Thursday 26 May 2011

Squid Pro Roe

A few things have made me cross over the last few days. I was pondering them on my day off today, and came to the conclusion that they can all be explained away in the same way. There are two main things which have made me cross and they both fall under the umberella of 'people are idiots.'

First thing: Old people.

On Monday I went to the gym as usual. I only had a short time to go there and was in a hurry. There was, of course, a queue. One day my gym will join the rest of us in the 21st century and get a machine which people can use to scan themselves in and out of the building. Until that day you need to hand your card to one of the two people on reception who will let you in. My lack of time and the line of people had made me more irritated than is generally healthy, but nonetheless I joined the back. I finally get to the front and continue to patiently wait. A receptionist finally becomes free and before I can take a step forward some old man (maybe 60) breezes past me and the eight people behind me and checks himself through with the women. I don't think I've ever been more angry. I stomped up behind him saying nothing, just standing there fizzing in silent rage. He sees me and says, “Oh, were you next? I thought that was a separate line for the pool...” Do I look like I'm waiting for the under 5 swimming session, you fucking moron?! What on Earth could possibly make you think that?! I said none of this, of course.  I simply said, “Yeah, OK” and thought I'd leave it there. Up until this point I'd handled the situation quite calmly. Then he gave me an indifferent shrug, sort of rolled his eyes and walked away saying nothing more. It was at the point of the shrug that the mental dam we all have, which holds back the things we know we shouldn't say, broke and a resevoire of pure rage was suddenly released, submerging the quite town of Pleasantville below, and drowning the whole population. “Twat!” He heard me. At the time, I was glad to have pointed out what a social-retard he was being, and it was nice to vent. In retrospect, swearing at someone who I see on a weekly basis is probably a bad thing.

Similarly, I was in the bank last week; another day another queue. You expect lines at the bank. I was prepared for it, I wasn't annoyed. I got to the cashier and she started fingering through the stuff I'd handed to her. To my left were an old couple who had been at that desk for as long as I'd been queuing up – say 10 minutes. They were asking endless questions about every product this bank sold; questions which could have been answered with a leaflet. But no, the bitch just went on, and on, and on. Eventually her husband turns around and sees the monstrous queue which they've caused and tells his wife they should be going because they're holding up other people. She responds by snapping, “I've had to stand in enough queues in my life, so now they can.” This is a matter of common courtesy you silly old bint. Surviving to the point where you become a social burden is not a passport to an old-age of being a sociopathic, vicious, old biddy.

This is essentially why old people get mugged all the time. It's not because they're frail, it's not because they're weak, it's not because they carry a lot of cash, it's because they're assholes.

In much the same vein as the shrugging, indifferent man at the gym, I believe the systemic problem to be this: it reminded me of something said by a girl I once worked with (if you've ever had a job dealing with the public, you will know this to be true). “Why do old people always act like you owe them something?” Having stood in a lot of lines for your life does not grant you the title of Queen of the Queue, and a carte blanche to behave like a dick. In a way I can see why they might have this attitude. They begat the generation which currently supports them. Without the old people, our parents wouldn't be here and, by extension, our generation wouldn't. Yes, without them we wouldn't be alive, but that doesn't mean we owe them our lives. They're still alive largely because of the medical advancements afforded to them by their children, but that doesn't mean that their lives then belong to their children. Quid pro quo isn't applicable in a situation where the initial deed done is for the benefit of the first party. Look Grandma, we didn't ask to be born. That was your decision. Now wind your neck in, and stop acting like a spoilt child.

(Plus they drive too slowly and it makes me want to punch them in the throat).

Second thing: stupidity.

Today has been my only day off for a while, and as always I made a list of stuff I needed to get done. Seriously, things just aren't worth doing unless they're on a list. Anyways, I'd scheduled some time to sit and watch TV at my mum's house, in between picking up my mail and playing with the cat (both of which were also on the list). Unfortunately I hadn't thought it through properly and chose a time when there was nothing worth watching. The Paralympic World Cup kept me amused for 15 minutes while I watched men with varying degrees of paralysis slide around on their asses playing Volleyball. Then I watched 10 minutes of a Top Gear episode that I'd already seen, before I fell upon 'Loose Women'.  For my North American chums 'Loose Women' is the British version of 'The View'. For everyone else, it's a show comprised mainly of menopausal women, discussing topics they have zero expertise in, punctuated with obvious and poorly delivered double-entendres every other sentence. Today's topic of conversation was plastic surgery. After much clucking, they eventually concluded that the real problem was with magazines and TV etc, ruining people's self-image, which is then cashed in on by the cosmetics industries. The debate was finished off by Carol McDrywomb saying something along the lines of, “... and these women's low self esteem is then exploited by costmetic surgeons and beauty products” to a round of rapturous applause from the 300 also-past-their-prime audience members. Not a dry seat in the house.

Of course they've been exploited you stupid female! That's the very nature of capitalism. Whether or not someone else has caused your insecurity is irrelevant. It's your insecurity. It's your body that's falling to pieces. It's your problem to deal with. Stop complaining and start taking some responsibility. To add to all this, it is always on this kind of show where they hark on about losing traditions and customs which used to be part of the national fabric. The decline in communities and community spirit, for example. The rise in yob behaviour. Always complaining about the fact that small businesses are shutting down while at the same time complaining about the extortionate price of food and fuel. You idiots can't have it both ways. (I was about to explicate that reasoning for you, but if you don't understand it already then you probably never will. And we probably shouldn't be friends any more. Now go write yourself a little note to remind yourself to keep breathing).

It makes me sad that people like that can get on TV. It should amuse me but it doesn't. It's like people who read the Daily Mail. The stuff they come out with is the most amazing rubbish, but I know people reading it and absorbing every word like it was fact. In the same way that all the people in the audience are inanely clapping away at the most appalling drivel like a well trained circus seal, there are people all over the place watching this trash, believing it to be the most profound thing they've ever heard, while they sit on their asses stealing my oxygen.

… rant over.

Ok, so I've covered the old, the menopausal and the stupid. For a sense of demographic symmetry I should probably trash a few other groups too.

Umm, yeah. Those lesbians and blacks can fuck right off too! Dickheads.



Thursday 12 May 2011

Jolly Blog 6 - Events

Lots of little things gone on over the past few weeks. There was, of course, April 20th, or 4:20. An important day for all of us I think. I hope you all had as much fun as I did celebrating Hitler's birthday.

Then there was that wedding thing. Fortunately I was working so I missed the whole tiresome event and instead earned a shit-ton of money. I have a care-less attitude about many things, but Jesus was that thing over-hyped. My sisters actually camped overnight so that they could secure a good spot on the route they drove down. I'm so ashamed to share genetic material with people who would do that. The new South Park does a lovely job taking the piss out of it – you should definitely watch it.  Link here.

In other news, for the first time in a long time I've actually done summink! 'Citing! Some of you will know him, the rest of you should count you blessings that you don't, but me mate, Ed, came over yesterday and we had ourselves a little jolly in Salisbury.

It's been a long time since I've been that drunk and obviously I can remember very little of it – as is tradition. Started out in the local Weatherspoons. For those of you who aren't familiar, Weatherspoons is a pub chain in the UK known for being a bit scummy but, more importantly, cheap. I spent most of the time there being bullied by my company for being different *read: awesome* – although I happen to know it's actually because they're threatened by my grace and intellect and couldn't think of a better way to vent their frustration. From there we went to some random bar, the details of which are irrelevant. Here are just a few of the things that happened. At some point I was caught dribbling on the bar. I'm not sure why, but anecdotal evidence suggests it may have been a reaction to tequila. I also tried, and failed, to hook up with a girl from work – I wish I could say the dribbling happened first so I could use that as an excuse for my failure, but I don't think it did. At another stage Ed was dancing with this same girl. I saw this happening and obviously it made me angry, so like a child having a tantrum I stormed over and cut in.  You may assume I did this so I could dance with the girl.  No.  Apparently I wanted a tender moment with Edward.  A few things going on there for his absent girlfriend to be worried about. Back at my house I had set up an air-bed for Edward to sleep on. He went to the bathroom and by the time he came back I was lying on the air-bed and his sleeping bag was on my bed. Why? Apparently because, “You're a guest; you deserve maximum comfort!”

It was a very messy night, and once again I escaped serious injury, which I'm surprised about for two reasons. 1) Some of you may have noticed, but I can be a bit of a dick when I've been drinking, and I'm long overdue for a karmic injury of some kind. And 2) There's a lot of stab-happy people in my town. A guy in a wheelchair got his head kicked in the other day by some of the many lunatics I share this dump with.  Proof. It's only a matter of time until I go drinking, come accross one of these people, they mispronounce something, I helpfully point out their ignorance and wake up in hospital.  Nonetheless, I'm still here and live to drink another day.

In half-marathon news, I still haven't made a decision about which charity to support for me half marathon.  I think it's gotta be the spastics, but we'll see.  Suggestions still welcome.

Hope all's good with you all.  If not, then at least I hope things could be worse. 

Later, idiots.

Joe