I Just Can't Stand It
 

I can't take it anymore. I just can't. Seems the entire world has turned stupid. I know it hasn't, but, God damn if it doesn't seem that way. One example: Yesterday, I spoke with a sixty year old man who thought a chicken's gizzard was it's asshole, "you know, the part the egg comes out of". People, I shit you not. The man had managed to live his entire life without knowing what a chicken gizzard was, thinking eggs fell out of a chicken's asshole, but, was stupid enough to believe he was educating the room as to the actual identity of a gizzard.

That's not what's pushed me over the edge, of course. It's been an accumulative thing. It really does seem like the world around me is getting dumber by the fucking minute. Twice already this week, I've been driven to isolation by just sheer dumbfuckery.

Every day older I get, the less I seem to be able to tolerate willful stupidity. When I get to The House tonight to watch "NCIS", the guy who bought the TV will undoubtedly ask what fucking channel it comes on. We've been watching it since the pilot episode. What's that, six-eight years? He will have no clue and start surfing trying to find it if I don't tell him.

I'm taking a vacation. Not from home. Not from stupid people. Not from anything other than my own senses.

I'm dumbing down. Ima start drinking right around 7/7:30. I got six hundred bucks in my pocket, and I'm staying drunk til I'm broke. Fuck it, why not?

Why shouldn't I? Ain't gonna hurt nobody but me. Gonna make my life real easy for the next few days, though. No responsibilities, I'm drunk. I can say/do anything I feel like, and people have to look over me, cause Ima be drunk. That's how it works for the rest of the world the rest of the time, Ima give it a shot, fuck it, y'all look over me for a change. God damn right. Feel better already.

And if that guy that uses 'motherfucker' like a pronoun calls ("Motherfucker you are crazy as hell.") me a motherfucker, I'm going to the liquor store for the express purpose of buying a big goddamned bottle to crack over his fucking head. I know he don't mean it in a mean/derogatory fashion, but, as I've told him a hundred times, I don't like being called a motherfucker. I'll have to hit him with something, he's too big for me to whoop his ass the ol fashioned way. And if he whoops my ass, well, I won't feel it (not right away anyway), cause Ima be drunk. Yay.

I have tiger DNA and Adonis blood. Or something.

I'm a winner.

Team Me. Fuck yeah.:devil:

After being exposed to Hep, TB, and STDs today (that's a healthcare mandatory training joke), instead of heading right home to contemplate some really awful photographs that are part of the training in solitude, I decided to head to the Target to hook up on some Easter Stuff, since I accidentally found out that Easter is this weekend by listening to the radio this morning. Hey, when you're not a Christian, you miss that whole Palm Sunday thing, you know?

So, anyway ... I was in the Target and was reflecting on that very issue of burgeoning stupidity. Not a cause, to be sure, but a consequence ... The DVD section was THREE TIMES the size of the book section. More than THREE TIMES if you don't count the aisle of coloring and activity books as books. Four times, if you ONLY calculate based on the adult book section.

yeah, I'm using a lot of capital letters. But this is upsetting to me.

And I don't think the difference is entirely driven by the popularity of ereaders.

It's the rise of stupid.

I would congratulate Gravdigr on his wise decision, but by time he comes to and finds his way back to the Cellar, it will most likely be a moot point. However, I'm joining Gravdigr's team, anyhow - just for the gizzard ass.

My comments on the state of the printed word are unprintable. And my Kindle died. Yes. However, a friend informs me that Dr. Zhivago is still available on the books by the pound shelf at the local public library. He figures it won't last for long, though.

Other than that, Cortez has no bookstore, especially now that the only Kindle in town is on the fritz.

But MY evening has been made special by a conversation I had with my ex-husband earlier today. Prior to this most recent exchange, I hadn't spoken with the man in ten years. I now remember why. I also now remember why I divorced him. All, I'll say is that he is one extremely lucky, stupid bastard that he is a 400 mile, seven hour drive across the mountains away. He is even luckier that I don't have a few stray white crosses or a snort of coke - even a minor hit of speed - would do for me to hop in the truck RFN, 1:40am MDT, and keep going until I pulled up around 8:30am this unlovely morning in front of his fav over-priced coffee shop where I would have a nice little woman to piece-of-shit chat with him in front of the local coon hound crowd that passes for what he calls "friends" these days.

Yesssss...

I would like to strike a blow for the decline of Mr. Stupid.

When I worked in a shop in Leicester, one of my co-workers understood the word "gullet" to be a verb. As in, "I'm going to gullet a fish."

Chris and I vigorously disagreed, at which point she got all huffy and drew on her Newcastle heritage. Which was inexcusable, as we couldn't prove that the word wasn't in everyday use in Newcastle in the middle of a busy Saturday in Leicester.

And no, I never did bother to look it up on the internet. People lie on there you know. All I know is Chris and I laughed so hard that day I'm surprised we didn't damage any major organs. Poor Teri. She was a real Mrs Malaprop sometimes, so how could we ever take her lessons in Geordie-fish-fillet-speak seriously?

I remember GD being shitty with me because of my dumbism :lol:

Been a cumulative thing.[/irony]

NOVA tonight will have a show on that Russian meteor. It will be smarter than anything on any of the other channels and should be fun to watch too. Fireballs in the sky, shattering glass from a shock wave. A bit of science discussion about what's possibly out there that might come next.

But mostly the fireball and explosions.

Idgie: He won't even sit in the same room and have a meal today.
Sipsey: Oh, it don't make no kind of sense. A big old ox like Grady won't sit next to a coloured child, but he eats eggs... shoots right out of a chicken's ass.

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And one more thing: how dumb is it to BUY gizzards for eatin'? I mean, it's a fucking digestive organ. It's got, like, sand or something in it.

Moses: An' when they was no meat we ate fowl. An'when they was no fowl we ate crawdad. An' when they was no crawdad to be foun', we ate San'.
HI: You ate what?
Moses: (nodding): We ate San'.
HI: You ate sand?!
Moses: Dass right . . .

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I'll be here all week. Try the Kentucky Whiskey Infused Liver.

How dumb is it to be self destructive?
How dumb is it to waste $600 some bucks on self destruction?

Irony thy name is Gravdigr. :heart-on:


Seriously maybe that guy is one of those sheep hybrids I told you about ;)

At Wally World about all you can buy are God Books, Amish Romance, and whatever wampire/werewolf/stoopid fantasy creature series is popular right now. There you go, the dumbing down, the rise of stupid. Sheep.

And gravdigr, you go on witchoo bad self. You do what you want, holmes. Let loose.

In the meantime, I will be looking up what the procedure costs for removing sticks from peoples' asses. If'n you mention fun/food/drink, you will surely be told how bad it all is for you.

So. Meh. One Life. Imma enjoy it. And one day Imma party with ya, grav! ;)

Oh, and your 'you motherfucker' friend? I actually had a friend tell me last night to STOP TALKING about an innocuous subject because she didn't understand it anyway so stop talking about it. With 3 other folks in the room.

She has no idea how I've evolved. We just laughed at her rudeness. A year ago I'd've held up my hand and say "oh no you DI'INT" and would have walked out of her house.

People are mostly the suck. With a few exceptions. You know who you are.

amazon reaches everywhere. And, FWIW, the wallyworld website has a much broader range of interesting reading than you would expect.

Perhaps a means of combatting stupid is to take books you are done with and leave them in places where people wait. Doctor's offices, bus stops, auto mechanic shops, whatever. Maybe they'll get thrown out when someone is cleaning up, but maybe they'll get picked up and read and change someone in a positive, even if small, way.

Oh yes, I get a lot of movies and books from Amazon.

Probably the local wally world caters to our locals. ;) But I have found books there...it's not like a Barnes and Nobles or anything though.

I find Amish Romance to be a really hilarious genre. I'm waiting for the Robot Romance craze. What are the chances of two crazy young robots finding love?

I like the idea of leaving books, except I keep all my books. I would like to leave them around for car sitters and bench sitters. Car sitters who wait for whoever they got in the store, sitting staring straight ahead, looking at nothing. Bench sitters who wait for their turn to see an FA person, who sit and stare straight ahead, looking at everybody who walks by. I think "hey, maybe if you used that time to crack open a book you wouldn't be sitting there waiting to talk about what happens when you drop or fail your class." :p:

Can't buy from Amazon any more.
Motherfucking tax dodgers.

Feel all your pain re the local shops though.
I only know of one local (indepedent) bookshop.

Do amazing cards and wrapping too.
Shit. Bought in a couple for Bri.

Sorry. I hate to reference her every other thread but she really was a person in my life, not just a Dwellar.
Though a Dwellar is pretty good anyway.

You keep her memory alive by keeping her in your and our thoughts. I don't see a problem with that.

I don't talk about her because it seems to me that it's been a topic of discussion that I have no right to mourn her.

Only a bit more subtle than my friend telling me to shut up because she didn't care what I was talking about.

I did try to talk about her in the what are you reading, but as is usual that got posted all around but upside down.

Many of us miss her. We all grieve differently. Some of us have survivor's guilt. Some are hanging onto the meds and the therapy and the psychiatry so hard we're leaving fingernail marks even when we don't have fingernails, sad with the knowledge that a great, loving, and talented person is gone, and knowing our presence or lack thereof doesn't mean much one way or another, and that the stint in the bin that probably saved our life could've been foregone without much wailing and gnashing of teeth. And stomachs hurt and eyes leak and confusion rules the day. I don't think I'm alone, except of course, for the fact that I am alone.

I am sorry for everyone who is hurting, I feel for all of us who miss her, and I know we all do. I've been ashamed to say anything, feeling like I have no right. So here it is, in an inappropriate thread, but I finally said it and I hope that it is a good thing. Or at least, not a very bad thing. :(

More of my double pennies.

It must be real subtle, because I missed it entirely. I don't recall seeing anything like that anywhere. Can you point to a link? You have every right to mourn her, and I don't think anyone had any expectation that you were her keeper and could somehow prevent it. She had free will and was going to do what she was going to do. If we could turn back the clock, we would all do things differently, but we did the best we could at the time.

It's just a paranoid 'what's happenin' behind the scenes' feeling. I take the other cues and jump to conclusions. I never said I was correct. I was expressing how I feel, how it seems 'to me' using aforementioned cues and clues.

And knowing that I'd probably be labeled an attention ho, or ignored entirely, or both (behind the scenes, again) when I wrote this...knowing I could be made to feel shame for that post....it's just the risk I took for myself.

In my head, I already hear the cluck-clucking. But I don't care. I've said what I wanted to say. And that is done.

Yes, I am paranoid...but a part of that is because I'm pretty good at reading into things...like silences.

Well, I debated ignoring your post because I thought you might take my response as an attack, and I mean to support you, not attack you. But then ignoring your post would be just as bad. Probably worse. You are going to feel what you feel, and I don't want to deny you your feelings. I just think you're wrong. I certainly don't blame you for Bri's death, and I can't imagine anyone else thinking that either. I could be wrong. I've been oblivious to stuff in the Cellar before. But if anyone blames you for her death, they couldn't be more wrong.

There were plenty of signs, and I did nothing. But I thought she was going to work through it again like she always had in the past. I was wrong. I wish I had reacted differently, but even if I had done something drastic, what were we supposed to do, have someone guard her 24/7?

We gave her a community that supported her.

And this is the talk I wanted to have, and was afraid to have.

I cry every day. Not only because of the loss of Tril, the loss of my friends Charlie, Bruce, my dad's best friend like an uncle to me...all recent...all the bad things that have been happening...but because of my life. I am working on getting better so hard. I am working at work so hard. I am afraid my depression will win. So it's all right in my face, you know? I know I can do this. I really do...but it's there, in the back of my mind, and it's freaking scary.

I'm sorry. Shouldn't hijack grav's thread. I just don't know how to sort it out to make it make sense to anyone, least of all me.

Thanks glatt.

Interesting and true dichotomy for me anyway. I didn't have much to give her when she asked me a direct question about my breakup with alcohol. I told her what I did, but she needed more and I didn't play out the string. I think we all knew we could only do so much, but I could have given more. Anything that was said that IM felt pointed at her points at me and probably many of us.

I can write an entire novel in my head about what people are thinking of me and how I'm being judged, etc., etc. The reality is that my "War and Peace" is actually a 4 word note that someone tried to pass to me in the 3rd grade and got confiscated by teacher instead who threw it out without reading it. When the entire class went silent, it was because the test on fractions had just been handed out and everyone got panicked, trying to figure out the correct result for the addition of 3/4 + 7/8.

I strongly suspect that this is what's happening with you as well, IM. Sometimes people are silent because there is nothing coherent left to say in face of tragedy.

I haven't been on the Cellar for some days lately; but I still found (and find) that I think of Brianna often. I let her down. We weren't BFF's, but we were both alcoholics. Alcoholics read another drunk's words or talk to another alcoholic and they just KNOW. The experience of feeling that horrible despair, facing those Four Horsemen and being unable to imagine life either with or without alcohol make us members of an exclusive group that instantly recognizes complete strangers if they are one of us.

Brianna's posts often worried me, but instead of reaching out to her, I figured she had people here who could be her friends IRL; she'd be OK, blah, blah. And I shrugged her off. I didn't extend myself to send her PM's until the very end when it was too late.

If blame should fall on anyone here, I should be among the first. I've been to those same awful places where Brianna fought her demons. I've fought many of those demons of my own. I attempted suicide at least 3 times when my drinking became completely out of control and I couldn't endure the horrid, souless life I was living for one more minute - never mind an hour and certainly not a day.

Brianna/Trilb posted toward the last that AA had let her down. I don't know about AA in Ohio, but on the Cellar, THIS AA member read those posts and thought "not my job." Wrong. We alcoholics keep our sobriety by giving it away. I didn't give Bri a damn thing other than a couple of PM's at the end that were too little, too late.

I allowed my pathetic memory of a couple of stupid tiffs she and I had a million years ago as an excuse. Now I wish I'd sent her so many PM's (whether she'd have been delighted to get them or disgusted) that she would have gotten enraged with me and stayed sober just to show me how little I actually know about anything.

Mea culpa. Mea maxima culpa.

Sometimes silence is just silence..

Bri in her last 2 weeks sent me private messages and they were mostly upbeat. It was her public posts that let me know she was in trouble. I shared this fear with another dweller. She was not in control of her life, how could anyone who was not right there 24/7 control it for her?

I have had a few friends that are not in control of their life, one who spent 12 years "riding the dragon". 8 months forced jail kicked that habit but I see by her posts on FB she is doing other drugs now. :( I can't help her she would probably steal my purse. She has before.

Guilt is a self inflicted feeling. Maybe I know too many people that have taken their own life. Those poor dear souls that could not face another day and nothing anyone could do would make the ending different.

^wss^

Some people have been quiet because that's how they mourn and remember; others have shared because that's how they mourn and remember. It's not about blame.

People who worry what others think about them, would be shocked to find how little they do.

Shit, Shawnee.
Now I feel bad about ranting on and on about missing Bri and how much it hurts.

You did as much as me.
More, probably as I feel I did so little.
She said you'd spoken when I called, but guess what? I called drunk sometimes.
Pretty shitty, right.

I'd go toe to toe with anyone here that thought you were in any way guiltly for what happened. And you know she would have too.
But maybe that was our Irish fighting heritage (yeah, okay - old joke but it always got a laugh out of her.)

I care too much about you to think you should suffer for something you have no responsibiity for. Life has thrown enough in your path. Don't borrow more trouble. Bri still loved you and she'd have smacked you upside the head if she knew what you were thinking now.

Take my love instead.
And smacks.
When my boat comes in of course...

See, though, that wasn't my point. You have every right to express your feelings about Bri.

I was expressing my feelings too. How I feel. Inside.

Thanks to those who understood that, including you, Sundae. To those who took the chance to point out my thoughts were fucked up: shame on you. Big shame on you.

I know it wasn't your point, chick.
If I thought you were whinging I'd have sent you a PM.
And it would have been a little cross.
But I know you loved her too, so all I'm worried about is what you are doing to yourself.
I mean, who knows. Maybe if Bri was here she'd call you a bitch and a dumb cunt.

Yeah, okay she wouldn't because it's not justified.
But one thing that lady wasn't, was shy in coming forward.

Stay true girl. We're already down a third. And I'll be next.
You gotta hold on to be the last one standing.
Mebbe you'll even get a tramp stamp in our memory :lol:

Raise your hand if you'd be damn glad to have Bri call you a bitch or a cunt! ;)

:raiseshand:

Thank you Sundae. It's difficult to talk about, and when I do I feel like I'm saying the exact wrong thing. But I had to say what I said because it's been eating me up.

Even that ^ feels weird. Eating me up? So? I feel like "suck it up, self" because it's a loss that can't be fixed so why does it matter a whit that it's been hard on 'me.' Ugh. I just have no idea how to express these things.

I do thank you for understanding.

They are full of collagen and a lot of very rich chicken flavor, you can cook them for hours, slowly in liquid, to make a broth or flavor base. They give that wonderful teeth stuck together thing that good chicken soups do. The gravel is washed out of them before you get them. I don't know anyone who actually eats them, per se, but apparently a lot of people do. They are a muscley organ. I imagine they'd be chewy as hell without a lot of cooking.

I have a friend who is a farmer, very funny and extremely 'earthy' sense of humor. Not in the pun sense or earthy. His farm is in a heavily Amish populated area. He was joking about wanting to produce a series of Amish Farmgirl Porn movies. He'd get on a tear describing the plot arcs and the Amish girls, except they wouldn't be the idealized typical porn girl, they'd be your typical Amish farm girl... I guess it gets lonely out on the organic vegetable farms... Still he had me in stitches with the preposterous incongruity of it.

Apart from trained professionals how many of us recognized those signs only in hindsight? A lot of us let it all hang out here and have days where we say "fuck it." Of course, NOW I read all sorts of things into her last few weeks of posting, and it makes sense, but had things turned out differently, the meaning of those posts would be different too.

We remain.

I've been lucky because I've had someone close enough to visit (Limey) with personal knowledge of suicide, to talk to.
So I can come on here and say wah-wah-wah and not worry. Because the initial phase has passed. Not the grief. No, never the grief. But we all know that.
Holding it in must be fucking awful.

I'd give a lot to have Bri call me a cunt right now.
She always called me baby-girl. I'd never have let a man call me that!
I can hear her now. Makes me want to bang my head against the wall until my brains spill out.

All I can hope, Infi, is that you know you can say what you want on the Cellar.
Whatever your support at home (and I really hope you have some), no-one knew Brianna the way we did. Come here with your memories and pain. If it hurts, when it hurts, let it out. This wide world might not know or care, but we do.

I'm a bad friend. I know this. I forget birthdays and I don't send cards (though I buy them sometimes and never get around to sending them) and I don't know what to say about anything. I'm good for a ride somewhere and those kinds of things. But I'm damn bad at being 'friends' like girls typically are. I'm bad on the phone. I'm not good at calling people and sometimes I don't answer the phone.

When I read Bri's son's post, I had just written her a thank you card, about an hour earlier...for being there for me when I went into the bin. I had finished one for BigSarge too (it's still sitting at home) and then I read that post and jesus christ I still had her card sitting in front of me.

And I stopped. That card won't get sent. I tried to do the good things friends do and it was too late.

And I didn't go to the funeral and I don't miss funerals I always go to pay respects and I was sick that day and I just couldn't, just couldn't get myself to get myself ready and leave the house and go there. And I can never, ever, ever fix that.

So, there, I finally said it. I feel like a jerk because I am a jerk. I'm angry at myself so as always I am angry with the world. But I am OK. I am me. It's not always good enough but I am trying as hard as I can. I'm really really trying.

Anyway...

BTW, Grav please check in. TY.

Also, livers and gizzards are supposedly very expensive at the KFC. For guts. I don't care if you cook them for 30 years, I ain't knowingly eating them. ;)

Knowingly eating them?
You're soaking in them!

Huh! I thought EVERYBODY ate chicken gizzards, but maybe they're just a Kentucky/Southern thing. My uppity Swiss Mom would turn up her nose, but I loved it when my Dad showed off his Kentucky cooking abilities and woud throw a batch of gizzards into the pot to simmer for dinner - takes around 3 hours or so to do 'em up right. For anyone who wants to try them out.

I bet this crowd would be a hard sell on boiled pigs' feet, as well. No wonder Gravdgr took himself off in disgust with a little corn likker for consolation. :headshake

You know what we eat over here.
Or at least you should, me being here since '05 and all.
Dana and Limey too of course, but I hold my hand up as the most common and therefore the most likely to eat teh grim stuff.

Gizzards?
You were klucky!

PS I am buying into a stereotype I recently criticised Foot for. And he was only joking.
But I am allowed.
I am white and English and I am women, eat me raw.

I could have written that about myself.

Fortunately, most of my friends seem to recognise and accept this utter lack of friendly behaviour as in no way indicative of a lack of caring. Otherwise, i'd have no friends :p

;)

Iamsam brought out the pig's feet. ears ago, I had just read Mandingo, came home and Mom had pig's feet on stove. All the bones in pot, no way.
I have eaten pickeled feet and used them to make head cheese. But no heads in my souse or head cheese.

head cheese...

*shakes head*

I've eaten pig's ears. Can't say I developed a craving after the first one.

I'll eat the gizzard when we're roasting a turkey. They are pretty good with a dash of salt. I wouldn't pay extra for one though, the breast/thigh/leg/wing meat is all better.

Head cheese is gross.

Never had ear and wouldn't seek it out.

Well, you are certainly welcome to your mis-perceptions, but I'd strongly advise you to stay out of Goldbug, KY - a man with attitudes like yours. :eek: I don't think even Grvdggr could help a flat lander like you who probably can't even sit down to a nice roast possum for dinner, never mind a side of pig trotters to go with it.

:lol:

aaaccckkkk!

Yea gizzards and neck is what you make the gravy out of.

No,no! That's the half-frozen stuff you yank out of the interior of the Butterball and throw away on Thanksgiving morning! It's a family tradition!

Trotters!
Now you're talking.
Have you ever read As I Walked Out One Midsummer Morning?
Best description of London food (pre-war) I've read.
By a non-Londoner I mean.
Laurie Lee liked his grub though. He's the reason I went to Spain. Well, him and George Orwell. Eric Blair was more into politics than food though.

Anyway, that was the food my Nanny and Grandad lived on. London/ Irish, suet, gravy, offal (now prized by the nobs who would've turned their nose up back in the 30s) bacon, cabbage, your own rabbits, share of a pig if you could get one, fresh fish from Billingsgate and anything you could filch from the place you were working in. There's a complex set of morals in the East End, and stealing from your employer is (was) simply a perk of the job. Lord alone help you if you were caught with something taken from a local shop though.

I don't think that's specific to the East End ye know. It's a survival of a much older arrangement between employer and employee and there are/were remnants of it in many traditional working class communities. Though it probably survived in a more defined way in London. The balance between money wages and in kind entitlements was a site of contention between employers and employees from the 18th century on. And within working class communities that sense of entitlement along the margins never really went away.

Personally, I think it has a small survival in the way we view taking home odd bits of office equipment (pens, paper, a holepunch etc), or the way many people who work in the NHS somehow acquire bits of bedding or kitchen towels with the NHS logo on them :P

It's something I've been looking at in relation to eighteenth-century conceptions of crime and criminality. A lot of the cases of theft in both civil and military cases hang on this sense of entitlement to chips and other perks.

Aha!
Thanks for the historical perspective.
I can only report what I know, so it relates to the people born within the sound of Bow Bells.

I'm pretty sure I said before that Nanny used to smuggle home food in her underwear during the war. And when I was disgusted (as children will be by the proximity of food and knickers) she said you did what you could to feed your family and it you didn't you'd just go hungry. I remember being hungry as a child. Between meals. I'm not sure if families with two working parents are really hungry now. My parents have smoked salmon in the fridge. Yes, it's Every Day Value off-cuts, but it's still pieces of smoked salmon.

Eating between meals?
Eating what?
Nothing. Nothing spare to eat.
I don't mean this to sound like The Four Yorkshire-Men (much as I love it as a comedy sketch) but we were lucky when our London rellies came down and we got to sit on a wall outside the pub with a fizzy drink and crisps. Children get those on the way home from school these days.

So I can't even comprehend what it was like back then. When you had to hide what you grew and what you raised in your backyard for fear it would be confiscated.

And no, I don't resent it. I live right here right now and things are pretty much fine.
I'd never want to go back to a time when a tin of Heinz soup or a glass of "fresh" orange juice was a luxury starter. But I could if I had to.

A couple days ago I spoke with a fellow who was under the impression that a Kindle/Nook/E-Reader came preloaded with the books.

All of them.

In his defense, I bet he also thinks that can't be more than, like, 100 books, right?

In his defense, that is how we should be thinking of Kindle and whatnot, because the cloud.

Spotify is 98% of all recorded pop music, it's just not PREloaded. But it is 1 second away from steaming anything, at all times.

I recall about a decade and a half ago, I'd regularly get people asking me if I'd burn them a copy of the Internet onto a CD as they had no internet access and wanted to look at it.

The best was somebody that wanted it copied to a 1.44MB floppy as his ancient computer had no CD reader.

I should have mocked up something like this.