When Tools Attack June 30, 2006
Apparantly, in the shady world of online dating, nothing is more hardcore than JDate, and we’ve got the proof.
Check out these incredible voicemail messages, from the “king of stalkers”, some dude named Darren, demanding that his date pay up on a bill from a dinner date after things fizzled. We were actually a bit nervous to post these because he might try to send us a “summons” or maybe “contact our employeer.” Ha ha, what a douchebag.
What a piece of work this guy is. Too bad we don’t have his address because it would be incredible to upper-deck every toilet in his house.
Here’s the original email we received which contains some of his incredibly beautiful prose as well.
Here is the story:
6/4/2006 - Dinnertime
So Joanne meets Darren on JDate.com, and they set up a date for June 4th at the China Grill in NYC. They go out to dinner and Joanne offers to split the bill, but Darren insists on paying.
6/19/2006 - Evening
Darren leaves a message on Joanne’s home answering machine telling her that since she didn’t want a second date that she should split the cost of the dinner with him, and follows up with this email:
From: Darren :
Date: Jun 19, 2006 8:48 PM
Sorry things didn’t work out. I guess you changed your mind.
Here is my address for the $50 bucks:
XXX East XXth Street, Apt. XXX
More hardcore Darrenator action after the jump…
Focus on Facism, Y’all June 26, 2006
We received a report today from Gfunk, a ranger correspondant who has the incredible tenacity to read Citizen magazine — Focus on Family’s monthly publication and excrement recepticale. James Dobson sucks so much that we would rather spend the month stuck in a giant Mikey Mouse costume, outdoors in 99 degree, 100% humidity Orlando weather, being repeatedly punched in the balls by 10 year olds than have to read the neadertahlic drivel they churn up. We don’t know how he does it, but here’s Gfunk’s take:
If you want a real eye opener to the agenda of the most dangerous organization in the country, check out Citizen Magazine, the official publication of Focus on the Family. It’s amazing how many articles these lunatics write about the horrors of cloning and scientific research when they are in the business of making an army of religious clones themselves. In an attempt to make Zach dela Rocha proud and to know my enemy, I try to suffer through the magazine every time it hits my mailbox (I won’t go into why I get it in the first place).
Recently I came upon a commentary written by an outraged Matt Kauffman, in which he describes the “forces of political correctness” conquering the battlefront of nursery rhymes. It seems that in Britain, several schools have opted to change the words of the nursery rhyme Baa-Baa Black Sheep to Baa-Baa Rainbow Sheep. This switch came about in an effort to avoid singling out any one on account of their “race, gender, or anything else.”
Look, people should be able to say whatever they want, fine. But let’s not bullshit about it. Matt Kauffman is pissed because he thinks that the term black sheep either doesn’t single out anyone, or isn’t offensive. Yeah, and the Stars and Bars is all about heritage. Call me what you want, but I am definitely a touchy feely hippie type that wants people to feel good about themselves, and I think that’s a good thing. Why not err towards feeling good. Does the word “black” in this nursery rhyme matter that much to you Matt?
Actually, Mr. Kauffman explains his position as a defense of reality.
A staffer at one of them notes that singing about black and white sheep encourages tots to “look around them” and notice “reality.”
Notice reality while you can, kids. Some day, if the PC forces have their way, it may not be allowed.
Ah yes, reality. Got it. Say Matt, perhaps if you ever find yourself lost in the PC world, you’ll be able to find a talking black sheep to help you find your way back to reality.
Oh snap. Actually, now that Gfunk mentions it, we remember why Matt Kauffman is so out of touch with reality right now. It’s because we dosed him with Ketamine recently on a secret ninja mission to the FoF headquarters deep in the heart of Jesusland. We upperdecked his toilet too, for good measure.
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Yeah, yeah, yeah. So screw you guys who think that the GR has been weak lately. There just isn’t enough interesting crap to be writing about during the summer. We recruited a pair of new rangers to help out as we descended into our post-spring riding withdrawal, but unfortunately, both of ‘em have turn out to be as useless as tits on a boar.
So, for the few of you who HAVE decided to check in lately, you’ve been getting squatty. Deal with it, we don’t get paid for this, and besides, this blog would suck even worse than it does if everyday we put up a new post about how it sucks when its hot out, how not riding a snowboard sucks, how it sucks that it’s not snowing, etc.
One dude who seems to be moving along just fine without the snowfall is Shaun White, featured yesterday in a decent article in the Washington Post about his transition from full time snowboarder to full time media whore, to full time skateboarder. Apparently the dude thinks he can win some shit this summer. We’ll definitely be watching the Summer X Games when they roll around this August, but will likely be paying little attention to Senior Blanco if Danny Way is charging a giant big air ramp again.
An even more interesting read is the “Ask Travis Rice” feature posted recently on Lib Tech’s Blog. Rice discusses, among other things, his wiping strategy, losing his Jackson Hole pass, and a few other important existential issues. We do really like Shaun White, but seriously, it sucks that there isn’t an Olympic event for best air over a giant backcountry booter, because T Rice would win that shit for sure, and then he’d be all over our TV and newspapers too.
Alright kids, that’s it for now. We do promise some more content in the near future — we are working on a snowboarder’s guide to Las Vegas as well longboard review for summertime which may or may not be completed by the fall. Keep in mind that a promise from the GR is about as meaningful as a wink from a Las Vegas stripper.