Wage Slaves

So I just read this article on CNN.com about this millionaire couple who kept to Indonesian women pretty much as slaves. They allegedly tortured them and forced them to work 18 hour days all for minimal pay and insufficient food. The couple is claiming that the two women are making all these horrible stories up, which if you read the accusations may very well be true since they are pretty crazy. However, I would prefer to interpret this as a warning sign to America's poor. The rich are out to enslave you! If you are poor, hopefully you already knew this. The rich have been exploiting the poor since the dawn of history. This however, is suppossed to be modern times, where every man is equal in the eyes of the law. The rich don't see it this way though. Just think about it, if you were rich and saw all these poor people scrambling just to get a few crumbs from your pocket, I would probably see them as slaves as well. "Wage slaves." Sure they get paid, but what kind of existence is it where your entire livelyhood depends on a rich person's leisure and how much money he feels like giving you on a particular day. Fuck that. That's why working for rich people is bullshit. I don't trust them at all. Subjecting myself to wage slavery is humiliating and pathetic. After living in a community of rich people, I've discovered that they are the same as everyone else, except in their own minds. Their power over regular people is false. Money can only buy you so much. They think their money can buy them safety and security? Ha! Maybe I should just get a gang of surly poor together and go on a violent crime wave targeting the super rich. Fuck 'em!

Hmmm...I think perhaps I have consumed too much coffee this morning. I'm feeling more irritable than normal and this blog has transformed from an informative news blurb into a violent call to arms. I better stop now.

Bum Blog

I'm bored so I'm gonna write about bums.

Have you ever looked at a bum and thought, that dude right there, he's got it all figured out. Of course not. Who envies the life of a bum? Uhhh...me. And why not? Bums don't have jobs, they don't have responsibilities, they don't have money. All the things that bring people horrible troubles in life. Bums got it made. That's one thing I miss about living in a city is the bums. They provide hours of entertainment. If your bored you can just lean out your window and start up a conversation with the guy going through your trash. Just ask him how things are going, and just sit back and listen. He'll have a whole list of crazy things to say. Bums don't give a fuck. They say what's on their mind. Even if it makes no sense at all.

"How'm I doin'? I tell you what, I'm just tryin' to survive out here, y'know. Goin' through this trash and all, y'know. I wasn't always like 'dis. No sir. I used to be an astronaut. Hell yeah, an astronaut! I almost went to space, too. 'Cept right befo' I was s'possed tuh go, I got fuckin' stabbed. Fuck yeah, I got stabbed by one o' dem space monkeys. You know dem? The ones dat they send to space to get smart? Yeah, well dis one, he didn't like me, 'cause I'm black, and one day just up and stabbed me. A motha fuckin' racist space monkey stabbed my ass 'cause I'm black! I tell ya it ain't easy for a black man in dis world, man. I never did get to go to space. I tell you what though, I ever see that fuckin' monkey again, I'ma kill that motha fucka!"

Something like that. How fun would that be? Just go around makin' up stories, looking through trash, collecting aluminum cans and other shiny objects. And if anyone gives you shit, you just go off on them in a crazy bum tantrum. Start screaming obscenities and psychotic threats. Stuff that will scare the shit out of a regular person and make them think twice about speaking up to a bum. You at least gotta respect the bums. If you fuck with 'em too much you'll end up with a pile of human feces on your front porch. What better way to get back at some uppity homeowner who tells you to stay out of his trash than to shit on his porch.

A Bum Abroad: Reflections on My Trip to Germany

I have just returned from a two and a half week long journey across Germany and I figured I should write up some kind of mental reflection on this trip. So here it is.



First stop, my arrival in Frankfurt am Main. After finally figuring out how to get from the airport (Flughafen in German), to the actual city of Frankfurt, I began wandering about the city without having the slightest idea of where I was going. My most vivid memories of the city were the drugged out wackos who hung out right outside the Hauptbahnhof (train station) and the many German sex stores. This was my first exposure to Germany and I was wondering what the fuck kind of place is this? Luckily Frankfurt is just a shitty city and the rest of Germany was nothing like that. After spending the night there, I discovered through an email that my travel partner, lets just call him, uh... let's see, Figsy! Figsy had arrived in Germany a day earlier than expected and that he was waiting for me at the McDonalds at the airport. So I had to go find his ass at the airport where he had spent nearly 24 hours sitting at the McDonalds. Why? I have no idea. But at least I found him. So Figsy and I got the fuck out of Frankfurt and ended up in Heidelberg.



I knew nothing about Heidelberg before going there, but it actually ended up being pretty cool. Figsy and I spent the next day wandering around the city and then getting drunk off some authentic liters of German beer. This led to a physical altercation later that night between us, during which somehow Figsy managed to choke me out momentarily unconscious. He got lucky.



From there it was on to a few other cities, Stuttgart, Ulm, Berchtesgaden, Salzburg. Then to Munich for Oktoberfest. If you have never been, Oktoberfest is a huge beer carnival. There are a bunch of carnival rides, food and of course the beer tents. These things are so huge you would think getting a seat in one would be no problem, well you're wrong its pretty hard. Luckily there is additional seating outdoors, which was fine for us since we just wanted to get drunk. The Oktoberfest beer is not like any in the States. They sell Oktoberfest style beer in the U.S., but it is nothing like the real thing. Real Oktoberfest beer appears lighter than you would expect, but is one of the heaviest beers I've ever had. The first liter always goes down fine, but after that it is almost a chore. It was okay though since the beer was so strong after like 3 liters you get pretty tipsy. So again we got plastered and again Figsy and I got into a fight. This was pretty much a theme for our entire trip. Our accommodations at Oktoberfest were less than shitty. They were tents we rented that were set up at an old equestrian stadium and it rained every night. So we would wake up, completely hung over and filthy, and walk out into the rain and feel even shittier. But overall I would definitely go again.

After Oktoberfest, Figsy and I traveled to Prague in the Czech Republic. I had only seen pictures of this place and had pretty high expectations. I thought it would be a super clean, regal city giving a glimpse into Europe's past. It ended up, there are parts of Prague that are pretty nice, but the overall city gives a feeling of post-communist gloom. Lots of old run down buildings, graffiti, and shady looking Czechs. I felt like every other person there was trying to pick my pocket. After I got used to it though, it wasn't so bad. I'd actually like to go back since I only got to spend a day there.

From there it was on to Berlin, where East meets West, and history is right around every corner. Berlin too, was not what I expected, very spread out, and lots of old communist stuff. It was definitely an interesting place to visit. Lots of Turks, too. Turks are the main minority in Berlin and probably all of Germany, they are shady looking dudes. Big moustaches, dark beady eyes, and constantly smoking Turkish cigarettes. Just walking around I was pretty sure most of them were into some illegal arms deals or perhaps drug trafficking. They sold good food though. Yeah, so, Figsy and I wandered around the city, got drunk a few more times, and got into a few more fights. One of which nearly ended with his death at my hands. Then Figsy left to go home and I lingered a few more days in Berlin, mostly wandering around like a lost tourist. Whenever anyone said anything to me in German, I just yelled, "Ja Wohl, mein herr!" and ran away.

So all in all it was a fun trip. This is just a rough summary of what we did, since I'm sure you would not want to read about everything we did, just as I would not want to write it. So thanks for reading and I hope your attention span is not as short as mine, since I forget what I'm even writing about. . . Fuck it. Back to beer and TV.

MAN-EATING BEAR BLOG!!!

This blog post is going to contains some extreme bear content so I used all capital letters in the title.

I went on a hike today, much like any other hike I have been on. A nice sunny day, not a cloud in the sky. I had decided to hike in Teton National Park. Also not unusual since it is a short drive away. It began like any other hike, greeting the other hikers with a friendly hello, stopping to take some pictures of the scenery. Eventually though I realized I had not seen any other hikers for a while. I noticed that I was very alone on the trail, which sometimes causes me to become a little nervous. This is, after all, bear country. But I have never seen a bear since I have been here. I was beginning to think that maybe they don't really exist. They could just be some crazy story made up by old timey mountain men. Large furry creatures, with razor sharp claws and blood stained fangs. Wandering the forests looking to feast on the flesh of lost hikers. It was starting to seem less and less more likely that I would ever see one. However, this day I would learn the horrible truth. Bears do indeed exist.

I was following a trail across an open meadow area at the base of a mountain. Just as I was beginning to enter the forest again, I saw it. I lumbering mass of muscle and teeth caught my eye. At first I couldn't believe it. Could the legends be true? A feeling of dread filled me from head to toe as I came to face the reality of the situation. It was in fact a real live bear. I stopped dead in my tracks, praying to Jesus that the bear had not spotted me. No such luck. The bear raised his nose to the air, screening it for a scent. He instantly smelled my foul odor and his head suddenly snapped straight towards me. His blood red eyes locked onto mine. I couldn't move. I was paralized with fear. The bear sensed this immediately. He had found himself his next meal. He began to move towards me. As he emerged from the forest I realized what I was really up against. The bear must have been over two thousand pounds. The ground shook as he stomped through the foliage, from each paw protruded four razor sharp claws, 9 inches long each. Its muscles rippled as he shortened the ever shrinking distance between us. All I could think was that this was the end. I have lived a good life and now this bear is going to decapitate me in one mighty blow. The bear walked all the way up to me, sniffing at my head, toying with me. He raised up on his hind legs, blocking out all sunlight. It must have been 16 feet tall. It then let out a mighty roar that shook the entire valley. His hot breath - stinking of raw flesh - blew my hat right off my head. The bear looked down at me with his fangs glistening. His mouth salivating in anticipation of his favorite meal, human flesh. I closed my eyes and waited for the inevitable, hoping that the bear would kill me quickly so that I would not have to endure the pain of being eaten alive. And then . . .

Well I must have survived if I wrote this blog. However, I will not bore you with the details of my miraculous escape. Needless to say, I won't be going hiking again for a while, at least not without my shotgun. And let this blog be a lesson to anyone thinking of going out in the woods alone. BEARS ARE REAL!!!

Death to Summer

It's finally September, the official end of summer. I hate summer. Every summer all I do is work and if I do have any spare time, its too hot to move, so I just lie in a puddle of my own sweat. Yes, September I'm so glad you are here, I could kiss you. However I won't, due to the fact that you are a non-physical entity and kissing you would be impossible. This fall I'm going to piss away all the money I earned by taking a trip to Europe for 3 weeks. Upon my return I will be enjoying the life of the unemployed for a month or two. Sitting on my ass and collecting a bi-weekly government check. Then winter will come and it will be time to ski again! I will get some low paying ski resort job in order to secure a free season pass. I won't need to spend any money, 'cause I won't be going anywhere until spring. That's the plan and hopefully I get to stick to it.

Breakfast? We talkin' 'bout breakfast!?

"How'd you wake up this early?" This is what some old man asked me at 6:45 a.m. in the restaurant where I work one morning. Being still half asleep, the question didn't really register at the moment, so I just stared at him. "Uh...an alarm clock," I told him. I don't think he wanted a literal answer, but too bad for him. I don't entertain stupid questions before 9 a.m. Before that time, I just shoot them down with stupid answers. Some other examples would be, "So, how's the weather going to be today?" How the fuck should I know? You think I watch/read the news? "Clouds should burn off by noon," is my generic reply. "Is this coffee hot?" My answer: "Hot enough to scald your ass, ma'am." Another thing is that I am supposed to remember people's names, since I see them every morning. I never remember any one's name, 'cause I don't care. Instead its something like, "Hello sir, and the rest of you. Good morning!" Using a guest's name is supposed to be our corporate standard. Fuck that. Who checks that shit? They all look alike to me. Either an old couple, or a younger family. Those are the only people that come to the hotel. Mostly old people. Man, they suck. Today some old lady asked me to have her salad chopped extra fine so it would be easier to eat. "How 'bout I just have them mash it into a paste for you to eat through a straw, lady?" My solution to all this aggravation? Drinking. I love it.

All Blogs Go to Hell

I wonder how many people out there actually get to spend quality time with the super rich. I doubt it is too many and I bet a lot of people are thinking, "My uncle is pretty loaded, he has a pontoon boat." No. I mean real rich people. Well I get to spend time with them every morning as their seemingly dilligent and willing servant. I serve them meals starting at an ungodly hour until late in the afternoon. Many people may be wondering are rich people as crazy as they seem on TV? Yes. They are even weirder up close. Especially the old ones. I live in a town teeming with rich old ladies, wishing they were younger and doing everything in their power to appear that way. However, the thousands of dollars they spend on their appearance doesn't really make them look any younger, only way crazier. Face lifts and boob jobs don't do fifty year old ladies any favors. They make them look scary. Like large busted skeletons. Eww...creepy. I have a hard time not cringing when they make eye contact with me. "I'll get you whatever you want skeleton lady, just don't look at me!" I have a hard time understanding how anyone looks in the mirror after all that work done to them and thinks, damn I look young. Which is why I've come to the conclusion that many rich old women suffer from mental disorders. And also that rich people suck. I need a new job. Jackson is so small that I get off work and go into town and see the same people I served food to all morning. I have to admit I have a hard time stopping myself from telling them to go get fucked.

Summer in Jackson

Summer time is hear for real now in Jackson. The tourists have again taken over the town. Jackson in the summer attracts a different breed of tourist however. Gone are the ski enthusiasts. Now the town is dominated by families and old people. Which are as you should know, the most annoying of all tourists. Watching families stumble around town staring in wide-eyed wonder at Jackson's sights, makes me feel sorry for those people. They no doubt, live in some suburb of some large city. Where the houses are all close together and all the lawns are perfectly cut and green. Then they come here and think its crazy that anyone actually lives in Jackson. I can't wait untill they leave. I make my money from tourists, but I also get pretty sick of them. Then there's the old people. Most of them are from the south and they come here 'cause they think it will take them back to a simpler time when rodeos were the main attraction and folks were decent to each other. Then they get here and realize a large percentage of the people who work here are from Mexico, and that straight pisses some old people off. Then they meet the Eastern Europeans who are the summer time seasonal workers. Many don't understand basic english, but they get jobs 'cause the town is desperate for workers. A lot of people don't realize that Jackson is just like any resort town. It may be pretty isolated, but the town still runs off of foreign employees. Whatever, I'll take their money, then blow it all on ski gear for this winter. Booyah!

Reason to Blog?

Hmmm...It's May. Actually it's almost June. I'm not sure how it happened, but I'm closer now than I have ever been to becoming an actual bum. A bum, as in, a hobo, as in, a homeless drifter. Maybe not to the extent of the classic version of the hobo, riding the rails from town to town, but I am a week out from being homeless. I shouldn't be homeless. I have a job, I have money, I have stuff, I just don't have anywhere to keep it. So I've been toying with the idea of camping out all summer. Perhaps buying a cheap pop-up camper and living the rustic campground life. I'd try to find a place right next to some super expensive RVs. I could be their hillbilly neighbor who's campground is always littered with beer bottles and who's camper has a distinct smell of urine. I'd roll out of my camper at around 11 a.m. when everyone else is eating lunch and enjoying the weather. First thing I'd puke underneath my pop-up, taking a moment to reflect on the previous nights debouchery while hunched over my own steaming vomit. This would no doubt attract a significant number of stares from neighboring campers. Next, I'd wheel around, meeting the inquiring eyes with a wild, bloodshot eyed stare. "Damn tequilla. Does it everytime." Then I'd point a shakey finger at the neasest small child and say, "Let that be a lesson to you!" After that I'd pass out for the day, making sure to wake up in time to start drinking again by dusk, entertaining myself with my bugzapper.

Yeah, that'd be sweet.

Another Blog About Drinking

Do I have anything specific to write about today? No. But I was bored and thought my blog could use a new post. So here it is. Remember when you were young, like in high school and you were completely innocent and unaware of the real world? I do. One thing that I specifically remember saying was that I would never drink and drive. At the time I thought it was probably one of the stupidest things you could do. Of course I also had had little experience with alcohol and its effects. Throughout my college years I began to get used to being drunk and trying to do normal everyday functions. Going to class, cooking, walking, stuff like that. So learning to drive while intoxicated was the next logical step. I found that as long as you don't get completely bombed, you can drive quite easily while under the influence. If you are so drunk that you are passing out at the wheel, then this does not apply. But if you are comfortably numb, as I often find myself, then it is just a matter of focus. Keep your eyes on the road, watch for cops, and obey all traffic laws. Its as simple as that. All those people who die in drinking and driving accidents were people who forgot these simple rules. Its all about knowing your limits and knowing where the cops like to hide. Although after a time, you begin to lose your edge. I myself am starting to find that I am much less focused when driving drunk than I probably should be. There have been times when I wake up in the morning in my apartment and think, whoa...how the fuck did I get back here? But then I look out the window and my car is perfectly parked with zero scratches on it. So I forget about it and assume that I must have been okay to drive if I made it back without crashing or being arrested. I find its always good to put things in perspective this way. If you make it home with all your wallet and cell phone, it was a good night. If you wake up with a smashed up face, you might have crossed the line from social drinker, to complete alcoholic.

Well, I'm glad to have shared this matter of fact discussion on drinking and driving with you. I would love to hear your opinions on the matter. Please don't hesitate to leave a comment. I'll be seeing you out on the highway!

J-Hole Update

Hmmm...it's been a while since I have written one of these. Over a month. Let's see what has been going on here in Jackson...oh yeah, all the snow has melted. Somehow the mountain is still open, but only for desperate fools who planned ski vacations for the end of March. I laugh at them everyday. Yesterday it rained and I just laughed at those sopping wet bastards, trying to make the most out of an already doomed ski trip. So I work in a sandwich shop at the mountain now. I'm the Assistant Manager. Mostly I just make sure that nothing goes completely wrong and that all of the customers receive their food in a reasonable amount of time. To tell you the truth, I'm completely sick of working at the resort. I'm sick of the people who come to my restaurant, asking for stupid things that we don't have. I have to admit I love shooting them down. "Do you have any french fries?" Response...No. "Anything fried at all?" No. This is a sandwich shop. We serve sandwiches. "Do you have any regular mustard?" No. We only have dijon here, show a little class. "Do you have any ketchup?" Fuck no. Why would you want ketchup on a deli sandwich?

One of my favorite scenes was a family who brought their own McDonalds food all the way to the mountain to enjoy their lunch in our dining area. McDonalds is a good 30 minutes away. But hey, I know I'd drive twice that distance for some delicious obesity burgers.

Also, I'm really sick of old people. They suck. They all expect us to be busting our asses to give them their sandwich as fast as we can. This isn't the '50s anymore old timer. American workers are much lazier and less efficient than 50 years ago. I could give two shits if your coffee isn't hot enough to scald or if the milk in your latte is sour. Believe it or not, but this isn't fuckin' Starbucks.

This is what happens when you spend a mild winter working at a ski resort making crappy overpriced food for foolish tourists. By the end of the season, you just don't care anymore. Luckily the season is nearly over.

Global Warming is Ruining My Life

So, I don't know about the rest of the country, but this has been the worst winter in recent history for Jackson Hole. No snow and unseasonably warm. I blame it on global warming. Anyone who doesn't believe that the climate is changing must never leave their basement, 'cause I think its pretty obvious. Sure it was cold for a little while here. I'd say about a week of 20 below zero cold. But since then it has steadily gotten warmer. It was like a mini winter. It went through its cycle in about 2 months instead of 4 or 5. Its bullshit. I moved here to ski and I have to ski in the rain in fuckin' February! That is retarded. Some people might just chalk it up to a bad season, something that happens now and again. No. Its global warming. So if you are burning a shit-load of fossil fuels, here is a kick square to the nuts just for you! THWACK!!! I wish searing pain upon your groin until next winter, which had better be better than this one. In fact it couldn't really get any worse unless it didn't snow at all and just stayed summer all year. In which case I will be moving to the Yukon Territory in Canada or perhaps Alaska.

No Talking!

Today I was able to get through an entire day without having any kind of verbal contact with any other human being. Its not like I sat inside all day either. I went to the post office and the library, but no verbal interaction was required. It was not a conscious effort, it just happened at random and I realized it this evening. Then I got to thinking, how many other people can get away with that? How lucky am I, that from time to time, I can go a whole day without having to talk to anyone. I can think of no one off hand who can claim such a feat. Most people have jobs, and almost any job requires some verbal exchanges between people. And if not at their job, most people live with someone else, either their roommate or significant other, which again requires some verbal exchange nearly everyday. So I consider myself in the minority to have gone a whole day without speaking to anyone. I think this might be a fear of some peoples’. Probably some sort of phobia. Some people go their whole lives without ever living alone. To me that would be pretty crazy. I suspect most people crave social recognition from at least one other human being every day, even if it is just from the grocery store cashier. Not today. Me, personally, I consider the lust for human interaction to be a weakness, sort of an act of cowardice. People fear being alone, I embrace it as the absolute freedom within our social society. The freedom to live my own personally perfect lifestyle. When you live with other people, there are many formalities you have to go through that you probably don’t even realize. To some extent you have to adapt to living with the other person. If you live by yourself you don’t have to adapt to people at all, just your environment. Within your domestic structure, you can pretty much do whatever you want. Unless of course your lifestyle includes playing extremely loud opera and firing shotgun blasts through your ceiling. Then you might have to adapt a little. But if its just little stuff, you can create your own crazy internalized world. This may disturb any guests you have over, but fuck ‘em. They are guests in your home/ “world”, if they don’t like it they can leave. When I eventually acquire a more permanent residence, I hope I am not too lazy to make it the awesome world of Jeremy that I imagine. It will be complete with a throne room and a royal court of cats and dogs dressed as lords and ladies, all will be named after famous people from history, my favorite of which will be Robespierre, the kitty-cat court jester. I could go on in further description, but I will save that for a later date. If anyone ever reads this they might think, this guy must be the most anti-social mother fucker alive. Untrue. I work a job that requires me to be very social and if you met me, you would think I was as normal as anyone. As I view it, however, being social ends up tying you up in unwanted social obligations. Keeping in contact with people, making sure you invite the right people, making sure you fulfill obligations to people. Fuck that. I find it annoying enough that my family expects me to keep in regular contact with them. The more I live alone and separate myself from others, the more I embrace social seclusion. However, I also think that it is good to have the option of being social if you wish. I just enjoy having the choice to go a whole day, not talking to anyone if I so chose. Tomorrow I may chose to talk to many people. It just depends on my mood.

Happy Blogging New Year

I have always liked the phrase, "Its what I do, its not who I am." I don't know where it came from, or who said it, but who cares. It makes sense to me. What I do is work at a restaurant at a ski resort. Even before I worked there I have always thought that whatever job I found it would be what I did, not who I am. Anyone who defines themselves by their job has a problem in my book. Work sucks and is for suckers. Though my job calls for me to be social and outgoing, this is not how I spend my days away from work at all. In fact I think that the forced social interaction pushes me in the opposite direction on my days off. Some people might think that spending your free time in near complete solitude would be a sign of depression or some other psychological illness. Untrue. In fact I find it to be a most liberating kind of freedom. I don't have to listen to anyone. I don't have to compromise my spare time, I get to do exactly what I want. I remember when I was a freshman in college, my Resident Assistant for the floor of my dorm thought I was depressed and suggested that I attend an on campus depression screening. True story. She got this impression from the fact that I seemed to not be involved in a lot and also seemed a little bit withdrawn from what she thought was normal social interaction. She even almost had me fooled into thinking maybe I should go to that screening. In retrospect I think the only thing that kept me from going was my own laziness. But now I am glad I didn't attend. I wasn't depressed. Some people just enjoy being by themselves and not being involved with clubs or organizations. I am one of them. While every person needs some human interaction, I get plenty of it at work, so by the time I get some days off, I don't want to see or talk to anyone I know. Which, if you know me, is why I sometimes don't return your phonecalls. And let me tell you, those days off are key to my sanity. Nobody enjoys their days off more than I do. Also, I'm glad I don't have roommates or I would be on edge all the time. Living alone is the shit. For now at least.