Sunday, August 08, 2004
(I usually try to keep the posts G rated, but I think that this one has slipped into PG-13. Maybe past it. Sorry folks. I'll be back to G-gollies tomorrow.)
You know, maybe Jake's got it right. The Hippy's has had some problems with some little troll trying to get a rise out of folks there. He's tried to crack on Evil Hippy and threatened to mess with Tommy's site. At worst, that'll only make them delete the comment option. It won't shut them up. That'll interrupt the whole discussion on those sites. Many of which are just as entertaining as the posts. I don't mind people being a-holes, just don't do on other people's sites. I've thought about setting up my own site so that I can be one every now and then, but never would I ever mess with anyone else's site. The problem is that the discussion shows that it got under all three of our skins. This only encourages it to happen more. Man, a couple of pricks spoil the whole party. Sometimes I wonder if Al Gore ever envisioned this stuff when he invented the internet. If he had, I don't think he would have invented it.
Of course, this thing sort of applies to what's been going on at BTCA. There's this new guy. Honestly, he's pretty worthless, but we've all been there. He's 18 years old. Young, dumb, and full of, well, something that rhymes with dumb. The guys found out his middle name is Galen. Big deal. When I see him, some one says, "Hey Gunny, do you know what (MR. McX)'s name is?"
"Yeah, it's Galen." I pronounce it like I heard it. I pronounce it Gay-len. I think nothing of it. After all, that's how I've always heard it. "How did you get the name Galen? (Gay-len)"
He smirks.
"He got it from his grandfather."
"That's a pretty unusual name, Galen. (Gay-len) Was your grandfather an immigrant?" After all, his name is McX. I would think that's a fine Scottish name, Galen McX.
He smirks.
I respond with, "Look dude, if someone asks you a question answer it. If you just smirk, they'll think you're lying or up to something."
"I think Gunny's being serious"
"Of course, he's being serious."
McX responds with, "It's not Galen. (Gay-len)"
A little annoyed, I say, "Then what is it?"
"It's Galen. (Gal-en)"
Then some argument ensues about why that's not a proper pronunciation. I think, "Whatever, It's his name. He can pronounce it with a Q, an R, and a T for all I care. That kids got to learn how to not let people under his skin."
Reminded me of a story in high school. (I mean other than The Scarlet Letter. Where the eff is the book?)
I haven't always been Gunny. One day when I was just a freshman in study hall, a junior was complaining about the dogs in her neighborhood. I asked her if she said dogs? She said that these dogs just run around in her neighborhood as if there wasn't a leash law. I thought, "Gee whiz, what would she think if she saw my street. We've got almost everything there." Always think before you open your mouth.
I said, "well, on my street we've got dogs, cats, horses, cattle, pigs, ducks, turkeys, rabbits and chickens."
One of the seniors said, "You've got chickens?"
"Yeah"
"Chickens?"
"Yeah"
"Chickenman!" From then till the day I graduated, I was known as Chickenman Walker. No joke. Oh, I quickly informed people, that I did not own chickens. Eventually, I gave up and let them call me Chickenman. It worked to my advantage though. It changed me for the better. When I was a freshman I was a dork. (Hell, sometimes I am STILL a dork.) The seniors would cluck as I walked down the hall. No joke. Cluck and holler out "Chickenman." Eventually it was shortened to Chicken.
One day, a teacher said to me, "I can always tell when you're coming down the hall. I can hear the clucking."
I smiled and said "Yeah, It's nice to know that people think I'm important enough that they have to announce my arrival." He just smiled and patted me on the back.
You see that's the point. If you can turn it around, then it's powerless. It some how makes you cooler. Even if people think you're chicken.
A few years back at Don Pablo's a waitress approached me. She said, "I know you. You're Chicken aren't you?" I'd been out of school for six or seven years, but I made that much of an impression. I didn't play ball, or run for an office, or was even that social. I was just Chicken. I still think back on that and smile. That's the whole point of The Scarlet Letter. It says that no matter what stupid thing you've done, you can still manage to turn out to be a pretty great person. Every one has problems, the trick is to learn how to get past them.
Sorry for the long post, but I love telling that story. Good night folks. (If you've never seen or read The Scarlet Letter then you should do it. It's great.)
You know, maybe Jake's got it right. The Hippy's has had some problems with some little troll trying to get a rise out of folks there. He's tried to crack on Evil Hippy and threatened to mess with Tommy's site. At worst, that'll only make them delete the comment option. It won't shut them up. That'll interrupt the whole discussion on those sites. Many of which are just as entertaining as the posts. I don't mind people being a-holes, just don't do on other people's sites. I've thought about setting up my own site so that I can be one every now and then, but never would I ever mess with anyone else's site. The problem is that the discussion shows that it got under all three of our skins. This only encourages it to happen more. Man, a couple of pricks spoil the whole party. Sometimes I wonder if Al Gore ever envisioned this stuff when he invented the internet. If he had, I don't think he would have invented it.
Of course, this thing sort of applies to what's been going on at BTCA. There's this new guy. Honestly, he's pretty worthless, but we've all been there. He's 18 years old. Young, dumb, and full of, well, something that rhymes with dumb. The guys found out his middle name is Galen. Big deal. When I see him, some one says, "Hey Gunny, do you know what (MR. McX)'s name is?"
"Yeah, it's Galen." I pronounce it like I heard it. I pronounce it Gay-len. I think nothing of it. After all, that's how I've always heard it. "How did you get the name Galen? (Gay-len)"
He smirks.
"He got it from his grandfather."
"That's a pretty unusual name, Galen. (Gay-len) Was your grandfather an immigrant?" After all, his name is McX. I would think that's a fine Scottish name, Galen McX.
He smirks.
I respond with, "Look dude, if someone asks you a question answer it. If you just smirk, they'll think you're lying or up to something."
"I think Gunny's being serious"
"Of course, he's being serious."
McX responds with, "It's not Galen. (Gay-len)"
A little annoyed, I say, "Then what is it?"
"It's Galen. (Gal-en)"
Then some argument ensues about why that's not a proper pronunciation. I think, "Whatever, It's his name. He can pronounce it with a Q, an R, and a T for all I care. That kids got to learn how to not let people under his skin."
Reminded me of a story in high school. (I mean other than The Scarlet Letter. Where the eff is the book?)
I haven't always been Gunny. One day when I was just a freshman in study hall, a junior was complaining about the dogs in her neighborhood. I asked her if she said dogs? She said that these dogs just run around in her neighborhood as if there wasn't a leash law. I thought, "Gee whiz, what would she think if she saw my street. We've got almost everything there." Always think before you open your mouth.
I said, "well, on my street we've got dogs, cats, horses, cattle, pigs, ducks, turkeys, rabbits and chickens."
One of the seniors said, "You've got chickens?"
"Yeah"
"Chickens?"
"Yeah"
"Chickenman!" From then till the day I graduated, I was known as Chickenman Walker. No joke. Oh, I quickly informed people, that I did not own chickens. Eventually, I gave up and let them call me Chickenman. It worked to my advantage though. It changed me for the better. When I was a freshman I was a dork. (Hell, sometimes I am STILL a dork.) The seniors would cluck as I walked down the hall. No joke. Cluck and holler out "Chickenman." Eventually it was shortened to Chicken.
One day, a teacher said to me, "I can always tell when you're coming down the hall. I can hear the clucking."
I smiled and said "Yeah, It's nice to know that people think I'm important enough that they have to announce my arrival." He just smiled and patted me on the back.
You see that's the point. If you can turn it around, then it's powerless. It some how makes you cooler. Even if people think you're chicken.
A few years back at Don Pablo's a waitress approached me. She said, "I know you. You're Chicken aren't you?" I'd been out of school for six or seven years, but I made that much of an impression. I didn't play ball, or run for an office, or was even that social. I was just Chicken. I still think back on that and smile. That's the whole point of The Scarlet Letter. It says that no matter what stupid thing you've done, you can still manage to turn out to be a pretty great person. Every one has problems, the trick is to learn how to get past them.
Sorry for the long post, but I love telling that story. Good night folks. (If you've never seen or read The Scarlet Letter then you should do it. It's great.)
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