Archive for January, 2016

Stop.

January 31st, 2016

There are many, many things that people need to stop doing. Every day and whenever I go, I’m bombarded by annoying/meaningless words and actions that leave me wishing that every country in possession of nuclear missiles would send them off all at once. If I had the power to do so, I’d force every single person in the world to stop what they’re doing immediately and read this article and follow it to the letter. The penalty for not doing so would be being locked in a closet with Whoopi Goldberg while listening to Enya and being force-fed Ritz crackers chewed up and spat out by Macauley Culkin. This would continue until said violator complied with the following guidelines.

The first thing that needs to stop as of this instant is people thinking they’re part of a performance by clapping along to it. I fucking hate it when people at musical performances stand up and all start rhythmically clapping together, trying in vain to establish some kind of beat or be in time with the pacing of whatever is being played. Your ass isn’t on the stage and nobody paid to see you or hear you. Just sit down and shut up. In doing so you’ll be every bit as much of a participant and every bit as significant as you were had you been clapping in time to the music. You’ll just be less annoying and much safer from the rage of ineffectual fat 30-something Mongolians.

The other time when people tend to do this is if they’re somewhere (usually in a talk show audience) and one of the people on stage starts a stripping performance. They won’t strip faster if you clap. They won’t strip more fully if you clap. I noticed this trend back in the 90s when there used to be strippers all the time on Jerry Springer. This was back in the days before Janet Jackson’s almost-nipple slip caused the FCC to make all of television about as sexually arousing as emptying a mouse trap. I hated it then and I hated it now. The only clapping I want to hear when a woman is stripping is booty clapping.

While I’m at it, let me remind you that you are not Neil Diamond. Singing along with the “ba ba ba” in Sweet Caroline will not turn you into Neil Diamond. This is the number one reason why I never go to Red Sox games. Well that and the fact that I don’t give a rat’s ass about the Red Sox. If I were Neil Diamond, I’d immediately halt my performance when someone joined in on the chorus. I’d demand that security remove them from the stadium/concert venue and use the maximum level of force possible. Nobody should ever be allowed to sing at a baseball game anyway. Even during the 7th inning stretch they should just say “Take Me Out to the Ballgame” rather than singing it. It’s my dream in life to one day go to a baseball game  (preferably in Shitcago) and tape everyone’s mouth shut. That would kick ass.

Another thing people need to stop doing is using the expression “objectification”. Sure, there are assholes out there who use people solely for sex and consider them to have no worth outside of that realm. However, there’s a big difference between that and simply stating that someone is attractive. The PC police don’t seem to think there’s a difference though. If by saying I find a woman to be attractive is objectification, then apparently I’m normally only attracted to inanimate objects. What do you think I fuck, cuckoo clocks? I’m not quite that desperate, at least at this point in time. I guess it could work though if you removed the bird and were careful not to get any splinters. If you’re female, you can replace the bird with a dildo. You’ll have a pretty good time when the clock strikes 12.

The objectification accusation is often quite hypocritical. I’ve had people show me pictures of women who they claimed were hot. I’d also say they were hot at a later point and then be accused of treating said woman as an object. This has happened more times and with more different people than I can remember. That’s saying a lot, because I can remember exactly what I was doing on this date and at this time in 1989. In case you care, I was repeatedly counting the egg holding spaces in a torn up egg carton until my mother grabbed it and threw it out of the room. You probably don’t care about that, but now you know it anyway.

You know what else pisses me the fuck off? When people post Facebook statuses about being at home and watching Netflix. I hate Netflix more than life itself. I think the only thing I hate more than Netflix is people who use it and brag to every single person they can find  about the fact that they do not own a TV. You aren’t impressing anyone. On any given night, I can expect to see at least 20-30 statuses about people being in their pajamas, eating ice cream, and watching Netflix. The same goes for watching Doctor Who, Breaking Bad, Mad Men, How I Met Your Mother, or Orange is the New Black. I don’t give two fucks what anyone is watching unless it’s porn or 80s commercials. When people post these statuses, do they think they’re in such a sublime state of heaven on Earth that they believe they’ll make everyone else jealous? When I go to bed each night, I’m full of regrets, frustrations, and unmet goals and desires. Missing out on Netflix, pajamas, and ice cream are not among them. From now on, keep it to yourself. If you can’t do that, then just keep on eating your shitty ice cream until your fingers are so fat you can’t type anymore.

Deli workers need to stop offering slices of cheese to kids who come in with their parents. Cheese needs to be discontinued altogether, but instead it’s more omnipresent now than ever before. You can walk down an aisle in any grocery store and see nearly a whole aisle dedicated to macaroni and cheese. I know the dairy and grain diet is in place to keep us all docile and complacent so we’ll stop standing up to those who grease the pumps in the world, but fuck it anyway. It goes against the health nazi movement, so I don’t know why parents keep buying it. They’re probably just too lazy and stupid to be able to make anything else. The even lazier ones can’t even be bothered to say the whole name. They have to call it “mac and cheese.” Never call it that or give it to your kids unless you want them to turn out like Luke Gatti. If you don’t know who that is, he’s the spoiled little shit in this video. Did you know that he didn’t get any jail time, or even anything added to his permanent record? He only received probation (along with accelerated rehabilitation, which, after the probation is completed, will expunge the crime from his record), despite the fact that this isn’t the first time he’s done something like this. Bullshit.

I guess I went a bit off topic there, but now I’ll get back to the point I was making. I’ve worked in a deli before and I’ve patronized many others. One common link among nearly all of them is if one of the customers has some snot nosed brat with them, the workers will hand the kid a slice of cheese. You may be pleasing the parents and shutting up the kid for a minute, but you’re spreading the disease that is cheese. If you feel like you have to offer a kid something, give them a slice of prosciutto or pastrami. On second thought, fuck that. Give the prosciutto and pastrami to me. I’m just as pitiful as the average 7 year old and have accomplished less in my lifetime. I need it more than they do, so fork it over.

 

 

 

 

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