High Planes Blogger

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I saw a man the other day wearing Blue Jeans, pointed boots, a vest and a cowboy hat. His boots had a turquoise inlay that matched his vest. He wore mirrored sunglasses and had a goatee. My first thought was: Did this man actually get dressed, look at a mirror, evaluate his appearance, and say, “Oh yah. That’s what I’m talkin about”. Even Wyatt Earp could not have rocked this outfit. A time later I started dwelling on the “The Old West” Continue reading

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I Am Tom Nardone | How May I Help You?

tom nardone

I am Tom Nardone. In spite of what many people believe, I do not know everything. I know, I know, but it’s true. There are many things, I don’t know. At my job, I am asked over a hundred questions a day. Most of the time, I know the answers but when I don’t, I have specific people that I go to for the answer. I think of these people as my “go-to-guys”. I have been at my job for 14 years, so I am a go-to-guy when others run into difficulty. I am all about the help. Continue reading

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This is Not a Shitty Sports Story

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There was a time when I used to watch football. I stopped watching for a host of reasons. Mainly it was the absolute never-ending whining and crying about money. I have outlined some changes that will make this game far less annoying to us all. I think that if these plans are implemented, It might even save this game from itself.

Continue reading

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The Wolves Are At the Gate!!

by Tom Nardone

by Tom Nardone

My son, Brett is 18 now and while he is becoming a fine young man there is one thing I seem to be having trouble making him understand; locking the damn door. I told him I could give a damn about his car, but my house must be locked. I am ADD and I forget many things. I don’t ever forget to lock up my house. Continue reading

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Brody Bricker Vol IV. | Late Night Swimming!!

The Adventures of: Brody Bricker

VOL. IV

Late Night Swimming


Brody Bricker was one of my best friends growing up. He lived to cause trouble. He would do anything to get a reaction out of someone. He had absolutely no conscience, and the only time I ever saw him smile, was after causing any kind of mayhem.

I have changed his name, the names of his victims, and the names of any businesses that might have suffered at the expense of his entertainment.

These are his stories

Ladies and Gentlemen, Brody Bricker Continue reading

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Attention Assholes, Please Don’t Masquerade As Decent People.

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by Tom Nardone

This was a memorable Christmas eve for one asshole

Sometimes, around the holidays, you will hear people give a hollow showing of empathy towards those of us poor downtrodden assholes who are not fortunate enough to be off for the holidays. I know and appreciate that there are those who truly do feel for all of us, and think it a poor decision that we are made to work. There are also those that only pretend to feel that way. They cast there horseshit out to represent themselves so that the world will believe they give a shit. We have a word for these people. That word is “Asshole”. I am Tom Nardone, and I have taken on the burden to educate these people.

This past Christmas Eve, I was at the local Publix, getting some things that my wife said we could not do without. I gathered my things and then proceeded to the checkout line. There was a lady in front of me. She was buying several bottles of wine, some beer, a couple of those lunch meat platters, and a bunch of other things you would buy when you have a lot of company over. She seemed to be a very well off or like some lady who had never worked a day in her life. While we were in line I noticed the checkout guy had a wedding ring. I remember thinking “man he’s probably got a family that would rather have him at home.” I had just gotten off work so I guess that is how I justified my presence there.

Someone left and then it was the rich lady’s turn to load her items on the conveyer.  When she finished loading, she looked at this young man and said, in a very southern accent “I swear, I just cannot believe that they make you people come in and work today of all days.”

WHAT?

*****CUE DRAMATIC MUSIC*****

I am Tom Nardone. A decision to, do the right thing or to do nothing, has been placed before me. Should I let this person wander the earth being so consumed by her empty life that she is completely unaware of the fact that words have meaning? Can I in good conscience let her think that this kind of shit is acceptable to the good people of this country? Could I just stand there and let this poor bastard who needs his job too much to risk it by explaining shit to this idiot?  That would be No No and No. I will always answer a call for help because I have to wake up tomorrow and live with my decision. I am Tom Nardone and it is time to put the “AWE” in AWESOME.

*****CUE HEROIC MUSIC*****publix-super

I said to this lady, in a very calm and unthreatening tone of voice,

“Well ma’am, the reason they are open today is because people like you, are entertaining a bunch of winos who care more about guzzling down their white zinfandel, and getting blitzed than they do about a working man who is away from his family on Christmas Eve.” She said “Excuse me sir!!” I said “Yes Ma’am, you see, your presence in here today is creating a market, and an incentive for this store to be open. That is why you are able to come in here and buy more liquor to help your family get tanked on this most blessed day.” She said” My friends are not winos and who are you to talk to me like that. You are right behind me shopping today just like I am.” I said “Yes, but the difference is that I am not suppressing my guilt by offering a hollow apology to someone just because I believe they lack the intelligence to see through it. Do you really think this guy believes you think it is wrong for him to work today when you are in here having he ring you up?” She said “you better leave me alone!”

I did not say another word.

I don’t normally get involved in arguments with perfect strangers, particularly women. I afford them the highest respect. I was motivated to do it, because the poor bastard at the checkout register wanted to do it but couldn’t. When she left, the people behind me started laughing. The register guy was laughing, and of course so was I. I know I made what could have been a pretty simple event for this lady, turn into a very difficult one. I was not concerned about the inconvenience, or problems I gave this moron. I focused on all the laughs I gave a checkout guy who had to work on Christmas Eve. I hope when he got home and his wife asked him. ”Hey honey, how work was today?” I hope he said to her “Babe I missed you and the kids, but it was worth it. This this lady in my line said……”

The point is this. In the United States of America, Canada, England, and many other fine countries, it is your right to be an asshole. There are no asshole laws that I am aware of. This was not about “The Law” this was about right and wrong. Our forefathers died fighting for your right to be an asshole. That is your right. You should not be at all ashamed of it. Embrace that freedom, for it has been bestowed upon you.

I am not saying that it is right or wrong to shop on a holiday. If you are the person who would go all day without something you needed because it is a holiday, and you don’t want to be the one who is creating a marketplace for stores to stay open, then great. You are truly a person that lives what you believe. If you are a person who doesn’t care about anything except yourself, or whether a store is open or not, regardless of the day, then that is great too.

If you are going to be an asshole, then be one, but please don’t masquerade as a person who genuinely gives a shit. No one believes you when you empathize with them for their discomfort, while you are the one standing behind them drilling them in the ass.

I am Tom Nardone, and you are welcome.

If you would like to be notified of future posts, You can follow me on facebook here.

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If you would like to be notified via email, then go to the top of this page and click the button that says “BE AWESOME”

IT WILL FEEL GREAT!!!

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WE ARE ALL SCREWED!!!!!

ass fisterMost of us have jobs. We are expected to go in and work five days a week for eight hours and perform our duties to whatever degree of proficiency that is required by our employer. We have to be on time. For some us, there is an expectation that we be good at what we do.

If you are a brick layer you are expected to lay all the bricks straight, and level, and to use the proper amount of mortar to ensure that what you are building stays built. If you are a teacher then you are expected to present information to your students, and ensure that there is a reasonable level of retention among them.

This is the type of arrangement most of us have with our employers. Failure to achieve these things can result in counseling, reprimands or even termination. That is simply the world we live in.

This may sound harsh to some of my younger readers, believe me I understand. I do however have some good news for you people. I have an alternative if these kinds of standards seem a little demanding, or challenging to you, and if you so choose, you can avoid all of this. I am going to tell you about a career where you can fall ass backwards into piles of cash for simply playing a guessing game, a profession where you are afforded the highest respect, regardless of your knowledge level. It is a career where you have no accountability, and no performance expectations. When people find out what you do they will believe every fucking word you say. If this sounds like what you are looking for than maybe you should be a “Doctor”.

As you read this ask yourself if you have ever been on either end of this conversation.

”Hey, Bob, how did it go at your doctor’s appointment this afternoon?”

“Well they think it is a ….”

Or

“Well they aren’t sure what is wrong with me, so they’re put me on….. “

Most of you know this already, but let me tell you what this actually means. Let’s replay that conversation but we will remove all the bullshit.

”Hey, Bob, how did it go at your doctor’s appointment this afternoon?”

“Well the Doctor said to me Bob I don’t know what the hell is wrong with you”

 Doctors have found what I have to admit, are brilliant new ways to say “I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with you.” We have all heard this before. They will say “I think you need to see a specialist”. You see, they did not even have to admit that they don’t know what is wrong with you, while at the same time, they are helping out another one of their doctor buddies by sending some business their way. This happens in my experience about fifty percent of the time, but guess what happens 100% of the time. I’m sure you already know. Yes. That is correct. You pay your bill or give them your insurance information. Either way, they get paid. You get a little lighter in your wallet, and they go to the bank having drilled another sick bastard squarely in the ass.

Doctors have also gotten around the whole issue of accountability. I have been to the doctor several times, where they do a bunch of preliminary tests; blood pressure, reflexes, heartbeat, and so on. Then I wait twenty minutes in silence (while the important data is carefully gone over, studied and scrutinized). Then he comes in and determines I have X and he is prescribing Y. I pay the bill and leave. Well that doesn’t work either, or it makes me worse. So what do I do? Yes, you are right again. I go back to the doctor to give him another chance to guess what is wrong with me. (This is called repeat business), because I will be paying for another visit. The other thing is that with you being passed around from doctor to doctor, and going from this med to that med. They have created ambiguity. This means that one doctor can just blame the other one, and neither one of them can be held accountable for anything. It is a thing of beauty.

Put yourself in this scenario and tell me if you think this is how you might behave.

Your car is acting up. So you take it down to your local repair shop and tell them what the symptoms are.  They listen while writing things down on a clip board. They tell you to give them a couple of hours. You leave and come back two hours later. They say “we think it needs new spark plugs, so we put new ones in. That will be $135.00.” You drive the car for a day or two and it still isn’t running right. So you take it back to them to give them another try. They then decide it could be the air filter was clogged so they replace it and charge you another $135.00. Well, that didn’t work so you bring it back again, and they run some more tests and tell you that you need to go to the shop down the road, and of course, charge you another $135.00. Would you raise hell or would you just bend over and take it up the tail pipe. Of course you wouldn’t take that. You would refuse to pay and never go back. Fortunately you auto insurance does not tell you where you can or can’t take your car.

That is not however, an option for you with the respected member of the medical industry. This is a shrewd bunch. They have the money so they have the lawyers. You can’t just refuse to pay your medical bills. Oh no. Whether they earned their money or not you are going to pay. You can be a sick, in pain, broken, coughing, shaking, wobbling, sore, wishing you were dead son of a bitch, but you are still going to pay your doctor bills, or else the government will come in and take away your income tax refund. Why don’t they do this for all of your debtors? Why is it just the doctors? I guess someone has to pay back that Ivy League student loan. It might just as well be you.

What is the solution? Sadly this time I just don’t know. We are screwed. Sometimes we lose and this is one of those times. All I can say is hey, I am in this with you, and dont think that you are the only one that will be bleeding from the asshole.

So kids I hope I have helped those of you underachievers who want all the money and none of the responsibilities that go along with it. There is plenty of room for all of you. Those of you who aspire to perform below the status quo, the medical industry requires following three things.

  1. years college (Pre-Med)    4
  2. years medical School        4
  3. Integrity                             0

My hope is that you will shoot higher than this and work at a gas station.

I am Tom Nardone and you are welcome.

If you would like to be notified, and have quicker access, follow me on facebook here.

If you would like to be notified via email, then go to the top of this page and click the button that says “BE AWESOME”

IT WILL FEEL GREAT!!!

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The Bodily Function Police

Tom Nardone

People tell me that I sometimes look unhappy or angry about something. They think that I’m not happy. There seems to be no shortage of people in this world that feel the need to alter my mood and/or my actions

I don’t mind if one of my friends say “Hey Tom what’s wrong?”, or “Hey Tom are you alright?” I understand that they love me, and they want to see me happy. What I do mind is when people, friend or otherwise, simply tell me; “Smile!”, “cheer up!”, “it’s not that bad.”, or “how come you never smile?” That is what really gives me the red ass

This girl started at work a while back. She is a complete ditz that has been trading on her looks all her life. All of the guys at work are all (gaga) for her. I, on the other hand, am not. I do not give a shit what she looks like. I have nothing but contempt for such people. For days every time I would walk by her, she would tell me to smile, and for days I just let it go.

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She made the mistake of telling me, in her ditzy sweet voice, to smile one time too many. I felt it was time for this bullshit conversation to come to a conclusion.

Officer Ditz; Hey, why don’t you ever smile?”

Tom Nardone; This morning, as I was getting ready for work, I looked out the window, and watched my son, who was waiting for the school bus, pick up a stray puppy by it’s neck and stare into its’ eyes as he squeezed the life from it. So is it OK with you if I don’t smile today?”

Would you like to know what she said? She said the same thing you would say. NOTHING!! That is the only thing anyone says when told a story like that. This was beautiful. She looked at me and nodded her head almost violently, as if she hoped I was finished talking to her. She did not smile herself for the rest of the day.

I was pleased to see that the message got to her. My son did not really do this, but that doesn’t matter. I solved both of our problems. I don’t have to listen to any more of her bullshit, and she will definitely think twice before ever telling me to alter my facial expressions for the rest of our time together. I will be surprised if I ever have to listen to her speak to me again about anything.

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I used to have a job where I went in at 4am. One thing that everyone does who gets up that early in the morning is yawn. I don’t know why we yawn. It is just what we do. It is in no way offensive it is not rude. A yawn is one of the few bodily functions that have absolutely no enemies. Everybody loves a good yawn. That is, everyone except this one particular asshole. Just about every damned, morning this redneck, inbred, hillbilly, son of a bitch, would catch me in the act of one of my early morning yawns. He would always say “It’s too early to start that shit”

What the fuck does that even mean? I knew that I would have to help this man too. I was convinced that it was not ever going to end, and I knew that I was unwilling to stop yawning. I felt it was my duty as a caring coworker to help him to stop this douchebaggery that he was hopelessly a prisoner to. This was my solution.

Officer Hillbilly; It’s too early to start that shit”

Tom Nardone; Hey listen I am sorry about the random yawns every morning. It is obvious that you care about me, and you want to be involved with my bodily functions. I would like to extend you an invitation to join me this afternoon for one that I think you will really enjoy. I really think today is the best day for you to see this one, since I ate at El Sombreros last night and ordered the sampler platter. If you are free after lunch, please meet me in the men’s room I usually prefer stall #4. I think this is something you won’t want to miss.

He wasn’t pleased and he did decline my invitation. He never really spoke much to me after that, which to my mind was a huge win win. I wasn’t quite satisfied though. I would come in early and if I did not feel a yawn coming, then I would fake one. You should have seen the confusion on that dumb son of a bitches face.

tom-nardone-5I don’t think it is too much to ask that I be allowed to smile when I am happy, or yawn when I am tired. I will not tolerate assholes who wish to fuck with this. Just so we are clear if you tell me to smile, then yes, that alone, makes you an asshole.

You owe these people shit. Don’t waste your time explaining yourself to them. As fun as it might be, you don’t have to give them an elaborate explanation, like I did. There are other ways to help them. Sometimes just a short “Fuck You” is all it takes to get them on the proper path.

My body is my playground. All the toys and their functions are owned and operated by me, and any other person I grant access to. I decide what the rules are and I decide what toys are available to what person. I share them when, and if I feel like it. If you have a problem with this then you can to your playground.

If, while watching Spartacus, or Game of Thrones, there should be a sex scene and I feel the need to pause the show to take care of a sudden need, then I will do so. Only one person votes and that is me. I always win.

When I conclude my bathroom business, and it is time to do the paper work; I and I alone will make the decision to wipe from front to back or from back to front. It is my ass. It is my choice.

If while I am working outside on a hot July Day, and my ass begins to itch, then fell free to turn your head if you don’t want to watch the show, but this itch is going away right now.tom-nardone-1

I think that is enough examples

It is as if their lives are so empty inside that they must see me smile to fill some void. I am sorry if they have some hidden desire to live vicariously through me. They should go and live an abundant life where all they can seem to do is walk around and smile at every one they see, and when they get that figured out, maybe they will be in a better frame of mind to counsel the rest of the world with our facial expression problems.

These people have a sickness. They have an ailment and I have the cure. It is the only thing that I am aware of that will cures this disease every time it is administered. That is a dose of Tom Nardone. It’s the only thing I carry in my bag.

If I am not smiling, then maybe I am upset. If you are a friend of mine, then I don’t mind you trying to help me or inquire as to what you can do for me. I appreciate that kind of interaction. Sometimes knowing that someone cares is enough. Knowing that you have a friend who is there for you; can make the problem seem like a more fixable circumstance.

No one that gives a shit about you will tell you to be happy. People who do this, are every bit as much an asshole as someone who would fart in a parked car with the windows up.

I am Tom Nardone, and you are welcome.
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THE ULTIMATE HOME IMPROVEMENT

Tom Nardone

by Tom Nardone

Your first house; most of us remember the day we saw it. They day we sat in the lawyer’s office closing. We remember the day we first arrived, and for the first time pulled into our own driveway. This was what we worked for. It was another one of life’s milestones that we that we had reached. We thought about how beautiful we would make it. We looked past every imperfection, seeing them only as opportunities to make it better. We were so, careful as we moved in. “Don’t scuff the walls” or “Oh that goes here” we got everything just perfect, but shortly after the magic, we met the true identity of our home.

He was a monster and he required much of us. We were now his slaves for as long as we would own this prison.. This house that seduced us, and lured us in, with the hope of freedom, to live in a home of our own, was actually preparing our limbs to wear the shackles of life’s most concentrated, and pure forms of bullshit; “Home Ownership”.

YOUR HOUSE IS YOUR MASTER

Home improvements and repairs can make you feel you don’t own the house. The house owns you. You may not understand this yet, if you are in a new home owner, but you will. Yes! That house owns your ass, and it will eventually feel the need to establish its’ dominance over you. It will treat you like a nineteen dollar used blow up doll bought at a garage sale. Oh yes, you will feel its sting.

Your house is in cahoots with the government, the banks, the contractors, the insurance companies, and the police.

Your House is your master, and your master is at all times required to feel good. There is no negotiating this. Your master hates you, and the more you try to love it the more it will reveal its’ hatred for you. You decide one day, you want to install a new toilet. That is typical behavior for a good and obedient slave. Your intentions are good but when you begin to remove the toilet you realize that there was a leak where the toilet once was. So being a good sport you pull up the flooring only to discover that the sub-floor is rotting. You look up to the ceiling and your master says

“HA  HA  HA  that’s right slave. Make me new again. You will rue this day that ever tried to make your life more comfortable HA  HA  HA ”

You tried to serve you master, and he rewarded you by drilling you right in your fucking ass. The hardest thing to digest is the feeling that you walked in there and bent over for it.

Perhaps your master is bored one day and decides that it would like a brand new drainage system. Without warning

The Home Depot

your houses just clinches and backs up your plumbing. Or maybe it just busts the pipes and takes a shit in your crawl space.  It knows you know nothing of how to address this problem. So you drive to the local Home Depot, and hopefully talk with a kick-ass human being who knows his shit. Tom Nardone will explain to you exactly what you need, and what to do. Well your house is not worried because it knows that you will be working in the crawl space.

Your master uses the crawl space to indiscriminately allow all the fucking hooligans of nature to bed down, and have sex and multiply at will. Your crawl space is in fact your homes anus, and it welcomes your attention there like the lonely sadist deviate that it is. You may in fact get this problem fixed but you will not relax for a moment. The fear of snakes, and spiders alone drain you of any enthusiasm you might have bullshitted yourself into having. You will take the smell with you into your home. It is lose lose.

Or maybe one day when you get home from working third shift, and go home to bed, you will wake up two hours later sweating your ass off.  You get up to adjust the AC, only to discover that is 85º. Your master just said

“ah ah ah get your ass out of bed, and fix my cooling system.”

You will just do it. Your house is well aware you will not be able to put up with the heat. Your day is now spent on the phone, in the attic, or outside. Even if you know how to fix it, your house has a deal with the AC people and the government where you cannot by the Freon or the parts for this unit without a license. That’s right drilled in the ass again.

YOU WILL FINANCE YOUR DISAPPOINTMENTS

Well ok you have been busy. You have worked hard and now it is all done. Your house has caused you to make so many improvements, that you are now happy again. You might even remark to your spouse upon their completion and say “Gosh honey, look at our wonderful home that we have built”; followed by a warm hug, and a smile.

All of a sudden the doorbell rings. You walk to the door thinking “who could that be?” You open the door and it is the tax assessor. It seems while you were improving your home the real estate market was kicking ass. You were making your home and your yard look amazing and now the value of your home has gone up. Yes all the money you spent has actually resulted in you paying more money for your home in taxes. I wish I could tell you that it ends there but it doesn’t. You now need more insurance and of course those rates have gone up too. Your home sensed your happiness, and therefore had to intercede.

Weeks later the dishwasher leaks into the house and destroys your hardwood floors. This time it is three thousand dollars damage. Well shit! You don’t have that much, so you decide to use your homeowners insurance that you have been paying on for years.

They come out and inspect and two days later, they inform you that you did not elect for the water damage add-on that nobody mentioned. Sorry, but you are not covered so they are not giving you shit. However, just for making a claim that they didn’t even pay, they are well within their rights to raise your rates, They do this because now they know you consider your policy as a means to actually protect yourself. Your master is a student of the game.

If you own something then, you are responsible for it. I think we all know that the secret to happiness in life is less responsibility.

If you do own a home, hopefully your master has not rendered you helpless with no escape. If your master has crippled you to a point that you have no viable options, then there is but one path to freedom.

Currently I would love to not be tied to my house. If I were somehow certain that no one would ever find out about it, I would only then take the following actions.

I would gather up all the pictures, computers, TV ’s, and clothes, and take them to a friend’s house far away.

Then I would come back one quiet Sunday evening while the family was away on a vacation. I would climb up on the roof and cut a hole in it. As I was taking a leak into the hole I would shout down to my master, and say:

tomfire “Well…. who is laughing now you son of a bitch? I have called you master for the last time. Do you see what I am holding in my other hand? This is the last thing I will ever give you for the rest of your soon to be over reign of terror. This is a Molotov Cocktail, and I will be serving you shortly. After you are burnt to the ground;I will come home, act surprised, and maybe even try to shed a tear for the nice firemen and policemen who will have failed to save you. I will cash the check that those motherfuckers at Nationwide denied me, and after you are reduced to nothing but ashes. I am coming back and I am going to burn your fucking ashes. I will have two hundred thousand dollars in my pocket and I will own the land where you once stood. The only thing it will cost me, is your life. I am going to curse the smoke that rises from your burning corpes, and if I see anybody here trying to buy parts for salvage I will destroy them right in front of their eyes. I will make damn sure they burn and find you in Hell. YOU HAVE DRILLED YOUR LAST ASS! HA   HA  HA  HA  HHA HH AHAHA!!!”

Since I lack the sack to go through with this all I can hope for is that some asshole that really hates me will go to my house and provide this service.

I have discussed this with several people in a less theatrical setting and I was surprised at the number of people who would enjoy watching their house burn.

I am Tom Nardone, and you are welcome.

If you would like to be notified, and have quicker access to my brain, You can follow me on facebook here.

If you would like to be notified via email, then go to the top of this page and click the button that says “BE AWESOME”

IT WILL FEEL GREAT!!!

Help me. I can only spread so much bullshit by myself.
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