Wednesday, February 22, 2006

Don't ya just hate it when...

...Weasels who've done something once or twice then boast a level of proficiency far beyond mortal men.

...Weasels who will not tolerate any opinion other than their own, to the point of making a total fool of themselves in the "that's not what I said" litany employed by the terminally pompous.

...The terminally pompous whine and whinge before taking into account the possibility that theirs may not be the definitive say on EVERY matter.

...He-Man-Women-Haters try to disguise themselves as open minded web log authors.

Welcome to the web. Internet muscles galore. Ego's the size of Texas. Small people climbing so high above their intellectual capacity one is amazed that a collective nose bleed prodigous enough to make the New Orleans flood seem picayune in comparison doesn't short circuit the entire deal in one gay swoop. And pardon my use of that word. To me it doesn't mean homosexual, and I shouldn't use it as much as I do because to others it does. Gay is a surrey with a frilly little fringe on the top. Plenty of them posing as one thing or another in the attempt to hide what they truly are. But have courage. Never too late to fess up, but the longer one strains at it, the greater the chance of flat out spitting the bit.


Anonymous said...

Weasels who've done something once or twice then boast a level of proficiency far beyond mortal men

I am afraid I have been guilty of that more often that I feel comfortable admitting.

You can do two things when reality slaps you in the face: You can run home crying to mommy, or you can work the problem, learn from your mistakes and learn how to be more humble.

In fact recently I was slapped across the face with reality because a customer insisted on a pop3 mail server.

Objective lesson in stated capabilities and actual capabilities.

Fits said...

Ah hell, bad, who hasn't padded the old resume when it comes to dealing with a client. If I admitted to the times I claimed to be capable of hitting a kite string at 100 yards, well, it'd be a lot. I was speaking of a certain type of person that does this as a matter of course. Nothing against sitting around the campfire and swapping tall tales. That's what guys do. The sort of jerkwad I was referring to is the sort who can make one good cup of coffee then is on the net screaming at others that they do not know shit from shinola. I see it on the gun boards day in and day out, and in this particular instance you know darn well who it was I kvetch'd about.