Fuckers

RCN can lick my fucking balls.

So can George Bush, and Senator Bill Frist.

And here is why.

RCN can lick my balls because they have twice
now sent me to collections for a charge of $77.

The first time, I got eight phone calls a day
from some obnoxious prick with a Long Island accent.

I wrote him a very lengthy, respectful, well documented letter,
disputing my charge, explaining that RCN had been fucking
me in the ass for several months now, and I had no intentions
of paying them for it.

I didn't put it that way, but you know what I mean.

Here's the deal,
I signed up with RCN for high speed internet.

Now, I don't know about you,
but when I think of High Speed internet,
I'm imagining the internet, delivered to my computer,
at a high speed.

That was not what I got.

I got the internet, trickling into my computer,
like an old man, peeing information.

I didn't discover the truth until a technician
came to my house for something else.

"Man... your connection out at the box is really wired wrong,
what kind of download speeds are you getting here?"

um....

He showed me the speedtest website,
which showed me the size of the highspeed penis
that RCN was shoving in my ass for $60 a month.

I was getting just above dial-up speed.

That's not cool.

That may have been cool when my parents
had Compuserve, but it's not cool anymore.

I called RCN,
I emailed RCN,
I talked to their billing,
their technicians, their ignorant secretaries,
their unintelligible operators in India,
their sales pricks when I was sick of being put on hold.

(have you ever noticed that when you call a company
to order new service, you're never on hold?)

So, fuck RCN.

I wrote my letter,
I had my evidence,
the names of the technicians,
the bills, the records, the credits
they gave my account when I
wanted to cancel and they promised to fix the problem.

I stopped getting phone calls.

I assumed the matter was resolved.

Such an idiot, was I.

I remember being very satisfied with myself.

When the phone calls stopped coming,
I was very proud of my business letter skills.

"that showed them to fuck with me..."
thought me.

Little did I know that it didn't go away,
it got sent somewhere else.

And that somewhere else,
two prick lawyers named Goodwin and Bryan,
sent me a letter today.

I had a very nice phone call with the lady at their office.

I tried to remain calm,
I know it wasn't her fault,
but man, was I pissed.

She asked, "we're you getting service?"

I said, "not the high speed service I was paying for"

she said, "but you WERE getting some service?"

I said, "yes, but if you went into a Wendy's, and you
ordered a large fries, and you got a small fries,
wouldn't you be pissed?"

she didn't chuckle, I thought she would.

She suggested I just pay them their $77.

I suggest they go fuck themselves while
I spend my $77 gambling online.

Oh... wait...
shit, I can't fucking gamble online.

Because out president is a douche,
and Senator Bill Frist is a walking menstruation.

On Friday, Oct 13, President George W Dickface
signed the SAFE Port Act into law.

cool, a law that protects us from port dangers.
that's cool, I get it. Keep our borders safe,
inspect cargo for bombs and nuclear devices,
make sure no one is sneaking across borders,
into ports, keep us protected from terrorism,
and most of all, make sure Pete can't play poker
online from the safety of his bedroom in Chicago,
very far from any fucking ports.

what?

On page 213 of the most boring thing I have ever tried
to read, their is a stipulation of the bill that gives
new enforcement powers to anti-gambling laws.

This part of the law was snuck onto the SAFE Port
Act by Senator Bill Frist, a Republican wiener.

He is winning points with his conservative
base by working to eliminate the "threat"
of online gambling.

When I picture an online gambler,
I imagine a dorky, smart guy at a computer.

That's not my kind of threat.

Bill Frist is expected to run for president in 2008.

George W Bush is expected to say something stupid soon,
and ruin the world.

RCN is expected to be a pain in my ass.

And I'm expected to be pissed off about it.

-p