There are way too many rant pages on the Internet!
But of course, I wouldn't be able to rant about that unless I had my own. Consider it a sinkhole for my anger.
And since I can't be bitter all the time, I'll pepper these pages with a few odd things I notice in life, too.
Biased Observations and Obligatory Rants
A Presentation of The Big Waste of Space Wanna see more?
June 2001 Previous Rants:  
June 29
Have you seen these tinted license-plate covers? If you haven't, the basic concept is this: They're plastic covers that are tinted and go over a car's license plates, rendering the plates almost impossible to read.

How can these things be legal? The only legitimate purpose the covers serve is to obscure the plate numbers, making it difficult to identify the vehicle. And only someone prone to committing some act that would warrant having to identify the vehicle would want to make identification difficult.

Getting on the highway with one of these things on your car is almost like walking into a convenience mart with pantyhose over your head. You know, just in case.

June 22
I learned a valuable lesson today. Never open a container of Carmex over your vehicle's passenger seat after it has been residing all day in a black toolbox that has been spending a 92-degree Texas summer day in the trunk.

Did you know that stuff melts?

June 13
OK, so I'm getting a little tired of all the hoopla over how much easier technology is supposedly making things. Everything at the touch of a button, they claim. And, oh, how much quicker we get our information. E-mail is a godsend isn't it wonderful not having to wait in a telephone queue?

Well, yes and no. I love e-mail. It does make it easier to keep in touch with people. I can always reply to e-mail at my convenience.

The problem is, so can businesses. Reply to my e-mail at their convenience, that is. Too many companies have made it impossible, or at least very, very difficult, to contact them by anything other than e-mail. And who the hell knows where that e-mail goes.

There was a time when I could dial a 1-800 number and ask a real person a question. And more often than not, that person would give me an answer. Whether or not it was the correct answer is irrelevant whoever's supposed to be answering the e-mail is the same incompetent guy who used to be on that phone the point is that, by phone, I got an answer usually within 10 minutes. When I ask my question via e-mail, God only knows when I'll get a reply. It could be in a couple of hours, it could be tomorrow. Hell, I've gone two weeks before getting a reply. And far too often, I never get a reply at all. A touch-tone menu is nothing.

Sometimes it's a simple question that, once answered, would finalize my decision to buy a product. Explain to me in what way making a person wait two days to find out if the blades are interchangeable helps either the company or the customer. I asked a Web hosting company two days ago about their statistics software and had I got an answer immediately, they would already have my money. Yet, I'm still waiting and I'm now considering another host. The only problem now is when they will get back to me.

Why do we stand for this? If we don't do something now, the problem will only get worse. Phone numbers will cease to exist for any service. Heed my warning! There will come a day when paramedics may, or may not, respond to!

June 8
Remember when video games were a quarter? A few years ago, a pocket full of change would ensure hours of entertainment. You could head to the local Putt-Putt and play Galaga or Q-Bert even if you had nothing more than a few ones in your pocket. If you wanted to splurge, you could stick a whole 50 cents in the air-hockey table.

Then came games like Dragon's Lair and CyberBall not to mention the sit-down simulator games and prices started to rise. Two quarters, three quarters...a dollar. When I saw my first dollar arcade game I freaked. "A dollar? Who would pay a dollar to play a video game??"

But now, well, good luck finding any game that will even let you watch the introduction for as little as a dollar. A night at an arcade could cost a couple hundred bills for the same three hours of mindless fun I had when I was a kid.

Even 18 holes of video golf is six bucks. Six bucks! Can you even imagine sticking a five-dollar bill in a machine back in 1983? Hell, a friend and I shelled out somewhere in the vicinity of thirty dollars last night at the Blarney Stone to play a couple rounds of golf.

OK, so regular readers of this page will be aware of my feelings toward video golf, but hey...after four or five beers, almost anything's fun.

By the way, I made 23 over par.

June 7
I learned a valuable lesson in a dream last night. An oil drum full of beer, when properly shaken, serves as a deadly explosive.
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Wanna see more? A Presentation of The Big Waste of Space