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It’s funny how a few words can speak volumes about the state of our world and how much stupidity is in it. Just recently, we finally got Bell to fix some pretty expensive errors they’d made in our bill. In an attempt to make up for the errors, they offered us a whole pile of services for cheap. This sounded like a pretty good idea, so we took them up on it.

This morning, we got a call from Emily, their cute little automated phone assistant with the super perky voice. You know how I feel about Emily, but this time, she was pretty cool. She, er, it, told me that all my services were enabled, and if I wanted help on any of them, I just had to press the right button and it would be there. I decided to learn a thing or two about our new bells and whistles, and hit the button for call forwarding. The voice told me that if I wanted to forward calls to a number, I should lift the receiver, listen for a dial-tone and then dial *72, listen for some beeps and dial the number where I wanted my calls to go. Then I noticed that each time there were instructions on how to activate, deactivate or change a service, Emily helpfully informed me that I should lift the receiver, listen for a dial-tone and dial whatever I should dial.

I thought it was weird that they felt the need to tell us that before we could activate something, we should actually pick up the phone. Then I thought that wasn’t the part that was truly weird, because some phones are all fancy and have buttons on them to control services. The part that seemed completely stupid was the part where they had to tell us that we should listen for a dial-tone before mashing buttons. Uh, yeah. That would be good. I wonder how many calls they get that go like this:

Customer: I can’t change the number of rings my phone does before taking a call to that answering machine thing I have.
Rep: You have to pick up the phone and dial *94 and then specify the number of rings.
Customer: Yeah I know, but when I do that, nothing happens.
Rep: Did you hear a dial-tone?
Customer: There has to be a dial-tone?
Rep: Yes.
Customer: I didn’t pay attention.

Ug. Wow. But then again, I’ve seen a friend’s parents pick up the phone when my friend is on it and just start pounding away on the buttons trying to call somewhere. Then he has to yell at them before they realize that their line isn’t dead, and someone’s actually talking on it. Maybe that’s who this is for. But I thought his parents were in the minority! I guess not.

She’s Pretty Mean With A Screwdriver

Hmmm. You would think it would take less than an hour and a half for the guy breaking into the house of a 95-year-old woman who was confined to a wheelchairto realize that she could reach out and stab him through that window, so maybe he should choose another way in. But he didn’t, and after receiving several jabs with a screwdriver, he passed out, and she called 911. She did a pretty good job on him, one of his knuckles is almost gone! He’s not going to want to accurately describe how he got his wounds to anyone. And her family says she’s doing just fine. Perfect!

Nice Ass, Can I Look At It?

There’s been an update to the
strange story of Brian Persaud,
the New York construction worker who went to the hospital after a knock on the head and wound up in court after a forced rectal exam. The verdict has come in, and
the hospital has been cleared of any wrongdoing.

There are still a few things I don’t understand here though.

1. If the injury he was admitted for was a cut over the eye, why did they want to look at his ass so badly?

2. If they were concerned about spinal injuries as suggested both in the comments on the original post and the updated news article linked above, why would they sedate him and lose out on any useful feedback he could have provided, not to mention handcuff him, an act that could cause further damage?

3. If he’s that much of a handful, isn’t it logical to assume that maybe the spine is ok? I understand there could be concerns about shock, but somebody in shock isn’t normally described as “alert times 3,” and somebody with potential spinal problems shouldn’t be able to fight off more than one person…should he?

Somebody who knows more than I do about things like this can feel free to set me straight if I’m wrong, but something in this case, I’m not sure what exactly, just isn’t adding up.

That’ll Teach Him To Try To Rob The Blind

The story of a legally blind guy beating the crap out of an intruder and holding him at knifepoint for the cops would have been a great one, if not marred by a few quotes.

Let’s start with one from a police officer, who Steve and I have been calling Lieutenant Ignoramus. It reads: “It’s pretty remarkable for anyone that’s blind to be able to defend themselves, let alone make an apprehension. To be able to grab this guy and hold him down until police got there is pretty remarkable.”

The only thing difficult about defending yourself if you’re blind is to catch the moving target. Once you’ve got him, if you have even the remotest knowledge of anatomy, I think you can find his groin. If you know a few holds and you’re bigger and stronger than him, then vision makes no goddamn difference. And if you can do like Allan Kieta, the blind guy did, and grab a big knife, that’ll make an attacker get really still really fast.

The next one to contribute to the rapid decline of this story was Allan Kieta himself. He said that he couldn’t see to dial 911, and he only had one hand, and it took him 20 tries to do it. I could see having a shaky hand having more to do with the inability to dial than his not being able to see the buttons. Here’s a tip to the world. You do not need to see to dial a phone, especially your own damn phone. The buttons are always set up the same. From top left to bottom right, they go 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, *, 0, #, in that order, in a cute little square formation, and there is often times a dot on the 5. If you can’t dial by touch by now, especially when you can’t see very well, I would be shocked.

The final quote that made me just about keal was this one: “When my wife was cleaning the blood off, she said ‘I think it’s all his,'” Kieta said. Dude, either you’re really making us look helpless, or the reporter is going out of his way to do it. Clean the blood off yourself!

Arg. Like I said, this would have been a fine story. It’s pretty cool that he dragged the dude into the laundry room, beat the snot out of him and then dragged him to the kitchen and called the cops. If we’d just left out all the parts where he was made to look like a helpless cripple, that would have been great.

The Dipshits Got Off!

What the hell? Remember the dipshits who wheeled the corpse of their room-mate down the street to a cheque-cashing place so they could get his cheque? Well, charges were dropped! Apparently these guys were able to convince a judge that Cintron was alive before they left the house! Riiight! Then why did they wheel him in a fucking office chair? he had Parkinson’s. If he was that debilitated, I’m sure he had a proper wheelchair. And if he croked mid-walk, wouldn’t you, uh, stop and call 911? Or are these two numbskulls too stupid to realize when somebody’s heart has stopped going lub dub? And, they say they all had cheque-cashing authority on each other’s cheques. Then why didn’t the clerk think so? Why couldn’t they explain that, instead of wheeling in Floppy the corpse? If they thought he was alive, why didn’t they bring him in anyway? And what’s with the quote at the end where one of the guys who was accused said he was absolutely amazed? What was he amazed at? Was he amazed he got off? Was he amazed that he was charged? What the fuck?

This sucks. I’m sure they would have been convicted if the autopsy could prove the time of death in a more exact manner. I hope to christ that the judge didn’t truly believe this pile of crap. I certainly don’t.

Oh Dannie Boy, The Pipes, The Pipes, Are Deafening

This story cracks me up for three reasons. the first is because as I read it, I can almost hear JAWS sprouting a Scottish accent because of the words used. the second is the image of how much worse off the rest of the world’s hearing would be if pipe bands everywhere tuned up with ear plugs and couldn’t truly hear what they were doing. Oh god, I don’t know what is worse: deafening pipe bands which are in tune, or the horrid screeches that would come out of deafening pipe bands that weren’t in tune. Finally, the fact that the bagpipe is louder than a pneumatic drill makes me chuckle for some reason.

Refresh my memory. Was the bagpipe among the five shittiest musical instruments? Yes! It was! Well, I guess it belongs there.

The Apple Doesn’t Fall Far From The Creepy Sex Offender Guy

About a week or so ago I kinda sorta mentioned Freddie Johnson, who has been arrested more than 50 times for groping women on subway trains.

Well, as it turns out he’s got a twin brother named Teddy who, no shit, is famous for the exact same reason and is currently doing an 8 year jail stretch for it.

I’m not sure what else to add at this point, so I’ll end with this, one of the funniest yet most disturbing things I’ve read in quite some time.

In a disturbing jailhouse interview on Sunday, Freddie, whose fondling spree has spanned a quarter-century, told the Daily News that pretty women should expect to get groped on trains.

“When there’s this many attractive women in the city and on the subways, don’t they know [this will happen]?” he asked.

Uh…yeah…

CP Arf

Oh boy. I have a small, funny story to tell about Trixie because I just like telling Trixie stories.

Last week, I went to get my Level C first-aid certification. I figured I should have it, something else to put on my resume. Plus, I just thought it would be good to do, since I hadn’t done anything to do with CPR since 1998, and things have changed since then. So off I went, I got registered, and all that.

But as the class drew nearer, I got worried. I realized that first-aid training involves a lot of practice of various things that you would need to do in an emergency. Those things probably look pretty scary to a dog. She wouldn’t know I was practicing. She’d think it was the real thing. I wondered what to do. I decided to play it by ear. I brought a small tie-down, and a bed so I could fasten her to something heavy if I had to, and the class instructor said there was always the option of taking her downstairs to the receptionist and having her watch her. I wasn’t really happy with that option, because I knew I wouldn’t be able to focus on what I was learning because I’d constantly be wondering if Trixie was being any trouble. The two evenings I’ve had to leave her with my downstairs neighbour when Steve and I were going to loud concerts, it took me a long long time to relax and Steve had to tell me to refrain from phoning to check all the time. Once, he even threatened to hang onto my phone to prevent me from calling! I was good though, I resisted.

Anyway, off I went to class, thinking I had all the tools I needed. Hmmm. Notice the word thinking. I got there, and quickly realized there was nothing heavy enough in the room to tie her to. There was the table, but I thought if she got scared enough, she might be able to pull it, endangering everyone at it. It was too much risk. I thought, gulp, well, I’m just going to have to pray that she stays in a down-stay. Anybody see where this is going?

At first, everything was cool. We were all sitting around the table, and she was being the good as gold guide dog she can be. Laying there, snoring, it was perfect.

Then I got up to be the guinea pig used to demonstrate how to put someone in the recovery position. I told her to stay, and she did. She stayed as I walked to the front of the room, she stayed as the teacher told me to lie down, she stayed until I was lying down…and the person rolled me onto my side, and what is that? Feet coming towards me and a cold nose at my ear? So much for stay! The whole class laughed, and I was mortified.

Eventually, she realized that I was a willing participant in these bizarre exercises and did stay. That is, she stayed until I had to drag someone else on a blanket! This was too much for her. Over she came, and that was not all! She licked my poor unsuspecting victem, er, injured person that I was trying to drag, right on the back of the head! Again, I was mortified, even if the girl on the blanket was giggling. I told Trixie to stop, and asked the lickee if she likes dogs. Thank the sweet lord the answer was yes.

Trixie soon learned that the people I dragged and rolled and manipulated were not in fact toys for her, and stay still meant goddamn stay! This worked…until it was CPR time.

For a while, she showed amazing restraint. She stayed, until everyone was on the floor, doing compressions on mannequins. Then she couldn’t take it, and over she came. I told her “down”, and continued compressions. She was good…until I breathed into the mannequin’s mouth. Then she tried to give Resuscitation Annie a bath too! Who knew my way of counting compressions would be “1, 2, 3, 4, stop! 6, 7, 8, no! 10, …?”

Finally, on the second day, I could go up to the front of the room, have my arms and legs splinted and bandaged, and she wouldn’t move a muscle. But what a first day. I think the poor thing was unbelievably confused. She couldn’t have been too traumatized, because she happily led me back into the same room the next day as if it was the best place ever. All I can say is as happy as I am to have completed the course, hopefully I never have to do CPR on someone for real, not only because that would be scary as hell, but because a dog head might get in the way. Trixie, when I say down stay, I mean it!