Category: smacktard

Have you started saving for college?

I watch far too many children’s television for my own good. When you find yourself describing the plot to a My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic episode because you found it particularly funny, you are watching too many cartoons.

Now, for kids network, Hub and Cartoon Network show a surprisingly large amount of adult oriented commercials. Not “Girl Gone Wild” or KY or anything like that. I mean stuff like Mesothelioma lawsuits, vaginal mesh lawsuits, and Gerber Life commercials.

I get it. You’re a stay at home parent or the kid is home sick. Whatever the case, you’re stuck watching a lot of kids shows. So yeah, why not advertise to the captive masses? But this goddamn Gerber Life commercial. It seems pretty dumb. Parents are sitting around discussing….I dunno diaper rash. And one says “So, has anyone started saving for college?” A chorus of “no” all around. That’s perfectly normal. You suddenly have this crawling, stinky thing that you now have to care for. You’re more concerned about getting through the day with him/her intact than about what might or might happen 18 years down the road.

But then the black couple speaks up. “Oh we’ve started!” Hey cool! That’s pretty neat! Nice little multi-ethnic (not) group, you show the non-white people not looking like idiots. Nice! Until someone responds “How? I don’t even know where to start!” REALLY? You don’t know where to start a college fund for your kid? Have you tried…your bank? Or an investment firm? How about fucking GOOGLE?!? Here, I’ll do it for you:

So, once the black couple finishes their sales spiel about Gerber Grow Up plan or whatever they finish with “and the money can be used for something else if she decides not to go to college.” I thought that was a fabulous idea. Until Mr. Obnoxious McChucklefuck pipes up with “Hey, I’ll definitely look into that” turn to his kid and says “Because you’re DEFINITELY going to college.” Hearty chortles all around. Because MY kid is going to college! Because that’s what white people do. Black people apparently give no fucks. I wouldn’t dare of letting my special snowflake NOT go to college. You can let your little underachieving fuck blow all that cash on meth. My kid IS GOING TO COLLEGE.

What, really? You can see the future? Did you know that not everybody is cut out for college? And that your little shit might be one of them who just fucks around for a year at some high priced university (that YOU forced him to go to, fuck state university, right?) bringing home a drug addiction (need that Ritalin and Oxy to dull the pain, ya know?), sexual assault charges (she totally said yes), and a 0.0 GPA.

Or, what if yeah, your bundle of joy DOES decide to go to college and WHAM, Cancer? Or schizophrenia (commonly pops up around 19 years old). With the way healthcare is going in this country, you sure as fuck don’t have the money to pay for what insurance won’t cover. Where’s that money going to come from? Re-mortgage the house? Liquidate your retirement plan (you can figure out how to save for retirement but you can’t figure out how to start a motherfucking college fund???) That Grow Up plan money is looking pretty sweet by that point, isn’t it?

So, fuck you Mr. Obnoxious McChucklefuck.

Christ I hate this commercial.

An Open Letter To Shoppers At The Whole Foods In The Gateway Shopping Center

Dear Whole Foods Gateway Shoppers,

I fucking hate you. I hate you so goddamn much. You are the most self centered, self absorbed, no-common-sense-having cunt waffles I have ever run across. What is it about you that makes you think it’s perfectly okay to snipe a parking space from me when I am sitting RIGHT FUCKING THERE? You saw me, asshole. I know you did. You sped into that spot, hoping you were going fast enough so that I wouldn’t see you, I suppose.

Why do you feel that it is perfectly fine to just push in front of my while I’m looking at overprices stinky cheeses? You weren’t asking the cheese mongers a question. You just got in front of me like I wasn’t even there. You are the cunty-est of cunt waffles. No, I’m sorry. You’re not. You’re a cockbag.

I will be so glad when that location closes and the new one opens in the Domain. I really will. But a part of me knows that it won’t help. Yes, there will be more parking. Yes, you ass munchers will have room to spread out in the store. But it also means that there will be MORE of you. I can handle you dick cheeses at Costco. Not so many of you there. Oh yes, I know you shop at Costco. How do I know? You don’t put your fucking carts away and you act like King Shit in the store as well.

I hate you all. You make me dread going to Whole Foods. I want to do nothing more than to spit on your car door handles. If I were a dude, I would happily piss on your oh so expensive (looking) wheels. Your children are just as unruly as the little nasty fucks in Wal-Mart, only cleaner and with the same “I’m so much better than you because I’m at Whole Foods” attitude as you.

I weep for future generation.

Die in an organic, soy based, ethically grown oat bran fueled fire.

Normal people who just want to pick up a little something from Whole Foods

I Break With Thee….

Dear Lamb’s Tire and Automotive on Braker Ln and 183,

I break with thee, I break with thee, I break with thee….

I brought my first car to you in 1992. Then my second in 1994. Then my third in 1999. And now my fourth. In those 19 years, I faithfully brought my cars to you for service and repairs. Over the years I watched your management change and get slowly worse over time. But, as the changes were so slow, I didn’t notice at first. But you began to do shit that annoyed me, like recommending service. I, stupidly, thought you were saying these things because you saw something was wrong, that needed repair or tending to. I soon realized that you were just spewing back whatever the computer said. And lately, you don’t even hide that fact and print recommendations directly from a website. I tuned these out. You also began recommending very pricey repairs and claiming that the car would break down at any moment. OH NOES! I took this car (thankfully not mine) to a different shop since your quote was just too high. This shop wouldn’t take our money. Why? Because that OMG SO IMPORTANT repair? Yeah, wasn’t so important or dire at all. In fact, it was never done. Because it wasn’t needed. That is when I decided, “okay, you guys are relegated to oil changes and inspections only.” How was I to know that you would do your best to fuck that up too?

1/3/2011: I brought my car to you for an oil change.
4/22/2011: I brought my car to a place closer to my house because I was short on time for a simple oil change and inspection. On the receipt (which I didn’t really look at until a couple days later), they tell me there was NO OIL ON THE DIPSTICK. Excuse me? I’ve been running my car for 3.5 months on little to no oil? What. The. Fuck.
4/29/2011: I come to you, calmly but still incredibly pissed, and asked “what the fuck?” See, I started hearing noises. Maybe they had always been there, but having JUST PAID OFF MY CAR, any little noise has me jumpy. This noise? coming from the engine. Did I throw a bearing? A rod? You perform a check. No noises heard, of course. But you claim that there is a drip on my oil plug and suggest that was the problem (and that I should get that replaced!). WHAT. You’ve been tending this particular car since 2006. Every time I’ve come in I hear “great car, great condition.” but now, suddenly there’s a slow, slow drip that caused 5 quarts of oil to drain with no sign (no puddle, no stains anywhere) in 3.5 months? A car with no known leaks suddenly ate 5 quarts of oil in 3.5 months? Is that really likely? You are really handing me that as an explanation? You tell me, what’s more likely: a perfectly good car with no leaks (because your hyper vigilance surely would have spotted it long before now, right?) suddenly using  and leaking (with no trace!) inordinate amounts of oil? Or Joe Bob NOT FINISHING THE GODDAMN OIL CHANGE?

So, in short, fuck you Lamb’s Automotive. I gave you 19 years of my money. You get no more.

Dear Graphics Card Makers (smacktard)…

Why do you have to make new cards so godawful huge?!? WHY??? Why did I have to disassemble my whole system just to fit this fucking huge monter of a card into my box? WHY? Why will it have to make @aelerelean get rid of an entire harddrive just to get his card to fit? The hell man? Goddamn! I mean, shit, guys. What kind of rigs do you think we run? It’s not all monster tripleplushuge watercooled behemoths! Some of us have smaller cases and, apparently, shitty airflow. But hell, man, I should have to start looking for cases with 4 120mm fans just to keep *YOUR* cards working properly. UGH! And why would I need a new case and more fans? Because your goddamn card idles at 70C. 70C!!!!  When I exit the Sims, it’s coming down from over 92C. That’s 15 kinds of retarded.All of my fans work, but apparently they just can’t handle the “awesomeness” that is your big ass, has at least 2 of it’s own fans running at 100%, card. Jesus!

Dear AT&T,

I subscribe to your services. Some services I hardly use but feel I must have because, frankly, it’s just weird to not have a proper landline. Anyway, I subscribe to your services. Multiple services. So why is it that I have to go through two different portals to pay my bills? Why are they not fucking combined on one bill? I almost understand when it comes to wireless. It was SBC Wireless (or Mobility, whatever) in this area but Bell-whatthefuckever somewhere else and when you combined to form the mighty juggernaut you are today (just like you were back in the day), you had to absorb all the little baby Bells and their billing. This created a horrible monstrosity that has become your wireless billing. Even though you offer perhaps the best 3G coverage in my area, I am far too frightened of getting fucked and fighting every month (happened to my mom with a PREPAID ACCOUNT) to even think of going with you guys for wireless. But for landline, long distance, internet, and tv, you’ve been okay and everything has been one big happy online-payable bill (the bill format itself has not changed since I was a child. it is literally the ASCII text of the old paper bills from the 70’s with some hyperlinks).

Then, I decided to get U-verse for internet.

So now, I still have my long distance, tv (Dish), and landline on one bill, one portal with a specific due date. And another separate, differently coded portal (with a different user/pass) to pay the internet bill with a DIFFERENT due date. Even though U-verse is tracked by my landline phone number. Why? Why is this, AT&T? You have THREE DIFFERENT PORTALS. Why does the login link for internet/tv/phone take you to a different login page than the “make a payment” button? Why does my phone bill contain a link urging me to see if I can get U-Verse? I HAVE U-Verse! It’s tied to that goddamn number!


Please fix. k thx bye.

Oh, to my readers who will simply cry “Oh you should use Time Warner! you can get everything on one bill and they handle all of it!” I hate Time Warner. They sodomized my cats and molested my parakeet I had when I was 8. They also drive by my house and moon me and send me lewd voicemail messages*.

*may or may not be true, I just really fucking hate them.

Dear Smacktard

Note: This is probably the first in a series of “dear smacktard” posts. Not in a row. Just, like, there’s so many I will make a category or something for them.

Dear Mark aka the stupid non bill paying, getting his ass sued fucktard who had my blackberry phone number before me,


It’s been a year. Come the fuck on.

Dear people who keep calling my fruit (blackberry) and leaving messages,

YOU HAVE NOT REACHED THAT PERSON. If you are calling for a guy and hear a woman’s voice…you have failed! If you get an outgoing message that says “I will never answer this phone. I will never call you back” and you STILL  leave a message…you have failed!

Dear shoppers at the Westlake HEB:

Don’t fucking stare at me like I’m a goddamn cockroach in your overpriced salad. Holy fucking shit, there’s a BLACK PERSON in Westlake! Yes, bitch, here I am. I’m getting my lunch. Oh horror of horrors. I don’t want to be there. But it’s the cheapest goddamn place to eat on the godforsaken stretch of fake highway (it has lights. It’s not a goddamn highway). I’m sorry that I didn’t pack my lunch this morning. So sorry you have to see me in your precious grocery store while I’m wearing a $10 woot shirt, jeans, and crocs. So very sorry my office has a “wear whatever the fuck you want” policy while you swelter in your three piece suit. At “my” HEB, shoppers are friendly. Shit, even the most ghetto-ass HEB shippers are friendly (hi, Oltorf!) Your HEB has buckets full of fail. I will, however, give props to the people who actually work there. Nicest bunch of folks ever. (hallo there, produce guy! thanks for taking the time to greet me while you were stocking strawberries! 🙂 )

But you Westlake shoppers? Feel free to fuck off and die.

I hate you all.