Comments on: Rogers

By: Girlieontheedge

Girlieontheedge — Fri, 18 Dec 2009 16:00:31 +0000

There is a contradiction I cannot get my head around – rogers are the ultimate conformists yet they have a uniqueness about them. I call them conformists not in an accusatory way nor is it meant to be offensive nor do I think it a bad thing necessarily. Just a statement of fact.
I had a recent conversation with a roger insisting I do a particular thing – nothing of a serious nature (or so I thought:)). What bothered me was not the suggestion I should do this thing in particular but the urgency that it was THE thing to do. I HAD to do it. (stopped asking why) Like, if you don’t do this it is a bad thing? Maybe I need some help clarifying this concept.
Oh, and do all rogers use the word “seriously” a lot when trying to get others to conform to the rules?

By: renaissanceronin

renaissanceronin — Mon, 26 Oct 2009 22:36:52 +0000

Oh, I almost forgot…

“Downspring Newbies” are just “minions.”

They’re fodder for the machine… scapegoats just waiting to be led to slaughter… and conspirators when they find your body at the bottom of an elevator shaft.

Glad I could clear that up for you. That’ll be $29.50. And remember, we charge late fees!

By: renaissanceronin

renaissanceronin — Mon, 26 Oct 2009 22:32:27 +0000

If a guy comes into my office…

… assails my family ancestry, and then goes on to call me a “walking meat storage unit…” and I calmly set down my black coffee (and not that sissy “latte” stuff that costs more than a gallon of premium gasoline… in a stinking styrofoam cup, mind you…) and then I beat the living Beejeezus out of him with a wireless keyboard… Mind, you, just for the sheer sport in it…

Am I a;

(a) CLARK
(b) SCOTT
(c) Roger or…
(d) Just a FELON?

Inquiring minds, don’t ya know…

By: clarkscottroger

clarkscottroger — Sat, 24 Oct 2009 00:56:08 +0000

From the Roger:
On my way home from work, I generally listen to a radio program called ” Fresh Air” on NPR. Interviews and articles on a wide array of stuff, hosted by Teri Gross. Today, she was interviewing Tracy Morgan, who was an SNL guy and is now on “30 Rock”. She has great skills as an interviewer, and always seems to get something good out of that scenario.
Sadly, even she was at a bit of a loss with Tracy Morgan. I can now honestly say that I have never heard a more hopelessly Rogerian Roger than this guy. OMG. Completely mesmerized with himself, absolutely awash in self-indulgence. Lots of dead air in this interview, because Tracy had to keep fighting back tears as he ranted about the only truly important thing on this Earth.
This sort of thing can send a Progenitor screaming in search of the nearest cliff. It is acutely painful to have to witness. I felt simultaneously angered and embarrassed. Angry, because these people are out there, and likely doing massive damage to anyone who has to interact with them. Embarrassed, because I see elements of myself clearly. This bad of a Roger should be simply cut from the herd and made to learn to survive on his own, or not. Whatever.
I’d like to offer a point of clarification, also, to people who may be new to this blog and it’s main idea. Yes, Clark-Scott-Roger are all somewhat static personality types that may seem almost stereotypical. But- and this really is the Point, if you would indulge me- as Progenitors, we all three have grown astronomically above and away from those one-dimensional caricatures. The ” original” Clark could never have dreamed of piloting a blog. I could never have gotten out of my own way enough to ever consider contributing to it. And even though the “original” Scott hasn’t said much in this forum, that in itself is quite telling. We have all…evolved. I myself could only quote a few significant particulars that may have caused such a dramatic and yet gradual change. Maybe just basic human nature; if it doesn’t kill you, it will make you stronger. I am still fundamentally a Roger, but now have the bittersweet capacity to see the horrific learning curve that a fledgling Roger has to get through to survive. The poor bastards. If they could see all of that at one glance, that in itself would crush them.( Either that, or they’d get a gig on a network sitcom…)This would hold true for all three types, of course. But we all seem to have found our particular ways to change and still remain the same.
So, now we have Progenitors ( Clark, Scott, and I) and Downsprings ( second-generation cadre). Some of the Downsprings are actually better examples of us than we are. I sense that we might need one more descriptive term just to fit the newbies, though. Anyone have an idea? Or does “downspring” serve that purpose as well?
And just a last bit of field advice for those Rogers who are just awakening to these odd and awkward Clarkscottrogerian gems of truth; aim low, conserve your ammunition, and for God’s sake, stay off the radio.

By: clarkscottroger

clarkscottroger — Sun, 04 Oct 2009 07:23:30 +0000

From the Roger; Beware the UltraRoger
Being a Roger, I am eerily cognizant of how important it is to other Rogers to have a supply of regularly updated examples of our kind in action in the world. Helps us to look up from the particular patch of grass that we are currently obsessing on, and take notice of other elements in our world that we can be equally obsessed with.( Ah, bitter sarcasm…) And maybe someday, through simple repetition, to rise above obsession altogether. To actually achieve complete spiritual freedom. Nirvana. Salvation. I find it quite ironic that the ultimate lesson of the Wakefield Doctrine is to be able to abandon the Wakefield Doctrine. If you meet the Clark on the road, kill him…
So… today’s illustration begins with me going, as I often do, to the local library. Chance would have it that today they were hosting a book sale, which is normally a somewhat less than stellar event. Typically attended by a sporadic assortment of damaged and battle-weary Rogers and Clarks, with an occasional flanking raid by a half-starved and fervently desperate Scott. But this one was way different. It might have been the driving rain that did it, or an aftereffect of a tanked economy, but the place was packed. Overrun with the flat-out strangest damned array of human flotsam I’ve seen in a while, and between years of rock and roll bands and re-enacting, believe me, I have seen some truly jaw- dropping weirdness. I am not aspiring to separate myself from my brethren, but these people worried me. There is, in the world, a very particular and really disturbing faction of casualties who seem to lurk in the corners of public places, and especially favor libraries. ( Of course I am NOT included here; I always have a very good reason for being there. I peruse; they just wander aimlessly) From the teenager with the hopefully functional cassette walkman who sat in a corner doggedly going through an entire mountain of books on tape, to the three old ladies running what I think was meant to be a row of antique tables but was actually an assortment of broken lamps and crockery, truly filthy small kitchen appliances ( a blender with several multi-colored rings inside of it, really very Van Gogh if you looked at it from a safe distance) and possibly the strangest of all; several boxes of old dolls, all of whom seemed to be missing limbs. Now , all this has been seen before, at flea markets and such…but at the library?
The massive display of books was very well organized, each section with a dutiful attendant bagging books and answering the geuinely strange questions that can be posited only by a tragically twisted Roger or Clark. ” There is a particular James Patterson title that I need. Why don’t you have it? Why can’t you get it for me? Do the other libraries have it? Can I get it from the regular library shelf? Why not?” And so on. Not a single one of them seemed to understand the subtle nuance between a Borders retail store and…a library fundraiser.
As implied, Rogers were in great supply here. All shapes and sizes. All social groupings. Families, with children posing weird questions to their parents, who in turn demanded them to the hapless and exasperated librarians. Couples…” no, honey, get the other one.” This, overheard while a pair of Land’s End professorial sorts pored through a few dozen of the same Dean Koontz title, looking for the most recent printing. Why? Why is this important? Am I less of a Roger for wanting to reprimand them? For realizing that if they were at the outer edge of the herd, even a badly wounded Scott could get them both with one stroke? One should remain vigilant while the other indulges. This is a cardinal rule for fledgling Rogers.
And then I saw them. The Rogerian couple of all time and space. Consisting of a typically attractive but totally subserviant Rogerian female, and…him. Pretty impressive for suburban Rhode Island. She all but swept the floor before him as he passed through the crowded aisles without allowing any inferior creature to come into direct contact. Brown suede boots, straight jeans, Australian-style duster coat ( I hate those) and a meticulously polished and perfectly placed leather outback hat. With a chinstrap.( Hate all that, too.)Thank God that they don’t allow horses in libraries, he would have been sidesaddle, with a parasol. The look of utter distaste and contempt as he waited for the female to search for acceptable material for his perusal.He also had a carry-basket gleaned from the nearby supermarket. She would bring him a book; he would inspect it thoroughly ( for what, exactly, I could not determine), check the cover ( for tears, I suppose)and finally… smell it. Yes. Smell it. As if he were verifying Satan’s babies’ diapers. And then, if acceptable, it went in the bin. I observed, and resisted the urge to grab the chinstrap and try to fling him across the room. A small opportunity did present itself, however. The female brought him a book which he had just started inspecting when she brought yet another. He put the first one down while he was distracted by the second, and on impulse, I quickly moved in and grabbed the first one. Moving away, I immediately went to the checkout line,( I had had quite enough by then)and bought the damned thing just to screw up his day. Turns out, I now have a copy of an old Andrew Greeley detective novel. Completely useless. But it was worth the dollar. And it smells ok to me. But… the weirdest bit is that the main character in it has my same last name. It’s a pretty unusual name. Remember my other rant about Rogers and sychronicity? I know that it means something, but I haven’t the slightest idea what…
Oh, and I also got a copy of the Eric Clapton biography that came out last year. It was in a section marked ” Rogerian Apologists.” ( That is not true.)

By: Clark

Clark — Mon, 10 Aug 2009 11:37:42 +0000

(Ladies first…)

If it helps, (understanding and knowing scotts around you) and leads to (understanding and knowing your own form); consider the following: if you and Miki had gotten to watch the Red Sox, and if the excitment got to the ‘scream at the players level’, had you glanced over at the scott, there is a very good chance the scott was looking at you, rather than the tv. Scotts feed on energy.
(quick cartoon moment… you are both seen in front of your tv, cheering the team. change of POV to that of the scott who is watching a thanksgiving turkey sitting in your seat, still cheering the Sox.)
Not to make it weird, but it is the ‘natural’ order of things and I would defer to the Progenitor(roger) on the question of ‘does the roger put the A1 sauce on themselves, or do they wait for the scott to do it’?

The Roger.
I think we need to figure out an audio feature to this thing. I look at the words ‘profilular’ and ‘synchronicital’ and I feel uneasy.
Which is interesting. I think it is telling us something about (the power) of rogers.
scotts and clarks are obvious in their power, it has not been so for you-like people.
And, curiously enough, the above is the first time I have seen a rogerian expression (or a piece of one) in print before hearing it.
The fact that the word is disturbing in print is telling us something, even if we are too fuckin mentally retarded to get it.

By: clarkscottroger

clarkscottroger — Sun, 09 Aug 2009 22:18:00 +0000

From the Roger;
We Rogers always worry if things are appropriate or not; that in itself typically guarantees their validity. I admire the dogged determinism needed to rebuild decks and patios in such a fashion. I too have found myself immersed in such things, but sadly, with mixed results. That said, it serves as a decent lead-in to this little offering. I started to put this on Phyllis’ Profile page, but now think it better placed here instead. Appropriate. Although I now claim authorship of the word ” profilular”, which I hope to be able to use in context as soon as possible.
Today I address the truly peculiar connection between Rogers and ” synchronicity”- that strange force that always finds us thoroughly involved in something that we didn’t plan on, didn’t knowingly seek out, and yet are invariably completely immersed in. The patios, decks, gardens, etc. Ex.#1;Last summer, I started rebuilding some front porch flooring. ( Keep in mind that I am inherently shiftless and lazy, and will always resist such things at all cost). The relatively straightforward plank replacement was nothing compared to the large structural support beam that was completely destroyed by termites. For a Roger, nothing compares to that moment of total panic when you have absolutely no idea how to proceed. I managed it with railroad ties, and thank God for that small bit of inspiration, because it certainly didn’t come from me. I am absolutely not that smart, and honestly had no business being there to begin with.
Ex.#2; The Turtle Guy Emerges. Yesterday I was leaving my house on an errand, when I saw what seemed to be a large reptilian thingy in the adjacent street. On further investigation, I was correct. A Roger can spot large reptilian thingies every time. ( In centuries previous, this would have proven invaluable. Not so much in present-day Cranston). Now comes the critical juncture; 1) drive away,thinking ” huh- turtle in the road- whaddya know” 2) run the turtle over, gleefully reveling in Man’s Dominion Over Reptilian Thingies 3)suddenly and inexplicably transform into a bleeding-heart leftist liberal,tree-huggin’, democrat- votin’,earth-shoe wearin’, NRA- hatin’, turtle-savin’, Arlo Guthrie-fan son of a bitch.( Actually,all that’s mostly true anyway, except I like the NRA and Arlo. But if Arlo, or anyone else for that matter sees me in Earth shoes, please exercise your God- given right to bear arms and remove me from the planet. And thanks from a grateful nation). Okay,so anyway, while I’m trying to coax a big-ass turtle into a box with a shovel (not recommended), a lady comes out of the nearest house and approaches. I say” is this your turtle?” And she replies negatively, but informs that her 18 and 15-year old sons had him in a pool in the backyard. Never, ever underestimate the truly spectacular stupidity of The American Teenager. And that they had found him ” at the lake.” ( No lakes in Cranston to date; nonetheless her kids apparently spend endless hours communing with nature there in a totally unsupervised manner: never, ever underestimate the phenomenal stupidity of The Mother of The Aforementioned American Teenager.( And that’s why I support the NRA). Anyway; finally got said reptile into container provided by said mother, was asked to leave it by her front steps so that said teenagers could return him to said lake. The container was too small for said reptile, but I figured that he wouldn’t be there very long. ( Didn’t I just finish saying not to underestimate something or other…) Okay, now we FF to this morning, where some 15 hours later the said reptile is still standing on his head in a little beer cooler. I, being a highly trained Roger, notice this immediately on arising and proceed to launch into a vicious, vile, totally unsubstantiated rant concerning turtles, teenagers, mothers of said, the questionable and highly suspect morals and dubious ancestry of all involved, even Arlo. Then,after much consumption of caffeinated beverage, leave said house going on yet another said errand, by way of aforementioned said porch stairs. ( I must say- this thing seems to have taken a profoundly profilular turn)!!!! Having already decided not to intervene further into turtledom and see if said teenagers would actually rectify said situation, I started my car; and on proceeding in reverse out the driveway, I went over a speed bump. Curious. No lakes in Cranston, and no speed bumps either. Turtles and morons in abundance, yes; speed bumps and lakes,not to my knowledge. Imagine my surprise on discovering the damned reptile, whom I had just run over. How so? A prank of said teenagers? Amazingly ambitious reptile seeking revenge? I found myself once again at that all-too-familiar point of not knowing WTF to do. I carefully, slowly approached said reptile, harboring visions of the attack rabbit in the Holy Grail movie. He was very, very angry but otherwise unharmed. He undoubtedly cast aspersions on my ancestry, and you would be quite amazed to see the gamut of emotions attainable in the facial features of said reptile. I apologized profusely. I expressed great and profound admiration for the purely phenomenal engineering marvel known as the Turtle Shell, and its ability to withstand the Ford Focus. He spat; he cursed; he leapt at my throat. Thankfully, my adept footwork prevailed. He could only knick at my shoes (and this proves that the Holy Grail rabbit was apparently aided by some means of artificial propulsion).
I went quickly to retrieve said trusty box and shovel, and after a desperate struggle moved the vile beast to my own backyard, enclosed on three sides; and contemplated the now frighteningly profilular!! circumstances.
And now here’s the really weird part, the whole point to this synchronicital!!(yes! two in one day!)business. ( Oh thank God… a point, finally, will he ever shut up…)
Yes dear readers, here it is. The Point.
As I walked away from my yard, thinking only of all things terrapinal!! and wondering if I would now be required to establish a National Terrapin Reserve and if I could maybe get Obama to pop for some funding and would I have to wear the fucking Earth shoes now and what the hell to do with a giant turtle in Cranston ( because he was now mine; no way he’s going back to the Devil Children, not after all this)…there’s the reptile again. In front of me. Several yards away from where I just let him out of the box. And over a 7-foot fence. Challenging me. Staring me down. Apparently able to transport himself at will. I was overcome with the same exact irrational fear that haunts kids who are afraid of the dark(like I was) or were scared of a closet door that wouldn’t close all the way (like I was)or all the rest of that Stephen King stuff; hair standing right up on the back of your neck, ready to bolt for at least twelve miles if necessary…
And then I noticed… that he had also gotten bigger…just about ready to go now…when I heard a little scraping noise… and turned my head to see… the first turtle looking at me from around the corner of the fence. There were now two of them. And, they had me flanked. Turtle Raptors. Who knew?
Once again, dazed, confused, disoriented…the usual…
They’re actually pretty docile, unless you poke them. They’re maybe not too happy with the situation, being penned in my backyard, but at least they’re safe for now. As a dutiful Roger, I have found a number for the SPCA, who promise to help out just as soon as they get back to the office after VJ Day. So I am the Turtle Guy unti further notice. I haven’t the slightest idea where the second one came from. I hope they’re not raptors. What a horrible death. All I know is- if any more show up, then I really am the Turtle Guy, and exactly how does one become a designated destination for turtles? Apparently highly sentient turtles. And very well organized.
I have to go now. They need me….

By: Joanne

Joanne — Sat, 08 Aug 2009 21:00:40 +0000

I must be a Roger if it took me this long to think of something appropriate to write and I’m still not sure if I did.
I’m sitting here waiting for Miki (Scott) to come over. I invited her over to watch the Red Sox ( the Scott in me), and when she wasn’t here by 4:30 P.M., (game started at 4 P.M.), I called her cell. She was in Home Depot buying some stuff and made a point of telling me that she actually read the directions for a little project she’s doing because, surely, I would.
Five years ago, I rebuilt my deck by ordering a couple of how-to books online, and taking it apart and replacing it, board by board. It took a year and a half to finish. I am now in the process of building a brick patio which has also taken about that same length of time.

By: The Roger

The Roger — Fri, 17 Jul 2009 02:09:56 +0000

This Just In….from The Desk of The Roger
I just saw a trailer on NBC for a new series called ” The Wanted”. Looks like a Unit/24 kind of thing. Doesn’t matter. What caught my attention was the names of the three main characters… Scott…Roger…and (wait for it…..wait….) Adam.
Adam?? This just proves that there is obviously a highly placed Clark in that organization, one who apparently thinks that such a thin ruse would hide his simpering, sniveling, baboon-ass attempt to place himself in the national spotlight. The unmitigated nerve. And, yes, of course I’ll watch the first episode. Don’t be surprised to see a cat with superb martial arts skills and a black woman with a really, really bad temper…. ever notice how Rogers love to make cryptic comments and just let them hang there?….Well, do you , punk?….

By: ((the) clark)

((the) clark) — Wed, 15 Jul 2009 10:15:55 +0000

…now we’re getting somewhere.

This is where rogers stand out, telling a tale. Rogers would have been the one singing the six hour long tale of ‘Sir John of Cornmeal and his Encounter with the Biggest Goddamn Dragon you Ever Saw’ at a court of some scottian heavy in pre-medieval England.

Rogers are the lyricists.

So what does that tell us?

(Think, goddamn it)

(Yes? You! Scott in the back of the class, what do you think it tells us? “It means they talk too much”
NO. It does not and leave your classmates alone, they don’t like getting their ears flicked with folded bobby-pins)

(You! Clark! Stop whispering to scott and tell us what the fact that ‘rogers are the lyricists’ tells us.
CORRECT! it tells and shows us the importance of the context both social and personal history that rogers place on life, that tales are the only way that a roger can relate to a herd beyond their own personal lives.)

So think about what the characteristics are telling you about how a person perceives the world.