...yup, it's still here.

Okay, see, my whole problem is that 'bitching about things that bother me' is as much a part of my CNA as 'gushing about things I like', and that amount is so infinitesimal as to be, essentially, zero. I can REMEMBER the last time it could be said that I gushed, and it was at a TFCon where I met my absolute bloody favorite TRANSFORMERS artist. That was some years ago and it hasn't happened since.

Frankly, I think I've just grown to dislike talking.

And people.

Zeffie gives me grief any time I even jokingly bring up moving to Alaska. She's probably right to do so, if for no other reason than ANTARCTICA HAS FEWER PEOPLE. I'd like that MORE, but I have no slagging idea what I could DO there.

...other'n cook, maybe.

Uh-oh.

GOOD THING SHE DOESN'T PAY ATTENTION TO THIS CRAP-ASS BLOG ANY MORE

...the Fucktron 9000 am I s'posedta DO with this, anyway?

Ugh, the mobile interface is hot, wet garbage that's been left to cook inside a Dumpster outside the Allsup's in Cloudcroft, New Mexico.

Geez, what a plethora of fonts available.

Scrap. This is scrap.

</sigh>

Passing the Torch and Dimming the Lights on the Way Out

Or to put it another way: All good things…

You've probably noticed that I haven't said much lately. The blog has been quiet for a good, long time now. There are reasons as to why and I'm about to get into them. So sit down and buckle up. It's gonna get bumpy here.

When I started this blog, it was meant to be a place where I vented, where I could bitch and moan and whine and complain about the random acts of idiocy I encountered on a daily basis at my place of employment, which was Wal-Mart. That's the reason I chose the name, really. I dealt with so many idiots and what rhymes with idiot? Not a lot, except maybe Wal-Mart and the various idiots who happen to be managers at Wal-Mart.

Yeah, about that. Those were the reasons I started blogging and those reasons are gone. Back in August of 2014, Wal-Mart terminated me. I was the first of five (or was it six…?) cashiers who were fired. It was the usual housecleaning crap, when you get right down to it. It was the usual crap from the usual crappy people. What should I have expected, really? Wal-Mart does this shit constantly. They don't like having professional cashiers or professional anything else, for that matter. Because that costs the Waltons money.

Yes, I know: I should have made a post that very day. I didn't because I was in crisis mode. I had no job and there was no way in hell that Prime and I could live on one paycheck, so I had to find something, anything. A week later, I was a cashier again, hired by a mall Target. I thought all my problems were over.

They weren't. I was actually a seasonal hire and I was out the door on the first of January, 2015. I was not fucking happy.

Again, I should have said something, should have tapped out a quickie post here on my blog but again, I was in crisis mode. I had to get something and something fast. It took three weeks, but I got hired at a mall Subway. Yes, it was in the same mall as the fucking Target. Yes, it was an absolute shit job. Holy fucking shit, was it a shit job: I was making fifty cents over the minimum wage, my hours were shit and I was one of the few people in that place that actually did any fucking work. Did I get any real appreciation? Only by our district manager and that was few and far between. Most of the time, I was told to work faster and harder.

I was about to hit midlife. There is no way in hell I am going to speed up. As you age, you slow the fuck down. But I fucking digress over here.

Yes, that was where I was working during BotCon 2015. I don't know how, but I was able to swing getting that time off and damn, was I ever glad, even if it was unpaid. I kept that job until September of that year. This time, I left of my own accord; the Fox Valley area of Wisconsin was finally getting a Costco. Ground was broken in June of that year. I kept a watch on the Costco website, waiting for any jobs to be posted for that upcoming warehouse. In July, the applications for employment for the Fox Valley Costco went live and I applied.

A week later, they called. I scheduled an interview. I went to the temporary office and gave my first interview, which was followed by a second. Then, I was called back to the office area where I gave my third and final interview. The assistant manager--his name was Bobby--hired me on the spot. I went from making shit ass wages at a shit ass job to being paid $11.50 an hour.

I've been there for two years now. I have every intention of staying there, although I wasn't certain I would when the warehouse first opened. I was in the Food Court, which was damn hard. The turnover rate in there was insane. There were some other hiccups as well--decently-sized ones, honestly--but now I'm in a place and in a position that I actually enjoy. I don't dread going to work every day. Hell, most of the time, I'm smiling as I walk in the doors! I make a damn good wage, management can't shit me out the door when they damn well feel like it, the breakroom is filled with people talking about good things or making jokes or other things like that. We even have a TV in there and sometimes, I'm able to catch a movie, some Star Trek, part of a Brewers game, or whatever before I clock in for the day. When people say that the culture at Costco is different, they are not kidding.

So yeah, like I said, the main reason I started this blog is gone. If I have to deal with any real stupidity, it's from scheduling eff-ups and those aren't so awful. Management can usually straighten them out and me, I laugh 'em off. Like I've said, different culture. My stress level--when it comes to my employment--has dropped to near nothing. I don't have migraines anymore. GERD seems to be a thing of the past. Most surprisingly, I can tolerate children now; they don't piss me off like they did at Wal-Mart. Costco doesn't have a dedicated toy section or impulse buys at the front lanes; there aren't as many kids throwing tantrums or having meltdowns because they can't get a toy, or M&Ms or whatever. Now, I'm far more inclined to crack a joke with them while I'm drawing a smiley face on their mother's receipt. And if one is crying? I try to make them smile.

Total sea change. Wal-Mart pitching me out on my ass was the best thing they've ever done for me. For that, I say: 

Go fuck yourself, Wal-Mart.

No, I am not bitter. Far from it. They did me a giant favor, when you get right down to it. But I have heard how shitty things are getting--even more than when I was employed there--at my store and throughout the damned company. The home delivery shit that they were trying earlier? Yes, they were forcing associates who had clocked out to take those packages. As for compensation, management wouldn't say. More and more associates are being forced into the "Customer First" scheduling, which means they'll only get around 20 hours a week, if they are lucky. The attendance policy is utter garbage. Then there's the new, absolutely creepy idea of having Wal-Mart make deliveries to your home and PUT EVERYTHING AWAY. Yeah, that is totally not asking for someone to get robbed or assaulted. If you're a cashier and you want to change your job code, like you're coded to work the tobacco bullpen or you drop from full time to part time, you have to go through a shit-ton of CBLs, called "Pathways", that teach you things you already know. There's 18 or so hours of this crap and you have 90 days to get it all done or you will be written up or terminated.

My old store no longer has the original manager; he's now stinking up the New London Wal-Mart. According to him, this was part of his retirement but no one believes him. Why? Well, it took three days and the fucking District Manager, along with a shitload of other higher ups, to get his ass out the door. Something tells me there's more to the goddamn story but ten to one, I'll never hear it. (Not that I fucking care and I think the fact that we have an Aldi in town now that is kicking ass and taking names had something to do with it but still…!)

**EDIT** So finally, I did find out why my former manager ended up at New London. I ran into a former coworker and he let me in on everything. It seems that he and the AP associate at my old store had been terminating associates without properly vetting it through the home office in Bentonville. When Bentonville caught on, they were not happy. That was when the slag hit the fan and the manager was given two choices: take early retirement and stink up the New London store or try and fight this and get fired.

Needless to say, he took option number one. Seems the AP associate was given a similar pair of choices. He's now at the Darboy store. I have no idea if he's still Asset Protection or not. Ten to one, he isn't. But those two are no longer at my old store and I will never have to see either one of those fuckwits ever again. But I fucking digress here.

I'm so glad that I am out of that fetid shithole. Fuck them and fuck the Waltons.

Now, my employment might have changed for the better but other things took a very quick turn south. It all started because of a friend of mine. His name was Puffy and we met through Dairycon and BotCon. He was a friend of Shawn and Stogie, was also a Wal-Mart employee and an all around nice guy.

One day, he wasn't feeling the greatest, so he went to see his doctor. The diagnosis he got? Stage four pancreatic cancer. The doctor looked him dead in the face and told him to get his estate in order, he would not survive this. This was in June of 2015.

He died in September of 2015, about three months after the diagnosis. Prime and I have some of his toys; Prime has some of his Rodimus figures and I have a few Bumblebees.

For Prime, this was a wakeup call of massive proportions. We now have a family-practice doctor and we're doing yearly visits. On my first visit in January of last year, I had a mammogram.

There were spots in the left breast that needed to be examined. Calcifications were found, which meant a stereotactic biopsy. The results? It wasn't cancer yet but if the cells divided, it would be. So on March 1st, 2016, a small part of my left breast was removed. The surgery went well and I had a micro-vacation from work. I've also got a small scar, in case you were wondering.

My specialist and I are doing active surveillance on this. I'm on tamoxifen, to block the estrogen in my breasts and I've already had two MRIs and two ultrasounds. There's a small spot in the right breast that bears watching but it shows no signs of growth as of right now, so I'm okay.

Yes, I know: I should have said something, made a quickie post. Trust me when I say, I was not in my right mind to do anything of that sort. Hell, I damn near went offline for a month and a half before the surgery. I just couldn't deal. With hardly anything. I barely made any posts on my favorite Pokemon forums, could barely concentrate on anything. I mostly kept listening to podcasts--the sound of human voices would keep me calm--and watched YouTube videos or clicked on GPX+. I just shut down mentally. Being told that a body part wants you dead does that to you. Again I digress.

So here I am now, with the original purpose to this blog gone and my life taking more turns than a rollercoaster. Yes, things get stupid but it's a very different stupid. Yes, we're being led by a fucking Ferengi who doesn't know his fucking lobes from a hole in the goddamn ground and will probably get us nuked in a fucking war. Yes, I still have to deal with idiots but they are different idiots. Yes, work can suck some days--like the day I found out I didn't get the full time position I wanted--but it's nothing like Wal-Mart. Sure, I could turn this into "Weasel Bitches about Her Stupid Defective Boobs: Film at 11" but that would get boring fast. So I had to make a decision.

I'm handing this blog over to Prime. He's going to do something with it. As to what, neither one of us know. But he'll be taking over. I won't be contributing anymore. If I do, it will be very rare and very brief. So consider this my final post.

No, this wasn't the easiest decision to make. I loved this blog. I loved bitching and complaining about the stupid shit that happened to me. I loved talking about the geeky things and complaining about politics and everything else. I loved making posts about BotCon and Dairycon and all that. I had a voice and it was fun trying it out. It was time well wasted, if you will.

Like I said, this was a hard decision. But I feel that it's the right one. The original purpose for this blog has long since disappeared. That garbage pile job is history, fading into the background of my subconscious like a nightmare. The few times I've walked into that store, I feel like a gaijin. I don't recognize most of the people who work there, at least one has gone back to the Oshkosh store and several have switched to overnights because it's a lot less stressful. One is seeking a transfer to another store, closer to her home. Out of the dozens of cashiers I knew, only two or three still remain. I can recognize one or two of the CSMs and one of them has been busted back down to cashier through no fault of her own, but she richly deserved it. (She's the one who asked a cashier "What do you want me to do about it?" when a Lawn and Garden Associate nearly let a customer have an entire cart of items that had been paid for and left by the original owner and the same CSM who forced me to take $18 worth of coupons for free luncheon meat on cheese. Like I said, it's not right, it's not fair but this was completely justified and I am damn glad to hear it happened.)

It also doesn't help that Blogger isn't easy on my eyes. I get eyestrain just trying to read the font on this blog, bad enough to give me a headache. My new glasses help but it's still a bit rough. The eyes are aging, just like the rest of me. I'm not getting a slagging bit younger, you know.

For those of you who read my posts, thanks. I'm glad you enjoyed them. It was fun knowing that I had an audience. Hell, this entire experience--with some minor exceptions--was a blast. I'm glad I got to share it with you. I can only wish you well in whatever endeavor you may attempt. Maybe if we're lucky, our paths will cross again. But until then, this has been yours truly,

--the Weasel, signing off.

More than Toys

I've just returned from another BotCon. It was a blast, to put it mildly and I'm still smiling--albeit a smidge sadly--remembering all that I've done. However, the one thing I didn't do was buy a lot of toys, which seems a little strange. After all, this is a Transformers convention; shouldn't toy-buying be at the top of the "to do" list?

In my case, it's not about the toys.

In the years I've gone to the convention, it's become less about the toys I may buy and more about the people I see. I've made friends at BotCon, life-long friends who have stuck with me through thick and thin. Sure, I buy some toys while I'm there--the moment I see a Bumblebee I'm reaching for my wallet--but I'm there because of my friends. That, to me, is the heart and soul of the convention.

I'll post a proper report in the next few days. We had wi-fi trouble at our hotel which is why I couldn't blog. But rest assured, I will post my report as soon as I can. As for now, I'm counting down the days until the next BotCon.

To my Transfan friends: It's been a blast. I can't wait to see you next year.

--Weasel

Not Long

My suitcase is packed. My new shoes are laced and ready. And we have less than a week until we pack the car.

BotCon, here I come.

--Weasel, "Yep, I seriously need this."

Josh Duggar's Quiverfull of Hypocrisy

Unless you've been living under a rock, you've probably heard about Josh Duggar, the oldest of the Duggar's brood of nineteen kids plus. He's the guy that had a job as an executive director with the Family Research Council, had helped lobby for 12 week abortion bans and was seen as a poster boy for "family values".

He's also a serial molester.

Now, the Duggar family and its allies are rather quickly trying to do spin control; they've been quick to say that what dear sweet Josh has done was just a mistake and that things are okay now. He sinned but let's just forgive and forget and put all that nasty stuff behind us. Because, you know, we wouldn't want to ruin the poor boy's life, now would we?

I have so many problems with this.

First off, his family has been known to lobby against gays and transgendered people; the family matriarch recorded a robocall that claimed if transgendered people were allowed to use a public restroom, it would put children in danger.

Yet she harbored a molester in her own home. She even forgave him. So much for "thinking of the children".

The family and its allies have claimed that this was just a sin. Jesus forgave Josh, so why can't we. There's only one massive problem with that: if this is just a sin, then it's no worse than taking a penny off the counter of a local restaurant. No harm, no foul, Jesus will forgive.

But that makes every sin equal. Stealing a penny is like rape, which is like murder and all can be washed clean. And yes, I have a massive problem with that. It smacks of this little Onion article which is supposed to be satire. I won't quote it, as it really deserves reading but I think it covers everything pretty well. But then there's the whole forgiveness thing. Why can't we just forgive and forget?

Because in this case, forgiveness is simply silencing the victims. And that needs to stop right now

--Weasel, back and bitterer than ever

Dear Mr. Hoskins,

I am sorry I could never tell you just how much your role in Who Framed Roger Rabbit? meant to me, how much joy it brought to a lonely 13 year old girl who was stuck in a bad situation, how much hope and joy it brought to that girl and how she treasured that movie. I never had the chance to say it to you, never had the chance to let you know what that movie--and the role you played in it--meant to me.

That movie was an escape for me, a way of coping with things I didn't understand. It helped me through some rough spots and gave me hope when I had none. The idea that cartoon characters existed and were just as real as you and me…. as stupid as it sounds, it gave me something to hang on to. I didn't know why I needed that; I just knew that I did. It wouldn't be until many years later that the silly, empty need I had would make sense.

That chance--the one chance to tell you thanks--is gone now. Fate decided to step in and take it away. It isn't fair, as I know these words and their meaning can never reach you. There is no way to cross that gap, no way of unwinding the clock. All I can say now is thank you. From the depth of my heart and soul, thank you. You will be sorely missed and never forgotten.

The world seems a colder, dimmer place without you.

Early Thanksgiving

It looked like it was going to be the Sunday from hell: three screaming children, irritated and cranky customers and lines five people deep at each register. I had only gotten to work a half an hour before and already, I wanted to go home.

Then I noticed someone sitting in a motorized shopping cart. The customer looked female and her hair, short and blonde. I stopped and stared. She was also wearing a black jacket. No way, I thought. There's no way it can be her. Can it? I leaned over and took another look. My jaw fell open in shock.

It was Sharon.

I nearly dropped an S-bomb right then and there. I had heard that Sharon had gotten out of the hospital and that she had gone home but beyond that, I knew nothing. Now, here she was, looking a bit thinner than she was in August but otherwise all right.

I needed a moment, as I wanted to start crying. It had been touch and go for a while back in August.

Sharon came over and hugged me. Again, I was about to burst into tears but I was just so glad to see her. She can walk unassisted for short distances and she's admitted her taste in food has changed but she's better. She's a lot better. Which is a huge load off of the rest of us on the front end. To say we're glad is putting it very mildly.

As for Justine: she's undergoing yet another competency evaluation. This is her third, if I recall correctly. The prosecution thinks that she may be faking her mental illness, but others aren't so sure. Supposedly though, Justine has been telling people that she'll be home by Thanksgiving.

I hate to break it to her, but I seriously doubt that it'll happen.

--Weasel, "It'll be a good Thanksgiving this year, no matter who says what."

COMMUNICATIONS INTERRUPT: IT'S THE MOST WONDERF-HELL TIME OF THE YEAR

Holy geez. Last time I brought out a CI was right around this time of year, but in 2011. But it's not primarily my blog, so I'm not the bloody slacker around here.

WingTackLE (not to be confused with WingTackER, the W name I used LAST TIME ON RHYMES WITH IDIOT) is still slacking off, clearly. Not so understandable this time around, even though she's still doing the same damn things I naffed off about last time; scrawling less-than-furiously in notebooks, keeping me awake as she screws around on the Pokémon GTS looking for trades--the current X and Y games, naturally, and commiserating with anyone who'll listed about the latest news coming out of the Brewers organization (Corey Hart has interest from three teams besides the Crew but nothing will come of it until he's given a clean bill of health after sitting out the entire 2012 season). Again. The seeming usual.

Black Friday is UPCOMING, and WingTackle is not put out about the shifts she's working this year beyond having to work Thanksgiving Day at all. It means, unfortunately, another twinday of narcissitic shitheads giving her grief because they're not being served immediately--fuck those customers ahead of them, right?--and the fake-ass simpering dicks pretending commiseration that anyone at all has to work on such a family-oriented time of the year while simultaneously passing the plastic to her and shushing the three knee-high irritations who are all clamoring (and oh, YES, sometimes CURSING) for three different toys.

I see no reason to go out, either day, beyond giving her an escape during lunch and leaving a generous tip for whoever might serve us at whichever establishment we frequent. Mental health via Applebee's or somesuch. Yeah, it works.

She's quite better about the whole shooting thing, as you might imagine. The idiotic jokes from oh-so-'clever' people have trickled away to nearly nothing. Few jump at loud noises anymore. The shooter is a complete fruitbat. You can read up on this nutbar if you like, but you won't do it here, at least not by my hand.

Been keeping busy myself, when time allows. Usual crap, mostly. Been running, for a good year, an alliance on one of the mobile card games, MARVEL: WAR OF HEROES; our alliance's very simple blogsite is here, if you give a flying damn and/or play. Small community of players who've grown to be friends, I think.

+++PRIME OUT+++GODDAMN CAP WALLS+++

Loud as a Whisper

I know I haven't updated. There's been a very good reason. The past month has not been kind.

Those random shootings that have been popping up on television and dominating the news in the US hit far too close to home for me. In August, there was a shooting at my store. One of the cashiers brought a pair of semi-automatic pistols, along with 22 rounds of ammunition and shot a "rival" cashier. Her reasoning? The rival had been getting easier jobs and she shot her in a fit of jealousy.

I was there the day it happened. Although I saw nothing, I heard everything. It was not a good day.

I've been coping as well as can be expected. I'm not as badly traumatized as some of the others. On that day, I refused to go home; I stayed until the end of my shift. It wasn't easy but I managed somehow. I will admit to grabbing a wine cooler when I got off the clock for the day. Experts tell you not to, as they advise against using a substance that is considered depressive but on that day, I needed something to calm me down. I will also admit to sleeping in until well past noon the next day, as I wasn't scheduled to go in. I will also admit to jumping at loud noises for a couple of weeks afterward and the sound of gunfire will make me flinch. I have no idea how long I will continue that behavior.

I am reminded of a strip from あずまんが大王 (Azumanga Daioh): when Chyo-chan mentions that she wants to study in America, her friend Miss Osaka says that if she does, she'll be shot. The first time I read that strip I shook my head and laughed. It really wasn't so bad here in the States, I thought. We didn't have that big a gun problem.

I'm not laughing anymore.

--Weasel

An Update

Yeah, I'm going to post more, as I'm doing this in Opera now. IE seriously sucks and though Opera is glitchy, it's a hair bit more stable. (You don't want to know how slow and unreliable Internet Explorerer can be.) I'll try to have my BotCon report up by the end of the week; wish me luck.

--Weasel

Lovely

Apparently, our latest member of management is Melissa, the same female who tried to ban me from the self-checks a few years ago. From what I hear, she's going to be a co-manager.

I could seriously cry now.

My Life as a WTF? Moment Part 2

Management has made me a patsy. Or rather, us a patsy. And by us, I mean the entire front end.

So we recently got a My$hare bonus but it was the paltry sum of $135. According to management the reason it was so low could be laid at the feet of the cashiers. According to them, we were doing too many ad matches, not getting perishable items back to the proper areas in time, etc. Yeah apparently, we're not doing our job.

Yeah, that's a load of crap and they all know it. It's the shrink that's killing us, the fact that we overorder crap and let it sit in the back until it expires, the fact that no one in the building cares enough to actually try and do their stupid job that's killing us. For example: Mike in Receiving had to throw out seven carts full of four month old yogurt that never made it to the sales floor; the stuff was shoved in a cooler and promptly forgotten. It's that stuff that's hurting the profits and not us cashiers.

But don't tell that to management. Since none of them are ever wrong.

And people wonder why I look forward to the Robot Apocalypse. Hey, the machines can't screw things up any worse than humans can, am I right? Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go do something useful, like hatch Elekid eggs until I get a shiny.

--Weasel, "If you need me, I'll be on Route 3!"

My Life As a WTF? Moment

It's been an interesting couple of weeks, to say the least. Everyone at work is on edge, my poor sweet car Scamper had to spend some time in a garage getting repaired (he's better now) and we've had yet another stupid snowstorm. Our Toy department has been utter crap and there's been nothing new in stock for weeks. On top of that, we've started a new system at my place of employment--now we have to scan our badge at a computer not simply at the start of the day, but after every single break. The system sends us to whichever register it sees fit and most assignments are total crap. Everyone hates the new system, the CSMs are constantly overriding it and it frustrates me to no end. Oh and on top of that, Transfomers: Prime will come to end with the latest story arc subtitled Beasthunters.

Yeah, it hasn't been fun.

There have been some bright spots to all the mess: the announcement of Pokemon X and Y, along with a brand new Eeveelution have helped keep my spirits up and my current shiny hunt--Elekid--have kept me occupied. We're getting Meloetta in March so there's a little something to look forward to in the meantime.

It can all get better. That's what I keep telling myself. Eventually, I might believe it.

--the very beleaguered Weasel

Still Here

The holidays have been rough--my days off have been split for the past several weeks but things are getting back to semi-normal now.

I'm just tired. Very, very tired.

In Blackest Night

So I've gotten my schedule for Thanksgiving and Black Friday--I'm working both days. Thanksgiving is a 7:45 to 12:30 night shift while Black Friday is a normal 10 to 7.

Lovely. I am going to be utterly exhausted.

I don't mind working Black Friday but working Thanksgiving is going to be a bitch. I hate being around people on that day; I don't have many good memories of the holiday in general. Most of my early memories involve running to my room and sobbing because I was being screamed at by my mother. This happened not once, but every year--Mom would get so stressed out by doing the cooking that she'd lose it. As for the dinner, I never enjoyed the meal at all and didn't see the point of eating all that stuff to show thankfulness. By late afternoon, I was bored out of my mind due to the nonstop football. The only really good memories I have of Thanksgiving are watching the Macy's Day Parade and when I was allowed to wander around Kmart when we took my great-grandmother home. This was back when things actually closed down on Thanksgiving, so the parking lot was empty and I felt like the only person left in the world.

The older I got, the less I liked the holiday. Now it's to the point where I can't stand it and would rather be left alone on that particular Thursday. I could deal with working Black Friday, especially those hours but Thursday will be tough. I usually end up in a bad mood on that day to begin with and being around greedy customers won't help.

Primus, give me the strength to get me through the next few days. I am going to need it.

--Weasel, "Most wonderful time of the year, my ass."

So....

Who else is glad that we won't have to deal with political ads for a while?

One Down...

Congrats to the Tigers as they head to the World Series!

Go

Read this. That's all I'll say about it.

Dear PeTA,

Do me a huge favor and piss off. Seriously.

You are the same organization that unapologetically kills more animals than you save, so you have no room to throw stones. This is nothing more than a publicity stunt and anyone with a functional brain will figure that out.

Don't get me wrong: I adore animals and I have a cat but this is pathetic, even by your standards. It's bad enough that you went after Mario because of the Tanooki suit but this is beyond the pale. Pokémon? Seriously?! And you guys weren't expecting to be laughed out of the room for your idiocy?! Not only that just how many animals died, waiting for help that never came because you threw so much behind creating this moronic wad of BS?!

Oh well, I'm just going to sit and wait for your insane take on the Angry Birds franchise, because we all know that's coming. If anyone does crazy well, it's you guys. Until then, go dissipate like the small gust of flatulence in the breeze that you truly are.

Yours truly,

Weasel