Craigslist

For a century now Craigslist.com has been a website devoted to the sterilization of the american consumerism spirit. Some have used craigslist all their lives. Others, when asked about craigslist, look at you and tell you they have a cousin Vinny who used Craigslist back in 1973 and sold an old box of crayons but had a bad experience. Still others have a sister who bought a box of crayons and fell in love with the seller, Vinny, and had to break it off when Vinny started harrassing her at work over the shipping costs for the crayons. And still others buy and sell all the time on craigslist and are the foremost authority on the scammers you come across on craigslist. The scammers will tell you that they're just misunderstood and they really do have a brother that just took a job in London and they are really tired of people not believing that they just want to surprise their brothers and are willing to pay extra for shipping and would never abuse your paypal account. The people at paypal will tell you they are not really based out of Mymbawbe and their African/Phillipean/Asian accent is common in West Texas and you're just being paranoid. So basically, everyone is a liar and pervert so deal with it. But I digress.... Craigslist was invented by a guy named Steve who knew a guy who knew a guy who had a cousin named Vinny who had a box of crayons but couldn't sell them on Ebay because his account was closed down. The account of his account being shut down had something do do with an incorrect credit card number which wasn't authorized because he tried to use 4 digits for a security code instead of three. (Vinny might be good with cars but his dyslexia doesn't help him out when he gets scroogled.) So Vinny was stuck with the crayons and couldn't return them to Target because he lost the receipt. The gal at Target knew Vinny from his Ebay profile picture and she was still mad over the whole security code issue. So, out of the depths of consumerism hell a website was born. Now, because of dial-up modem connections being so slow Craigslist took forever to become the household profanity it is today. But, as we all know from our experiences with child-proof caps on our aspirin bottles, frustration leads to name recognition and profanity. But I digress... So Steve, setting up his shop in his mother's garage (she still is not allowed to park her own car in the garage but Steve does occasionally open the garage door because of the gasoline smell) and continues to this day answering all those nasty emails he receives when a brother doesn't receive the right car being shipped to London. Steve will never divulge the true identity of Craig but the police know his first name and the investigation continues. Craigslist is now a multi-trillion dollar enterprise and Steve now has 4 garages throughout the tri-county area in operation 24 hours a day every six days a week. Steve gets really tired but luckily the help is really cheap in the Phillipines. Will Craigslist be around forever? That question is as old as creation itself but probably isn't as interesting. And Steve is actually older than 46 but takes a lot of formaldehyde with his cornflakes. My name is Rueuhy and I approve this blog.

The art of manipulation

Cats are wonderful creatures but only seem to work in a good stew or broiled. At least that's what the French would have you believe. Myself, I believe they are the perfect pet. Load up a bowl of food and water, leave the house, and return to find some food gone and water gone but the cats barely recognize your existence. Until the food is completely gone you are merely a seat or scratching post. But there is an understanding between us. That bowl must be filled every morning. Even if it's filled at midnight the night before and only two percent has been eaten there needs to be the act of re-filling. And they will observe that there is actual food dropping out of the bag. Cats are careful and meticulous when it comes to their feedings. And no matter how messy they may be and how much food they get into their water dishes, they expect a level of freshness to that water. Their water dishes should be just as clean and new as the water in the toilet. At least that's my understanding of it. Cat's are special creatures existing in their own little worlds with the occasional excursion into our world. And the older they are the more set in their ways they become. We used to have an outside cat but now I've come to realize that the outside temperature must be within 72 degrees +/- 1 degree. And it can't be sprinkling. And the noise must be down to a bare minimum. The cat known as Gizmo is very picky about the outside conditions. And she has a certain look when she has to wait more than a minute to be let back in. But she is seven years old. And for cats that's almost nursing home age. What's nursing home age? Well, that's when they get so picky about going outside that you take your cat with you to visit "grandma" at the nursing home, pick out an unsuspecting elderly resident who is napping in a wheelchair by the tv in the visitor's center, and sit beside her trying to revive her memories of feeding and playing with Gizmo. Then, once a fake connection has been made, you excuse yourself to go to the bathroom. Once inside the bathroom you exit out the window and walk home. The elderly resident will be so excited about her reuniting that the orderlies will just assume the cat always lived there to begin with. That's how these cats end up in nursing homes if you were not aware. But I digress.... The biggest reason for having a cat versus any other pet is their ability to attack shoelaces. What most people do not realize is the danger shoelaces really are to the un-expecting. For years, with the aid of cats everywhere, this menace to the peace and tranquility in living rooms around the world has been successfully deterred by the antics of kitties throughout the world under the illusion of playfullness and boredom. Cats have been doing this for so long we no longer question their cuteness but rely on it without ever knowing their true mission. Many years ago, in a Hilton conference room in Dallas Texas, a plan was approved by the Council of Feline Operatives Preventing World Wide Chaos, also known as CFOPPWWC. There mission was the protection of shoes everywhere from the dangers imposed upon them from shoelaces. Now, let me be clear on this - cats are really stupid creatures without a clue but somehow they understand shoelaces so we don't/can't question them on this. Sometimes a cat just knows thing. So the plan was born and today millions of americans are safe and secure from this menace and cats continue to get paid through scratching posts and kitty vittles. It's just their way Little Tree. And we will never know what they have really done for us. But they really are manipulative little creatures and will one day escape all those nursing homes who hold them hostage. My name is Rueuhy and I approve this blog.

Under Pressure

I'm not going to say the music group Queen stole this title for a song they used to sing but I believe the evidence is pretty clear. The idea of being "under pressure" is not a new idea at all. In fact, most diamonds or crude oil will tell you that it's been around for many years. While leaving Jacksonville the other week I noticed a billboard by the side of the road. Fortunately for me there are laws in place against the placement of these structures in the middle of the road which makes for safer driving. As I was reading the billboard I noticed I had swerved into oncoming traffic and the driver of a car was freaking out like I wasn't going to get back in my own lane. People freak out far too easily nowadays and I believe it was pretty obvious that after wailing on his car horn for so long I would eventually get back in my own lane. And I don't think waving his middle finger at me was behavior he would display in front of his own mother and I don't think it was necessary in front of my mother. She was already freaked out enough as it was so why add to her panic? Some people just have no sense of etiquette when it comes to being hit head on. But I digress... Anyway, the billboard itself was a promotion from many years ago revamped for this century. A big bear wearing a park ranger's hat bearing the name "Smokey" was pointing at me. This would be bad enough if not for the tone he was looking at me with. And what he was saying was, "Only you can prevent forest fires!" I believe there was an exclamation point at the end of his statement but if there wasn't there might as well have been. And this is what almost caused the head on collision my mother would have suffered. I have already filed a lawsuit against the bear but it doesn't seem to be gaining any traction. The bear in question, Smokey, seems to have no qualms with placing his face on billboards and in magazines or wherever the mood strikes him. And I believe it is pretty personal. Me, I'm the only one who can prevent a forest fire? Does he have any idea how much pressure this puts on me? And I don't even live near a forest. Is he saying I need to relocate because of these superhuman powers I've been given? How am I supposed to prevent every single forest fire that starts in these forests? And they're all over the world. I really can't be in twenty or more places at once. And what about lighting strikes? How fast does this Smokey believe I can react and get a bucket of water in to the forest? It's way too much pressure. And I'm pretty sick of it. There isn't a phone number or any other way to contact him. How can someone just put up a huge picture of themselves, point at me, and then label me a failure for not being able to do the impossible? I'm pretty sick of avoiding leaving town so I don't have to look at his hairy face and those accusing eyes. And what's the deal with the hat? Did some ranger have to die just so Mr. Smokey could have some kind of uniform? So there it is. I feel so much pressure from this. And no one even mentions it or asks me about it. I feel alone on this. Would it kill the people of Jacksonville just to ask me, "Hey, how's the forest fire fighting going?". Or a simple "Would you like a phone call if I happen to see a forest fire starting?" Nope, it's all on me. And I can honestly tell you that my family hasn't even lifted a finger to help me out. But it's okay. This is my own war. A silent war with very few casualties. I'm alone in this and no one else should have to struggle with the failure I feel. But it would be nice to hear back from the bear every once in a while. I've asked the billboard people how to contact the bear but they want to keep that a secret obviously. They just look at me crazy and yell at me, "There's no stupid bear. Get out of my office." So this war continues. Someday, when there are no more forest fires they'll thank me. But for now the war continues. And if you ever see me out there you can be sure that smoke won't last. Because I am Rueuhy. A forest fire fighting machine. My name is Rueuhy and I approve this blog.

I don't want no trouble

Movie reviews. Movie critics. Movie audiences. What do these three things have in common? You probably said movies, didn't you? Well, if I've learned anything in these 21 years of life it's this: There are reviews and critics and audiences and rarely do I agree with all three at the same time. Let's take Wizard of Oz, The Reckoning for instance. Mark Wahlberg did an excellent job as a witch hunter but Lindsey Lohan showed very little substance. This totally goes again Michael Bloomberg's review of the 32oz. Pepsi he drank watching the movie. I believe "anti-effervescent" isn't even a real term the soda pop industry even uses. This just goes to show you how out-of-touch Mr. Bloomberg really is with the entertainment industry. And he's still on that kick against Brittany Spears. But I digress.... The remake of the 1828 classic Wizard of Oz is perhaps, in my own best interests, the worse movie of the 20th century and perhaps, if I may be so bold (which I will be with or without your permission), the worse movie of the 2000 - 2020 era of film-making. But it made money. Audiences came out with a new sense of purpose and idealism. Jimmy Franco is a god they said. Actually, I believe what I said was, "Jimmy Franco is the worse." So there you have it. The reviews, and reviewers and the audience consisting of reviewers were a tight lipped, bruised bunch of crayons painting a new scene on the entertainment industry's canvas promoting its own demise through billion dollar ticket sales. Because, if Lindsey Lohan and Mark Wahlberg teaming up to hunt three witches surrounded by midgets/little people/height-challenged singing woodsmen is someone's idea of movie magic, then Hollywood is in trouble. Because at some point these children and the brain-dead parents of these children who fill the audiences and clap out loud at the worst times because there is a hidden card at the corner of the screen informing them to clap-now and they feel obliged to do so, will sterilize themselves through popcorn and soda (this is based upon Michael Bloombergs' case study of popcorn eaters and the soda they drink people). But I may be wrong. Perhaps a new low in entertainment (even though the scenery was "to die fer" is upon us. The standard in which a movie is ranked hasn't changed. The audience, and the level of story and acting they demand, has changed. Therefore, (i.e. I believe is the next letters to follow therefore), the expectation of the reviewers has changed. What once followed an unfiltered, bold critique of movies has become a yawn-filled, co-exist mentality from the reviewers of Hoolywood (yes, I purposely misspelled Hollywood and renamed it). Because Hoolywood has changed. Before, the audiences demanded a certain standard from Hoolywood and Hoolywood reciprocated with it's diverse collection of crap. Now, Hoolywood produces their idealistic version of diverse crap and markets it and demands the audiences to follow with the money through shame and self-loathing of their diversity and complexity. You must homosexualize and feministize your view of the world or Hoolywood will shame you into a certain white-trash, small-minded, gun-toting, bible carrying, right wing nutjob label only dogs and cement workers deserve. (And I'm not trying to label cement workers but let's be honest here - aren't they usually white-trash, small-minded, gun-toting, bible carrying, right wing nutjobs?) I know at least 99% are and I apologize to the 1% but you didn't exactly get forced into the cement industry did you? No one came to your door and said, "Hey there, if you don't apply and take this cement worker job you're gonna die." So there you have it. The biased and hip-hop, co-existing, liberal, fansty-pantsy Hoolywood execs have manipulated so many for so long that the Mark Wahlbergs and Lohans have no other choice but to do these roles. And get paid millions to do it. At some point they're gonna expect fame and glamour also. But we just continue to go don't we? We love our movies and our own logic is over-ridden by the lust for entertainment. And Hoolywood understands that. And they will continue to manipulate us until we are shamed enough to contribute an extra dollar while purchasing our tickets to go to the Michael Vick memorial victims of dog abuse fund. For those who don't know, the Michael Vick memorial victims of dog abuse organization is a group of hoolywood starlets and stars who get together in Rockefeller center and promote awareness of the attacks on owners by dogs who have been forced to wear little sweaters by their owners and finally have a mental breakdown and attack their human carriers. It's a worthy cause cause Hoolywood and Spielberg say so. My name is Rueuhy and I approve this blog.

Where's the beef?

In the old days, when tv commercials could be innovative and people would stop and stare and say, "Hey! That's really innovative.", the fast food franchise Wendy's came out with one of the most innovative, quick, witty, slang terms that lasted for a long time. "Where's the beef?" was asked by a little old obnoxious lady/grandmother and quickly entered into the everyday conversation of America. The old woman, Clara Pellar, would stand alongside another actress and ask "Where's the beef?". Wendy's was drawing attention to the lack of burger found in the competition's burgers. Fast forward from 1984 to present day and the same is being asked about the new, innovative phones on the market today. In our short-term awe of today's quickly changing technology the question we ask ourselves when a new model or update comes out is "What's different?" Isn't that pretty much the same phone I already have? The ads placed strategically every 30 seconds on your tv and computer and phone and billboards and buses and magazines and even YouTube videos tell us we don't need different as long as we remain cool. Of course remaining cool only costs between $50 - $300 for phones and $200 - $2500 for computers. Wendy's played it safe back then only asking customers to spend a $1 or more for the coolness factor. Steve Jobs had no qualms asking us to spend hundreds because there was beef in the new phones he was offering. Today, almost six months from the purchase of the newest and greatest phone to ever see the android/apple market, we look at our $199 investment and say, "This is just not fast enough and the camera just doesn't have enough pixels. Forty years ago, when I still believed in a fat guy showing up with plastic toys made by elves with tools as common as a hammer and pliers, I would sit in awe for one morning out of 365 and imagination would overtake me. Now, forty years later, I simply can't wait a few weeks for a price drop in the latest and greatest technological wonders. I am expected, like a good consumer, to keep the madness going. Even now, typing on this old dilapidated $1000 laptop, I am un-impressed like I was several months ago and my mind turns to thoughts of ebay and cnet tech for the latest updates. What the heck is wrong with me? And You? Are we that de-sensitized to the appreciation of that which glitters? Can we possibly sit through another ad and say to ourselves, "This is good enough for what I need" and smile with satisfaction? The question remains how hard am I willing to work to waste another paycheck on the latest gadget to come out of apple headquarters? Or South Korea? Or China? Apparently I am still willing and happy to do it. The HTC One has hit the shelves and this one is totally different. The old phone had a speaker on the back. The newest version has two speakers. Can there be any debate? My name is Rueuhy and I approve this blog.

Little venom

Every once in a while something happens to us from the inside and out. For me it happens at a greater rate than most. I see the world without blinders on. In fact, I really try to see everything from the perspective of "How is this going to destroy me?" Some would call it being a pessimist. I call it being real. The world is not rosy. It's not okay. There is much wrong with the world and sometimes the stench comes through that fragrant bouquet of roses. Sometimes life just stinks and there's not much you can do except put on a fake smile, make a joke, buy something shiny and eat tacos. Or pizza. Or even chinese food. But the point is you can't let that devastation ruin you. Yes, it can ruin your life. Yes, it can be painful. Yes, it sucks. But it can't ruin you. You must be better than the pain and the muck and the stench. When it ruins you very few can decipher where the stench ends and you start. It's a hole in the ground that calls to you and tells your friends go ahead and shovel a little dirt on me I'm done. But, at some point you're gonna see that sun shining down in the hole and you're gonna feel that worm crawling across your face and you're gonna say "this dirt is cold and I want pizza again". So, life goes on. And you never really have to start again because you never really stopped. Life is an endless progression that you have no real control of. You can change a few things and tweak a few things but ultimately she will find you. And you will discover you were never really alone. Because the government's been spying on you ever since your parents filed for your social security number. If anything is relevant to you existing that should be a wake-up call. Don't let you're closest admirer be the fed's. You're better than that. Or at least your mom thinks so. Or your dad. Or your grandparents. Whoever filed for that card will tell you so. Because you're more than a number (xxx-xx-xxxx). So the next time that customer service rep slides that piece of paper across his desk and tells you to fill out the info and make sure you hyphenate that ssn number you tell him you're more than that. You don't need his money or his free pen. You're more than a number. You deserve life without some fake shiny car. You want the pony. (You remember the one the parents promised you if you tried hard in school?) You want the brown shiny horse. That's what you deserve. Life has a little venom. Sometimes you get bit. Sometimes your arm swells up and there's not much you can do except wait. The swelling will go down or you'll die. But either way something's gonna happen and that's life. I'm Rueuhy and I approve this blog.

First posting

This is the first of the last of a new beginning. Or maybe I should start out "It was a cold and damp fish when lindsey saw the cow drop on her windshield." But what's important is the idea. Lindsey never saw the cow coming and she probably was texting anyway. My name is Rueuhy and this is my blog. Written my way. With punctuation and everything. The beginning of the day, this day at least, starts out in the morning. No early afternoon for me. I'm starting this day in the a.m.. I forget if you have to put a period after another period. I hate periods. Perhaps not as much as the ladies (or perhaps more but who can measure such things). This blog will be about me. And let me be clear - I am the foremost authority on me. I know many think they know more about me than I do but that's just them and this is me and I am what I say I am. So, now that that's out of the way... I am here for the good of all that is Rueuhy. I have answers to most things but there is no actual money-back guarantee or anything so the answer may not be what you like but it will be what it is and it is mine alone. The answer to life, the universe, and everything has been said to be 42. The problem with this miscalculation is not really based in the answer or the question but rather the probability of the variables. Is a 6 really a six (such as 6 x 7 =42) or is 7 in standard or metric? That's what I'm talking about. You see, the answer, even to life itself, is really never a simple exact equation. There are many variables to each answer. Such as "Would you like to see a movie this weekend?" Now, simply answered the choice is either "YES!!" or "NO!!!!" But nothing in life is as clear cut or precise. There are many other variables to consider. Such as: By myself? With You (no way)? Or with your best friend who is really cute? Or with your ugly friend who is not really a challenge to my manhood so why not? Or what movie? Which movie? Will there be popcorn or soda? Will I be paying for this or will the movie theater be paying me to see the latest trash to come out of the entertainment grinder that spits out the latest stupidity? So, as you can see, the answer is never simple or precise. And 42 may be the answer if you have six kids and 7 ex-wives. It's all relative to each person's own parameters. Above all, this blog will dwelve into the chaos of my subconscious and dare to give you the answers you need. But only for a little while. The doctor's given me 50 years at the most so this cannot possibly go on for ever. (Just look at Dear Abby - obviously she took the scenic route through life and felt she had to comment on everything.) I am not here to torgue off anybody. Let me be clear on this. Just like our current president (of the United States and not South Korea) He's clear on everything except for those things that we scratch our heads over such as NO JOBS but healthcare for everyone. And yes - I DID GO THERE!. For those of you who were just born there's been a debate raging for the past 20+ years about healthcare, who pays for it, who gets it for free, alien or non-illegal trangendered aliens or visitors from Panama. The debate goes like this - Up north, (not Mexico) is a nother country by the name of Canada. The only time they cross the border to the south is when they're sick. I don't know why they think our doctor's are better but it has something to do with capitalism and the vetting of the inferior, incapable surgeons/physicians who can actually cure the sick but I digress.... Anyway, these aliens with passports attack our major health complexes and take up valuable resources from us (we'll just say citizens even though the neighbors from the south - undocumentables, fill the waiting rooms at a higher ratio than cheese versus milk in cream cheese). All under the pretense that their free healthcare is somehow slow and unobliging. Then, they become comedians such as Jim Carrey. Do we really need a system that takes our Jim Carrey's and forces them to cross north into Canada? How many comedians can America (actually America is a term the peoples of the United States say even though there are several Americas such as North America, Central America, and South America. Mexico is probably in South America because it's south of America where the healthcare is free in the emergency room but expensive without the "free medicaid". So that's why I choose to be an American. Because no matter how far north I can drive or travel by foot, or how far south I journey, I am still an American. Even on horseback. True story, my great-grandmother died because my great-grandfather (who happened to be an American from the central tribe) dragged her behind his horse because the burritos were cold. This was way before the health care debate and I think she would have been happy with any kind of emergency room after that dragging. Pesos or quids or euros would have flowed freely if only she had the resources. He was a vile, mean man and never could add 6 times 7. That's probably why he had no answers. He was a hungry man by nature but I digress... So healthcare is important. But so isn't being an american. So that's why I have created this blog. I am an american and I have papers and everything. Never will the human spirit be quenched with the joys of rhetoric. It takes pure facts to quench that joy. I am Rueuhy and this is my blog.  If you would like to contact me my email is rueuhy@gmail.com