Ramen, My Way

Fancy shin ramen black
Print Recipe

My last couple of posts have been a bit on the heavier side, so I thought it was time for something a bit more light-hearted and playful, just like the old days. Today, I made some ramen for a friend who came over to redo some shit the contractors fucked up in my guest bathroom. When I was living in Sand Land, instant ramen was a frequent staple, and being reminded of the this site's roots, was inspired to make theis post. Enjoy!
Student of Ramen Eating: Master, Soup first, or noodles first?
Master of Ramen Eating: First, observe the whole bowl. Appreciate its gestalt, savor the aromas. Jewels of fat glittering on the surface. Shinachinku roots shining. Seaweed slowly sinking. Spring onions floating. Concentrate on the three pork slices...they play the key role, but stay modestly hidden... what's important here is to apologize to the pork by saying, "See you soon."
Prep Time1 day
Cook Time10 minutes
Course: Main Dish
Cuisine: Japanese, Korean, Merican
Servings: 1 Ramen Enjoyer
Calories: 800kcal
Author: Joe-Jim

Ingredients

  • 1 package instant ramen (spicy) I recommend Paldo Namja Ramen, Nongshim Shin Ramyun, or Shin Black, but really any spicy instant ramen would work.
  • 1 whole egg Soft boiled, marinated if you wanna get fancy.
  • 2 ounces green onion chopped
  • 2 ounces kimchi Or seasoned bamboo shoots, or vaguely asian pickled vegtable of your choice
  • 2 ounces meat The featured image of the post was gochujang ground beef, but chicken, left over thanksgiving turkey, bits of steak, bacon, or even hot links would work here.
  • 1 tbsp Lao Gan Ma Spicy Chili Crisp Optional, but if find yourself outside of the US, get the forbidden beef one!

Marinade Mix

  • .5 cup water
  • .25 cup soy sauce
  • .25 cup dark soy sauce
  • 3 tbsp rice wine vinegar
  • 2 tbsp hot chili flakes I use a ghost chili blend, but whatever you like, so long as your butthole can cash the check that your mouth writes.
  • 1 tbsp Lao Gan Ma Spicy Chili Crisp Because you can never have enough of it...
  • 2 tbsp gochujang Preferably the hotter variety

Instructions

Spicy Marinated Soy Eggs (Day Before)

  • Soft-boil a few eggs for 6.5-8 minutes. My saucepan holds about 10, so that's generally how many I do.
  • Halt the cooking process by running the eggs under cold water, or give them a nice ice bath, Wim Hof style.
  • While the eggs cool, in a large plastic container, mix the marinade ingredients together.
  • Peel the eggs and place them in the marinade. Cover them with a clean paper towel, absorbing the marinade, so the eggs get a nice, even coverage. Place an airtight lid on the container, then put it in the fridge over night.

Ramen

  • Melt a pad of butter at the bottom of your saucepan.
  • Place thinly sliced beef (or other meat of your choosing) in the pan and lightly sear it on both sides. Don't cook it all the way through, it'll cook some more in the boiling broth!
  • Pour 500ml* of water into the saucepan. Add any flavor and dried vegetable sachets, and a spoonful of Lao Gan Ma Spicy Chili Crisp.
  • When the water begins to boil, add the noodle block. Gently agitate the noodles with your spoon, chopsticks, or whatever utensil is handy.
  • When the ramen block separates into strands and softens slightly, pour the contents of the saucepan into a large bowl.
  • Garnish with green onions, a marinated egg (sliced in half), and kimchi. Other fresh vegetables that work well are mushrooms (white button, shitake, or whatever you can get your hands on), bok choy, bamboo shoots, and corn (although that's actually a grain).

Notes

*With Shin Ramyun, the instructions call for 560ml of water; I use less because I like a bit thicker broth.
Alternatively, if you wanna go a bit simpler and more 'traditional', you can poach a raw egg in the broth while it's boiling, then add a slice of American cheese on top of the noodles and some kimchi.
"The important thing is eating the Ramen, not how you get to it."
~ Cord (probably)

Grumbles From the Grave: I am Tom From the Boondocks

Below is an email I received from Jim nearly 10 years ago. Looking back, it was probably one of the most lucid and self-aware messages he’d ever written to me, and it provided some profound insight into how troubled he was then…

On Friday, April 29, 2016, at 1:18 AM, Big Jim <email@redacted.null> wrote:

Joe Jim,

I have two overwhelming fears in life, phobias, if you like. One you can probably recall from our previous talks: violent home invasion. I am deathly afraid of some shit bags kicking in my door and torturing my mother and myself. This fear has subsided since I left Gary, IN. I live in the country on the out skirts off a really small town where crime outside of drunken driving does not occur.

I have nothing to fear like I did before, or the guilt of thinking I did something wrong. I have told many people to get off my porch before, no matter what their story was. Maybe all those claims of needing to use a phone, or “I’m bleeding, please help,” were true. I have no idea, but I never lost sleep – or my life – over them.

My other fear is wrongful imprisonment and being railroaded through the system. I have no defense against this. No amount of security lights, guns, or dogs is going to help. I feel like I am dangling in the wind by the powers that be. I am honestly fucking terrified.

It is not always enough to know you are innocent. This whole situation has me stressed out to the extreme. I am not eating or sleeping well.  For the past week, every time a car slows down in front of the house and my dogs start barking, I am thinking, “Great, here we go. I am going to get hauled off.”

I know this is an irrational fear. I am more likely to get run over by an Amish buggy, but my rational thinking side does nothing to help the butterflies in my stomach, sweaty palms, and deep-seated fear of becoming a statistic.

Sadly, he managed to manifest his fears into a self-fulfilling prophecy, and all his worst nightmares came true…

On June 24th, 2019, Jim got into a verbal altercation with his mother. What followed is unclear, but the police were called, and Jim, who was outside with a rifle slung on his shoulder when they arrived, went back into the house, up to his room, and passed out.

SWAT went upstairs where Jim was passed out at his computer, and he awoke to the smell of blood (his) and gun powder. They shot him from behind, twice in the arm, and once in the leg. He almost died in prison when his wounds became infected, but he pulled through, though it left him with severe nerve damage – a sensation of constant pain and discomfort he described as agonizing pins and needles that never went away.

Arguably, it worked out for the best; It was the kick in the ass Jim needed to turn his life around, although perhaps too late… He moved to Mexico, lost 120 lbs, met a lovely woman, and got married. He lived a quiet life, managing his pain through pot and LSD, and once again, we gamed and we bullshitted about fitness and food. In life, there are no happy endings, but his was as close as one can hope for.

~~~

Footnote: The featured image is a picture of Jim’s dogs, sent to me on August 25, 2015. The doggo on the right is Darwin, I never knew the name of the other. 

Murdered for Wrongthink

I Just Can’t…

I tried. I really tried to imagine someone I didn’t know personally, but strongly disagreed with [politically]. Then I tried to imagine gloating over their murder, and I just couldn’t do it. I can’t understand why people, the left in particular,  think it’s socially acceptable to celebrate the murder of a political opponent, guilty only of having a difference of opinion.

I didn’t particularly like Charlie Kirk. His videos always felt like he was punching down. He went to campuses, and engaged over-educated, Adoral-addled retards, then posting these interlocutional encounters on YouBoob with masturclickbator titles like, “CHARLIE KIRK DESTOOOOOOYS SOME DUMB A$$HOLE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!11”

These fuckers didn’t stand a chance – he knew their arguments better than they did… But what they lacked in debating skills and intellect, they made up for in sheer numbers. It takes a lot of balls to face down a crowd of hostile ideologues – ask me how I know? This might be why I have such a strong distrust and hatred of large gatherings…

It’s a Different World Now

I feel fortunate that I was an adult before social media became a thing. I think back to the most embarrassing moments in my young life, and feel very fortunate that none of them were immortalized on the internet… I’m further grateful that I can distinguish between internet memes and reality, but many young people today can’t. To them, the morality of murder depends solely on the ethnicity and sexual orientations of those involved – traits I couldn’t give two shits about…

“…you know that color does not matter to me. I want to know other things about a man. Is his word good? Does he meet his obligations? Does he do honest work? Is he brave? Will he stand up and be counted?” – Robert Heinlein, Farnham’s Freehold (1964)

Color doesn’t matter to me, either. It can’t! I’m a fucken half-breed myself, and don’t fit in anywhere! An unrepentant, life-long misfit who has finally reached an age and level of success where I proudly extend my middle finger and proclaim a cathartic, “Fuck you!” to people who bother me. But I don’t want to change them, and I don’t demand that anyone think the way I do, or believe what I believe, and would certainly never murder someone for voicing a contrary view!

It’s early days yet, and from what I’ve read, the asshole who did this used a Mauser 18 Savanna, chambered in .30-06. The irony is that the shooter, who is purportedly ‘anti-fascist’, would choose a modern Mauser rifle. Yep! The same manufacturer who armed the Third Reich… Then again, the world has never been short on walking contradictions…

“I’m a man without conviction.
I’m a man who doesn’t know –
How to sell a contradiction.
You come and go, you come and go.”
– Culture Club, Karma Chameleon (1983)

Resilience

After moping around the Tree of Woe for a few days, I’ve come to the conclusion that what these Stalinistic shit-heels lack is resilience – their fragile little egos can’t stand to be disagreed with, and believe that the world must change to suit them. I know better – the world is what it is, and before you can change it, you have to understand it, and perhaps I never will… This is why I’ve elected instead to carve out my little nook and live content in my own life and leave everyone else the hell alone to live theirs…

Idle Hands

I had lunch today with some old college buddies. Our politics run the gamut from moderate left to moderate right, and everything in between. But through all of this, we found humor and camaraderie in the Library and the pub down the road. We drank to the solemn memories of those who passed, and to bright futures we dreamt of all those years ago, just now coming to fruition.

I never understood the phrase “Idle hands are the Devil’s workshop” until now, or the more modern turn of phrase “unemployed behavior.”

It seems to me that many of the World’s sorrows are sewn by those who have nothing better to do…

“If your heart is good and weary,
Thank the Lord that you’re not a bum!
You got a job, and you’re not a bum!
You’re in love, and you’re not a bum!
But you could be,
Pretty quickly,
You could easily become a bum!
If your money flies way,
If you lose part of your brain!
But you’ve not lost everything now,
So go ahead and stand up tall and be proud!”
– “The Real” Brad Neely, America Now – Topic: Morale (2009)

I’ve been out of work before. There have been times in my life when I didn’t have a place to stay and didn’t know where my next meal would come from. I’ve excavated dirt by hand and hauled concrete for $6.00 an hour. I’ve waited tables and washed dishes. I’ve called strangers on the phone and talked them into changing their long-distance phone plans (remember when that was a thing?), and sold timeshare pitches disguised as inexpensive minivacations…

Eventually, I took the plunge and borrowed a metric ass-load of money for school, and spent it on an education from a vocational school as a working adult in my mid-20s. I never had the ‘college’ experience with dorms, parties, and so on…  Likewise, no one ever came to my school to debate anyone – the most excitement we ever had was a Library employee who no-showed on his third week, and we had to escort his drug dealers off campus when they came to pick up his check #TrueStory.

But it kept me busy! At first, I worked part-time at the Library, which was enough to cover insurance and gas money. Then I landed an internship. The semester before graduation, I was hired full-time to work overnight at a major telco, troubleshooting connectivity issues on enterprise circuits.

Point being, I was always too goddamn busy to get into trouble! I didn’t have time to sit around, getting my dick sucked by a tranny in a furry costume while plotting to ‘unalive’ (as the young people say) my political rivals on Discord…

Besides, Jim never did make good on his threat to ship me a helper primate, although sending me a Thai Ladyboy dressed up as one would have tracked with his sense of humor…

If You Can’t Say Anything Nice…

As I write this, a couple of contractors are redoing my guest bathroom. One of them has made some offhand remarks about “the crazy guy in the white house.”

This didn’t upset me, and I only mention it to illustrate a point: The difference between the side I sympathize with and the one that murdered Charlie is that the latter would have…

  • Fired him on the spot
  • Accused him of being a Nazi and/or Fascist
  • Taken to social media to dox/publicly shame him/get him ‘cancelled’
  • Maybe even assaulted him (because it’s okay to punch Nazis)
  • Nazis are anyone you happen to disagree with at a given moment…

The prior (like me) would have ignored the comment (as I did). I don’t have to like what he said, and certainly don’t have to agree with it, but I do hold sacred his right to say it. I don’t agree with his opinions, but many others do, and for all I know, maybe I’m the asshole?

Left or Wright?

The other day, I found a cartoon created by Colin Wright to describe his experience as a “center-left liberal”:

This mirrors my experience, and the irony isn’t lost on me… I have a feeling things will get worse before they get better, but I sure hope they get better in my lifetime… If not, well, I suppose I’m used to my hermetic lifestyle!

A Good Fork

This, you can trust!

I am a man who can appreciate good flatware. I’m not talking about fancy silverware or some gimmicky Ginsu… I’m talking about simple, honest, stainless steel. Something with a bit of heft to it, not like those flimsy, stamped metal ones you can bend like a Uri Geller prop…

“Fire and wind come from the sky, from the gods of the sky. But Crom is your god, Crom and he lives in the earth. Once, giants lived in the Earth, Conan. And in the darkness of chaos, they fooled Crom, and they took from him the enigma of steel. Crom was angered. And the Earth shook. Fire and wind struck down these giants, and they threw their bodies into the waters, but in their rage, the gods forgot the secret of steel and left it on the battlefield.

We who found it are just men. Not gods. Not giants. Just men. The secret of steel has always carried with it a mystery. You must learn its riddle, Conan. You must learn its discipline. For no one – no one in this world can you trust. Not men, not women, not beasts. This (Gestures at the fork) you can trust!” – Conan’s Father Figurine

Part of my home renovation included having all of my cabinets painted, and as a consequence, I had to clear everything out… my plates, bowls, pots, pans, all that shit… it all went into bags and totes, carted off into the garage… Unable to cook, I had to subsist on takeout, which wasn’t good for my wallet or my waistline, but worst of all, plastic… fucken… forks!

Although it did give me a brief respite from doing the dishes, it created a backlog of garbage given the influx of cardboard, plastic, and styrofoam containers, all taking up space in my bin…Contemplate THAT on the Tree of Woe!

Recovery…

Thankfully, that’s all over. Since then, I’ve slowly hauled all my stuff back upstairs, allowing me to sort through it all, reorganize what goes where, and get rid of all the tat former roommates and house-sitters kindly left… It’s all queued up in the garage, awaiting the next Great Purging™, two days hence…

In the meantime, I will continue to enjoy the simple pleasures of a good fork, stabbing firm chunks of spicy meat, and slowly slim back down to a more comfortable size while Ghost Jim nods in approval, suggesting I make some homemade corn tortillas to go with that, and polish it all off with a nice, tall cup of Yerba Maté.

Variation on a Theme: Life is Short

Prologue

“On a long enough timeline, the survival rate for everyone
drops to zero.”
~ Chuck Palahniuk, Fight Club

As I’ve grown older, I’ve become increasingly more protective of my time. I contemplated why that might be, and arrived at the following conclusions:

  1. It’s Valuable – My time is worth more now than it ever has been in my adult life… education, experience, professional certifications… I’m not rich by any stretch of the imagination, but I do well enough that I don’t sweat the big stuff anymore…and get to pick and choose what I wanna spend my time on.
  2. It’s Finite – According to the actuary tables, I’m expected to be here another 11,000 days or so, most of which (60-73%) will be spent working towards retirement. So, if I’m lucky, I might have 3,650-5,475 [relatively] carefree days to enjoy what’s left (~14% of my overall lifespan). Of course…
  3. …I Don’t Know How Much More I Have Left – None of us do! I sure as shit didn’t expect Jim to pass away when he did… I sure hope I live a long and evil life, but I could just as easily fall off a step ladder and break my silly neck changing out a light fixture…

No More Mr. Doormat

In the past, I used to go out of my way to keep people happy – not because I’m a nice guy (although I try to be), or that I really care about what other people think of me, but to avoid the hassle of being on someone’s bad side. Honesty and fairness are important to me, and I try to be conscientious and treat people the way I’d like to be treated. For example, if a neighbor needed my help or expertise, I’d generally offer it if possible, and have many, many times. I don’t ask anything in return, nor do I expect it.

A couple of years back, I developed shingles, which manifested as painful blisters across my ribs. Movement was painful, and heat exacerbated it.  I couldn’t mow for a couple of weeks, and my lawn got out of control. Rather than offer to help, he sent me a passive-aggressive email to complain about it, citing that he found a [black] snake skin in his yard, and assumed my tall grass was the issue. By then, I’d given him hours of my professional time to help him with his website, answered his cybersecurity questions, and dealt with other inconveniences (e.g., interrupting my work to get his kids’ sports balls out of my yard). Initially, he was gracious and affable, but at other times, his requests started to feel like politely worded demands. Ashamed of my yard and embarrassed by his email, I spent $2,500 to clean it up, and $1,500/year ever since to maintain it.

Now, 8 months after paying off my home, I’m finally getting around to some much-needed renovations. Seeing the 14-yard roll-off dumpster in my driveway, my neighbor offered to “give me a couple of bucks to throw a couple of things away” in it. I don’t know why this bothered me so much – perhaps his sense of entitlement had gotten to me. Maybe I was just tired of his shit and had enough…

As Old Man Bob Heinlein, by way of Lazarus Long, once wrote:

Do not confuse ‘duty’ with what other people expect of you; they are utterly different.
Duty is a debt you owe to yourself to fulfill obligations you have assumed voluntarily. Paying that debt can entail anything from years of patient work to instant willingness to die. Difficult it may be, but the reward is self-respect.

But there is no reward at all for doing what other people expect of you, and to do so is not merely difficult, but impossible. It is easier to deal with a footpad than it is with the leech who wants, “just a few minutes of your time, please, this won’t take long.”

Time is your total capital, and the minutes of your life are painfully few. If you allow yourself to fall into the vice of agreeing to such requests, they quickly snowball to the point where these parasites will use up 100 percent of your time, and squawk for more!

So learn to say No—and to be rude about it when necessary. Otherwise, you will not have time to carry out your duty, or to do your own work, and certainly no time for love and happiness. The termites will nibble away your life and leave none of it for you.

This rule does not mean that you must not do a favor for a friend, or even a stranger. But let the choice be yours. Don’t do it because it is “expected” of you.

~ Robert Heinlein, Time Enough for Love
He’s right, you know! I’ve finally reached a point in my life where I need to take care of myself, my home, and my family. I don’t have the bandwidth for anything else, and as Jim reminded me just 5 months ago, life is short!

Let the Choice Be Mine, and on My Terms…

I’d replied to his initial email to let him know I received the request, but wasn’t sure how much room would be left over after I was done (true, but misleading), and that I would let him know by the middle of the week.

I feel sure he had no intention of giving me any money to throw his garbage in my dumpster rental, and I might have let him do it had he been more forthright about what exactly he wanted to get rid of… In fact, he didn’t specify until I’d called him and asked, and even sounded a little indignant when I didn’t immediately agree to let him do this, claiming that he could pay $12 and have someone haul it off for him!

I’ve had lots of junk hauled away over the last few years, and NOT ONCE did it cost me less than $200, so I don’t know who the fuck he thought he was kidding… I don’t want or need his money, but I resent the entitlement and disrespect.

I sat on it all week. Friday was the 4th of July, and in my town, fireworks are permitted the day before, the day of, and the day after from 10 am until hours after I’d normally turn in for the night. The dogs fucken hate it, the loud noises and lights scare them shitless (literally – their little assholes pucker up tighter than a snare drum, and they can’t squeeze a nugget until it’s all over)…So this time, rather than going out to the in-laws with the wife, I stayed at home and looked after our little fuzzy retards. All that to say I was already in a bad mood, and feeling petulant…
So bright and early, Sunday morning, after cleaning up bits and pieces of burnt paper and streamers that blew into my front yard from my asshole neighbors who couldn’t be bothered to clean up after themselves, I wrote the most polite email I could muster (names redacted to protect the guilty):

Hi [Insert Entitled Neighbor’s First Name Here],

Sorry for the late reply! It’s been a busy week and a stressful weekend, especially for the doggos… They’re terrified of fireworks, and being at the bottom of the hill, I spent the morning cleaning up fireworks debris that blew in from the rest of the neighborhood :|…

Now that things have settled down, I’ve finished my part of the cleanup, and there’s about a third of the bin left. I’d like to take you up on your offer to contribute toward using the remaining space for your own use.

The rental was $[not cheap] for the week. I can offer you the remaining portion for $100. If you’re interested, I would need your confirmation that nothing you dispose of will be on their prohibited items list [link redacted]. As the rental is in my name, I’m responsible for the contents.

Let me know either way!

Thanks again,

To my relief, he didn’t reply. By the time I’d thought to check the house for any last-minute things I wanted to dispose of, the bin company had already come and gone…

Whether the request put him off or he simply didn’t see the email in time doesn’t matter… It’s over. Of course, I’m such an asshole, I was actually upset (briefly) that I didn’t get a chance to check the bin to be sure nothing else was placed in it… I doubt it, but I’ll never know, and I’m fine with that.

Epilogue

Over the years, I’ve replaced all of the major appliances (AC Unit, Water Heater, Fridge, Stove, Dishwasher, Clothes Washer, and Dryer), so functionally, it’s in good shape. Cosmetically, it’s a disaster area…

Now that the house is paid off, I’ve been saving up for much-needed renovations.
I started working with a buddy of mine, but progress was slow because he has a full-time job as a maintenance guy for an apartment complex and is on-call every other weekend. Progress was slow, and while I was prepared to work around that, he had a sciatica flare-up, which put the kibosh on our efforts.

The projects languished for about a month, and after reaching out to a couple of general contractor referrals, I finally got one to come out and make a bid. It was a little more than what I wanted to spend, but within my means, and so I went for it!

We’re about 4 weeks into a 2-week engagement… the peeling drywall tape has been repaired, the walls and cabinets have been painted, and the new flooring is put in, the quarter round (most of it) is laid. All that’s left is one more day to paint the quarter round and do some touch-ups.

Once that’s all done, I’ve got a maid service coming to deep clean, and then it’s on to the bathroom remodels…Life’s too short to live in a nasty house, and by the time we’re done, it’ll be in better shape than the day we took ownership of it. I can’t wait!

If the passage of time has taught me anything, it’s that things that seemed to matter so much in the moment soon become a forgotten memory. What was it that Tyler Durden once said about this?

“Sticking feathers up your butt does not make you a chicken!”

No, that’s not it…

“No fear! No distractions! The ability to let that which does not matter truly slide.”

Yeah, that’s more like it!

10 Year Anniversary of PorkCircus.com!

PCY10.BAT

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Happy 10 Year Anniversary, Jim!

I wish you could have been here to see it. I’d get us a McWhopper, slathered in extra Hot Mustard (which has mysteriously returned after being unceremoniously pulled from shelves about 10 years ago), but feel that simply talking about it as opposed to actually doing it would be more in line with Jim’s style :).

I didn’t realize until writing it that there’s a kind of magic that’s lost when you bring something from your imagination into reality. Maybe deep down, Jim knew something I didn’t. Or maybe I’ve come to learn that things that sound good are often disappointing when you finally get your hands on them.

Door-to-Door Sales is Harassment with Extra Steps #ChangeMyMind

Background

I came across a particularly egregious video on YouTube with a click-baity title, claiming to advise would-be assholes on how to skirt the law (read: ignore and hope you don’t get caught) when it comes to knocking on doors with a ‘no solicitation’ sign.

PR Punchline

After I posted a comment, enumerating the reasons as to why this was a bad idea, he (or possibly one of his flunkies) replied, contradicting just about everything he said in the video:

“Thanks for sharing your perspective so candidly.

You’re absolutely right your home is your sanctuary, and your wishes about who’s welcome there should be respected. The last thing anyone should feel is disrespected or unsafe at their own front door.

That’s never the intention behind the techniques I discuss. The video is aimed at helping sales professionals understand how to engage respectfully where appropriate and, most importantly, when to walk away.

There’s no mention of ‘walking away’ in the video…

Ignoring clear signs like yours is not something I advocate on the contrary, I believe respecting “No Soliciting” signs is fundamental.

That’s funny, given the title of the video is ,“Turn ‘No Soliciting’ Signs into Sales – Proven Door Knocking Tips”

Appreciate the time you took to explain your experience. Comments like this help remind people in this space that we’re not just knocking on doors, we’re stepping into someone’s personal world. And that comes with responsibility. Wishing you peace and privacy.

The response read like an AI-Generated (or at least, assisted) PR Ploy to deny and walk-back just about everything he said in the video, trying to gas light me, and it chapped my ass something fierce (although it does make for good blog fodder… ) so, I fired back:

  • @0:28 “TURN NO SOLICITING SIGNS IN SALES” [sic] (i.e., the title of the fucken video)
  • @0:34 “Often times, people put a no soliciting sign up because they buy everything under the sun…”
  • @0:58 “They really don’t care if you knock on their door”
  • @1:42 “You have to be careful how you approach the situation…”
  • @2:43, you advise salespeople to acknowledge the sign and then immediately launch into a pitch
  • @3:34, you mock those signs with flippant remarks about not being able to read
  • @5:25, you recommend obtaining a permit only after facing repeated legal pressure

Round Two: D2D Karen Has Joined the Battle

Two months go by, and I’d forgotten about the whole thing, and then out of the blue, this person decides to tag herself in:

Dude someone obviously hurt you.

Sales is just another job like literally everything else. Just cause it isn’t something you would do doesn’t make them the a-hole, they are making a living the same way you are

You may not like it, but plenty of people don’t have any clue what they actually need to take care of, CAUSE GUESS WHAT, they don’t teach that sh** in school. Not to mention, you may be able to do research, but you obviously can’t tell the difference between AI and PR responses so the rest of your “research” is surely going to be just as half-cocked.

Where do I even begin?

No, D2D Sales is Not A “Real” Job Like Everything Else…

Obviously, D2D Sales isn’t like every other job…any more than Amway or Avon is a ‘real’ job. So what’s the difference?

Most D2D Sales positions aren’t actually employees of the organization they work for; they’re 1099 contractors who receive no benefits, no hourly wages, no salary, no transportation reimbursement, and operate purely on commission. Their attrition rates are horrendous, and most people wash out within their first month. If this describes what you do, then you don’t have a job, you have a hustle.

Tell Me How You REALLY Feel…

So next, she offers a bit of self-snitch, letting us know how she really feels about her [unsolicited and unwitting] clientèle:

plenty of people don’t have any clue what they actually need to take care of, CAUSE GUESS WHAT, they don’t teach that sh** in school.

Essentially, she’s saying people are too dumb to take care of themselves, inferring that they need someone like her to come straighten them out… Given her atrocious spelling and grammar, I can imagine there’s quite a bit she didn’t learn in school… such as how to recognize AI-generated content…

A Luddite and a Liar…

Generative AI and AI-assisted writing tools have a very distinctive and sanitized tone, but you can also run them through detection tools (e.g., ZeroGPT, Quillbot, Scribbr, etc.), which I did…

While tools like these don’t offer definitive proof or nonrepudiation, in the unlikely event that the entire post was written by a human (unassisted), they did a great job of mimicking the generic, overly polished, and diplomatic tone of an AI writing tool.

Conclusion

Exposing myself to uneducated people making bad-faith arguments on the internet is probably not a good use of my time or energy… but it does make for good post fodder.