The musings of a madman...

Until my fortunes change, I am an IT specialist by day, a writer when time allows, and murderous supervillain by night . Sometimes I lose sight of which “job” I am on and do some supervillain shit when I need to be earning a paycheck. F’rinstance, there was last week at work… Monday: Nurse:  “Let me start off, sir, by saying that I am totally computer illiterate, but I need your help. This printer is not working and I don’t know what to do.” Me : “Have you rebooted the computer and the printer?” Nurse:  “I think so.” Me:  “You’ve checked physical connections and supplies, right?” Nurse:  “No, but I can right now.” *checks* “Everything seems to be fine on that front” Me:  “Well ma’am, have you taken off your shirt before cursing at the device while flinging poo at it?” Nurse:  “I can’t imagine that would fix this issue.” Me:  “Sure it would lady, I do this every day. I am the professional here and you called me for he...

True Story©…                 My level of disdain for people who fake wittiness is beyond measure.  Also, sometimes I have a hard time maintaining my temper in response to such things.  With that in mind, I fucking HATE hashtags for the sake of hashtagging.  I understand the use of them for discussions on a topic on social media, like last night’s debate or MLB playoffs games.  But cramming a sentence preceded by a pound sign under a post with no spacing because you thought it was witty is enough to send me into a rage.  Seeing them on an email, text message or even a fucking t-shirt makes it even worse still.                 One day last year, I decided that I’d had enough after a rough morning on The BookFace.  I was off work and home, and several consecutive posts contained the worthless hashtagging s...