Thursday, December 8, 2016

Ass Hat

As another Lame Cherry exclusive in matter anti matter.

I miss the good olde days of Grandfather, when working with wogs meant screaming loud in English at foreigners who could not speak English, and when that did not work, a handy stick communicated immensely well.

That is why when .............ok I can't say what the job was.

How about this, there was this program harvesting two legged potatoes who had interesting ideas on how potatoes should be, and my job was answering the phone, sort of.

For some reason the tops all thought in affirmative action that putting this Yank in charge was a good idea, and that in 3rd world shit hole, it would be a good idea to put a foreigner in charge.

Let's just say that my job was boring. I mean dialing up long distance and completing a call was not the most interesting occupation on the planet, and since childhood, I had this penchant for livening things up. Sort of like Jonathan Winters creating characters.

My boss was named Poh Asshat, pronounced Poe Uhshot. For some reason every time the front office called though, someone answered the phone that this was Ass Hat's office, and kept calling him Pooh.
For some reason Ass Hat did not appreciate the dialect problem I had, nor my explanation that Pooh was like Winnie the Pooh and not excrement. I remember a loud lecture as Indians go that went something like this:

Lame, are you calling me Pooh or Poe?

I don't know what you mean.

I mean, it sounds like you are calling me Pooh and not Poe.

Oh, well I am calling you Pooh, and I apologize if it sounds like Pooh.

Ass Hat was rather confused by this and apparently filled out some forms to DC on this which I was questioned on again, and provided the same answer.

For some reason Ass Hat just did not get things in his super Asian intelligence, as all Asians are super intelligent. Like the time we were out on.......a long distance call, and I happened to regale him on the Darwinian Theory of life.

It started blandly with me saying something about, "You know Indians really have no purpose in life as they are just there taking up space."

That really impressed the boss, as he was so stunned that he could not reply. Not waiting, I continued with, "Science has proven this, that the Indian was best suited as tiger food in India, and when the Brit sent the wogs to Africa to build railroads at Tsavo, they were best suited as lion chow.
The world would be a better place if India just fed Indians to tigers instead of selling their little girls to Muslim to ass rape, as the tigers would increase in population, as I always wanted to go on a tiger hunt, not so much an Indian hunt.
Thing is though, the Indian has to stop eating that damn curry, as it makes them too spiced up and gives tigers and leopards stomach ailments from that hot food".

I think that got two forms filed on me back at DC. I think I replied something about testing a psychological theory I had and was working on submitting a paper on it to raise in the ranks from the field to wow the superiors.

Ass Hat never really took to me though, even after all I tried to help him with humor and his scientific education. He really would have been better off  though in keeping me around, like the time he was reporting some serious intelligence on "banging a girl" which came in, and I was not around to tell him in Yank it meant sex.
Filled up a filing cabinet in surveillance on that one. Lots of good video too of the sex. I think it made it into the top 10 of the most viewed security files to study that year. Just something about monkeys, organ grinding and blue parrots doing commentary that American porn never discovered by the NSA did.

It was the last thing though which sort of cemented my relationship with Ass Hat. Like all Indian males, he thought he was the testosterone gift to women. As we were sitting in his office one day, I asked where he got his tampons from, as overseas they were just impossible to get, and I had to ship them in by the casket literally, as no one ever looked inside caskets.

Ass Hat was puzzled by my queery again, and said something about him being a male. I countered with the ethnical observation that it was hard to tell with Indians, in the women had beards and the males were fag hairless,  and with the jammies they wore you could never see their little dicks any way, so I said it was ok that Ass Hat was trying to pass as a male as in India women were second class and he did not stand a chance to advance, unless he was passing as a man.

Thing is with Indians, they go into freeze when they are emotional, and then comes out this jibberish, so you reply something like, "I don't understand that monkey talk"........or maybe it was, "Your tone is making this conversation uncomfortable Ass Hat, and I will have to file a report on this incident even if he was a transsexual".

His report made him sound insane, and my report was compassionate about Ass Hat being a woman trapped in a man's body in over compensating spying on sex pervs dressed up like Johnny Depp, discussing tampons with me, and of course having an inferiority complex in  thinking his people only had one purpose in life in being road kill.

That is what it is like working with foreigners. It is  an ok job answering phones and after awhile they develop a healthy fear of you for being that square peg in the round hole.

I think the last conversation I had with Ass Hat was something about when the tigers come back, I was going to invite him along as the tigers would be used to eating Indians by then, and he would make good bait, but he could trust me to protect him from the hay rick, as I always hit what I aimed at.