Unjust

Yesterday afternoon I stopped off at a nearby confectionery to check some lottery tickets I had.  I tend to gather a number of them before checking for winners, rather than racing the the lotto kiosk after every draw.  I used the self-checker and found that I only had two winning tickets out of the ten or so I brought in, and those were only worth two dollars each, just enough to pay for a ticket for this Wednesday's draw which I believe may be around $7M.  While waiting in line to pay for my goods and grab a new ticket, there was a little Filipino guy behind me, muttering about who-knows-what.  His accent was thick and I really didn't give a crap anyway.  The only words that I did understand from his garbled speech was "thank you" when I ushered him to another til ahead of myself.  I was nearly at the cash register in the line that I was in, so I didn't mind if he moved ahead of me and another till.

No sooner had I handed over my two winning tickets to collect the four bucks to cover the cost of my new ticket, than I overheard that same polite fellow begin freaking out at the checkout clerk helping him out.  Apparently, he too, was cashing in a lottery ticket.  His was a scratch ticket, however, and worth (from what I gathered) $10,000.  She explained to him repeatedly that he had to cash a large sum ticket with the Lottery Commission, and that such a substantial amount of money could not be awarded from a business like this, nor would it be safe for him to carry out a large sum of money like ten grand, but he would have none of that explanation.  It seemed, as if, they more clearly she explained, the angrier and the worse his accent got.  By the time I was gathering up my goods to leave, this man was as coherent as the Tasmanian Devil and just about as riled up, too.

I don't know how to word this next part without making myself sound like a total asshole, but I'll give it a whirl.  It's not his behavior that offends me in this scenario, but the mere fact that HE won that kind of money and I'm still cashing in free tickets and two dollar paydays.  This guy is "fresh off the boat", so to say, and I've lived here all my life.  I mean, they guy is still wet behind the ears practically, and I've more than paid my dues, so-to-speak.  I've lived in this country, freezing my ass off every winter, getting blasted by intolerable heat in the summers.  I've broken bones, tore muscle, and had teeth smashed out of my head, but I get a couple of bucks from playing the lotto, while this insensitive prick from half way around the world, steps off the plane, buys a lottery ticket and wins ten grand.  Then adding insult to injury, pisses and moans about having to wait until the next day to go cash the ticket in, via the usual methods.  Somebody ought to kick his ass, on principle only.  If I were a lesser person with loose morals, I would have done it and stolen his ticket.  Except I'm more civilized than that.  Plus, I don't look like a Pereira or a de la Cruz...

Porn Score and Seven Years Ago

Porn score and seven years ago.... Erk!!!  Actually that's not what I wanted to speak out about.  Although, one of the funniest things I ever came across in a record store was a compilation CD for the most popular porn music from the 1970s and 80s.  I never purchased it, of course, but just the thought that there was a demand for a movie soundtrack to be produced, always amused me some.  As if up to that point in time, people just watched porn to listen to the outstanding musical score.

Earlier, this afternoon when I was departing from work after a long, well-worked day, I was passed by one of the hundreds of Filipinos who are currently in the employ of the company that I work for too.  He was walking briskly with one hand over one ear and clenched a cell phone tightly in the other.  The conversation he was having was either a heated argument, or he was very passionate about the subject matter.  I couldn't understand a single word, as he was speaking in his native tongue.

I tend not to walk at a very fast pace.  I'm more a fan of moseying.  Being excited to leave at the end of the day, isn't lost on me, I just choose to relax a little more when walking out to my vehicle.  This unidentified Filipino, though, was in a hurry.  As he whisked by me, I overheard some of what he was saying.  It all sounded like gibberish, to me, but like I said, he was very animate about this conversation.  I swear to all that I hold dear to me, he uttered the following words, "Bow-Chicka-Bow-Bow".  I don't know what the f*ck that was but either something was lost in the translation or he was getting ready to shoot an amateur porno.  I doubt it was the latter, as Asians (and I'm sure Filipinos can be included), have tiny dicks.  Nobody wants to watch a dirty movie, if the guy has a tooth pick dangling between his thighs.  A tree trunk in a guys pants can be quite overwhelming and discouraging, too, sure but needle dicks?  Nah, I don't think so.

My point being is...:  How do you consider "Bow-chicka-bow-bow" a legitimate language?  They should simply abandon this language.  In fact, ANY language that sounds similar to (or exactly like) porn music, should be abandoned they way ancient languages had been discarded hundreds or even thousands of years ago!!

Chinese, Japanese, Korean and all points in between, sound like the bells ringing off in a f*ckin' pinball machine, drop the f*ckin' language.  If you're from the middle east and your language sounds like someone throwing up or trying desperately to clear their throat, then lose the f*cking language.  If your language sounds like the background music to Ron Jeremy tearing up some poor unsuspecting woman in a 1970s adult flick, then lose the f*cking language.  Even French is a stupid language.  It sounds like the gibberish people say to babies, thinking the child will find it cute and not think you're an idiot.

Someone gave me shit, once upon a time, on Facebook, when I said he lived in a Third World Country.  "I from Spain!!" he typed in reply, adding some mismanaged, poorly executed profanity.  This is when I stated to all of the Facebook world, and now I share this with all of you fine readers, after which, you'll think about it and realize that it's true.

ANY COUNTRY WHERE ENGLISH
IS NOT THE PRIMARY LANGUAGE, I CONSIDER TO BE
 A THIRD WORLD COUNTRY. 

English is such an awesome language.  Granted, it's probably the most difficult to learn as there are so many words that describe the same f*cking thing.  Then again, by using only one single term or phrase to describe an item or description, is pretty f*cking boring.  The written word is so much better too, not to mention easier to understand.  Unlike that tic-tac-toe looking shit that the Asians use for communication or the squiggly lines that the middle east uses.  That's probably why middle easterners are so angry and bombing shit all the time.  No one can understand their shit.

Everyone just need to relax.  Kick back with a cold one, listen to some Rosetta Stone or hit the books.  It's been said that if you listen to some relaxing instrumental music, that learning becomes easier.  I don't know how well it works with porn music playing in the background.

Language Lessons

I'M MOVING!!!  Packing up my shit, tucking my cat under my arm and f*cking off!!!  Getting the f*ck outta here, man.  Damn straight.  I'm grabbing a globe.  I'm going to spin the f*ck out of it, then jab my finger down on it.  Where my finger lands, that's where me and my cat, Monkey, are going to call home!!!

Actually...  I'm not really moving.  I can't think of anywhere I'd rather live than here in Toontown.  Maybe if I had one of my dream jobs, I'd consider another location to call home, but here in reality, I'm staying put.

If I was going to move away, off to a far off land..., let's say Fucktopia.  You'd be god damned sure that I'd learn the language.  The absolute basics of the Fucktopian language, at the very least.  Hello's.  Good-bye's.  Where's the f*ckin' bank?  Police.  Doctor.  As well as, basic sentences and phrases.  .

For example:  If I were working in a factory setting and a fellow came along and asking assistance in lifting and moving something too heavy for one fella to handle, I'd hope to understand enough to help the poor bastard out, instead of standing there with my dick in my hand, smiling like a retard, nodding and repeating "Hi!"  I think it's necessary to have, at least a basic grasp of the language used by those who reside where you choose to reside.  It's only respectful for those around you..

Let me clarify this more clearly.  I'm employed at a local factory that produces farm implements.  A majority of those employed at the facility are of Filipino decent.  Fresh off the boat, brought here to Toontown, specifically for employment here.  A fairly large percentage of those immigrated folk, can't even speak a lick of English, which makes working along side of some of them rather frustrating.

The facility, where I'm employed, is split into two plants.  An east plant and a west plant, each producing a different implement or two.  Today, a fella from the east plant was ill and I was instructed to go over and cover for some of his duties, one of which was to transport a rack into the assembly line and transfer emptied paint racks from the stand to the rack.  Some of the paint racks are small and light enough to handle alone, but most of the others are really f*cking heavy and require two people to lift and carry them.

The first few were fine.  I'd drive along side of the stands and pop each side onto the rack.  Others though... Wow.  Un-f*cking-believable, how heavy these things were.  So I walked up to one of the workers standing there, staring off into space and asked, "Hi!  Could I borrow you for a second to help me move this rack, please?"  To which the daydreaming foreigner smiled and looked straight at me and answered, "Hi," followed by a long-ass pause, where he continued to smile and nod.

I walked back to the painted rack, thinking he was following behind me.  When I turned, I noticed no one was there and the daydreamer was still standing there smiling and nodding.  "Hi!  Hi!  Hi!"

If this occurred just once, I'd understand.  One lump of shit overlooked in the sandbox, but this happened two more additional times.  Not to sound rude (too late), but I guess I should've looked for a round-eyed f*cker to lend me a hand.

At least these folks had the decency to smile.  Some of the Filipino folks in the west plant just stand there and stare at you like you have a piece of snot caught in your beard.  Giving you, almost, a look of total disgust.  As if I were the one who just stepped off the boat.  Even people who've been here, in Canada, for a decade or two, can't speak any of the language.  How stupid is that?!

Comedian, Andrew "Dice" Clay once said: "If you can't speak the language, get the f*ck out of the country!!"  More truer words have never been uttered by anyone before or since then...

Language Barrier

I should have known that Thursday was going to be a f*cked up day at work, when I jumped up at 5:31am, in a panic, thinking I was late for work.  I'd already gotten one sock on my foot before I realized that I had an entire hour before I had to depart for work.

For the most part, my day was relatively routine.  I got out to my primary work area and was greeted with a horrific mess left by the previous night's crew and the "burn-off" idiot from that morning.

I drive a fork lift for a industrial-type factory here in the city.  At the current time, I am covering for a fella who's off with a nasty back injury that required surgery.  What the job entails is placing steel racks onto carts for the assembly/paint line at the industrial factory in where I am currently employed.  The emptied racks, once depleted of the parts they hold, must go to a fiery furnace to have the paint removed from the racks.  It's an easy process which is complicated in it's explanation.  Suffice it to say, the guy who works the burn off area, is as a fellow worker described as a "dip-shit".  And this dip-shit, causes me grief on an almost daily basis.  However, he is not what made this day stupid.  It was the communication with one or two other people.

The plant in which I work, employs a great deal of people of the Filipino persuasion.  What I find odd about these folks, is the fact that they come from a Sovereign State of South East China, they all have Mexican-type names, but can't speak a lick of Spanish.  It's all that ping-pong wing-wong shit.  That isn't a language!  Those are sounds from a vintage pinball machine.  What's even more f*cked up is, a majority of these folks, can't pronounce the letter 'F'.  The very same sounding consonant that starts the country of their origin.  The afore mentioned dip-shit, can't even pronounce my name.  Always calling me "JEPP".  Who the f*ck is Jepp?

Believe it or not!  I don't have that much of a problem communicating with the Filipino workers.  Granted I don't speak to the masses, but instead a few strategically placed folks.  The people I have a problem speaking to, are the people of the caucasian persuasion.  The older white guys who were born and raised right here in Canada, where English is their primary language, but you'd never know it because the order in which they speak certain words, totally confuses the f*ck out of me.

For example, this grey-haired guy flagged me down yesterday and kindly asked me if I'd pick up a heavy steel instrument from outside and bring it to his stall inside.  I gladly agreed, always eager to help, and asked where he was.  

"I'm right across from where they're building those great big tanks." he said.  I knew exactly the tanks to which he was referring and quickly picked up the tool with my fork lift and traveled down to the stall across from those giant tanks that were being built.  Once there, I asked the grey-haired fellow where he'd like it.  The man just stared at me and told me he didn't know what I was talking about.  

"You just asked me to bring this down to you, like two minutes ago."  As it turned out, it wasn't the same guy.  For some reason, in this general area, there's about three different old f*ckers, all with the same shitty haircut and all with same shitty salt-n-pepper 1970's porn mustaches, thus confusing the hell outta me.  Eventually, I found the guy, who didn't have the stall across from the big tanks being built, but was beside the giant tanks.  I tried to explain his error, "You said across, which would indicate that there was some sort of barrier that divided you from the tanks.  Like a river.  Or shrubbery.  A field or in this case, the roadway..."  My words were futile.  He just stared at me like I was speaking a foreign language.  What a dumb-ass.

Today, the same thing occurred.  There were some carts outside with shiny red painted parts on them.  This guy, who's name I'll change to protect innocent...  Let's call him DICK!  Come's up to me and asks, "When you have a spare moment, can you bring in those painted parts for me?"  I thought it odd, being he is a welder, but what the f*ck?  He apparently knows what he's talking about.  So I bring in the two carts of painted parts and park them in his stall.  About five minutes later, he storms up to me and demands I remove these painted parts.  "You don't put painted parts in a weld stall!" he said forcefully, to which I replied, "You told me..., 'When [I] had a moment, could I bring the painted parts in to you."  

"Well I meant to take them over to R___."  She's located on the far side of the west plant, in which I currently work in.  

"If you'd have said that, I would have, but YOU said 'bring them in to YOU'."  (In my world, when someone requests that something be brought to them, it literally means: Taking that item and bringing it to that person.  It does not mean: Taking [said] item and shuffle it off to whomever.

"Well I meant for you to take them to R___!" he repeated, adding more force to his tone.

"You should've said that then." I answered, unwilling to take any shit.

"You know what I meant."

"I can't read minds.  You should say what you mean." I quickly answered and leaving the matter at that.

My biggest frustration in life, is why it seems those who are to speak English most fluently, seem to f*ck it up the most?  Some days I just want to scream and pull my hair out when dealing with these dumb-ass people...

Perhaps it's my own fault, though.  Over the years, since leaving high school, I've tried to perfect my speech and use of the English language.  I've improved myself so much so, that a few years ago I was tested on my speech, reading comprehension and writing.  The result was scoring in the top twenty-one percentile for my age group.  Which was explained to me as my being "smarter" (that's debatable, I suppose) than 79% of the people in my age group.  I can't help but wonder, where I'd score in comparison to the age group of older grey-haired f*cks with 70's porn-style mustaches...?