On thpoilerth

On April 14, 2014 By Luther M. SilerIn Geek, idiocy, Television2 Comments

63401-Grumpy-cat-game-of-thrones-spo-8Tvy Let’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?):

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.

On November 1, 2013November 1, 2013 By Luther M. SilerIn idiocyLeave a comment

The 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.