PhobosAnomaly

Unpopular opinion: burgers without cheese are fuckin’ awesome.

Specifically the McDonalds rubbery type cheese. Big Macs, Arch Burgers, whatever - all much tastier without the cheese.

Hell, even asking for a “triple cheeseburger with no cheese” sounds like it defeats the point but awwww yeeeaaahhh it’s just a triple decker beef sandwich.

If you like cheese then crack on, go wild. But it’s worth trying something without cheese for a different experience.

You crack me up, little buddy.

I still buy the odd paper if I’m working away from home.

These paywalls or “pay for no tracking” wankers make it easy to decide what papers not to buy.

Not that it really matters a flying fuck when print membership is sinking faster than the Oceangate grain of sub. It’s satisfying though.

The Fairphone XL.

Not that I’m ragging on the Fairphone, I love the concept.

Man I remember the fax bomb. Either huge numbers of black pages to burn through the recipients’ ink toner, or two bits of A4 taped together neatly to form an infinite loop.

The latter was stopped when sending machines got a buffer that images were stored in before they were sent (as opposed to the OG fax machines that dialled the recipient and “live streamed” the pages by scanning and sending at 9600 baud or whatever the handshake was at), and most buffers threw an error when they were full (usually because the sender was taking the piss) and never sent. Shame.

Cheers. It also made me think of a bit of newspaper advert abuse that an old colleague of mine told me.

Another pair of people, another spat over something minor, but one wasn’t to be outdone. In the first week of January, he put an advert into a local popular newspaper, saying something similar to:

Leave your old Christmas trees with me for a charity project! Bring your Christmas trees to 45 Smith Drive, Newport*, if I’m not in then leave them on my lawn!

The net results was days worth of Christmas trees being drive-by yeeted into his garden. Said it was the best 50p per word they’d ever spent.

*edit: I’m sorry if you live at 45 Smith Drive in Newport, and I hope the Christmas tree gods are unkind to you!

Story time!

I forget the origin of the beef, but I remember a guy who grew up with another dude who was just a complete tool to my friend. It wasn’t outright bullying, but general arseholery and making his life difficult when it really didn’t need to be.

Anyway, my friend has a long memory and a longer grudge streak. I was finishing college at a time when print media was still king but social media was exploding in popularity.

My friend has decided “fuck this, I’m going to ruin this dude’s life for a bit”. He put an advert in the local paper or freeads (for non UK spuds: the freeads or classifieds is a newspaper-style private advertisements in one place - like a print version of a snapshot of Facebook Marketplace or Vinted for a local area).

Free TV. Call 07000100100 for details.

Anyone to this day knows that anything advertised for free attracts the most annoying, persistent, and unhinged type of people on earth. The freeads was published the following week. I didn’t socialise with the guy on the business end of my friend’s wrath on account of him being a massive cockwomble, but I understand his phone started to go wild with texts and phone calls asking about a free television - bear in mind that cheap consumer TVs weren’t really a thing and a TV purchase was a “buy it for life” thing at the time, so a free TV was just an amazing deal.

It would appear the demand for a free television was too much for the guy. In true mid 2000’s fashion, a social media message went up from the clearly annoyed guy, to the tune of:

Hi all, I’ve started to get loads of prank calls, so I’ve changed my number. It’s 07000200200 now.

With the internet and social interactions online still in the wild west era, this was fairly common. My friend chuckled to himself. The plan worked. Not satisfied with that though, he put another advert in the following week’s freeads:

Free TV. Call 07000200200 for details.

The publication date rolls around a few days later, and tens of thousands of this newspaper gets delivered to stores across the region. Obviously, mere hours after the thin yellow paper booklets are released to the public, the idiot’s phone starts going banzai. Dozens of calls a day from all corners of society, relentlessly asking about collection and delivery of a television at no charge.

The guy was livid.

Livid, but not smart. He had gotten pissed off with the calls, and was unable to stop the barrage of bargain hunters hitting his digits to get a gogglebox gratis. He went back to his phone network operator and makes the appropriate changes. Not one for releasing his number in a private, carefully controlled manner - the gist of the following was posted to social media a few weeks later:

Not sure why I’m getting so many prank calls, and my mobile network are useless. My new number is 07000300300. Let me know if someone asks you for it because I’m getting annoyed.

Most normal folk wouldn’t have risked being burned a third time and released their number in person or by SMS message. That said, I suspect the Venn diagram of twats like this guy who had spent an elder childhood making people’s lives difficult; and those who don’t appreciate the drawbacks of one-to-many communication, aren’t far off a circle.

My friend sees this status update or whatever it was called back then, cuts out the reply slip of the freeads, enclosed his payment, and sends in the following for publication the following week:

Free TV. Call 07000300300 for details. Shout “camel” when I answer so I know you’re genuine.

Hilarity likely ensued. My friend found immense satisfaction that the guy who tried to socially ostracise him and physically manhandle him for “fun” was now getting Guantanamo Bay levels of psychological torture, and 90% of calls that he answered started with someone hollering the name of a type of Saharan quardraped species.

The guy never posted anything after that. Not his new number, not any angry rants, nothing at all.

I respected my pal for that stunt. So much mental torture for so little effort. I lost touch with the friend but I still think of him now and then, and I hope that he still chuckles to himself with that prank under his belt, because I certainly do.

I don’t know, can you??

…and other great 90s teacher questions!

It’s a banger in fairness. Reminds me of:

Classic

was this cropped by David Blunkett?

Mad optical drive respect.

Giving people the ability to play 90s games and burn fire mix CDs like it’s 2k all over again.

I suppose the TV licence in the UK is a sort of paywall, even if it is made of swiss cheese and enforced by folk with all the legal standing of Larry the Head Mouser or whatever moggy it is now.

I pay it, but I’m loathed to now. Not because I watch any live TV or BBC programming, but because I use the BBC News site a metric fucktonne and I suppose I justify it to myself as funding the BBC News department rather than Graham Norton’s salary.

Maybe I’ll fuck it off though. I do fancy a letter war with Capita or whoever managed the enforcement these days.

“why can’t we get a mortgage?”

“Well I bought a hot dog on a payment plan for a laugh, and I defaulted on a 38 cent payment”

“oh no”

Brooks be spinning in his grave so fast, you could wire him up to a dynamo and power a small African country

I hear you, the issue for me is that a third of your country people voted for the cunt, another third didn’t care enough not to vote against the cunt, which leaves a large majority of Americans complicit in this - enough in my view to effectively use the term as a blanket reference to most people in the country.

Speaking on a more granular level, I wish you well and the best of luck - but the majority of your population can go fuck themselves.

Go somewhere public and call a girl a chick, see what happens 😂

Seriously though, it’s not the word that’s the issue, it’s the labelling of someone based on their gender. I can’t speak for the bottom line as I don’t appear to be a woman, but I’d start getting fucked off if a generic term was used to address me when I had a perfectly good name.

In the UK, an equivalent is “bird”. Equally likely to get you booted in the balls.

Yeah laser units are pretty much indestructible in decent conditions. Can yours be connected by USB or parallel instead?

We bought a laser printer during the pandemic to keep the kids occupied with educational tasks and general craft type models.

It has been fucking awesome this past few years. It has supported the weight of many a schoolbag, been a home for car keys, kept a judo gi flat for a few days, and has even proven to be a worthy store of the multitude of swimming goggles we seem to accumulate.

Oh, it’s printed a couple of documents too. I can’t remember the last time I refilled the paper tray.

I’m guessing you’ve got a study that backs that assertion up as well?

Thank you for your public service announcement!