My level of general outrage would probably drop a lot if I stopped listening to NPR. It spiked today when I was listening to Radio Times on my way to work, and guest Jeremy Scahill was talking about some of the crazy shit Blackwater's done in the past few years, besides the garbage in Iraq - like randomly sending a bunch of mercenaries armed with M4 carbines and a helicopter down to New Orleans in the wake of Katrina, without getting a request from anyone, and without government approval.

Because, you know, what New Orleans needed was more heavily armed people who think they're above the law. Sounds like everything Eisenhower was warning against back in his farewell speech in '61.

It shouldn't bother me as much as it does, but when authors who go through one of the umpteen vanity publishing websites and then claim to be published for realz, yo, I want to grab a hammer and smash things. No, just because your book is available through Amazon.com doesn't make it real, nor do your faux-press release "must read"s and lofty comparisons to books that people actually read give you any more credibility than you already have, which is to say none at all.

Motherfucking electric scissors.

Electric.

Fucking.

Scissors.

This shit wasn't supposed to exist outside of an infomercial referenced in a David Cross bit, and now... what in the name of all things holy are you thinking, Black & Decker? And the reviews of this thing... "Never in our wildest dreams think it would work as well as it does"... "We use ours for everything around the house"... they're scissors, man.

I... I give up. I could stand up against the damn squagles, but now... this is me, this is my towel, just point me where the hell to throw it, 'cause I'm out.

Even though I'm a photographer, I'm still a word freak at heart, and working as I do, get to read and hear people fold, spindle, mutilate and otherwise mangle language. A lot of it comes from lawyers, politicians and PR folks, but the average person, in an attempt to puff up what they think is too simple a sentence, really does the most damage.

That in mind, I took all the worst possible words I could think of and jammed 'em all together in a sentence, and I'll break it down after the cut:

( Utilizing our facilitator, Bernie, our group hopes to take the synergy of our fellowship and shift our personal paradigm. )

Thanks to an incessant fax telemarketer, and with some help from Google, I've now filed my first complaints with the national Do Not Call registry - congratulations, Global Premier Services! You're a bunch of assholes!

Jen and I have randomly gotten mysterious fax calls in the past couple of months, but when they dialed us five times in the last half-hour, I was ready to go on a Duke Nukem-style quest to destroy these idiots. Fortunately, popping their fax number (732-542-3503) into a quick search lead me to a forum post where a bunch of other folks had been having the same problems. These guys are a bunch of junk fax telemarketers, and apparently don't have enough sense to figure out if they're faxing their garbage to actual fax machines.

Now, I could've been nice. I could've called the company first (their number's 732-389-3900, if they're harassing you, too) and asked them nicely to get me the hell off their calling list.

But they already got cited by the FCC in 2002 for DNC violations, so I figured the best option was to go scorched earth on these motherfuckers. A quick trip over to donotcall.gov later, I'd filed a pair of complaints, one with the autodialer number and one with their actual number, all in about thirty seconds.

With that done, I called their real number, got to their customer service rep and blasted them, got transfered over to another department, yelled at them and demanded they immediately get my number off their calling list. They promised it'd get taken off right away - and so far, no calls. I'm not gonna bet money on it, though.

Updates/Additions:
In addition to filing a complaint with the DNC list (which I've been told is overseen by the FTC), you can also file a complaint with the FCC, using their online form 475.

The company goes by several names:
-Xpedite Systems, LLC
-Global Premier Services
-Premier Global Services

The main line for the company is 732-389-3900, as noted above, but they claim to have a toll-free line, 877-771-8283. Either way, the direct contact for their Do Not Call list is 732-389-3900, x7005.

All of this is noted on their company website's privacy policy page, which comes off as a big load of crap. There's also some fine print down at the bottom that says you'll be added to their Do Not Call list for 10 years, which sounds nice, but doesn't cut it for me.

Their corporate offices contact info:
The Lenox Building
3399 Peachtree Rd. NE
Suite 700
Atlanta, GA 30326
(404) 262-8400

And judging by how their email system seems to be set up, these are guesses at email addresses at which you can try contacting their bigwigs:

Boland T. Jones, CEO: boland.jones@premiereglobal.com (not bouncing as of Dec. 13, 2006)
Jeffrey A. Allred, Pres. & COO: jeffrey.allred@premiereglobal.com (bouncing and apparently not legit)

Failing that, feel free to pop those names in your favorite search engine and see what comes up.

------------
UPDATE:

As of Dec. 2007, I have a dedicated anti-telemarketing blog at http://telemarketthis.blogspot.com/

If you have horror stories, companies violating the DNC or anything else you want to pass along, pop over and either drop a comment or an email.

Dear Pennsylvania-based bennies:

If I hear any of you bastards complain about the high price of gas after seeing what was roughly all of you streaming down Route 42 South towards the good ol' Jersey shore, I will personally come down to Ocean City (via bike) and smack that Kohr Bros. cone right out of your hand. You bought the SUV, you live with it. Or stop driving.

Love,
B-Dawg

Technically speaking, by the definition of the word, the Ultimate Ribbon SUV is not ironic. Well, it would be, if it were driven by an anti-war, pro-downsizing the military hippie type, but that isn't the case.

Still, driving a big-ass truck that gets you 14 miles per gallon, then plastering it with "Support the Troops" slogans is at least something of a contradiction in philosphies, given our current situation in the Middle East. That was the idea.

If you're confused, go pick up a daily newspaper. Or Time. Or Newsweek. Or at least turn off "Everybody Loves Raymond" for five goddamn minutes, people.

All right, this bullshit with Loews Cinemas adding a note to their movie times saying that, because of ads, the movie actually starts 10-15 minutes later... there's a much better solution: don't go to Loews or any other movie chain that forces you to watch ads when you're paying $8 or $10 or whatever for a movie ticket. Bastards.

So fresh off our IKEA visit (more on that later - including pictures - no, seriously), Jen and I were sitting in the Haddonfield Starbucks, winding down the evening, and I notice a print hanging on the wall that featured the Ye Olde Towne Clocke-style giant-ass ugly motherfucking clock.

You know the one I'm talking about. It's here, it's here, it's here, it's also here... oh, and here, here, here and here.

It's the Generic Town Clock - it's a virus that's slammed the East Coast, and I can only hope it doesn't spread... but with people's penchant for crap, it's probably everywhere by now.

The arrogant ugliness of the clock isn't really what bothers me, it's the fact that presumably charitable organizations like Rotary or the Lions Club or whatever the local civic club might be goes out and raises the cash for these things - and it's usually something like $15-20 grand for the Generic Personalized Town Clock (Now With Your Town's Name!). That's $15-20 grand they're pulling away from people or other organizations that might actual benefit from the money, and all for a giant-ass fucking clock.

And those organizations never have a problem raising the cash: people just throw money at this shit. It's as though a strand of Ebola that only liquifies your brain made a run through town - "Oh, money for an overpriced eyesore? Ah, fuck the blind. Here's a check! Better yet, here's cash!"

Even my poor Bridgeton, the town that's falling down, has one of the damn things - and it sits right across from the front door of the office. Thank God our parking lot is in back and I almost always enter and exit through the press room, which opens on to the lot, because otherwise I would lose my damn mind.

Side note: for all of you with access to Parade Magazine in your Sunday paper, check out all the JP2 schwag they're hawking in there - what the hell, the guy's been dead almost a month, the Franklin Fucking Mint might as well capitalize on it, right? But then, I suppose if Gandhi had been assassinated in the '80s, the commerative plates would've been inevitable.

While preset-surfing in the car this afternoon, I came upon back-to-back playings of Beyonce's "Crazy In Love" on two separate stations - and both were the neutered versions with the Jay-Z interlude completely chopped from the song, replaced by five seconds of the Beyonce backgrounds as a segue into the end of the song.

One of the stations has recently changed call letters and is obviously moving to a different demographic, and so it's going with the whiteification of hip-hop: it's OK to listen to Beyonce singing, but if you bring in the voice of a young black guy, then the utter destruction of the world will follow. Or something like that.

And that, along with bleeping the word "weed" from Snoop Dogg's "Drop It Like It's Hot" are two of the many things that annoy the living hell out of me lately. Fine, I understand dropping obscenities, but hamstringing music to make it more palatable is just dishonest.

Dear Hummer driver:

We all know you're compensating for something. If you really want to drive those hideous wannabe tanks, join the military and get shipped overseas already, where you can at least theoretically earn some of the chops you think you have.

In reality, you're an lawyer/CEO/insert overpaid position here, not GI frikkin' Joe. You're usurping credibility, and in such a pathetic way that only the biggest losers will legitimately think you're cool.

Why not just drive a tank? It's almost as fuel-effecient, plus it has a giant gun turret... and, well, yeah. Phallic is as phallic does.

Incidentally, thanks for forcing us to go fight over all the oil in the world because you're such a selfish asshole. That's another big plus.

Love,
B-Dawg

I'm impressed that Dubya's doing everything to push himself from "marginally bad President" to "total frikkin' stooge."

I mean, really, if we're gonna start basing everything the government does on Leviticus, let's see here... we're gonna need the following amendments:

Amendment XXIX:
Section 1. After one year from the ratification of this article, the sale or transport of pigs, lobsters, crayfish, squid, octopus, manatees, winged insects, mice, lizards and most small, crawly-type animals within or across state lines for import or export purposes is banned.

Section 2. The Congress and the States shall have concurrent power to enforce this and any other loony attachments to this amendment.

Amendments XXXII:
If you're a guy, it's a snake with helmet, not a sweater. Get used to it. No, you don't have a choice.

Amendment XXXV:
Pimples, boils, warts and the like must be dealt with by priests, not board-certified dermatologists. Leper colonies are back in vogue.

Amendments XXXVII-LII, inclusive:
Don't even think of going near a woman. In fact, let's just say that a menstruating woman is the devil, and leave it at that. Also, you probably shouldn't have sex with your sister, mom, daughters, granddaughters, etc.

Amendment LV:
A partial repeal of Amendment XIII, since Lev. 24:44 overrides all other laws. It's now OK to have Canadian or Mexican slaves, Canadian slaves being preferable.

Amendment LVI:
The death penalty is now applicable for the following:
1. Cursing one's parents.
2. Adultery.
3. Incest.
4. Polygamy.
5. Homosexuality.
6. Beastiality.
7. Consulting with the dead.

Man, ain't it great to live in a constitutional theocracy based on outdated laws - laws that couldn't possibly need any changes, despite the continuing evolution of humanity - that held one particular society together a few thousand years ago?

Maybe it's just me, but shouldn't starting a war knock you out of the running for the Nobel Peace Prize? OK, if Bush and Blair had toppled Saddam through any means but war, I'd say yeah, but they didn't - so why are they in the running?

The Norwegian politician who threw them into the ring claims it's because taking out Saddam has reduced the threat of weapons of mass destruction.

Here's the thing, though:

Saddam didn't have 'em. He used to, yes, but that's because we gave them to him, back when we thought he could kick Iran's ass in the Iran-Iraq War. He didn't have 'em when Dubya decided to invade for reasons known only to him - and reasons that change every other week.

And yeah, Saddam wanted WMD. All dictators do. Wanting them, even making pathetic, failed attempts at them doesn't really make you much of a threat. That sorta knocks out that argument.

Of course, then there's the reasoning that kicking out a dictator and bringing democracy to Iraq is a good thing - and yes, it is. Problem is, you're setting either setting a precedent, and now have to kick out every dictator - Qaddafi, Robert Mugabe, Kim Jong-Il, Fidel Castro, Hugo Chavez, King Fahd of Saudi Arabia - who smashes democracy and generally kicks around the people, or everyone else starts wondering what your motives really were.

And considering Qaddafi and Jong-Il both had real weapons - nukes, chemical weapons and the like - it would seem they should be a bit higher on the pre-emptive invasion priority list.

But it probably doesn't matter, because I can't really see the Nobel committee passing over any legit candidate - I'd even take the Pope, because he at least sticks to peace above everything else - and going with Bush and Blair.

So, you're driving an SUV in a driving sleet storm. The roads haven't been salted since the snowstorm the previous day, and are in terrible shape.

Do you:
-Drive considerately and carefully, recognizing the limits of your vehicle and the conditions in which you're driving?

or

-Tailgate habitually, try to turn in front of oncoming traffic, then reconsider at the last minute and generally act like you're James Fucking Bond crossed with a NASCAR driver?

Yeah, that's what I figured.

Bowl sponsorships annoy the hell out of me - like the Erricson-Keebler-General Mills-Microsoft Bowl.

Well, no, that one doesn't exist. But the Nokia Sugar Bowl? The Capitol One Bowl, the GMAC Bowl, for God's sake?

I give a little bit of respect to whomever sponsors the Rose Bowl, because at least they have the sense to make it the Rose Bowl, sponsored by Company X.

Similarly, stadium sponsorships annoy the hell out of me. As Rick Reilly said in one column on amendments to the rules of baseball:
Oh, and if the name of a ballpark changes more than once in 10 years, the fans take over naming rights. Then, if an owner ends up with Creatine Yard, it's his fault.

Dear Philadelphia television news stations:

Running a half-dozen pieces on the Mummers does not qualify as a news broadcast. In fact, running a single story on the Mummers before New Year's Eve should disqualify you from continuing as a news operations; a second story would cause the FCC to strip you of your license to broadcast.

There would, however, be an exception for the poor schmucks who actually signed up to broadcast the mess that is the Mummers Parade - because let's face it, those guys are gonna be suffering enough on New Year's Day.

So yeah. Less Mummers, more actual news. Thanks.

Love,
Me

My family, a mostly conservative bunch, has a group on Yahoo, and the other day someone posted a forwarded email - ( the original text is here. )

Some stuff in there struck me as fishy, especially the last part claiming everything had been verified through Google, so I did a little research, checked federal statistics, and posted ( this revised version. )

I actually got a response to my email from my cousin, a cadet at West Point, saying he likes the original version better.

Quoi?