Doors: Imbecile's Bane.

Today, I went to the theatre for a movie. As I'm going to have my ticket ripped, there is a family (mother, father, two children) in front of me. The following is what I heard as I climbed the few steps to the ticket booth:

Mother: [looking at a closed auditorium door] "How do I get in?"
Employee: [short pause] "Open the door."

I applaud the poor ticket boy's restraint. Simply overhearing, I could hardly believe what I'd just heard. And if I had been the ticket boy, it would have been impossible not to insult the woman. What really scares me, though, is that this woman has managed to reproduce, and is now raising two children. And neither the children, nor the husband could help solve the problem of the closed door. Just how many idiots does it take to open a door?

Never Touch a Germy Soap Pump Again!

Hi, kids! Today, I have a special video for you to watch!



So, what'dja think? It's so great! I mean, I always hate how touching a soap pump leaves my hands so germy... I just wish I could do something about those germs that spread onto my hands when I touch that soap pump. It's not like there's anything around the soap pump that would kill those pesky germs...


...sorry.


Words can't describe how much pain the mere concept of this device causes me. The video hurts even more, because these people are actually attempting to sell this horseshit. If my hair was long enough, I'd have already torn half of it out checking the above video for the sake of this post. I literally have to mute the television and avert my eyes when the commercial for this damned thing comes on. It is that painful.


Now, for the sake of beating a dead hooker, here's a pictorial lesson on hand-washing, using a soap pump!

Hi.

Hi. My name is Vaters. I live in a small city outside of Edmonton, in Alberta. By now, you've hopefully guessed that I'm Canadian. I'd list off a handful of Canadian stereotypes that I strictly adhere to, but I can't be bothered to think of more than a couple.

Another thing you might've guessed is that I'm an angry Canadian. Not really angry at anything specific, unless you count the world. Now, I don't wake up in the morning with a snarl on my face and a "Fuck the world and fuck you too!" attitude; I try to start each day on a neutral footing. I start the day with a clean slate, and I'll only be snarling if I whack my head against the light hanging over the route between my bed and my bedroom door, which I forget to duck under around 20% of the time. My problem is that I have such a hard time overlooking the bullshit that surrounds us that it's simply impossible for me to consider myself a jolly person. I'd love to live in a happy, perfect world, where everything is relaxed and zen, and where people are honest and capable of rational thought.

I've just about lost faith in humanity. I loathe incompetence, willful ignorance, and sheer stupidity. My tolerance for bullshit is very low, and it seems to be further diminishing at an alarming rate. It's next to impossible to turn anywhere without being assaulted by half a dozen things that make me wonder just how we made it this far as a species. For now, I've managed to suppress any violent reactions to the level of a harmless shudder, but I fear that eventually I'll either lose control, or suffer an aneurysm.

This blog is meant as an outlet. If I see something that just burns to the very centre of my being, I'll be sure to let it all out on here. Or, at least, that's the hope.