The Need For More Wrenches In The Machine

Fishing community leaders say Greenpeace’s action is dangerous and illegal.

Yeah, baby. Throw a wrench in it. Even though I eat seafood every once-a-once, I at least try to consume it responsibly. That said, it does bother me when I see grocery stores full of cans and cans and cans of pre-packed tuna or fresh scallops and layer upon layer of fish filets. So if I’m buying from a dealer for the first time I’ll usually request if the fish he sells is from responsible fisheries. Obviously the answer is ALWAYS “yes”. So how much is worst-writer supposed to do? Is not consuming the fish at all an option? Of course it is. Or. Maybe. We should just throw a friggin’ hammer in the whole Neo-feudal, pseudo-capitalist BS that has made things not unlike 17th or 18th century colonial #Eurowasteland. Or maybe not. And since I post this on a Friday, when I usually consume fish, what does it all matter? Then again, the story linked to here forgets to mention the UK dip$hittery of #Brexit, which just may turn that incestuous island into a freak show of epic starvation proportions–which means the dentally challenged, monarch-sucking morons might just have to eat all those luscious scallops just before cannibals come. Or maybe not.

Consume-to-survive, baby.

Rant on.


Source: Why Greenpeace is dropping huge boulders into the sea – BBC News

Pseudo-Review: Beamer Baby Boom

Title two: Review of the LG Cinebeam 1400 Lumen Wonder

As you may or may not know, dear worst-reader, I’m a typing nut. That’s right. Even though I’m not all-that interested in what’s been typed (by worst-moi), as long as I’m doing it, life’s almost good. The only other thing that’s better in life than typing… Wait for it. Wait for it. Are you guessing what I’m gonna say? Well, you’re wrong. It ain’t xes (spelled backwards). Only riding a motorcycle is better than typing, which I haven’t done for twenty years. Wow. Life can suck, eh! Anywho. What am I on about today?

Last summer as the COVID b.s. was hitting the $hit-fan here in good old Germania, my better half came up with the idear, even though we’re not allowed to have a TV in our living, that she was now willing to entertain a beamer–as long as it’s not hooked up to cable. For that’s the thing, dear worst-reader, we don’t watch TV. Wait. That’s ain’t quite right. Here, let me try that again.

Since the get-go in this relationship, we both decided that we don’t want any sort of TV connection and we especially don’t want a TV in our living room. As time has past, though, we have become more and more accustomed to all-things #Interwebnets. Meaning, of course, we watch movies and TV shows, we just don’t want to watch them via something that would/could be installed in our living room–that takes up space, kills time and uglyfies life. And so. That’s right. Our living room is a place where most of our reading and music listening takes place. At least it did, to my worst-surprise, until COVID and my better-half came up with the idear that it’s time to “entertain” a beamer.

Beamer of choice from the get-go has been one from LG. Reason? The bulb. The main mechanism of a beamer (projector) is how it produces the necessary light beam. This particular series of beamers uses a lighting source that is supposed to last for thirty-thousand hours. Other sources of lighting for these projectors have only hundreds of hours of capacity before the bulb has to be changed. An expense that sometimes nears the cost of the device itself. According to the limited research I did, including price shopping, that pretty much sealed the deal for the brand we ended up buying. But then I had to learn about the whole “lumen” thing. My better-half set a budget for such a device at about a thousand Euros. That may sound like a lot but I can assure it’s not. Also. Being el-cheap-o, I kinda knew I could get one for cheaper than that because I also knew that we didn’t need 4k video and 1080p would suffice. What to buy, what to buy, what to buy.

Our first-try was the pico beamer from LG that produced 600 Lumens and cost about 500€. I used it for about two weeks and although it wasn’t very bright, I was impressed with what it could do. Also, it was about the size of a Mac Mini which meant I could easily hang it from my bookshelf. But I ended up sending it back because of the limitations of wife-approval and wall space (we have flat, white walls so there is no need for a screen). The biggest problem I had with the pico beamer was that it couldn’t properly “keystone” the image it was projecting. Also. In the end my better-half was kinda peeved that I didn’t spend more money. Can you believe that?

Of the 1080p beamers being offered in the product range, I bought the next one up which just happened to be on sale from 1000 to 750€. It is a 1400 Lumen projector the size of a child’s shoebox and, of course, weighs a bit more than the pico device. As you can see from the pics above, though, the jimmied photography equipment I use to attach it to our bookshelf works just fine supporting it. Although it offers limited up-down, right-left keystone-ing, it is enough to project quite a large image on a perpendicular wall that is about ten feet away, which is another thing the pico couldn’t do. The difference between 600 and 1400 Lumens is also significant, which means, unlike the pico device, this one we can use in daylight. Meaning, unless we have bright sunny weather, we don’t have to pull down any shades to see the image. Evening movie watching with this thing is pretty impressive too when you consider the five figure cost of a hundred inch flat screen TV.

After just over a half year of use, I’m still very impressed with this beamer. Connected to an AppleTV4, where my better-half can access her German TV news and shows via apps, it works great. That means it’s also connected to our home network so we can project lots and lots of movies from our media server. But more important, when it’s not in use, we don’t have an empty black screen on a table top or attached to a wall that always begs to be turned on and thereby kill beautiful empty, minimalist space. Oh, and if you’re curious about all the trickery LG offers in this device, you’ll have to go else where. I’ve not messed with any of it. It’s literally only a screen for the AppleTV. As long as that works, I don’t give a hoot about the rest.

Rant (and consume) on.


The Edumacated

This is a screenshot of a headline.

In the game musical chairs players prance around chairs while music is playing. When the music stops prancers have to sit. The prancers who have not found a chair to sit in are removed from the game along with one chair. I suppose, in that vein, the game could also be called music, losers and a chair. But that’s neither here nor there.

In the game musical chairs, like life, perhaps, chairs are the/a limited resource for which prancers (consumers, corporatists, automatons, etc.) live. And so. The last person remaining who is sitting in a chair… Winner! If you’re not a delusional demon capable of comprehending the/a #MAGA hat BS, this game must remind you of something? But what?

What’s the point of such a game, dear worst-reader? Is it the superficiality of the superficial, i.e. childhood–where life was once or thrice fun? Or is it just plain $hits & giggles as a kind of foreplay for the big deal/fcuk that we all must eventually face–after we’re no longer useless eating but smile-baiting man-children? No. The point of such a game is the/a metaphor, don’t you know. In fact, according to the opinion article below, from that infamous newspaper of record, i.e. New York Times, musical chairs is the only game of life for which humans have evolved (or is it devolved). The reason most prancers are unable to figure this out is due to one systematic, collective, universal construct. That’s right, dear worst-reader.


Am I wrong?

Let’s worst-continue, shall we?

Actually, dear worst-reader, musical chairs isn’t mentioned once in the article I’m linking to (see below). Still, while reading the article, I couldn’t help but think of the game. Considering current events and how a bunch of morons on boats on a lake in Texas would/could not follow certain rules and thereby sinking their boats…

But I die-gress.

Oh yea. The game. The game’s the deal, eh, worst-reader? It’s the deal that is the lie of the mind that is also the joke that we call life–in a world that can only give rise to the likes of #Trump, #MAGA, and a country like my beloved & missed united mistakes of #Americant that has one of the universe’s newest and largest government agencies with the word Homeland, as in DHS. Are you $hitting giggles yet with all that edumacation? Is your boat still floating?

No. Seriously. If you’re not $hitting your dollar ridden pants-giggles right now because you live in what is supposed to be a free country but also a country that has a government agency and a society that only Orwell could have predicted…

But I die-gress.

What is the game we’re all being forced to play at the behest of a system run amok? Shall we call it the Merit game? At the least, musical chairs is a game where not much thought is required to play, which means a whole lot of people, whether deserving (merit) or not, seem to play with gusto. Still no echo of Orwell? How ’bout #Trump?

Yet the game is played on a mass scale as humanity progresses towards its demise, happy and $hitting and giggling, prominent and shrewd, callous and demeaning, #Americant: the covid-19 nation. And while that’s taking place there are some still out there thinking they need to measure and/or codify, hypothesise(?), label whether peoples of privileged means actually earn their keep. Indeed, dear worst-reader. Most peoples these days don’t/can’t earn their keep. For that’s the whole system, ain’t it. Getting on–on the backs of others–thereby not really having to do much–especially much worth anything akin to merit or education for that matter.

And so. Never having a creative thought. Unable to (intellectually) fight your way out of a wet paper bag. Brainless but with a bank account and/or a credit rating. Indeed. That’s what the over-edumacated do now. Thank the universe not only for all the fancy named degrees but for all those who earn those degrees and then go out there and give us… this, i.e. what we have, what we’re living in right now. Seriously. Trust me. As a comfortable loser of the game–who was/is able to get far enough away from it, you prancers are truly fcuked.

And one last thing from worst-writer regarding edumacation (which is what the article is almost about). The only reason for learning is exactly that. It’s not for degrees, for titles, for posturing, etc. Learning is to know when the shit has hit the fan and thereby stop throwing shit (at the fan) or get out of the way or get rid of the fan or or or. Anything that is not what we have. Also…

Education should simply NOT be a commodity.

And so. Finally. In worst-closing. Good luck suckers, especially you edumacated suckers that think all that college was worth it–because you can’t call it what it really is/was: indoctrination.

Is you as good as #Trump now?

Rant on.



Robot Vacuum Worst-Best Sucking Things Up

To avoid all my worst-writing and get straight to the pseudo-review, just scroll down a bit. Otherwise, good luck.

This consume-to-survive world/life is gettin’ to me, covid n’all. You too, dear worst-reader? I mean. Just the other day, after purchasing another one of them fancy-pants robot vacuum cleaners, after my previous über-expensive robot vacuum cleaner stopped working, I thought: what will be the last thing I ever buy? I mean. You know. Before I die, what will be my last purchase of this life? Which begs the worst-question: should it be something big and exuberant and gaudy? Even though the thought of buying a sailing yacht as a last purchase has crossed my mind, I’m starting to reconsider. For you see. Don’t you know. The dream-purchase of a yacht is two fold. First, it would be used to sail out to the middle of the Atlantic, once and for all. Once there I would hang out for a few days dancing and prancing in a state of glorious inebriation. After that I would pull the plug. You know, the plug at the bottom of every boat’s hull. And while the boat is filling with water, I will dawn my scuba gear and jump over board. While still on the surface, I’ll watch my last life-purchase sink and shed my last tears. Just as the hull breaches the water’s surface I commence to join it by grabbing the mast but continue breathing with my scuba gear as we go down. Now. Get this, dear worst-reader. This is my death fantasy combined with my last consume-to-survive purchase. And so. I commence a rapid descent along side my yacht and thereby watch my depth gauge. Once I surpass forty-five or so meters I then give way to my fate and submit to nitrogen narcosis, which, in my case, as I learned during a fifty meter dive in the Red Sea in 2010, sends me into a hissy-fit of giggling. Of course, since I enjoyed all those dreams of yachting across oceans for so long, it’s my hope that those same dreams will accompany me as my body submits to rapture of the deep. Without struggle or stress, the chemical imbalance of oxygen in my blood stream, at depth, sees to it that the lights finally go out and time stops and the misery that is a life that can give way to the likes of #Trump and #MAGA and the demise of my beloved & missed united mistakes of #Americant… to fascism… is finally over. Good night sweet prince.

All kidding aside. Since I ain’t never gonna afford no yacht, how ’bout we make my last purchase something akin to a last meal. But would mine include ice cream? Certainly not. It would be all about blue popcorn and watching the tale of a salamander as it wiggles (and giggles) hanging out of the beak of a horned rabbit… with Monty Python pointy teeth.


Today, dear worst-reader, we pseudo-review our new robot vacuum cleaner, the Neato D7. It is replacing our old iRobot 866 which we purchased in early 2016–or was it late 2015? Needless to say, I was very disappointed that our iRobot died. I’ve since ticked it away via that online auction service as “defect”, don’t you know. Good riddance. In fact, after a few years of use and being a device that I thought would hold up for a few more years, I can gladly admit that iRobot is on my shit-list. Indeed. The one good thing about being able to afford consume-to-survive purchase like this, is that I can also express my deep, deep disappointment in the corporate misnomer that some stuff that you think is quality ain’t really so. More on that in a sec.

The Neato D7 cleans better than the iRobot. It’s also quieter and is easier to maintain. The most important thing, though, is the Neato is much, much smarter than the iRobot. Although the Neato software sucks buckyballs, I’m slowly adapting to its inadequacies. That’s what software is all about, or? It’s never about what software can do. No. It’s always about the compromises made when using it. Am I wrong, Microsoft, Apple, etc.? Anywho. As of the writing of this worst-post Neato’s software cannot be used by multiple devices, i.e. two separate iPhones. Also. The iPhone app crashes here and there. The app interface reminds me of lost Windows 95 sys admins who may or may not have jumped ship. But before I get too far off subject. The first downer I noticed about the inadequate software is that it doesn’t run on two different iPhones. Well, it does. But then it breaks things. That is, when my wife tries to control the robot with her iPhone and then I try to access it later with my iPhone, the device becomes disoriented and is unable find its home base. Another downer about the software is that room mapping on multiple floors only works if you have multiple home bases, i.e. charging stations on each floor. WTF!


Oh yeah. The price. The Neato was on a special end of summer offer for 370,-€. Compared to the dumb-device cost of the iRobot from 2015 @ 699,-… that kinda makes the Neato a frickin‘ steal. Another notch in the hate-gun of iRobot? Nevermind.

Back to software krapp.

Although initial setup of the Neato’s room mapping was a bit cumbersome, requiring two hard resets, where the ground floor of our house had to be mapped twice, I eventually reached the point of… fcuk-it. If all else fails, I’ll forget the room mapping and just let it clean without it. That’s what the iRobot did. The biggest difference to the iRobot was that the Neato works as though it can see where it’s going. And that’s a big deal. Considering iRobot’s latest product that can also see costs triple that of the Neato…? I can live with krappy software as long as it cleans and doesn’t just bang into stuff.

And clean it does, baby.

After a few weeks of use, just letting it do it’s thing, I’m not convinced that Neato’s mapping algorithm is fool proof. But I did get it working. Things like “no-go-lines” are a good idear, don’t you know. “No-go lines”, btw, you can set in the app, which has a virtual map of your house, and they’re supposed to prevent the device from slamming into, say, the dog’s water and food bowls or any other complicated floor areas, e.g. cables, floor lamp bases, etc. The only problem with “no-go-lines” is that you have to make sure that what’s ever in the lines is always in the same and/or original place. A bit of a cumbersome thing considering a real world floor doesn’t contain “no-go-lines”. Even though our older iRobot could see walls but couldn’t see furniture, the Neato seems to be able to see everything–with or without mapping. Which brings me to…

I was very disappointed when our iRobot stopped working. After searching and researching, I found out that the iRobot didn’t wear as well as I thought it would. That is, the build of the iRobot is better, more solid than the Neato, that’s for sure. On the other hand, the iRobot seems to be more complex. For example, before its demise, the iRobot kept indicating “Error 11”. I since learned that depending on the model, “Error 11” either meant bad battery or bad waste bin. I eventually bought a new (albeit third-party) battery for it. After one cleaning session “Error 11” returned and I was pissed that I might have just wasted my time replacing the battery. Turns out that the waste bin was also faulty. That’s when I found out (realised) that iRobot builds the suction fan into the waste bin. IMHO, after a few weeks with a new robot vacuum, iRobot might be stuck in that industrial mindset of not just over-pricing but also (aghast!) OVER-ENGINEERING.

Anywho. The Neato has a much bigger waste bin, cleans waaaaay more efficiently, is quieter and after (finally) getting the mapping thing going, allows me to clean room by room with a few taps of the app. If/when I want to clean the second floor of our house, though, I do so by just taking it up stairs and hitting the clean button. After that I have to take it back downstairs and manually put it on its home-base. Oh yeah. That damn home-base. Hold a sec. That’s another thing.

If you interrupt the Neato’s cleaning session by picking it up or moving it, it gets confused. That wouldn’t be so bad if I could just tell it to find its base. The problem is, removing it from its mapping seems to make it forget where the base is. The only way to get it back to the base is to manually put it there. Again: krappy software! I hope Neato will improve it with future updates. If not, compared to the 2015 iRobot, I’d still buy Neato. Reason? The most significant difference between these two robots is I no longer have to deal with one of them just banging into stuff.

As far as cleaning goes. The Neato wins hands down. Our hard wood floors are much freer of dirt and tiny particles now. For the price and compared to equivalent smart devices from iRobot, I’m throwing the Neato in with any great deal I’ve made lately. Even though the software kinda sucks, it does a good job of cleaning. Add to that it doesn’t get stuck…

Three years of krapp like this, baby. Replace it.

Get your shit together iRobot!

Consume and rant on, baby.


While Walking And Dreaming

Had a heck of time the other morn, dear worst-reader. As usual, I begin one of three walks a day with Beckett, the killer pug, at around eight in the A.M. After that I feed him and let him sleep until a bird stirs him awake around noon and he barks so loud that babies in quarantine two blocks away wake up. Should I mention how his sudden bursts of barking almost stir me to madness? No. Seriously. There are moments when he has a barking fit that I could strangle his stupid, ugly, disgusting, non-nose hound… but at the very same moment all I really want to do is just cuddle him till his guts spill out all over me in a frantic delirium of love-joy. Or maybe not.

Among the other things seen during a given daily walk, here’s a few pics. The one to pay most attention to, of course, is the one with the Ferrari. Get a good look at that license plate holder.

I’ve been there before, don’t you know, dear worst-reader. There’s something about z’Germans, especially the wannabe rich little $hits that drive around in rented Ferraris, or overly expensive high-end SUVs, that claim they want to do something to Greta Thunberg. I’ve posted other stuff horsepower $hitbags want to do with Greta here and here. Which begs the question: why won’t the earth just eat (and then shit-out) the rich who are so blatantly 1) disrespectful and 2) douchebags?

But at least there are more pics to wonder at. For example. Even though my wife is disallowing me from having a motorcycle, which I haven’t ridden since 2001, I really want to get back on a bike. Although I’m preferring/leaning towards getting a retro Triumph, a few other brands are stirring my horsepower thoughts. For example. The bike that tickles my fancy the most right now is the KTM 790 Duke. What a bike, dudes. And to think Austrians could come up with such a middle-class two-wheeled wonder. Then again, since I’m stuck in a world of golden cage wishful thinking, and somehow know deep in my lust-gut that my wife is gonna fight it till her last breath, guilt by association follows me around forevermore and I lust for a cool two-wheeled ride. And so. While walking around. There it is. There’s a key to a Husqvarna motorclylce that someone found and kindly attached to a tree in the hopes it will be reunited with its owner. Do you see the connection here? That’s right. KTM owns Husqvarna. Which means this key on a tree is really telling me that I don’t want the Triumph. But I die-gress.

The other pic is that of a varmint I’ve been seeing in a local pond. In the three or so years I’ve been living here, and walking past that pond, I’ve never seen that critter before. He’s just above the duck, swimming across the water. There’s always been ducks, geese and swan hanging around… but a large rat-like critter with a tail longer than its body and almost as large as a swan…? #Nomatter.

The dog I love so much is doing just fine in his oncoming old age as he rests in his kingly couch. That’s right. Beckett the killer pug just turned thirteen. Or is he twelve? #Nomatter. He’s f’n barking like a madman again.

Rant on.


PS retro bike of choice–but I don’t want it in red.

retro bike of choice - triumph


Screenshot 2020-03-20 at 18.02.00

Came across a list (link below) the other worst-day, dear worst-reader. The only question I had after reviewing the list–yet another Bowie best-of list, like all the others, don’t you know–was whether or not I had all the songs–especially since I don’t use music subscription services. Turns out I have forty of the fifty and I’ve been contemplating a favorites list for a while so this is kind of a kicker, eh. Also. The reason I’m missing ten of the list is because, well, I still haven’t purchased Bowie’s last album and my collection is also missing stuff like Black Tie White Noise and London Boy. Of course, another reason for posting this info here is simply because my all-time favorite song is at #5 which caused me to gasp while reading it. WTF! “Heroes” is forever the bomb, baby–easily my all-time fav Bowie tune. I mean, I would have accepted it at two or three–but not five! Which begs the question, what about Fame! Oh my.

Rant on.


PS The reason I haven’t purchased Bowie’s last album is because, well, it would mean I have to face reality. I’m not good at that sort of thing. I mean. I’ve always known I’d get to it and I have most of his music anywho in my collection and… And so. Yeah, maybe it’s time. To face. Reality.


Pseudo-Review: iPhone 6s > iPhone 11

Why go to 10 (or Xr or 8) when you can go to 11? For that is the worst-question, eh, dear worst-reader? I mean, wouldn’t we all go to 11, always skipping the others, if we could? Or is the issue mute? Nomatter. The moment I’d been avoiding for so long by nursing my iPhone 6s–you know, the good-fight we all must lose in order to postpone Apple’s corporate strategy of forced product obsoletism–finally arrived the other day. Even though I’ve been giving it my best for almost four years, the whole time knowing that these devices really only last, on a good day, for about two years, I hung to a glimmer of hope. I mean, come on. Almost 4 years out of the 6s? WTF. That is pretty cool. On the other hand. Maybe. Just maybe. Why couldn’t I make it last a bit more? You know, make it last until the iPhone 12–or the 13, etc. Or? But then, about two weeks ago, I updated my 6s to iOS 13 and suddenly the bells and gongs of Steve Jobs’ greed-mongering rang galore. The 6s was the last old iPhone that was supposed to handle the new update, its predecessor the iPhone 6 being hurled to the official wastedom of obsoletism. Indeed. FYI. They should have hurled the 6s, as well.

Obsoletism And Batteries

The first thing that went, about two years ago–the thing that always goes first–was the battery. And not just one battery. I utilised Apple’s offer of replacing the 6s’ original battery with their 30,-€ deal last February. And don’t you know, for about two months I thought things were great. But then, probably after another system update (or two), that 30,-€ battery deal turned sour. Unwilling to make a claim that Apple’s battery replacement program was a hoax, I decided to resort to a somewhat extreme solution. After my 6s’ first year I bought one of them Anker battery cases. Although it bulked-up the device to being the size of the newer “plus” phones Apple was offering, I went with it. The battery case lasted for about eight months till it too started showing major power degradation. After that I tried carrying around one of those USB chargers. It also worked for a while. Then I came across an original Apple iPhone 6s battery case at a reduced price of around 100,-€. I went for it. To say the least, that damn 6s cost me quite a bit to just keep it going. So was/am I glad that it kinda died the other day? Now that I finally upgraded, I can easily say… shur-nuff, baby!

Old=out New=in

Of course, there were a few moments here and there where I thought I shouldn’t splurge so much cash for the latest model. Why not just take the iPhone 8? It’s priced at about two hundred less than the 11, don’t you know. In fact, I don’t really need much in/from an iPhone. I had long realised that the worst part about corporate forced product obsoletism isn’t that they design these things to make you buy more, but, during the last two years of stretching its life, I could barely use any non-Apple Apps. The processor is just too slow to keep up with new software. With the 6s it’s really not so bad since most of my computing activity is with my MacBook. Also. I rarely make phone calls with it and if I do, it’s mostly using FaceTime with family. Otherwise, I use it for podcasting, GPS, camera, news, reading books (Kindle and Apple Books), weather, note-taking, etc. Most of that stuff worked till the end because the software was from Apple. Indeed. The Kindle software (Amazon) was pretty much toast, though. Plus, I got tired of reading on the little 6s screen. Anyhow. After only twenty-four hours of use of my new iPhone… Boy have I been missing-out.

Price Reality

Lucky for worst-moi and because of pricing politics after the ridiculously expensive iPhone X–which my wife paid almost 1200,-€ for last year–the price of the new iPhone 11, including a 50-, trade-in for my old 6s, wasn’t looking too bad. Comparably the Xr model, only a hundred Euros less, and the 8 model, two-hundred less, but also with substantially weaker hardware specs, meant that nomatter how I cut it, I was gonna fork out anywhere between 550,- to 800,- with this consume-to-survive transaction. For you see, dear worst-reader, I’ve never had a phone contract so buying one of these things with a contract is a no-go. I hate cell phone carriers, but that’s another worst-post. In the end, with the trade-in, I paid 749,-€ for the newest iPhone. Does that make me want to jump up and down and or kiss Pamela Anderson posters till I blow my goo? Indeed. 749,- for a new iPhone of this caliber is a long way away from 1000,- plus. Indeed. Indeed.


So I went through the crowded rigamarole at the Apple Store on a Saturday afternoon. Luckily, nomatter how crowded my local Apple store gets, I’ve learned that if you’re buying something, especially hardware, the line to get service is easily shortened for you. Within a few hours I was back home getting ready to unbox and set up my new iPhone 11. Since I had made a backup on my MacBook the night before of my 6s, I declined the offer to setup up my new phone at the crowded store, always telling the Apple rep that I new what I was doing. Of course, deleting and emptying my 6s, so I could turn it in to him, took a while, too. Btw, it’s pretty cool how Apple makes sure your devices is wiped. For whatever reason, my old iPhone was having trouble NOT backing up my data to iCloud while at the store. The rep kept saying I should let the backup happen but I also kept telling him that I trusted the backup I made the previous night on my MacBook. All in all, I was right, but with one caveat. The only setup issue I had with my new iPhone, iCloud account n’all, was that I didn’t expect it to not be on the latest iOS, which, btw, my 6s had. That meant I couldn’t “restore” from my backup because the 6s iOS was newer than what was on the iPhone 11. And so. What should have taken about half-hour to forty minutes, took almost an hour and a half to complete. The new iPhone iOS update took the longest. The restore from iTunes took about fifteen minutes. Even though direct old phone to new phone updates that Apple has are cool and work great (it’s how my wife does it), the way I did it works, too. It just takes a bit longer. It’s really cool that my new phone, after the update and restore from old 6s, is identical. Love it!

Apps Crash

Wow. After just under 48hrs of use, I’m tickled to death with my new iPhone. I can finally run a few 3rd party Apps I haven’t been able to run for years–or they completely got out of my usage radar because my 6s has long since been obsolete. iaWriter, for example. One of my favourite worst-writing apps. It syncs with all my worst-writing to my MacBook now. I was never able to do that with either my new MacBook or its predecessor my MacBook Air and the 6s. (Why?) There’s also a few Apps my wife wants us both to use (for cooking recipes, of course) that I couldn’t use before because she’s got a iPhone X. Even Apple Apps are no longer crashing as much as they did before e.g. FaceTime and Contacts. Volumio, my audio player/controller of choice (in combination with a household full of Raspberry Pi’s plus HifiBerry), was also crashing. The 6s used to crash all the time before I could even start a song with my iPhone 6s; had to resort to playing/controlling music with my MacBook. Hasn’t crashed once with the new 11. But. Ok. Obviously this new iPhone is better than the previous one. I mean, it’s the best iPhone apple has EVER made. Or? Nomatter. Lots of re-learning about Apps is still to come.

Design Flaw Ongoing

Of course, let’s not get too junky about being an Apple fanboy. Like the 6s, the same things I hated about that design will still be with me in the new 11. For example, the volume buttons being directly across from the power button–or what is now also the Siri button–is stupid. Whoever at Apple came up with this idear is, well, stupid. Reason? Unless you take special care, you cannot change the volume on this device with one hand. Cupping the iPhone and then using your forefinger to either increase or decrease the volume, thereby requiring your thumb to counter the pressure on the other side of the phone, either turns it off or, now, calls up Siri. Whaaaaaaaaaa! Also. Why the hell do they make these things as slippery as a greased pig. (No. I’ve never tried to catch a greased pig! But I have read about it.) The fact that I’ve become accustomed, since the 6s, to being very careful how I handle/hold/pick-up this phone, says everything. I feel like, sometimes, someone at Apple (Steve Jobs?) had the idear: how can we subvert product obsoletism, which only alienates customers, with a surer way of getting them to buy more of these things? That’s right. Make them out of glass so that they are supposed to slip out of your hands and fall crashing to the ground. Apple care anyone? (Fcuk you!)


Although I probably pissed away a lot of money trying to keep my iPhone 6s running for so long, in the end the only thing that killed it was battery. After getting used to an old, slow iPhone, I could have lived with it, including not being able to run certain apps. Oh well. And by-the-buy, I would have replaced the 6s sooner if Apple would have upgraded (hardware) the iPhone SE. Personally, another design flaw of these things is that they are just waaaaaaaay too big. The last best fitting iPhone for me was the 5s. Again. Oh well.

Now take my money Apple!

Rant on.


Pods, Ears, Tech Mediocre Galore

Pseudo-review of Soundcore earbuds, baby.

Consuming to survive, dear worst-reader. How’s it going for you? Otherwise, I bought these earbuds a few months back while you-know-who/what online store had a sale. Got them for half-price, too, don’t you know. But I suppose I should also give credit where it’s due regarding how I bought something that I thought I wouldn’t buy–at least until I upgrade my iPhone 6s and thereby get a phone jack out of my life. For that’s the ticket, ain’t it dear worst-reader? For most of my dog-walking and podcast listening pleasure over the past few years, I’ve been using the original earbuds that Apple provides with their phones–phone-jack n’all. I’m actually a fan of the Apple design earbuds, too. If they weren’t so expensive I’d be using Apple wireless earbuds, too. Instead, I got these earbuds after my son bought them and I was able to try them. He actually ended up sending his back and buying another set from another brand because he said these don’t have enough bass. Goodness knows there’s plenty to choose from in this arena–and I’m not a bass fan anywho. I was so impressed with these that when I saw them marked down to 55,-€… I was all over them. Which brings me to the main issue, eh. Do they actually work?


In short, they work great if you don’t…

  • make a phone call while walking
  • use them when it’s windy
  • walk in the city where there’s lots of traffic (noise)
  • try to make a call using only the right earbud, etc.

As a headset for telephony, they only work if you’re using them where there’s absolutely no ambient noise and you’re not moving around.


For music listening they work much better than the wired earbuds from Apple. In fact, I’ve been so impressed with music play that I’ve actually found myself listening to music again via my iPhone. For don’t you know, dear worst-reader, I stopped listening to music via my iPhone because 1) I hate iTunes and 2) I hate listening to music through headsets, whether in-ear or over-ear. Not sure if these are gonna turn me into a regular earbud music listener, though. Indeed. I doubt it.

In summary.

These are my first true wireless bluetooth earbuds. I had wired bluetooth earbuds but I misplaced them and they never turned up again. The only reason I bought these is because they were half price and my Apple wired earbuds were literally worn-out. Once I found out how bad they are with telephony, I was on the verge of sending them back. I changed my mind on account I like the design and the way they fit in my ear. Since I don’t telephone much, that ain’t that important. Battery life is also pretty good. I use them twice a day during dog walks which means they last for a whole week. The other odd them about them is that I have to plug them in, unplug them and then plug them back in (in that oder) to get them to charge via USB. Obviously these earbuds are a bit of a hassle. I certainly won’t buy them again. But they do serve their purpose.

Oh well.

Rant (and consume) on, baby.


Pseudo-Review: To Sit Or To Stand

Consumed-to-survive me one of them fancy-pants Ikea electric adjustable desks a few months back, dear worst-reader. And don’t you know, it’s a pretty half-decent, fairly useable thing–if you need/should stand while worst-writing. Luckily for worst-moi, as you can see in the pic above, the smallest version of the desk fits perfectly into the only remaining wall space of my mancave. It’s like having an adjustable corner to stare into the light/darkness of my brain as pseudo-ness-galore swirls around dribbling words of nonsense. Or maybe not.

After a rough start, dear worst-reader, I’ve been impressed with this desk. Why the heck it’s so expensive, I can’t say. But isn’t everything we think we need expensive? That’s how they get us, right? Even though desks of this type are pricey, and this one might lack in a bit of bling-bling compared to others, it definitely holds its own. I mean, five hundred or so Euros ain’t nothing to shake a worst-stick at. And that was the biggest hindrance to getting the thing in the first place. Yet, after a few months of use, slowly un-regretting buying it, getting a hang on how the thing works, I’m actually impressed. Oh. Wait. It should have more variety in colours. Yeah, my better half made sure I understood that. She hates the colour. Nomatter.

For five hundred or so Euros and you get a very solid, adjustable desk. And when I say solid, I mean the desktop is waaaaay sturdy. In fact, one of the things I really like about it is that when I’m sitting down and I’m done working, even though it doesn’t touch the wall for support–on account there has to be some space from the wall so that the desk can rise up and down–I can still push on it so that my seat can roll out from underneath. The desk doesn’t shift or move at all. Indeed. A very sturdy desk whether used while standing or sitting. Even though I don’t use one anymore, I think it would even work well as a sturdy undercarriage when typing on one of my old mechanical typewriters. Ah. A moment of nostalgia, eh. Sturdy under-carriages galore while typing…? Moving on.

Typical for Ikea desks, this one also has one of those net thingies underneath it for holding/organising cables. Although during assembly I managed to break one of the mounts that holds the net and I haven’t yet bothered to fix it, it works. I was so pissed at the moment I broke it, don’t you know. Why and h-e-double-toothpicks does Ikea instruct one to use a real–as in metal–hammer to hammer in cheap, plastic mounts in order to secure the net? First, using a hammer like that means there’s no feel regarding how much force is required for the mounts. I broke the first one. After that I inserted the mounts with my fingers and then carefully went over them with a rubber hammer to make sure they were secure and in place. If hit too hard, though, the rubber hammer might break the mounts, as well. Anywho. The net has enough mounts that one missing doesn’t seem to effect it. Come on, Ikea!

The only gripe I have with this desk is height adjustment. Although sleek and discreet, the lever works fine and the desk raises and lowers smoothly. Height adjustment is a bit of an oddity, though. If you bother to research/shop for this type of desk, you’ll find there are others that offer better height control. Unfortunately for me those other products aren’t readily available where I live, plus, when compared with all the bling-bling, this desk is very competitive. Bling-bling here or there, this desk isn’t less functional. That is, other brands offer preset buttons for desk height. I thought that was something I needed. When asked, Ikea simply said that this unit had no presets. Whaaaaaa?

It has presets. When you connect the app, you can set three desk heights. You would think that after setting the heights all you have to do is tap the height setting in the app and the desk will activate accordingly. But that’s not how it works. You still have to use the lever on the desk or the up/down arrows on the app. What isn’t explained anywhere–at least I didn’t find it and the Ikea person I talked to didn’t know either–is that once you have set a preset height, all you have to do is hold the lever and it will go to that preset height and stop. And that’s the ticket. You have to activate the lever. Could this be done differently without breaking the bank? Sure. Why not. It’s just a matter of doing a bit more with the app. Come on Ikea, get your $hit together.

All-in-all this has been a worthwhile purchase. In fact, if they come out with an all white version, my better-half might even get one. As of the writing of this worst-post, they are only available in brown and black desktops with the odd, off-colour (is it beige?) legs. Aghast! Again. Come on Ikea.

Rant (and consume) on.


Please, No More Hair Trimmers And No More Examples Of #Americant Losing Its $hit

Am I on my last hair trimmer, dear worst-reader? At least I hope I’m on my last one. It’s a thing I’m going through right now, don’t you know, in this–the $hit$how that is consume-to-survive. The idear is the following: Pay a little bit more now in the hopes that–if there is such a thing as quality–I don’t have to pay again and again and again later. I mean, come on. This is the (I forget which number) hair trimmer I’ve had to buy in the last ten years. Am I chasing a dream up the wrong bark-less tree here, dear worst-reader? I mean, come on–again. I’m beyond middle age. I lost most of my hair by my mid-thirties. Now I’m mid-fifties and what’s left of my hair just needs to be trimmed down every few days along with a good beard shave and that lustful feel of fresh and stingy aftershave. Goodness knows how much I’ve saved over the years by doing all this without having to go to a barber. But I’m also tired of buying hair trimmers, for fcuk-sake! Then again, at least I don#t live in #Americant anymore, eh. Or did you miss the vid on the interwebnets recently that is yet another example of how a once great nation-state has devolved into a divide & conquer cesspool of THE LAND OF FREE TO BE STUPID? I mean, my problems are ALL about finding the right product to buy, eh. #Americant’s problems are a whole nother $hit$how of stupid-galore. Or am I wrong?

My previous hair trimmer was some odd-named, cheap-o device I bought on you-know-who online shopping website. In the beginning it was a pretty cool device. It charged with a USB cable. It had the proper blade length settings that allowed me to use it without an adapter–as I prefer to keep my fading hair at around 2mm. And I even got a kick out of the little numerical screen that informed me of the battery status–which, once the battery died, was no longer amusing. It was obviously a cheap piece of $hit–even though it did what it was supposed to do for a while. Kinda like #Americant used to be, eh?

But let me give some credit where it’s due. Cheap ain’t always that bad–unless you’re an #Americant and are bitter at the $hit$how you’ve either created or inherited. Sometimes one can get lucky with cheap stuff that works great–especially if you’re a duma$$ #Trump-er with the mindset that is no longer than the hair atop my balding head. For example. I got lucky with stereo speakers and a stereo amp that I bought a few years ago to replace that stupid multi-channel, surround sound system that cost me thousands and drove me crazy and also turned me totally off to multiple channel audio. But that’s neither here nor there. Back to cheap v quality hair trimmers and a bit more about how/why it’s so hard to elevate yourself out of so much stupid when you’ve been reared by it.

My last hair trimmer worked pretty good for about a year–until the battery died a few days ago. But I already worst-said that. That is, the battery wouldn’t hold a charge anymore. What to do, what to do with this consume-to-survive throw-away world we live in, eh? Buying a new battery for it is a choice I suppose but once I saw how fiddly all that would be I gave up on the idear. As best I can remember that was the fourth hair-trimmer (or is it hair-clipper?) I’ve been forced to purchase in the last ten years–each of which as been thrown away and away and away. Even though I have a trusty Braun razor that helds-up much longer, and I even had a Braun hair trimmer once, too, the Braun hair trimmer didn’t last much longer than the cheap one that just died. Plus, the Braun hair trimmer wasn’t as flexible when it came to adjusting for desired hair length. For whatever reason, the powers-that-be at Braun thought that their hair trimmer shouldn’t go below 3mm. That’s just too long for this proudly balding guy. Speaking of proudly balding. Get a load of the vid-link below where the young gun from where-ever bum-fcuk #Americant gets out of his stupid-truck to punch what looks like a guy that could be me.

What the fcuk is going on with #Americant, dear worst-reader? Or am I the only one to notice that THE LAND OF FREE TO BE STUPID is reaching new heights of STUPID? Oh wait. Back to the less politically correct issue of hair trimmers for ageing wannabe hippies like worst-moi.

What is it with making a half decent hair trimmer? Enter the world of half-professional hair trimming equipment–I hope.

I bought Wahl hair clippers (trimmer) the other day at almost half price. Even though the thing is double what a hair trimmer from other makers would cost (i.e. Panasonic, Remington, Braun, etc.), I went with it. Obviously the sale price helped. Aware that this is a real barbershop device, i.e. less forgiving when in the hands of an amateur hair trimmer like my worst-self, I’m hoping that this thing will give me some relief from having to buy another trimmer anytime soon. At the least, if/when the batteries die, I can send it back to Wahl and they’ll put new ones in–or, because of its build quality, I can change the batteries myself–which is just not an option with those other big-brand name devices. Also, if need be, the electrical charging cable can be used to run the Wahl if the battery conks-out. The other hair trimmers I’ve had could only be used while on battery power. Either their cables were too short or the device just didn’t work right when on cable.

The only issue after first use of the Wahl trimmer is the hard and somewhat sharp blades. The other (cheap-o) devices were easier on the scalp when gliding along and trimming. The Wahl has some serious hard edges.

So a question remains in this quest for consume-to-survive autonomy or getting away with as little cost to life as possible. Is it even feasible that this could be the last hair trimmer I buy? Indeed. Questions that need be asked as the silver years approach and those golden years aren’t far off but at least I’m far enough away from #Americant that I don’t have to worry about some stupid whipper-snapper hack-job jumping out of a #MAGA truck just to slap me around because, well, I coined the term #Americant on account the place is going to hell in a hand basket faster than you can say impeach that piece of $hit with the pee-pee hair.

Or maybe not.

Good luck suckers.

Rant on.


29 yr old punches 69 yr old and all is well in land of free to be stupid (sarcasm off)

E-Bikes And The Ageing Killer Pug

Like me, dear worst-reader, Beckett – the killer pug, is getting old. Fortunately I’ve still got all my front teeth. Most of his front teeth, on the other hand, except for the fangs, had to be removed last year. I mean, have you ever had a look inside a Pugs mouth? What a mess of teeth, don’t you know. In fact, if you didn’t know, in that little skull is housed the same amount of teeth that a normal nose dog has. The upper jaw is intrinsically rowed with various molars. It’s very alien-like. As far as the lower jaw, that’s a whole ‘nother story. It’s amazing that any teeth stay in after 11 years on the lower jaw. Since most of his scissor teeth were removed, he’s having a few issues here & there holding that tongue in. In case you’re wondering, like the teeth, that tongue is just as long as a tongue of dog with a normal nose. Lots going on in a Pug’s skull, baby.

But wait! E-bikes.

Nice long weekender to Berlin recently. Panorama shot of the Olympic stadium. You know, the stadium where Jessie Owens showed ugly Adolf how sportsmanship is done.

For those not in the know, you can see most of Berlin by boat. We only used one as a ferry, though.

My better-half has been complaining about getting a basket for her Charger Nuvinci. I tested it at the shop and inquired if she wanted one with fancy colours. She said black is fine. Yeah, baby. Steal my heart with darkness. Only downside to rack-time baskets is that you can’t use side-bags anymore. Oh well. Consume-to-survive, baby.

And by-the-buy, you can actually get two days food in a basket that fits perfectly to the bike’s rack-time rack. What do we got here? Fresh white asparagus, Italian cured ham, two bottles of Grauburgunder (Pinot Gris), and a little pumpkin for the next days quiche. That’s right. I make quiche, bitch. And I make it with pumpkin, goat cheese, fresh chilli peppers, sage and, of course, über fresh Italian parmesan. (Sometimes I’ll cheat with a fresh slab of Irish cheddar.)

Rant (and ride safe) on, baby.


PS Not been riding much this time of year. Weather is too crazy here. Too much rain and cold and lots of unpredictability. That’s pseudo-spring in Germania. Bummer!

Pseudo-Review- Birkenstock And The Happy Foot

Note on the pics. The Birkenstock shoe (left foot) is still in what I consider to be its break-in period. They’re only about ten days old. Note the suede sole footbed insert. The sandal (right foot) is broke-in and is probably four months old. The only issue I’m facing with the sandals is that I’ve run out of holes for tightening the straps as the leather has stretched a bit. The ladies at the Birkenstock store said it’s easy to add another hole or two. Good news, eh. Tip to break-in the sandals: after shower wear them with undried feet.

Been having foot trouble, don’t you know, dear worst-reader. Yeah, it’s been going on for years. The origin of this trouble has been mostly due to weight and a screwed-up left achilles. It might be also attributable to the side-ways goings and comings I experience after a bottle or three of wine. But that’s neither here nor there. My foot trouble has caused me to favour one foot over the other and, who knows, might even lead to that hip replacement a few years down the road. Oh yeah. I’m having hip trouble now, too. Nomatter.

According to those in the know, the (real) problem with my feet might be the so-called cheap-o factor. How could anyone have guessed that for the last ten or so years I’ve been flying to the US, not only to visit my ageing mother, but to purchase cheap sneakers at a Rehoboth, DE, outlet mall. If you’re not in the know, dear worst-reader, get this: those outlet malls in DE are not only cheap but they are also friggin’ tax free. Which can only mean, for worst-writer, I guess, cheapness has contributed to my feet trouble. On the other hand, the Nike Free shoes I’ve favoured for the past few years, you know, the ones with the extremely flexible souls (that collect so many little rocks in the cracks) have been the only shoes I can wear for any extended period of time. You know, when walking around Paris for three days and worst-stuff like that. In fact. I haven’t been able to wear real shoes (leather and/or dress shoes) for years. They’re just too painful. If I have to wear fancy-pants real shoes, say for a special event, I plan it so that I can get out of them ASAP. In fact, until recently, I only had one pair of fancy pants real shoes. Indeed. And so. A nice new pair of Nike Free 5.0s in black go well with a suit, don’t you know. On the other hand, even when not in Paris, I take lots of walks, especially with Beckett the killer pug, and I wear out those Nikes quickly. I can easily wear out a pair of Nikes in six months. That also means the soft and un-supporting worn out footbeds end up hurting my feet even more–if not actually doing more damage. But I’m off subject.

After complaining to my better-half again and again about my feet, she suggested two things. First, change shoe brand and/or change shoe sole. Second, maybe it was time I stopped cheaping-out on shoes. She then recommended we go with what she’s been alluding to for some time: let’s try Birkenstock. She added that she’s been reading-up on the issue and that we’ve probably reached the age where it is time for a bit more foot-love.

“Birkenstock? Really?” I questioned.
“Sure. Why not?”
“Not sure I’m ready for the ultimate in Germanin preppy foot wear,” I added.
“You’re more German than all of us,” she said. “Plus, they’re perfectly engineered shoes.”
“Perfectly over-engineered,” I added.

Within three days I was wearing new Birkenstock sandals around the house. As of the writing of this worst-post, I’ve been wearing those sandals everyday, all day, for the last three months only removing them when I nap, sleep or bathe. And although the break-in period with the soles was a bit trying, after about a week of both foot pain and lower leg pain–seriously, the footbed of the sandals effect the muscles in the leg below the knee– something was clicking with these shoes. Soon I was telling my wife that my feet haven’t felt this good in years–especially considering that the last three places we’ve lived all had hardwood floors–where I’ve been unable to walk barefoot but also had never found a pair of comfortable house shoes as the wife would never agree to thick shag-carpet.

By-the-buy, I did have a pair of Crocs for a few years but I hated them from the get-go. More on that here. In fact, I’m now convinced that the reason I wore Crocs was (1) I was too lazy to get informed about my aching feet and (2) they seemed like an alternative to wearing stuff that made me look… old (but on that I could be wrong).

Long pseudo-review short, although I do remember trying Birkenstock shoes back in the late 1980s, where they just didn’t work for my feet, it seems that now there is nothing else I’d rather wear. And so. On the success of the house shoes, i.e. sandals, I’ve since really splurged and bought a pair of Birkenstock (real) shoes. The break-in period for these seems to be a bit longer than the sandals but I can say that so-far they’ve not disappointed. The shoes, by-the-buy, have the traditional footbed as an insert. I was skeptical at first if going with an insert was the right thing to do but after the first week of break-in I’m now good with it.

Just like the sandals, the footbed, it’s shape and it’s composition, is the secret to Birkenstock. If you recall, I have a protruding left achilles. That means that for most of my adult life, I’ve never been able to wear a shoe size that matches my actual foot size. The work-around for worst-moi has always been to wear shoes, depending on the brand, that are at least one size too big. I simply need the extra space for my achilles at the heel of my left foot. Either that or I suffer severe blistering. Although I have to buy the same over-size with Birkenstocks, the fact that the footbed eventually fits to my foot, is a godsend. No longer do I have to deal with my feet moving around in shoes because they are a size or size-and-a-half too big. The cork and synthetic composite structure of the footbed eventually fits (moulds?) to my foot. It’s brilliant. Why the hell didn’t I think of this fifteen or so years ago. Oh yeah. Cause I’m a cheap-o!

While I’m worst-writing about expensive $hit, the negative here is that due to all the walking I do, I don’t think the shoes are gonna last very long. As you can see in the pics above, there’s not much rubber where shoe meets ground. On the other hand, if/when I do wear out the soles, in a half year or so, the shoes are probably structurally worn out anywho. Now I’m wondering if I’ll be able to replace the sole. Also. As you’ll note from their webpage or any retailer that sells them, this level of needed comfort for those of us with foot troubles galore, means that these shoes ain’t cheap. Since my better-half approved of the purchase, all is good. The only question is, I’m now so sold on Birkenstock as my consume-to-survive go-to foot wear, there are at least two other pairs I’d also like to own. I’m thinking I’ll go with another pair of shoes without the inserts. Yeah, that’s the ticket. Time to save up the doe, baby. In a few months fancy-pants-shoes version 3.0.

Rant (and walk comfortably) on.


No. Seriously. Bought Because Of The Name.



Another subversive purchase by my better half. Most of these purchases are regrettable–except for the purses and shoes, of course. When it comes to electronics, though, she slips one in there every once-a-once that is a doozy. This Roomba, iRobot, fancy-pants vacuum cleaner, for instance. After just over two years of use, it has proved itself worthy of frivolous consume-to-survive hot-wife choices. The only problem with such a device is that’s most certainly not hand-free. Not only does it require regular care–as in emptying its tiny residue holder. But it also requires regular maintenance of its fancy moving parts–of which there are a few. Once you get the hang of that, making sure you have a regular supply of replacement parts, it’s a piece of cake household appliance. Heck I’ve even dropped it on my couch to let it sweep-up dog hair–on account, well, it’s actually the dog’s couch. Oh yeah, worst-writing of dog hair. The scooping rollers underneath this thing are especially good at picking up dog hair–or even my better-half’s thick, blonde, Germania hair. But then there’s the bumbling, ditzy way it bumps into everything. I remember one day filling up on wine and just letting this thing go for a while. You know, as a form of stress relief. How mesmerising it is, don’t you know, dear worst-reader. I stared at it for an hour which then culminated in the following question: who programs this krapp? Then it got stuck in a tight place and couldn’t get out. (See vid above.) How is that possible? How does it get in such a place but then can’t get out? I’ve also come home and it was stuck underneath a toilet bowl. I mean, it couldn’t get itself unstuck? And there’s all the cable entanglements. That’s why, usually before every start, I make sure there’s not loose on the floor. Although it’s supposed to know how to avoid things like loose cables, it doesn’t know anything. There are, in fact, quite a few things you have to get out of its way for it to work. It would probably be best if any room where it’s supposed to work would just be empty. But. Then again. All-in-all, just letting this thing do what it does, especially when you’re out and about, i.e. not in the house mesmerised by it, it’s pretty cool. And the battery is still going strong, too. Yeah. Gee. This was a worthwhile purchase. So it gets a worst-writer recommendation.

Rant and consume on.


How Compulsives Run The Show

three dollar bill apple logo (low res)

We live in a world of Trump-Uglies and the disgust his ilk pro-creates. We live in a world of teeth-less, comb-over dog-fights that are clawless due to cosmetics and ill-fitted matrimony. And even better… We live in a world that is not lead by the merit of one’s or the collective’s actions. No. Indeed. We live in compulsive-behaviourism-world. You know, one absent of the superman symbol, which isn’t really an ‘S’. But don’t take my worst-word for it, dear worst-reader. Have a look around. In fact. You don’t have to look far. Just dip your head above the water-line and take a good look at the tip of the iceberg you’ve been living asunder. Squint, if you must. Pull on your eyewear. Adjust your teeth. But have a look at that tip–before you descend again to have it all ever-so slightly penetrate you. Familiar? Of course it is. There they are–at the top of the tip. The people you look at from your glamour magazine life which is stuck in a bathroom medicine cabinet because, according to Sam Shepard, it’s the best place in your house to avoid germs1. And there they are. Atop. Asunder beyond. The ones with all the friggin money and power and, of course, Trump-Uglies that you so enjoyed watching on your mind… I mean on you TV. Congratulations. Look at what you’ve done.

But I’m off subject. Again.

This is just another worst-post that is supposed to be about consuming-to-survive and figuring out to compete with the Compulsives.

Who?, you asked.

You know, just check out the leader of them: any friggin CEO.

And would you believe that Apple’s Tim Cook is panicking right now because the compulsion that has driven him, the things he learned in College, life, are all what didn’t get him to where he is today? Or did it? But let’s not get personal. No. Instead. Have a look at Apple’s stock price. I remember the price when one of them could be bought by Gomer Pyle… I mean Forrest Gump.


The thing to focus on is how corporations are starting to show signs of the fake economy that has been used to facilitate and build–your life. The(ir) game(s) is starting to show some transparency–or are they cracks? That is, the likes of Tim Cook are seeing what their seed/deeds has sewn/done. It is perhaps a thing called consume-love, don’t you know. This thing called perpetual war and all its mis-glory. This thing called… Hey! Hold a sec. Stop the worst-presses. Nancy Pelosi just kinda… sort-of… maybe… uninvited Trump and his piss-air to this year’s #SOTU. Now wouldn’t that be cool if Nancy could actually pull it off? You know, putting the $hitbag in his place. But. Again. I’m off subject.

To the article linked below.

First. I’m one of them cheap-o’s that took advantage of Apple’s battery offering last year. I’ve been struggling for almost two years now to keep my four year old iPhone 6s going. I’ve tried everything. I’ve purchased battery cases –which oddly only last about six months each before finding their way to the trash heap. I’ve erased all non essential apps from the device–in order to save on the trickery of tracking and surveillance that secondarily ruins battery life. Up do the battery deal, I did my best to keep it always charged at least above half-full. For don’t you know, dear worst-reader, at half full the iPhone 6s’ battery can die within minutes if not immediately put on charge. And so. Apple’s battery replacement offer for only twenty-nine Euros was a godsend to me last year. Wow, I thought. This might be the first time I’m not forced to buy a new phone when, in fact, I’ve got a perfectly good phone–if it weren’t for the compulsive behaviourism that drives the corporatists that think they work for a living but instead con-man us all into their product-obsoletism. I mean, come on. Who else can come up with this level of centralised economics run amok?

On the other worst-hand, maybe it’s time to buy some Apple stock.

Rant on.


Link that motivated this post:

  1. See the play “Fool For Love”. ↩︎

That Last Bottle Of Wine Full Of Memories

Xmas Eve dinners are a big deal in worst-writer’s house. A few people are invited and some of them actually come. Since the kids are all growed-up this is mostly an adult evening. Either that or the kids are with divorcee parents. Nomatter. To begin the occasion, a bottle of champagne is opened and most drink from it. A few snacks are made available along with conversation about a year ending and perhaps, dear worst-reader, you can imagine how things go from there. Then the cooking begins. In a five-course meal, worst-moi is responsible for the first two. The starter was a worst-writer (aka Tom) carpaccio with baked and shaved gold beets, shaved parmesan, a dressing made of sour cream, vinegar and horseradish and all topped with watercress leaves and fresh broken black pepper. Of course, just before Guten Apetit is wished upon all, über olive oil from our Croatia trip this year was dabbled atop. Even though this meal has been prepared for everyone before, as it is our guests most requested worst-writer dish, this time it was a bit different. We actually opened our last bottle of what worst-writer considers to be  one of the finest Chianti he’s ever consumed. It is a 2004 Selvapiana Chianti. Not a very expensive wine, it is special because it is also the last of about three cases–among thirty or so cases–that we brought back with us after a week of wine tasting in Tuscany in 2007. Nervous if the wine had aged well–on account we lost probably two bottles to “cork”–the first whiff following cork removal proved all was well. In fact, the scent that immediately emerged from the cork and the bottle did more than jostle the memory of that 2007 trip. It was indeed a grand piece of travel, not to mention it being one of the last where I was able to make love to my wife multiple times a day–every glorious day. Yeah, something about Tuscany, the air, the wine… and not being over fifty yet. A little more than a decade later, and many wine-o days behind me–not to mention the waning physical love drive–which is in-and-of-itself a relief–I thoroughly enjoyed it. I think my wife was especially tickled, too, as I didn’t need to remind her of its meaning.

“Shall we return to Tuscany in 2019 to get more,” I asked her while wishing her a merry Xmas.

“As you like, my love,” she said as we savoured wine wet lips.

Rant on.


PS The beef for the carpaccio is prepared thus: at about 2pm while first guests arrive and first bottle of Champagne is served, for show effect, the filet mignon is slightly salted (with flaky, pink, Himalayan salt), peppered and then seared all around in a glowing hot pan on the secondary burner of my Weber über-grill. The idear is to caramelise the outside of the meat without cooking any of the inside. After that rest it for about an hour in the winter climate. Then put the meat in a freezer bag and in the freezer. At about 6pm, after prepping all the other parts, the meat is removed and sliced as thin as possible. The freezing of the meat helps to slice thinly where it then thaws on the plate just prior to serving and if cut properly is almost translucent.

PSS The second course worst-writer prepared was homemade noodles with a butter-wine sauce, melted parmesan, and then topped with black truffle shavings–that we also got on our last Croatia trip. Croatian wine tasting combined with truffles almost competes with Tuscany. Anywho. It was served with a French Cabernet that was pretty decent and more expensive than the Chianti, but couldn’t hold up to the memory.

Learning How Good The Crunge Really Is And Other Songs

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TEAC no longer in business? Bought by Panasonic? Glad I got one when I did.

Potential sub- or alternative title: Oh how pleased I am with current status of (my) audio consumption and still being able to get it on at my age.

Yesterday’s evening conduit? It began with a glass of Weißburgunder and a few tunes from greatest-band-ever randomly discharged from my home network wifi to my  2015 MacBook Air that is connected with a five-metre, gold-plated USB cable to a TEAC A-H01 that is behind my work-desk powering Pioneer SP-BS22L speakers and… and it’s fcukin magic, baby. The direct connection between my computer and the software that drives the DAC of this little amp, is simply outstanding. But this ain’t a hardware post. Or is it?

The tunes in the list above are somewhat randomly chosen from each of Led Zeppelin’s eight studio albums that have been my source of rock heaven ever since ripping them from AAD CDs that I bought twenty years ago. The sound is so crisp and clear that I often find myself weeping–and not only because I’m privileged enough to have learned to reproduce music at this level (cost) without breaking the bank.

Actually… a random selection, btw, isn’t exactly random. It’s more like a list of songs that I rarely pick when I’m in rock-need, except Dazed and Confused and In The Evening. In The Evening, FYI, is probably my all-time fav from greatest-band-ever. But that’s neither here nor there. Or? It’s just that In The Evening has to be part of any conduit evening of rock pleasure and other pleasures (thanks to my wife). The thing about this list that I really want to worst-blog about, though, is that The Crunge has emerged out from the black-hole of my listening preferences. Indeed. Until yesterday, especially half-way through second glass of Weißburgunder, and having finished prep for dinner, The Crunge finally sunk in as a new greatest-band-ever song. I just had no idear how good this song is. Why is that?

Did I mention that the sound is so good I can hear Plant breathing while counting the beat at the beginning of Tangerine?  For some that’s probably no big deal. But those who understand that Robert Plant is the greatest singer ever… But I die-gress.

Rant and rock on.


Reading The Footbed

Authoritarian Shoes? Yes. Authoritarians? No…?

First. I’m not selling anything. Seriously. Ok. Maybe I’m selling all–things-worst. Yeah. That’s good enough.

Second. I’ve always considered two parts of my body to be more important than other parts: teeth and feet. But don’t get me wrong. I don’t care if teeth are white and shinny. They just have to work and they never, never, never should be the cause of distress. Considering the year we live in and the fact that dental medicine still requires the butchering of teeth with drills and whatnot, I guess I should be glad my teeth work as well as they do.

I brush regularly and rarely have to floss–on account I have small, parted teeth. I have the feeling that finally switching to an electric toothbrush last year has actually increased my brushing efficiency. I only have one ceramic filling, three gold caps (two of which were caused by dentist error), no root-canals (knock on wood), and I have all my wisdom teeth. At almost fifty-five, I think I’ve done fairly well with my teeth.

My feet, on the other hand, is a whole ‘nother story.

So you know the question: if you had to do it again, would you do it the same?

My answer: fcuk yea! Except for a few caveats:

– I would definitely start earlier in life flipping The-Man the bird. You know, becoming worstwriter sooner, quitting, giving-up, telling wives that they’re vaginas really ain’t holy nor does their using them thangs as traps deserve social benefits or sympathy, etc. (So fcuk-you Melania #Trump and all you females that voted for her and that hair she married!)
– I also wouldn’t play contact sports
– And I probably would not hunt animals anymore, which I really do regret, even though some of them tasted mighty fine.

The most important issue not worth repeating/doing-over, though, is sports.

Even though I only played a contact sport for a few years in suburban-hell High School of my beloved & missed #Americant, to this day I’m still feeling it. Therefore, I both admire and feel sorry for professional athletes that actually make it through a (contact) sports career and can still touch their toes when they’re forty. Not to mention whether or not they can actually get out of bed instead of rolling out at forty-five. That said, I have a horrendous problem on my left heel (achilles) that is either Haglund’s deformity or a severe case of tendinitis. Although I’ve been to two doctors so far, I’ve been given little advice on what to do about my pain. One doctor was kind enough to inquire about my tolerance (of pain), adding that it will only get worse with age. Then she added that soft shoes will be part of the rest of my life. I’m convinced that the cause of this ailment that I have to endure was due to my lackadaisical acceptance of sport activity when I was young. (Then again, it did keep me out of trouble.) Although Haglund’s deformity is also hereditory, the extreme running (that I also did after I stopped playing contact sports; as a form of staying in shape) exacerbated the problem. To this day I cannot wear hard-heel shoes and most shoes I buy have to be at least one, if not one-and-a-half, size larger that my actual foot size.

If #Trump were a pair of shoes he’d be Birkenstock? Or?

No insult to Birkenstock intended.

Yes. We live in times of experimental authoritarianism and painful feet. We live in times where females, especially (something like) fifty-two percent of white, educated, married #Americant females, vote for a $hitbag man who they would otherwise (or not?) avoid like the plague. And let’s not forget the fact that we live in times where greed is the only show stopper. Is it any wonder that  consuming-to-survive constitutes greed? Indeed. But I’m off subject.

I’ve never owned a pair of Birkenstock sandals. Reason? I tried them once many, many years ago and thought them to be extremely painful to wear. I was told the discomfort had something to do with just getting used to them–and imagined after trying them that they too were like the militaristic environment that I was forced to grow up in. The military commanders of the day tried to convince me that all I had to do in order to make it with these über-house-shoes was to just get used to them. Yea. No. No thank you. 

So let’s spring forward twenty or thirty years.

My better half, knowing of my foot problems, suggested recently that we get Birkenstock because, she added, they can be kind of therapeutic. And since she also knows that I hate wood floors, which she’s made me walk on since we’ve been together and she’s the one that chooses where we live, her solution has always been house-shoes. But I hate house-shoes–and she knows it. Usually when she’s not looking, I put on thick socks instead of house-shoes. Although I used to like walking barefoot, times are a changin’ there too. And so. A few years back she bought me pair of Crocs and with a big smile handed them to me and demanded I wear them.

“They’re good for you!” she added. “And it’s unhealthy to walk around all day in your barefeet–at your age. Grow up!”

Whaaaaaa? But barefeet are cool…

There was no denying it. Nor could she avoid reality. I hated house-shoes and I rarely wore those disgusting plastic shoes she bought me. Of course, I also should add that I hate Crocs for another reason. They are typical marketing products. That is, they are a product conceptualised for money making only. Which means they are bad for feet. Real bad. 


I know. I know.

Capitalism is about money making first. But things have changed since the days Ford literally helped a country go from horse & buggy to transcontinental mobility. Am I wrong?

Ingenious smart-asses that have no room to manoeuvre in an economy and/or market on account EVERYTHING IS OWNED by the old and the sick and super-rich, they come up with ways anew to make money. Good for them, eh. Hence, Croc shoes equal no-cost to make, no need for product enhancement or advancement, push them out till people walk around in public wearing them–just as they’ve learned to walk around in public in their fcuking pyjamas. It is the new #Americant way since NAFTA/Globalisation has decimated manufacturing and all wealth has been given to the wealthy on account the poor and the middle class are stupid as fcuking rocks and keep electing money-grubbing conservatives as their representatives… blah blah blah.

The only credit I give to the Croc folks is that they new the #Americant $hit$how of greed was an impasse. And good for them. Talk about curbing the want of wealth creation. Obviously the guy that came up with Crocs earned his keep. And I hope he’s enjoying these days in the wake of (his) efforts in the comfort of his own Who Is John Galt fantasy. But to get back on subject…

To entertain my better half, who had at least three or four or five pairs of Crocs in the time I barely wore the one pair she bought me, I did give them a go. Getting rid of them recently was a godsend, though. I do not miss them. But my feet have been hurting of late because, well, she was right on one thing. I can’t keep walking around on hard, cold floors with nothing on my feet. So I gave in.

The first few days with what I like to call #Trump shoes was extremely painful. I call them #Trump shoes because, well, they really are authoritarian shoes. Unlike other shoes that fit to your feet, these Germanin constructs make your feet fit to them. The lady that sold them to me even mentioned that to break them in easier, I should wear them wet directly after a shower. Within a week I started to like them, even though they hurt. After about two months, I fell in love them. Never have my feet felt better–when in house-shoes and walking around on hard floors. Do I still have pain? Oddly, only when I take them off. My feet feel as though they are encased in something secure now. I walk on something rigid yet smooth. I tip toe while taking the trash out in something formed yet conforming. But there’s more. Did you know, dear worst-reader, that the foot-bed of Birkenstock shoes are like tea leaves? You know, as in tea-leaf reading?

As you’ll note from the pic, the dark spots on the foot-bed indicate pressure points. Obviously I still have very high arches (which is part of painful feet at my age–or so I’ve been told; my better-half’s shoes have practically no pressure points at all as she has much flatter feet). Also, I walk with most of my weight on the outside of my feet, which could be a reason for Haglund’s deformity in my left heel. And then there are those toes. I had no idear how much toes play a role in foot work/pain.

And on that note, I do die-gress.

Rant on.


From New To Old Or Skipping What’s In-Between

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1st Gen iPad Air, 2nd Gen Kindle Paperwhite, a fcuking real book!

Subtitle 1: E-Book reading. Looks like there’s no turning back (for worst-moi).

Subtitle 2: A pseudo-review of e-readers.

I first started e-reading on a Kindle 2. I loved the design of the Kindle 2, especially the analog page change buttons and the odd but fully functional keyboard that enabled the best note-taking (at the time) while reading electronic books. Luckily, including voice dictation, I think I’ve finally found a viable replacement for the only Kindle I’ve ever loved. More on that in a sec. Because the battery died on my Kindle 2 and Amazon offered no upgrade, I broke down and bought a Kindle Paperwhite while it was on sale. From day one I’ve hated the thing. Talk about technology going backwards! Ok. Ok. The “Paperwhite” screen is pretty good, especially during night reading. But to be honest, that really doesn’t matter until night lamps go the way of the Dodo. Also. What can one expect from a guy like Jeff Bezos, the greatest mooch and scavenger capitalist the world has ever seen? Or do you actually believe that hijacking already marginalised capitalism from the likes of Walmart and retail, physical book stores is really such an ingenious endeavour? Please. Amazon and Bezos suck bat balls on account he’s only found a way to lead in the race to the bottom. But before I get to far off subject.

I’ve pretty much given up on Kindle as my e-reading device (for now). Here a few reason:

  1. Eco-system. There’s basically three digital eco-systems that I would consider using. Amazon and Google have lost out to Apple (for now). But to be honest, if/when I have to change eco-systems, my next choice will be Google.
  2. 3G. When I needed it, it never worked. I remember once traveling through Asia and not being able to download a book for a research project. Not only that, when I finally connected to WIFI in an airport lounge, Amazon wouldn’t let me download the book that way either–something about copyright. Go figure!
  3. Performance and obsoletism. We’ve had three Kindles in our family so far. Sure, they are relatively cheap devices but now that Amazon has gone full expensive with their newest fancy-pants Kindle (as of 2016 or so), where’s this gonna go? Their colour screen tablets are a joke. They can’t make a phone. And that voice-AI speaker thing… No thanks!

Of all the Kindles we’ve had (I can’t remember exactly but it’s somewhere between three and four), they are all, after eighteen or so months, great door stops. The third gen Paperwhite in the pic above is also so incredibly slow that it’s no fun to use. Yeah, Jeff Bezos. Innovation ain’t just about bringing something to market but also making it better without breaking the bank.

Moving on.

I gave up using an iPad 4 three years ago. The main reason for giving it up was because 1) I’m a Mac guy and 2) I have an iPhone. Although I did learn to appreciate the iBooks interface and preferred it over the Kindle, the iPad 4 was just too heavy as a reading device. There are times when I read for more than two hours. But last year after my wife upgraded from her shattered iPad Air 2 to an iPad Pro, we also discovered in a drawer her shattered first gen iPad Air. We traded in the shattered iPad Air 2 and she got a pretty good deal on a new iPad Air Pro. But since Apple only lets you trade in one device for another device, we put the shattered first gen iPad Air back in the drawer. While visiting our local Apple store a few months later, I happened across a conversation with one of the dunces in the blue shirts. When I mentioned that I still had a shattered iPad Air he quickly checked inventory and told me that if I trade it in, he’ll sell me a brand new one for €250,-.

A brand new what, I asked.

Oh. Sorry, he said.

Even though Apple had just announced their new low-end iPad line which had a better processor and more storage, the hundred to hundred-fifty price difference wasn’t a factor. Reason? I don’t need an iPad. I especially don’t need a low-end iPad. I mean, let’s face it. As much as I fight it, it looks like Macs are doomed. Apple is going full iOS. I’ve since learned from my wife’s multiple iPad to iPad Pro experience, that I’m eventually gonna have to give in. Of course, it’ll take till iPads can drive a second monitor–as that’s the way I use both my 2016 MacBook and my 2015 MacBook Air–I’m putting off full iPad integration into my life. Again. All I really needed was a new e-reader on account of how much I hate the Kindle Paperwhite!

Long Apple-Store story short: I went home and got the shattered iPad Air. I traded it in and nervously paid €250,-. Gee, I thought, I just got the best e-book reader there is, didn’t I? And not only that. It really was a brand new first generation iPad Air with 32GB and cellular. It’s not even a refurbished one. Say what you will, dear worst-reader, about my lack of scruples when it comes to consuming tech $hit. I mean, I could have easily afforded the  new iPad. I just don’t need a new iPad for anything but watching the occasional video while it’s propped up in the kitchen and I’m cutting onions or I’m consuming lots and lots of research, reading, study, etc. Since the newest Kindle (that’s waaaay overpriced one) cost almost the same… Yeah, it was a no-brainer.

I think I lucked out. I’ve had the iPad Air (version A1475) as a news reader, the occasional Plex client, definitely a useful you-tube watcher and, when needed on account I’ve already purchased books there, it’s great with the Kindle app, for about six months now. And to be honest, I’m enjoying reading/using Apple’s iBooks more and more. Not only is the iPad Air much lighter than that iPad 4, but its also got a much better screen. The only negative with the iPad as an e-reader is the battery life. Yeah, Amazon does have the advantage with that one. Which means I have to charge the iPad every night… along with all the other krapp I have to charge. But then again, compared to the Kindle, it’s a fcuking computer beast.

As stated, I really like to interact with what I’m reading. I like to write short notes in the margins of pages (of real books) and also underscore text. The iPad does that huuuuuugely better than the Kindle. In fact, with the iPad I can highlight text and if I have a comment about the text, I then call up the note function and instead of using the cumbersome iPad keyboard, I just dictate my comment and voice recognition transcribes it. Also, if I need to write anything longer, I can immediately go to Apple’s Note app, which I’ve actually become more and more dependent upon even when using my Mac. So I’m really digging Apple’s eco-system right now. It works great when reading.

Who knows how long relations with Apple’s eco-system will last. Btw, I’m still not using iCloud for all my files. I prefer Dropbox for that. Also, as far as home media is concerned since we stopped watching TV ten years ago, I haven’t and don’t plan on upgrading my old AppleTV3 anytime soon. For one thing, as stated, we don’t consume TV anymore. When we do watch stuff, we do so through the internet or our Plex server which is on a 2010 headless MacPro in the basement. Replacing our living-room TV with a new bookshelf system where my wife and I are able to combine our entire (physical) book collection into a really, really cool private library, has been one of the best choices we’ve made yet when it comes to life and living at home.

Rant on.


Something Little More Than Site Maintenance Or How AWS Might Be Comparable To GM Of Yore

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Screenshot of moving fav domain.

Freeing myself of the juggernaut of scavenger capitalism that’s finally, utterly, taken over tech industry? Indeed. Dear worst-reader. I’ve been worst-saying it for years. Or at least been worst-saying it since that short stint in the advertisement industry–so many years ago–where I had to explain the #interwebnets to a whole host of numb-nut corporate college grads that couldn’t fight their way out of a wet paper bag. Oh what am I saying? I finally got around to moving my domain to a better place. Or at least I’ve moved it to a better place. At the least, I’m already relieved that I, in the near future, I’ll be cancelling my AWS account. Yeah, baby. Pretty scary stuff what Bezos & Co. have/can come up with while scraping the barrel.  Anywho. I’m sure Jeff Bezos & Co. are all a grand horde of nice people, once you get around their Dr. Evil, Data (as in Star Trek NG)–looks. It’s just that, well, I gave AWS a try but found it to be an astonishingly ugly tech environment that in its totality completely feeds off the creativity of others–in the purest form of exploitation I’ve seen yet. And to think that enterprises completely rely on Bezos for the their tech infrastructure! Scary. Scary. Scary. Yes. That’s where much of the tech world is today. Exploit. Exploit. Exploit. Forget creativity. Scary. Forget indeed. Or just check out Facebag & Co. In fact, I’d go so far as to worst-write that AWS might be comparable to what GM was when it consolidated the auto industry so so so many years ago. You know, Buick, Chevrolet, Pontiac used to be their own companies. Oldsmobile, too. (Anyone remember that one?) Yes, AWS is the GM of tech industry. Now remember that when the Government bails out AWS in the future. Let’s just worst-hope that there’s at least a Ford somewhere in tech industry that gives us another choice. (That’s right. When my mother had to buy a new car a few years back, I made sure it wasn’t anything from GM. Reason? GM was bailed out (by Barry-O) but Ford wasn’t.)

But I digress.

-Rant on


Things Are Moving Along Just Fine In The Land Of The Docile Free To Be Stupid


Something to ease the minds of the dumb-downed as another useless evening presents itself in the wake of my beloved and missed #americant dealing with a grand new-fangled tax scam from president smart for the rich and stupid for the rest of you suckers. Also wondering who the college grads are that set up all this digital krapp that’s so blatantly in my way. (If I only knew my way.) And get this: You can actually buy a movie on #itunes for less than renting it. I’m worst-wondering how this relates to the day. Also wondering what did all those college grads actually learn in college that has gotten us here?

That’s right. They all majored in…

#edumacation, baby.

Rant on.


How To Hug Your Abuser, Face Your Poison

drink your poison
Poison: the deserved drink of choice for most stupid, ugly, arrogant, mostly white power-monger idiots.

What’s the one thing that connects all of the recent sex abuse bullshit, dear worst-reader? Ok. Yea. It might be something about stupid white men. (But then there’s the few and far between non-white men that seem to do the same thing.) Then there’s the issue of power. Yea. That’s the ticket, ain’t it? Or maybe not. Indeed. Is there a single thing, a thread that weaves through all this krapp that is #americant and a bit too much daddy-do-good mixed with sexual repression? And so. Are you sitting down, dear worst-reader? Cause here comes some worst-writer galore. Yea, baby!

Pick. Your. Poison.

We are now deep into a world that is literally sustaining itself on

  1. the laurels of the past,
  2. the nothingness of the now and
  3. the meritlessness of the future.

Mixed together, baby, this is our poison. And. As you know. Poison doesn’t necessarily have to kill you. But there’s more.

Not only Matt Lauer but also Charlie Rose–and a whole bunch of other men-of-ill-repute–did not get where they are without sharing one very important thing. They were able to get ahead, to get their outrageous contractual paydays, all that money/power because they rode the backs of the willing. That’s right, baby. Thousands, tens of thousands, millions of people who could have done what these men do–to get their power–could also do their job. But instead they let their backs be ridden. Did you get that? Let me worst-re-write it again.

There is nothing these men do that millions of others couldn’t do. Just like most people/men who run corporations these days, don’t you know. In fact, it’s no different than war-mongers. Or perturbed patriarchs that claim to love their families. The only difference is that these nut jobs that are all over the mind bending airwaves are the cream of the crop of meritlessness run amok. Which begs the question: How the fuck do you get on someones back?

A little, bitter side story from worst-writer’s past:

I met with a marketing manager once from the corporate headquarters of Adidas in Germany. We were pushing some fancy new URL parsing software to them that would enable a new level of marketing and merchandising on the Internet (late 90s). At the time the software was perfect for manufacturers of consumer products. But here’s the thing. I was there for two days pitching our software and I had to meet with the vice president of corporate marketing. Whoopee, eh! But guess what? The guy turned my stomach. I mean, he was a perfect human specimen–if you’re life is a glossy magazine that appeals to a meritless consume-to-survive society. He was over six feet tall. He had perfect full hair that together with his full shaven beard was perfectly groomed every moment of the day. I mean, he had one of those full beards that grew while you were talking to him. In fact, I’m sure he had the most expensive Braun razor in his office where he could shave three or four times a day. His clothes were perfectly tailored, including his shoes. He looked as though he was in perfect health, too. Yet when he opened his mouth at certain moments while being pitched he was as stupid as a redneck stuck under a car named the general lee. The guy could barely formulate a sentence. Of course, he was German and the whole pitch was in English. But come on. A guy this high on the corporate ladder and he mumbled like a moron and he barely knew what the Internet was? How do these people get these jobs?

But before I get too far off subject.

My worst-point is this. Sex scandal here or there, it’s time for someone to grow up.  Between the abusers and the accusers–this is getting out of hand. Where will all this lead? The way all these men are dropping from their worlds has something more to say about the world than it does about male behaviour. And as far as all the women are concerned… It might be time to consider not turning your trauma into a farce. Charlie Rose and Matt Lauer earn the big bucks, right? Yet maybe it’s time to ask a simple question: how do these people get ahead while leaving so many others behind?

Now don’t get me wrong. I got no problem with big money earners. That is, as long as you earn the money on your own back. It’s when you earn it on the backs of others… That’s when I get ticked-off. And I’m starting to get the feeling that a lot of women out there are also going that extra greedy mile to get something off the back of someone else–just because they can. Matt Lauer and Charlie Rose and Harvey Weinstein all earn outrageous sums of money. And for what? Indeed. Who are the people that so gallantly (sarcasm off) enable these assholes?

Corporatism. Tribalism. Get your gun (or poison) Johnny!

Even if I’m way off base bringing together a war-mongering criminal like the asshole in the pic above and the likes of Matt Lauer, I’m gonna go with it. There is something that all of these people have in common. There is something out there the enables men and their abuse. Power? Money? Greed? Sex? Nationalism? Blah. Blah. Blah. The state-of-things means that it’s time for a lot more people to check their poison drawers. Humanity can only take so much meritlessness.

Rant on.


Links that motivated this post:

Consume To Survive vs. Amazilla

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Get a load of that discount. 56%????

Update: May the heavens be blessed (if you believe in that sort of thing). To my worst-surprise, my consume-to-survive order that is supposed to help with cleaning my ageing teeth arrived today. Wow. If you can believe the original price posted (Euro299,99) then this was a pretty good deal. Yeah, baby.

Haven’t been posting much in July. Something about the Germania weather this time of year. Even though the weather (and everything else) sucks here, this time of year seems to be the worst. They call it Drucken. It’s as though you have to walk around in a thick, pressing atmosphere where the breath and stench of too many people crowded into too small a place doesn’t mix well with a grey sky that wants to annihilate you. But enough about the misery of too much health insurance and worst-moi.

Today dear worst reader it’s time to worst-blog about consumerism. You know, that thing we all have to do above and beyond surviving like our ancestors once did. Since I make no effort to hide my position in this world as a consumer–and what a lucky one at that–there are moments where even I get a bit perturbed with how The Man tries to control me and my consumption. For example. I decided recently to give in to the electric toothbrush craze. I’ve avoided it most of my adult life, even though my better-half has been using one most of her adult life. Since she needs to replaced her old one, because the battery doesn’t hold a charge anymore–and because it looks like it’s been used to clean things other than teeth–I broke down and started searching for a deal. And boy did I find one.

The deal of the day, dear worst-reader is encapsulated in the screenshot above. I found an offer on that internet shopping portal that I couldn’t refuse. Is it two for the price of one or is buy one get one free? To be honest, I’m not sure if I’ll ever find out. Ordered over a week ago, I still haven’t received my purchase. I did get an email the other day that said something about they were working on my order but I couldn’t make heads or tales out of whether or not they (or someone else) had just pulled the wool over my eyes. I mean, come on, more than half off the original price of a new-fangled tech-driven electric toothbrush?

As of the writing of this worst-post, I’ve not received my order. But then I did come across a tweet that opened up an eye or three. By-the-buy, this is the second time I’ve ordered something with such a large discount on Amazilla. The first time the order was cancelled for me. We’ll see how this one goes.

Rant on.


Other links: