Having Fun With Those Absurd Agree and Disagree Applications

In this economy, employers should be asking the right questions. If you're one of those people applying for work, I can help you, if you ask, nicely.

While helping out a friend fill out a resume and some job applications the other day, I was starting to understand why she was getting so frustrated.  Those applications, online or offline, that ask you if you strongly disagree, disagree, neither agree or disagree, agree and so on can be confusing and, to be brief, just plain stupid .

There were a lot of applications like that, that she was filling out.  Quite a few of them didn't ask much information regarding what skills she had or where she worked all her life.  Most of the time, the way the questions were asked, were more of the confusing psychological type that wanted to play a game of absurd therapy with you instead of being direct and asking pertinent questions.

I liked it better, in the old days, which wasn't that long ago, really, where the employer would ask you for recommendations from other people.  Some cared if those came recommendations from family or friends or people you had worked with and worked for. Then they would ask for your work history.  All of this, to me, is acceptable.  You know.  Where have you worked?  How long, did you work, at each place? You would make a list of your skills, too and check a page or two full of those questions, pertaining to your skills.   Those questions, I can truly accept and understand.  I can get behind logic like that.

And a lot of these "Strongly Agree and Strongly Disagree situation and feelings questions" leave out important details and/or a lot to be interpreted wrongly, too.

You can try to convince me, if you want to waste your time, that the employers, these days, have you fill out the stupid agree and disagree questions for reasons that would make them believe you're not a thief or a sociopath or any other type of undesirable person.  I'm just not buying into it.  Be straight or be gone, moronic employer!  That's what I'd say to those employers looking to play psychological games with an application and the applicant.  I don't play games with people, no matter who they are.

This friend wanted my help in trying to figure out the confounding questions, sometimes, and I helped before I got to the point where I wanted to bang my head on the wall, in frustration.  I think we ended up looking at four of them in one day and while she filled them out.  Now, that my friends, was really work.

People are going to lie, most of the time, anyway, with these silly multiple choice questionnaires.  There are no guarantees in this society that someone isn't going to go from behaving normally to going, suddenly, batshit crazy and kill everyone in a office cubicle or in a warehouse. People know what their potential employer wants to hear or see when they check off on the options on the forms, electronic or not, given to them.  If they don't, I neither strongly agree or strongly disagree that the applicant will be living in their parent's basements all of their unnatural lives until their bones turn to dust mites.  Depends on the person's work habits and what place they want to get hired on as an employee.  Depends on a lot of things that would take a lifetime to explain, in truth.

This is where ordinary human robots can be found.  The typical office.  The supervisor is your overlord.  He demands obedience or else.

Still, all in all, I'm looking to hire some people for my next project.  But first, you will have to pass a test involving cage fights with genetically enhanced pythons with 7 inch fangs, lovable, smart-mouthed teenagers that scream and foam at the mouth, if they don't have the latest smart phone on the market, along with a team of circus midgets, riding ferocious polar bears.

You'll all be put in a cage to prove your mettle and that you're qualified for the job.  If you survive, you will be asked to fill out (this is just a sample) the following questionnaire.  There are a lot of similarities between this one and the ones my friend encountered and had to fill out.  Believe me!

_________________________________________________

I'm a team player most of the time.
_Strongly Agree
_Strongly Disagree
_Neither Agree or Disagree
_Agree
_Disagree

You will listen to a co-workers complaints, about a task given to them, then try to assist them.

_Strongly Agree
_Agree
_Neither Agree or Disagree
_Disagree
_Strongly Disagree

You wish to sell a product that a customer thinks may be over priced.  They're wearing a Batman mask and a pair of ruby red slippers (a la Dorothy from The Wizard of Oz).  You try to convince he or she to buy the coffee maker.

_Strongly Disagree
_Disagree
_Neither Disagree or Agree
_Agree
_Strongly Agree

A supervisor gives you lengthy criticism over the way you spoke to a customer on a Thursday afternoon, around 9:24, when the workplace had been suddenly overran by deadly spiders and wicked prostitutes.  You say, "Thank you, sir.  I enjoy pasta," in response.

_Strongly Disagree and Strongly Agree
_I'm not sure if I stopped my car, completely, at that one stop sign this morning
_Zena: The Warrior Princess, could probably answer this question.  Something just tells me this to be true.
_Agree
_Cantaloupe

Your day's work has been destroyed by a fire but your employer wants you to start back from scratch and will not be pleased until you finish the work.  Seeing that you're about to pass out from the fumes, she offers you a carrot.  A coworker later walks past you, pinches their hardened, fully erect left nipple and continues walking, while singing a show tune.

_Strongly Agree
_Strongly Disagree
_Strongly Have a Boner
_Strongly Eat the Carrot
_Strongly Shake Your Head and Wonder How You Got Here

Your co-workers and employer throw you a surprise birthday party on company time.  You open the gift that everyone but that one tight ass chipped in to buy you.  It turns out to be a worn out, heavily dented, wooden, sticky pencil.  You show an excited exuberance, toward the gift, that would put Las Vegas showgirls to shame, by comparison.

_Strongly Agree but do it with a side of Small Disagreement mixed with obvious apathy
_Agree
_ I want to make up my mind, but I'm missing the instruction booklet
_Disagree
_I will or I won't go on quest to find rainbow colored unicorns that enjoy consuming carrots or placing them deep in their anuses

This must be you, on any given work day.

One of your handicapped co-workers asks you for a favor, giving you the correct amount of money for the task, that involves you getting them a soft drink from the vending machine.

_Strongly Disagree to scream at them like a horrid banshee from the depths of hell
_Strongly Disagree to drool at the corner of your mouth but Strongly Agree that they should rise from their wheelchair.  Why? Because you have given them the power to become healed and heal the sick and impaired, themselves.  Your magic is just that strong.  Wow.
_Tickle their belly, instead.
_Strongly Agree to cut a fart.
_Strongly Agree that, sometimes, crazy people and their erratic behaviors just aren't worth putting up with, no matter how bad you want the money, the job or to get along with "your team" or your fellow species.

This is just a small sampling of my application questionnaire.  I wish you luck. You will be contacted, if you are to have an actual person to person meeting with me, with even more insipid questions asked, when I feel like responding to you.  Good day!

Nonconformists

"Whoso would be a man must be a nonconformist."- Ralph Waldo Emerson

"When people are free to do as they please, they usually imitate others."- Anonymous

In the dictionary, I found two main definitions for the word, "nonconformist."

1. One who does not conform to, or refuses to be bound by, accepted beliefs, customs, or practices.

2. A person who does not conform to generally accepted patterns of behaviour or thought.

I can go along with those interpretations of that word. There is also an older meaning to nonconformist. That is: A Protestant in England who is not a member of the Church of England.

Nowadays, when you hear the title of nonconformist, you usually think of the first two definitions. At least in the U.S. you do.

I found this interpretation of what it means to be a nonconformist on Urban Dictionary and I thought it fit me well enough. I've never really put it into words how I usually roll but this was pretty accurate:

It's not that you purposely go against the norms. It's that you fail to recognize the importance rules, structures and social norms and this naturally makes an above average level of uniqueness to you. Given the lack of this pressure to conform to sociality you're given much more freedom to think and act and do. Your acts, thoughts, and ideas may appear absurd to others. Nonconformist tend to either be leaders or loners and mavericks. They are often too new and innovative for their own times. What they hate most is bureaucracy, and way too often when given a position of power they will throwaway the normal routines and traditions of the office.

I consider myself to be a nonconformist because I've never allowed fads, trends, beliefs of others to influence me enough to where I'm set in this mind locking concrete that I will follow a certain line of thinking or anything else society dwells upon. Take celebrity worship or something equally as mindless or insipid, for example. Nonconformity, to me, is more of an attitude than a purposeful unwillingness to follow, without question, a trend, a person or organization of authority or a belief.

Some claim that it is rebelliousness for the sake of rebelliousness. Nope. Sorry, my closed minded, unenlightened monkey. The majority of society thinks that the nonconformist thinks it's something that the nonconformist can throw on, like an obnoxious shirt, just so they can piss the majority off. It's not like that. It's really not a conscious decision. In truth, it's really a matter of strength of mind, independence, free will and honesty. It's just being yourself, for better or worse.

Side effects of being someone that expresses nonconformity can, but not necessarily, include some nice traits such as:

Being creative, intensely independent and individualistic... or being innovative, and trailblazing. I'm not saying I'm any of these, of course. I'm probably as innovative as a speck of dirt on a rock that lays on the side of the road. Still, others that get their jollies by taking the opposite viewpoint on this subject will say that a nonconformist is destined to be a definite loner in society, maybe an immoral individual that is thinking up ways to destroy the world, molest a chickenhawk or some other nonsense. You can't see me but I'm pressing a big red imaginary buzzer at the moment- which represents that this assumption is not only stupid but it can be dangerous- especially dangerous to the innocent person who's victim-less personal choices in life are being thought of as a sinister threat to society. Mass hysteria, anyone? Holy shit!

In truth, nonconformists come in all shapes and sizes and colors and upbringings and class room teachings and so and so on. They conform only to themselves. They are the free thinkers of our human civilization, untouched by the persuasions of a monkey see-monkey do society. All of us could benefit from some of the traits of nonconformity. The bottom line is: Without change and fresh outlooks, it's a stagnate, fearful society we will continue to have, crushing the spirits of all of us.

There now. Glad I got that out of my system. Thanks and have a happy, dandy-as-heck kind of day. Smiles, everyone, smiles!

Auditions For The Circus

Created by Oscar The Disturbed, Chloe The Nympho and MasterHeathen

The circus tent was noisy inside with hopeful artists talking to each other and practicing their acts. Sitting at a large wooden desk on the furthest right hand side were two men, murmuring to each other, serious in their appearance. The owner of the circus was a large man with dark brown eyes with just a hint of red surrounding the pupils. The look of his face conveyed a wisdom about him. His name was Byron Asmodeus and he had owned Asmodeus' Astounding Circus for 20 odd years. His ringmaster, Gregorio, worked hard as a manager for the circus.

For the last hour, they had seen and judged two sets of performers and neither group made the cut.

Gregorio stared straight ahead and to Asmodeus, he announced the next group of artists to audition. "Next, we have The Blutarsky Brothers."

Asmodeus cleared his throat and asked, "What do they do?

Ringmaster Gregorio replied, "They are a family of midget clowns."

"I see," said Asmodeus, as he leaned back in his chair, clasping his hands together.

A little old woman, her face white and red with make up, was leading her little tribe of offspring up to the stage in front of their potential employer's desk. She had a grizzled look about her and the make up on her face could not hide the fact that she was well into her sixties. The mother of 7 children, who were between the ages of thirty to forty, tilted her head as she spoke.

"I am the mother of these seven clown midgets. We came to America from Russia, home of Vodka. All my children suffer from hydrocephalus and Down syndrome. They also have trouble with their feet from wearing the big clown shoes and as a result, they walk funny."

Asmodeus and Gregorio looked at all seven and noticed they were kind of wobbling back and forth, shifting uneasily from one foot to another.

The mother, Isa, continued, "They have the fungus grow under their toenails. Only Lamisil helps to keep their toenails on."

Asmodeus and Gregorio exchanged glances of bewilderment before the mother of the clown midgets added, "The father of these boys has passed on. If he were here today, he would show you his magnificent ability to shoot miniature bullets out of his fully erect penis."

The two men, glanced at each other and then looked at the mother, giving Isa the impression that they were impressed by this.

Isa said, "First, I will show you what my talent is and then each of my boys will show you what they can do for you."

Asmodeus said, "Whenever you're ready... begin."

The little old midget turned around, dropped her tiny pants, bent over, touched her toes and shot a steady stream of butt gravy across the stage. Quickly turning around, the mother of 7, briskly rubbed her chubby little thighs together and with the power of her vaginal muscles, sparks began to fly from her coochie until a eerie ball of fire erupted from her ancient pussy.

Amazed and impressed, Gregorio and Asmodeus applauded Isa's talent.

After her fire died out, Isa said, "This was how I killed the father of my boys. One night, after he beat me and called me names, I lay on top of the horrible man while his penis was soft. I acted like I was hot with sex for him. My husband was fooled by this. Then I make powerful sparks with my vagina and ignite a fire upon his penis as I wrap my short strong arms around him, not letting the bastard free himself. By the time I was done with him, he was like a burnt hog, crispy black and flesh falling from him."

Without pausing, Isa introduced one of her sons, "This is Nikolai. He lived with his uncle in Budapest for a year to learn all he could from him. My son, Nikolai, is the only clown who can juggle a chainsaw, bowling ball and box of condoms in the all of Russia, maybe in the entire world.

Nikolai took a spot in the middle of the stage, juggled the chainsaw, bowling ball and box of condoms without dropping any of the items. Asmodeus, nodded his head, impressed.

Isa introduced her next son, "This is Vladamir. He drives the clown car. He got his license in clown car driving by driving Smart cars for Mercedes Benz and being crash test dummy for them."

Vladamir demonstrated how well he drove the clown car and got out of it hurriedly, to waddle back up on the stage. The ringmaster clapped his hands and said, "You have great skill." Vladamir smiled, was obviously bashful, his face crinkling beneath the white make up. Vladamir suddenly celebrated being complimented by pulling his pants down and scratching his taint.

Isa, full of pride, introduced her next son, "And this is Ivan. He has taught his dog, Spot, how to ride on the back of his pony, Speck, for the Dog & Pony show."

Ivan had the pony and dog do the trick at his command. Asmodeus nodded approvingly and then said, "Very good. Next."

The mother of her offspring of clown midgets said, "This is Dragoff."

The two judges gave the little man a curious look.

Isa continued, "Dragoff was born with a permanent smile. A birth defect, as you Americans call it. He was diagnosed at the age of two. My son, Dragoff, because of this defect, does not require much clown make up. Before this audition, for you gentleman, he spent many years in midget tossing competitions."

Asmodeus put a hand up, pausing the old woman for a moment. The circus owner said, "And what talent can he demonstrate for us, today?"

Without missing a beat, Dragoff did a series of backward flips on the stage until landing in a barrel of thumbtacks and needles. He remained, motionless in the barrel, enduring what would be a painful experience for most people and kept his smile. Then Ivan came out, ran toward Dragoff and, suddenly, with a wooden chair, crashed it down on Dragoff's head. Splinters and wood fragments flew out in every direction. Dragoff smiled. Ivan shouted, "Ta Da!"

Asmodeus and Gregorio laughed, clapped and then, in unison, said, "Bravo."

After the stage was cleared, Isa said, "The next son performing for you handsome men is my eldest. His name is Jeepo. Jeepo has had an aneurysm that has affected what you may call his mo-mo-mo... motor skills."

Jeepo weeble wobbled his way onto the stage. To keep his balance, the stumpy clown flung his arms wildly, looking like a human pinwheel. This act gave the illusion of an abstract dance that had amused many crowds in the past. Soon, the midget clown's arms were all a blur. It was hypnotical. When he could no longer move his arms from the tiresome flailing, Jeepo spun around and dove off the stage, landing head first into the heavy desk, making a squishy sound with the softest part of his bulbous head.

Asmodeus and Ringmaster Gregorio abruptly stood up and gave Jeepo a standing ovation.

Isa, happy with the two men's reaction, introduced her next offspring.

"This is Luscious. Before she had, what you call "sex change operation", though it was not much an operation because my son, Ivan, is so handy with the knife. Her name was Chekov and she was a he. Before coming to perform for you today, Luscious worked at a tampon factory. Her job was quality control."

Without being prompted, Luscious, in her tiny tights, began doing a series of back flips, spins and twirls until finally ending her stunt by jumping straight up into the air and coming down onto the stage, doing the splits. Hurriedly, she got up, pulled down her tights and exposed her bald beaver. There was a tattoo of a snake on her cunt lip. The tongue of the snake hovered just above her clit. Like her mother, she, too, rubbed her thighs together until working her new vagina muscles up enough to produce sparks from her cunt. Soon flames flickered and all of Isa's sons came over and roasted marshmallows over her fiery pussy.

She, too, was given a standing ovation by the two delighted men behind the desk.

Isa waved Luscious off the stage and introduced her last son. A cross-eyed midget teetered from side and side, gradually making his way onto the stage. Asmodeus and Gregorio sat back down.

"My son, Trotsky."

Trotsky had troubles with his lungs because he was a heavy smoker. Pulling out deflated balloons from the pockets of his clown pants, Trotsky coughed and gagged before filling each long, slender balloon to it's fullest capacity. Without haste, Trotsky quickly formed the balloons into the shape of a male organ and a female organ. Luscious came back on stage and took the phallic balloon and slid it into her little midget slit. Shifting her thighs rigorously together, she created sparks and popped the penis shaped balloon with ease.

Ivan suddenly made another entrance onto the stage and bashed both of their heads in with a toaster. As his siblings fell to the floor, bleeding profusely, Ivan shouted, "Ta-Da!"

Asmodeus stood up and said, "All of you are hired. I welcome you, as my working performing artists to Asmodeus' Astounding Circus."

In unison, Isa and all the rest of her midget clown family cheered and whooped. Trotsky coughed up blood and smiled. It was a great day for The Blutarsky Brothers.