Suddenlink: Those Evil Fuckers

Suddenlink Complaints Department
1 Shiny Happy Street of Fluff
Fiery Depths of Soulless Hell, TX 66666

Dear Sir, Madam or Other Miscellaneous Corporate Child-eater:

I write today with a great burden upon me, for a mountain of regret threatens to press the very trust in humanity from the depths of my consumer drone lungs. For thou hast slain me – not by any tangible measure but in a way far more malicious … a way that stains my metaphysical blood deep into the scaly flesh of your greed-mangled claws. Oh Captain, my Captain… My King of Kings… Please smite me not, for I present to thee … a complaint to inquire what form of fuckery is going here in your twisted little world.

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“Just sign the contract,” he crooned with great seduction, the brim of his heavenly blue cap perched upon the gnarled horns of a goat-hearted demon-agent of the great Satan himself. Oh, how I should have known.

I remember the day as if it were yesterday: the air thick with potential, honeysuckle and sulfur. He knew exactly where to hit me – knew my softest of soft spots. I fell powerless against the call of the multitude of Discovery channels and History channels I have always loved … drunk on the promise of having it every bit of it, all on-call at the press of a single button. And, oh shit, did you just say the Military channel is included? The palpitations, they did thus commence…

“Just hand me a pen!” I shouted with glee, as he delved deep into his pocket to retrieve a lump of black avarice with which to etch my mark. Oh, how I should have known…

For a time, I must confess, things could not have been grander. For I had entered into a contract with Corporate America for the provision of services… And Corporate America had contracted back. On a day such as this, fortune shone oh so bright.

And then, the skies darkened – metaphorically, of course, for this is still Texas and the welcome relief of cloud cover remains a taunting mistress indeed. Eagerly, I bound before the Altar of Truth, igniting its wisdom in a blaze of electric glory. But where were my favorite channels I have grown so fond of over the past several years?

Needless to say, vexation consumed me as I reached for my phone to call the caring harbingers of customer service. There must be some mistake. For I had contracted with Corporate America… And Corporate America had contracted back.

The gauntlet I faced was cold and lonely, populated with talking heads and mindless mouths, eerily chanting pre-programmed responses to inquiries not yet made. But through toil and diligence, I found my way, sweeping aside a final thicket of thistle to bask in the grandeur that is Caroline (in Billing).

Oh, hello Caroline… I was referred by Mouthbreathing Bob in your scheming sales department of demonic manipulators.

Humility descended upon me with the stifling calm of a warm blanket. I was in Her presence: the presence of Greatness. Caroline had no need to boast of Her own importance, for the brevity of Her tone spoke volumes in Her stead.

“But I have contracted with Corporate America,” I pled before Her almighty gavel of justice, “and Corporate America contracted back.”

“Channel changes happen,” Her heavenly voice rang down.

“Yes,” I cried with futility, “but did I not pay for said service? Have I somehow angered the Altar of Satan the Beast with my most benevolent of intent?”

“Channel changes happen,” She said once again.

“And yet, I pay all the same, sans the services withdrawn?”

“And you shall continue to do so, lest ye wish to face the fiery trials of The Penalty.”

I recoiled in dread. Had my brazen bravado cost me more than I had bargained for? But wait, that which I had bargained for now itself hung in limbo. The shower of confusion intensified…

My beloved was gone, never to return – held captive by a premium of superior rank than the premium with which I had acquired her.

But what of the contract with Corporate America, you likely ask? Needn’t even a Master of the Universe abide by the Cosmic Code of Law and Common Sense? Should not the unilateral rescission of services without recompense of consideration constitute breach and fraud, every bit as much as it would were the tables turned?

Or do you stand by your General, the Almighty Caroline (in Billing), shouting stalwart down the mountainside to we minion in the valley, “Screw you, walking wallets, we’ve already got your money. For you are bound by a contract with Corporate America … and channel changes happen”!

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And there’s not a one single motherfucking thing you can do about it either, so quit your bitching and moaning, and just suck it up princess!

The Twisted Date With My Ex-Wife

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I have been sitting here going over the meeting I had with my ex-wife on Saturday and for the life if me could not think of a title to refer to this post. Then it occurred to me, just call it what it is because there is no other explanation. I’ve mentioned it has been easily five years since I have seen my ex in person and at that time the only words spoken were fuck you as we passed by one another in a crowded gymnasium for our daughter’s high school graduation. I guess I wasn’t paying attention to her looks then since I can’t for the life of me remember. That becomes important here in a bit. I was going to give y’all a play by play of the evening, but there would be way too much quoting am I’m feeling lazy tonight. The picture above is important as well, remember that in this relationship with my ex I am always the mongoose.

At a little after 7pm the intercom for the front gate pops up my phone, since I get the video as well I knew exactly who it was, how nice for her I thought, over 2 hours late. Since I was out in my shop I opened the gate, instructing her to park in the drive, and then wait for me because I had to walk back up to the house. A few minutes later the door to the shop opened and there my ex stood. Shaking my head I told her since she couldn’t listen and wait, go ahead and get in the truck so we can head back up to the house. Her only comment to me was how, in her opinion, my shop was kinds messy. Great, thanks for noticing. Being overly polite I asked her if she would like to come in to see the house while I grabbed her package. She didn’t say yes or no, she just got out and started walking to the back door. Whatever. When we came into the kitchen my wife and son were sitting at the bar eating some cherries. The two women gave that look to one another that women do, stating dominance to the other while being grinned back at. I know you people have seen this exchange before. It was the first time these two have ever been this close to one another, like seven feet or so, with very sharp knives in both their reach.

Now, as we walked out the door I noticed something I haven’t even thought to think about since the mid 90s, but the swing of her ass caught my eye. It was strange, very strange. We got into my truck to go eat, discuss her problems with the IRS, and then head back to my housee so she could get the hell on her way. We went to a favorite place if mine, The Texas Roadhouse (I know, how cliche), neither of us ordered alcohol, in fact we both ordered food right away. I had prime rib because we were at a steak house, she ordered a salad, because we were at a steak house. Apparently she no longer eats the flesh of animals, glad I ordered my very bloody rare. She brought up the papers, if she could see them, and I pulled out the document releasing me from any further legal liability. At first she refused, dinner was over, she paid, and we left. There was absolute silence driving back except for the Ozzy I had playing on the radio. We pulled up to the house, I told her goodbye, and I was heading into the house. I almost made it, her pride almost made this whole adventure worth it, but then she called me by my actual name, asking me to wait because she wanted to sign the papers so she could have her copies. Fair enough.

It was done, I went inside to make a copy, and then I went back out. When I handed her everything she purposely let her hand gently touch the back of mine. Then it hit me, bitch you are sting a low life cunt. We were done. I went in and she drove down the driveway. I grabbed my cigarettes and two bottles of water, then went back out to the deck, lit my tikis, and had a seat at the table. The inky thing I was thinking was I was glad the night was over. She will never change, she always believed that she could not fail, perhaps I should introduce myself now. I should have just mailed her shit to her, a day late.oh well, the deed is done and that is that.

My evening ended on a positive note though, my wife came out the back door, walked up to me, put her arms around my neck from behind, kissed me on the cheek, and then slinked over to the hot tub not wearing a stitch. She always knows how to bring a genuine smile to my face. And that, my friends, is where this story ends.