SixHertz House of Pain: New SHoP Feature: Mark-CounterMark

Greetings, Citizen SHoPpers!

We have a special for you tonight-- actually two of them, now that I think about it. The first is below: Local Area Blog/Internet Admin SixHertz himself has posted two consecutive posts! The last time that happened was...

... oh, on 20 April. That's not so bad, I guess. Also 12 April. 27 March. Well, in hindsight, that wasn't too much of a special.

But hey, that's not the point. New SHoP feature!!!

(Heh. Haven't seen an <hr> in a while, huh?)

Mark-CounterMark

Episode 1: Sex in the Chicago

Citizen SHoPpers,

A new segment for you tonight. This has been brewing in my head for the past few weeks, and I think you'll like it. While it seems that I'm just being lazy and remiss in my ~~SHoP Overlord duties~~ TioJaime-Level SHoP Overlord duties, it's actually quite a fuckload of work to format this and pull all of this shit together. So you better fucking like it.

Opinionated Truth-Warrior Mark Nicodemo needs no introduction. Just the clarification of the meaning of "OTW Mark". Easy shit, huh? Good. Let's press on. The new engineer in my office is also named Mark.

"BFD, Tio Jaime, you lazy fucker-- I don't care, why don't you just post more pics of Alessandra Ambrosio already?" Well, OK. I appreciate your enthusiasm and will take a page from my own playbook and end each episode of Mark-CounterMark with a hotchick.

Again, unimportant. The point is: Tio Jaime has two friends, both named Mark, both bona fide conservatives, one in chicago, one recently relocated from chicago. Neither of whom may be completely in-line with Tio Jaime's brand of South Park Republicanism, but willing to give it a shot at the very least.

In concocting this SHoP segment, I knew from the beginning that the two Marks would likely not differ very much from each other with the topics I would give them. Which is why I expanded the scope of Mark-CounterMark to include the apolitical.

Today's topic? Resolved: The singles scene in Chicago, IL sucks major butt for single, right-leaning men.

Dualing Marks!
Mark	CounterMark
Where to start? Usually, at the beginning. However, when talking about a non-metrosexual, conservative male trying to get dates in gritty, mean-spirited, left-wing Chicago, it's hard to find a starting point. So... let's start at "the end." In Chicago, a request for a second date was almost inevitably met with warm agreement, followed the next morning by a pious email dripping with condescension, usually beginning, "You're a nice guy, but..." The "but" almost always bashed me across the chops for being conservative/traditional/old-fashioned. This is p.c.-speak for "ignorant, insular, oppressive, mean-spirited putz." I was up-front with who I was; my web profile read, "conservative but not stuffy." Maybe the gals didn't read, but just looked at my picture (nah-- sophisticated modern women couldn't be that shallow. Could they?) A surprising number of them turned out to be from tiny rural towns; as a small-town Michigan boy, I thought I'd have a lot in common with them. Wrong! Having gone away to some liberal arts school, they were duly radicalized while studying marketing or business. All of them had traveled a bit, usually to Europe. Their previously-closed worlds thus opened, they began to fancy themselves great sophisticates, resulting in a dreary preachiness in the "you're a nice guy, but..." missives. My favorite was the leftie chickie who snottily informed me, "I'm too open-minded for you." Think about that. Or should I say, bend your mind around that utter contradiction. Another, who drank more than I do, thought she was being really cute when she wrote to me, "I'm afraid I'll corrupt you." Hee-hee; clever her! Ever been to Thailand or Korea and seen what goes on there? (I have, and didn't like it.) Hee-hee; I suspect it would shock you to the core of your conventional, small-town, if hard-drinkin', soul. Yet another was just plain crazy. She pretended to agree with me, when she apparently believed the exact opposite. The next morning, a patronizing email duly accused me of being a "very traditional guy who needs a very traditional girl." The remainder of the email discussed at some length the author's sophistication and open-mindedness, and my unworthiness to enjoy same, in a sickeningly self-congratulating tone. In retrospect, there was a sad, soul-numbing uniformity to these women. Late 20s to early 30s, mostly working in sales or marketing, the world would stop spinning without them; all purportedly worked 60+ hours a week, took MBA night classes, and partied hard with their girlfriends. The were terribly impressed with themselves, and were doing the guy a big favor fitting him into their schedule for a date. Scheduled to the last second, their sleepless lives had a college student mentality, a combination of wanting it all and being afraid of missing something. I made some close female friends through dating in Chicago. Yet women I saw romantically all had significant issues, whether of ego or psychology or left-wing zealotry. Chicago may be a great city, full of girls, but it's no place for a conservative boy to find a date.	On Friday night, we had the reheasal for little sister's wedding. It was at Old St. Patrick's Church near downtown Chicago. The exterior looked pretty rough, but it is150 years old! The Church has an amazing history, having survived the Chicago fire, and several attempts at knocking it down. The interior, however, was really stunning. Pastel colors, lifelike statues, Celtic design all on the walls and behind the altar, incredible stained glass. Really amazing. My sister must have picked the best church in the state. I had the honor of escorting my mom down the aisle; my dad, of course, walked my sister. I later read the first reading from the Book of Genesis. (Not my favorite book, but no matter. I prefer Leviticus, which discusses discharges. Anyway.) I guess I did a good job; several people complimented me on it. Odd that I was an altar boy for 6 years, and have read at 3 different funerals since I was 20, but THIS TIME, I was very nervous. So the ceremony went great; the priest was friendly; not a single problem. Thank God. The reception was fun. Got to see a bunch of relatives I haven't seen in a long time. I am not much for socializing like a butterfly, but at these events, you have to be "available" to everyone, or risk people assuming that there is something wrong with you. (This culture is pretty convinced that if you just want to be ALONE for a while that you're either mentally ill or plotting a massacre.) Still, I think I did a good job. At the end of dinner, but before the 200 db music began pounding in my ear, my sister arranged a slide show that the photographers presented: pictures of my sister and her fiance as children, and then some video clips from earlier in the day! (I guess they work fast.) Amazing how different we were back then, as children, and how much we change after a few months, let alone a few years. Where did that time go? Dancer, I am not, so I spent more time chit chatting with people. In order to do this, a bottle of beer is required in hand, so I drank a couple of Heinekens that night. Because beer tends to go right to the bladder, I made frequent trips to the toilet. After I exited the bathroom on my last trip there for the night, I was speaking to my new brother-in-law, who was soon dragged back into the party. I was soon approached by my sister's old room mate back from the east coast. (My sister went to Providence College where she met most of her bridesmaids.) Anyway, this person seemed drunk to me, but I was not sure. She was a stranger to me, but was unusually friendly, and suggested that we all "go out" later. Seemed like she just wanted to be around me, but maybe I misinterpreted. We walked down to the lobby and there's a little bar there. On the way down, she told me that she has a fiance`. Strike 1. She then offers to buys me a drink at the bar. I offer to pay, but she refused. I figured I should be a sport and go along with it. Atleast I offered to pay. She starts again another convo about her fiance, who is from Ireland, and is here illegally. Strike 2. She proceeds to talk and talk in every cliche and slogan and half truth you can imagine: "jobs Americans won't do," and "this bullshit war," and how we have to "include" illegals who are "already here," and how we will be ruining our country if we do anything but, and how "hard working" they are, etc. I lost count at how many times I wanted to interrupt. I had a retort to every single thing she had to say, but I could barely breathe or get a word in edgewise. She kept talking, and wouldn't let me speak. I simply gave up and proceeded to watch the Cubs on the flat screen TV above the bottles of booze. I tried my best not to take her drunken babbling personally, but the kick in the ass was when she said that a bill offered by Representative James Sensenbrenner (Republican), w hich does not offer any kind of amnesty, is "racist." At this point, she was aware that I was supportive of this bill; (I guess I am "racist" too?) I shifted my weight away from her, and laughed mockingly. At this point, I realized my presence with her was pointless. I suspected I already knew what this person was about: drunk as hell, eyes glassy and red. She looked like she would faint at any moment. Still, she stared at me intently, like she'd jump me if she could. I thought, You come here on a plane to be with my sister at her wedding. You don't have enough class to stay sober for the night surrounded by people you do not know, and then you practically insult me -- a stranger -- in the 20 minutes that we were chatting? I lost all interested in this person, and found her to have no decorum or tact. No point extending the misery. I took out my wallet and asked her how much the Heineken was that she bought me. She shook her head and refused. I took out 4 singles and dropped them near her bottle, took my bottle, smiled and told her to have a good night. She made no attempt to stop m e or apologize. She said, "See ya" and I walked to the elevators. I later asked my sister about this person, just to see if this is normal behavior for this asshole. Apparently, she drinks alot, and can be confrontational. She has also e-mailed my sister about illegal immigration shit on the ASS_umption that my sister actually agreeswith her on it! My sister, who wanted this buffoon to come to the wedding, held her tongue, and has not replied to any of her e-mails. Not yet anyway. I wouldn't let it ruin my night, but I felt attacked. She was undignified and tactless -- at my sister's wedding. I didn't care that we disagreed on the topic of illegals. She can think whatever she wants. That was not the point. The point was, she did not know me, or, rather, she knew I was the brother of her former roommate, and was dragging me into a controversial topic without knowing a thing about me, and then making assumptions about me to my face, and not letting me s peak. Funny how people like her unjustly label conservatives as "intolerant;" I found some comfort knowing that I would never have done the same to anyone else. So much for tolerance.

Dualing Marks!

Mark

CounterMark

Where to start? Usually, at the beginning. However, when talking about a non-metrosexual, conservative male trying to get dates in gritty, mean-spirited, left-wing Chicago, it's hard to find a starting point. So... let's start at "the end."

In Chicago, a request for a second date was almost inevitably met with warm agreement, followed the next morning by a pious email dripping with condescension, usually beginning, "You're a nice guy, but..." The "but" almost always bashed me across the chops for being conservative/traditional/old-fashioned. This is p.c.-speak for "ignorant, insular, oppressive, mean-spirited putz."

I was up-front with who I was; my web profile read, "conservative but not stuffy." Maybe the gals didn't read, but just looked at my picture (nah-- sophisticated modern women couldn't be that shallow. Could they?) A surprising number of them turned out to be from tiny rural towns; as a small-town Michigan boy, I thought I'd have a lot in common with them. Wrong!

Having gone away to some liberal arts school, they were duly radicalized while studying marketing or business. All of them had traveled a bit, usually to Europe. Their previously-closed worlds thus opened, they began to fancy themselves great sophisticates, resulting in a dreary preachiness in the "you're a nice guy, but..." missives.

My favorite was the leftie chickie who snottily informed me, "I'm too open-minded for you." Think about that. Or should I say, bend your mind around that utter contradiction.

Another, who drank more than I do, thought she was being really cute when she wrote to me, "I'm afraid I'll corrupt you." Hee-hee; clever her! Ever been to Thailand or Korea and seen what goes on there? (I have, and didn't like it.) Hee-hee; I suspect it would shock you to the core of your conventional, small-town, if hard-drinkin', soul.

Yet another was just plain crazy. She pretended to agree with me, when she apparently believed the exact opposite. The next morning, a patronizing email duly accused me of being a "very traditional guy who needs a very traditional girl." The remainder of the email discussed at some length the author's sophistication and open-mindedness, and my unworthiness to enjoy same, in a sickeningly self-congratulating tone.

In retrospect, there was a sad, soul-numbing uniformity to these women. Late 20s to early 30s, mostly working in sales or marketing, the world would stop spinning without them; all purportedly worked 60+ hours a week, took MBA night classes, and partied hard with their girlfriends. The were terribly impressed with themselves, and were doing the guy a big favor fitting him into their schedule for a date. Scheduled to the last second, their sleepless lives had a college student mentality, a combination of wanting it all and being afraid of missing something.

I made some close female friends through dating in Chicago. Yet women I saw romantically all had significant issues, whether of ego or psychology or left-wing zealotry. Chicago may be a great city, full of girls, but it's no place for a conservative boy to find a date.

On Friday night, we had the reheasal for little sister's wedding. It was at Old St. Patrick's Church near downtown Chicago. The exterior looked pretty rough, but it is150 years old! The Church has an amazing history, having survived the Chicago fire, and several attempts at knocking it down. The interior, however, was really stunning. Pastel colors, lifelike statues, Celtic design all on the walls and behind the altar, incredible stained glass. Really amazing. My sister must have picked the best church in the state.

I had the honor of escorting my mom down the aisle; my dad, of course, walked my sister. I later read the first reading from the Book of Genesis. (Not my favorite book, but no matter. I prefer Leviticus, which discusses discharges. Anyway.) I guess I did a good job; several people complimented me on it. Odd that I was an altar boy for 6 years, and have read at 3 different funerals since I was 20, but THIS TIME, I was very nervous.

So the ceremony went great; the priest was friendly; not a single problem. Thank God.

The reception was fun. Got to see a bunch of relatives I haven't seen in a long time. I am not much for socializing like a butterfly, but at these events, you have to be "available" to everyone, or risk people assuming that there is something wrong with you. (This culture is pretty convinced that if you just want to be ALONE for a while that you're either mentally ill or plotting a massacre.) Still, I think I did a good job.

At the end of dinner, but before the 200 db music began pounding in my ear, my sister arranged a slide show that the photographers presented: pictures of my sister and her fiance as children, and then some video clips from earlier in the day! (I guess they work fast.) Amazing how different we were back then, as children, and how much we change after a few months, let alone a few years. Where did that time go?

Dancer, I am not, so I spent more time chit chatting with people. In order to do this, a bottle of beer is required in hand, so I drank a couple of Heinekens that night. Because beer tends to go right to the bladder, I made frequent trips to the toilet. After I exited the bathroom on my last trip there for the night, I was speaking to my new brother-in-law, who was soon dragged back into the party. I was soon approached by my sister's old room mate back from the east coast. (My sister went to Providence College where she met most of her bridesmaids.) Anyway, this person seemed drunk to me, but I was not sure. She was a stranger to me, but was unusually friendly, and suggested that we all "go out" later. Seemed like she just wanted to be around me, but maybe I misinterpreted.

We walked down to the lobby and there's a little bar there. On the way down, she told me that she has a fiance`. Strike 1. She then offers to buys me a drink at the bar. I offer to pay, but she refused. I figured I should be a sport and go along with it. Atleast I offered to pay. She starts again another convo about her fiance, who is from Ireland, and is here illegally. Strike 2. She proceeds to talk and talk in every cliche and slogan and half truth you can imagine: "jobs Americans won't do," and "this bullshit war," and how we have to "include" illegals who are "already here," and how we will be ruining our country if we do anything but, and how "hard working" they are, etc. I lost count at how many times I wanted to interrupt. I had a retort to every single thing she had to say, but I could barely breathe or get a word in edgewise. She kept talking, and wouldn't let me speak. I simply gave up and proceeded to watch the Cubs on the flat screen TV above the bottles of booze. I tried my best not to take her drunken babbling personally, but the kick in the ass was when she said that a bill offered by Representative James Sensenbrenner (Republican), w hich does not offer any kind of amnesty, is "racist." At this point, she was aware that I was supportive of this bill; (I guess I am "racist" too?)

I shifted my weight away from her, and laughed mockingly. At this point, I realized my presence with her was pointless. I suspected I already knew what this person was about: drunk as hell, eyes glassy and red. She looked like she would faint at any moment. Still, she stared at me intently, like she'd jump me if she could. I thought, You come here on a plane to be with my sister at her wedding. You don't have enough class to stay sober for the night surrounded by people you do not know, and then you practically insult me -- a stranger -- in the 20 minutes that we were chatting?

I lost all interested in this person, and found her to have no decorum or tact. No point extending the misery. I took out my wallet and asked her how much the Heineken was that she bought me. She shook her head and refused. I took out 4 singles and dropped them near her bottle, took my bottle, smiled and told her to have a good night. She made no attempt to stop m e or apologize. She said, "See ya" and I walked to the elevators.

I later asked my sister about this person, just to see if this is normal behavior for this asshole. Apparently, she drinks alot, and can be confrontational. She has also e-mailed my sister about illegal immigration shit on the ASS_umption that my sister actually agreeswith her on it! My sister, who wanted this buffoon to come to the wedding, held her tongue, and has not replied to any of her e-mails. Not yet anyway.

I wouldn't let it ruin my night, but I felt attacked. She was undignified and tactless -- at my sister's wedding. I didn't care that we disagreed on the topic of illegals. She can think whatever she wants. That was not the point. The point was, she did not know me, or, rather, she knew I was the brother of her former roommate, and was dragging me into a controversial topic without knowing a thing about me, and then making assumptions about me to my face, and not letting me s peak. Funny how people like her unjustly label conservatives as "intolerant;" I found some comfort knowing that *I* would never have done the same to anyone else. So much for tolerance.

No, I didn't know how to format the table either. That's the best I could figure out.

Sounds kinda bleak there in Chicago-land. I'm not sure who I should pity more, OTW Mark who is still in the area, or Engineer Mark who left there to come to live in the Blue State Frontier, about half an hour away from Fort Tio Jaime, your Red State Outpost.

In any case, I hope that this inaugural installment of Mark-CounterMark enlightened you to one viewpoint and one viewpoint only. You want equal time? You ain't gonna find it on the SHoP.

Jihad Jimmy, Minister of War Crimes and Chief Defender of the Faith

ps- shit, almost forgot!

<hotchick>

click for different sizes
</hotchick>

<whorecity population="SixHertz">
You fucker. I've been posting up my blingo referral URL since your goddam birthday LAST YEAR and now you have a banner up to steal the good Citizen SHoPpers away? Fuck that! That shit is bananas, B-A-N-A-N-A-S.