Tag: public outrage

The Back In The Day Battle That Got Me Banned From Blockbuster

Back a Billion years ago when no one gave two shits about a burgeoning little company known as Netflix and before technology brought us the ability to stream Blockbuster ruled the world. I admit whole heartedly I’m a movie addict (a film junkie strung out on celluloid ) so I had no real alternative to Blockbuster if I wished to rent a movie I was forced to deal with them.

One day I along with a few friends went to the local Blockbuster. Its important to note at this time Debit Cards where still the new big thing in banking, and I myself had recently received my first debit card mere months ago. We walked in and I proceeded to stroll over to the check out counter and asked the man standing there how would I go about acquiring a Blockbuster Membership Card (which without you couldn’t rent shit obviously) The man told me right off the bat that I would need a credit card I have still to this day NEVER owned nor EVER will own a credit card, (but thats another story all together) ,and because as I mentioned before Debit Cards had just become a big deal because they had duel purposes. One of the cool new options Debit Cards offered was the ability to select credit as a payment option upon check out so I pulled out my Debit Card and handed to him. The employee barely looked at it before handing directly back to me saying that Debit Cards didn’t count as credit cards. He then went on to say  I’d have to have a American Express or some bullshit if I wanted a Membership.

Now to say that back in those cryptic times I had a short fuse would imply there was a fuse to begin with. Now in spite of this kick ass cool new Debit Card this Movie Moron was telling me that Blockbuster, when all other businesses were wildly embracing new banking technology, was going to refuse me over an antiquated system. I decided to turn a bad situation to a worse one because the Film Freak behind the counter was being utterly irrational so I was going to fuck up his day for being such an unarguable ASSHOLE. I aggressively asked the Blockbuster Bitch why the Hell Blockbuster wouldn’t allow the use of Debit Cards considering their backed by Credit Card Companies hence the Visa or MasterCard Logo on it. The Idiot Employee stated condescendingly that Blockbuster does not acknowledge Debit Cards as a valid form of payment as it were and if I couldn’t get a credit card (implying that I was a young punk kid who would be denied by any and all Credit Card Companies) then it wasn’t his or Blockbuster’s concern, and thats when all Hell started to break loose. I was glaring at the employee in undeniable hate while he stared at me with his best “Fuck You Face” as the volume of our disagreement was beginning to escalate. At this point it was no longer about a minor movie membership but a total battle of wills, this shit had become personal.

I launched into a full blown, brutal, profanity laced, obscene diatribe damn near screaming about how the fuck Blockbuster could be so motherfucking egotistical and blatantly deny memberships over trivial bullshit. I mean I wasn’t trying to buy a goddamn gun I just wanted to rent a motherfucking movie for fuck’s sake. I went on that I was the prime demographic that caused Blockbuster’s rise to rule ,but not only that the demographic that comprised the body ,and provided the blood able to sustain such a massive national company. I said that from now on fuck Blockbuster I was going to now refer to them as Cockbuster because thats exactly what the fuck they are. The verbal assault switched gears from Cockbuster the Crap filled Corporation comprised of Shit Sucking Soulless Sons of Bitchs to the conduct of their (specifically the guy I was/had been dealing with) employees and their eat shit attitude. It was the usual cliche shit, who did he think he was, what made him so fucking superior when in reality he rented fucking movies not like its fucking open heart surgery.

My buddies at this point knew things were way too far out of control and realized they only solution was to physically remove me from the store. The 3 of them formed a triangle around me as my buddy at the front tried to calm me down (or at least get me to shut the Hell up) and at the same time trying to placate the situation by talking over me as well as the employee to drown out the arguing. I then became aware I was boxed in by my buddies and that they were attempting to escort me off the premises before inevitably the Crooked Cops were called in. So under duress I was shuffled out all the while still continuing my venomous venting all the way out the door, and through the parking lot to our car.

After Thoughts and Facts:

  1. Cockbuster slowly died and rotted away as Netflix and Streaming became the new and far better alternatives to putting up with Rental Rejects.
  2. Cockbuster in the end before their crippling corporate demise gave me a membership with me using my finally accepted new way of the world Debit Card.
  3. I NEVER USED THE MEMBERSHIP, I got it to PROVE I could in fact get a Membership and Cockbuster could subsequently Piss Off into Bankruptcy.
  4. About a month or so after my run in with Cockbuster an article was published (and insanely popular with the general American public) about how Cockbuster DENIED TOM FUCKING CRUISE a Membership.
  5. The Cockbuster that I had my run in with closed and was bulldozed to make room for extra shopping center parking because no one else want to lease the building.
  6. I had an opportunity to return to where my Cockbuster incident occurred during a business trip and once I stood where the Cockbuster had been I proceeded to piss on it like the commercial grade grave it is.

Car Fires & Pay Phones

For a formital time in my past (starting when I was 91) I spent traveling primarily back and forth from The North to The South every year or so. I embraced my tortoise paced transient life style as I’d spend a year up to say 18 months up North until I got bored or more likely was in some sort of trouble who’s consequences were on the horizon. At that point I’d head down South and start the whole process over again (and again and yet once again) in an endless self destructive cycle.

It was during one of my times I spent in The Swamp I was reunited with a couple of friends who had returned to The South many moons before me. I found out my 2 friends Armenian and his long term girlfriend Eon where living with Armenian’s parent’s (Mr. & Mrs. Fuckedin- Thehead) house about 3 hours from where I was living at the time. I had been living down in The South approximately 6 months in a smaller than small town known as The Rat’s Ass. Armenian’s parent’s house was located in a smaller micro town called Zero for the past couple of years. I managed to get a copy of their phone number, went to the closest pay phone (yes kiddies this was in the lost time before smart/cell phones.) and gave them a call. We bullshitted for a few minutes and then decided we should meet up and to do so I should shut up shop and drive to Zero where I could also crash on the couch at Armenian’s parent’s place indefinitely.

Right after I arrived in the tiny town of Rat’s Ass I bought a used car from this shady little amateur risky dink fly by night “car dealerships” you know the kind. It was one of those places with a motley crew of  used cars crammed close to one another like Sardines on some small patch of dirt on the outskirts of town.  Of course as par of the course I had to haggle with this slimy schister of a sales man until we struck a deal on a car that fit my needs. So making the drive over to Zero would be easy as I had my own transportation and no real reason to stay in Rat’s Ass since I had a shit retail job (and I was stealing merchandise from my employer as well for quite awhile) ,and I lived with 3 random room mates in a glorified flop house. Once I talked to Armenian I went directly home, grabbed my shit, told my room mates I was leaving so fuck them and drove off into the dead of night never to be seen again.

I arrived at Armenian’s house around 1 am and met his parents for the first time. His father Yon was a life long alcoholic fuck up with a extensive rap sheet and a hardcore drug problem. While Armenian was growing up (when his dad wasn’t in jail or on a bender) made the monumental mistake to try and be his son’s friend instead of father. Armenian’s mother Yeg also had an seriously extreme on and off again passionate love affair with hardcore street drugs though she was fully functional (Armenian’s dad at this point was BARELY functional). A few weeks of smoking weed, drinking beer and doing fuck all we all agreed it was time to get the hell out of Armenian’s parent’s place and get our own. We started by looking at spots in neighboring town’s as Zero well, Zero lived up to its name and had absolutely nothing to offer. We were still crashing at Armenian’s parent’s pad at night while we spent our days looking at different housing options.

It was a picturesque Wednesday as the 3 of us loaded up in my car and headed out to continue the reality hunt and headed out of town. We hadn’t even hit the town limit when simultaneously Armenian and I notice slight whisps of smoke trickling out from the perimeter of the car hood. Figuring the car was simply overheating we pulled into a local restaurant’s parking lot right away, and I proceeded to park my car way in the back of the restaurant’s parking lot that was entirely empty. Armenian and I jumped out of my car as soon as we parked and went to pop the hood to locate the car’s issue at hand. As soon as we popped the hood of my car it was horribly obvious my car wasn’t overheating ,BUT ironically was on fire as indicated by the foul flames that leapt out at us when we popped the hood. Again we must remember this was the time before technology (and its enormously fast evolution in society) so we didn’t have a cell/smart phone we could use right then and there to call 911. As people did at this time in history we ran over to the restaurant to ask to use their phone (or their pay phone if that be the case)

I feel its important to clue you the reader in on a few facts of this situation other than my cars being engulfed in flame. I will be using a list once again to help keep things moving along.

  1. Zero is a Podunk little town YET this one restaurant was the designated “Fancy Restaurant” around the town. In all honesty the restaurant was equivalent to a run of the mill Olive Garden (No disrespect to Olive Garden intended)
  2. The population of Zero were low to lower income blue collar workers mixed with drug dealers and addicts alike. This most likely accounted for almost the entire parking lot of theirs to be vacantly devoid of cars and customers.
  3. The 3 of us didn’t resemble anything like any sort of dress code nor fancy attire in any way what so ever. Eon was the best dressed of us all in a hippy dippy sundress, a white t-shirt with some cartoon scrawled on it and barefoot. Armenian looked the most out of place of us all. Armenian was around 6’3″, wore entirely black clothes, had skin so white you could see right through it if he held his hand up to the light, long fucking fire red hair (with goatee to match mind you) ,and generally looked like he might lunge at you at any second. I wasn’t much better off than Armenian truthfully. I was insanely under weight at a buck 125 ( I looked like a concentration camp victim my mother told me), shaved head, and was wearing a Slaytanic t-shirt with worn out blue jeans and a beat up pair of combat boots.

So as you or one might imagine when the 3 of us stumbled into the restaurant out of breath and a bit sweaty we turned heads like we had 2 heads to say the least. Once we entered the front door we were in a entrance way that resembled a short hallway that led up to the Hostess’s desk. We strode up to the desk and politely as well as quietly requested to use their phone. We were immediately and emphatically (not to mention as snidely as a stuck up wannabe fancy fuck could be) NO. We were then told we could however use the restaurant’s pay phone if we needed to make a phone call. Now the thing about their pay phone was it was located on the far wall right at the entrance to their main dining room where there handful of pretentious twats were sitting eating their over priced fake ass fine dinning lunches. At this point I was pissed off like a son of a bitch, here my car is burning and these restaurant rejects are giving me a unwarranted snotty ass attitude so this is what I did next to settle this unseen score. I walked over to their pay phone as fast as my feet could take me and then proceeded to dial 911. Once the 911 operator picked up and asked what was the problem I was calling about I virtually yelled as loud as possible directly into the main dining room of the restaurant “MY FUCKING CAR IS ON FIRE! ITS BEEN BURNING AWHILE AND I THINK ITS LIKELY TO FUCKING EXPLODE ANY FUCKING SECOND NOW!!!!” It was right then every piece of pompous shit eating lunch jumped out of their seat and vacated the restaurant running like their asses were on fire too in an attempt to move or save their cars for the obvious reasons. Now I must remind you I was parked all the way in the back of the lot nowhere near anyones car in the least.

The fire department was dispatched and arrived in record time, but at this point all the could do was extinguish the flames as my car was absolutely totaled at this point after burning for 10-15 minutes strait.  The prissy patrons of the restaurant all got in their cars and bailed, I never saw a single one go back in to pay or anything (I assume they all were going to use my car fire as a reason they shouldn’t have to pay their bill’s as it was a great inconvenience TO THEM) Anyway we called an acquaintance in town to come pick us up and give us a lift out of their. Our ride came over fast as fast can be ,and we loaded up and left leaving the burnt out wreck that was my car in the restaurants parking lot like a giant still smoldering piece of coal.