Hate, hate, hate

What do we know about social order? I have a sort of pet theory wherein people like to hang out in groups where everyone plays a role which is mutually beneficial to the pack. Like where semi-good looking chicks hang out with duds so as to look better, or where, well you get the idea, the term tool comes from situations as this being so.
And then there is that rare breed of person who evolves within a group, so's to fill a role; or simply find a niche which is comfortable. It has been supposed, and I myself have nominated that the J-Bird is one of the finest haters our generation has ever seen. Let me espouse some of the qualifications and criteria which comprise a top-notch hater:

• The hater must have at some point been hated upon, the Bird has certainly been hated upon; you can ask his former girlfriend about this being so.
• The hater must be extremely hypocritical, such as when the Bird tells someone their actions are wrong when in fact he is simply jealous and would readily commit the same said offense if given the opportunity.
• The hater must readily hate on any and all broads that his friends find interesting or attractive (a good hater will do so for mundane or obscure reasons, mind you). That chick may be crazy, but a good hater will go for the type of laugh she has, or a bad choice of perfume on a given night, the list is endless, but a good hater is resourceful, and this is a source of strength for them.
• A hater will use any influence he or she may have to c-block a friend within the game, gossip, embarrassing stories, post-war Nazi propaganda; these are all items in the hater's tool-box. Remember folks, the hater gets close so as to build a body of evidence.
• The modern hater, in order to stay with the times must also have influence enough to act as a liaison between a friend in the game and his potential target, arranging get togethers and not inviting certain people, or being the go-between with phone calls so as to shut down a situation are all subtle (to the lay-person) yet obvious wet works by an effective hater.
• The hater in the movies is always Maverick, or Iceman, never slider or Merlin or Goose. The hater has no interest in being a good wingman. Say you and your hater friend went out to Utica for a night for example, to meet some girls. A good wingman is picking out and discerning between migs, cargo-ships, bogeys, and facilitating fly-bys of the tower when you are close to touch down. The hater on the other hand is not interested in such strenuous activities, your run of the mill hater will instead drop anchor at the bar and get drunk, and possibly disorderly; a world class hater will take all of that would-be drink money and instead take a 30 dollar cab ride back home, and complain that the bar was too crowded with girls to have a good time. Hate, hate, hate my friends.

This list is by no means the be all and end all when it comes to defining all of the personality traits within the realm of hater-dom. Rather the hater is a chameleon, ever evolving so as to perpetually hate to the utmost of his or her ability. Therefore, we as concerned citizens and sometimes players of the game must exercise due diligence and extreme caution when venturing out into the world of haters (be it bars, house parties, grocery stores, churches, cars, parks, etc) as haters are everywhere.

With this in mind, I urge you, the loyal reader to tell me about some of the hating you've come across in your quest for the big score; we'll keep track of some of their more illustrious transgressions and let them serve warning to those who may not be so hater-savvy.

Friday night was fun, Stacy Roman looked stunning, but at the same time she was being too much of a wing-girl; and made it her mission post-Tony's Lounge to get her MD. roommate back to the hangar safely, as opposed to hanging out and listening to some of the more non-sensical stories I always have on hand for attractive visitors. On a brighter note, I can no longer be accused of simply grunting and saying hi I suppose, which is nice. Saturday night sucked, for the usual reasons that I'm sure you may guess I was forced to make a tactical retreat from Doc's to Tony's Lounge, seeking asylum within it's Fort Stanwixesque frame. No quarter was given folks, in my travels between here and there that night I was hated on, by old ladies hit on, and probably unbeknownst to me quite nearly spit upon. Chicks are a scary bunch, I tell ya; some of them are like Hitler in his '38 days. You give them what they want, you're nice to them, respectful, and the next thing you know they come rolling through the countryside and set up shop in Paris. I don't know, I guess there's something about a nice set of stems that makes occupation acceptable at times.

And to continue in WWII terms if I may, we had the Hater's Ball equivalent of the Yalta Conference here Friday night; quality cigars, all the big swingers in the hatin' game, and a whole boat load of swear words and off-colored stories. Only Yalta was the garage; Mitch, Joe B, Marky Scalise, Paul Grates, Chris Belmont, all the heavy hitters had a story to tell, and a little hate to play forward. Gotta love the guys putting up the good fight, and not rolling over like me and the French.

Random notes:

• French maid and female gangster costumes, I feel like they can't ever go out of style; on the contrary it is my wish that they be worn more frequently by comely lasses who don't happen to be in the house servant or organized crime business. But that's just me, and I'm part French.
• People I like:

1. waitresses at Denny's that write down how to say dirty things in Spanish so I may repeat them at a later time of my convenience.
2. People in Florida that work and McDonalds who don't really know how to count, think about it kids, they don't want to be called out for their lack of counting skills, so instead of less, they give you more. My advice, always go for the 20 piece nuggets, it's McFreakin awesome.
3. Guys at liquor stores who talk to me about the wine I'm buying because it's from Transylvania and says Vampire on it; we all know I don't know shit about that wine, but that guy doesn't care, I'm a costumer, and he's hooking me up with some knowledge to drop on people when I am drunk later on, so that I may look cool and write about how he's good shit (because hell, he's the liquor store guy, I bet they know everything you need to know in life).
4. Girls I haven't kissed yet, because they might be really good and stuff; and I'm curious by nature, so hey I wonder what she's packing. That's what I'm thinking when you see me sitting there and you say "hey Card, what are you thinking/ looking at/ doing?"

What's your favorite scary movie? Mine has got to be Spongebob Square Pants the Movie; there are freaks everywhere, and the scariest music, and all the characters in it do the most insane shit...I was disturbed for days after seeing that one, what do you mean that's not a scary movie, like hell it isn't.

What's everybody doing for Halloween? Are you gonna hate? Maybe, I might myself, but probably not, I'm too French to hate these days. And if you're looking for some spirits to raise your spirits while you're getting into the Halloween spirit; go to your local liquor store and get yourself some Vampire wine, it's imported from Transylvania, trust me, I know a lot about wines and the import export game.

What to watch for this week:

• Chris Belmont to die of a heart attack when Robin Ventura pinch-hits for the Astros to lock up the over but then doesn't go past first base.
• The Turkey Bowl website to get back on it's feet and pimp once again, because the greatest game to be played all year is but a month away, ladies.
• More nonsense about what French things I've been up to lately.
• Nikki Day sweats me, she wanted you to know that.