Dear loud, annoying, sacks of, you know what? You don't deserve an intro.
Dear fuckers,
Yeah, fuckers. You know who you are.
This building we're in, that's called a movie theater. This is a place where people go to see films. Films are like pictures except they move and have sound. They are like really big and really long Youtube clips, and, instead of imbedded in your Myspace page, they play on that big white sheet in the front of the room.
We know where the front is because that's the direction all these chairs are turned, so that people can relax in a position that allows them to see the screen. The screen the movie plays on. Because they, and I, paid to be here and watch it. And when I say watch, I mean see, hear, absorb, understand, and interpret.
I don't mean look at the picture long enough to commit that ironic one liner to memory and repeat it to your friends immediately after hearing it like you're that first ant that finds food and rushes back to the hill to inform everyone that food does, in fact, exist.
Now, I don't expect you to understand that some people watch movies like other people listen to music or read books. And by music and books I don't mean Hannah Montanna, and Hannah Montanna's biography.
No, I don't know if she actually has a biography. I was just using an asinine example to illustrate, oh fuck this!
Here is a list of things that aren't acceptable in movie theaters. Don't worry about why. You're too stupid to understand, I promise.
Number 1: Don't buy more food than you can handle when you are sitting down. You're going to be in that chair for, what, 2 hours? Maybe. Do you really need a large bucket of popcorn, a box of nachos with the cheese in a little cup right in the box, 2 hotdogs, a box of bunch'a'crunch, and three 92 oz. Diet Cokes? If I laid all that out for my dog he wouldn't be able to finish it in two hours. Because his body would violently force it back out of him before he was half-way through.
This is one of the only times during the day that it's critical that you not get out of your fucking chair for a period of time, and you decide to begin your movie by wolfing down a large sack of junk that your body can't even begin to process as nourishment.
Now you've got to hurry down a flight of stairs in the dark while trying to hold in a good 7 pounds of waste that your body just basically refused to acknowledge as food.
Honestly, I don't know why I don't see more people in movie theaters tripping and crapping their pants during their tumble down the stairs.
Number 2: When it says "Silence your Cellphones" it's supposed to be a general statement about not USING cellphones. Not something that you can side step on a grammatical technicality.
I know that it doesn't seem like a big deal to send a "quick text", as I've heard it called, but, when you open your fucking cellphone in the middle of a dark theater and I'm in the seat behind you, that 9 million candle watt beam you call a backlight shines out of your phone, ricochets off your fake lopsided tits and shoots right into my goddamn eyes.
Honestly, Dollywood, what fucking world do you live in where something can be both urgent enough to interrupt everyone else and not important enough to take yourself outside at the same time? It's a movie. A MOVIE. Get your shit handled enough that you can go a couple hours without checking in with your dog's hair stylist every 5 minutes.
I remember going to movies and after I got out having to push quarters into a payphone to tell my mom to come pick me up. I'm guessing you're so far up your own butthole that you didn't even understand half the words in that last sentence.
Number 3: Stop laughing out loud when people are being attacked and/or tortured on screen. No Country For Old Men is not a comedy. If you can't handle the subject matter then leave. Don't chuckle and act all casual like what you saw didn't almost make you pee on yourself. Be a man and deal with the message, or get the fuck out of the theater.
Number 4: If your foot touches the back of my head I will keep it.
Number 5: Don't take your fucking kid to see fucking Wanted at fucking 11 PM. What is the matter with you?
What is the matter with you?
Are you really surprised that they are pitching a fit? It's nothing but gunfire and blood and shouting. Your kid isn't being a "dick." She's crying because she doesn't understand why she has to stay up and watch people being killed over and over and over again when all she wants is to go home and lay in her tiny princess bed and dream about being Dora the Explorer.
You are a fucking psychopath, you know that? What you're doing is unbelievable to me, and I don't even like kids. This goes beyond kids. You are torturing another human being.
Yes, that's really what I believe you're doing. You're a shitty parent, and a shitty person, and I hate you. I hate YOU, for what you're doing, when it is so avoidable and unnecessary.
You can't go see the grown up movies because you had a baby? Tough shit. End of story. You had a kid, things change, get a DVD player and some headphones you worthless sack of crap.
Number 6: Don't wear your hat cocked to the side. You look like a walking turd.
Oh, I'm sorry that's a different letter.
Real Number 6: Go do something else. You shouldn't need a list. The theater isn't a diner or a fucking 4H building. It's like a library, but one where everyone can enjoy the story at the same time and take the journey together. If you don't want to take a journey, or don't even know what that means, just walk away and never look back. This place isn't for you, and it never will be for you.
The only exception I will accept from this rule is teenagers trying to get it on.
It's dark and your parents aren't around, I get it. People got needs, I feel you. Just go in the back, please.
Don't fuck so close to me that you rock my chair.
For the people that like my list, enough said. We are all on the same page. No instructions necessary.
For the people that might respectfully disagree with the ideals I was going for, go fuck yourself. I hate you, and if you sit in front of me, I will kick you in the head hard enough to kill you.
Sincerely,
Chiggie Von Richthofen
Film Enthusiast
Tuesday, July 1, 2008
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
A Letter to Insects Concerning Trespassing
Dear Nature's Hobos,
So, I was at the coffee shop the other day and I saw this huge guy who had, uh, what is that on my back? It feels like someone taped a OHMYMOTHERFUCKINGMONKEYRACECAR that's a wasp!
Get off me you little piece of shit. I'm not a big meaty perch. Nor am I a giant snack for you to take your aggression out on. Just go about your business and get the hell away from me.
That's right. Fly away you tiny bastard. Just keep on flying. But, not into my house.
No! No, you are not allowed in there! That is not for you, don't you dare AWWWWW damnit! Asshole!
I hate it when you fly into the house. You don't fly in like a bird does. A missile of terror that knows not where it goes but surely it is to freedom. You don't even fly in like a bat. A Tasmanian devil blur of fury and confusion, squeeking as if do gently say, "WHERE THE FUCK AM I WHERE THE FUCK AM I WHERE THE FUCK AM I!"
No, when you fly in, you stop right inside the door way and, for lack of a better term, case the joint. I can almost hear Curly's voice from the Three Stooges attached to your every action.
Aw, nice digs professor.
I'm not a professor, get out of my house.
Hey, brownies!
Get away from those!
Wooopwoopwoopwoop!
Asshole!
Look, this isn't your house. You can't live here, it makes people uncomfortable. The buzzing and your enormous stinger are kind of off putting and, get off the chair, and I just don't think it's going to work out. Do you see where I'm coming from? I'm just trying to make it so that everybody is, don't touch my headphones just get the fuck off of them, just so that everybody is happy.
Why can't you be like your cousin out there building his own little home under the carport? I mean, granted, he is probably slightly retarded, what with building his home in on of the small wind chimes. I mean his house literally vibrates every time the wind blows. But, at least he is attempting to have a place of his own. He's trying. He's putting himself out there.
You, you just think you can move back in and that every thing is going to be handed to you on a silver GETTHEFUCKOUTOFMYHAIR! AAAHHHHH! SHIT!
ASS! HOLE!
OK. That's it. It's go time.
That's right; I got the squeegee on a stick. No soft broomstick straw for you, my friend. This is nice sturdy rubber coming right at you. They will speak of this battle in the tomes of your people, for you will be the quickest one of your kind ever to be dispatched by the hand of the mighty giant. Prepare to meet your tiny asshole maker, you tiny asshole.
What the? Get off the ceiling! That's some bullshit! Come back down here so I can smoosh you against the easily cleanable wall!
No, sir! No! We do NOT try to crawl into the heater vent! No, we do not! Time out you little shit! Time out! Fuck me! Fuck!
Oh, you may be cunning, but I'm big enough to turn the thermostat. Let's see how much crawling you do with a torrent of hell fire blasted against your crimson carapace! Ah HA HA! That's right! Feel the burn you flying mini-satan!
That's right, fly back down here so I can get a good major league swing at you! AGH! That's ok. I missed but that's ok. You're not going anywhere.
Damn, it's a little hot in here. No, matter, you will perish nonetheless.
After I throw up.
Jesus, is it like 300 hundred degrees in here. How come you're ok with that? Don't you feel that? I think I might need a ten minute break is that cool? I think we both deserve a little sit down and DOOOOONTTOUCHME DONTTOUCHME! GET OFF OF MY FACE OHBABYJESUS DON’T STING ME IN THE FACE!
Oh you bastard. Your legs feel like a tiny witch's bones! I won't be able to sleep for days.
Look, I don't want you in here; you probably want to leave too. I'll just stand back and open the doors, and you just head out whenever you're comfortable, OK? That's civil. A mutual agreement that we are both formidable opponents and that living in harmony is better than all this senseless violence and bloodshAAAAAHHHH STACY! STACY THERE'S A WASP IN MY SHIRT! I CAN FEEL HIM BUZZING AGAINST MY NIPPLE! STACY! STACY, HE'S GOING TO STAB MY TUMMY WITH HIS HUGE INSECT BUTT-KNIFE! CALL THE POLICE! STACY!
Sincerely,
Chiggie Von Richthofen
SONOFABUTTNUGGETMONKEYFUCKINGDONKEYBALLSOFARABIA!
So, I was at the coffee shop the other day and I saw this huge guy who had, uh, what is that on my back? It feels like someone taped a OHMYMOTHERFUCKINGMONKEYRACECAR that's a wasp!
Get off me you little piece of shit. I'm not a big meaty perch. Nor am I a giant snack for you to take your aggression out on. Just go about your business and get the hell away from me.
That's right. Fly away you tiny bastard. Just keep on flying. But, not into my house.
No! No, you are not allowed in there! That is not for you, don't you dare AWWWWW damnit! Asshole!
I hate it when you fly into the house. You don't fly in like a bird does. A missile of terror that knows not where it goes but surely it is to freedom. You don't even fly in like a bat. A Tasmanian devil blur of fury and confusion, squeeking as if do gently say, "WHERE THE FUCK AM I WHERE THE FUCK AM I WHERE THE FUCK AM I!"
No, when you fly in, you stop right inside the door way and, for lack of a better term, case the joint. I can almost hear Curly's voice from the Three Stooges attached to your every action.
Aw, nice digs professor.
I'm not a professor, get out of my house.
Hey, brownies!
Get away from those!
Wooopwoopwoopwoop!
Asshole!
Look, this isn't your house. You can't live here, it makes people uncomfortable. The buzzing and your enormous stinger are kind of off putting and, get off the chair, and I just don't think it's going to work out. Do you see where I'm coming from? I'm just trying to make it so that everybody is, don't touch my headphones just get the fuck off of them, just so that everybody is happy.
Why can't you be like your cousin out there building his own little home under the carport? I mean, granted, he is probably slightly retarded, what with building his home in on of the small wind chimes. I mean his house literally vibrates every time the wind blows. But, at least he is attempting to have a place of his own. He's trying. He's putting himself out there.
You, you just think you can move back in and that every thing is going to be handed to you on a silver GETTHEFUCKOUTOFMYHAIR! AAAHHHHH! SHIT!
ASS! HOLE!
OK. That's it. It's go time.
That's right; I got the squeegee on a stick. No soft broomstick straw for you, my friend. This is nice sturdy rubber coming right at you. They will speak of this battle in the tomes of your people, for you will be the quickest one of your kind ever to be dispatched by the hand of the mighty giant. Prepare to meet your tiny asshole maker, you tiny asshole.
What the? Get off the ceiling! That's some bullshit! Come back down here so I can smoosh you against the easily cleanable wall!
No, sir! No! We do NOT try to crawl into the heater vent! No, we do not! Time out you little shit! Time out! Fuck me! Fuck!
Oh, you may be cunning, but I'm big enough to turn the thermostat. Let's see how much crawling you do with a torrent of hell fire blasted against your crimson carapace! Ah HA HA! That's right! Feel the burn you flying mini-satan!
That's right, fly back down here so I can get a good major league swing at you! AGH! That's ok. I missed but that's ok. You're not going anywhere.
Damn, it's a little hot in here. No, matter, you will perish nonetheless.
After I throw up.
Jesus, is it like 300 hundred degrees in here. How come you're ok with that? Don't you feel that? I think I might need a ten minute break is that cool? I think we both deserve a little sit down and DOOOOONTTOUCHME DONTTOUCHME! GET OFF OF MY FACE OHBABYJESUS DON’T STING ME IN THE FACE!
Oh you bastard. Your legs feel like a tiny witch's bones! I won't be able to sleep for days.
Look, I don't want you in here; you probably want to leave too. I'll just stand back and open the doors, and you just head out whenever you're comfortable, OK? That's civil. A mutual agreement that we are both formidable opponents and that living in harmony is better than all this senseless violence and bloodshAAAAAHHHH STACY! STACY THERE'S A WASP IN MY SHIRT! I CAN FEEL HIM BUZZING AGAINST MY NIPPLE! STACY! STACY, HE'S GOING TO STAB MY TUMMY WITH HIS HUGE INSECT BUTT-KNIFE! CALL THE POLICE! STACY!
Sincerely,
Chiggie Von Richthofen
SONOFABUTTNUGGETMONKEYFUCKINGDONKEYBALLSOFARABIA!
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
A Letter to Managers, All Managers, Concerning Threats
Dear Fat Idiot That Has Wasted His Life And Now Thinks I'm Going To Let Him Waste Mine,
I've noticed lately in our meetings and our phone calls, and just in general conversation, that, well, you don't seem to know what the fuck you're talking about. Ever. It took me a while to pick up on this because, when you first arrived here as our Director, we didn't really talk much. Therefore, it wasn't until our first conversation that I realized that you were a big ol' useless sack stuffed with about as much bullshit that I've ever seen in one place at one time. Still, you were a manager with absolutely no background in what our department does, and then were put in charge of it, so I wasn't really expecting more than you. You meaning a dumb sack of shit.
Anyway, I've notice that you and I haven't really been seeing eye-to-eye lately so I decided to make you a list of "No-No's" for you. Just things to avoid in our professional discourse.
1) Don't ever think I owe you a fucking thing in this lifetime or the next you arrogant, numb-nuts, asshole. Did you save me from a rushing river? Did you help me with my rent one month? Did you lie to the principal to keep me out of trouble when I was 12? No.
You are just my manager. And, what does that mean to me? Fuck. All.
2) Don't condescendingly describe parts of my job I've been doing for three and a half years when you've only been here nine months. "Do you know what the after hours number is for? It's so people can get in touch with us after hours." Really? Do you know what keeping you goddamned mouth shut is for? Because you're about to find out.
Don't come over to me when you see me busting my ass for hours and then ask some asinine rhetorical question. You don't have to prove to me that you're a total douche bag. I figured that out a while ago so let's just cut out this wooing shit you seem to be doing and get down to what the fuck you want or get the fuck out of my face.
3) Don't send errand boys to threaten my job. If you want to tell me to clean out my desk you do it to my face or I'm going to assume that every single threat that comes out of their mouths is void. In fact. Don't threaten me period. If you have a problem with the way I do things then tell me or give me a pink slip.
I know why you don't do that. It's because you can't figure out half the shit we do without me, because everyone else quit when YOU showed up. So how's about you just back the hell off and admit you wouldn't even know what questions to ask if you were trying to figure out what it is that I do for a living.
4) And while we're on the subject, don't act like you are part of some happy family when you won't even take the time to familiarize yourself with our work. You're supposed to be the one selling this shit out on the open market and you don't even know what it does.
You have a little booklet we made for you and if the question isn't answered in your book, then you pretty much just stand there like a jackass caught in headlights. So don't come down to me and try to tell me why we're losing money. I'm looking at the reason, and it smells like Wild Turkey, Marlboro Lights, and sweat.
5) This one is important, because this one is the reason I almost dump hot coffee in your face on a daily basis. Don't say our CTO's name like it means anything. My name doesn't mean anything. I can't say my name downstairs and expect people to work harder. So why should his?
What you're telling me is that this guy; this beady eyed, greedy, leech that pretends to run this company is more important than I am. I'm sorry but he's not. I'm not a fucking indentured servant. I'm not a serf on some inbred lord's plot of land. I work because I want to feed my family and because I want them to be as comfortable as possible, which means, I work for money. If that evil bastard is hit by a truck tomorrow my paycheck still gets here on time so don't drop his name and expect me to jump. It makes me sick with hate when I see in your eyes that you think his, or your name means a damn thing, to anyone.
That's all I've got for right now, but I think this will be a good base for future conversations.
One thing I feel I should clarify, though, is that I don't hate you just because you're my boss. Everyone "hates" their boss. No one likes being told what to do. But, with you it's different, you see, because I don't hate you just because you're my boss.
I hate you, because of you. I just hate you. I hate the way you smile when you know you are swindling people who work hard and don't know any better. I hate the way you act all offended when you think something bad has happened but you aren't smart enough to understand if it did or not. I hate your bullshit excuses for not doing your job right before you accuse me of not doing mine. I hate how you brought in an old employee so you could force me out because you thought he knew more than me, and he didn't. I hate how you try to convince me that comp days are more valuable than overtime because you assume I can't multiply even though my job requires it.
I could go on but what's the point? Listing your faults is like trying to describe each blade of grass in my front lawn. After a while you just write "Green, Long, Ants" and move on to something else.
I do want to plant this little seed of thought in your head, though. You like to throw your weight around and snap of threats like it's no big deal, but when you threaten my job, you aren't threatening my job. You're threatening me. You're threatening my wife and my dog and my house and my car and my entire livelihood.
Pretend you are in my house, and it's dark, and you threaten my wife. What happens?
They say a better man turns the other cheek, let's bygones be bygones, and has the integrity to walk away. Well it takes two men for that to work. That better man has to walk away from someone. Someone who has a temper, who holds a grudge, who makes quick judgments and jumps to rash conclusions. Someone who doesn't like it when he's shoved and sure as hell doesn't like taking shit off some middle aged walking heart attack.
Look at me. Do I look like someone who loves the idea of turning either of my cheeks anywhere?
Maybe the next time you feel like threatening someone because it makes you feel big, think about who you're talking to. Think about whether that person is the new girl, or someone who knows how every fucking piece of our product works and exactly which pins to pull out to watch it disintegrate.
Maybe that someone doesn't just quit when he's finally had it. Maybe he takes something with him. Something from you. Compensation for stresses rendered.
After that, I guarantee my name will mean something to you. Asshole.
Sincerely,
Chiggie Von Richthofen
Not available between the hours of 5 P.M. and 8 A.M.
I've noticed lately in our meetings and our phone calls, and just in general conversation, that, well, you don't seem to know what the fuck you're talking about. Ever. It took me a while to pick up on this because, when you first arrived here as our Director, we didn't really talk much. Therefore, it wasn't until our first conversation that I realized that you were a big ol' useless sack stuffed with about as much bullshit that I've ever seen in one place at one time. Still, you were a manager with absolutely no background in what our department does, and then were put in charge of it, so I wasn't really expecting more than you. You meaning a dumb sack of shit.
Anyway, I've notice that you and I haven't really been seeing eye-to-eye lately so I decided to make you a list of "No-No's" for you. Just things to avoid in our professional discourse.
1) Don't ever think I owe you a fucking thing in this lifetime or the next you arrogant, numb-nuts, asshole. Did you save me from a rushing river? Did you help me with my rent one month? Did you lie to the principal to keep me out of trouble when I was 12? No.
You are just my manager. And, what does that mean to me? Fuck. All.
2) Don't condescendingly describe parts of my job I've been doing for three and a half years when you've only been here nine months. "Do you know what the after hours number is for? It's so people can get in touch with us after hours." Really? Do you know what keeping you goddamned mouth shut is for? Because you're about to find out.
Don't come over to me when you see me busting my ass for hours and then ask some asinine rhetorical question. You don't have to prove to me that you're a total douche bag. I figured that out a while ago so let's just cut out this wooing shit you seem to be doing and get down to what the fuck you want or get the fuck out of my face.
3) Don't send errand boys to threaten my job. If you want to tell me to clean out my desk you do it to my face or I'm going to assume that every single threat that comes out of their mouths is void. In fact. Don't threaten me period. If you have a problem with the way I do things then tell me or give me a pink slip.
I know why you don't do that. It's because you can't figure out half the shit we do without me, because everyone else quit when YOU showed up. So how's about you just back the hell off and admit you wouldn't even know what questions to ask if you were trying to figure out what it is that I do for a living.
4) And while we're on the subject, don't act like you are part of some happy family when you won't even take the time to familiarize yourself with our work. You're supposed to be the one selling this shit out on the open market and you don't even know what it does.
You have a little booklet we made for you and if the question isn't answered in your book, then you pretty much just stand there like a jackass caught in headlights. So don't come down to me and try to tell me why we're losing money. I'm looking at the reason, and it smells like Wild Turkey, Marlboro Lights, and sweat.
5) This one is important, because this one is the reason I almost dump hot coffee in your face on a daily basis. Don't say our CTO's name like it means anything. My name doesn't mean anything. I can't say my name downstairs and expect people to work harder. So why should his?
What you're telling me is that this guy; this beady eyed, greedy, leech that pretends to run this company is more important than I am. I'm sorry but he's not. I'm not a fucking indentured servant. I'm not a serf on some inbred lord's plot of land. I work because I want to feed my family and because I want them to be as comfortable as possible, which means, I work for money. If that evil bastard is hit by a truck tomorrow my paycheck still gets here on time so don't drop his name and expect me to jump. It makes me sick with hate when I see in your eyes that you think his, or your name means a damn thing, to anyone.
That's all I've got for right now, but I think this will be a good base for future conversations.
One thing I feel I should clarify, though, is that I don't hate you just because you're my boss. Everyone "hates" their boss. No one likes being told what to do. But, with you it's different, you see, because I don't hate you just because you're my boss.
I hate you, because of you. I just hate you. I hate the way you smile when you know you are swindling people who work hard and don't know any better. I hate the way you act all offended when you think something bad has happened but you aren't smart enough to understand if it did or not. I hate your bullshit excuses for not doing your job right before you accuse me of not doing mine. I hate how you brought in an old employee so you could force me out because you thought he knew more than me, and he didn't. I hate how you try to convince me that comp days are more valuable than overtime because you assume I can't multiply even though my job requires it.
I could go on but what's the point? Listing your faults is like trying to describe each blade of grass in my front lawn. After a while you just write "Green, Long, Ants" and move on to something else.
I do want to plant this little seed of thought in your head, though. You like to throw your weight around and snap of threats like it's no big deal, but when you threaten my job, you aren't threatening my job. You're threatening me. You're threatening my wife and my dog and my house and my car and my entire livelihood.
Pretend you are in my house, and it's dark, and you threaten my wife. What happens?
They say a better man turns the other cheek, let's bygones be bygones, and has the integrity to walk away. Well it takes two men for that to work. That better man has to walk away from someone. Someone who has a temper, who holds a grudge, who makes quick judgments and jumps to rash conclusions. Someone who doesn't like it when he's shoved and sure as hell doesn't like taking shit off some middle aged walking heart attack.
Look at me. Do I look like someone who loves the idea of turning either of my cheeks anywhere?
Maybe the next time you feel like threatening someone because it makes you feel big, think about who you're talking to. Think about whether that person is the new girl, or someone who knows how every fucking piece of our product works and exactly which pins to pull out to watch it disintegrate.
Maybe that someone doesn't just quit when he's finally had it. Maybe he takes something with him. Something from you. Compensation for stresses rendered.
After that, I guarantee my name will mean something to you. Asshole.
Sincerely,
Chiggie Von Richthofen
Not available between the hours of 5 P.M. and 8 A.M.
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