Friday, June 20, 2008

Classically Strained

This post is going to be a venting post, so if you're not up for "Emo moments with Big D," then go ahead and find something funny on YouTube.

If you've ever had a pinched nerve or a similar annoying pain, then you can relate to my latest issue. It's not physical; my body is in perfect shape as usual (scoff). My problem has to do with work.

It has nothing to do specifically with my job. I love what I do, and the people I work with here are just stellar. The actual problem is much bigger than just my direct issue, but this is where the rant stems, so I'll put it in perspective.

We have an ever-increasing amount of shoes coming in that I have to write about. I'm doing my best to keep up without any major issues, but one recent order caught me off-guard a bit. It is a big Ralph Lauren order; you know, shoes for boring white people and $30,000 millionaires? Anyway, my voice isn't really the appropriate spokesman for these shoes, so writing about them makes my head hurt.

In order to get these shoes online and out of my pile, we decided to use an outside writer to knock these out. You wouldn't think that would be such a big deal, right? Find said writer, give them the needed info to write, and then give the finished product a quick review before posting them for sale.

Finding a writer who can write above a 10th grade level has proven to be the most challenging thing in the world. People cannot write anymore.

First, there was a writer we had used for previous definitions for our resource site. This writer did an okay job, but I still found myself wasting time editing his stuff, which basically wiped out the efficiency of someone else doing some work. Writer #1 bailed on doing the shoes, and needless to say, I wasn't too upset about it.

Then, a week later, I got samples from writer #2. This writer sent over samples, which I promptly edited and sent back. After a short conference call with too many people, this writer was out. Another week passes...

Writer #3 sent samples, which never even made it to me. The contact that works between me and this writer sent them back with a "strong letter," hoping to get some better quality stuff. After a day or so (I am assuming, since I didn't know that we were trying another one), he sent revised samples. These made it past the middleman, and I took a look.

I won't post a sample of this work for the sake of that person, but I was floored. This was a second draft, mind you, and things like mispelling "perfect" as "prefect" shouldn't have been present. Sentences with missing words, missing punctuation and other commonplace errors plagued these samples. I couldn't believe that someone would finish this work, look at it and say to himself, "Self, that's some damn fine writing. Let's e-mail it off!"

The search continues, but it continues with me. I will not accept shit work when it's going onto our site which I have worked so hard to make right. I have gone through and edited tons of the work from the person who was here before me, trying to make everything grammatically correct and smooth. In my opinion, if you can't spell shit right on your website, I doubt you put too much emphasis on any other professional aspects of your business.

I know that I am a perfectionist, but I can give a little lee-way, too. However, if you want to be a professional writer, be it freelance or full-time, you have to get fundamentals right. You may be a creative mother fucker, but if you write like a fourth grader, you might as well write on toilet paper, because all I will do with it is wipe my ass.

***Sense my increasing anger? That's called voice. Note that I do it without frowny faces or using "u" instead of "you."***

Here's today's hasty generalization: Language arts teachers have given up. English is hard to teach. You have more grading than most other instructors, and you can't use Scantron sheets, either. Too many teachers have gotten lazy, passing students with poor skills on to the next grade level, perpetuating a generation of fucktards.

***I'll say this now before I continue: There are students and teachers who are exceptions to this rule, just like with any other stereotypical situation. With that in mind, I continue.***

There are students in college right now who cannot write over an 8th grade level. This isn't bullshit; I have seen their work. Simple things that should be taught at the earliest age are ignored. What happens to these students? How the hell do they even get into college? They take an ACT or SAT test (whatever it is nowadays; I'm old as dirt), and are funneled into beginning English classes. These classes basically rehash the education they should have received in four years of high school in four months. At the end of the semester, either they are promoted to the next level of class or they flunk. The majority of them are passed.

Reason number one for college administrators to allow lower admission standards, and probably the prime motivator for letting these idiots into our higher education system: MONEY. A student who has to take remedial classes before they even start their core curriculum pay more into the university's pockets, and tend to be in college longer than an average or above average student. Even if they have dropped out, they have gotten at least one semester of tuition, incidental fees, parking permits, book rentals and other fees. It's sickening, and it's getting worse.

***I'm not going to research and provide sources on these ideas unless you pay me and print me. These are my thoughts, and I think they make sense.***

Because too many people have associated college with a "must do," too many idiots are getting into school. In turn, our work force suffers at the base level. Work for professionals in a skilled trade industry is booming, yet fewer high school grads choose a technical training school or similar education experience. Why? Because Americans attach a stigma to people who actually work for a living.

"Oh, you're a welder? What; did you have trouble finishing homework?" Here's a staggering truth:

Right now, working 6/10's (the typical week), a pipeline welder will gross $4000
per week not including the benefit package. Only around $2900 of that is taxable
income. The breakdown is $41/hr on the man, $15/hr on the rig, 41.50/day per
diem, plus a benefit package (insurance, pension) of $16.70.


How's that liberal arts degree treating you?

We have coddled the new generation of students to believe that sub-par work is still passable. For most average students, they have been able to do the minimum to get by for their entire lives, and because we have perpetuated the "Trophy-for-last-place" mentality, they think that
their sub par work will actually cut it in the real world. This is reinforced by the university
system that over the last ten years, has continued to institute a "university studies" program
that boils down to two years of high school education that you pay for.

Teachers, please teach your students. If your students are shitty writers, do not pass their work. Do not give "good tryer" awards. Education is about enlightening young minds and directing them to do what is considered intellectual and correct. High school students who cannot tell the difference between "to," "too" and "two" should not graduate.

It's already affecting the world. Far too many (yes, that's the right "too") businesses have professionally produced promtional materials like signs and brochures that have misplaced apostrophes and other grammatical errors. Web blogs and internet posts are plagued with
horrible writing, and no one really seems to care.

Writers, have some self-respect. Unless you are a fourteen year-old girl in Provo, Utah, a
sentence like "OMG, I cant beleive what u typed on ~corey~'s page 2day!" should make you want to stab yourself in the eye with a pencil. STOP BASTARDIZING THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE!

I watched a movie recently, and it seemed eerily accurate. It's called "Idiocracy," and portrays the downfall of mankind due to the changing face of natural selection. Check it out; the movie
sucks but it makes a damn good point.

***

So, the search continues for a good writer. I hope to find one soon, but if not, I'll survive;
I'll just have to write about stupid dress shoes that I think are boring as shit.
Do u no any good riters?

One Love,
D

Thursday, June 12, 2008

The State of the Universe

Last weekend Carrie and I went to Arlington to see my boy Justin Ross play a show at "Hot Rods & Hoggs." I had one of the best burgers i've had in Texas, watched a monster truck rally on the Deuce, and drank a fair amount of Lone Star beer. Justin's music fit this scenario perfectly, and the night was complete. The women folk (especially my sexy babydoll) were lookin' good, and even Elvis was there. It was pretty impressive seeing the King up close and personal amidst the ladies. Here's a shot of Amon's girlfriend and sister with a hunk-a, hunk-a burnin' love...


Here's a link to Justin's music: Justin Ross

Here's a video from the show: http://youtube.com/watch?v=PR9JZjgu1ec&feature=PlayList&p=84764651AA171849&index=19

* * *
Last week, I bought a scooter. Immediately, I know what you think. "You're gonna look like a pumpkin on a toothpick, fat boy." I'll concede that I am a bit big for a standard scooter, but this is not a standard scooter. For those of you who knew me in college when I had my first scooter, that was a toy. This new buggar is, legally, a motorcycle. I just don't like shifting, so the "turn and burn" action of the automatic scooter is just lovely.

It's a Baccio VX150, which is a nice way of dressing up a Chinese company's name. The VIN tag has some long-ass Asian name on it, so we'll just stick with the Baccio title. It's red, has hydraulic anti-lock brakes, security alarm, and only 846 miles on it when I bought it.
Yeah; matching wheels does seem a bit... fruity, but I live in the gayborhood and the Chinese apparently love coordinating colors. Hey; it matches the 4Runner.




So the interesting story on the purchase... I had been watching Craigslist.org for several months, hoping to find a good deal on a used scooter. My work commute is only about 15 miles round trip, so a scooter is ideal. Last Monday night (2 June), I saw a posting that read, "150cc scooter, $450." Well, that got my attention, so i dug a little deeper. It was also noted in the description that they didn't have a title, but I didn't let that discourage me. After all, I'm a dirty redneck and seem to always find a way around the bureaucrats, right?


Tuesday morning, I got a call from Adrian, the scooter's owner. She said that she had gotten over 30 e-mails about the scooter since posting it the night before, but because my e-mail signature made her laugh, she called me first. What is my signature?


Darren B. Burgfeld
Writer, poet, musician; general slacker
cell: 573.270.7988
home/fax: 214.257.0666
www.myspace.com/iceburgtx


That stupid line merited my moving to the front of the pile of hopeful scooter purchasers. Anyway, I told her that I had cash in hand, and would be able to come get it after work. I was already scheduled to go to Fort Worth that evening to shoot some pictures for Justin's new album, so the timing was perfect.


A little later in the morning, she sent me a text saying that she had someone offer $600, and she had to go with what was in her best interests. I understood; I thought the price was really cheap. Turns out, however, this person was full of it, so the scooter was mine. I figured that there may be some things that need to be done to it, but I was prepared to get $450 worth of scooter.


I met Justin at his house, and we proceeded to head to the scooter's location, which was Adrian's parents' house. When we got to the gate to the neighborhood, I was immediately relieved that I wasn't going to have any problems for two reasons: Her dad was riding the scooter around the neighborhood, and the security guard for this neighborhood was asking more questions that I got from customs when I came back from Germany.


These people are rich. Like George Bush over for a BBQ rich. Ridiculous rich. You could film cinemax movies at these houses and not have to change the sheets rich. Lawn jockey rich. You get the point, right?


The backstory on the scooter is that Adrian had a friend who did testing on these in the US for the Chinese manufacturers. After testing, these were to be destroyed, but that's the dumbest thing since NAFTA, so he gave Adrian and her parents three scooters; two 50cc and the one I bought. They had already sold the other two.


It had never been titled because her parents were the ones that built the houses in that neighborhood, and they used the scooters to hop back and forth between jobsites. That's also why a 2004 scooter only had 846 miles on it.


I paid them, had her sign the bill of sale and title certificate, and Justin and I loaded it up and headed out. I am still shocked that I got such an incredible deal. It's the Burgfeld luck, I think.

So now I am in the process of titling it. I have to register it with the state, since a 150cc is considered a motorcycle. This also means I have to get my motorcycle license, which means I will finally have my Texas driver's license. In the chain of events, that means I have to register my 4Runner in Texas now. I guess I should brace myself for the finality of becoming a Texas citizen.




Titling it shouldn't be a major undertaking. If the regular channels prove to be a pain, I can do a bonded title, which means for $100 i get the title and as long as there are no claims against it for 3 years, it's mine. Shouldn't be a problem there. State tax is $28, and the registration is $33. What all that adds up to is for around $600, I'm getting a vehicle that will top out around 65 mph, gets 85 mpg and will hold my fat ass with no problems. Simply outstanding.




This picture shows the pinnacle of the whole scooter; the Engrish on the side.

That's right; the VX150 has "Improved Inyection." I thought, "Hmm; maybe that's Swedish," but then after reading the VIN tag, I was reassured that it is, indubitably, Engrish.


Oh, happy day!


I did drive it, in case you are wondering. I actually drove it to work and back a few days, but on Tuesday I got pulled over by a Dallas County Constable, and that put to bed any notions of further operation without the proper paperwork.

The conversation went something like this...


Constable: "I've pulled you over because you don't have any plates on your bike."


Me: "Yes, sir. I just bought this yesterday from a girl in Ft. Worth, and I thought I'd drive it to work today to make sure everything worked right."


Constable: "Um, hmm... Let me get your license, please (I hand him my license). Missouri? How long have you lived here?"


Me: "Oh... It's been about 2 1/2 months... my neighbor was saying I had 90 days to get the Texas license, but since I was shopping for a bike I thought it would be best to wait so I could get the motorcycle endorsement as well."


Constable: "Well, you've actually only got 30 days... What does the K mean? Is that motorcycle?"


Me: "No, that was for vision correction, but I've since had lasik. The other was for commercial vehicles."


Constable: "So, you didn't have a motorcycle license in MO either?"


Me: "No, sir."

Constable: "D'ya have insuance on the bike yet?"


Me: "No, sir."


Constable: "Okay... so you realize you're looking at four seperate violations here, right? No helmet, no insurance, no license on the bike and no motorcycle operator's license?"


Me: "Yes, sir... Like I said, I just got it yesterday. All of the paperwork for it is in my office just down the road (literally; i was maybe 1/2 mile from work). I realize that I shouldn't have it out on the road, and I guarantee that it will sit until eveything is legal on it, sir. It was poor judgement on my part, and I'm sorry to have wasted your time."


Constable: (Looks down his nose like is this fat boy for real?) "Alright, well I need to run your license. You have any outstanding tickets or warrants or anything?"


Me: "In Texas?"

Constable: "Anywhere; Missouri, Texas, Hawaii...."


Me: "No, sir. Last thing I got was a speeding ticket in 2005. That was in my 4Runner."


Constable: "Alright; hang tight for a minute."


It's at this time that the officer sits down in his car, and I grab some concrete from the retaining wall conveniently where I pulled over. After about ten minutes of sweating balls, he steps back out.


Constable: (Pulls a long piece of paper from his patrol car) "Alright; I'm going to give you a warning for the violations. Get it home, park it, and don't get back on the road until you have all your shit together."


Me: "Yes, sir. Thanks a lot for understanding. New toys... it's hard to not give 'em a little run."


Constable: "Well, it's more for you than anyone else. You get hit, and you're screwed. How fast will this thing go, anyway?"


Me: "Oddly enough, it stayed right at the speed limit all the way over here."


Constable: (laughs) "Okay, nice. Be safe out there and get your registration and license taken care of."


Me: "Yes, sir; thanks again. Have a safe one."


So, this week I've got to get this stuff taken care of. I hated to use all my good karma points in one day, but I know that it's a bigger pain in the ass to get your motorcycle license when you've been cited for driving without a license in Texas. This state doesn't play. Soon, you'll see me cruising in style, in a helmet, laughing at the $4 I spend to fill my tank. Until then... 4Runner fun time.