>> ^ChaosEngine:

>> ^GenjiKilpatrick:
Hah! But no, seriously.
@<a rel="nofollow" href="http://videosift.com/member/lantern53" title="member since August 6th, 2010" class="profilelink">lantern53 knows.. that depriving servers of a living wage and forcing them to bust their asses for 5% gratuity on a $130 check.. you know, builds character.
Struggling in quasi-poverty for years of your life is what the American Dream is all about! duh.
That's why Mitt Romney is such a great American and needs to be President.
He knows what it's like.. to force people to struggle. For their own good.
p.s. - Everyone knows that raising the minimum wage is just another Socialist/Marxist scheme by Obama to disenfranchise the Job Creators in this country.
While I completely agree that people should be paid a living wage, I don't really have a problem with tipping. People should bust their asses in their job, especially if your job is customer facing. Customer service in the USA is so much better than almost anywhere else I've been, (it's particularly bad in NZ)


Just a meaningless anecdote (just find it funny that you mention it):

I went to Sydney once (15 years ago) and the very first day, I went to a place called the Juba Cafe. My friend and I were surprised to find porridge on the menu, because all I knew of porridge was from Oliver Twist or Little Orphan Annie. Our server, who's name was Anna, was really surprised to hear it, so she bought us porridge to convince us it was good. It was. Then, after we ate (before we tipped her) she invited us over to her apartment for some wine that night. When we got there, she had invited all her friends over to meet "her new Americans." They gave us wine, we talked for a long time about NZ (where she was from) and they rolled me the first "baseball bat" that I ever smoked, with the the little cardboard filter in it and everything. They also introduced me to Aphex Twin (the "Richard D. James Album") and we bonded over Ween, which I was surprised to hear they knew all about, even in 97'. So, after we were completely blitzed, Anna and her friends took us out to dinner, where we ate and drank and talked for hours and didn't pay a dime while these guys all treated us to a great first night in their city. I'm not even sure how we got home, but they sure didn't let anything bad happen to us.

The reason I mention it, is that I would say it was, easily, the best service I've ever had in my entire life, anywhere. We had to leave town the next day and I never saw or spoke to any of those guys again. I really wish I'd kept in contact with them because I owe them so much more than a night out. I still roll a fat bat and pop in the Aphex Twin on a pretty regular basis.

*isdupe
>> ^jonny:

dupeof=http://videosift.com/video/Snowmobile-DOUBLE-fail

2 more comments have been lost in the ether at this killed duplicate.

I think the people you are referring to are commonly called "women".

>> ^kymbos:

I'm with him all the way, except that once someone has cut my hair, some sort of Stockholm Syndrome takes effect and unless they completely f ck it up, I'll go back to them every time until they leave town or die. What I don't understand is people who love to get their hair cut. But then again, some people love to shop, so there you go.

I'm with him all the way, except that once someone has cut my hair, some sort of Stockholm Syndrome takes effect and unless they completely f*ck it up, I'll go back to them every time until they leave town or die. What I don't understand is people who love to get their hair cut. But then again, some people love to shop, so there you go.

>> ^bmacs27:
Do you trust rich individuals?


I trust individuals better than collections of people, whether they be rich or poor. I think government has allowed corporations to become a collection of rich people, and I fear them more than a single rich person.

My family comes from southern mill towns where rich landowners would place debts on less intelligent common folk and basically they became indentured servants. The mill town owner would work it out so the debt would compound faster than they'd be able to feasibly make the payments. The owners would also force them to shop at his general store (hugely marked up prices) and not leave the grounds. When someone tried to leave town, the owners typically paid off the sheriff who would round them up (after a good beating to discourage that kind of behavior).

They were typically rich landowners (individuals). But, they were colluding with the hired gun of the land: the government. Sheriffs tend to be elected, too.

Doc Holliday (1851-1887)

DocJohn Henry Holliday was born in Georgia in 1851. An educated man, John learned mathematics, the sciences, and earned a degree in dentistry (hence his nickname, “Doc”). He disliked the teeth trade, preferring to spend his time playing poker, and after being diagnosed with tuberculosis, he went west to partake of the dry climate.

Despite his genteel upbringing, what Doc really liked to do was have a good time. His idea of a good time involved gambling on cards, drinking whiskey, and enjoying the attentions of a lady or two. A really good time featured all three at once. It has been said that he drank three quarts of whiskey on an average day, and when he got serious about the job, could kill five or six.

Together with his occasional paramour, “Big Nose” Kate Elder, Holliday went on a violent, lucrative, and whiskey-soaked spree through the territories. He tended to leave town under threat of arrest or one step ahead of a posse, and at one time was wanted for various crimes in Kansas, Texas, Missouri and Arizona. He holed up for a time in Tombstone, Arizona, arriving shortly before the Earp brothers, with whom he became embroiled in the animosity which led to the gunfight at the OK Corral.

His TB worsened, causing him to regularly cough up blood. Strong whiskey seemed to stem the hacking, so Doc drank from dawn to dusk. He checked into a hospital for consumptives in Glenwood Springs, Colorado, where, as a wealthy man, he bribed nurses to bring him his self-prescribed medicine. Otherwise, he remained a model patient until he died. He was 36 years old.

Big Nose Kate (1850-1940)

Known at various times as Kate Fisher, Kate Elder, or Kate Cummings, Mary Katherine Haroney was born in Budapest, Hungary, the oldest child of a wealthy physician. Her father moved to Mexico in 1862 to act as the personal physician for Emperor Maximilian I. In 1865, when the Mexican government imploded, the Haroney family relocated to Davenport, Iowa, where Dr. and Mrs. Haroney managed to die within the year, leaving Kate an orphan.

The intervening years are a blur, but by 1874 Kate was living in Dodge City, Kansas, where she sold her charms in a brothel owned by Nellie Earp, wife of James Earp, the less famous older brother of Virgil, Morgan and Wyatt. While living in Dodge, Kate met Doc Holliday, who would be part of her life for many years.

Kate could match Doc drink for drink, and her temper was, if anything, even more volatile than his. She carried a derringer in an ankle holster, and when crossed, could curse a trailhand back into church. After she’d had a few, her verbal tirades took on a cosmopolitan flavor as she assaulted her opponents in a hair-raising potpourri of Hungarian, French and English. Many times, sadly, when Kate slipped into banshee-mode, her target was Doc Holliday.

They were quite the couple. The phrase “love birds” can share space in the same sentence as the words “Doc” and “Kate” only as a means of defining what they absolutely were not. We’ve all had friends like Holliday and Big Nose (hopefully without the shootings and stabbings), or witnessed their like. You know, they start the night acting like Siamese twins attached at the lips, drinking and dancing without a care in the world, then, for reasons even they probably don’t understand, they spend the next few hours auditioning for the Springer show—yelling, chasing, crying, slapping, pouting—until, just at the very apogee of ugliness, they make up and sneak off to screw in the laundry room. Such was the daily reality of Kate’s relationship with Doc Holliday.

Kate’s epic drinking habits once got her and Holliday in a whole hill of trouble. They had been fighting and Kate, in a cloud of rage, went to a saloon, where she encountered Tombstone sheriff Johnny Behan. He was sitting with members of the feared outlaw gang, the Cowboys, lead by a rancid little psycho called Curley Bill Brocious and his frequent partner in crime, the gunman Johnny Ringo. (At a saloon in Prescott, Arizona, Ringo, a specialist at shooting unarmed men, offered to buy a man a whiskey, but when the man ordered a beer instead, Ringo shot him dead.)

The Cowboys were involved in a feud with the Earp brothers and Doc Holliday, a feud that Sheriff Behan encouraged because he was a weasel and felt threatened by the Earps’ influence in “his” town. When Kate thundered into the saloon, the boys saw an opportunity. Someone, surely one or more of the Cowboys, had recently robbed a Wells-Fargo wagon and murdered the driver. The Cowboys and Behan bought Kate as much whiskey as she could drink and persuaded her to swear that it was Doc Holliday who had done the deed, which she did right on the spot.

Kate recanted after she sobered up. Doc forgave her, and their relationship continued along its usual tempestuous course until Doc finally became so ill he required hospitalization. They never saw each other again, and Kate returned to Arizona, where she lived well into her 90s.

The building that was once the Grand Hotel in Tombstone is, today, Big Nose Kate’s Saloon. Numerous visitors have claimed that Kate’s ghost haunts its back rooms and corridors. Big Nose Kate was a hellion in life, a free spirit, an ass kicker and a name taker, so her lingering spirit is likely one spitfire of a spook.
-Modern Drunkard

"Downtown Dallas, at least in 1986 at least, there wasnt anything to do down there, at 5 o'clock everyone would leave town"... Thats pretty much the same way it is today.

*unsticky, but the court advises all suspects that they should not leave town.

qm, I don't know why I even bother, but as long as you are willing to set 'em up, I'm happy to knock 'em down.

War: OK, Clinton's Bosnia vs. Bush's Iraq. Which one turned out better? FDR was also pretty good in the war dept.

How to unite the country: Bringing our boys home, restoring our civil rights, patching up the economy and health care would be a great start. Although Republicans have been recently successful at selling their brand, when you look at the actual issues, the American public is actually pretty liberal. Beyond this, the governmental circus of 'rule by fear' is likely to leave town once the libs come to power, which is always good for a country's morale.

Diversity: I'm not sure what I could say to help a person out who throws around terms like 'hemophiliac poo-pushers', but here goes. You don't need to fear blacks, gays or muslims anymore, qm. That fear is the glue that keeps your mind closed and your ideology in dark ages. There are many a good arguments to be made about political correctness run-amok, but until you have developed a basic respect for all races, sexual preferences, etc., your opinion is baseless. Many in your party are growing up out of this phase; maybe you should consider joining them.

Beyond this, I never hear your rhetoric stray from the standard far-right talking points. I mean, I suppose it's possible that you've thought out each and every issue on your own and just happen to be perfectly in lock step with the republican thought patrol, but to the casual observer, you seem to be a patchwork of other peoples ideas.

Do you have any unique thoughts or ideas that separate you from the flock?