More Ramblings From The Before -Times

  Besides being primitive as Hell despite our best attempts to seem all "Future-y" (and why not? The 40's and 50's had given us ample predictions of future life, with flying cars, teleportation, perfect health and silvery jump suits for all), being over 60 also includes things bending that never bent before while other things, things that had always bent, no longer do. Vision, hearing, taste, memory - all take a nose dive, unless you have loads of cash, or "credits", as the 50's would have had us believe we would all have oodles of. Credits we earn through our 2 hour per week job, perfectly suited to our personal preferences and skill sets, which we absolutely LOVE, and scarcely even think of as work. That 2 hour schedule, plus the enormous amount of credits we receive, leaves us with both the time and the means to turn our energies to science, the arts, and generally making the world a better place for all who occupy this once magnificent ball of dirt. So, yeh. All disease, poverty, racism, crime, class disparity have all been eradicated, and we live in perfect harmony, wanting for nothing. The ugly, depressing reality isn't even close. Anyone not belonging to the hated, yet obeyed, venerated and pandered to, 1% is forced to toil away at total shit jobs for long hours and crap pay just to stay alive. Some even have to work multiple jobs, and some of those who slave for the Walton family (at least in the U.S.A.) have to draw social assistance even with a "full time" job. Sad, innit? Sad that rich fucks can't seem to share. Sad that, even though we hugely outnumber them, the streets remain dry, rather than running red with the blood of the elite. Think about it, we could easily slaughter the lot of them, and it would hardly even cut into our afternoon. Think about it.

  Now, as an elderly gent, I must nap.Until next time, be safe and don't take any shit.

TRS

What I’ve noticed over the past 62 years

or

Memories from the BeforeTimes.

Part 1

62 years.

Sixty – two years. 

Siiixxx – teeeeee – twooooo FUCKING YEARS!

That’s how long I’ve been stumbling around this once (though no longer, thnx to us) beautiful planet, which I’m sure is a hefty kick in the nuts to all those who voted me ‘Most likely to be dead by age 30’.  Although, in their defense, it’s not like I didn’t try. Between really bad judgment, oceans of alcohol washing down inhuman amounts of every kind of pill, paired up with the vigorous, enthusiastic abuse of more substances than most people even know exist, I would not have bet against them.  In fact, I’m probably more surprised than they are, having more than doubled the life expectancy they saw fit to estimate for me.   But what surprises me even more is some of the shit I’ve seen and done during those years.  Here are just a few examples, in no particular order and hopefully real, not just some instances of the Mandela Effect.

 Telephones – if someone wanted to get hold of you, they had to call you at home because the phone was physically attached to the wall. If you were already talking to someone, any other callers got a ‘busy’ signal, no call waiting or voice mail. Plus, you could lie about where you were if necessary, not like today, where your friends can locate you via GPS. No touch screens or push buttons either, just a good old rotary dial and only one ring tone – an actual physical bell inside the phone.

 Video Players  -- When we got to see a video in class, it was a massive effort – couple guys from the Audio Visual club would wheel in the video player on a huge cart (the machine was too heavy and awkward to carry), then they’d pull out the giant reel of video tape, one inch at first, then down to a mere half inch a few years later, and thread the tape through a complicated series of cogs and slots. Before tapes, I recall filmstrips and scratchy 16mm film projectors.  The first VCRs I saw for home use were around $2,000, and the first of the ongoing format wars was fought out between VHS and BETAMAX.

  Electronics – My generation’s level of tech savvy can be summed up in three words – Pong Impressed Us. Big groups of us would skip out of school, get baked on shitty Colombian dirt weed, and spend 5 or 6 hours having tournaments, stunned rigid that we could play table tennis right in our living room.  We never got bored with that stupid square pixilated ‘ball’ because we had never seen anything like it before, and years later, you could still see the tell tale ball and paddles burned into the TV screen, eternal witness to the biggest technological breakthrough in home entertainment the world had seen thus far.  It was only a couple of years before SPACE INVADERS and ASTEROIDS came out, (big, standup arcade machines, we had to wait for home versions), and we knew we were diving headlong into the marvelous Future the 50’s had promised us, and meals in pill form couldn’t be far behind.

  Calculators – The first electronic calculators we saw were from Texas Instruments, about twice the size of a paperback, and cost around $350. Once again, these portable math computers that anyone could own astounded us. Boy, we were living right out there in the fucking sci-fi future!

  Home Computers-  I remember the first computer store opening in Semiahmoo Mall, in White Rock, and we got curious and went for a look. I’m going to keep this short, mainly due to the embarrassment re: what was thought of as a ‘home computer’ back in the Before Times. Ready? Here we go  - Huge, bulky desk top system with a monochrome screen, heavy as fuck, less memory than a wristwatch has today, everything had to be loaded separately on big 5.5inch floppy disks all for the low low price of around $20,000. We didn’t get one.

Next time, we’ll get into Color TV, Cable TV and what we had to go through if we wanted to view an ‘Adult’ movie at home.

Please feel free to comment, let me know what advances you remember, no matter what era you hail from, and, as always

Be safe and don’t take any shit!

T.R.S.

Well, gang, Spring is almost upon us and, as we all know, that can mean only one thing: oh yeh - cooking outside!  Whether you have a tiny hibachi barely big enough to make burgers for two, or one of those chrome monsters with a hundred knobs, capable of roasting a  Buick, and we're not talking any of those new toy Buicks of recent years, oh HELL no! We are talking Buick Fucking Electra 225, the only non-Cadillac in history to ever be accepted world wide as a legitimate conveyance for those involved in the Pimping Sciences.  But regardless of the type of BBQ you plan to use, you will be, as I mentioned, cooking outside.  Outside is where I often find myself (when I haven't been paying attention), and so, in order to make being outside more pleasurable for me and mine, I have once again braved that twisted wasteland that is my brain to search for anything that might inspire all you outdoor chefs to hasten out of my way. And what could possibly provide sufficient incentive to send all the street chefs scurrying away with their hands desperately covering the ears of their ill conceived spawn, lest their little sensibilities be shattered? You guessed it - socially unacceptable lyrics!  And so, without any further french words, here we go!

Swing Time

I hope you die like a pig

At the slaughterhouse gate.

Hope you die like a refugee

Who starves while he waits

For a little bit of kindness

A single ray of hope

Don't look to me for that'

You're at the end of your rope.

And...

It looks like it's Swing Time

Psycho-billy Cheater's Song

There's a penis in my pants, and it sure ain’t mine.

Some other fella must have left it behind.

Gonna show it to my girl so I can see

By her reaction if the bitch is fuckin' round on me.

There's a penis in my pants that don't belong to me.

It fell out of my zipper when I went to pee.

Now, I know I'm not gay, so here's the score -

I guess that's what I get for goin' out with a whore.

It sure looks to me like my gal is cheatin',

But I decided to talk, instead of handin' her a beatin'.

Her answer nearly gave me a heart attack -

She'd found a cunt in her panties, so she's paying me back!

There, good enough for now, I doubt anyone has read down this far anyway, so, as always:

Be safe, and don't take any shit.

TRS

Own your own shit, wipe your own bum.

Right. Gonna fire off a couple quick lines, which is in some small way intended to excuse the horrific neglect I have heaped upon this innocent blog. And what I'd like to spew about is this: 

In 'The Before Times', where many of my friends and I grew up, if someone did something crappy, or got caught doing something wrong, they would react in the strangest way, in a way that confuses the fuck out of many of todays enlightened individuals. They would (are you ready for this?) - ADMIT THEIR MISTAKE , and ... AND ... ACCEPT FULL RESPONSIBILITY FOR THEIR ACTIONS!  

Now I realize that many of you will see this as plain old common sense, just something you don't need to be told, and it is you people who are, right this second, saying "Cool. RobScenity has snapped. He is babbling the glaringly obvious. We become bored with his antics."  And you would be both correct and justified, were it you I was addressing. It wernt. I'm not going to mention any names, nor shall I go into any detail on the 'incident' in question - you all know exactly who I'm referring to, and he knows who he is.  Wipe your own ass, own your own shit and stop spending all your time looking for someone to blame. It's you, dickhead. You are to blame. It's your fault, so it's time you grow a pair and man up. It's people like you that have ruined the way things used to work, and I, for one, feel your actions or lack thereof, warrant a good, old fashioned boot-fucking. Just for starters....

Until next time,

Be safe & don't take any shit.

TRS

We Don't Want Your Fucking war