This is just for Mr.. Jeff Ross. Drop me an e-mail, because I have lost your address. My computer is packed away. I moved out of the little house. Which reminds me, I have a leg from the chair you broke that one time. I was thinking of getting mounted or framed or something just to be a smart ass.

Ok I’m late in wishing Laura a happy birthday. But hell better late than never. The birthday party is today. Now she didn’t even expect for me to show up, because usually I never end up showing for these kinds of gatherings. I’m being yelled at for wanting to play on the computer so I’ll make it short an sweet. Happy Birthday Laura.

So I’m going to let you in on another one of my recent obsessions. This time its the movie Bull Durham. I recently picked up the movie and I have been watching it over and over. There just is something about these Kevin Costner baseball movies that make me wish I could appreciate baseball. As it is I find baseball to be one of the most boring sports around. Watching it is right up there with watching golf. The funny thing is most of my good friends all like baseball.

Both Stanley and Izer love baseball. The both of them are chronic Cubs fans. They go to games and every once in a while they try to get me to go. I thought about it. But decided to pass as soon as I found out beer is cut off around the seventh inning. That’s a problem I am trying to work on.

Here is the infamous speech from Bull Durham:

Well I believe in the soul, the cock, the pussy, the small of a woman’s back, the hanging curve ball, hi-fiber, good scotch, that the novels of Susan Sontag are self indulgent over rated crap.

I believe Lee Harvey Oswald acted alone.

I believe there ought to be a constitutional amendment outlawing astro turf in the designated hitter.

I believe in the sweet spot, softcore pornography, opening your presents Christmas morning rather than Christmas eve.

And I believe in long slow deep soft wet kisses that last three days.

I just love that.

Ok, if either your illiterate or just don’t pay attention to these stupid titles I put before every bit I write, but I am pissed. It’s a work related story. Shock! I have been quite a pussy as of late regarding stuff at work that just really pisses me off. But, this instance happened while I was going in to get my paycheck so I was off the clock. Now the way I figure it I can write anything I want about my time away from work. Also I am willing to chance it. I won’t name names as usual back when I used to bitch and moan about every little thing that got me pissed.

So I go in to get my pitiful paycheck. Stand in line for five minutes or so. I get to the desk of the lady that hands out paychecks and get ready to sign the sheet of paper that indicates I did receive my paycheck and the lady ask me I I had seen Lyle the insurance guy. Lyle by the way is just some insurance guy so other than the fact he sells insurance and I feel that when my revolution comes insurance salesmen and lawyers are first up against the wall, I have nothing against Lyle for trying to make me wait for my paycheck. You notice I said “trying”. So I give the lady who hands out paychecks my “I hate you all” glare and go “Across the street” (her words) to the board room.

So in the board room you got Lyle, some other insurance guy, and five other people waiting to talk to Lyle and his pal. Both Lyle and his buddy had people they were talking with. So I stand and piss and moan under my breathe. But, loud enough the people I was waiting with could hear me. Lyle and his bud must of heard me but being in the insurance biz these guys hear this all the time. My patience didn’t last more than say maybe a minute.

“Which one of you guys is Lyle?’ I ask rather impatiently.

Lyle looks up and he says “I’m Lyle.”

I look at Lyle and with as much venomous hate I can muster I say “This thing here your selling, I’m not interested. I don’t have insurance with you guys and I don’t want insurance with you guys. Ok?” And I gave him a curt smile.

“Ah well.. You still have to sign off on this.” Lyle says. He adds “It will just be a couple of minutes.”

So I think to myself Fuck It. I figured that Lyle and the Paycheck Nazi probably were not in contact with each other. So I go back to the Paycheck Nazi and she asks If I talked to Lyle. I say yes again with venomous hate and sign my name on the paycheck sheet and toss her pen with force on to her desk. She just kind of looks at me with shock that I just tossed her pen like that. So I pick the pen up again and mimic signing the sheet again and gently set the pen down. She gives me my check and I leave bitching and moaning under my breath. I tell the front desk clerk to tell Lyle to leave me the papers he needs me to “sign off” on and that I would get back to him.

So my question to you the reader if anyone knows, what law (if any) did the Paycheck Nazi break by refusing to give me my paycheck? Is there one? This is just for my amusement. This rant is satisfaction enough. That and just reading “Paycheck Nazi” cracks me up.

I saw Kevin and Chris Karstaedt at Applebee’s the other day, and I harassed Karstaedt into going to my website. Karstaedt left this message in the GuestBook:

Hey Turk, the FBI is not going to come after me for checking out your web site, right? This web site is pretty interesting. Maybe that picture of Kevin may find its way on here or not. That preacher needs to get a life. There is nothing more annoying than someone trying to press their religious beliefs on to other people. That guy needs to save himself. Talk to you later.

He added that he didn’t hear about the site from “pw Kevin.” I won’t comment on that seeing how Kevin has dirt on me (kinda).

I spoke of obsessions a few post back and wanted to mention another one. I am obsessed by the movie Beautiful Girls. I can’t put my finger on just what it is about the flick that I’m obsessed with. I just love the movie. Timothy Hutton, Michael Rappaport, and a few others are in it. Hutton is excellent in the movie. Natalie Portman is in it also. Rappaport’s character in it is just one of those guys that I would immediately like. Just a strange guy. The guy he plays is obsessed with supermodels. He does this bit were he explains himself to Hutton’s character. It goes like this:

The super models are beautiful girls.
A beautiful girl could make you dizzy, like you been drinking jack and coke all morning. She can make you feel high.

Full of the single greatest commodity known to man, promise. The promise of a better day, the promise of a greater hope. The promise of a new tomorrow.

This particular ore.. can be found in the gate of a beautiful girl. In her smile, in her soul, and in the way she makes every rotten little thing about life seem like its gonna be ok.

The super model that’s all they are, bottled promise. Scenes from a brand new day. Hope dancing in stiletto heels.

A beautiful girl is all powerful and that is as good as love.

And heck for some reason I just like that the bit.

This has been done a few times that I have seen. The first place I saw it was in an issue of Knights Of The Dinner Table.

Recently one of my friends, a computer wizard, paid me a visit. As we were talking I mentioned having recently installed Windows 98 on my PC and that I am very happy with this operating system. I also showed him the Windows 98 CD, to my surprise he threw it into my micro-wave oven and turned on the oven. Instantly I got very upset, because the CD had become precious to me, but he said: ‘Do not worry, it is unharmed.’ After a few minutes he took the CD out, gave it to me and said: ‘Take a close look at it.’ To my surprise the CD was quite cold to hold and it seemed to be heavier than before. At first I could not see anything, but then on the inner edge of the central hole I saw an inscription; an inscription finer than anything I have ever seen before. The inscription shone piercingly bright, and yet remote, as if out of a great depth:

4F6E65204F5320746F2072756C65207468656D2
0616C6C2C204F6E65204F5320746 F20666
96E64207468656D2CDA4F6E65204F5320
746F206272696E67207468656D20 616C6C20616E6420696E20746865206461726
B6E6573732062696E64207468656D

‘I cannot understand the fiery letters,’ I said.
‘No,’ he said ‘but I can. The letters are Hex, of an ancient mode, but the language is that of Microsoft, which I shall not utter here. But in common English this is what it says:

One OS to rule them all, One OS to find them,
One OS to bring them all and in the darkness bind

This is just one of those things I thought was damn clever and funny as hell.