"Leet" & Text Speak Are For Chumps!

(Update: I recently started watching the show Californication starring Davie Duchovny. The scene featured above seemed very appropriate for this post so I thought I would update it. All I can say is, Amen Brother!!!)

In keeping with today's theme of "netiquette", I thought I would cover something that's bothered me for a long time. I understand in this age of free WiFi, high speed Internet, and instant communication we want to spread news and greetings as quickly as possible. But, unless you're stuck using a normal 10 key cell phone for texting (If you are, GET A NEW PHONE!), there's no need for fancy text and IM lingo.

I'm assuming the people who you are talking to are listening/reading because they want to hear from you. They will be willing to wait that few extra seconds for you to form a full thought in your head and type it out. Learning to type correctly with proper spelling, grammar and punctuation will be an invaluable tool that will help you the rest of your life.

Writing in "leet" speak makes you look like an ignorant douche who watched the Matrix and Hackers too many times while you were waiting for your buddies to show up for your LAN party with that case of Mt. Dew they promised you for hosting this week. Billy's mom got real mad about the Cheetos dust that wouldn't vacuum out of the shag carpet in the basement last weekend.

When you have a full QWERTY keyboard phone or you're instant messaging on your PC, there's no reason to use things like "rofl" or "ttyl". You aren't rolling on the floor laughing and maybe you will talk to me later but take the time to explain that you found something amusing or wish me a fond farewell. Let that person you're talking to know that you care enough to write in proper English. (Or whatever language you speak.) Go ahead and show off that community college education.

Hell, I had to learn to type on a typewriter in high school and perfected touch typing on my Apple IIe. There has to be a free typing tutor site out there on the web these days or you could even pony up a few bucks and pass them on to Mavis Beacon.

(While you're at it, stop typing in all caps and don't forward me your spam emails. Trust I'm not going to read them anyway.)

Rock Tumbling Is For Chumps!

I don’t know what it was, but as child I would practically shit my pants at the site of a shiny, smooth rock. What was it about shiny rocks as a child that compelled me to such heights of “specialness”? I know I’m not alone here. I remember looking through children’s science magazines as an adolescent and there was always an ad for some cheap rock tumbler, allowing me to do-it-myself (ZOMG!).

The climax of such wonder-seizures habitually occurred when I stepped foot in the “Natural Wonders” store at the mall. It was an orgy of rain sticks, gyroscopes, and albums called “Whale Songs.” They even had a type of gumball machine where you could put a quarter in and donate to the rainforest; and do you know what came out? Satisfaction!

Now I see the error of my youthful ways. No more, my friend! I’ll leave the rock tumbling business to the professionals. These forward-thinking entrepreneurs figured out a way to steal three dollars from unsuspecting customers, only to fill that hole with an invaluable knick knack with which they can adorn the inside of their junk drawers. Cheers to you, my capitalist friend, but I’ve moved on to collectible spoons.

Nature Is For Chumps!

(And before I begin, I would like to say that I'm not including animals as part of "Nature". Animals are awesome! Except sharks, they have big teeth, don't blink, haven't evolved in millions of years and have to keep moving so they don't die. Sharks are for chumps!)

So, I just don't get the big deal about nature. I mean, I understand we need to survive and all. The production of water, oxygen, blah blah blah. But what's the big deal about going to see some giant tree in the Redwood Forest or a trip into the Grand Canyon. You go to the forest so you can drive your man made car through the man made tunnel they carved into that tree. Or you take a ridiculous donkey ride to the bottom of the Grand Canyon so you jump into a sweet man made raft and ride the rapids. If I want to see a giant hole in the ground or a big pretty tree I can check it out on the Internet in the air conditioned comfort of my own home.

I've been to the Grand Canyon. It's OK I guess. But it's a giant whole in the ground that was accidentally carved by a river over millions of year. Whoopity doo! On that very same trip I went to check out the Kennecott Copper Mine in Utah. Now that was impressive. Man carved that whole in the ground by moving 17 Million Tons of ore plus all the rock they had to scrape away to get to the copper. It's so big that it's one of the few man made objects that can be seen from space. I guess I'm just much more impressed by things man has grown to accomplish over things in nature.

In the end, I guess it's nice that nature is there helping us to breath and eat and all that good stuff but come on, have you seen the frickin' iPhone. Suck it, Nature!

Flan Is For Chumps!

Oh God, what did I just eat? You told me it was a delicious, Spanish treat; but it tastes like Bill Cosby threw up his Jell-O and some joker poured honey on it. I’ve fallen for this deceit one-too-many times. It’s done, I’m not going to like it and there’s nothing you can do to convince me otherwise. “Yeah, but you’ve never tried our flan.” That’s like saying, “but you’ve never smelled my shit.”

Lifted Trucks Are For Chumps!

What’s going on? I’m blind! I’m on a freeway one minute, next thing you know an apparent flying saucer in the sky shines its high beams in my mirror. Oh, never mind, I forgot I live on planet Earth where men have a constant need to show how “big” they are.

I live in the city, and it looks like you do too. Why do you need a truck that floats six feet above the ground? The least you can do is give me a limbo-challenge, I’m only five-eight. OK, I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt, maybe you do drive off-road with it. Hmm, but your truck sure looks awfully clean and scratch-free. It’s definitely American and I’m sure you park like an asshole. There also seems to be a significant amount of chrome on your “Grave Digger”. Now that I think of it, it doesn’t really make much sense to have all that chrome on a machine built for crushing cars and jumping sick and/or rad ramps.

Well, whatever the case, it must feel pretty cool being the guy who is “too special” to park in normal parking structures. It must be fulfilling to know that you pretty much ruined your chance at ever being able to sell that monster for any upper-walmart-salary amount of cash; but it’s all worth it now that you can climb up the popped collars of your run-of-the-mill douchebags and become “king” of all fuckheads.

Maybe I’m being too mean. I’m sure you don’t particularly enjoy running over children and small dogs, but knowing that you could if you wanted is enough to get you up that ladder and into the captain’s chair every morning. And you can do it in style too—with a lot of chrome.

Then again, maybe it really is a penis thing.

Getting Ready In The Car "On The Way There" Is For Chumps!

Just in case no one ever told you, here are some words of advice that have helped me greatly through my 17 years as a licensed driver:

• Put on your seat belt
• Hands at 10 and 2
• Don't forget to check your mirrors
• Put your FUCKING make-up on before you leave the house
  (I rarely wear make-up, but when I do, trust me, I put it on before I leave the house.)

I will say now that this post is mostly for the Chumpettes (chumpesses?) that I see driving to work in the morning putting on their makeup using the rear view or vanity mirror in the sun visor. I have occasionally seen men putting on their ties or perhaps shaving with an electric razor (which is also just as dangerous and ridiculous) but I would have to say women do this at a ratio of about 437:1.

Ladies, what takes you so long that you can't spend 5 extra minutes before you leave the house to finish putting your makeup on? If you're taking more than 5 minutes to makeup on, you're wearing to much makeup. That extra five minutes will help keep you and everyone else on the road safe. Because, believe you me, not wearing your makeup will look way better than the Joker style grin you'll have scarred across your face after you fly through the windshield because you were more worried about getting your $14 tube of Vegas Volt lipstick on than watching for that red light.

Take it from me Chumpettes, we would much rather see you at work looking a little less put together than usual, than be run off the road by your blind lane changing because you were too busy curling your hair with some battery powered contraption you ordered from the Sky Mall catalog.

Please, just set that alarm 5 minutes earlier and everyone will be happy.

(Hell, screw the alarm, just get to work 5 minutes late. If you're looking that hot the boss will be too busy fantasizing about that mid afternoon rendezvous in the copy room to really care.)

NASA Is For Chumps!

Forgive my nostalgia kick as of late and come with me…to the eighties! I was in elementary school at the time and it was a more innocent era to say the least; a time when watching a guy in a blue jumpsuit float through the air gathered as many oohs and ahhs as seeing your first pair of real boobies.

Gee whiz, those astronauts were so cool! Look, he did a flip! OMG, he’s spinning a banana! Holy crap, he’s drinking little spheres of floating water! FUCK ME, THEIR ICE CREAM COMES IN BAR-FORM! So much excitement for such a young child, “Mrs. Roberts, may I go to the bathroom?”

Of course, looking back on it as an adult, I see how far we’ve failed to come. We’re still using that same junk-heap shuttle to launch us into the atmosphere; NASA has to take a wrench to that thing more than a Harley. The once-vaunted international space station is now a laughing stock due to its rent-control-worthy toilet. Our several attempts to gather data from Mars have come up empty of any tangible evidence of life.

And what has it gotten us? Other than velcro and a pen that writes upside-down (OMG), I can’t think of anything society has truly gained from this wasteful science other than bragging rights over Russia and China. I guess that counts for something.

In any case, the most painful element of this angry outburst has its roots firmly gripped in personal jealousy and lament. What I regret is the fact that, as an adolescent, I was never able to visit the one place where children can truly be happy. This is the single locale where smiles grow on trees and farts smell like rainbows; where pony rides cost a nickel and ice cream is dehydrated—Space Camp.