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September 24, 2003

Washing my hands

I think that most of us, at least many people that I know, assume that when we reach a certain age in life, certain levels of decorum and/or courtesy become standard. This is not to say that we can't still act like children or assholes, or both, on occasion. We know we can, and have, many times. But even with this, one assumes that after middle-school the days of petty, unprovoked hostility and confrontation are over.

"You can't come to my birthday party anymore,"
The public birthday party disinvitation, ahh yes. Perhaps we've finally moved past all that.

Perhaps not.

I have recently been totally shocked (saddened, appalled, whathaveyou) by the level of mean-spirited, no-balls childishness that I have witnessed of late. A "grown up person" as old or older than most of you reading this, who is acting like, at the very best, a child.

He's the toddler we all hate, the one who lies indulgently screaming on the Supermarket floor while his mortified mother tries to retain her dignity and fend off accusatory looks from childless shoppers who assume she's a killer.

He's the defensive ugly kid in preschool who punches people for no reason, steals all the crayons, and tattles on everyone just for attention.

He's the simpering, sniveling, grade-school nuisance with a whining voice so shrill and constant that even the most patient of teachers would claw their own eyes out for an excuse to get away. He's the one whose continuous, painful, sing-song complaints can pierce walls.

He's the weasely double-agent who can't be trusted as far as he can be thrown, insecurity so twisting his behavior and appearance that he looks more like a rodent than a man.

And this "spineless little fraction of a man" - to quote a film, goes around pretending that he's the shit everyone's after, completely unaware of his hugely flawed personal character. I've heard that the stupidest people are the ones who have NO idea how stupid they are. They think they're geniuses, which makes them even scarier. Oh the power of denial.

Anyway, the point is: I am over it. I will no longer let this greasy, parasitic individual affect my life, nor will I allow my feelings to be hurt by his selfishness. I've experienced enough of his crap to know that no matter how old he his, or how many more years go by, he will never really be a man. More than anything, I feel sad about his false and pathetic existence. This does not mean that when I achieve whatever modicum of success I am striving for, and he is still living in a cave, that I won't feel totally vindicated. It doesn't mean that I wouldn't dance on his grave in a red dress (no, I wouldn't ... probably), but it does mean that he can fuck off and find someone else to try and hurt.

No that you will ever see this, but you know who you are, and I feel sorry for you...
...you enormous, enormous pussy.

Posted by kati at September 24, 2003 05:03 PM

Comments

Posted by: robyn at September 24, 2003 06:18 PM

Posted by: cody at September 24, 2003 07:07 PM