I was spitting when I talked in case some of you are wondering -- so when I got home I called the dealer back and asked for a sales manager. A woman named Karen took my name & number and said she's have the owner, a man named Dan, call me back in the morning. I go to sleep talking to myself. Morning comes. No call from Dan by 9:30 this morning so I call the dealership. He's not in yet, ok no problem, so I leave him a voicemail explaining who I am and requested a callback. Ten minutes later, phone rings, bing... it's Dan.
I again explain my side of the situation, that we had reached a verbal agreement and they should honor deal and sell me the quad for $2,800. Dan admits that perhaps someone on his side of the fence should have called me upon receiving a higher offer, to at least allow me the chance to match it. No, I countered, his salesman should have never even entertained the idea of another offer given they were already bound to an oral agreement with me. I further explained that what should have happened, is upon receiving a call with another offer the salesman should have explained, "I'm sorry Mr Customer as much as I'd like to accept your offer because quite frankly it's higher that the one we have now, we do have a sale pending with someone who called earlier this afternoon right after the auction ended. I will know in a few hours whether or not that's going to come together so if you'd like I can keep your name and number and update you as soon as I hear something. If the deal doesn't go through, the ATV is yours." Dan didn't have any response to that.
He did ask however, how I would like to see this situation resolved. My answer was simple, "sell the quad to me at the agreed upon $2,800 price." "Well I'm not sure I'm going to be able to make you entirely happy in this case." So I asked, "Was it my salesman who sold one vehicle to two people? No. So as soon as that happened somebody is going to go home uphappy -- either someone locally to the dealer who is going to tell anyone and everyone how they got shafted out of a deal, or some clown who's on the other side of the country. All so you can make an extra $300? How do you justify that?" "Well I've already charged this man's credit card, so there's not much I can do at this point." "Sure there is, just refund the money back to his card and tell him sorry you can't sell it. You didn't have any problem yanking the rug out from beneath my deal, why can't you do it to his? Furthermore, if your salesman really had been talking to someone who was intending to pay $3,100 right from the start, why the hell didn't they bid and win the auction and all of this mess could have been avoided?" "I don't know."
We went round and round for about twenty minutes and Dan too extended his numerous apologies but despite being the owner of the dealership he explains there's nothing he can do. But he does offer to keep his eye open for another sport quad that fits my need.
So that ladies and gentlemen, is how I spent my Wednesday night and Thursday morning getting screwed over. Fuck you clown.
|March 3, 2004|
Get Out While You Still Can!
Every day there are news reports about more deaths. Every night on the TV are photos of death and destruction. Why are we still there? The land is too large to secure all of it. The bad people causing this damage can roam anywhere, and we can't possibly police the whole place. We occupied this land, which we had to take by force, but it causes us nothing but trouble. Their government is unstable, and in the process of changing. Refugees are fleeing by the thousands, driven from their homes. It will cost billions to rebuild, which we can't afford. There are more than 1000 religious sects. We can't even secure the borders. Why are we still there?
And to repeat. Every day we hear of more Americans killed in this dangerous land. Ladies and gentlemen, our course of action clear. We must abandon California!
Ha! So anyway, spring time looks like it's finally here. Which believe you me I've been looking forward to for a long time. It's nice to be able to go outside and not have my nostril hairs freeze every time in inhale. A special thanks to Scott from Profab ATV for the help with my quad! So long, Old Man Winter!
Here is a photo of a young baby whose mother is a motherfucking lunuatic.
Here is a photo of the damage from a terrible storm that passed through California last week. Most people stayed home and most schools were cancelled. It really makes you cherish what you have, and reminds us not to take life for granted. Warning: picture is quite graphic!
|March 1, 2004|
Got This One Locked Up
Ladies and Gentlemen. Spectators of around the world. Viewers of all ages! Welcome to this evening edition of Man versus Machine! In the corner to my left, weighing in at 24.8 tons of solid American know how, the Bradley Fighting Vehicle! And in the corner to my left, weighing in at a bootstomping 160 pounds including his suicide vest, fighting for everyones favorite former dictator Saddam, we have Achmed Schmachmed!
Gentlemen, I want to see a fair fight so watch the low blows. When the bell rings come out fighting.
D I N G !
Oh Achmed come out swinging with all he's got and explodes all over the front of the suprised Bradley... literally! But wait, the Bradley is unfazed! And Achmed is down! Achmed is down! Winner of this very short bout, by knockout in the first round, American steel baby!
Yep, anyone else have a really interesting weekend? I got to get my ATV out and get all muddy yesterday, which was very theraputic. Also got to catch up on some television and movie news. I'm excited about two upcoming movies. First, the new Dawn of the Dead -- that's about as close to Doom the Movie as it's gonna get, so I'm all over that like ants on ice cream. And the second is the new upcoming The Punisher. I'd have preferred they give the role to Bruce Campbell instead of John Travolta, but hey I don't have as much pull in Hollywood as I used to. I'm gettin old.