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Archive for May, 2007

Dear  Craft Show Patrons,
This Mamorial Day weekend you strolled past the fountain, through the big square at Lincoln Center and heard beautiful violin music. You were drawn out of curiosity to approach my table. This is where you and I (the salesperson) have a problem. I expect you, the paying customer, to ask a few polite questions about the music and either A: buy a CD of the music, or B: walk away.
But NOOOO! It’s not that simple with you people!

Firstly, if you’re elderly, you insist on telling me that your grandaughter(son) plays the violin. And I care about this why? Please keep your useless information to yourself, or failing that, go tell it to the lamp post, because REALLY, I DON’T CARE!

This also goes for persons who have played the violin in the past or are thinking of taking up the violin. Very nice, I wish you all the best, but don’t bore me with your useless chitchat. I am busy trying to sell a product here.

Secondly, all of you insane NY-ers: stop trying to scam me into giving you a discount or a free CD! I am already selling these CD’s at a fair price and we offer several deals to you.

Thirdly, to the tiny little lady who kept begging for a free  CD: No, they are not free. The guy playing a 9 hour marathon violin concert behind me worked very hard to arrange, edit, engineer and pay to get these suckers manufactured so he can SELL THEM! It’s called A BUSINESS! Just because it’s beautiful music doesn’t mean it’s a hobby! You’re getting a friggin free concert! Buy a CD if you like the music! Otherwise, go away you bunch of lunatics!

Thank you for your patronage.

J.P.

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This rant by Lily S. has been wildly popular, so I recorded a video about it last night.

I tried a blue screen on my iMovie by getting a plug-in. If anybody has any better blue screen plug-ins, let me know.

More to come with better effects and (much) better quality. Submit your own video responses on our YouTube profile or keep submitting rants. You never know when your fabulous rant will turn into a video!

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SmallClutching, not a fan of modesty

Roland Emmerich was the only man that could have directed ‘Independence Day’, likewise only Kubric could have made ‘Clockwork Orange’ and Sellers was the only man capable of pulling off ‘Dr. Strangelove’.

But if they made a movie about my cock, there would be only one team of professionals worthy of helming the massive project – N.A.S.A.

The scale would be enormous. Lucas’s THX sound would not suffice, because the deep thrombing sub-bass level bass deep noises my shlong makes would take a new advance in delivery only a team of approximately
340,000 Harvard trained scientists could muster.

The visuals, of course, would be presented digitally, no finer definition would deliver the full levels of colour and vibrancy expected by an eager public awaiting visual presentation of such a monolithic slice of shaft.

Puny Meg-naplex 3300 screens would have to be significantly rescaled to contain the full breadths of my pulsating member, anomorphic enhancement would be impossible. It would have to be presented in true scale – and this in itself would present a delivery problem on a scale with the virgin birth of Christ.

The narration would call for a voice on the level of James Earl Jones – James could deftly explain the nuances of my cock to a frightened audience, explaining the history of a shaft so significant that it defies the Gausian curve and makes play with prior theories of physics and geography – yes geography!

The news coverage would be global, the premier attended by royalty, presidents and leaders from all nations. There would be visits by beings from other planets – initially questioning the time delay in their satellite transmissions from Earth – but later realising that the problems were due to a tear in the fabric of time from my morning wood.

Box office chaos would bankrupt many smaller countries- causing massive bans and censorship leading to widespread world wars, famine and poverty, as the 3rd world saved up to buy tickets to see my cock on screen.

But, at the end of it all, standing in the smoking ruins of the planet, all peoples would come together in the shadow and feel a sense of pride and hope at winessing one of the miracles of the universe gliding across their skylines. All hail the collosal serpent. The tattoo on it’s monster head reads…

“The road of excess leads to the palace of wisdom… know what is enough until we know what is more than enough.”

William Blake

Rantasaurus Says: I’m sorry, but I think this is absolutely fucking hilarious. We need more rants like this folks. This is comic gold.

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Tyrantasaurus, is on to you

It’s been a while, ironically, since anything has gotten my blood boiling like what happened today. In my non-Rantasaurus time I work at a restaurant, I work in the kitchen and I answer the phone. It’s great. However, I have to deal with telemarketers who call small businesses. I’ve been on the telemarketing end… my first job out of college was selling web hosting over the phone. However… either from the caller’s perspective or the answerer’s, I’ve never seen something like this happen.

I answer the phone and someone says: “I’m looking for Thomas, I’m his financial advisor.”

The area code is one I don’t recognize and, even worse, while ‘Thomas’ is the restaurant owner’s given name, he goes by his middle name, at least to everyone that matters. I try to respond when the man interrupts himself.

“Actually, let me just have your fax number,” and then, “on second thought, can I speak to Thomas?”

This stinks like a sales call so I tell him that ‘Thomas’ is not available. After several seconds of dead air, I hang up.

The asshole calls me back.

“What’s your name?” he fumes into the phone. I tell him. “Actually, I want you to know why I’m really calling. This isn’t a sales call. Actually,” he’s breathing heavily, “Thomas hired us to call you because he’s had complaints of rudeness on the phone. We’ve just confirmed it. This phone call is being recorded and you’re as good as fired. I’m telling Thomas that you hung up on me tomorrow!”

“Uh-huh,” I say.

“Good luck, honey,” he says, hanging up himself.

Now, ‘Thomas’ was actually right there. It didn’t take long to confirm with him that he hadn’t actually hired a rudeness inspector. My guess is that the guy was having a bad day and didn’t want to hear another sales call go bad. So he actually called back and took it out on me.

My piece of advice? Don’t stutter like a freak when you’re telemarketing and, actually, don’t telemarket at all. It’s the worst job in the world.

I thought people who worked on the phone were supposed to know how to use one.

Rantasaurus Says: I spent three years telemarketing. I’ve got a great phone voice but… *sniff* a face only a mothersaurus could love.

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Blogs are great. Obviously. Look around at this one and you’ll see a treasure-trove of brilliance pouring out of the mouths of everyday (albeit, cranky) citizens. You brave warriors enter the fray because you are called to do so, and in expunging your internal strife you improve not only your own situation, but the whole of society.

However.

There are other bloggers, more sinister and less informed bloggers trolling the e-Universe. And what do they choose to do with their on-line freedom? They choose to be, for lack of a better word, Haters. Haters with a capital ‘H.’ These lost souls are not devoted to sharing themselves with the on-line community through hilarious, gut-busting rants. Oh no. These myopic fools swoop into cyberspace with one goal in mind: Ruin other people’s days. Think of these lost souls as e-Meter Maids, patrolling the internet to make sure that nobody is having a good time for too long. Here are just two examples of e-Haters that make my blood boil.

Example 1:
The On-Line Critic Critic

These bastions of cultural importance descend upon on-line movie, music, TV, and restaurant reviews with one purpose, and that is to talk useless smack. Never do they offer facts to back-up their opinion, rather they rail against whoever was naieve enough to believe that they had their right to express a personal opinion. Let’s look at a banal example, shall we?

BJamesB007: “In my opinion Casino Royale is the best James Bond movie to come out in years. The action was amazing, the story wasn’t as stupid as the last few movies, and the new Bonds rocks. You guys should totally see this movie, I really think you’ll like it.”

e-Hater Response: “BJamesB, you must be joking. Either that or you’re too stupid to know what a REAL James Bond movie is. This pathetic excuse for a movie should be exploded in outer space, and you should be there with it, dying. How can you like this movie? You have to be an idiot, this movie sux ass. You suck too, idiot.”

A very engaging dialogue, no?

Example 2:
The Political Shit-Disturber

Here, an often uniformed e-Hater will inject their unvarnished opinion into an otherwise rational conversation. These people need not be exclusively ‘Republican’ or ‘Democrat.’ In fact, they likely have no concept of what either party represents. All they know is that everything they believe is right, and if you happen to disagree, you must be brain dead. I’ll offer 2 examples, covering either end of the political spectrum. My point is that neither political ideology holds sway over e-stupidity, there is more than enough to go around.

ObamaIn08: I am very excited with the possibility of a forward-looking black president. The promise of bold new ideas and national optimism could really change the political climate and help the American people reclaim their inherent power.

e-Hater Response: Barak Obama bin Laden is a gay surrender monkey. If you want to get blowed up by terrorist vote for him. Might as well vote for Osama, he hates America just as much. Stupid idiots who want to lose and hate our troops. Go home, stupid idiot.

or

RedState08: I’m hoping Rudy Giuliani is the Republican candidate. He’s strong against terrorism, is socially moderate, and can clean up the country like he cleaned up New York City. He’d make a great president, with a lot of strong ideas. He’d get my vote:

e-Hater Response: George W. Bush is a retarded idiot. Our country will be dead in a year thanks to him. If you were a real American you’d vote for the Democrat, no matter who it is. You’re just as stupid as George W., and you’re personally responsible for the death of our country. Go party with the other retards, you piece of crap.

Again, very reasoned and rational, right? These are exactly the kind of informed responses we are looking for when we post here at Rantasarus, right? Sheesh.

Can’t we all just sing a song? I think we could, we could band together to lift our voices up and give strength to the power of individuals to be strong and share their opinions, right or wrong, in an impassioned and rational way. But most likely an on-line e-Hater would be listening to this shared song of the masses and inform us ever so smugly that that we rushed through the 3rd phrase, and even though we got millions of people to sing together in harmony- we were slightly off-key.

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Blake,

I’ll keep this short, just like your member. I haven’t had an orgasm c/o you in months and I’m about to give up. My magic bullet isn’t doing it for me anymore. Everything else is nice, but I’m not interested in nice. 

I’m interested in hot sex and, the way things are going with you, I’m thinking about putting on my little black dress, you know the one, and hitting the town tomorrow night.

What goes around comes around, lover.

Alicia

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Dear Cats,

I’ve tried to ignore this problem but in the last few weeks it’s become so odious, I don’t know what to do. You’ve been with me for, what, a year and a half now?

In that year and a half, I’ve done everything for you. I’ve given you free rent, free food, I’ve even… and this is shocking, cleaned up your toilet almost every day because you just can’t do it yourselves.

What do I get in return? Cuteness? Cuteness? Cats, how can you possibly think that cuteness is an adequate pay-back for me elbow deep in your pee and feces every day?

How does it possibly add up that you cuddle with me and sit on my lap whenever you feel like it, but I have to roll up my sleeves every day. Some days you don’t feel like snuggling, but you feel like manufacturing waste matter regularly. More than once a day, in fact. Sometimes once an hour if you’re feeling extra regular.

Take a look back at our relationship and you’ll see a legacy of abuse and advantage being taken. If this situation doesn’t get resolved… aww… Mittens… you’re making your cute face again! Come to Mama!

Pam

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