Judgment, Smudgment

Obviously, the idiot on the far right wasn't even paying attention to the performance, and the asshat next to her has a painful hemorrhoid that makes him a dick.

So I was in Wal Mart today—which anyone who knows me will hardly believe because I spend such a small percentage of my time in Wal Mart (i.e., 99.3%)—and this husband and wife were waiting at the photo developing counter while I staggered up to return a wrong-size fitted sheet in the adjacent customer-service area. First, the wife scanned me from head to toe with a look on her face that clearly indicated she had recently soiled herself and was just now getting a whiff. Then she elbowed her husband and, still sneering my way, said something under her probably ass-scented breath that made him turn and look at me. And he was a real looker too. Lush, salt-and-pepper hair. All three of them. Tall and dark. In an ethnic Hobbit sort of way. She’s a very lucky bitc…woman.

Fortunately for him, he noticed that I noticed the two of them in their judgment, so he rapidly turned crimson and stopped in mid-comment. Both of them appeared momentarily flustered and then turned their backs, presumably to talk with the photo employee who wasn’t there yet. I was so shocked that I’d just been dissed by these two fellow Wal Marters that I laughed heartily and tsked in their general direction. Then I loudly recounted the incident to my husband and then to my daughter so that anyone in the vicinity of my voice (i.e., in Indiana) could experience vicariously the judgment to which I’d just been subjected.

And the whole sordid event got me thinking. What judgmental assholes! First of all, who even gets photos developed anymore? Haven't you fuckers heard of digital cameras? Join us in the 21st century, dick-suckers!

Second, who the fuck in Wal Mart has any business judging anyone else in the entire world? Wal Mart shoppers are poor and have visible ass-cracks. I should know because I have 27 dollars in the bank, and my jeans tend to inch down in the back when I ride on those motorized carts that I have to use since my unfortunate fall in a big box store that shall remain nameless.

Third, I have seen enough judgmental bullshit in connection with my mentally ill daughter whose medications have caused her to gain over 100 pounds in the past year to last until we work our way through the goddamned Mayan calendar again. Let me tell you, one of the most awesome things a person can ever do is to snigger condescendingly and sling personal insults at my challenged child. That’s because I have a fucking claw hammer I haven’t really broken in quite yet.

But you know, I just hate judgmental assholes because they don’t realize the obvious: they are fucking smears of wormy dogshit on a bathroom floor in a really scuzzy bar in some sleazy part of a drug-infested and lawless Mexican town. Judgmental assholes think that physical attractiveness or athletic prowess or a fat wallet and North Face ® fleece make them something. The truth is that NO ONE is anything. We are all just flawed, struggling pieces of a big puzzle trying to get back together. All of the pieces are necessary to complete the picture, and no piece is any more important than any other. Even you corner pieces, so shut the fuck up. As for you, you sorry-assed, sack-nuzzling, shit-licking mother fuckers at the Wal Mart photo developing stand, keep your fucking worthless judgment to yourselves.

 

Doomsday is for Dumbshits.

Despite all credible evidence to the contrary and all the promised but failed Armageddons, far too many fuck-ups still hang on to the idea that the world as we know it will end on December 21, 2012, because the Mayan calendar ends on that date. The kind of people who buy that logic also believe that they have money in the bank as long as they still have checks left.

It’s true that doomsday happens every day for some people because they fail to run fast enough across the train tracks when a locomotive is coming, or they drown in their own alcohol-induced vomit puddle, or they fall into a wood chipper. Or they happen to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, which I guess would definitely include the wood chipper. Accidents happen. Disease happens. Murder happens. Natural disasters happen. Immortality was never part of our package, no matter how convincing Betty White is. (Happy 90^th, Betty! Mwah.) But just because we are all going to die at some point does NOT mean that it’s going to be in some cosmic cataclysm.

Any large heavenly body hurtling towards Earth would be obscenely visible by now. And global warming will take decades to destroy our planet, but it probably won’t ever even happen because so many of you have switched to green products to clean your kitchen and bath. And even if China does take over America after we go bankrupt any day now, the Commies will only kill us. The planet will still be intact. Just a lot redder. And pfffttt. Just plain forget about aliens wiping us out. What would be the incentive? If they annihilate Earth, they won’t have anywhere to land their fucking saucers.

Do you know how many times people have believed certain events spelled the end of our great run here, but the shit amounted to zip? At least two that I can name right off the top of my head. First, despite the fact that most pretarded racist fucksniffers took time out of impregnating their offspring to proclaim otherwise, the world did not end when Obama moved into the White House. Suh-nap, Nazis! And, for God’s sake, that motherfucking Charlie Sheen has a new show coming out, and still no Apocalypse. So I am pretty sure we’re safe.

Why do people hang on to such crazy notions? Do they secretly wish for something earth-shattering to change the trajectory of mankind? Do they really believe we humans have so injured our home that we don’t deserve to be here anymore? Do they look at newborns and puppies and sunrises and Ryan Gosling and STILL imagine a wrathful God who would create such beauty and then wipe it out? What the fuck is wrong with people?

There is no more likelihood that this world is going to end on December 21 than there is that Trump will be elected president in November. There is no more of a chance that suddenly “good” people will vanish into Heaven, and bodies will rise from their graves toward the sky than there is that Charlie Sheen’s new show will be a hit. I mean, come on! The only way that doomsday is ever going to occur is if the trees start whispering suicidal ideologies through the air that infect us all, one-by-one, until we all lie down in front of running riding mowers. And motherfucking trees can’t even fucking talk. So, yeah. Again, I’m pretty sure we’re safe. If history and Hollywood summer blockbusters are any indicator, we will know in advance if something truly threatens our existence lonnnnnng befo