I have no idea if this is true or not. I’ve done some digging and can’t find anything to either verify or deny it. Regardless, I think it’s funny.

A group of Americans, retired teachers, recently went to France on a tour. Robert Whiting, an elderly gentleman of 83, arrived in Paris by plane. At French Customs, he took a few minutes to locate his passport in his carry on. “You have been to France before, monsieur?” the customs officer asked sarcastically.

Mr. Whiting admitted that he had been to France previously.

“Then you should know enough to have your passport ready.”

The American said, “The last time I was here, I didn’t have to show it.”

“Impossible. Americans always have to show your passports on arrival in France!”

The American senior gave the Frenchman a long hard look. Then he quietly explained. “Well, when I came ashore at Omaha Beach on D-Day in ’44 to help liberate this country, I couldn’t find any Frenchmen to show it to.”

There are many people who have a special place just waiting for them in Hell. Here are a few:

Dona and Ivan, the sick, twisted common-law couple who have abused a 6-month old baby almost beyond comprehension. These two need to fry. [Read the story]

The bastards who strapped a bomb on a child with Down Syndrome and blew him up on election day in Iraq. [Read the story]

The brother-sister pair that killed their grandparents and then their mother because she wouldn’t go along with their plan. [Read the story]

The pathetic thugs that abducted and then killed a ten-year-old girl because she saw them making meth near her home in a small Indiana town. [Read the story]

Ah, hell. I could go on, but why? What I’d like to know – and what I’d like you to share with me – are stories of good things happening to people. These can be stories you tell or links, I don’t care. I could just really use some good news…

I suppose it was bound to happen. Couple the power of the Internet with the wrath of a woman (or man) scorned, and you get Bitter Waitress. This site provides the disgruntled waiter in your life with the ability to bitch and moan about you – and if that wasn’t enough – post your name in their appropriately named “Shitty Tipper Database“. Most of the entries regale in tales of famous people treating others badly, but it also includes a hefty amount of normal people acting like asses. Including Raymond Brown of New York who “…never tips more than a dollar regardless of the amount of the bill. Tonight he got in an argument with the bartender and left a quarter on the bar.” The bill was $24.75.

I couldn’t help but be reminded of a guy we used to work with who told us at lunch one day, “Yeah, I consider myself a big tipper.” He then went on to leave exactly twenty-five cents for the waiter. Of course, I called him on it, but the trouble with Brent was that I’m not sure he was capable of doing the math. Perchance we need a “Shitty Mathematician Database”?

During a recent interview, Prime Minister Tony Blair of Great Britain was quoted giving the following answer to one his parliament members as to why he believes so much in America and its President; and does he think they are on the right track?

Blair’s reply: “A simple way to take measure of a country is to look at… how many want in… and how many want to get out.”

Touché, Mr. Blair

We got a new car (well, really it’s an SUV and there’s nothing “new” about it, except that it now sits in my driveway instead of someone else’s.) Regardless, I logged on to the website of my insurance company to inform them we now had a new vehicle. I filled out a lengthy form, diligently including all of the information on the SUV, up to and including the VIN. You know the one I mean, it looks something like 3,000 random letters and numbers jumbled up and stamped on a piece of metal in a method that makes them nearly illegible.

So a few days later, I get an e-mail from my company informing me that they received my request to change my policy and instructed me to call them. So I did. And whilst on the phone with them, they ask, “Do you have the VIN?”

“Sure I do. And you do too, I sent it to you using your web site,” I replied.

“We don’t have it here. Can you provide it to me?”

Well, yes, but not right now. It’s on the truck. Which my wife drives, which is not with me because I’m at work, getting ever more irritated by the minute. Why make me include it on Lengthy Insurance Form 100-AA if they aren’t going to be using said form for the purposes of providing my insurance? Very irritating. Which reminds me of this…

So I called the phone company (SBC) the other day because I was having trouble with my Internet connection. When prompted, I entered my home phone number, my account number, and followed any number of prompts… “Press 7 to be connected with someone in a distant Asian call center who really couldn’t give a damn about your DSL line…”

When I finally began speaking with a human – who, in fact, actually was in a distant Asian call center and really didn’t give a damn about my DSL line. Who says you can’t trust a big corporation? – he asked me for my phone number and my account number. Why do I have to enter it using my touchpad if they’re going to ignore it completely? I suspect it has something to do with keeping me busy while they route the call from central Indiana to central India.

This happened again later when I called another company to report a problem.
“Press 1 if your faucet’s leaky.”
“Press 2 if you don’t like cabbage.”
“Press 3 if you can’t remember why you called.”

I went through the entire process (literally, several menus of selections) when the “human” picked up the phone and asked me (after I gave them my account number – again) what problems I was experiencing.

I told them I was experiencing an overwhelming desire to buy an foghorn and have it installed next to the phone, primarily for occasions just like these.