He is the most Sarcastic Man in the world.

One of his snide remarks once brought peace to the  Middle East, for 22 minutes, before all sides of the argument plotted to kill him.

His conversations come with warning labels.

He is the most sarcastic man in the world.

He has inside jokes with complete strangers, about other strangers.

He has proven in a court of law that his tongue is mightier than the sword, the pen, and weapons of mass destruction.

He is the most sarcastic man in the world.

I don't always give compliments, but when I do, I still don't.

Stay cynical you bastards.



And now Mondays Greeting card:


Cover:

If I were to list all of the traits I like about you.

Inside:

~THIS PAGE INTENTIONALLY LEFT BLANK~

You might be an ass hat.

If the last time someone said you look nice, you and your date answered, "Thank you"........

You might be an ass hat.

If the last story you told included the statement, "I can't believe I made it home that drunk. I should be dead.".......

You might be an ass hat.

If you accelerate to keep the person from merging in front of you.......

You might be an ass hat.

If you have ever seen some who needed help and didn't help them.......

You might be an ass hat.

If you think your car can get you laid.......

You might be an ass hat.

If you have a name for any body part.......

You might be an ass hat.

This has been a Public Sarcasm Announcement.

Sarcasm Dies ~ Episode 3

I know my sea bag was in a trash bag. It was in a trash bag sitting on my rack in an empty, clean berthing. Now, it wasn't there. Gone, with my passport, travelers checks, civilian clothes and all of my clean coveralls, underwear and socks. It was a bad moment. Luckily I could brush my teeth, and I had soap. Shaving was out, unless I wanted to use my Leathermen multi-tool (not going to happen). Upon asking about my bag I was told there was a more important issue on the Swedish ship, they were sending a Helicopter to pick me up shortly, and I should* gather my things and get dressed.

[*Should: Indicates a strong dislike, for the rest of my life, for Estonia, and the people of that ship. A long line of profanities is running through my head. I will spare you that.]

 The emergency on the Swedish ship wasn't a huge issue. It took a few minutes to figure out and resolve. My room was awesome. Had to take an emergency escape test. Putting on the cold weather suit like they have on "The Deadliest Catch" and getting to the rafts was fun, if by fun you mean figuring out if the ship goes down you will survive. The food was better and the crew was awesome. Slept in, had a hardy breakfast, and went to talk with the days plans. He had already prepared the schedule for resolving the remaining ships issues, and had arranged a pair of spare coveralls and some assisted washing time for the clothes I had left. He also explained the Estonians thought my bag was trash. 

I bounced around on day three, and when I finished getting the remaining ships on the same page, I returned to make plans to get back home. The Captain explained that I would not be going home today because there was going to be some really rough water that evening, and he didn't want to risk his crews lives or mine just to do a small boat to Helo transfer. And besides, they had beer. That night we had a crew meeting (in Swedish), a moment of silence (in Swedish), a prayer (in Swedish), and then dinner. I talked with some of the crew and asked about how they liked their jobs and other social questions. It was a polite dinner.

The next day, during breakfast, the Comms Officer and I discussed the fact that NATO had declared me dead. I was part of the crew list from the night before and the small boat that was supposed to have been carrying me had overturned, all hands lost. A little bit flabbergasted, he explained they would be in site of the coast line of Poland tomorrow, and I could send an email to my ship to let them know I was still alive.

 [Since this happened, I have been looking for the names of the sailors lost at sea. I have not found them yet, and though I am glad I was not one of them, those lost souls are still some ones child, parent or sibling. They need their moment here as well. Fair seas and following winds]

 I spent day four helping inventory comms gear in the huge containers they kept in the areas that would have normally been parking for cars riding the ferry. Day five, we connected a large suction cup to the window, then to a cell phone then to a laptop, connected to an email server and..... damn you Outlook. I could not remember what any of the email address' were on the ship. I knew an HF frequency to get in contact with them but the Swedish vessel did not have enough antennas to support that. So, I guessed and sent an email to 25 recipients that I hoped would receive it. Later that day we checked the email for any responses, and we had received one email. They were glad to hear I was alive and they would have a helicopter waiting for me at 7:30, shortly after we were supposed to pull in. Finally, I had a ride home.

One more segment of this story and it's all over. 

However, it is Friday which means its Evil Greeting card day!!!!!!
Today's card is for motivation... Well, that is what I call it. 

Front

If at first you don't succeed....

 Inside

You had one job...ONE JOB....just WOW

This has been Public Sarcasm Announcement, if knowing is half the battle, you have still lost.

It all started with "Back to the Future", and an image of Marty Mcfly looking at his watch over a picture of the Deloreans dashboard showing the date he went to in the future. In fact, it's coming up. The entertaining part is that there are numerous memes depicting dates stating "Today is the day" he arrived. Most of them are incorrect. This began the need for a jerk to attack my sister, not physically mind you, but on Facebook. 

Sarcasm hates bullies.

I am honest, direct, and sarcastic. I will get upset on occasions of poor customer service, rude customers, and shitty coffee. However, after I have made my point I will wish you a good day, apologize and leave it that. I understand people have bad days. I can usually identify those people just by the look of absolute despair, anger, or anguish on their face. I will not try and take a moral stance to make you feel like shit. 

This guy proceeded attack her for posting hoaxes. 

Let's define a hoax here, shall we: A hoax is a deliberately fabricated falsehood made to masquerade as truth.^[1] It is distinguishable from errors in observation or judgment,^[1] or rumors, urban legend, pseudosciences or April Fools Day events that are passed along in good faith by believers or as jokes.

Lets Define a Meme:A meme (pron.: /ˈmiːm/; meem)^[1] is "an idea, behavior, or style that spreads from person to person within a culture."^[2] A meme acts as a unit for carrying cultural ideas, symbols, or practices that can be transmitted from one mind to another through writing, speech, gestures, rituals, or other imitable phenomena. Supporters of the concept regard memes as cultural analogues to genes in that they self-replicate, mutate, and respond to selective pressures. 

Pop culture makes these prevalent. Hoaxes are also all over. I will post connective information to show you the truth. Then will leave it to you. This man made himself a menace. I stepped in, made a few comments about the basis of information he was using and helped him understand what internet humor was. Shortly after, he un-friended my sister. I have been told this is a severe insult. Much like the social stigma of changing your relationship status first. 

Now this is something I just don't get. When did Facebook become the go to area for relationships? According to recent statistics from lawyers (I know, if information came from lawyers can we trust it?) that two thirds of divorces state Facebook some where in the reasons for divorce. Gives me the creeps that the value of a line of text in a drop down menu makes so much of a difference. I think the option should be for other people to be able to click a drop down menu to rate others and develop a public reputation. I for one expect to be notified the "Asshole" option was chosen at least 35 times in the first second of this application. I am totally OK with that. My friends know this about me, and frankly, they will be the first 35. I wear it as a badge of honor. 

Now, moving foreword, where the hell do you get off with assuming the funny item posted by some one else is offensive to you? Give it up people. It's a damn cat, or some funny pseudo political statement meant to snub some current situation. I decided to come up with a list of Sarcasm Given Rights on internet:

1. You have the right to scroll. In the event the post, article, meme, picture or rant looks like it might be a little too far outside of your views for you to be OK with reading it, feel free to scroll right on by. Your opinion really isn't that important. It's not going to have an affect on the people who posted the comment in the first place.

2. You have the responsibility to Google/Bing/Snopes/Huffington the article for real information pertaining to the validity of the information they are spouting. They won't learn without broader horizons. Also, the ones who are really fucking nuts, destroying their reality with the facts, are entertainment for months. Sometimes, you can see the spittle on the screen, even from the other side of the internet.

3. If the specific post "tags", "@", or by some other fashion of targeting posts to you directly, by all means a Social Media throw-down should commence. But, please, please, please do your research to make it good! You have a responsibility to make the show worth watching. I have emergency popcorn waiting.

4. You have the right to shut the fuck up. It's an opinion posted by some one else. If it is going to cause you stress you should really look at doing something else with your time. Maybe write a blog where you're a complete and total jerk to the internet ether. It makes me happy. I'd recommend it.

5. You have the right to be ignored. If you are posting something to cause an argument, you're a jerk. I should know. I do it whenever I am bored. I expect to have the trolls climb out from under their bridges and go at me. I also know and love my little troll minions. They give me something to do. If you don't get any posts on your inflammatory comment, you sir have been ignored. It's OK. It happens.

6. You have the right to chill the fuck out. If your time on social media, the internet, video games or porn sites leaves you sweating, and your heart racing with potential cardiac arrest, first you should see a doctor. Second you should disconnect. The internet is not a place for you. Some of us are sick fucks and will try to kill you any chance we get.

These are your rights, know them and CHILL OUT please.

This has been Public Sarcasm Announcement, if knowing is half the battle, you have still lost.

Getting Served

Getting Served

or

The Reason Sarcasm is now banned from WaWa.

*Disclaimer: The specific Starbucks employee mentioned was fired the next day. Oops.

Moving on....I happen to be a very easy going person. I don't ask for

much, in fact most of the time I don't really try and have a

conversation with people at all. The sound of people weeping gets on

my nerves and seems to follow me around any day I feel chatty. However,

this particular day all I wanted was a simple coffee. I like coffee.

Coffee likes me. We get along great, as long as no one tries to

converse with either of us until we get together for our morning

ritual. I either hit my usual Wawa (where the coffee is usually made with the

tender loving care of other religious coffee drinkers) or, if I'm feeling spendy,

I will hit the Starbucks, which is along the same route to work.

Well, on this particular day, I had to take a different path than I usually do, so I stopped at a relatively new Wawa in my area. Used to the good quality

brew I find at this franchise, I made my black, lightly sweet, cup of coffee,

and took my place in the check out line queue. Some of you are groaning right now. He hasn't paid for it yet, why is he drinking it already? Well, frankly, I made my cup of Joe all by myself, just the way I like it. I may not have filled the water reservoir, or scooped the grounds into the filter, but I poured the resulting liquid smile into the cup, added just the right amount of sugar, and stirred till the granules dissolved. They aren't going to put it back in the pot at this point, are they?

No, of course not. So, logically, standing at the counter waiting to check out is the perfect place to take the edge my early morning stabbie feelings. Two birds, one stone, and all that. Normally, this action would have resulted in a deep, throaty groan, closed eyes, and a small smile. On this day, however, I gagged. You can imagine my disappointment to discover the coffee was ice cold, and at a closer glance had black flakes of something floating in it. Please don't get me wrong, I enjoy a delicious glass of

iced coffee as much as any other addict. Floaties though? Not so much.

I know, it was probably just burned coffee from a pot left on the warmer too long, no biggie right? Well, to me, it most certainly IS a biggie. You see, I come from a long line of coffeinds.We are a rare breed of human who require the achingly sweet embrace of caffeine on a daily basis to ward off a murderous demon that resides deep within us. This demon, if not appeased, makes my normal sarcastic self seem like Bob Hope

in a Christmas special, with Jerry's kids, Santa Clause, and 6000 Puppies thrown in for that extra "if I wasn’t sure I wanted to kill myself before" effect.

We like our coffee hot, fresh, and not burned.

I started to walk back to dump out my cup, and try and find a fresh pot

of hot coffee. Before I could, some clerk, who will be forever known to me as dick face lumpy chins, stopped me and declared in a nasally power mad voice, "You drank from that CUP!!!".

Now, with the entire store staring at us, and the other coffee loving patrons

staring at me like I had something wrong with me, I explained to the

clerk that I had all intentions of purchasing said cup of coffee until

I realized they must have used frozen piss to make this batch of

coffee and I was going to go back to find a decent cup of coffee from

their plethora of coffee dispensers and then purchase a cup when and if I

found one. At this point the other patrons began to try theirs, and

several looks of disgust ruled out the Hazelnut, Irish cream, and

Jamaican Blend from the options available to me. As the clerk

berated me for about 2 minutes for abusing the serve yourself kindness of his establishment, I watched as several future customers set their coffee cups on the counter and left. I pointed to the counter then to the clerk and said. "Your service sucks, your coffee sucks, and now everyone who is in here knows it too." I handed him my cup of coffee and left.

Luckily there is a Starbucks down the road. Well, at least usually that

is a good thing. While waiting in line at the drive through window,

the common thing to do is listen to music and think about what you are

going to order. The person in front me however felt the need to yell.

I assume her screams of anger were at a person on the other end of a

cell phone although she had no cell phone in hand, no kids in the

backseat and no passenger, unless they happened to be invisible. I

suppose she could be an actor, and any play with that kind of language

is going to be high on my must watch list, but I doubted it. So with

the drama unfolding before me we crept slowly in the manufactured

circle of service around the Starbucks. The screamer pleasantly

ordered something with too many names to be called a coffee, and I

ordered my usual heart bursting caffeine overload. When I finally

reached the window, I paid for the white and green cup, and waited for them to finish making my coffee. The clerk who took my money set my cup of coffee on the little metal counter just inside the window. I knew it was my cup because the espresso box was marked with a number 6, followed by 3 question marks.

And then she left. Walked away. Leaving my cup of coffee all by itself,

alone, without handing it out the window to me. There sat my hot

cup of coffee, slowly getting colder, kept from me by only a glass and

metal frame. That was locked by the way! I tried to open it but it

wouldn't open.

About 2 minutes later I noticed the woman working the drive through window was standing at the corner having a cigarette, and talking on her cell phone. And there I sat. So I did the only thing I deemed to be the least violent, much to the chagrin of my inner demon, who would’ve preferred I smashed the drive through window and retrieve my cup of coffee. I got out of my truck, locked the doors, and went in to talk to the manager. About the time I got inside they were all asking about the truck sitting in the drive through. I explained that it was mine and I had been forced to stare at my coffee sitting in the window in front of me for the last five minutes without bothering to hand it to me before she took a smoke break out behind the Starbucks. I think I went on for a little while because I blacked out with rage at this point and found myself walking back to my truck with a gift card and a fresh cup of coffee in hand. So there I was, a fresh cup of coffee in hand, and more free cups to come in the future, walking past the clerk who had snubbed and forgotten me. Well, obviously, there was only one thing to do. I got in my truck, rolled down my window and drove up to where she was.

I poured my coffee on the ground about where her feet were and drove

next door to Dunkin’ Donuts and got a cup of coffee there.

I have not been back to the WaWa. However, the manager of the Starbucks remembered me, apologized again and gave me another free cup of coffee. Cool guy, he also fired the clerk. That's justice, and the Sarcasm Way.

So remember, Customer service is not dead, with the appropriate amount

of rage it comes back rather quickly, with bonus prizes.