Drunk dialing is a pop-culture term denoting an instance in which an intoxicated individual places phone calls that he or she would not likely place if sober. The term often refers to a lonely individual calling former or current love interests.

I have this disease late at night sometimes, involving alcohol and the telephone. I get drunk, and I drive my wife away with breath like mustard gas and roses. And then, speaking gravely and elegantly into the telephone, I ask the telephone operators to connect me with this friend or that one, from whom I have not heard in years.

“Drunk texting” is a related phenomenon, and potentially yet more embarrassing for the sender as, once the message is sent, it cannot be retrieved; the message will most likely be misspelled (due to being drunk), and it might be reviewed and shared among many.

Normally, when you think of drunk dialing, it’s usually made by someone looking to get some late night friction going with a partner.  If you went to college, chances are you either made one, or received one from someone.  Once you leave college, or even you didn’t go to college, there is a time where you get serious and put away the immediate gratification of youth.  Someone forgot to tell Virginia Thomas that it’s not ladylike to get perked at 7:30 in the morning. (Unless she was drunk all night…which could happen…)

“Good morning Anita Hill, it’s Ginni Thomas.”Anita Hill got a wakeup call—both literally and figuratively—at 7:31am on a recent Saturday morning. Hill, who testified almost 20 years ago that Supreme Court Justice Clarence Thomas sexually harassed her, got the surprise phone call from Thomas’ wife.

“Good morning Anita Hill, it’s Ginni Thomas,” started the message. “I just wanted to reach across the airwaves and the years and ask you to consider something. I would love you to consider an apology sometime and some full explanation of why you did what you did with my husband.”

Virginia (Ginni) Thomas was referring to Hill’s 1991 Senate confirmation hearing testimony in which she claimed that her former boss, Clarence Thomas, made inappropriate sexual comments to her at work.

“So give it some thought,” Thomas continued. “And certainly pray about this and hope that one day you will help us understand why you did what you did. Okay, have a good day.”

We need this for the Telephone…STAT!

Google’s Mail Goggles Prevents Drunk Emailing

  • By Chris Snyder Email Author
  • October 7, 2008  |
  • 6:44 am  |
  • Categories: Uncategorized

081007_mail_goggles

Google released a useful new Gmail feature yesterday in its labs, which could help prevent the intoxicated from sending embarrassing late-night emails they might regret in the morning.  When activated, the program will force a user to solve a series of math problems before allowing any message to be sent.They are not terribly difficult, but do serve as an extra line of defense in what can be a very dangerous habit. The service is set by default to kick in only on weekend nights, but you can change the settings to apply whenever.

As for drunk dialing and texting, you’re still on your own.

Look at ole grinning Uncle Tom, I mean Clarence Thomas showing all his teeth…

Now, is Ginni so blind to the fact that this is a woman who strongly believes that she was harassed? What does she have to apologize for? Being attractive to her now husbands wandering eye? We were not there on that day, nearly twenty years ago. But, it is hard to believe that Anita just made this up. Furthering her cause, a former girlfriend of Clarence has ended her silence. Heather Horn at the Atlantic Wire explains

The Washington Post reports today that Lillian McEwan, with whom Thomas was in a relationship at the time, is now, finally, supporting Hill’s story. Apparently she didn’t see fit to say anything during the hearings, but now admits Thomas often told her about women at work, and on at least one occasion asked one of these women her bra size. Thus, as the Post’s Michael Fletcher puts it, “Hill’s allegations that Thomas had pressed her for dates and made lurid sexual references rang familiar.”

This is just like the Coke Zero commercial

The Washington Post gets involved in unraveling the mystery

Lillian McEwen dated Clarence Thomas in the ’80s — and she tells our colleague Michael Fletcher the stories Hill told about him rang true: He checked out female colleagues, once asked a woman her bra size, was “obsessed” with porn and eager to talk about it. The retired administrative law judge was okay with that and shows no rancor towards him, but — full disclosure — she’s a Democrat who doesn’t like his rulings or his sense of victimhood in the Hill matter. And yes, ahem — she’s shopping a memoir that details their “freewheeling sex life.”

At least she discloses her potential bias. Timing is interesting, but it’s not like she told Ginni to make this phone call. You would think that people in the spotlight would understand the need for discretion in their lines of work. Why not have a flunky make the call if you really needed the apology? Did you think that hearing your voice was going to make her agree with you?

Google…we should already have time machines, but until then, what about drunk dial for ANDROID?

 

When I look at Hillary’s campaign, I think back to the Monte Python skit with the dead parrot…

The Pet Shoppe

A customer enters a pet shop.

Customer: ‘Ello, I wish to register a complaint.

(The owner does not respond.)

C: ‘Ello, Miss?

Owner: What do you mean “miss”?

C: I’m sorry, I have a cold. I wish to make a complaint!

O: We’re closin’ for lunch.

C: Never mind that, my lad. I wish to complain about this parrot what I purchased not half an hour ago from this very boutique.

O: Oh yes, the, uh, the Norwegian Blue…What’s,uh…What’s wrong with it?

C: I’ll tell you what’s wrong with it, my lad. ‘E’s dead, that’s what’s wrong with it!

O: No, no, ‘e’s uh,…he’s resting.

C: Look, matey, I know a dead parrot when I see one, and I’m looking at one right now.

O: No no he’s not dead, he’s, he’s restin’! Remarkable bird, the Norwegian Blue, idn’it, ay? Beautiful plumage!

C: The plumage don’t enter into it. It’s stone dead.

O: Nononono, no, no! ‘E’s resting!

C: All right then, if he’s restin’, I’ll wake him up!

(shouting at the cage)

‘Ello, Mister Polly Parrot! I’ve got a lovely fresh cuttle fish for you if you show…(owner hits the cage)

O: There, he moved!

C: No, he didn’t, that was you hitting the cage!

O: I never!!

C: Yes, you did!

O: I never, never did anything…

C: (yelling and hitting the cage repeatedly) ‘ELLO POLLY!!!!!

Testing! Testing! Testing! Testing! This is your nine o’clock alarm call!

(Takes parrot out of the cage and thumps its head on the counter. Throws it up in the air and watches it plummet to the floor.)

C: Now that’s what I call a dead parrot.

O: No, no…..No, ‘e’s stunned!

C: STUNNED?!?

O: Yeah! You stunned him, just as he was wakin’ up! Norwegian Blues stun easily, major.

C: Um…now look…now look, mate, I’ve definitely ‘ad enough of this. That parrot is definitely deceased, and when I purchased it not ‘alf an hour ago, you assured e that its total lack of movement was due to it bein’ tired and shagged out following a prolonged squawk.

O: Well, he’s…he’s, ah…probably pining for the fjords.

C: PININ’ for the FJORDS?!?!?!? What kind of talk is that?, look, why did he fall flat on his back the moment I got ‘im home?

O: The Norwegian Blue prefers kippin’ on it’s back! Remarkable bird, id’nit, squire? Lovely plumage!

C: Look, I took the liberty of examining that parrot when I got it home, and I discovered the only reason that it had been sitting on its perch in the first place was that it had been NAILED there.

(pause)

O: Well, o’course it was nailed there! If I hadn’t nailed that bird down, it would have nuzzled up to those bars, bent ’em apart with its beak, and VOOM! Feeweeweewee!

C: “VOOM”?!? Mate, this bird wouldn’t “voom” if you put four million volts through it! ‘E’s bleedin’ demised!

O: No no! ‘E’s pining!

C: ‘E’s not pinin’! ‘E’s passed on! This parrot is no more! He has ceased to be! ‘E’s expired and gone to meet ‘is maker!

‘E’s a stiff! Bereft of life, ‘e rests in peace! If you hadn’t nailed ‘im to the perch ‘e’d be pushing up the daisies!

‘Is metabolic processes are now ‘istory! ‘E’s off the twig!

‘E’s kicked the bucket, ‘e’s shuffled off ‘is mortal coil, run down the curtain and joined the bleedin’ choir invisibile!!

THIS IS AN EX-PARROT!!

(pause)

O: Well, I’d better replace it, then.

(he takes a quick peek behind the counter)

O: Sorry squire, I’ve had a look ’round the back of the shop, and uh, we’re right out of parrots.

C: I see. I see, I get the picture.

O: I got a slug.

(pause)

C: (sweet as sugar) Pray, does it talk?

O: Nnnnot really.

C: WELL IT’S HARDLY A BLOODY REPLACEMENT, IS IT?!!???!!?

O: Look, if you go to my brother’s pet shop in Bolton, he’ll replace the parrot for you.

C: Bolton, eh? Very well.

The customer leaves.

The customer enters the same pet shop. The owner is putting on a false moustache.

C: This is Bolton, is it?

O: (with a fake mustache) No, it’s Ipswitch.

C: (looking at the camera) That’s inter-city rail for you.

The customer goes to the train station.

He addresses a man standing behind a desk marked “Complaints”.

C: I wish to complain, British-Railways Person.

Attendant: I DON’T HAVE TO DO THIS JOB, YOU KNOW!!!

C: I beg your pardon…?

A: I’m a qualified brain surgeon! I only do this job because I like being my own boss!

C: Excuse me, this is irrelevant, isn’t it?

A: Yeah, well it’s not easy to pad these python files out to 200 lines, you know.

C: Well, I wish to complain. I got on the Bolton train and found myself deposited here in Ipswitch.

A: No, this is Bolton.

C: (to the camera) The pet shop man’s brother was lying!!

A: Can’t blame British Rail for that.

C: In that case, I shall return to the pet shop!

He does.

C: I understand this IS Bolton.

O: (still with the fake mustache) Yes?

C: You told me it was Ipswitch!

O: …It was a pun.

C: (pause) A PUN?!?

O: No, no…not a pun…What’s that thing that spells the same backwards as forwards?

C: (Long pause) A palindrome…?

O: Yeah, that’s it!

C: It’s not a palindrome! The palindrome of “Bolton” would be “Notlob”!! It don’t work!!

O: Well, what do you want?

C: I’m not prepared to pursue my line of inquiry any longer as I think this is getting too silly!

Sergeant-Major: Quite agree, quite agree, too silly, far too silly…

This is the Clinton campaign to a “T”. She really just needs to quit. Take the money and pay off your debts and gear up for an appointment in the Obama White House, assuming he wins and you don’t do something silly, like run as an independent. This is the same thing that a myopic Teddy Roosevelt did, after he was unsatisfied with his replacement, William Taft. Roosevelt was so popular that when he failed to win the nomination of the Republicans, he went out and ran as an independent. This had the effect of splitting the republican party (the good guys back then) and allowed Democrat Woodrow Wilson to win the election and keep the power in the hands of the conservative party for two decades. At least Taft became Chief Justice of the US Supreme Court…

Its hard to know when to say when. Whether it’s drinking, having random encounters with beautiful women, or gambling, quitting is hard to do. In the words of my man Marcellus Wallace, “Its pride fucking with you…”


Now the night of the fight, you may feel a slight sting, that’s pride fuckin’ wit ya.

Fuck pride! Pride only hurts, it never helps. Fight through that shit.

‘Cause a year from now, when you’re kickin’ it in

the Caribbean you’re gonna say,

“Marsellus Wallace was right.”

He was right in this sense…if you are only staying in the race to allow the people chances to vote, then you have to swallow it and recognize defeat as soon as its over. The nuclear option is only an option if you are going to not care about the outcome of the bombing…You will hurt, or cripple the party and help usher in John McCain as our President. Those who fail to learn history…