The Crab of Crabs

Crab vs. Onion

2007-08-15T06:19:00.000+09:00

Welcome to the knuckledraggin' hour bitches

Seriously, what's with the dumb act? It's like, "Man, I don't know about that shit, dawg!" And I'm supposed to go "Wow, how cool you must be!"

Look. We know.

We know that you geek out to shit, dudes (and dudettes, too). You can sit back there and be all like, "Well, gee, Mr. Crab, I certainly wouldn't know anything about videogames or whatever--I'm an adult now."

Gimme a fuckin' break. There's SOMETHING your ass will hear and you'll be all like "OMG really?--they remade that into a new movie?? Holy shit I'm a go see that right nawwwwww" (runs home and stares at "old school" toys).

Dude, but you're all like, "Hey, wait--it's 'cool' now to be like a totally bland, uneducated philistine these days!" Seriously, when I say something about some other language I speak, how come everyone's all "well, la-dee-dah, look at me!--I'm the Greatest Crab and I'm a fucking jackass traitor who hates this country because I flaunt my intelligence!" Dude, I don't flaunt anything, but the fact that you're all defensive and venemous about it really makes me think you've got some deep-seated mental problems, that's all.

Women, you guys totally are the culprit here. I remember my whole life I would start to notice one of you and think "Wow, a girl who has a lot of interests and is well-read and with whom I can have a pretty cool conversation...huh, that's pretty neat."

Then you'd get around some guy you like.

Oh well, instant let-down. It's like, "Ah, I've been disappointed again--what a shocker." Suddenly, there's like zero IQ in the entire room. Just like "I dunno; I never read anything!! I'm so stupid, ha ha haaaah!"

Well, tho', I guess there's always the other side.

Hey, look...I'm not gonna pretend like I don't go and get all kinds of pretention on. I'll turn on the big word thesaurus and rock you like a friggin nerdicane, but I also gotta admit that there's some fucking annoying dumbasses out there who feel like they gotta be the smartest in the room or like everyone will start laughing at them.

Like, whenever I talk about something and start ranting and a-raving, some of you knuckleheads are always like, "Well, let me just point out that you mentioned a chicken-eating spider earlier, and I'd just like to point out that it's technically a pamphobeteus, and you simply referred to it as a spider. I mean, I guess you could do that and all, but it's just not proper and you should really watch that as you can create a lot of confusion." or "Well, you Romanized the Japanese word 'karaage' with an 'r.' I would have used a 'd' because it's a flap technically and I wouldn't want to confuse anyone."

It's like, "oh damn, he showed ME up!! Damn, I bet people are laughing at me like crazy at that message board. Oh wait...wait...awww, I guess nobody cared, AWWWW." Mr. Smarmy Comment. That guy's always standing around when you're just goofing off and joking around with someone, waiting to "tsk" and roll his eyes.

Look, bitch, I've probably read like 3 times as much as you have. Sure, you're an English major, but you only read the shit they assign to you in your class. Then, the rest of your time, you just hang around and "tsk" your ass so much everyone just assumes you're a homosexual--whether you are or not!! (Just like in the Seinfeld episode: "Not that there's anything wrong with that.")

So, here I am, joining the fray, generating my own pretentious nonsense with this stupid blog. I'm a self-righteous little blogster, as much as I never intended to join your ranks, getting up on your rooftops and crowing at the sun for nobody to hear but your own dumb ears. But, what kind of person doesn't find their own convictions, or things to believe in, and decide to go and spout them out at the world? Thes brains we have rage forward on their neverending quests to drive us crazy and make us all argue and have our values and ideas just clunk against each other clumsily.

And I've seen myself at both moments, the too-humble, self-deprecating, annoying let-down to those who believed in him or wanted to see great things happen with his brilliant mind, and the self-important, overconfident windbag, perched annoyingly at the edges to snatch up the fallen and use them for personal gain. I want to go back to those moments and crush those smug, chuckling, sneering faces I wore.

Stop yer knuckledraggin', you young'uns. Knowledge is important. It really is our way to gain power over this world...just these insane brains trying so hard to comprehend, name, and categorize everything--even if it can't be known or understood on any level. But they do that because it's what makes us able to survive when others fail. It's a very valuable thing--the most valuable thing we take for ourselves, and there's absolutely nothing wrong with anyone seeing that brilliant side of you.

Well, unless you're Columbo, and you're luring the murderer into a false sense of security (Columbo Pro Tip: Look for the famous guest star--that's the murderer).

As for the sneering, snorting, eye-rolling, foppish, pretentious maccheroni, you guys who think you're "all that" because some professor was impressed with one of your essays where you just spouted back his boring interpretations? Nobody is impressed by your ass. When you go home and look yourself in the mirror and it's all quiet and there's no-one around and that little voice says that you're lonely and nobody really cares, nobody really cares. And it's not that it's lonely at the top, homeslice, it's that you didn't learn what you needed to learn in school. It's not about impressing people with your pathetic grasp of some vague theories floating around (that aren't even yours to begin with), it's about finding your own message to spout out, whether it was in blogs, in comic books, in song--even just in leadership of those beneath you in a company, or whatever.

Genius isn't in knowing about geniuses; it's in finding something to say and saying it.

"Hi. I'm the Sumo Association. I'm a Fucking Idiot."

2007-08-04T01:48:00.000+09:00

Sports are fucking ridiculous.

Why isn't it just "this team beat that team" or "this guy did some great thing against this other guy?" Instead, it's like "OMG! That guy's using steroids and that guy's getting fined for talking about officials!!"

Stupid fucking celebrity gossip bullshit permeates just everything in these "World's Marketplace" countries. Everything's a marketing gimmick--fucking sensationalised nonsense about people we don't know, and, like Paris Hilton or Lindsay Lohan, haven't even done anything worth wasting 20 seconds of your life one. But, we're supposed to be just frothing at the mouth in personal agony over these ridiculously minor people's pathetic scandals, because marketing moguls have to practice spinning everything around to get our fucking attention all the damned tim. That's what it's like in the U.S., anyway.

Or Japan. Japan's absurdly obsessed with buying stuff, too--and that means that they're also obsessed with other bandwagons such as stupid phrases uttered by some minor celeb, or which insanely stupid, young floozy is the idol-of-the-minute.

Their sports are the same way, too.

Well, kinda. For those who don't know, I'm a sumo fan. It's not just an interesting sport (although inherently flawed because all the action happens in a split second and is just a "win-lose" system), but it's also basically a celebration of shugendou-based religious, cultural ceremony.

Unfortunately, that also means it's something essential to the "Japanese spirit" or whatever, and, even more unfortunate than that, it seems like the only way for the Sumo Association to drum up interest in its sport is to pull at those heartstrings.

There's a special rank in this sport called yokozuna, which literally means 'wearing the rope.' In Shinto rites, ornamented, ceremonial ropes are used as boundaries and sacrelatizing agents. Thus, to one of the highest-ranked sumo wrestlers, called oozeki, this ornament was given so that they might take parts in sacred rites such as shrine blessings.

It's really interesting stuff (to me, at least), and I could just talk about it for hours and hours, but the point is that recently there have been a bunch of foreigners attaining this special honor, and that's made John Q. Public--um, Yousuke Q. Public?--kinda unhappy.

Recently, one of these guys, a Mongolian whose ring name is Asashouryuu, has stepped on the tiger's tail, attracting the Sumo Association's ire and virulent hatred. Of course, that's because their attendance has been disappointing them for years and years now, and they need to shamelessly flail around like spoiled babes to get the public's attention.

What did he do this time, the villain? He was hurt (you do get hurt in sports, you know), and use that as an excuse to sit out some of the official, public practices and exhibitions and what-nots. Meanwhile, whist recuperating in his homeland, he made a public appearance to support some school over there, frolicking with said schoolchildren.

Wow! What an asshole, right?? (or, just, like a normal celbrity, who makes his money from appearances??)

So, the Sumo Association decided that he was malingering, basically, and gives him a drastic salary cut. They also force him to sit out the rest of the years' tournaments. Oh, did I forget to mention that he wins almost ever tournament these days?

All this, while their beautiful, beloved "Great Japanese Hope," Takanohana, sat out for 2 years' worth of tournaments without one bad word from these jerks. I guess it's OK if you're a whiny, wishy-washy star the people are supposed to love. If you're supposed to be the villain? Forget it.

You know what I'd do if I was Asashouryuu? I'd be their villain, all right. I'd come back, trained twice as hard, and I wouldn't just beat their gallery of Japanese losers, I'd beat them. I'd go into training sessions and break their friggin' arms and fling them around like trash, hoping to twist their ankles and blow their damned knees right out. Fuck 'em. I'd brutalise that business.

It's not like they don't already fear him, nor are they seemingly unable to even pose a threat to him. Fuck them. I hope their stupid attendance plummets and they have to stop sensationalising this thing which isn't just supposed to be a sport or art form, but supposed to be profound and religious and natural.

Tumbling Hunks of Metal Does Not A Great Movie Make

2007-08-02T07:15:00.001+09:00

"Oh, my God--it was the best movie!! You have to see it!!"

Now, I've heard this many a time in my life. Usually, it's just from those poor few folks who, tho' nice they may be, have apparently no interests, so they aren't really exposed to too much and fly off the handle at the first glimmer of something interesting. These rants can be dismissed right off, and just nodded at while smiling like you're just some marketing stooge at a trade show or the modern teacher, who is forced to treat every opinion as "interesting" regardless of its merit.

No; this is one of those times when evryone across the board is blathering at me about the idol-of-the-month. Everyone told me this would be the best thing ever, save one friend out here, who just gave a half-hearted "it was good."

While it sounds like that's a good sign...it ain't necessarily so, bitches.

Let me just go ahead and ruin all of my internet "street cred":

Transformers sucks.

Yes, I'm referring to this current movie. I'm also referring to the old movie, and the show, and even the toys--tho' I did own them when I was just a wee little lad and becoming the greatest crab ever was just a sparkle in my fuckin retarded little kid eye.

Anyway, yes. That movie sucked. At first, they were all like running around, a buncha different groups of guys, going "what the fuck is up?" That was cool--cut-off little army squad and hackers and all sorts of cool shit sitting around, all using their ridiculous technobabble jargon like "set up a kill box!" and "we'll use fuckin' plasma 100 66 ballistic rounds," or whatever.

That was fine.

Then, suddenly, we return to that boring Dawson's Creek reject crew and down comes Optimus Prime. It was like: here's a normal movie--BAM! Jazz is breakdancing, robots are hiding from Ma and Pa Kettle, urinating dogs.... And it didn't help that, all the while, the lamest dialogue on earth about things with embarrassingly-bad names keeps assaulting my poor ears.

You know what else? The action sucked, too.

I can hear you all hissing now, with your flame-writing fingers all poised and ready to strike. The truth is, the action in this movie was as lame and boring as the action in Batman Begins.

There we go--flame away!

Here's a tip to the Hollywood machine: your action SUCKS. Getting in really close with a camera and making stuff fly around while there are sound effects of supposed action offscreen is not a good fight scene. It's like the directers and writers all get confused whenever it comes to the fight choreography. It's like they suddenly say, "yeah, OK, so...like, Megatron's all, 'let's go, Prime!' and he's all, 'yeah,' and then...I dunno, something happens, and then, like, Megatron's all, like, 'I won!'"

Then, people suddenly realise that fight choreography actually is hard. You want to see for yourself? Watch 武館　(Mou Kun / Martial Club), which you've probably never heard of, by Lau Ga Leung's crew for Shaw Brothers in the early 80s. That film rocks my socks. It may just look like anyone could do that at the greatest of ease and just start punching at each other and going, "huh, I guess this is Kung Fu!" But, it's not. That choreography is pretty intense and filmed very well--unlike Transformers's fights, which mainly just involved junk flying around and flipping from far away in the background into the foreground over and over.

"But it was so cool! Stuff...turned into...stuff!"

Fuck that. Hey, watch this!--I can turn my desk into a footrest! Look at this! I'm transforming some of the ketchup that dripped off my burger into a dipping sauce for my fries! Fucking, wow! I'm gonna go turn my floor into a bed and my jacket into a pillow.

Ah, Me!--'Tis the Hour for Mine Sitting Down and Uttering Many A "Fuck," Methinks

2007-07-26T06:48:00.000+09:00

Fuck.

This is absolute bullshit.

Have you guys ever had a problem with some huge company's service, such as Yahoo!? I have.

Let me tell you, it's no picnic. There's probably three people in their employ for customer service, and those three people are probably just struggling to make ends meet and actually have no idea about the code--or probably don't even have any idea how to do anything with these services other than the simple tasks neatly spelled out for them on notecards that any monkey can do.

Actually, I was loathe to make such a comment, and I've been holding out for a very long time. Why's that? Because I know that if a business-degree-toting, practical-experience-lacking, self-obsessed Yahoo! corporate staffer (who is, no doubt, just steeped in a "can-do," "look-out-for-number-one!" attitude) ever takes a gander at this post, his or her first inclination will be to fire one of the said three people.

Why's that, you ask? Every publicly-owned corporation in this country has a wonderful motto these days: "Your number-one controllable expense is payroll." For some reason, people who have never had experience on a "rubber-meeting-pavement" sense (such as in a retail store or customer service line--at the level where they actually deal with the marketplace face-to-face) have just decided that the best thing to do for ay company is to gut it.

When I was in retail management, our store was one of the best in the chain.

Aha!! There it is! I can hear you groaning already, fatcats. Do you see what you're doing? You were reading this up to the point where I mentioned that I actually worked at a store, and then, you said, "Ahhh, here it comes--he has no idea what he's talking about! He can't possibly understand! All he ever did was run a store; he couldn't possibly have any idea what it is to run a BUSINESS, like I do, with my fancy University of Phoenix diploma. He obviously lacks drive or motivation if he ever deemed it a worthwhile endeavor to actually enter those filthy ranks of lowly 'commoner' workerbees, so he's obviously neither a mover nor a shaker, like I am."

The fact remains that when I was running one of the highest-selling stores (and yes, that was "comp" sales)--and one of the only stores in the area to even be making money, period--no-one got bonuses. We lost staff left and right. They had us pared down to such a skeleton crew that two days before Christmas, I was closing the store alone with only one cashier--and I'm talking a two-story unit with hundreds of customers (oh, I'm sorry, "guests"--you sure fooled a lot of people with that wordplay, by the way) that was reeling in over $70K that night.

And why? Because "your number-one controllable expense is always payroll." Why are we unable to ever even write a simple e-mail to a company whose product isn't working? Because their number-one controllabel expense was payroll.

The truth is that you CAN control your payroll. You could save hundreds of thousands of dollars by simply firing everyone below you. But then, what would happen when people wanted to buy your products or enlist your services? Well, nothing; there just wouldn't be any orders processed.

But that's alright for an MBA. All they have to do is jump off the ship while the stock is still at a reasonable price, right?

Fuckin bitches.

Anyway, enough whining about vague corporate entities (read: motherfuckers). Let's just talk about my personal experiences these past few days with Ms. Bitch-Cunt or whatever her fucking name is, my boss (kinda).

This fucking insane lunatic calls me up every fucking day and just excretes these words all over my poor brain that are like this horrible soup of nothingness, with neither shape nor form nor apparent reason. I'd really rather not go into the particulars, because I don't want to be sued, since that's the knee-jerk reaction of cuntfucks like that in this country, but let's just say I run a tiny warehouse and she suddenly wanted to send me so much stuff to store here that it would fill our warehouse about three times in its physical girth.

So, she consulted me about it, which is nice and all, considering I'm the sole worker here, and the only one who would know what I was talking about. Even after my careful advice in our phone conversation (which lasted many hours, mind you), I return to work on Monday to find she's elected to place this enormous order anyway.

I call.

"We can't physically fit that much," I say, using "we" for some unknown reason--did I think I was British royalty, or something? "Plus, even if we could fill it to capacity, we couldn't ship because we wouldn't be able to sort it or get to a specific carton when need arose."

I've been saving this up, reader. I've been waiting to tell someone this response. It's really one of the best lines I've heard in a long time.

"That's your problem."

Listen up, corporate-types. I've heard this crap over and over from different bosses, and it goes back to the "no pracitcal experience" shit. When your warehouse manager tells you that the amount of product you'd like stored at a place is, by physical volume, three times the amount you can store in at said place, maybe, then--just maybe--it's three times as fucking much as you can store at that place. I'm not saying "gee, I kinda wanna get less because I like to have a lot of room" or "I don't want to deal with a shipment." I'm saying "this is three times as much as can fit at this place."

Considering I was the only sales rep for this company until our distributor came along, she might want to listen to my input on how much traffic we get, too. We just simply don't get this many fucking orders. I could show her our sales graphs for 36 hours straight, with her fucking dumb ass tied to a chair and while using simple verbage at a deliberately slow pace, and she'd apparently still just say "I'd like to see three times that amount delivered to you today for no reason whatsoever."

All of that nonwithstanding, I have a response to her comment. "It may be my problem first-hand, but then, since you're managing this, it'll become your problem."

Anyway, it will become her problem. How? Well, when the container arrives and the truckers show up at my warehouse and I say, "I refuse this shipment," then it will become her fucking problem. They can store that fucking shit at the freight company's warehouse. I'm sure they'd just love to do that; they wouldn't call her up and or get in a lawsuit between us and them and all that wonderful stuff.

I guess if I knocked down the walls to this little office area, took out our shelves, just literally threw out the old stock items (which would be stealing anyway since I don't own it personally), and then just literally filled every square inch of my warehouse, I could fit most of it. Hell, I dunno; maybe all of it, all airtight and packed so that you'd have to remove hundreds and hundreds of cartons just to get to the back.

Know what I'd do then, tho'? I'd drive right on over to her office, drop the key off, and say, "do whatever you want with 'em; they're all yours."

"But what will I do with them?!"

"That's your problem." ("BITCH!")

Fuck

FUCK FUUUUUCK

There. I said it was time for uttering many a "fuck." I was right!

Masturbating Donkeys vs. 30-Pound-Testicles-Having Guy!!

2007-07-25T05:47:00.000+09:00

or, "Fuckin' I can't enjoy my fucking sandwich lolz Jesus Raptor"

Seriously, I am so tired of "memes."

You wanna know why? Because not only do like fuckin unimaginative people throw up stupid pictures of like the ORLY owl all over the place, but like, then you have to hear a million lame, whiney little bellyaches about how some idiotic internet addict is tired of seeing said ORLY owl pictures all over the place.

To me, that's the greatest meme of all--the "waaaugh, I hate memes!" meme. All your stupid meme-hating bases are belong to you, Mr. Hypocritical-Whiner. Hey, here's a hint: you don't wanna see memes or read silly, maudlin blogs all full of histrionics? Then just stay out of forums and blogs and such, ya friggin' knucklehead!

As some of you may know, I'm too into videogames for my own good. I've noticed a big trend there with this same kind of sour-stomached, bitter little misanthrope: bashing on other folks' videogame prowess. Seriously, it's like, the first ten responses to a simple question about a game on most decently-trafficked gaming boards will be things like "ohh, man!!!!! what the hell dude, you suck!! you can't even do that?!?!?"

Or, "fuck, that question was already answered! stfu noob!!"

I often wonder if shinigami_naruto9999 (sample handle, folks; many apologies to the millions of shinigami_naruto9999's out there in advance before their flood of hate mail ensues) thinks that one day the guys who made Halo or whatever elf-laden MMORPG he plays are going to show up at his door and say, "Alright! You did it! Your knowledge is the greatest and you are win for like a million times--all hail the champion!!" Did this person fantasize about The Last Starfighter being real?

Or are they thinking that one day, Death will beat on their door and challenge them to a game for their immortal soul, and that game will just randomly happen to be their favorite deathmatch-style first-person shooter?

It's the same mentality with all those naysayers out there saying "nay" to memes and leaving weird critiques of other people's blogs. I have a question: What the fuck is the deal with you bitches? Are you like self-loathing morons who will like run home and cry while masturbating furiously, like that motherfucker in The Scarlet Letter who goes and preaches hellfire sermons against the very chick he was having an affair with?

Bellicose cockblockers!

Wait...what the fuck is this blog about? Oh, well. I'm tired.