The Most Villainous Villain That Ever Villained Am I

February 2nd, 2019

I guess wanting credit for what I've written makes me MONSTROUS.

I have apparently dispensed the butthurt today.

It came to my attention that someone was blatantly stealing my nerd work and plugging it into their own project. Now, I'm not hyper-possessive about the things I write for the nerd community, to which I belong. On various occasions in the past, I've been asked by others if they can use some or all of a given text I've written about something nerdy, and I'm more happy to oblige.

Usually all I ask in return is that the person involved link to my site, where they found the text originally, or simply credit me for some or all of what they're lifting. That's it. However, one of the things that pushes my buttons is when someone uses something or other that I've written, and doesn't bother to credit me for doing so. That's when I start calling douchebags out.

Upon investigating the project that I'd been pointed to, I found that this guy had stolen a lot of my material. He was taking screenshots of my site, one for each bit that he liked, and pouring them directly into pdf files for download on his own. He'd even lifted one of my documents that was specifically mocking other people for stealing its previous incarnation without crediting me!

So I called him out for doing so, and he came unglued. This winner claims he had attempted to e mail me when I told him doing so to ask me for permission to swipe my texts would've taken like thirty seconds of his life, but neither my inbox or my spam filter saw anything to that effect. He says he's only archiving dying sites, but mine has been updated as recently as, well, an hour ago.

He claims he was crediting those he had stolen material from, but neither my real name nor my internet name appeared anywhere in either the the file name or on the documents he was offering for download. He'd credited a few folks, sure, but not me - which didn't improve my disposition any. And calling the thief a thief apparently makes me the bad guy, for interrupting his work of, uh, thievery.

I can live with that. And with his righteous Facebook indignation. Cry more, thief.

What's weird is that this is only the latest incident of such blatant burglary of my writing. I've been ripped off by wikipedia, comicsvine, and some of those horrible wikia sites. And that's just my nerd text! I once had to reconfigure biographical text describing myself on my main nerd site because some dude running a GI Joe fan site lifted mine lock, stock, and barrel. Talk about creepy.

Get your own life, nerd. This one is mine!

I am the most professional person ever.

January 9th, 2019

Seriously. The most professional professional that ever professionaled.

Yesterday, I regaled you with a tale about my laptop, how it had inexplicably gone missing from where it was perched, and how it was ultimately recovered thanks to decals I had placed on it. Decals that, naturally, were of my own face. Sure, I could have probably fired it up and logged into the thing, thus proving it was my device, but the stickers seemed much more effective to me.

Anyway, the reason I have these decals, these Sticker Selfies ™, is that we recently purchased a vinyl cutter at home. This is an object that Brenda is going to use to produce, well, stickers. She's selling these online, and has already made several sales. I indicated a few days ago where you can acquire her home-made, Made in America products, but if you've forgotten, here it is again.

You can see the first product produced with this tool here. Neat, eh? And more are coming soon!

Mind you, there are no Denny stickers featured in Brenda's store. For one thing, the idea is to get people to hand over their money, not chase them away in disgust. Secondly, I don't think there's that much of a market for Denny stickers anywhere, except perhaps on the Jerk. Because you're here, after all, you must like something about me. Or just exult in my flailing listlessly through life. Either/or.

The Denny stickers ultimately came about because when we first set up the vinyl cutter, I thought we should test it out, to see if it even worked / how it worked / etc. etc. etc. Having no actual stickers ready, Brenda took a quick snapshot of my disheveled, half-asleep mug, did a few seconds of Photoshop magic on it, and before we knew it I had like twenty Denny decals ready to vandalize things with.

The point of all this is that, for some reason, the idea of Sticker Selfies ™ stuck in my head. Seems like that'd be a great product. Expensive, since you'd have to customize a photo in Photoshop ™, run off the sticker blanks, cut the stickers on the vinyl cutter, then ship them out - all without them looking like butt. Unless you're a butt, then I suppose it's right on the money. But still.

Sticker Selfies ™!

Can you see the resemblance?

January 8th, 2019

While I prepared to leave work today, I noticed a conspicuous void where my laptop normally rests. You know, sitting right behind me, with my lunch box and the bag I use to transport both between work and home. This instantly cranked up the intensity of my headache, which had appeared out of nowhere at 1 PM, and was already attempting to evolve from its current, lowly state into a truly epic migraine.

As it so happens, I had just read my e mail on the janky work computer that has been bequeathed to me, which is sort of strange. Not that I was checking my work e mail before I left for the day, so much as because I checked it at all. It's as if I'd managed to tune out all of the smarmy feel-good propaganda messages from the new CEO, whose lifespan in the company can be measured in months.

Anyway, one of the electronic mail messages, from the Human Resources department, indicated that someone had 'turned in' an 'electronic device'. That was conspicuously vague, and after canvasing everywhere I had traveled over the course of my work day, I figured it couldn't hurt to ask them if that 'electronic device' was 'my laptop'. And ask why someone 'turned in' the device sitting behind me.

Trundling downstairs, I entered the dilapidated offices of the People Processing portion of the building, and waited ten minutes for one of the salaried douchebags to stop hogging the entire office's time with his exploits about recent jet ski hijinks. "Nobody cares," my inner monologue shouted into the universe. "Don't you have a job to do, or something? You know, anywhere else?"

Glad that I hadn't clocked off before entering the Underling Slaugherhouse department, I rolled my eyes in a spot that everyone present could clearly see, sighed loudly in a fashion that everyone couldn't help but hear, and started fooling around with my Pixel. This was enough to grab the attention of the lady who sent the electronic mail about the electronic device, who shrugged.

The jet skiing dirtbag finally drifted off, my having disrupted his posturing and preening before the women of the Minion Disassembly department, and my wait was over. Stepping into her sub-office, I told her that I had lost an 'electronic device'. She looked at her desk, where I could plainly see my laptop, and foolishly asked me whether or not I could prove that my laptop was, in fact, mine.

"I think so, yeah."

I pulled the laptop out of its protective sleeve, and opened it up.

Though it won't be easy.

I looked at the laptop, with those decals of me facing her, then at her, then at the laptop, and then at her. "Looks like me, doesn't it?"

I mean, kinda sorta?

The Human Resources creature then chuckled, and handed over my laptop. Stuffing it in my bag, I then left for the day and began my journey home, still wondering why someone would have removed my laptop from the shelf right behind me, the one with all my other things on it, and turned it in to the Hall Monitors as if it were 'lost'. I suppose that's going to be one of those mysteries for the ages.

Dumber Than Even I Thought Possible

January 7th, 2019

Redundant signage. Which bonuses as a trip hazard.

I didn't sleep well last night, so I was generally stumbling around bleary-eyed at work this morning. Well, all day, if I'm being entirely honest with you, but you get the idea. Thus, it required that I walk past something a couple times before it registered what it was, in fact, that I was looking at. What I saw was the sign that you see here, to your right.

In the event that you also need to look at it a few times in order to determine what it is that I'm going on about, this is a warning sign about the alcohol waste cabinet. Sitting in front of the alcohol waste cabinet. Which is already covered with a plethora of warning stickers, decals, and indications stating that it's an alcohol waste cabinet. Let that sink in for a moment.

Where I work, people are so staggeringly dim that they need redundant layers of warnings in front of a thing to ensure they know what it is. This thing being a thing that everyone in the building has to utilize daily at some point, because everyone has to dump their dirty alcohol at least once. Since, you know, we make ostensibly clean parts in a filthy death trap.

Asking around, I determined that this redundant signage was added by overpaid salary pukes while us mere hourly plebians were out on our holiday break at the end of the year. What I want to know is whose idea it was to spend money on such inanity, instead of apparently giving the guy who doesn't know how to read in our building a gentle talking to.

I imagine they got a raise for that sign. Which is another reason the company is doing so poorly.

I Had A Weird Dream 5

January 6th, 2019

I know I said I was done going on about my digital super-goons from the City, but something odd happened to me last night. You see, typically when I find myself dreaming, I don't recall what actually happens during my brain's ad-lib sessions, save for after a few particularly odd occasions. Though maybe they're simply par for the course, I don't know. Brains are weird.

Anyway, what I'm saying is that I had a weird dream last night.

Dash Apostrophe: after exiting an elevator, just like in that inexplicable dream of mine. Minus the Hollywood-grade special effects.

Unlike most of my dreams, it didn't actually star me, as is usually the case. Furthermore, this dream did not come with the benefit of a first person perspective. No, this dream presented like I were watching a film, and an action-packed one, at that! For, you see, I was seeing what seemed like a live-action story starring no less than Dash Apostrophe, face-stabber for justice!

It had all the hallmarks of one of those hyper-polished Marvel ™ movies, with their semi-realistic special effects, complete disregard for the abject ridiculousness of the character's premise, and full-on committment to inexplicably making the whole thing somehow work. As it unfortunately happened, I tuned in partway through the movie, at which point he was the villains' captive.

The bad guys had him bound in some strange, high-tech bondage thing to keep him from hacking the lot of them up, but somehow he managed to get his hands on his sword, which one of his captors was fooling around with, and he cut himself loose and disassembled everyone in the elevator with him. They were trying to shuttle him to their lair, but that simply wasn't happening!

I have no idea where this scene came from, and it's not in the plot for the Dash Apostrophe book I have in mind, and have written somewhat. But I may have to add it, either to this one or one of the sequels (I have at least two in mind, because Dash lends himself to ridiculous misadventure), because it was just so darn vivid in my head. And reminded me of all the fun I had with Dash in the City.

The fourth installment in this series.

Welcome to 1998!

January 5th, 2019

Sebastian Gorka thinks I'm an Obnoxious Jerk.

You might recall that, a bit back, I ended my tryst with Twitter, and minimized my contact with Facebook. I did this primarily because both of those sites are doing their best to cater to literal Nazis, while curtailing everyone else's use of their services, ostensibly because they are scared of being called out for 'bias' by Nazis. Which seems a strange thing to be scared of.

I did this because, for decades now, I have maintained my very own web site to share whatever I feel like, leaving the antisocial media creatures for intaction with others. While I used those antisocial media services, I never got rid of my own site, even if it changed form (and the associated domain) more than a few times. Because I like having my own site.

It's kind of nice to be able to post whatever content you like, as long as it doesn't actually break the law, without being censored by the underpaid minions of these billion dollar corporate behemoths. And make no mistake, I have been slapped down numerous times by said behemoths, primarily because what I said got under the skin of some right-wing puke or another.

And not because it actually violated their sites' terms, but because they whined to the site in question about what I said, instead of just blocking me like this literal Nazi.

Apparently, the rest of the universe is catching up to me - or at least, catching back up to 1998. The clowns at Vice, for instance, have twigged onto the notion of deleting your social medias and simply... making your very own web site. Congrabulations, Vice, you've caught up with me. Took you a few decades, but it's nice to see that you've come around to my way of thinking.

Douchebags.

Robots Slumming In Disguise

January 4th, 2019

Robots Disguised As Rusty Station Wagons?

One of the things that always bothered me about the Transformers was the fact that, despite the fact that they were supposed to be in disguise, they run around with their faction symbols on full display. I assume that this is so that kids would know which robot was good and which was evil, but that always served as a terminal disconnect in my mind.

What I'm saying is that, if trying to determine whether or not one of their enemies were spying on them nearby, all they had to do was to look for the bright, bold symbols saying that vehicle belongs to them. And then, you know, blow the living daylights out of it while they were sitting idle and helpless. Because if I were a Decepticon, that's what I would do.

This is why, when I'm driving down the road for whatever reason, it irks me to no end when I spy someone putting around with an Autobot or Decepticon symbol plastered on their car. I would be marginally less vexed if it were some sort of sleek, expensive looking sports car that has been so branded by its owner, because at least a self-respecting Cybertronian would consider that form.

But when it's, say, a rusted out station wagon, nope. Just nope. And don't even get me started with the whole 'well, maybe it's the perfect form because nobody would expect that rusty, broken down hunk of junk to be a powerful alien combatant in disguise' garbage. I didn't even buy that in the live-action movie when the yellow guy was posing as a broken down garbage heap. And I don't buy it now.

Again, I say nope.

Draw Doodles!

January 3rd, 2019

Draw Doodles!

Just yesterday, I mentioned the wonderful artwork my wife produces, and I found myself thinking that some of y'all just might be interested in what she's up to, creatively speaking. As such, I figured I would point the lot of you towards where she's starting to build out an online business dealing with precisely that. In case you were wondering, it's over on that Etsy site.

The name of her store is Draw Doodles, and she's selling a wide variety of products for your purchasing pleasure. Whether you're looking for bunny stickers, amazing wall decals, beautiful pet portraits, digital washi tapes, adult coloring book fodder, or anything else she's likely to add in the near future, this is the place to go. Be a trend setter, and get them before all your friends do!

Unlike a lot of the people selling things on Etsy, she isn't just importing bargain bin garbage from Chinese manufacturers, and then marking it up while claiming it's made in America. No, she's an American craftswoman, producing the art and manufacturing the goods right here, in this country. So put your money where your mouth is, and buy American. Support American businesses, already!

After all, just look at that cute bunny art! Look at it!

The Greatest Satan

January 2nd, 2019

Truly, the Greatest Satan.

In the past, I've mentioned the fact that the site was not always obnoxiousjerk.com, or even banality.com, but thegreatsatan.com. Well, probably the .org or .net, because my memory fails me the older I get, but whatever. As is my tendency, I hopped on Godaddy after gibbering about the old domain names on the first of the year, and was poking around with domain names.

What's funny is that thegreatsatan.com is selling for twenty thousand dollars, now. That's a whole lot of money for a domain that's just sitting there, collecting dust. Were I smart, I'd bid a hundred dollars for it, like I did with banality.com, since they wanted almost three thousand at the time, and apparently I was the only person who ever expressed interest. Which is inexplicable.

The .net and .org variations on the theme are going for a song, naturally, because nobody wants one of those. But what I found great is that while thegreatsatan.com requires one to hand over their first born child in exchange, one can purchase thegreatestsatan.com for only twenty bucks. Well, that is until someone reads this and picks it up, and then they'll probably mark it up.

Instead of doing something with it.

I imagine that, had I not already invested myself in obnoxiousjerk.com, I'd pick up the thegreatestsatan.com or greatestsatan.com for use as my personal site. I mean c'mon, there's a bunch of great Satans out there, but the greatest Satan? There's literally only one! And besides, my wonderful wife has already produced the perfect mascot image for such a site, based on one of my old characters.

Bonus nerdery: the Great Satan written up for the nerd game I support on my nerd site. Complete with much worse art created by me like what, twenty years ago?

Insert Pithy New Year's Day Title Here

January 1st, 2019

What do you know, it's January 1st again. January 1st, 2019!

You'd think I really like this image.

As is my wont, I've come to the Jerk to comment on the calendar rolling over once more. This is a thing I tend to do, even though the whole thing is silly. On the other hand, at least I'm not assaulting you with New Year's listicles or whatever the current clickbait trend is, but I'm not even monetizing this site (yet), so you need not fear any of that hokum rearing its ugly head here.

Mind you, the big difference between the last couple of times I've done this and today is that I'm doing so on a completely different domain! That's right, I am no longer thegreatsatan.com or banality.com, but www.obnoxiousjerk.com! And while I loved the second of those domains, the truth is that I wasn't using it to its fullest extent, so hopefully the new owner can.

While I have set a few 2019 goals for myself, a lot of them are inline with I'd already planned. I have a set amount of progress I'd like to make on my role-playing game site, Technohol 13. I am going to try really hard to get in better shape, because I made a bit of progress in that regard last year, and would like it to continue. Oh, and I'm going to write here more.

While I'm not about to declare that I'm going to update this site daily again, as I attempted in 2016, I am nonetheless going to keep making more Jerks. Hur hur. I'm not sure why I started calling my individual updates to this site Jerks, but it popped in my head and it stuck. Which is kind of why I write here. Some thoughts need to be put to pixel so they get out of my brain, finally.

So I guess stay tuned? I'm more than prepared to mortify you with the minutiae of my tortured, tortured thought process. You've been warned!