In which it is time to be done now

I need y’all to understand that, with five days of school and only three days of instruction left, I am doing literally third grade material with my students right now. We’re doing area of 2-dimensional shapes, something my son, who is in third grade, was doing earlier this year. And they can’t do it, and I’m well beyond the point where I’m particularly concerned about whether it’s an issue of ability or volition, because this shit is too fucking simple for you to be failing even if you don’t give a shit any longer.

Those are actually the first five questions on my assignment for tomorrow. The last, if you don’t recognize it, is a TikTok reference. It is a meme referencing someone who has had something simple explained to them and they somehow still do not understand it. They’ll get it.

Sunday miscellany

This has potential to be a really, really important week, both for reasons that are obvious and I can talk about and at least one or two that aren’t. I’m kind of in a place where I want to just put my head down and sleep through it and find out a week from now what happened.

The school board is meeting tomorrow, and supposedly they are going to vote to let us know what the plan is for the next few weeks, which is good, because school starts on the 12th. I will probably head into work at least once this week, if for no better reason than to move my stuff into my new classroom, in a pile in a corner if nothing else. I am not going to put any effort into decorating my classroom this year, simply because I don’t expect to be in my classroom this year. My district’s plan has gone from “we’re back in person, but parents can opt their kids out, and we’ll find teachers for those kids” to “we are going to be virtual for two weeks to get kids used to the rules about masks” to a document that I was emailed by my principal today that at one point uses the word if to describe returning to school in-person. I am fully expecting to find out that we are virtual for the first nine weeks, I am predicting we will not return to school at all in 2020, and while I’m not willing to make it an official prediction yet I would not be surprised at all if we don’t return at all during this school year, because none of this is fixable with the current administration in office, and it’ll be February at least before President Biden (and Vice-President Harris, crossing my fingers) are able to start solving problems. But one way or another I ought to actually know something in about 24 hours (maybe 26) and at that point I can sort of maybe pretend to start planning.

To that end, I went to Guitar Center today, because I want to put my desk microphone on a boom arm so that I can keep it out of my way when I’m not recording and it’s more functional when I am, and while they didn’t have what I was looking for I was really happy to note that they are actually taking the pandemic seriously– the front door was opened for me by a guy with a mask and gloves on, and another thanked me for wearing my mask and explained that I needed to keep it on and my nose covered while I was in the store. Not a single employee had their damn mask on under their nose while I was in there, either.

Which: for fuck’s sake, people. I had to make a Target run afterwards too and by the end of it I was halfway to being a goddamned axe murderer. You motherfuckers have been told how to wear these goddamn things and you have been told why to wear these goddamn things. I am tired of stupid people.

Anyway, I came home and ordered a boom arm, because I can’t find one in a store and I’m not about to do what I might have done a year ago and check more than one place before having someone bring me shit. I wish there had been something else I wanted to spend money on at Guitar Center, but as a non-guitar person there just aren’t a lot of options.

(Okay, I took a look at a $1000 “podcaster recording bundle,” but I’ll never have a podcast because I’ll never have a good idea for one.)

Let’s see, what else? Eyes are getting better. Dropping the nighttime gel drops was a good idea. I’m noticing them a lot less often, which I think is supposed to be the point, right? Let’s go with yes.

I feel like I had more, but it’s fallen out of my brain. Maybe I’ll update if I remember something important.

On thpoilerth

63401-Grumpy-cat-game-of-thrones-spo-8TvyLet’s talk about spoilers, guys.

I usually don’t watch Game of Thrones.  I have a complicated relationship with the books and until literally this weekend I hadn’t been able to find anyone willing to let me share their HBO GO password; I haven’t enjoyed the TV series enough for the few episodes I’ve watched to get me to pay for it on iTunes or anything like that.  That said, my wife and I were aware that Something was going to Happen in the episode that aired last night, and so we made sure to tune in.

Afterward, in what is quickly becoming a ritual after any major entertainment event, I logged into Twitter to see what people were saying about it.  Now, unlike, say, the Red Wedding, where the weeping, wailing and gnashing of teeth could be heard from space, this was an event that I figured the fans of the show who hadn’t read the books would be exultant.  Finding this, though, brought quite a smile to my face (and, uh, spoiler alert?):

Screen Shot 2014-04-14 at 5.01.22 PM

And then something interesting happened.  A whole bunch of people started jumping on King’s ass for posting spoilers.  And lo, there was a kerfluffle on Twitter.

Motherfuckers:

I don’t care if you never read the books.  Joffrey dies in the third Song of Ice and Fire book.  That sumbitch came out in the year 2000.  That was fourteen fucking years ago.  You do not get to bitch about spoilers from a fourteen year old book.  No.  Unacceptable.  Furthermore, you definitely do not get to bitch about spoilers from a fourteen year old book when the place you encounter the spoiler is on Twitter ten minutes after the episode ended.  (I have no idea what’s going on with the timestamp up there, by the way.  He definitely posted the Tweet after the episode ended, not that it matters.)

Twitter is The Place of Spoilers, morons.  I don’t get to watch The Walking Dead until about 24 hours after it airs most weeks.  You know what I don’t do between TWD airing on Sunday night and me getting to see it Monday night?  Go on fucking Twitter.  Or io9, for that matter.  You know why?  Those are places people go to talk about television shows.

How goddamn stupid are you?

King, luckily, took it in stride and began vigorously mocking his detractors by posting spoilers from Romeo and Juliet, which I thought was awesome.

Point is: if you want to avoid spoilers, you should probably avoid spoilers.  Or you run the risk of strangers on the interwebs calling you a dumbass, you dumbass.

Where do they find these idiots? A play in one act.

20131101-182321.jpgThe scene: OtherJob. It is cold and rainy outside, and getting darker by the moment. I am still sick and very bored, and the book I have brought to work with me is not very good. I am playing Temple Run on my iPad.

The phone rings.

ME: “OtherJob, how may I help you?”

IDIOT JACKASS WHOSE PHONE NUMBER AND NAME I COULD TOTALLY POST BUT I’M NOT GOING TO: “Yeah, how late is your driving range open?”

I glance outside. It is still cold and raining. And we don’t have a driving range.

ME: “We don’t have a driving range, sir.”

IJWPNANICTPBINGT, suddenly sounding very irritated: “What? Is this OtherJob?”

ME: “Yessir.”

IJWPNANICTPBINGT, ignoring my affirmative answer: “Well, do you have their number, then?”

Sound of teeth grinding. No, I don’t have the number of this place you made up, and why would I give it to you if I did? Who thinks the world works like this, where I can just call one business and have them give me the number of another business?

ME: “This *is* OtherJob, sir. You’ve dialed the right number. We don’t have a driving range.”

Literal, not-shitting-you sputtering sounds from the phone. This guy cannot believe my effrontery.

IJWPNANICTPBINGT: “My friend told me you had a nighttime driving range.”

ME: “We do not.”

IJWPNANICTPBINGT,angry: “You’re serious? You’re not fucking with me right now?”

ME, suddenly much less in the mood for this idiot: “Check Google Maps or something if you don’t believe me, sir. There’s no driving range and nowhere to put one.”

IJWPNANICTPBINGT: “Well, do you know where it is?

ME: “No, sorry. I don’t know of anywhere around here that does that.” NOTE: This is true. I might not have told him if I had known, because I don’t like people swearing at me on the phone, but I truly don’t have the vaguest idea who he might be referring to. Plus it’s COLD AND RAINING, WHAT THE FUCK.

IJWPNANICTPBINGT, working his way into a huff again: “So my friend’s just lying to me, then, huh? That’s your story?”

ME: “Sir, we close at eight. You come on over. If you can find the driving range, you can play for free.”

The line goes dead.

Exeunt.

Okay, stop the world, I’m getting off

Ladies and gentlemen!

I give you… the internet.