Even by my own standards of complaining about everything, what's next is old-man-shouting-at-the-clouds stuff, but certain clouds must be yelled at.
In the office, I hear those six notes in the distance twenty times daily, and on the bus to and from work, another twenty times. Six notes, over and over, all day every day and probably on a perpetual replay in the afterlife, when messages really can't get through.
Meanwhile, could you please download a different ringtone than the annoying default?
Once in a while I crave a Whopper at Burger King, before remembering that Burger King doesn't really have Whoppers any more. They've been shrunk like a cheap t-shirt washed in hot water.
Wikipedia's history of the Whopper claims Whoppers were bigger from 1985-87, but that mismatches my memory. The Whopper was a big hamburger as recently as the 2010s. Whoppers were the biggest and arguably best fast-food burger. The name Whopper wasn't a joke.
Now it's a joke, a disappointment every time I forget and buy one. It's a Junior Whopper, literally — bigger than a basic burger, yeah, but no longer big and certainly not a "whopper."
One more cloud to shout at:
BK also sells a fish sandwich called the BK Big Fish, and dang, I used to like it. Big Fish was once an appropriate name, because it was made with the same big bun as the Whopper, but like the Whopper, it's been shrunken.
My bus home from work goes past a Burger King, so these thoughts are on my mind nightly. It's like going past an ex-girlfriend's house, though — there's nothing for me there, not any more.
You know the dream where you go to work or school like it's a normal day, but when you get there you realize you've forgotten to wear any clothes?
The closest it's come to coming true was one morning a few weeks ago when I'd showered the night before and slept in my thermal underwear — nice, warm thermal underwear that felt like pants.
I'm never much awake until I've had a couple of caffeine pills, and I hadn't yet, so I put on shoes and a shirt and a light coat, slipped a mask onto my face and my bus pass around my neck, locked the door, stepped outside, and made it almost all the way to the bus stop before my legs felt chilly in the spring air, and I bounded home to add a pair of pants to my ensemble.
News you need,
whether you know it or not
• Get a Tesla if you want to learn about AI trying to kill you, says Apple co-founder Steve Wozniak
• "Too greedy": mass walkout at global science journal over "unethical" fees
• Mercedes locks better EV engine performance behind subscription paywalls
• Google Ads promote trojanized versions of ChatGPT, Zoom, Cisco software
• Minnesota lighthouse relit for Lightfoot
• Tail of the Yak will yak no more, which is bad news. It was a cool place.
• Insect numbers are on the decline
• Climate change powered the Mediterranean's unusual heat wave
• Fungal attacks threaten global food supply, say experts
• Virginia's probe into State Police hiring of "catfish cop" ends with no report, no comment
• Tyre Nichols died of blunt force injuries to the head from his beating, autopsy shows
• Suspended sentence for cop guilty of arson, fraud & animal cruelty
• Excessive force, cover-ups: LAPD whistleblower expands "SWAT Mafia" allegations
• Scandal swirling around Clarence Thomas deepens (but will soon be forgotten)
• The rising Republican movement to defund public libraries
• Kari Lake's lawyers fined for false claims about Arizona election
Mystery links
There's no knowing where you're going
• Click • Click • Click •
• Click • Click •
My browser history
without the porn
• Remembering the Golden Rule, first ship to sail against armageddon
• Baseball's last dive bar: Farewell to the crumbling Oakland Coliseum
• Who watches the philosopher kings with lifetime appointments?
• The true story that inspired Dead Ringers
• Rocky Horror's skeleton clock
♫♬ It don't mean a thing ♫
if it don't have that swing
• Don't You Forget About Me — Simple Minds
• I Am a Rock — Simon & Garfunkel
• Trouble Every Day — Frank Zappa & the Mothers of Invention
• Who Woulda Thunk It? — Greg Brown
Eventually, everyone
leaves the building
5/7/2023
Cranky Old Fart is annoyed and complains and very occasionally offers a kindness, along with anything off the internet that's made me smile or snarl. All opinions fresh from my ass. Top illustration by Jeff Meyer. Click any image to enlarge. Comments & conversations invited.
Tip 'o the hat to ye olde AVA, BoingBoing, Breakfast at Ralf's, CaptCreate's Log, Dumnezero, Katameme, Looking for My Perfect Sandwich, One Finger Medical, Two Finger Magical, Miss Miriam's Mirror, Nebulously Burnished, RanPrieur.com, Voenix Rising, and anywhere else I've stolen links, illustrations, or inspiration.
Special thanks to Linden Arden, Becky Jo, Wynn Bruce, Joey Jo Jo, John the Basket, Dave S, Name Withheld, and always extra special thanks to my lovely late Stephanie, who gave me 21 years and proved that the world isn't always shitty.
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