When VH and I married, I resisted taking his last name. For one thing, I liked mine. Quite a bit, as a matter of fact. In comparison, his seemed dull and, more importantly, not mine.

Oh, sure, I realized that marriage meant mingling our incomes, our belongings and our body parts. But those things involved mingling, not a complete surrender and disavowal of the life I’d lived until the moment the “I Do’s” were done deals.

While I practiced law, he understood my reasons for keeping my maiden name for professional purposes. Once I left the practice, however, my desire to hyphenate became quite the issue. But I stood my ground for seven long years… right up to the point where he shut up about it. Then — and only then — was I willing to begin using his last name as my own.

Then again, neither of us had one of those names which should never, ever be hyphenated. C’mon, Aiken-Johnson? Wacker-Daily? Don’t these people read???

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Ever since that nice little email from the spammer who broke my heart, I’ve been scouring my InBox for replies from Mr. John Obi. Alas, his interest in me seems to have been as fleeting as I feared.

But that’s all right. Really, it is. I’ve always got Jenifa James to warm the cockles of my heart… wherever they are.

Dearest One,

See, now this is a much nicer form of address than ol’ John’s “Dear Sir/Madam”. Everyone likes to feel dear, don’t they? I know I do, at least. Which is why I found my dear Jenifa’s next line a bit confusing:

I am writting this letter with due respect and heartful of tears since we have not known or met ourselves previously.

Wait a minute, weren’t you the chick just addressing me as “Dearest One”? Now you tell me we don’t know each other and, in fact, we haven’t even met? What is this, a drunk email or something?

I am asking for your assistance after I have gone through a profile that speaks good of you. I want to find out if it’s possible for you to deal with individual as to investment. I came across your profile and I feel it’s highly reputable that is why I pick an interest getting across to you in respect of investment at my disposal.

Janifa, my dear, you really think my profile speaks good of me? Personally, I wouldn’t mind a little nip off the end of my nose and perhaps a bit stronger chin, but thanks. Oh, wait, you meant my online persona… well, now, if you think highly of a woman whose profile clearly says her first name is “Venomous” then I might just have some ocean front property in Arizona for you to consider with that investment at your disposal.

I will be so glad if you can allow me and lead me to the right channel towards your assistance to my situation now. I would like to use this opportunity to introduce myself to you.

Huh? You’re just now getting around to the introductions? Woman, what kind of bass-ackwards country do you come from?

I am jenifa James 22Years Old Lady from (cote d ivore) ,the only daughter of Late Micheal James

Ah, the Ivory Coast. It’s all starting to make sense now: the spelling errors, the bass-ackwardsness.

My father is now late he was a well known cocoa and gold merchant business man in my country( cote d ivore) ,he was poisoned by his co-business partner a year ago.

Cocoa, huh? I’m guessing your father wasn’t so much into the Swiss Miss variety as in the harvesting of the leaves. Am I right? Huh, am I? It’s okay, Jenifa, you can tell me. Why, I’m you’re Dearest One, remember?

Of course, I’m awfully sorry to hear about your father’s partner bumping him off. Then again, Jenifa, if your pappy wasn’t smart enough to foresee the risks of having a partner in the drug and gold business, well, perhaps the whole experience should just be chalked up to that “survival of the fittest” thing.

Tell me, Sweets: do you take after him?

The main reason why I am contacting you now is to seek your assistance in the area of my future investment and also for a help hand over some huge amount of money in my possession.

Translation: Daddy wasn’t into Swiss Miss. Gotcha.

This fund ( US5.6 Million dollars) is deposited in a bank in my country in (cote d’ivoire) a years ago by my father he made me the sole beneficiary.I am now asking you to stand on my behalf,to stand as my partner and in time of the claim and investment as well.

Awesome! What should I wear? I mean, I’ve never traveled to the Ivory Coast, but from what I’ve read it’s kind of warm down there, right? Y’all still have taxi’s though, right? I mean, I don’t expect you to pick me up at the airport or anything, so if you’ll just give me the name and address of the bank, and a time and date when you’ll be there, I’ll be happy to stand around while you do the sitting, deal?

I have made up my mind to offer you 13% of the total money while the remaining will go into a productive investment.

Sweet! Let’s see, 13% of US $5.6 million is $728,000. That’s a nice little chunk of change for just flying down there and standing around in some bank. Why, given your country’s economy with its GDP running around $645 per person, I could even live out my life-long dream of being a philanthropist Oprah-style and still have $708,000 left over.

Pls attach your direct and full information as you reply to me.

No problem, Friend. But just in case you didn’t get that email response of mine, here it is: Venomous Kate at the email address you already used. See, wasn’t that easy?

Thanks and remain bless. Best Regards, jenifaJames

Gezhundeit to you, too, Jenifa. Don’t forget to send me that info on the bank’s location and the time of our meeting, m’kay? I’d hate to let you down after you went to such great lengths to look up my profile and determine for yourself whether I’m reputable.

Meanwhile, please don’t take offense over the category I’ve filed our little email exchange under. It’s nothing personal. I just don’t have a blog category for complete strangers who contact me in the hope I’ll help them with their financial investments.

There’s much ado this weekend over Drudge’s “breaking” story concerning Prince Harry’s tour of duty.

For 10 weeks, the British news agencies honored an agreement reached with the Ministry of Defence to forego disclosure of Prince Harry’s front line position in Afghanistan in exchange for media access to the Prince during his deployment. Then Matt Druge, long known for sensationalist, tabloid tactics, decided to share Prince Harry’s posting with the world.

As a result of Drudge’s story, the Prince’s tour of duty was cut short to protect his safety as well as those of his fellow soldiers. Harry returned home safely this morning. It’s unknown at this time what his next posting will entail.

James Joyner of Outside the Beltway points out that, while Drudge wasn’t a signatory to the media-MoD agreement, there’s much to be said for abiding by such “gentlemen’s agreements”.

Little Miss Attila puts it more succinctly: fuck Matt Drudge.

And now, as I learned from VodkaPundit, there’s a movement afoot to drop Drudge.

As you can see, I couldn’t agree more:

Want one for your site? Copy the link below then post it at your place.

<a href="http://www.electricvenom.com/2008/03/01/drudge-has-no-class/"><img src="http://www.electricvenom.com/wp-content/uploads/2008/03/no_drudge.JPG" alt="Bloggers drop Matt Drudge in protest for reporting the location of Prince Harry" /></a><br />
Join the movement: <a href="http://insidecharmcity.com/2008/02/29/drop-drudge/">Drop Drudge</a>.<br />

UPDATE: By request here’s a graphic small enough for use in a sidebar.

Snag it by copying and pasting the code below:

<a href="http://www.electricvenom.com/2008/03/01/drudge-has-no-class/"><img src="http://www.electricvenom.com/wp-content/uploads/2008/03/drudge_button.JPG" alt="Bloggers drop Matt Drudge in protest for reporting the location of Prince Harry" /></a><br />
Join the movement: <a href="http://insidecharmcity.com/2008/02/29/drop-drudge/">Drop Drudge</a>.<br />

You know, for a while there I felt pretty bad about how much I’d complained when DHL took over 2 weeks to deliver a 2-day package. I mean, it really was very thoughtful of the Regional Manager to drive all the way to my house to say that DHL was sorry for the outrageous delay.

And, I have to admit they did deliver one package on time last month, which I hoped was a sign they’d straightened things out.

Silly me.

Today DHL brought another package to my door. This one was a box of books that Leslie of Leslie’s Omnibus sent me… on December 24, 2007.

That’s right: it took DHL Express one month and 25 days to deliver a package.

Unfortunately, the Venomous Hubby was the one who answered the door when the driver stopped by. If it’d been me, well, let’s just say you’d be reading VH’s first blog entry here at EV as he informed you of my incarceration.

Yes, it’s Super Tuesday. If I hadn’t figured that out on my own, your constant proclamation of the fact every 5 minutes during the 5 a.m., 6 a.m., 7 a.m and 8 a.m. morning news would’ve clued me in.

Ditto for the 23 mentions I counted during the noon news.

Within two hours of their opening, you’d already proclaimed that Obama got the Democrat nod in Kansas, Hillary took it in Missouri where McCain edged out Huckabee at the Republican primary. But just in case I hadn’t figured that out from your 5 o’clock and 6 o’clock news, I certainly understood it during the first 5 minutes of your 9 o’clock news show. (The other 19 times you brought it up in the 10 o’clock news program were rather redundant.)

Now here it is 10:53 p.m. and you’re still babbling on about the results. And babbling. And babbling yet some more.

Look, not a single one of you hair-sprayed, Botoxed bubble heads are actually political scientists so why are you occupying valuable pre-bedtime broadcasting time talking about things well beyond your collective, double-digit IQ?

And, please, don’t convince yourself that pulling some schlub from each party’s local headquarters makes you somehow look more erudite. The fact that none of you could think up a single insightful question just served to emphasize that your viewers’ evenings would have been better spent watching yet another rerun of King of Queens.

I just thought I’d point this out since, after all, the Kansas Republican primary isn’t until Saturday and I’d rather spare you — and myself — yet another evening of your vapid blather.

Regards,
VK

My poor email InBox has been feeling neglected of late. Oh, sure, there are plenty of comments from folks and emails from friends, but my online stalkers seem to dwindled and so I’m not getting 13 new emails every hour. On the hour.

So you can imagine my joy to have received an email from Mr. John Obi, Esq., from whom I hadn’t heard in quite some time. How grateful am I for his recent communique? Grateful enough to post it here for you in all its glory, my Venomites.

Dear Sir/Madam,

Oh, my, John. Take a look at that photo. Does it really leave you doubting my gender? I admit, that brown blouse isn’t terribly flattering to my skin tone. Should I wear saffron next time, or perhaps you’d prefer dusky rose? I’ve never really known what “season” I am. Maybe next time I should just go with showing some cleavage so my gender’s more obvious, yes?

I apologize for any inconveniences caused if this mail does not meet your demands,though I do not intend to embarrass you by the contents of this very mail.

Now, Johnny, I confess I am a demanding woman, and one of the things that I demand — yea, what one of my true fetishes — is a man with good grammar. Next time, might I suggest, insert a space prior to your comma. It’s so much more revealing of your true literary talents than, say, a missed period.

While we’re at it, I’m rather difficult to embarrass. That “Venomous” part should have given that much away, at least.

In Confidence and good faith, I know this will come to you as a surprise because you have not received any prior communication from me before now; nevertheless this proposition which I bring to you is for the benefit of both of us.

What, you don’t remember our history? You wrote me three months ago, sweetheart. Also, four months ago, seven months ago and just slightly past thirteen months ago. I’m heartbroken, I am. I thought I was memorable. Obviously, I really do need to include cleavage on the next photo.

I am Mr. John Obi (ESQ), Head of Internal Audit Suisse Credit Finance London, working as part of a bigger team that covers the entire UK region.

I know who you are, hon. Like I said, I can’t believe you don’t remember how passionately you’ve emailed me before. So it saddens me greatly to be the one to tell you that your job is up for grabs. But rest assured, my friend, I will remain as true to you as you are to me.

I have decided to work something out with you based on certain reasons and hope you can be of assistance in this.

Based on “certain reasons”? Oooh, Johnny, your Swiss-Germanic accent just sent shivers up my thigh-high patent leather boot-clad thighs. “Certain reasons”. I can practically hear those sibilant S’s. They’re so… how do you say?… venomous.

At the moment, I am constrained to issue more details about this until your positive response is received.

A man of mystery. I like that. These days there are so many men who, like women, share too many details. Oh, I know, I share TMI myself (that, by the way, is American-speak for “telling it like it is”, something I know you Swiss-Germanic types aren’t really into and yet, like my Persian stalkers also seem to find a turn-on.

On receipt of your indication of interest, I would further details concerning my motive to you.

Well, John Boy, let me just say now that I’m interested. Heart-broken because you don’t remember our repeated passionate exchanges (during which, I confess, I might have seemed a bit “hard to get” due to my instinct of marking your love tomes as spam) but nevertheless I’m interested.

Piqued, even.

If this proposal is acceptable by you, please endeavor to reply me immediately,if not please disregard this email.

By my count it’s been 8 minutes. Is that fast enough for you, John?

I assure you, as an American woman who shares TMI, eight minutes are still too short in my book. Wink, wink. Hint, hint. Nudge, nudge.

Thank you very much for your anticipated response while I expect your reply soonest.

Did you anticipate this? Seriously, John-John? Did you think I’d acknowledge your secretive missive in such a large way? That I’d declare my passionate, enthusiastic “YES!” for the whole wide world to see?

Well, let me just assure you, my timid friend: YES! YES! YESSSSSSS!

Now, what was it that you proposed? Oh, hmm… Well, I’m sure someone as insightful as you’ve proven to be will understand why I now must needs make that a “qualified yes”.

Warmest regards,
John Obi ESQ

Warmest? As in: nice, roasty, toasty warm? As in, the flames of hell are burning beneath your feet and the Devil just informed you that he’s done his best, so now he’s turning you over to the Venomous One?

Oh, yes, Johnny Boy, I am certain your regards are nice and warm in whatever post-equatorial, sand-riddled, A/C-deprived, bass-ackwards country you really live in. (Oh, wait, I just checked. You’re in Malaysia. Well, like I said…).

By the way, I can add that “Esq.” behind my name, too.

Only mine’s legal. And, since you’ve seemed to already have my gender confused, let’s just say it’s literal enough that you should most likely translate it as: She Devil who will ride your ass into hell.

Don’t be a stranger now, John. M’kay?

A word to the wise (and VH):

When your wife complains about being tired, bloated, crampy, broken out and just a mite bit testy, and yet she’s still managed to do the laundry, supervise your child, tidy the house and somehow squeeze in a shower, do not — I repeat DO NOT — complain if she doesn’t have anything planned for dinner.

And if you do complain and she responds with a suggestion that you pull your head out of your ass and look in the fridge to see if there is something you can cook, NEVER reply with “Gee, do you have PMS or something?”

Because the chances are pretty good that she might and, if that’s the case, do you really want a pissed off woman cooking your meal?

Trust me.

In response to last month’s fatal shooting at a Hooters in Tennessee, lawmaker think they have come up with a nifty way to ensure such things never happen again.

They want to make it lawful to carry a gun in establishments serving alcohol.

Oh, but there’s no need to worry that someone might get all liquored up and start shooting, folks, because the bill says you can’t touch the firewater if you’re packing heat. Besides, restaurant owners can post signs telling people that guns aren’t allowed.

Of course, that pretty much assumes that people in Tennessee can actually read….

Last night, under the sway of a warm and fuzzy feeling following the successful launch of my new blog Blogging For The Money (and possibly a second martini), I decided I’d do something to help single out bloggers doing paid entries who actually do them right.

I posted, over on the forums at one of the companies for which I sometimes do paid work, that I was going to start an “I Pledge Quality” blogroll for those committed to blogging well and not just to turn a fast buck. I invited people to indicate their interest, but made it clear they would have to commit to blogging regularly, with more non-sponsored entries than not, and particularly to writing reviews that didn’t read like crap.

Seventeen requests to join the blogroll later, with the overwhelming majority of them coming from bloggers who are nothing short of awful, I had to beg the moderators to delete that forum thread.

I’ve been steaming ever since.

What the HELL is it about so many blogger-for-hire people who purportedly spend time trying to improve their site’s Alexa ratings, their Page Rank, their RSS subscription rates, etc. but are willfully clueless when it comes to doing the work to actually write well or have a good looking, fast-loading blog?

Do you have any idea how much effort it took to resist the temptation to respond to some of those inquiries with “Sorry, but your page is so indescribably bad that I refuse to read it, much less link it. In fact, whenever I DO accidentally run across your site (which seems to happen a lot because you Stumble so many of your own crappy entries), I quite literally ponder chopping off my own fingers so I never make that mistake again, then using them to gouge out my eyes just to ensure I never, ever, EVER look at a site as meaningless, tripe-riddled and otherwise uninformative as yours.”

Well, do you?

If I didn’t like the extra money so much I might consider abandoning paid reviews just to rid myself of the stench of being associated with some of them.

Instead, I decided to amuse myself. I only wish I could make it really happen.

Priscilla Ceballos, the woman who coached her daughter into lying so she could win a Hannah Montana contest says she’s sorry — oh, and that she never intended to mislead the sponsor.

“Instead I brought so much negative attention to my family,” Ceballos said, reading a statement on NBC’s “Today” show.

Gee, ya think?

“Please accept my heartfelt apology and please do not punish my child for my mistake.”

Fine. Can we flay you instead?

“I just wanted to help my daughter write a compelling story,” she said. “There is no more compelling story than the struggle and sacrifices of our military and their families.”

Translation: “That’s why we tried capitalizing on others’ tragic losses.”

“I just made a bad decision which I sincerely regret.”

It’s amazing how getting caught can do that to a person, isn’t it? But how many regrets would she have felt if she and her daughter got away with the lie? I’m guessing about as little as the respect for her now that she’s explained she hadn’t meant to mislead anyone, which is to say: none at all.

Judging by the number of fliers for payday loans, title loans and pawn shops hitting my mailbox in the past week, I’m guessing our town has been identified by some of these seedy companies as one likely to be financially struggling after the holidays. Also judging by their fliers, despite having different names and addresses, several of them are affiliated.

How do I know?

Because some soon-to-be unemployed person forgot to proofread the fliers before sending them off to the place that does their cheap brochure printing so our town’s name is misspelled. Not that many people will notice, I’m guessing. If you’re the type to get yourself into such financial straits that you need to frequent one of those businesses, chances are you aren’t educated enough to recognize a misspelling when you see one.

I suppose the same argument could be made about the folks who work for those kind of places, too. How else to explain why they’d spring for professional printing services tri-fold brochures but not for someone to proofread their copy?

Being the kind of stickler that I am, it’s tempting to grab a big, fat red marker and circle the misspelling on the three dozen or so fliers we’ve received in the mail since Christmas, then mail them all to their corporate headquarters. I’m pretty certain someone there would be interested in knowing that despite their investment in glossy four-color brochure printing, they only managed to make themselves look even more fly-by-night.

But I decided to put the things to better use. They’re lining my cats’ litter boxes instead.

Dear Woman In The Wal-Mart Parking Lot,

Judging by the three large bags crammed with Christmas decorations you bought on sale this evening, I’m guessing your errand wasn’t nearly as pressing as mine.

You see, I was out of tampons. I was in a hurry. Perhaps you could tell that by the way my minivan creeped behind as you walked down the freaking center of the lane in the parking lot, chatting on your cell phone, oblivious to the fact that you were blocking not only me but also the two cars behind me?

Those honking horns you heard? They were for you, lady. That’s why they seemed so loud and close no matter how deeply you shoved your press-on nail into your ear canal. It’s also why you heard that big roar and a squeal of tires as soon as you finally stepped out of the center of the lane and toward your rusted, broke-ass pickup truck.

No, that wasn’t me racing past as soon as you were out of the way. I was the one who realized that you still had your phone to your ear and thus I opted to communicate my sentiments in sign language. You seemed to understand exactly what I was saying, unless your face is permanently frozen in that horrible grimace, and if so please accept my apology for that.

But next time you could spare yourself and others all of that noise if you’d just move your damned ass out of the middle of the lane and over to the side before someone with PMS and a crappier vehicle decides to take a swipe at you.

Yours truly,
Venomous Kate

P.S. Yes, those pants do make your ass look fat. It’s not their fault.

A recent shooting outside of a Hooters “restaurant” has all sorts of folks up in arms. A man leaving the place was killed by gunshot while the manager, originally listed in critical condition, remains in the hospital.

Police are searching for a suspect with a rather uninteresting description, depending on where you come from:

Authorities said he is white with a dark complexion, is missing his front four teeth and is believed to be in his late 20s to early 30s and about 150 to 160 pounds. The unshaven gunman had a short ponytail. He had large-gauge earrings and double-pierced ears. He also wore rings on each finger as well as several necklaces, according to Knoxville police.

He wore dark blue, baggy jeans, black boots, and a black hoody with a white stitching pattern. He carried a large black backpack.

I’d started to call in a report about half of the male population of the town in which I live, but then saw that the shooting was in Tennessee.

That would explain why the man wasn’t described as having a mullet.

Or, maybe it doesn’t.

I’ve been wanting to get something off my chest for a while now, but just hadn’t figured out which blog to put it on. I do, after all, get paid to blog on all four blogs these days so whichever one I pick for this subject is bound to get slammed with comments calling me a hypocrite. Should I share the traffic (and the hate), or should I keep it all here where the word “Venom” pretty much warns people what they’re in store for?

Ultimately I decided to explain myself here at EV for one reason and one reason only: it has the highest traffic. With luck, I’ll get this message out to a larger number of people also doing paid blogging and quite possibly someone might just get the point and fix their crappy writing.

So here’s the message to 90% of folks doing paid blogging: You suck.

You suck wind loudly, you suck in ways that words cannot describe. You suck because you believe that you don’t, and most of all you suck because you think people actually care what you have to say about a product, site or service.

They do not.

No matter how the companies that handle the transaction may categorize the tasks assigned to you, the advertisers do NOT believe that your glowing, kiss-ass review of a product or service you haven’t even tried (or won’t use, don’t need or can’t afford) will convince the thirty friends and fellow bloggers — most of whom are also getting paid to write about the same damn site — to suddenly discover a need for whatever it is they’re selling.

And before you go calling me egotistical for saying that you suck, consider this: how freaking egotistical are YOU to believe that some company with the funds to hire umpteen bloggers at $15 a piece wants YOU to take time out of your busy schedule of blogging about what color your baby’s spit-up was today or how adorable it was when your cat’s Christmas tinsel-laced hairball looked like the star of Bethlehem just so you can give your opinion of something you’ve never even tried?!

Advertisers, like the boys that I dated in high school, are only interested in one thing. Thank goodness it’s not the same thing. Advertisers don’t want the key that unlocks your chastity belt, they just want the keywords that will get the entry you write for them to show up high in search queries relevant to their product, site or service.

Keywords, people. That’s what’s in those nifty little links that pay for lattes, that take a dent out of your credit card bills, that allow you to say “I’m earning a living from my blog!” They are also, incidentally, the very reason why Google slashed the PR of blogs that receive compensation for writing those entries. It wasn’t personal: it was just about protecting search results.

But you’ve kept on blogging for hire anyway, haven’t you? You’ve got guts. You don’t care about PR. You’re determined to have a good blog and, by gosh, you’re going to keep reviewing your little heart out no matter what Google says, aren’t you?

Well here’s a tip: STOP SUCKING.

Stop writing reviews that sound like Marketing 101 blurbs. Stop trying to act as salesmen and -women trying to pawn off various products to your readers. Stop it, stop it, STOP IT.

Your first duty is to your readers. Entertain them. Inform them, yes, but entertain them in the process.

Luckily, if you let go of your delusions that your job is to actually review stuff, you can do both in the process.

Remember: advertisers want their stuff to come up in relevant search queries. You can make that happen and entertain your readers at the same time.

Got a paid assignment to write about something difficult like PEO companies? Sure, you could dash off a paragraph about how they act as second employers, essentially, handling the mundane tasks of managing human resources and payrolls that small businesses find so burdensome to deal with.

OR you could write about how the rising cost of health care is crippling Mom & Pop businesses and hamstringing the entrepreneur. How small businesses generate the majority of jobs for younger workers, older workers and women but are often unable to offer their employees health insurance because they don’t take advantage of the group rates they could get through staff leasing.

Which would you prefer to read at someone else’s blog: a dry and uninformed yet glowing one paragraph “review” written by someone who doesn’t, won’t and can’t afford to work with a staff leasing company, or one that might be a bit longer and better researched but explains how doctors lease student nurses as employees but might bill them out as regular nursing care at a higher rate?

Which one really tells your reader more information?

Which one really is more likely to result in a “hit” for the advertiser?

If you can’t figure out that answer, I’ll give you a hint: it’s not your crappy one paragraph review of a service that you don’t even understand, much less have helped your readers to understand, either.

Oh, and while I’m at it, let me just take a swing at those of you who INSIST on marking every one of the entries for which you’ve been compensated as something for which you’ve received dirty lucre. Get off your high horse. If you keep writing as you have been, everyone already knows you’re getting paid for it. So stop underestimating the intelligence of your readers.

Some of you claim it’s “deceitful” to get paid for an entry without labeling it as such. Know what? It’s more deceitful to invite readers to peruse entires in which you’ve invested so little time that they read like advertisements written by 6th graders. It’s more deceitful to write a terse, “just the facts, ma’am” review and take someone’s money in exchange. It’s more deceitful to hold yourself out as a blogger then foist upon your readers nothing but dry, soulless, uninteresting pablum just so you can make a buck.

Your “hey, I’m getting paid to write this” blogs suck.

YOU have the power to change that.

STOP SUCKING.

(Oh, and in case you’re wondering, yes I did get paid to write this review. So there.)

So, I’m browsing through news stories and skimmed over this one, nearly dismissing it before the real story sank in:

American Fresh Foods has announced that a truck loaded with 14,800 pounds of ground beef, some of it possibly infected with E. coli O157:H7, was stolen last Thursday. People have been advised to refrain from buying ground beef from dubious vendors. The refrigerated truck had been parked in the company’s car park when it was stolen.

That’s right, the story isn’t that some stupid criminal made off with a truck loaded with meat instead of, say, an Armored Car.

Nope, the story is that meat which might be contaminated with E. coli was loaded on a truck and left sitting around in the parking lot.

No wonder we keep having these damn food recalls, if that’s how food manufacturers handle their products. Sheesh!

So be careful, kiddies, next time you stop to buy your ground beef from the back of some guy’s pickup truck in the parking lot outside of Wal-Mart, OK?

What the hell is wrong with so many mothers these days that they’re crossing all limits of decency while portraying themselves as acting on behalf of their kids? First there was Lori Drew, the meddling Mom who cyberbullied a teenage girl into committing suicide, and now there’s Priscilla Ceballos, who lied about her husband dying in Iraq so her daughter would win a contest for Hannah Montana tickets.

The organizers of the Club Libby Lu “Hannah Montana Rock Your Holidays Essay Contest” solicited essays from little girls interested in winning a Hannah Montana makeover at the club along with tickets to the sold out Albany concert, airfare and hotel accommodations and a Hannah Montana gift bag.

Ceballos’ six-year-old daughter’s essay began “My daddy died this year in Iraq…”. Her mother told contest organizers that the girl’s father was killed by a roadside bomb on April 17 in Iraq. She said his name was Sgt. Jonathon Menjivar.

When Club Libby Lu surprised Ceballos’ daughter at her local mall, organizers asked her about her father’s death. “We don’t really want to talk about that … OK?” her mother responded, then she whisked her daughter out of the store.

Journalists investigated the girl’s essay and learned that only one soldier was killed in Iraq on April 17, and his name wasn’t Jonathon Menjivar. In fact, the DOD has no record of anyone with that name, although the girl’s grandmother says he’s alive and well and living in another town.

Priscilla Ceballos has since been confronted with the lie and told a Dallas TV station yesterday morning, “We did the essay and that’s what we did to win. We did whatever we could do to win.”

Notice the we part, folks. Priscilla Ceballos, a fully grown woman, is now shifting blame for lying about a soldier’s death to her 6-year-old daughter whom, she says, knew the essay was fiction when she wrote it.

Ceballos has since told Fox News reporters that she’s been unfairly depicted in the media, portrayed as a liar. But, according to Ceballos, she wasn’t really deceitful.

“We never said this was a true story. We do essays all the time. My daughter does essays at school all the time. It never did say it had to be true.

There are some things, as the rest of us know, that shouldn’t have to be spelled out but that seems to be one of those true things that Priscilla Ceballos and, apparently, her daughter don’t quite grasp.

What is it about snow that brings out the idiot in people?

It was bad enough that so many folks went out driving in the near whiteout conditions yesterday. Enough of them, apparently, that our little town felt the need to interrupt cable programming with a high-pitched, blood pressure-spiking alarm followed by a notice that the city’s emergency snow ordinance had been imposed and drivers were to get their cars off the roads.

Heck, we had to fish a couple of those idiots out of their cars yesterday when they collided at the end of our street because none of them could actually see each other as they puttered along the road they also couldn’t see.

Today, the rest of the idiots are out in full force.

Yes, Dear Neighbor, it’s a magical freaking winter wonderland out there with 9 inches of pristine white snow. But that does not justify grabbing your three grandchildren to go sledding on the hill behind my house at 10 o’clock on a Sunday morning. Don’t you know they’re supposed to be sitting nice and quiet in church somewhere so heathens like me can sleep in?

That’s right: I was sleeping. All that talk about liability issues and worries over your little darlings falling into the semi-frozen creek in my backyard was a sham to get you off my property and back to your own damn house where you belong.

Wasn’t the snowman on our front yard that’s holding a plastic sub-machine gun sufficient warning that perhaps the occupants don’t like trespassers???

After yesterday’s hassle trying to get an answer from DHL as to why my package still isn’t here, I’ve given up.

I don’t have the time to sit on hold while yet another DHL customer service rep looks up the problem and gives me the same tired “It should arrive today” spiel which, after all this time, amounts to little more than a lie.

I don’t have the patience to deal with a company that hangs up on me. Repeatedly.

I sure don’t have the brain cells to spare to continue wondering why my 2-day DHL delivery is now two weeks past due.

Heck, FedEx managed to make deliveries even after one of its trucks was hijacked in Manhattan!

Maybe that’s what I need to do: stand on a busy corner in Kansas City, Missouri waiting for the DHL Express van to drive by, then waylay the idiot and rummage through the van in search of my package.

On the other hand, I do not look good in prison orange, so I’ve reordered everything from Amazon and they’re shipping my stuff via UPS.

UPDATE: Looks like there are a lot of Amazon customers upset at DHL. They’ve even started a discussion thread begging Amazon.com to stop using DHL because it has so many delivery problems. Naturally, I’ve thrown in my two cents, too.

UPDATE TWO: Make that two threads of customers unhappy with Amazon using DHL.

UPDATE THREE: This isn’t the end of the story, folks. My package did finally arrive, and then DHL did something that amazed me!

It’s two weeks to the day since DHL picked up my 2-day delivery from Amazon’s headquarters and my package is still not here.

Oh, they’ve told me it would be. Duane, ehe customer service rep with whom I spoke on Saturday assured me that the package IS on the van and that it WOULD be delivered today.

Then that day passed and Heather, the rep I spoke with on Monday, said she didn’t know why it hadn’t arrived but it WAS on the van that day and WOULD be here by close of business.

I didn’t bother getting the name of the woman I spoke with yesterday, the one who got uppity when I implied that perhaps DHL has a pat response to such inquiries which has little to no basis in truth. I wasn’t about to put up with someone from such an inept company get all indignant with me over their failure to deliver as promised. Repeatedly.

The automated reply I got from their company to yesterday’s email assured me that: Your inquiry has been received by the DHL Customer Service Department. We value your business and our goal is to respond to your inquiry within one business day.

Yeah, they lied about that, too. I haven’t receive ANY reply.

So I called them again today and what did I hear? “We’re sorry. We’re experiencing a high volume of calls with hold times exceeding 15 minutes. CLICK.”

That’s right, they hung up on me!

Before you think I’m exaggerating the ineptitude of DHL’s delivery service, check out today’s tracking information for my package on their website and tell me, if you know, just why I shouldn’t simply conclude that their driver has decided my area is so far away that it might slow him/her down from completing the rest of his schedule and, therefore, why bother with it?

UPDATE: SO, after spending 20 minutes on hold with their national customer service, today’s representative (Kelly) said that the records indicate the package has been with the same courier for each day, and that on each day that courier claims weather problems are preventing delivery.

Nice try. The roads were closed for 1 day only… December 9. Since then, I’ve been back and forth to KCMO (where my package is) five separate times. So WHY can’t their courier make it here? She didn’t know, so she transferred me to their Kansas City office which intentionally hung up on me. (And, yes, I was actually being nice.)

So I’m going to fight fire with fire. Anyone out there who feels like helping get my package delivered, please call 1-800-CALL-DHL and ask why the package on tracking number 20406098882 hasn’t been delivered STILL.

Meanwhile, I hope DHL enjoys watching my complaint about DHL in Kansas City, Missouri rise in the Google results as much as I am.

UPDATE: This isn’t the end of the story with DHL, folks. My package did arrive, and then DHL did something that amazed me.

Lori Drew, the meddling Mom who cyber bullied a teen into committing suicide now has her own Wikipedia page.

Drew and her family, meanwhile, have become the target of cyber-bullying themselves, with internet sites calling for vigilante justice (video)* since Missouri prosecutors won’t be filing charges against Drew.

There is, however, an investigation into a blog that chronicled the entire situation leading up to and including Megan’s death. The horrifying title? “Megan Had It Coming“. The title of the first entry? “I’m Lori Drew,” a long attempt to claim that Megan Meiers had actually cyber-bullied Drew’s daughter to the point where the author felt obligated to step in:

That’s when I decided I would have to teach Megan a lesson and give her a taste of her own medicine.

I decided that I would shut down the Josh account, and not be nice about it. Megan’s feelings be damned, and to hell with her consequence! I was going to protect my daughter no matter what. So I sent the break up e-mail to Megan saying that Josh didn’t want to be friends because Megan was very cruel to her friends. Naturally, Megan freaked, and I tried to keep the messages short and sweet. As a last resort bargaining chip, I figured that if she really loved Josh then maybe he could pressure her into stopping her lies. But it didn’t work, and the situation devolved lightning fast.

The sheriff’s office is investigating the blog to find out whether Lori Drew was actually the author, a move which Megan’s own family welcomes.

Meanwhile, news reports now say that Drew was not the one who wrote the final message that prompted 13 year-old Megan Meiers to commit suicide. In the new American tradition, Drew had outsourced that task to a temporary employee* who’s been under psychiatric treatment in connection with Megan’s death. Drew’s attorney claims she had “absolutely, 100 percent” no involvement in the cruel messages or even the creation of the MySpace page through which Megan met “Josh”, and was unaware of them until after Megan’s death.

This, of course, contradicts Drew’s own prior statements to prosecutors along with those of witnesses to whom she confided the details of her scheme, but I suppose it shouldn’t be surprising that Lori Drew is once again trying to toy with reality. After all, she’s proven herself to be deadly good at that game.

(* Thanks to Venomite Tom for emailing me the links.)