Indian school names monkey god as its chairman
By BISWAJEET BANERJEE Associated Press Writer
LUCKNOW, India — He's a revered Hindu monkey god. And now, he's the chairman of an Indian business school.Hanuman, the popular god known for his strength and valor, has been named official chairman of the recently opened Sardar Bhagat Singh College of Technology and Management in northern India, a school official said Saturday.The position comes with an incense-filled office, a desk and a laptop computer. Four chairs will be placed facing the empty seat reserved for the chairman and all visitors must enter the office barefoot, said Vivek Kangdi, the school's vice chairman."It is our belief that any job that has the blessings of Lord Hanuman is bound to be a success," said Kangdi.All Hindus know that Hanuman can lift mountains and leap oceans, but ancient texts make no mention of his business acumen."When we were looking for a chairman for our institution, we scanned many big names in the field of technology and management. Ultimately, we settled for Lord Hanuman, as none was bigger than him," Kangdi said.Hanuman is one of the most popular gods in the crowded pantheon of Hindu deities. His most famous feat, as described in the Hindu epic the Ramayana, was leading a monkey army to fight the demon King Ravana and rescue a kidnapped princess.The Sardar Bhagat Singh College in Lucknow, the capital of Uttar Pradesh, India's most populous state, awards bachelor's degrees in engineering and management. The school opened last year.
Just the kind of rational thing I would expect some religious buffoon to do.
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
Ode To Swimmers
Last Friday officer from our Fugitive Task Force went to serve a warrant for robbery on some jackass. Evidently, he'd gotten a job under another name, but someone saw his wanted poster and called to tip off the police. So two fugitive officers find the guy at work. They approach and a foot pursuit ensues. The guy jumps a fence and runs for about a half mile before coming to a small lake.
I won't even make a joke here. I should, but I won't. The guy runs out into the lake and drowns. We recover his carcass, along with a bag of crack cocaine, several hours later.
His autopsy reveals another interesting story. A year before this idiot was strolling down Martin Street with another Blood Gang member. This other guy, for no apparent reason, was waiving a pistol around and screaming, "Everybody know me, yo!" While he's screaming he fires the pistol repeatedly in the air and then brings it back down. Only he forgets to stop pulling the trigger and shoots this guy, his best friend, in the chest. The medical examiner digs the bullet out.
I won't even make a joke here. I should, but I won't. The guy runs out into the lake and drowns. We recover his carcass, along with a bag of crack cocaine, several hours later.
His autopsy reveals another interesting story. A year before this idiot was strolling down Martin Street with another Blood Gang member. This other guy, for no apparent reason, was waiving a pistol around and screaming, "Everybody know me, yo!" While he's screaming he fires the pistol repeatedly in the air and then brings it back down. Only he forgets to stop pulling the trigger and shoots this guy, his best friend, in the chest. The medical examiner digs the bullet out.
Crazy Man
Nothing snaps me back to reality like dealing with a fresh dose of "crazy." Yesterday, a concerned son (and by concerned I mean someone who reported his father might attempt suicide but refused to bring a key over so we could check on his welfare) called for our help. We get there and knock on the door for ten minutes before he finally opened up. I asked, "Can we come in?"
His response, "Not without a warrant, cop!" His black hair was plastered to his head and his glasses looked like Michael Douglas a la "Falling Down." In fact, the best way I can describe this guy is that he looked just like the crazy scientist in "Repo Man." And he was even crazier.
"Hey, guy, we just want to come in and make sure everybody is okay inside the apartment. Your son called and said you were having problems."
"Are you in the military?" He asks. He is sweating profusely.
"No."
"Aha!" He exclaims. Do you want to help the soldiers with body armor?"
"Of course," I reply. "Look, I don't want to disturb you any further. I don't want to search your home or anything like that, I just want to make sure everyone's safe."
"I'm going to China. I want to be a communist!" He giggles nervously.
"I strongly suggest it," I reply. "You should get your passport immediately."
To make a long story short, the guy's apartment is full of nonsensical clutter. Magazines, Twinkies wrappers, party balloons, dirty clothing, strange stains, etc. Things that really don't make sense together, like a toilet plunger balanced atop a lamp. He would have been the perfect candidate for that Saturday Night Live commercial advertising a car perfectly designed for crazy people. I remember the commentator saying, "The trunk is spacious, easily holding 144 Mason jars filled with urine." Just what every nut needs.
His response, "Not without a warrant, cop!" His black hair was plastered to his head and his glasses looked like Michael Douglas a la "Falling Down." In fact, the best way I can describe this guy is that he looked just like the crazy scientist in "Repo Man." And he was even crazier.
"Hey, guy, we just want to come in and make sure everybody is okay inside the apartment. Your son called and said you were having problems."
"Are you in the military?" He asks. He is sweating profusely.
"No."
"Aha!" He exclaims. Do you want to help the soldiers with body armor?"
"Of course," I reply. "Look, I don't want to disturb you any further. I don't want to search your home or anything like that, I just want to make sure everyone's safe."
"I'm going to China. I want to be a communist!" He giggles nervously.
"I strongly suggest it," I reply. "You should get your passport immediately."
To make a long story short, the guy's apartment is full of nonsensical clutter. Magazines, Twinkies wrappers, party balloons, dirty clothing, strange stains, etc. Things that really don't make sense together, like a toilet plunger balanced atop a lamp. He would have been the perfect candidate for that Saturday Night Live commercial advertising a car perfectly designed for crazy people. I remember the commentator saying, "The trunk is spacious, easily holding 144 Mason jars filled with urine." Just what every nut needs.
Sunday, June 22, 2008
Gay Old Man
On the 6000 block of Glenwood Avenue are a variety of stores. Walmart, Chick Filet, Smoker Friendly, and Big Lots are just a few. Then there are the more sordid establishments. Pegasus Video is a gay porno shop. Why is it these establishment are frequented mainly by older white guys, most of which I see wearing wedding rings.
I'm stopped at the stop sign near Pep Boys when I see grandpa sneaky pulling in. He's wearing a spiffy little street hat, a yellow Polo Shirt, and plaid shorts. A sparkling watch glimmers as he saunters across the parking lot, smiling. I see the wedding ring.
Somehow he's rationalized that having gay sex in a porno booth with an anonymous stranger doesn't really count as cheating on his wife. I mean, just ask Senator Larry Craig.
I'm stopped at the stop sign near Pep Boys when I see grandpa sneaky pulling in. He's wearing a spiffy little street hat, a yellow Polo Shirt, and plaid shorts. A sparkling watch glimmers as he saunters across the parking lot, smiling. I see the wedding ring.
Somehow he's rationalized that having gay sex in a porno booth with an anonymous stranger doesn't really count as cheating on his wife. I mean, just ask Senator Larry Craig.
Migrant Lunch
Neighbors call the police when three Mexican men trespass on the property of a north Raleigh home. The men, unbeknownst to the neighbors, were soliciting work. They parked on the street, approached the home, knocked on the door, and peered in through the windows. Anyone seeing this could only assume they were casing the home for a burglary. Only they weren't.
I guess it was about lunch time, so the three men figured it would be a good idea to sit in the front yard of the home and eat a nice lunch of cactus and peach nectar. The neighbors called the police and converged on the scene, blocking the Hispanic men's truck in.
We get there and the scene is very amusing. Three Mexicans sitting in the grass, casually eating lunch as if there weren't a posse of middle-aged white people blocking their truck in. I think the neighbors wanted us to cart them off, flog them, douse them in gasoline, and set them on fire. But, of course, they had no intentions of committing a crime. They just have no concept of normal etiquette.
I guess it was about lunch time, so the three men figured it would be a good idea to sit in the front yard of the home and eat a nice lunch of cactus and peach nectar. The neighbors called the police and converged on the scene, blocking the Hispanic men's truck in.
We get there and the scene is very amusing. Three Mexicans sitting in the grass, casually eating lunch as if there weren't a posse of middle-aged white people blocking their truck in. I think the neighbors wanted us to cart them off, flog them, douse them in gasoline, and set them on fire. But, of course, they had no intentions of committing a crime. They just have no concept of normal etiquette.
Suspicious Garbage
I get a call to Brier Creek concerning a suspicious item. Evidently, the complainant found a suspicious looking bag on the sidewalk in front of his home. I get there and examine the bag. It's an empty Macy's bag. I see another one about fifty yards up the street. Obviously the bags either blew out of a vehicle or were dragged down the street by some kid. But I guess this guy wanted some sort of criminal investigation of the garbage. The garbage scared him. Maybe he had some sort of traumatic experience as a child during which one or both of his parents stuffed him in a dumpster. Too bad he got out.
Saturday, June 21, 2008
Wong Answer
Last week a N.C. State Trooper was killed by a pathetic piece of shit named Edwardo Wong. Mr. Wong had close to twenty prior felonies, including a prior attempted murder charge where he shot another cop. Luckily the first cop survived. But why would they let this guy out? This type of crap is why I loathe activists. These people crybaby to judges and parole boards. "His childhood was very hard. His daddy didn't love him. They didn't have enough money." And some liberal sissy lets Edwardo out of prison, as if he's not just going to go out and murder somebody.
He should have been boiled down in a vat of acid. If someone would shoot a cop, they'd certainly shoot the average citizen. I'm sick of second chances and pity for the bad guy. If you hurt someone or stuff a gun in someone's face, they should do the world a favor and put a bullet in your head.
He should have been boiled down in a vat of acid. If someone would shoot a cop, they'd certainly shoot the average citizen. I'm sick of second chances and pity for the bad guy. If you hurt someone or stuff a gun in someone's face, they should do the world a favor and put a bullet in your head.
Monday, June 16, 2008
Custody Fight
I'm called to an elementary school by the principal. The call notes advise an out-of-state mother is trying to sign her children, who haven't stayed with her in years, out of class. She intends to take them back to Indiana for the summer. The father and his new girlfriend are at the school. They don't want her to have the children.
I arrive and speak with dad. He and his girlfriend seem reasonable. He tells me his ex-wife tried to commit suicide two years ago with the children in the house at the time. He says she's in a Narcotics Anonymous group and under the care of a psychiatrist. He says, since the attempted suicide, he's kept the children with him and she's only had two supervised visits. Unfortunately he's never modified the custody agreement, which says she gets the children from June 11th through August 1st.
I then speak with the principal, who is young and stressed out. He's called the school superintendant, who is calling their attorneys. He wants to wait until he gets clarification as to who should get the children. Clarification from people sitting in an office somewhere who have no idea what's going on.
He leads me to the mother. She's sitting in a chair, twitching her lips. In two seconds I can tell something is wrong with her. She's "tweaking" like someone ready for a fix. I ask her a few questions and the following comes out. She tried to kill herself two years ago, but her ex-husband is not telling the truth because, although the kids were with her, her roomate was also their to supervise the kids. So they would have been taken care of if she died (and this makes it alright). She is unemployed, living with friends, and recently left the care of her psychiatrist, against his wishes. She also decided to take herself off all of her medications. She tells me the meds were the problem. "Now that I'm not seeing a doctor or taking meds, everything's fine! I just want to take the kids for the summer." She's smiling like someone who might just bake the kids in a pie.
While I get her statement the husband decides to sign the kids out and leave. The agreement is a copy from another state, therefore we really can't intervene (nor would I want to). Amazingly, the principal sprints across the parking lot and stands behind the moving vehicle. I ask him what he's doing. He tells me he has to wait until the bureaucrats tell him what to do. I tell him to get out of the path of the vehicle. I can see he's visibly relieved that I've essentially taken him out of the equation, because making a decision is more than anyone can bear these days. I mean, what if you're wrong?
He later told me the bureaucrats had decided to let the insane woman take the kids in accordance with the agreement, even though it was a copy without a notary seal, barely readable, and held by a grinning psychotic.
I arrive and speak with dad. He and his girlfriend seem reasonable. He tells me his ex-wife tried to commit suicide two years ago with the children in the house at the time. He says she's in a Narcotics Anonymous group and under the care of a psychiatrist. He says, since the attempted suicide, he's kept the children with him and she's only had two supervised visits. Unfortunately he's never modified the custody agreement, which says she gets the children from June 11th through August 1st.
I then speak with the principal, who is young and stressed out. He's called the school superintendant, who is calling their attorneys. He wants to wait until he gets clarification as to who should get the children. Clarification from people sitting in an office somewhere who have no idea what's going on.
He leads me to the mother. She's sitting in a chair, twitching her lips. In two seconds I can tell something is wrong with her. She's "tweaking" like someone ready for a fix. I ask her a few questions and the following comes out. She tried to kill herself two years ago, but her ex-husband is not telling the truth because, although the kids were with her, her roomate was also their to supervise the kids. So they would have been taken care of if she died (and this makes it alright). She is unemployed, living with friends, and recently left the care of her psychiatrist, against his wishes. She also decided to take herself off all of her medications. She tells me the meds were the problem. "Now that I'm not seeing a doctor or taking meds, everything's fine! I just want to take the kids for the summer." She's smiling like someone who might just bake the kids in a pie.
While I get her statement the husband decides to sign the kids out and leave. The agreement is a copy from another state, therefore we really can't intervene (nor would I want to). Amazingly, the principal sprints across the parking lot and stands behind the moving vehicle. I ask him what he's doing. He tells me he has to wait until the bureaucrats tell him what to do. I tell him to get out of the path of the vehicle. I can see he's visibly relieved that I've essentially taken him out of the equation, because making a decision is more than anyone can bear these days. I mean, what if you're wrong?
He later told me the bureaucrats had decided to let the insane woman take the kids in accordance with the agreement, even though it was a copy without a notary seal, barely readable, and held by a grinning psychotic.
Everything Happens For A Reason
I couldn't be any more sick of these idiots that proclaim, "Everything happens for a reason." Guess what? Very little happens for a reason. I'm so tired of this. Assigning some divine purpose for their mistakes? I can't tell you how many drunk drivers have told me everything happens for a reason. As if Yahweh commanded them to suck down a gallon of Pabst and then crash into a telephone pole. That's what their God is reduced to? When I farted five minutes ago, was that his divine will? Is he so bored he's reduced to micromanaging my bladder? If there were a God that passed his time controlling every minute detail of the universe, I would choose to ignore him for that very reason.
Miscellaneous Absurdity
I had court last week. Court is amusing in that there are always in excess of three hundred people shoe-horned into a room designed for two hundred, all in a hurry to dispose of or continue their cases. Unfortunately for them court is the slowest process ever designed. The same thing happens every month. They sit for hours on wooden benches before being told their cases are "not reached" and to come back the next month. Sore assed and angry, they leave dissatisfied. I can't help but appreciate the humor.
One of my coworkers, an amorphous blob who has a Myspace page full of pictures from a time when he wasn't morbidly obese, sits several seats down from me. I watch as pit stains creep down his shirt, fascinated by their flow. After four hours they reach his floating rib, an amazing accomplishment.
The next day I go for my morning coffee at Starbucks. An old man is waiting to go inside as I pull up. Get this, he's wearing a checkered button up short sleeve shirt with the top button fastened, plaid shorts that in no way match the shirt, and black shoes. But most disturbing are his sock pants. That's right, sock pants! The guy has bright white socks that actually cover his knees. They look like leggings a dancer might wear, only he's seventy and sporting a Santa beard.
Finally, several hours later, I go to BP for a Monster Energy. Inside I notice a line of about eight people waiting to pay. At the front of the line is a maniac. He has an assortment of items on the counter: Pork Skins, Disposable Razors, Superglue, WD-40, Chewing Gum, Root Beer, Gold Bond Foot Powder, Nasal Spray, etc. A bunch of items that, when viewed together, don't make logical sense. He sees me and immediately says, "Hey officer, do you know Davis?"
"No," I say.
"Really, you don't know Davis?"
"No."
He walks back to where I'm standing and points to my name tag. "Hines, is it? I saw Greg Hines dancing down the boulevard earlier today. Marvelous dancer."
"Don't know him."
"You don't know Greg Hines? Very popular dancer."
"You mean, Gregory Hines, the tap dancer?" I say.
"Yeah, yeah, Gregory Hines. I saw him earlier."
"I think he died several years ago, buddy. So if you saw him, you might want to consider getting some sort of help."
He strolls back up to the front of the line, smiling like a jackass. "What do you think?" He addresses the clerk. "What kind of cigarette do you think I should smoke. I've heard a lot about those Marlboros, but I see people smoking Winstons also. What do you think?"
The Nigerian clerk is not amused. "I don't care. Can you please hurry up?"
"Yeah," a random customer in line exclaims. "Hurry up, I gotta get back to work."
Crazy man reaches down and picks up a combo pack of Grizzly Chewing Tobacco in a cardboard case. Evidently it comes with a Grizzly pocket knife, all for the low price of $7.99. "This is a nice knife. I have a knife that looks like this." He looks back at me. "My knife looks a lot like this. Is that okay? If you pull me over I don't want to get arrested for it."
I don't say anything.
"I'm buying this for you, officer. What was it, Hines? You look intimidating with those sunglasses on. Can I?" He walks toward me. "I just want to get up under those glasses to see what I'm dealing with."
"Get away from me," I say.
"Ha, ha, ha..." He laughs for an unreasonably long period of time. "I get it. You know Davis. Ha. Alright." He turns back to the clerk. "Here you go," he says, handing a credit card to the angry Nigerian. The man swipes the card and it is immediately declined. "Oh, sorry, wrong card," he says, handing the man a second card. It is also declined. The clerk looks like he' s ready to commit murder. Finally the guy pulls out a third card and pays. He walks out waiving at everyone waiting in line. "Hope to see all of you again, soon."
I watch to make sure he doesn't get into a car, as I'm sure he'd crash it in mere seconds. He saunters off on foot toward a local crappy hotel. I pay for my soda and turn to leave. The clerk addresses me. "Hey, I think you forgot this." He holds up the Grizzly Chewing Tobacco combo pack.
"What?" I ask.
"The guy bought this for you. It's yours."
"I don't chew tobacco, sir. And I don't want anything that guy touched. Give it to someone who chews." I leave the store thoroughly confused.
One of my coworkers, an amorphous blob who has a Myspace page full of pictures from a time when he wasn't morbidly obese, sits several seats down from me. I watch as pit stains creep down his shirt, fascinated by their flow. After four hours they reach his floating rib, an amazing accomplishment.
The next day I go for my morning coffee at Starbucks. An old man is waiting to go inside as I pull up. Get this, he's wearing a checkered button up short sleeve shirt with the top button fastened, plaid shorts that in no way match the shirt, and black shoes. But most disturbing are his sock pants. That's right, sock pants! The guy has bright white socks that actually cover his knees. They look like leggings a dancer might wear, only he's seventy and sporting a Santa beard.
Finally, several hours later, I go to BP for a Monster Energy. Inside I notice a line of about eight people waiting to pay. At the front of the line is a maniac. He has an assortment of items on the counter: Pork Skins, Disposable Razors, Superglue, WD-40, Chewing Gum, Root Beer, Gold Bond Foot Powder, Nasal Spray, etc. A bunch of items that, when viewed together, don't make logical sense. He sees me and immediately says, "Hey officer, do you know Davis?"
"No," I say.
"Really, you don't know Davis?"
"No."
He walks back to where I'm standing and points to my name tag. "Hines, is it? I saw Greg Hines dancing down the boulevard earlier today. Marvelous dancer."
"Don't know him."
"You don't know Greg Hines? Very popular dancer."
"You mean, Gregory Hines, the tap dancer?" I say.
"Yeah, yeah, Gregory Hines. I saw him earlier."
"I think he died several years ago, buddy. So if you saw him, you might want to consider getting some sort of help."
He strolls back up to the front of the line, smiling like a jackass. "What do you think?" He addresses the clerk. "What kind of cigarette do you think I should smoke. I've heard a lot about those Marlboros, but I see people smoking Winstons also. What do you think?"
The Nigerian clerk is not amused. "I don't care. Can you please hurry up?"
"Yeah," a random customer in line exclaims. "Hurry up, I gotta get back to work."
Crazy man reaches down and picks up a combo pack of Grizzly Chewing Tobacco in a cardboard case. Evidently it comes with a Grizzly pocket knife, all for the low price of $7.99. "This is a nice knife. I have a knife that looks like this." He looks back at me. "My knife looks a lot like this. Is that okay? If you pull me over I don't want to get arrested for it."
I don't say anything.
"I'm buying this for you, officer. What was it, Hines? You look intimidating with those sunglasses on. Can I?" He walks toward me. "I just want to get up under those glasses to see what I'm dealing with."
"Get away from me," I say.
"Ha, ha, ha..." He laughs for an unreasonably long period of time. "I get it. You know Davis. Ha. Alright." He turns back to the clerk. "Here you go," he says, handing a credit card to the angry Nigerian. The man swipes the card and it is immediately declined. "Oh, sorry, wrong card," he says, handing the man a second card. It is also declined. The clerk looks like he' s ready to commit murder. Finally the guy pulls out a third card and pays. He walks out waiving at everyone waiting in line. "Hope to see all of you again, soon."
I watch to make sure he doesn't get into a car, as I'm sure he'd crash it in mere seconds. He saunters off on foot toward a local crappy hotel. I pay for my soda and turn to leave. The clerk addresses me. "Hey, I think you forgot this." He holds up the Grizzly Chewing Tobacco combo pack.
"What?" I ask.
"The guy bought this for you. It's yours."
"I don't chew tobacco, sir. And I don't want anything that guy touched. Give it to someone who chews." I leave the store thoroughly confused.
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
Top Button
I've run across a disturbing new fashion trend. It seems morbidly obese people are wearing short sleeve shirts with the top collar button fastened. Why? I can't explain it. I saw a massive Hispanic fellow stuffed in a Polo like pork sausage in an intestine. His top button was fastened, which appeared to be cutting off the circulation to his head.
Please, unreasonably large people, don't perpetuate this trend.
Please, unreasonably large people, don't perpetuate this trend.
Wednesday, June 4, 2008
Faster Please
I work part time at a Mental Health Assessment Center. In the past I worked for several Mental Health Facilities as a "Technician," or better termed goon. I assisted in restraining out of control patients while the Pscyh-Nurse administered sedatives. Currently I'm just in uniform to prevent violence against the staff.
A current trend I've encountered for some time now disturbs me. Drug dependant patients come in droves. Many are not insured. What's funny is the assessment center takes a lot of time with each case. They have to call hospitals, arrange a variety of services, and call a magistrate to generate commitment papers. It can be quite a wait.
People get belligerent with the staff. They come in, demand free service, and then complain about how long their free service is taking. Can you believe it? My free service isn't fast enough. I want immediate gratification with my free service.
A current trend I've encountered for some time now disturbs me. Drug dependant patients come in droves. Many are not insured. What's funny is the assessment center takes a lot of time with each case. They have to call hospitals, arrange a variety of services, and call a magistrate to generate commitment papers. It can be quite a wait.
People get belligerent with the staff. They come in, demand free service, and then complain about how long their free service is taking. Can you believe it? My free service isn't fast enough. I want immediate gratification with my free service.
LARPing is Gay
Do I even need to comment on this picture. I was tooling around on Youtube and ran across several LARP (Live Action Role Playing for those not in the know) videos. I don't even think I need to make a joke here, but I can't seem to help myself.
1) Why are all the people engaging in combat ridiculously fat?
2) Is this some kind of continuation of the Renaissance Fair? Only gayer?
3) I'll bet money these people were trying to speak with thick English accents. Evidently, in fantasy world, everybody speaks with an English accent.
I'll bet these are the same schmucks I saw dressed in character for the premiere of The Lord Of The Rings. I expect to see one of these guys no A&E's Intervention in the near future. Maybe have the guy's family waiting for him on the couch. "Hey Tommy, we're here to tell you we can't go on living like this. You're not an Ogre! You're a morbidly obese High School dropout. "
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