I'll be Enjoying Pork Chops in Hell

http://www.thercg.org/articles/aaagf.html

You find the damnest things on the Internet. Short story on this one. My wife was looking up information on health risks associated with pork products (remember, this is the short version) and, through whatever complicated system of keywords she used on google, ended up with this link to the "Restored Church of God." The Restored Church of God, as opposed to the Philadeliphia Church of God, the Pentecostal Church of God or the Worldwide Church of God (SPLITTERS! see Life of Brian) is the one true church that can trace its origins back to the first century church founded by Jesus Christ himself. I tried clicking on the link that showed the church's historical lineage, but instead ended up in the church bookstore. At the online bookstore, you'll be able to find information on a wide variety of topics, from "America and Britain in Bible Prophecy" to "Sex: the Unknown Dimension." I'm guessing the pork article is tied to the latter. Willlllbburrrrrr.

In full disclosure, I have a religious studies background, so I enjoy reading garbage like this. The article starts off with this great quote - "Potassium cyanide will kill you very quickly. Some poisons will result in death within a few hours or a few days. But very few (people) seem to know there are other poisons people mistakenly eat as foods which result in premature death after continuous usage for, say, ten, or thirty, or fifty years." So, Mr. Pack is setting the stage for his argument that eating pork products is tantamount to eating cyanide, with time being the variable in between lunch and your impending doom. Given the alternative of brussel sprouts and tomatoes, I'll take death in 50 years, but that's a whole other thread.

He then continues to ramble on and on about different bible verses, disecting the language and grammar used (in English, no less, which should always be a "Danger Will Robinson" sign). After I'm moved to tears thinking I'm going to die in the next 5 years and go straight to hell, Mr. Pack takes the time to write a paragraph on veal being acceptable in the eyes of God, and notes several passages where the Lord Almighty himself eats it. Whoohoo! Now if we can just get Jesus to turn the bread into Foie Gras, I'm going to be in hog heaven. Errr, change that to Cloud 9.

He then prattles on to talk about all the other things we can't - crabs, shrimp, lobster, oysters, shark, catfish, etc. and makes the revalation "When people eat fat, they are ingesting additional poisons." DAMINT. There goes Foie Gras. Fast forward through all of his exegesis and let's get to the most important part: Is Avoiding Unclean Meats Necessary For Salvation? You HAVE to be kidding me. The fact that someone is actually asking this question scares me. Do you REALLY think God is going to be sending you to hell for eating a McDLT? Seriously, now. We have thousands of years of philosophical debate over issues like baptism, original sin, predestination, and orthodoxy to spar over. Some ass-clown wants to add a pulled pork sandwich to that list? Can you imagine Calvin or Edwards writing about this? Even better, let's rewrite Augustine - "Lord, grant me a non-fat Jenny Craig celery sandwich, just not yet. I've just got to have another Baby oh Baby oh Baby Back Rib."

This stuff drives me nuts. The most frustrating part is that there's a whole church full of whack-a-doo's that are following this guy around and sending him money. All in the name of God. *sigh* No wonder why most of the world thinks Christians are crazy. They keep running into people like David Pack. I need to get back to work now so I can get home at a reasonable time and explore the unknown dimension. I wonder what's for dinner?

Reach Out and Touch Someone

It's George Washington's birthday! I think. I don't really know why I get the day off, but hey, I'm not going to complain about it. The one nice thing about working at a law firm is that you get to take the most ridiculous days off. It's almost enough to make me want to support Ceasar Chavez day, although I don't think it will do me a whole hell of a lot of good up here in Oregon; I'm better off cleaning the shotgun out and rooting for Randy Weaver day... Regardless, it gives me a chance to get caught up on this damn thing.

I sat down to pay bills yesterday and I had the misfortune of opening my wife's Cingular bill. Those of you that know me well would probably agree that I could be labeled as "fiscally conscious." Read: I pick up pennies on the sidewalk. Needless to say, I was moderately displeased to see my wife had rung up a $137 cell bill. I had JUST switched her over to a new plan for sole purpose of avoiding nasty bills like this. After going through my full repetoire of Spanish, Tegalog, Arabic and Vietnamese (that's right, I can offend people by slandering their mothers in FIVE different languages!) I figured out that Cingular had me on the wrong rate plan. I called customer service. Further proof that Cingular is part of the global conspiracy against me, they were closed on Sunday.

Monday morning, 8:45 AM. After waiting on hold for 10 minutes, "Brandon" answered with one of those "Hi, how may I provide excellent service to you today" greetings. Resisting the urge to respond with "by giving me my F*ING money back," I thoughtfully explained my situation and confusion surrounding over $80 in additional roaming charges. Brandon was incredibly sorry and promised to do all he could to help me. Apparently, this equated to putting me on hold, taking a leak, grabbing a coke and coming back to me with "we'd be happy to knock 30% off your fees as a result of your confusion and sign you up for a new 1 year contract." I explained that I had recently bought my wife's new phone for the sole purpose of avoiding roaming fees and that I was not about to pay $56 because they screwed up my rate plan. Brandon then explained he had no record of me buying a phone, no record of me changing my rate plan and then told me he wanted to do everything he could to provide excellent service, but we were quickly approaching the limits to what he could do. "Let me go back to my supervisor and see what I can do." Back on hold for 10 minutes. I don't know whether I'm fixing my phone bill or buying a new car. I do know that if he comes back with "rust insurance" as one of my plan options, I'm going to take the next plane to the call center and beat him to death with my wife's cellular. Brandon returns again. "My supervisor really went out on a limb for you and is going to cover 50% of your fees. We rarely do that, so I'm happy we got this settled." Let's take a breather for a moment.

Do people actually fall for this crap? When you call and complain because someone screwed you, do you roll over when they offer to "meet you half way" or even at 30%? Maybe I'm just 'special' like that, because if I'm going to get off my ass and call Cingular (twice, given they're closed on Sundays), talk to someone who clearly has the most undesireable job in the world, second only to those people that change bed pans at the hosptial, and then wait on hold for 30-45 minutes for any kind of resolution, I'm sure as HELL not going to be satisfied with a 30% discount. Back to the story.

At this point, I've got Brandon on mute and I'm screaming "Serenity Now!" at the receiver. I calmly returned to the phone and explained to Brandon that I was closing my wife's account at that moment and wanted to pay the bill immediately. On hold again, Brendan is going back for a "second opinion." I could not believe he told me he was going back for a second opinion. What? Am I getting my colon removed here? I've been on the phone 45 minutes and Brendan should be grateful to God Almighty that I haven't explained where he could place my cell phone and now he's going for a second opinion. Then the Zen moment hits. At EXACTLY the same time as Brendan comes back with "we've agreed to cover your bill", my wife pulls out the email receipt for her phone, which includes the Job Order number with the details on the plan I selected in January. Needless to say, I take the oppotunity to lecture Brendan on the services I had ordered, my great displeasure with Cingular Wireless, my great displeasure with the quality of reception I get on my cell and my feelings on having to listen to Elmo's World from the other room while this whole ordeal was going on. I think I also threw in my thoughts on Howard Dean and the revamped Democratic party, but at this point, I think he was wiping the drool off of his chin and praying for the call to drop. As Brendan contemplated the benefits of going back to college to get out of his hell-hole job, I demand email addresses from the CEO down to customer support level, at which point he offers a physical mail address. Right. I'm going to put a stamp on an evelope and take it to the post office. OK.

So, here's to hoping that someone at the firm actually used our damn InterAction database and put some contact info in for people at Cingular, 'cause I'm going on an email-a-thon. Subject line: How you can provide excellent service to me.

Go Greyhound and Leave the Driving to us!

Don't you just HATE colleagues that take every available opportunity to throw you under the bus? I just read an article about some woman that got fired for talking about work in her blog (little did she know her boss was reading it), so I guess I can't go into too much detail. Some people just bug the HELL out of me though. Right now, I've got three words for you.

GO
BLUE
DEVILS!

Wine Tasting Notes

In an attempt to alienate yet another group of people, I thought I'd post about wine tasting notes. As I've mentioned before, I frequent a couple of wine sites where people post thoughts about wine, wineries and everything else under the sun. It never ceases to amaze me, however, when I see people go to such extremes to describe a wine. Example:

Heavy notes of saddle leather, tobacco, coffee, stink, minerals, and bandaids with some greeness and anise on the nose.

I'm immediately in awe that someone has the ability to distinguish all of those smells from one long sniff on a glass. They're all fairly distinct smells, none of which (save maybe anise) would ever encourage me to buy this bottle of wine. Who wants to drink something that smells like bandaids? Or saddle leather. Or "stink." Yech, I just cringe when I see that. When I think of "stink," I think of one of those fat people that showers every three days, who ALWAYS ends up sitting next to me on the Horizon shuttle to Seattle. Final summary for this glass:

Another contender for WOTN 95 pts.

(For those of you neandrathal beer drinkers in the audience, WOTN = Wine Of The Night.) You seriously mean to tell me that a wine that smells liks stink, bandaids, saddle leather and adds green to the nose to boot was your wine of the night and gets a 95 point rating? Maybe I need to readjust my wine appreciation skills here or something, because I'd sooner drink a bottle of white zin that try something that smells like that, much less rate it with a Wine Spectator equivalent of "a classic wine." Now, at the other end of the spectrum:

For those who like to drink a big wine young, this was quite an experience. Not decanted, but first glass allowed to sit open and untouched for 15 minutes. A deep dark rich purple wine, translucent, with those slow fingerling legs on the glass that can mesmerize you. My first approach was to nose the edge of the Riedel very cautiously and was rewarded with a light minty initial hit. As I pushed the schnoz forward, complex spiciness could be separated out from a deep dark fruit mixture with gentle oak backdrop. Edging forward to the first sip was like Poe's Descent into the Maelstrom....I knew I was not coming back. Heavyweight mouthfeel, a parade of deep plum, black currant, oak and a mocha-like taste rewarded the first few sips. Surprisingly, the acids and tannins allowed full identification of the gorgeous fruit in this merlot. The finish was long, syrupy, fruitful, and exciting. - Dick

Even signed by "Dick." I don't know about you, but I walked away from this review with an erection. The worst part is, I feel bad that I got excited about something so big and young. Screw Cialias and Viagra, I'm going to go out and buy a case of 2001 Pride Merlot. Apparently it will get me REALLY excited, with the added benefit of making my wife look even more attractive (is that possible? awww) the closer I get to the bottom of the bottle. One last note:

Yow. Nose of barnyard and horse maneur. Just what I would expect.

Ok. I can deal with the fact that my palate may not be advanced, hence my wondering if bandaids and stink are the sign of a great wine. But who takes a deep whiff from anything, expecting a wafting of crap, and then proceeds to drink a glass or two? At minimum, when someone comes along and says "yeah, I was right. It smells like horse shit" I think we all would agree it's a bottle to stay away from... right?

I am not a huge Syrah drinker, but this one I really liked. 2002 Pax Syrah (RP 95)

Apparently I was wrong. Not only does it smell like crap, Parker agrees with you that feces is an indicator of a classic glass of wine and rated it a 95. I just don't get wine tasting notes. I think it's great that people get excited about their hobbies and, frankly, I enjoy reading notes and figuring out which wines I'd buy based on them. I just don't understand where some of these descriptions come from. Maybe I just need to watch Sideways; I think I'm the only person in America at this point who has missed the flick. Feel free to post any intriguing tasting notes you come across.

Ask Drew - Answers, Part 1

Came to the realization that the only thing more annoying than sitting here and typing out responses to a bunch of questions all at once is actually reading the answers to a bunch of questions all at once. So, here are the first three.

From "Flaco"
Is it true that money can't buy you happiness, or are people just blowing smoke up my ass?

Well, Flaco, I'd have to say people are blowing smoke up your ass. I think it's true that money can't buy you love, but it can definitely buy you two 18 year old hookers and a case of vodka. If that's not happiness, I don't know what is. BTW, great picture at http://www.homies.tv/homies_flaco.htm . Instead of happiness, worry about buying yourself a belt.

From Barbara Walters
What is your position on women with families holding executive positions in corporate america? And, do you prefer to work for a man or a woman?

I'm all for women holding executive positions. In fact, I believe executive admins are critical to the success of corporate America. Who else is going to make my coffee? In all seriousness, I'm guessing that's not the response you're looking for...

Given I have no problems with females in exec positions, I think my answer is more relevant to the family side of the equation. I personally think that children are better off being raised with a stay at home mom whenever possible and have sacrificed in my life accordingly. If mom is a CEO and dad stays at home, more power to you, just don't expect me to hold back snide comments about dad wearing an apron and cleaning the house in his panties.

Would I prefer to work for a man or a woman? I think it would depend on the situation, but overall, I'd probably rather work for a man. I don't believe that gender has any impact on job performance (unless you're in the Army or something) and I've reported to women before with no issues. That said, however, I think that at times it is easier to confide and build relationships with people of the same sex, culture, etc. You DID ask.

From "anonymous"
Why even have a blog? Judging by the overwhelming number of comments and feedback you're receiving, it looks like a waste of everyone's time, including mine.

Ahhh. How kind. It's cheaper than therapy.

Ask Drew

Here's the oppotunity you've been waiting for. Ask a question, any question, and I'll answer it on the blog. It may not be the right answer, it may not be the answer you're looking for, but you'll get an answer none-the-less. Topics can range from "Did you really vote for Pat Buchanan in the primaries" to "Who is going to win the World Series" to "Why am I reading this blog?" Entries should be sent to drewkoto@gmail.com by Wednesday evening. Please let me know if I should use your first name, an alias or just post as "anonymous."

Back to School

I take a pre-calc class at the local JC on Saturdays. For those of you that are wondering, yes, I'd rather repeatedly slam a car door on my hand than spend 5 hours in a class on a Saturday. I think the most frustrating part is that I'm getting back into it as the "30 year old guy that really does his homework" so I actually give a shit about learning.

My instructor, and I use that term loosely, is 2 years younger than I am and shows up to class in sweats and a t-shirt. He started off the class with a 30 minute lecture on why we should all read Arab history to full appreciate mathematics, given "the Muslim people took what the Greeks came up with to the next level." It was all downhill from there. We spend most of our time arguing over whether or not he's made mistakes on the board vs. learning new material. When I questioned him on one, he said "oh, I guess you're right. I was never very good at Geometry." THEN WHY ARE YOU TEACHING A TRIG CLASS, YOU ASSMONKEY?" Did I mention I took trig at a JC in high school?

The big midterm was yesterday. After reviewing the chapter, he handed us the exam. Imagine studying for hours, only to find the exam has been written for a mildly retarded kid with the IQ of a box of tic tacs. We spent 3 weeks covering sin and cosin waves and relative word problems - not a single one on the test. Why? Because he would have had to create one from scratch and actually come up with an answer on his own. Instead, 25% of the test were conversion problems (we had study sheets that gave us the formulas), 50% was drawing triangles and there was ONE word problem, which he ended up drawing out on the board during the test because the ESL student in the class didn't understand it. He gave us three hours for a test that took me 20 minutes. And that was doing each problem twice to check my work. I'd like to thank Portland Community College for the oppotunity to piss $500 into the wind and ruin my weekends for 12 weeks so I could walk away with a cheap A. For the final, I think I'm going to bring a copy of my paycheck stub in to show to the instructor, just for the hell of it.

I'm going to grab a beer and start watching ESPN. Go Pats!

We are here to pump you up!

State of the Union summary: George Bush, after practicing his speech at least 20 times, delivered a great State of the Union address. Yes, I too was a little irritated with the Constitutional ammendment on the definition of marriage crap getting inserted into the speech in a weak attempt to blow the religious right. Maybe I'll explain my complex logic on that at a future point, for now, suffice it to say I don't think the Constitution is the place to deal with these issues. Other than that, I think he finally came across in a Presidential manner, as opposed to a cast member of Hee-Haw in a nice suit.

Today's thoughts are aimed at the following article - http://www.cnn.com/2005/LAW/02/04/silicone.death.ap/index.html
This is just wrong at so many different levels. Some random thoughts, in no particular order.

• This is, quite possibly, the ugliest looking gorilla of a woman I have ever seen in my life. I'm not quite sure if Mr/Mrs Stephen Thomas thought he was an ugly looking man, but as a woman, he's even worse. WTF goes through these people's heads? Never mind, I don't want to know. It's bad enough that Marv Albert wears panties; I don't want to hear this whack-a-doo's story.
• "The death of Andre Geter in December 2003 threw a spotlight on "pumping," a thriving underground practice among men living as women" As opposed to humping?
• "The silicone sealant that Thomas used on Geter is available in hardware stores." I understand that this guy isn't a rocket scientist to begin with, but how dumb do you have to be to realize that if you're shopping at Home Depot for cosmetics, something isn't right in your life.
• "after receiving injections in the hips and buttocks during a "pumping party" in Albany" Let me get this straight. 20 people get together to have a couple of drinks and pump silicon into their asses? I don't know about you, but the only thing worse than the whole idea of a Mrs. Stephen Thomas is the visual of a 300 lb black he/she bent over the sofa with Tito, his 300 lb buddy that missed the cut for Queer Eye for the Straight Guy, jamming a hypodermic in his ass.
• Did I mention they PAID $400 to get the injections? Send this guy to the Harvard School of Business, because he's one hell of an entrepreneur.

My apologies for being overly crass, but I'm sure none of you will actually comment about it. Instead, I'll get 10 instant messages saying I'm homophobic or something equally stupid. Yes, I'm in a bad mood. You would be, too, if you had to read this crap while eating a sandwich.

Star Dorks

Absolutely great. I REALLY needed this today. http://www.livejournal.com/users/krautboy/243291.html

Not to be outdone by http://www.cnn.com/2005/US/02/03/general.shoot/index.html

Will post something on the State of the Union when I get a chance.

Thong You Very Much

Was reading the NY Times and came across this article written by the ever exciting Maureen Dowd. For those of you whose daily internet updates are limited to the "Free Pic of the Day", I'll give you the quick recap of what's going on. An Arab translator at Guantanamo is writing a book on terrorist interrogation techniques used by the US. One of the highlights includes a female interrogator that wears a mini-skirt and thong underwear to question her prisoners, while "touching her breasts, rubbing them against the prisoner's back and commenting on his apparent erection." Yeah, makes me want to go blow up a bus, too. Later, the interrogator tells the prisoner she's menstruating (ok, back to reality now), smears something on his forehead and has the water in his cell shut off so he cannot clean himself. Ms. Dowd is deeply offended, of course, and reaches her own personal climax, exclaiming "such behavior degrades the women who are doing it, the men they are doing it to, and the country they are doing it for."

Can someone tell me what I am missing here? We have a group of prisoners sitting in Cuba that have information on impending attacks on Western targets around the world. We can dance on the issue of torture and how it applies to this situation all day; just ask our new attorney general, Alberto Gonzalez. History lesson of the day for the knee jerk liberals out there is that these people are not covered by the Geneva convention in any way, with most of them having violated each of the four key definitions of an enemy combatant:

• They must be in uniform to distinguish themselves from civilian non-combatants
• They must be openly bearing arms and not concealing them
• They must fall into an officer system/chain of command reporting to a political leader
• They cannot deliberately attack civilians or commit atrocities

Yet for the sake of this argument, I'm throwing all that out the window. Critics aren't getting upset we're slamming their fingers in doorjams, depriving them of sleep and making mean faces at them while they're urinating. They're upset because we're using women in mini-skirts to get information out of them.

Where do we draw the line here? I think it's time Ms. Dowd gets a reality check. These people would like nothing more than to snap her head off for being a westernized harlot and then post the video on one of their web sites. Yet, as more terrorists are plotting attacks here and more people are dying in places like Spain (3/11) and Iraq, Ms. Dowd would rather have you mulling over the influence of Victoria's Secret on foreign policy. How humane.