I try my
best to be a kind person. Tolerance and compassion are the two things I strive
to maintain in my life. I have much empathy for others. Having just been said,
it is no easy feat to dish out joy when this world is so fucking bleak and foreboding.
In a reality so full of things and pleasure, there is often little to be joyful
about. On the best day, everything can rub you the wrong way. From the moment
you open your eyes feeling weary, all there is stands as every reason to just
go back to sleep. People only add to the chaos. Throughout my tenure on this
planet, I have noticed just how significant the retardation factor has become
in my fellow man. It's hard not to experience agoraphobia, when the simple act
of existing means coming in contact with one moron after another. I am not
exempt from this lifestyle, especially during rebuttal, but I hope I can still
catch myself from any conditioned response. In a world full of assholes, I too
am often a chocolate starfish. I just want to strike out at anything that
causes me grief. There are times when I interact with the public that I am mere
steps away from incarceration. Thank goodness my meds give me control over that
angst and violence but even they don't always inhibit the stick that, at times,
appears to be shoved up my ass. This day, I recognize that I am not alone in
this intrusion. It's time to purge my wooden invader. I need to say what there
is to say and be done with it. I totally, unabashedly, completely have the need
to rant.
I have
absolutely no respect for anyone who voted for Donald Trump. I believe anyone
who did vote for him should be charged with a hate crime. His supporters are
representational and self-explanatory. Hate is hate, even if you are simply
overlooking it. To validate such a man
with your vote is pure villainy. Since the election, I have withdrawn my favour
from almost all my social contacts that were so inclined in their commitment.
If you do not condemn a person for their nasty behaviour, then you condone that
behaviour. Trump's fiscal policy and agenda have little to do the character of
his person. When he physically mocked a disabled man, in front of millions,
that was the line for me. I wouldn't associate with that type of person in
private so why would I endorse them in public? I don't care if Hillary Clinton
emailed people pictures of her twat, the kind of person who does what Trump did
to that psychically challenged man should be shunned, not exonerated. Someone
should pull the stick out of his ass. As a neutral Canadian (sometimes), I am
bewildered by the recent choice America
made. I mean, seriously? I am convinced that down the line, given enough time,
those who grant approval to this man will come to realize that the same
condition they cast on another will one day visit them. They too will cry out
at the injustice. You always get what you paid for and the price is always so
high.
A few weeks
ago, I was pulling into the Dollarama parking lot when I ran into a wall. The
wall was a grey four-door Dodge Ram and it had grown out of the centre of a
parking lane. I had pulled into the lot and into line for a spot. Little did I
know this was no ordinary line, rather an all-new position the driver had
assigned to themselves. She just sat there, with no signal, no indication of
anything but being frozen in time. With no oncoming traffic, she could have
easily shuffled around for a different approach. She fidgeted in the front seat
and I watched with great interest. I just assumed she must be on a smartphone
so I lightly tapped the car horn, in that squeaking, barely touched the thing
way. I got nothing. I proceeded to unhook my seatbelt and reached for the door
to investigate. Maybe she was in need of medical assistance, one can never
really be sure. The second I grasped the
handle, she whipped right into the first empty space. She must have needed more
than mere assistance. I followed quickly behind her, immediately next to her,
as she opened up her door and stepped out. She was in her forties with a Prince Edward Island
haircut that reminded me of every schoolmarm in cinematic history. Her glasses
were oh so apropos. I stepped out and let it go. I told her harshly that she is
required by law to signal before any turn, even in a parking lot. She stuck her
nose so high in the air that I could see the stick coming out her left nostril.
She pissed me off, not even acknowledging me, so I called her a bitch. She
stopped dead and asked if I had just called her a bitch. Duh! In rare form, I
told her I would have called her a cunt but I couldn't smell her from my
vantage point. She practically ran into the shop. I proceeded at a distance
behind her. Inside, as I stood staring at a display case, she walked past me
and uttered "Wow." I replied with "That's exactly what I
thought." In a little fit of rage, she proclaimed that the entire store
"watch out for this guy." I went on with my duty, heavily amused at
this point. It did not last. She eventually disappeared after running into each
other a few more times. When I got back to my car, the SUV was gone and I
assumed so was she. I looked around to make sure she wasn't lurking. I still
couldn't smell a thing.
There is a fine line between friends
and neighbours. The two are not exclusive from each other but perhaps they
should be. I learnt a long time ago not to shit where you eat. Having settled
quite nicely into our home, it has been well over a year since the move to Paris , Ontario ,
Canada Canada ,"
and I for one wholeheartedly agree. It is a lovely place to live. The community
keeps mostly to themselves and the crime rate is dramatically low, although
things can seem a little "Stepford Wives" with all the very white
people. In the last 12 months or so, I have become acquainted with the
neighbours who live on each side of me. I speak of my immediate neighbours, not
the hot guy down the road or the snotty family to our left, mere metres away
from my door. Conveniently for me, they
are mostly women and so much easier to get along with than heterosexual men
(for the most part). Just out of immediate reach, a family with young kids
keeps mostly to themselves. One early morning, around 7 AM, one of those kids,
a small blond boy named John, rang our doorbell and startled my partner and me
from our sleeping. When I opened the door, he just stood there, claiming to
know nothing including his own name. I invited him inside, gave him a sugary
drink and a cookie, then decided to call the police. Never having seen the boy
before, and with nothing forthcoming from him, I was left with little choice.
The second I said anything about the cops, his memory returned and he was able
to lead me directly to his front door. She opened the door half asleep but her
smartphone was on. She had no idea the boy had gone missing. Without a word to
me, she harshly scolded him and yanked him inside the home. There was no thank
you. There was no appreciation for not calling Children's Aid. She didn't even
look at me as she slammed the door closed in my face. Since then, she walks by
me as if I am not even there. The boy runs quickly away whenever he sees me or
my partner. She is the one thing about this neighbourhood that bothers me the
most. I would also call her a bitch but I think it goes deeper than that. I
don't even believe she needs to get laid properly, although if you see her
husband you might assume so. I don't know if its homophobia or the proverbial stick rammed up her butt but one time I saw her yawn and you could see it.
You can be
as tolerant as Gandhi and as empathetic as the Christ, but something always preys
on one's last nerve. I have to admit that while I have few biases towards the
population in general, I can't stand ugly people. I don't mean disabled or
physically challenged people. I do not mean people who do not meet conventional
standards of beauty. There are certain people who just make you cringe. Just
being near them is more than enough for discomfort. Often, any stick has
completely disappeared. They have it all. Their body is ugly. Their face is
ugly. Their energy screams ugly. They are nasty for no reason and a grimace in
the most natural of ways. American uglies all voted for Trump. More often than
not, you can see them coming. Their aura is more mud than welcoming bright.
Everything about them cries out asshole. It seems their mission to shit on
everyone else's day. Misery seems to love company. They try hard to make it so.
Each moment you spend near them is an experiment in terror. They make you want
to scream out as you punch them in the fucking face. Grrrrr. I try my best to
rise above. I don't mean to interact with them but often I am given little
choice. If you want to seek one out, all you have to do is go to your friendly
neighbourhood Wal-Mart.
I noticed
his ass on the way into the store. For a moment, I thought he was a Muppet. At
this time, I failed to notice the tree growing out of his crack. Mr. Lumpy, as
I have come to know him, slowly disappeared into the Christmas displays. I
headed towards the good fruit. We met up again in the electronics section. I
saw what I wanted right away and moved towards the display. I had to say
"excuse me" when he would not get out of my way. It was his left
thigh that really stood like a huge barrier. He looked at me like he was rabid,
then he moved directly into my path. When he bent over to reach whatever he was
trying to reach, I experienced the last super moon of 2016. I shouldn't make
fun. There was just that something about him that made me feel like he was
trying to piss me off. His energy was dark and foreboding. His posture, then
his derrière, both told tales about him. I could feel the hate flow from him as
his right boob cascaded down his torso. His face was spotty. His hair unkempt. He
didn't look happy and he didn't seem happy. This has little to do with how you
treat other people in public. At one point, he even grunted at me as I stood
trying to get to the goods. He still refused to move so I directed a few
"pardon me" at his backside. It was at this point that I recognized
the giant trunk hanging from his orifice. More often than not, I would have
told him off but in this case it would have done no good. Ugly like this is not
worth your time. No matter what you say, or how you say it, it means little in
the bigger scheme of things. I decided to go around his exterior wall and
re-approach when he had left the scene. I never try to pet a dog when it is growling
at me, especially if it's ugly and carries a stick.
Life is
trying at the best of times. I think all of us to some capacity recognize just
how connected we all really are and we all know, to degrees, that deep down
inside, existence is hard for everyone. We all should remove the log from our
own butt before we go pulling branches from anybody else's. It might get messy
but it needs to be done. We are all guilty of such tunnel vision. We think only
of ourselves, with little recognition of others, let alone consideration.
Something in this modern day has turned us all into fiends who sit worshipping
our own image in a river. It's not always a pretty picture. Ugly is as ugly
does. Now, I can be just as big of an asshole as anyone else can. I get on
other people's last nerve. I hate and I have much rage. At times, I smile at my
own reflection. It's the same story for all of us, I imagine. Somehow we all seem
to have something poking out of our hole. You can jiggle it if you don't
remember.
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