The Daily Bitch

July 4, 1998 Vol. 2 Issue 2

Well, Independence day is here. Hmm, a perfect opportunity if there ever was one. Maybe it's time for another Civil War. Civil War, that's an oxymoron if ever I heard one. How can war be civil? Can you be civil during a war? Who really gives a shit? I most certainly don't. What I do give a shit about is the sorry state that our government is in. If you walk up to people and say you work for the IRS, you will find yourself shunned quicker then if you had AIDS and Leprosy at the same time. Before anyone writes me and bitches about AIDS and the victims, stop their and FUCK OFF! It's a terrible disease and I know it, no one I know has died of it yet, but I went through the scare back in the late 80's since I had 3 blood transfusions during 3 separate hip surgeries. I gave several pints of blood over the next 7 years just to get the free HIV test. The seven years passed and now I feel better. Anyone who knowing transmits this terrible plague should be shot. Ok? Anyway, back to the IRS. Can you name any other government institution that is feared more by the citizens that support it? Which are you more afraid of? The FBI tapping your computer or the IRS letting you know they want to audit you? Ever heard of anyone having a heart attack when their in the Social Security office having paperwork checked out? Me neither. I'm glad that some people have finally got their shit together up on Capitol Hill and decided to shine some light on their practices. Although some of the stories that have come out of the employees (of course they are granted immunity) are really scary. Did you know that they still use terminals and magnetic tape in there? Congress has got their act together and there will be a new tax code written by 2002. Hmm I wonder how bad that one will fuck the average man? I recently got a new job that pays considerably more then my last. Guess what? I now get more taxes taken out of my check. I'm not talking about the FICA thing, I know what that is about. I just hope it's there when I need it. I'm talking about the federal tax and the state tax. I figure I lose almost $250 from every check. That much is with taking 5 deductions, that's 2 more then I am "entitled" to. I cannot figure out how this shit fucking works! All I know is that the more I make, the more I get taxed. I really understand what those Freeman and Militias are bitching about. TAXES. It comes down to this, we as Americans pay some of the highest rent in the world on our country. How do they do it in Europe, better yet, Japan? I think if more people realized this, this country would see another Civil War. A war on taxes, a war on something we can't understand without the help of a $200 an hour TAX attorney. Go figure this: some fuck has gone to school to learn how the Gov. screws you out of money and charges you what ever he feels to help you get some of it back. If he fucks it up, does he go to jail, nope, you do. Fuck you very much Uncle Sam.

I’m done for today. Consider yourself "Bitched at."

The Daily Bitch

July 1, 1998 Vol. 2 Issue 1

This has been bothering me all week so I'll get it off my chest now. Last weekend I decided to spend time with both my Dad and my son. I figure the old man would be delighted to see me and spend some time with his grandson so off I go to "Hicktown, USA" with my son in tow. Now when we get there, and fight our way past the flea-ridden hoarde of dogs awaiting anyones arrival, my Dad announces proudly that we are going to the "Hicktown Field Days!" Now I realize that most of you readers might not be familiar with the concept of a field days type event. The basic idea is this: the local volunteer fired dept. needs some cash to fill the coffers (since wednesday night bingo just don't cut it sometimes) in order to pay for maintainence of the fire equipment in case they have to go put out a burning cellar. A burning cellar? Yeah, see most of these firehouses are centrally located, the volunteer fireman are not. So by the time Jim-Bob calls 911 (if they have it) and 911 routes the call to the right firehouse, someone at the firehouse sets off the pagers that all the volunteers have, then the volunteers have to beg their bosses (those of them that work) to go to the fire, and then drive (well say 8 minutes to be fair), blue lights blazing, to get to the firehouse, put on their gear, fight over who drives the truck (no lie - I seen this with my own eyes), and drive to the fire, well you get the idea. Most of their mottos run along the lines of "We never lose a cellar!" But then again, I digress. Now the way the fire dept works this, is first they get bids from different ride companies to bring in the basic entertainment (games of chance, ferris wheel, all that shit) and then the "Women's Auxilary" (and I use the term loosely) does the rest like food and what not. Now this is where the real fun comes in, for folks like you and me that end up at these things by accident or design, is watching the wierdos we call humanity, literally crawl out of the woodwork. In all of my years (only about 30 and I was raised in a small Oklahoma town, so I think I can call this one), I have never seen such a collection of FREAKS. It's like a Jeff Foxworthy comedy show, except it's a nightmare and your on LSD. I cannot think of any other explanation that it MUST be something in the water or one too many brother-sister "intimate" relationships (if you know what I mean). This one bitch went strolling by me, had to tip the scales at around 350 easy, in the loudest collection of stretch polyester and a tube top WITHOUT A BRA. She obviously mistook my stare of awe for one of enchantment, because she smiled at me and thats when I got my second shock: 3 FUCKING TEETH. How do I know? Well besides the fact that the moment is burned into my brain, she smiled in that special way that would allow a normal person to say hi, if they weren't being drowned out by the contry-western music blaring over the speaker. The second thing you notice is the kids. They are like little clones of The only thing that makes these events worthwhile is BEER. Lots of it and it all very cheap. Oh I don't mean cheap and nasty, I mean like your favorite beer companies fall all over themselves to sponser part of these events so the beer definatley flows fast and hard. Even better is that if your like me, you won't need a lot of cash to have fun. Put the kids on a ride, drink yourself to a stupor, vomit once or twice and you won't believe how attractive that tube top beauty will look at around 1 am.

Don't think for a minute that what your thinking happened. I have never been that drunk or that stoned (I mean if I was to get stoned) to take leave of my senses. If you have ever been to one of these, let me know about your experience at artcrego at gmail dot com.

I’m done for today. Consider yourself "Bitched at."

The Daily Bitch

June 28, 1998 Vol. 1 Issue 3

So I go to the store for some groceries like I do at least once or twice a week. I decide that since I don't want to cook, I'll pick something up from the "deli" counter. Now the deli counter covers it all, from sliced meats to subs, wings, and pizza. Pizza sounds good, so I stroll the pizza counter and browse the selections. Now being the impatient (and occasionally not too picky) prick that I am, I ask the "clerk" standing there how much for that (point at a large slice pie with one slice gone) pizza. The clerk counts (literally, by moving his little finger in a circle) and tells me it would be $14 ( 7 slices x 1.99 per). I point out to him that a large only cost $11.50 and that we can simply add a slice from another pie and call it a "whole." This stumps the worker, so I basically reason it out to him that I do not feel like waiting the 15 minutes that it will take him to duplicate his efforts that are on display. Now with my explanation in hand (or in head) he turns and explains the situation to what I assume is the "senior" clerk on the scene. Now the senior clerk comes forward to tell me that "he" cannot do this, because if he did then he would have no slices to sell to the other customers that my want that type of slice while another is baking. So once again I try the reasoning approach by telling him that if the slices were not there, then no one would desire that particular type of slice. Good point, but let's look at from the business end of things, he would rather lose the full $11.50 then lose the possible $14.00 he could make if any of the customers in line behind me wants a slice of this pizza. They both stare at me for a few seconds digesting this lesson until the "less-senior" clerks speaks up stating the obvious "Uh there are no customers behind you." "My point exactly, so now can I have the pizza for $11.50?" I reply. Now he makes the mistake of telling me that I could not possibly know this for sure, since I could not know that there won't be any customers within the 15 minute period that it will take to replace that pizza, but he will more then happily sell me all the remaining slices for $14.00. I'm totally pissed now, I wanted that mouth-watering pizza, but this minimum-wage earning fuck has totally screwed up my dinner over a measly $2.50. So once again I ask why he'll sell me all the slices for that $14 when it will leave him sliceless in the same manner as not selling it to me for $11.50. He tells me that that is the way he is supposed to do it. Ahh now it is perfectly clear, so in my loudest voice possible without actually screaming (which is very loud considering I had an ex-drill sergent for a grandfather) "So what you're saying that it is the policy of SuperMart (name changed of course - but it's a large chain of stores in the Rochester, NY area) to cheat their customers?" They both look at me in shock, and someone calls the manager over, since now I have drawn a small crowd to watch our little verbal repartee'. After the manager confers with the clerks, he gives me the pizza for $11.50 and sends the clerks on their breaks. The manager walks me to the cash register apologizing profusely for the "misunderstanding" and hopes that I will continue my patronage in the future. After much assurance and a handshake I pay and leave the store carrying my 7 slice semi-cold pizza.

In retrospect, I figure this whole exchange took about 15 minutes - If I was to admit defeat I could have had a hot steaming pie, but I guess that would have been letting it go a little to easy. Maybe I have issues that I should get help with? Nahhhh.....fuck 'em!

I’m done for today. Consider yourself "Bitched at."