Posts Tagged ‘stupidity’

Dear Mr. Trump

Posted: April 21, 2017 in News, Politics, Stupidity
Tags: , , , ,

This is your chance to prove to everyone that businessmen are not scum-of-the-Earth evil masterminds who wring their hands in quiet mirth as they rain destruction down upon the dirty brown people of far off lands, and that we are, in fact, the source of jobs, investments, prosperity, and a welcome benefit to mankind and its quality of life.

It’s hard enough as it is to tread against the mindless current of the media and popular leftist business-hating culture.

You’re starting to fuck it up for all of us. Think about what you’re doing, man.

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If you want the Uruguay experience:

  • Take a blanket and soak it with water.
  • Get a filthy dog and soak it with water.
  • Drill holes in your roof.
  • Break half your plumbing, short out half of your electrical system. Not just half-assed breaking, no, make sure that shit’s leaking into the walls and shorting stuff out everywhere.
  • Rip out all your insulation.
  • Then turn the AC down to 50 degrees, and lay under the soggy blanket with the wet dog so you can experience what everything smells and feels like here (Obligatory Mold Smell + dog ass), while you try and get a bunch of disinterested, hopeless, unskilled morons (extra-special drooling short-bus morons) to fix all the broken stuff. Using all the wrong tools (bubble gum, masking tape, and coat hangers get you bonus points).
  • Oh, and pay 3x as much as you normally pay for the cheaper version of the stuff you usually buy.
  • Then fire some morons, and help them sue you.
  • If you want to get around, buy an ancient piece of shit car from 1970 and spend US$8000 on it.
  • Then pay $8 per gallon to fuel it.
  • Call someone to deliver something tomorrow, but then tell him you really meant next week but hey, why not just do it in a month, or not at all, if that’s what suits him. After all, you are a paying customer!

I’m sure I am missing about 500 other things but this should get you well on your way.

No, I didn’t tag this as humor because it’s not really funny.

El Buen Maestro

Posted: March 27, 2015 in Humor, Life, Stupidity
Tags: , ,

That’s what my downstairs neighbors called me after I went in and fixed the leaky pipes myself. Seeing as how the guy who installed them has probably fled Chile to avoid the torches and pitchforks, and the guy who I called to help me never showed up.

And so I learned how to solder copper pipes (because one of the first things I did during the teardown was to put the chisel straight through the gas line) and do Super-Duty Gringo jungle repairs on poorly-done Chilean PVC. And how to use plumber’s epoxy. And I actually did it right, because now there is no more feces raining down from anywhere but my own butt.

If this keeps on its current trajectory, in 6 more months I will have all the skills necessary to rebuild civilization from the stone age to the digital age after the zombie apocalypse wipes out humanity.

What had happened is that the “maestro” put a PVC pipe into an ancient iron one, and sealed it with nothing more than an entire tube of silicone. Said silicone was probably not meant for constant exposure to humidity and butt stuff, and so it fell apart 6 months later. And said pigiron shitty pipe was probably not meant for humidity and butt stuff either, because it had decomposed accordingly, and so I rerouted the other plastic pipes to another outlet, and epoxied the hell out of everything just to be sure.

Cutting the whole thing apart was a mess. It’s been done a hundred times; hero cuts into monster with chainsaw, getting sprayed with blood from head to toe, leaving a clean silhouette on the wall behind him. Only with me it was different in color and odor, as the reciprocating saw cut into the fermented sedimentary strata of poop in the bottom of the pipe… let me tell you there is no sensation quite like it. Last I felt this way was in Uruguay when I got a steaming shit shower from the backwards-built septic tank.

I knew better than to eat until I was done with this stuff, because I knew there would be gag moments. This was one of them.

I still don’t want to eat. I smell like a sewer. But it’s done!!!

Next I get to play with tile and cement, which is childs play for me at this point.

It’s funny, the whole situation, because I could have been finished with this crap a week ago had I just dove into it myself. Instead I kept waiting around for a guy I thought was reponsible to come and take care of it for me, because, well, I earn a lot more in the same amount of time for working my own job. It’s more efficient to do that and pay someone to do the repairs while I work, IF he fucking shows up to do said work. He said he would, and so I repeat the age-old mañanismo bullshit putting off my own stuff waiting on something that will never happen.

But hey, now it’s been fixed by a gringo, and con suerte it will endure for another century.

And now I am better than a Maestro Chileno. I am El Buen Maestro Gringo.

I just replaced the old fire extinguisher on my escape boat, since the water nazis saw fit to cite me for its lack of charge, and so I thought it might be a good idea to see if I could recharge the old one and keep it in the Evil Swamp Lair. And so I called the local fire department.

“Sorry, we don’t do that, and unfortunately we are not allowed to tell you where to go to get it done.”

“What?! Are you not the people to call about fire prevention and safety? How is NOT telling me where to get it recharged in any way good for anyone?”

“Sorry, sir, but it’s the law. It would probably be cheaper anyway to just go get a new one.”

Uruguayan revolution?

Posted: March 25, 2014 in Humor
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During a drunken conversation I had with BeelzeBob, after we had discussed the slaughter of the Charrua, I asked him, “How many people do you suppose you would have to get rid of to turn this country back from its ridiculous commie downward spiral?”

“I dunno,” he answered, “How many people live in Uruguay?”

“3 million, mas o menos.”

“Then 3 million.”

bigfoot

It seems that the Paraguayan embassy in Santiago is as elusive as Bigfoot. I have to get some documents legalized there and so I began my search on The Google.

The first address that comes up turns out to be an abandoned office in a dark building downtown, with decor that looks like it belongs in a 1940s film noir hard-luck detective movie. This is the kind of door that shows the silhouette of a woman in distress, knocking; a few moments later it swings open to reveal a sexy dame who promptly lights up her cigarette and pours out her lies as she begins her process of ruining the detective’s life more than it’s already been ruined. Maybe the door has been kicked in a few times; definitely seen a crow-bar or two. I look through the crack between the door and the frame, and there is nothing inside. Empty office.

I go back outside into the bustle of downtown. I cough in the smog-heavy air and the diesel fumes, and light up my own cigarette. The smoke washes away the city, clearing my lungs. Ahhhhh, much better.

I didn’t really smoke, but I should have to keep with the theme.

So I got my gumshoes walking to try the second address. Sure enough there is a Paraguayan flag in front. Nice-enough looking house. Signs point to go around the back. Around said house, in the pool house, is the consulate.

I go in, and it’s clean and orderly. Smells good. The nice girl at the desk greets me, and I sit down to present my papers like a good worker drone. Sharp fees, USD$95 per document, not payable to the consulate directly. I will have to go to the bank, and do a deposit in dollars, and bring the deposit slip back. But not today. Today after 12:00 the receiver of papers turns into a pumpkin, their inbox turns into a pumpkin, and a field of dense and unmovable spacetime forms around them which completely forbids any submission of documents until the next morning.

No sense in leaving these for pickup later tomorrow then?

No.

Because leaving papers-that-are-ready, today, to be processed tomorrow, so I only have to come back once tomorrow, and they only have to see my ugly face once tomorrow, is an act of efficiency and logic that is entirely unwelcome in a bureaucratic office. So I shall just have to bless them with my unique and sunny presence twice more.

As I shriek inside my head “Why, God, WHY?!?!??!!?!” I smile and nod and save up Postal Points for later when I go on the rampage which will be echoed throughout eternity by generations of fearful and fascinated historians. Vlad the Impaler will be forgotten and I shall be his replacement.

So tomorrow I shall need to wash, rinse, repeat, and make sure to shove the papers into the black hole before it closes.

La Granja del Pepe (PPS/PowerPoint document)

This one says a lot about Uruguayan culture, work ethic, the way they treat foreigners and capital, and why the place is the way it is.