solipschtick

Grudges, boycotts and banishment

I think holding an unforgiving grudge it is a sign of a strong character. Which is why I want to talk about me right now, so shut up. I have three permanent, immutable grudges that I will carry with me to my grave. Some may say that holding a grudge is close-minded, ignorant and childish. Those people are stupid dumb-dumbs.

Grudge #1 Papa John’s pizza

My oldest grudge

I am going to now present to you the story of why I have boycotted Papa John’s Pizza for the last 13 years. You may, at the end of my tale, believe that the cause of the boycott is such a petty matter that permanent, lifetime banishment is unnecessary. But it is not the size of the offense that is the issue. The issue is that once I write you off, you are permanently on my shit list, making me the much bigger person.

I think the best way to relay this story to you is in dialogue format:

Scene: Friday night, Paul picks up the telephone to order pizza for his supermodel wife and himself.

Paul: Yeah, I’d like to order a large veggie pizza for delivery.

Mindless Papa John’s Drone: What’s your phone and address?

Paul: (states phone and address)

MPJD: Anything else?

Paul: Yeah, I have a coupon here for $1.00 off any large specialty pizza.

MPJD: Okay. What’s the code on the coupon?

Paul: Ummmm, there is no code, it is just a postcard I received in the mail this week. I says $1.00 off any specialty pizza, offer expires on June 30th, 1999. No other numbers except your phone number and address.

MPJD: There has to be a code or I can’t give you the discount.

Paul: Ummm, see there is no code, I just received this in the mail from you and it says one dollar off so, you know, just subtract one dollar.

MPJD: I cannot ring it up without a coupon code.

Paul: I see. But it still stands that I have a coupon, which I received from you, and the discounted amount is only a single dollar, surely you can see your way to fix that.

MPJD: Hold on let me check with the manager.

Mindless Papa John’s Manager: Can I help you sir?

Paul: Yes. I am ordering a large specialty pizza, and I have a coupon for one dollar off.

MPJM: What’s the code on the coupon?

Paul: Again, there is no code, I received this Papa John’s coupon in the mail, from Papa John’s, and it says one dollar off any specialty pizza. There is no code that I can see on either side of the coupon that you, PAPA JOHN’S PIZZA, sent me.

MPJM: I’m sorry I cannot honor the coupon without a code.

Paul (loudly): FUCK YOU I’M CALLING GUMBYS. (Gumby’s was a local pizza joint at the time)

Only after I slammed the phone down did I realize they had my name, address, and phone number. I did not expect retaliation, but I spent half the night looking out the window.

Now, thirteen years later, what could make me lift my ban? What could bury this grudge I have against Papa John’s? The answer is NOTHING. I am resolute in my BOYCOTTS and BANISHMENTS, because that is the kind of strong, well-adjusted MANLY HUMAN that I am. The creator of Papa John’s, John Schnatter, could DELIVER FREE PIZZA HIMSELF IN HIS CLASSIC FUCKING CAMERO EVERY FUCKING DAY FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE and I would throw each pizza in the trash, after spitting on it, and not even give him the honor of looking at him or his sweet camero.

Because of my strong character.

(Grudges #2 and #3 forthcoming)

Half a fortnight.

Started with being snowed in up North, having to navigate icy roads while all the time wishing my truck had 4WD like my much manlier wife’s truck. (boy does that sentence read poorly; keeping it)

Then I visited the doctor about a lingering pain, he then touched my balls one at a time and proceeded to tell me my urine sample had blood in it. (“hernia check” my ass, CAT scan next week)

Then my son saw a strange man walk through the back yard and pepper-spray my startled, incontinent Mastiff. (strange tale indeed, need a second dog because no one can defend against two Mastiffs with just one spray can; then again I would rather the house be robbed than to have to pick up that much incontinent Mastiff poo)

Finally today, all of the logins and passwords were compromised at work, and obviously there is no easy way to reset 90,000 passwords in a timely manner. We learned that of those 90,000 some will accept their downtime, some will ask nicely for an update, and some will freak the fuck out about it. (but geek teamwork … boy I tell you, nothing unites like a common “Holy Shit!”)

“I can’t wait to see what tomorrow will bring,” he said not meaning a word of it. He then apologized for his poor exposition about his recent half a fortnight.