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Welcome, Whiners!
Are you tired of hearing, "Quit yer bitchin'?" Goood. You've come to the right place. Whiners, moaners, complainers, venters, and crybabies are all welcome and invited. No matter how petty and immature and insignificant your rant, you now have a place to post it. Or you can just enjoy my daily grousing. Yay. Let the bitching begin.

Wednesday, April 20, 2011

Some People SUCK.

thewizofodds.com

Oh, good GOD. People are such inconceivable fucktards sometimes. I swear I felt like an Iraqi village today, all besieged and molested. First, this guy who obviously has a wee little peepee cuts me off on Interstate 75 lest I arrive three-point-six fricking seconds ahead of him at the light at the end of the off-ramp.

Then, once I make it to a parking spot after following an idiot on the other end of the speed spectrum who insists upon taking seven hours to go over each of the four-hundred speed bumps in the school lot, I watch this guy light up a cancer stick right in front of the sign that says, NO SMOKING: Because we care. My ASS. The campus security guys smoke right there all the time! And this jerk today happens to also have those preposterous low, low riding jeans puddled around his ankles. What is the point of those? Don’t these nimrods realize they look like they’re walking around in a Depends®-sized shit-diaper?

But then! The best thing EVER happens. I wheeze through the asshole’s wall of smoke and head to the elevator, which is at the far end of a third-floor breezeway. The lift door opens, and out steps a young woman…with a cigarette to her goddamned lips. She whuffs out a copious cloud of the second-hand variety and glares at me with her super intelligent eyes and her “I love humanity” attitude. No matter that it is against the fucking law to smoke here and that there are five billion signs with the little red slash through the lit cigarette. Why, why wasn’t I brave enough to push her ass over the rail? She slipped on her sliminess, officer.

After class, I find myself forced to go to my favorite place, Wal-Mart, home of vraiment chic people with whom I want to have wine and cheese. Vexing experiences today at Wally World! I turn a corner in the sock section only to run into a buggy that some slumbag has left blocking the aisle. In it are the desecrated remains of some high-fat, processed food products. That’s stealing, slumbag! And I can’t even express without apoplexy the water buffalo who barks into a cell phone the entire time it is in line. It does not acknowledge the cashier or the fact that it is not at home in its mudbog. I. DO. NOT. UNDERSTAND. PEOPLE. The upside is that nothing is bad enough that a few good funerals won’t take care of it.

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  3. Elane

    I repeat (although perhaps it wasn't here): I blame the idiocy you describe not on genes, but on bad parenting and bad teaching. Perhaps more, however, on bad teaching, because parents (unfortunately) earned that vaunted distinction by "doing the monster with two backs." They don't even need a license to do it, the kind we need just to legally drive cars! They just "pass on" the "life-skills" they inherited from THEIR parents (and, ultimately, grand-parents, and so on...): lack of civility and consciousness and conscientiousness and knowledge and attention to the world around them and desire to play in the sandbox fairly and intelligently.

    But teachers! They had to earn LICENSES to impart their misinformation and insensitivity and absence of awareness and clumsy arrogance to future generations who have the misfortune of encountering them. The attitude, "Do it (believe it, accept it, obey it) because I SAID so" seems to dominate academia. Not because it's correct or fair or earned or justified or merited or anything like that. But simply because "I'm the teacher, and you're the student, stupid!" Would Socrates have said that? I doubt it.

    So in schools (at all levels) we get instructors who strut around promoting bad information and attitudes and unconsciousness and (yes!) wrong answers. Like the fellow writing teacher in my technical college who told me recently, "I had went by your room yesterday to find you, but you wasn't there." There's a role model for our writing students, don't you think? Or the public school teacher (could be 7th grade, could be 9th grade) who told 70% of my writing students (she gets around, apparently), "No, dummy! You can't start a sentence with 'Because'!" That's just absolutely WRONG, dammit. And thousands of young minds are living with that misconception as a result of her (or his) "bad information"! (For example, look at the sentence "Because you're late for our appointment, I won't be able to see you today." Perfectly good sentence, Mildred!)

    I could go on (and sometimes do); but not now.

    Hess

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