TMD: Vengeance

Sometimes I wish I had a rocket launcher attached to the hood of my car. Or perhaps a couple 44mm assault rifles sticking out of the sides of my car. Or even an EMP projector of some sort. Why would I wish for such things? Because there are way too many under-qualified "drivers" out on the road. People that suck at driving. People that cause traffic. People that cause accidents. People that cause dangerous situations on the road.

Is it safer to go 20 miles over the speed limit or 20 miles under the speed limit? Let's weigh the situation. You're going 20 miles over the speed limit. If you are on a freeway and you crash, you are essentially dead. Now, if you are going under 20 miles the speed limit on the freeway, your chances of death are much lower. With that being said, imagine the traffic you are causing by going under 20! Cars will be tailing you, people will be getting angry, people will be changing lanes to pass you, you will cause road rage, you will be affecting people merging onto and off the freeway. I have bolded the things that cause traffic accidents above.

In essence, the only way you can crash by going 85 mph on the freeway is if YOU are an idiot and you misjudge the distance from your car to the car in front of you and you break too late and rear end someone. By going 85 mph, you are doing a couple of good things. 1. You are passing people. This lets people know where you are so even if they were about to change lanes, you will only be in their blind spots for the duration of the time you are passing them, which is roughly 3 seconds. If you were pacing someone at speed limit and you were stuck at their blind spot, then that increases the chances of you getting into an accident. 2. You are passing everyone. You leave behind the groups of cars. Less cars = less chance of an accident. You don't get into an accident with another car when there's no cars around you.

But if you're going 45 mph on the freeway, you are putting others in danger. You will cause traffic which will make it more difficult for cars to merge onto the freeway behind you, or merge out of the freeway. Lane changes will be more dangerous because one lane is going significantly faster than the other while both lanes are congested. People will be getting angry at your slow driving, and their judgment and behavior will negatively affect their driving.

With that being said, I would like to have those weapons on my car so that I could destroy the bad drivers. Not kill them. But damage their cars enough so that they don't drive. You think that's unfair. You think that I'm being selfish. You think that I'm too violent. Those people need to work, they need to get to places as much as we all do, you say.

Well I have news flash for you.

Public transportation. Helps the economy. Less pollution. More exercise.

America should thank me.

GTM

Great Teacher Mike

Could be possibly be the direction I want to take for my career choice.

Or perhaps Great Tully's Mike, as I am pondering on tackling the Tully's Coffee Shop inside UC Berkeley.

Oh the headache.

TMD: Racism

I'm not a racist. Or so I'd like to believe. But there are situations that would prove otherwise.

My good friend had noticed that when I talk to my employees who are of Mexican descend, I have a tendency of over-simplifying my language. I "baby talk." Goo-goo ga-ga. For example, when I'm saying "it's okay," it comes out to sound like "ich okey." Or when I'm trying to say "and you need to cut the tomatoes and place then in a neat, linear pattern in the container," I say something along the lines of "and yoo cut tomayto and poot nice straigh' insigh', oki?"

Now my question is: is that being racist? I mean, clearly it's a given that their English isn't as developed as mine. In essence, simplifying my English to a standard where they could understand is just an act of thoughtfulness no? Don't get me wrong, I love the Mexicans. They brought their concepts burritos and tacos, and I love burritos and tacos. What more could I ask for?

But the amusing thing is, I noticed myself acting the same way towards a customer. A Kenyan to be exact. Actually, I'm not sure if he was a Kenyan, but he was pretty dang dark. And only Kenyans and South Africans are that dark, but South Africans have an exclamation mark in their names so he had to be Kenyan by the process of elimination. His name was Masuli, not !Dobile.

Anyways, he had a very heavy Kenyan accent, and as he gave me his cash he asked me if he could get the bottle drink instead of a 21 ounce cup with the combo. It sounded like this: (in a heavy, deep, Kenyan-like voice) "Can I bottle no cup?" A normal white man would not be able to understand this. But since I've been around fobs of all countries: Koreans, Mexicans, Japanese, Kenyans, Hillbillies, I understood immediately. And so I responded like this: "No, esstra char' feety sen mo" (No, extra charge fifty cents more). He nodded and said, "ok."

At this point, I couldn't help but crack a smile. I had just realized how utterly stupid I must have sounded. I wonder if he would have understood had I used proper English? It's definitely something worth observation. A great hypothesis to experiment upon.

So in conclusion, I am not a racist. I just care too much about proper communication.

TMD: Two-Faced Customers

Woohoo! TMD! But wait... it's a Friday? Shouldn't it be FMD? Nay. FMD doesn't sound cool.

Here's an interesting observation: There are customers who while ordering their sandwiches look like this <- They are cheerful and friendly. They smile at every extra olive that is perfectly placed on the sandwich. They wink and nod ferociously when my employees ask them if they want more vegetables on their sandwich. They speak so loquaciously to my employees about the strangest, most random things, even when all my employees do is nod their heads. You think my employees are listening to them? They don't even understand English! But all is well in the worlds of the customers who are getting what they want in their custom built sandwiches. Or at least, until they get to the cash register.


As sudden as lightning, their faces immediately change once I (the cashier) engage eye contact. The become sullen, downcast. Their once loquaciousness disappears into thin air and they become mutes. I ask if they want anything else besides their sandwich and they respond with a silence as they stare down onto the counter. Why? Is it that horrible to pay? Wasn't the "buying" part of "buying a sandwich" included in their plan to come to Subway? Do they think they will receive a free sandwich if they act disappointed? I don't understand.
Same situation with taxes. Why are people surprised that sandwiches are taxed? EVERYthing is taxed in California. You live here, you should know this by now! And why do customers blame US for charging tax? A little heads up: WE DO NOT CHARGE TAX. THE GOVERNMENT DOES. WE DO NOT KEEP YOUR TAX MONEY, THE GOVERNMENT DOES. So don't complain to us, complain to the government. Oh but who voted in the government officials that mandated the tax laws? YOU. So slap yourself across the face and get out of my store! (is what I would love to say to them... unfortunately I cannot). Then there are customers whom I ask if they want their receipts and they say "YES OF COURSE YOU DU******." (That just happened 5 minutes ago). I'm sorry? Forgot to take Psychic 101 in college. Couldn't read your mind, there was nothing in there to read.

On a happier note, I finally get to play basketball today. I finally get to
in my brand new Jordan 2010's. Oh yes. Absolutely cannot wait.

Balls (pronounced: bawls)

Built FORD Tough. I present you the 2010 Hennessey Ford F-150 SVT Raptor VelociRaptor 500. With a 5.4 liter v-8 engine, producing massive quantities of power, 501 horsepower at 5100 rpm, and 520 lbs of torque at 3200 rpm, this monster can go zero to sixty in 5.6 seconds and a quarter mile in 14.1 seconds at 97 miles per hour! Unbelievable. Those speeds rival mid-level sports coupes. That is exactly why I propose that Ford changes its logo from Built FORD Tough to Built FORD Gay. Yeah, you heard me Ford.

My initial reaction to reading these numbers was this.
Yes. I googled the "purpose of trucks" since I knew google has all the answers in the world. Unfortunately google did not supply the "purpose of trucks". Instead, they gave me endless links to truck for sale, truck-king, truck tires, trucker hats, truck drivers wanted, trunks, tree trunks, dual purpose hand trucks, purpose wrecker sales, etc. Therefore, in my infinite wisdom and knowledge, I decided to define the purpose of trucks myself.

The truck is constructed of three parts: the cabin, the flatbed, and the engine/drive-train/wheels/etc. Lets begin with the flatbed. The purpose of the flatbed is to carry loads of whatever material that the truck driver (who will be seated in the cabin) needs. The cabin exists to keep the truck driver safe during collisions and sheltered during stormy weather. It also allows the driver to keep their possessions in a safer, less open place than the bed. The engine/drive-train/wheels/etc. exists so that the truck can be mobile. Because let's be honest, nobody wants a truck that does not move.

The purpose of the a truck is to carry loads. Being able to hit 0-60 in 5.4 seconds is completely useless. My load fly out of my truck with that kind of speed and power. No. Ford, I'll show you a REAL truck.


Now THAT is a truck!

TMD: The Onion Theory

Onions make you cry. Even though they are abundant in nutrients and vitamins that are good for your body, they make you cry. They give off a pungent odor. They irritate your eyes. Their taste is not that pleasing. They look kind of funny.

But in the end, they are good for you. They help lower blood pressure and cholesterol. And other things that I am unaware of.

Today, as I was tearing up in pain caused by my employee chopping onions nearby, I was reminded of Jesus. He makes me cry. He challenges me to change my lifestyle for His kingdom. His guidance is often harsh and unpleasant. But in the end, He is doing these things to benefit me. To give me nutrients. To lower my blood pressure.

Food that is good for you usually tastes bad, and habits that hard good for you are difficult to keep. People that are good for you usually challenge you and push you. The God that is good to me is hard on me and asks for all of me. But in return, He blesses me more than I could ever imagine.

For every hardship endured, there is growth. For every growth, there is maturity earned. And when maturity is completed, then perfection waits with a beautiful prize to bestow upon a life well done. Amen to that.