Archive for September, 2009

Goldfish by bfraz on flickr

Goldfish by bfraz on flickr

Here in the Curmudgeon Offices, things are going swimmingly.  There are also many fish eaters on the staff. I know this because in the company pub the fish and chips, fish sandwiches, fried catfish, and calamari are very popular items.  Occasionally, sushi carryout also makes it’s way into the building during the lunch hour.  In short, we are no strangers to the pleasures of a piscine palate.

At times it has seemed as if there is no seafood we will not eat.  But now we know there is.  Goldfish.  Pet goldfish.  Not so for a Pasadena, Texas woman, at least not when she’s really pissed off at her former common-law husband.

Back when their love bloomed like a rose on a vine, the couple had purchased the goldfish together.  Seven of them.  They named them with silly names like Moby, Charlie Tuna, Carrot Top, and Roman Polanski.  But roses die on the vine, and so too did their love.  The man had also given her jewelry.  She liked the jewelry, as women do.  She coveted the jewelry.  “Good riddance to you, Buster,” she said, “but I’m keeping baubles.”   He thought otherwise and took the jewelry back.  This made her angry.  Very angry.

Would You Like Tartar Sauce With That?

So she absconded with the goldfish.  The husband called the cops (he really liked those goldfish!)  When the police arrived at her apartment, they found four fried goldfish on a plate and three that had already been eaten.  Yep, she fried ’em up and was eating them.  No information on how big the goldfish were, like were they the little bowl goldfish or those big things that swim in the little pond out back, but they were goldfish just the same.

No charges were filed.  Apparently, it is still perfectly legal to eat goldfish, as it was years ago when bar contests were commonly held to see who could swallow the most live fishies.  Not to be a wimp, but if I swallowed one there would be a tsunami in my belly.  Good thing they didn’t get a gerbil.

Moral?  Hell hath no fury like a woman de-jeweled.

Remember “The Three Little Fishies?”

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sarah sosiak/flickr

sarah sosiak/flickr

Here in the tuneful and musical offices of The Curmudgeon, staff members sport iPods, headphones, portable CD players, advanced music systems in every office, and a juke box in the company pub packed with classics and contemporary music.  There is even karaoke on Thursday nights, and all are encouraged to get behind the mike and sing their lungs out, good or bad.

Now, I have always thought of Connecticut as a civilized state populated with Kathryn Hepburns and George Plimptons, but I have never been there and the reality of a place doesn’t always fit with its image.  This is a story of hate and passion.  A story of violence and gang mentality.  It is a story of karaoke.

Hits a Bad Note

When 25-year-old Leidy Alcantra took the stage at Bobby Valentine’s Sports Gallery and Cafe in Stamford, she wasn’t met with cheers and good will, but jeers and venom.   She sang a Columbian pop song and was taunted by a group of females, for what I do not know.  Did she sing poorly?  Did she sing well and these other chicks were jealous?   Did they hate Columbian pop songs?  Information is sketchy, but what we do know is when she left the stage, one of the women cold-cocked her in the mouth and the other 5 jumped right in kicking, slapping, biting, and punching in a frenzy of careless limb-flinging, profanity-laced, girl-fighting.  (Also, it is unknown if this simply turned-on the men in the joint, crying “catfight” and getting a closer seat, or if someone broke it up.)

The singer was treated at the hospital for a chipped tooth and heavy bruises, and the chick-gang – hereinafter referred to as “The Karaoke Katfighters – was kicked out of the bar.  Unsatisfactory, I know, which is why I am pleased to report that they were all later arrested and charged with third-degree assault, conspiracy to commit third-degree assault and breach of the peace, according to the Connecticut Post.

Striking a Chord

I’d like to go on a rant about this disintegration of society and its values, the lack of courtesy and respect paid to others, this hatred that grows across the globe like a giant, oozing wen.  I say I’d like to, but I can’t.  I’m tired., I’m weary, and today, at least, I am losing hope.  If you hear this story and your thought is “so what?  Maybe the chick deserved it,” then you are one of them.  If, on the other hand, you share my sentiments, then you are one of us.  It’s truly us against them.

I normally an very hesitant to give names in stories like this, but I also think that when legal punishment is not enough, that public ridicule can help to fill in the gap.  And so, the names of the “Karaoke Katfighters” are  Michelle Rosedom, Danielle Swanson, Martisa Chambers, Chaniel McRae, Deja Hines and Kiana Strickland.  Stupid ho’s.

I think I’ll go take a nap, and just maybe I’ll wake up in a different time or a kinder place.  Good night.

Don’t let the Karaoke Katfighters bite.

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PETA Save the Whales

Here in the lush digs of The Crusty Curmudgeon, all staff must be an animal lover, and people are encouraged to bring their dogs with them.  There is doggie day-care, a dog park, and a dog agility course.  So you would think we would support PETA.  Sometimes, we do, and other times we want to pick PETA up by the collar and slap them silly, saying, “What were you thinking?”  And now they’ve done it again.

In Jacksonville, Florida, PETA has erected billboards featuring a cartoon of a fat woman in a bikini on the beach with the slogan:  “Save the Whales.  Lose the blubber.  Go vegetarian.”  WTF?  This bothers me on many levels, not the least of which is I love my beef, pork, and chicken cooked about every way you can imagine.  Nor do I find eating meat as being “cruel” to animals.  Personally, I believe that plants feel as much as animals, and scream their bloody pulp out when we yank them from their home turf.   Except we can’t hear them due to some glitch in the “nature of things.”

This is not to say I approve of cruelty to animals.  I don’t, and have been known to weep during episodes of “Animal Cops.”  I guess what I’m thinking is PETA should teach and inspire rather than threaten and embarrass.   If you don’t change peoples hearts, you will never stop cruelty to animals.  Calling us fat doesn’t work for me.

And why specificaly target women?  Are they more susceptible to body image and public ridicule?  Are there no fat guys at the beach?

So come over here, PETA, and let me get a hold on your collar.  For those of you who want to get into the slapping line, it starts behind me.

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