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Ron Obvious

Profile Information

Gender: Male
Current location: Seattle
Member since: Tue Dec 13, 2011, 10:37 PM
Number of posts: 2,734

About Me

I got the nickname Ron Obvious because -- in addition to being a huge Python fan -- my name really is Ron and I used to start sentences with \"Obviously\" a lot. Obviously, that\'s no longer a problem.

Journal Archives

My appliances are talking to me again

By which I mean that I hear "things" in white noise sounds.

No, I'm not off my meds again -- I've had this happen most of my life on and off. It's probably fairly common, no stranger than seeing faces in clouds. I'm going through a strong phase of it now, though, and it's distracting.

Usually it's singing. Last night I kept hearing some sort of doo-wop singing with the AC on. It's very repetitive and it's just beyond my ability to quite make it out.

Just now, while (electrically) shaving, I heard some sort of ethnic chanting "hey-owie-hey-o-ayie-oweo". Over and over again.

I hear something like Viennese Waltz music in my white noise generator. I wish I could write it down, it's pretty good, though, again, repetitive.

Anyone else "suffer" from this? Know any tricks to make it stop?

Don't worry, If my blender starts suggesting homicide, I'll see someone about it.

A strange encounter with a believer.

This happened many years ago, but for some reason I started thinking about it again recently.

I was living in a large apartment complex and went out early one Sunday morning to collect a week's worth of mail from the mailbox. The communal mailbox area was deserted except for a young hispanic woman I'd never seen before. She seemed agitated. She had her eyes shut tight, was clutching her cross necklace, and she was praying over and over again. It was in Spanish and nearly inaudible, but I think I caught the name "Jesus" a few times.

I walk pretty quietly and she never heard me coming until I was just a few feet from her.

She gasped and opened her eyes in wide amazement. I thought I'd frightened her and wanted to apologise, but she spoke first:

"Are you the archangel Gabriel?", she asked in a thin voice.

Now, as I said before, this was long ago and I was considerably younger and better-looking than I am now, but this was nevertheless a real WTF moment that left me rather gobsmacked.

"Uhm, no", I managed.

"But are you religious?", she demanded.

"I'm afraid not. I don't think I really believe in God", I said, considerably milder than I would ordinarily have answered that question.

"Oh, I believe in God. But he don't believe in me", she said. And she looked so sad, lost, and frightened.

I felt awkward and didn't know what to say. I waited for a bit to see if she wanted to say more, but she didn't. We exchanged some trivial remarks for a minute or two.

"Well, gotta go", I said.

She looked at me desperately, and said "You really are the archangel Gabriel, aren't you?"

I looked her straight in the eye and said "Yes, child, I am."

She let out another gasp and then all the tension seemed to drain out of her body and and she looked visibly relieved as I turned and walked away.

Back in my apartment I felt absolutely awful. Why had I said that? I never even thought before my reply. Was it just an impulsive act of kindness? Or was it a real dick thing to do to a desperate, possibly mentally-ill woman? Why had I not simply asked her what was wrong and asked her if she needed help? Probably because the whole situation was so awkward and uncomfortable. I certainly wasn't mocking her in any way.

I went out there again about half an hour later.

She was gone. I never saw her again.

This is a true story, but I never told it to anyone. Too ashamed, I suppose. Sometimes I think I told her what she really wanted and needed to hear and maybe it helped. Other times I think behaved horribly.

Religious people, answer me honestly: was that a terrible thing to do? I'm not looking to salve my conscience or looking for validation. It was a long time ago, so don't spare my feelings.

Also, what is the significance of the archangel Gabriel in (presumably) Catholicism? Is it a clue to her state of mind? Is he often portrayed as a scruffy lout in a Hawaiian shirt?

Things I don't get / like

Reality TV
Las Vegas
Justin Bieber
Windows 8
Hyperforeignisms like rolling every R and trying to pronounce foreign placenames the way the natives say them, but yet not daring to pronounce the capital of France Paree for fear of coming off pretentious
Hyper-puffed up lips injected with collagen
The franchise model of US professional sports
Harry Potter
TV shows/movies in which tiny 5 foot nothing girls savagely beat the crap out of big muscled hard men
Boutiques with twee names like Ye Olde Countrie Gifte Shoppe
Short-track speedskating
Boutiques with playful but wrong foreign-sounding names like Das Gifthaus which really means The Poison House
White Bread
Porsches with automatic transmission
Cars with small 4 cylinder engines with automatic transmissions
Truck Nutz
Child Beauty Contests
American Idol
Toddlers on tricycles wearing kneepads, elbowpads and huge helmets
Vaginas with teeth. 'Nuff said.
Right turn green arrows for cars simultaneous with green lights for pedestrians going straight
25 mph speed limits on roads wide and straight enough to land a 747 on
Boring safety-first playground equipment that no self-respecting child would use like that stupid chicken on a spring.
Pedestrian underpasses that smell of piss.
Star Wars
Star Trek
People in sleeping bag queues in front of Apple stores overnight
Synchronised Swimming
Using the letter u for the pronoun 'you', or even worse, u r for 'you are'.
Excessive facial piercings that make it look as though I could tear your ear or nose off like a perforated postage stamp
Boombox Cars
Marketing Speak,
Knock knock jokes
Rap Music
Gomer Pyle
The first one to say "suPRIZE suPRIZE suPRIZE" gets it right in the kisser.
Video Game Consoles
Country Music
Overbred, yipy little dogs that do nothing but tremble and shit all day
The word "traveling" when spelled with a single L so that it looks like it should be pronounced traVEALing.
When did that happen? My old books still say "traveller" or "travelling" with two L's. It happened when I wasn't looking.
Raw carrots served as though they were an acceptable form of snackfood,
What am I, the village idiot munching on a raw carrot?
Adam Sandler
The Simpsons
People who actually
say LOL in real life

This is, of course, not an exhaustive list and doesn't include the things we all hate around here (e.g. Republicans, sexism etc.), but I'm throwing it out in order to find like-minded people so that we can form a movement so that these things may be suppressed.

Feel free to add to this list, but should you add something I do like or if you disagree with any of the above, I will, of course, hate you forever and you can't be part of my movement.

The meanest dog I've ever known was a bug-eyed Chihuahua with a Napoleon Complex called Fuzzy.

It belonged to a friend of mine I used to visit. He (the dog, not my friend) would spend most of his days engaging in his favourite hobbies of eating, trembling and shitting, but every so often he would take offence at something I said, stop in mid-tremble and cast a jaundiced eye at me. He would then launch himself with a flying leap at my midriff, where he would try to bite me in the bollocks, attacking them in that head-shaking fashion you might have seen other dogs do when ripping a pillow apart, growling all the time.

My friend would think this was just hilarious. He (my friend, not the dog) and I eventually fell out over political differences.

I bought an electric guitar. I can't play a note.

I bought an electric guitar. On impulse. At Costco. I can't play. What on earth possessed me?

I suppose I could try to learn how to play the damn thing, but my track record in this area is not stellar. My musical education began and ended in primary school, with my biggest success being a tinny performance of Frre Jacques on the xylophone on parents' night, which was met with polite, if muted, applause. At least I think I struck the majority of the notes nearly correctly that night. A nasal-sounding rendition of Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star failed to achieve a passing grade later that year and my version of Fr Elise is still spoken of in hushed tones when elderly retired educators foregather to swap stories over a pint.

I tried choir, but was thrown out when the teacher figured out where the noise was coming from. I wasn't interested enough to learn the lyrics of songs either. Well, of clean ones at least.

My parents attempted to engage a music teacher privately, but we didn't really hit it off. The man simply had an odd prejudice against lazy, untalented smartarses, and he gave up quickly trying to teach me the piano. He thought that rhythm might be more my thing and suggested the drums, possibly as a form of revenge against my parents for inflicting me on him. That ended when my first drum solo was likened to the sound of a painful bowel movement. As an aside, fuck you, Mr. Holzheimer. Shame on you for humiliating a 10 year-old to get a cheap laugh out of the other kids. Bastard.

I've got to face it, I'm never going to learn how to play and this impulse purchase is just a vainglorious attempt at recapturing lost youthful dreams. I've become a sad, pathetic, middle-aged bastard whose dreams are now behind him. Buying this guitar confirms it.

What is your robot name?

To generate it, simply combine your initials with your full social security number, followed by a hyphen and and any bank account numbers you may have.

I'd share my own, but I'm more interested in yours.

Also, how about your WWF fighter name?

Simply combine the town of your birth, followed by the name of your first pet in quotes and your mother's maiden name. For example, Philadelphia "Fido" McNabb.

Hahaha, what fun these innocent little games are.

Oh, and finally, list all your login passwords. I've got 7 of 'em! Can you beat that? Be sure to show them with their url's to make sure you don't duplicate!

How are you fellow atheist arseholes this morning?

I evict orphans and widows for a living so my job's been giving me great satisfaction these past few years. Since the weather's been so nice lately, I've been able to walk to work and indulging in my special hobby of pushing wee bonny children who are playing outside face-first into the mud. It's the small pleasures that are so special, aren't they?

This morning I had the opportunity to beat up a damn hobo who had the nerve to ask me for money. Bloody scrounger! I very much enjoyed his screams of pain.

Isn't it great living without morality? It's gong to be a fine day today. Maybe I'll encounter some small animals to torture on my way home. One can but hope!

I came home from a weekend getaway today to find the house a mess...

There was garbage everywhere, including empty pizza boxes & beer bottles. The carpets were stained something terrible, one of the bookcases had fallen over and there were books all over the place. My computer chair was broken, sagging and bent at a strange angle, and the carpets were all askew or ripped in places. In the bedroom, the drawers from the chest of drawers were all pulled out, and clothes were strewn everywhere. There too, the carpet looked like some drunk had vomited on it multiple times. All the paintings hung crooked on the wall.

I was pleased that everything was as I had left it. It's good to be home again.

Why do they even bother with player interviews anymore?

These guys all had media training and they haven't said anything interesting in years. When they lose, they're confident things will get better, and when they win, they're confident things will continue to go well. They're up for the challenge, and apparently they like scoring goals and prefer winning over losing.

Wow, who'd have thought?

And have you noticed interviewers feed them the answer in the questions now?

"How happy were you when you scored that winning goal today?".
"Oh, I was very happy scoring that winning goal today. It was great".

"How sad were you when you lost last week?"
"I was very sad. I don't like losing."

"How confident are the lads that the side will stay up/win the title/get promoted/whatever?"
"The lads are all very confident that the side will stay up/win the title/get promoted/whatever".

"You really are a bland, boring git, aren't you?"
"Yes, I really am a bland, boring git and... Eh?"

The dubbed interviews with foreign players are no better.

You hear a stream of excitable Spanish or Italian which sounds like they're saying a lot, and then the dubbing starts:

"I... Like... Scoring... Goals... That's... What... I... Like... Because.. It... Is... Very... Nice..."

Player interviews are only interesting if they're honest. I'd love it if a player went off-script for once, and starts calling the manager an incompetent bastard, and explains how they don't have a hope in Hell of staying up with that idiot in charge.

But those bland, media-savy professionals will make sure that won't happen of course.

Are Dove icecream bars getting smaller every year?

I just opened a box for the first time in a year, and something the size of a lollypop fell out.

I have a feeling this has been going on for years, because this not the first time I've noticed this. I do know this has been happening to other items long enough for Mad magazine to joke about it back in the '70s already, but these Dove bars seem to have lost half their size.

Or is it me?

Edited for typo in the subject line.
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