Moving aside

One of the things I’m growing a little tired of is getting out of the way.

You know what I mean? There you are, walking causally next to someone at the mall or something. Oncoming group gets too close, you move behind your friend. Then you come abreast a few steps later, only to be corralled behind them again in a few more steps.

Do I have “push over” tattooed on my face? I’m a fairly burly guy–five foot seven, forty inch chest, I’m not a wisp of a dude. The fact that seven to 70 year olds think they can just proceed through me like a mist is a point that eventually I’m going to rectify. Inertia will win in some of these cases, motherfuckers, so be warned. And when you spill your $50 coffee and break a hip, I’ll just glare and dare you to say something.

I suppose I do clear out of the way due to some semblance of manners my folks taught me. Better to trouble yourself than be a burden to others. But it gets to the point where some of these bastards don’t even acknowledge you at all.

“Oh, excuse the fuck out of me, I don’t mind at all to break my conversation off so I can accommodate your 250-pound frame. No, no, go ahead and walk on whatever side of the goddamn mall you want, I’m here to move the fuck over.”

Have some compassion for a working man, here!

Maybe it comes from a feeling of insecurity–don’t most things come from that? Maybe I want to eventually achieve that level of accomplishment where motherfuckers get out of the damn way–like a drill sergeant or general or something. But then, on second thought, I’d be the Ben-Gay smelling bastard they’d poke fun of after hours. So, meh.

Still, you keep walking directly into me and we’ll see if my God given patience lasts another day. Otherwise I might just take the heft God left me and demonstrate my battle-hardened resolve.

Excuse you, bitches. Belee’dat.

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Can you hear me now?

I’ve never been a huge fan of the recording industry. I suppose it goes along with my working man’s distrust of insurance, college tuition, cell phone bills and every other institution who exist to siphon off my dollars with piddly-ass fees.

This Wired article was passed to me today. It’s chronicling the ongoing battle between radio stations and the recording industry. Nothing new, really, they’ve been biting each other in the tits for decades.

The recording industry has been pushing Congress to pass law to require radio stations to pay royalties to music labels, composers and songwriters.

A bill is both in the Senate and the House (that’s two bills, mind you, one each, remember your social studies on legislation). The House might vote as early as Thursday on the royalties measure, and the Senate bill is in committee (i.e., let the vote-hungry Representatives hash out their party-line battles and then we’ll act on ours if it even passes).

What I found interesting is that the recording industry said radio stations are a form of piracy. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, for all these years, throughout the roaring ’20s, the rock ‘n’ roll decades and beyond, radio stations have been acting illegally, ripping off the recording industry.

The argument for both sides is as follows: Radios now make billions off of the recording industry. Meanwhile, artists gain much of their fame through radio.

If the bills pass, radio stations would have to pay fees to music labels and the artists themselves.

So, who’s being the unreasonable party? Is it the broadcasters, who provide airplay at no cost? Is it the recording industry, who provide the content?

Or is it both, who just need to keep making billions and each realize that they can’t tax the shit out of everything?

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Liberation!

W00t.

Welcome, peeps, to the Jerkface Brigade, where we excel at being jerks with faces. Want to join up? Just leave a crap ton of comments poking and prodding at the authors and I’m sure you’ll win your way into the shit lists of all those involved. Have at it.

JFB will be a tidy little place where we can let loose on some things. The beautiful thing about blogs is that the stuff doesn’t even have to be “change my life” awesome. We’re not trying to sell a script here. We’re just venting, griping, whatever. ‘Cause it’s man’s God given right to gripe. That’s why I fight, friends.

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