This isn't my bit, to be very fair the
topic of this blog came from Irish comedian David O'Doherty who does
a similar thing most years called 'My Beefs'. Albeit with a cheap
casio keyboard and as part of a comedy routine, which is kind of
genius in that it naturally breeds fresh material and allows him to
vent simultaneously. As anger is something I routinely choke down and
which, in turn, makes me an arsehole in other elements of my life. I
am hoping an annual blog will likewise allow me to vent and produce,
at the least, some readable writing. I initially altered the title to
throw you off its origin, between that and the first word in the
piece I thought better of it. Either way, this is a textual
incarnation of my yearly pressure valve being gloriously released all
over your face, neck and chest. Feel it, live it and hit me with some
of your own.
The Government.
I know, I know. But between the fuck
the poor mythos of the budget and the fat feet in the mouths since
then has really signalled the high-water mark of low thought. It
really seems a government hell bent on taking conservative to the
point of reversing progress and trying to stifle progress that was
made many years ago and which are the last vestiges of what makes
Australia even barely 'great' on the world scale. Poor people don't
have cars, abortion causes breast cancer and coal is good for
humanity. Take your own pick, but know that we have a thousand
monkeys in control and we are well off Dickens.
Asshole Drivers.
If this were not the first, this item
would make My Gripes each year. The criteria isn't overly stringent;
you don't need to be a hoon, nor drive like an elderly person, you
don't need to be indecisive, nor do you need to have a feeling of
self importance. Essentially you need to be one of those who has no
consideration to other people driving.
So long as you can hold a straight
line, turn corners and, if you are one of those showy folks, change
gears there is not a great deal to the act of driving itself. What is
more challenging is driving around others. I am, naturally, not
talking of L Platers. But those who know how to drive? For the most,
fuck you.
Are you self involved? The odds that
you comprehended the question of someone else without immediately
registering the first two words means, probably yes. Which makes you
a bad driver and an even shittier person. Cut me off if need be, you
will anyway, as I fully understand wherever you are going in your BMW
is much more important than where I am going in my early 90s Toyota.
I am poor and not meant to be driving anyway. Just know, from me and
the hundreds of other early 90s Toyota drivers, we sincerely hope
your mothers all choke on the bit-off dicks of your fathers.
Internet Based Acronym Speakers.
Again this is the first, but it has
bugged me this year. Bugged me to a degree of relentless homicidal
rage that is best expressed on an almost reader-less blog. We all
understand that when someone LOLs they, likely, aren't laughing out
loud. Likewise when they ROFL or when they are LMAO...ing they aren't
really doing that.
But they are. There are a great many
people saying LOL at amusing things rather than, like a civilised
human being, expressing their humour with loud, irritating caws. To
say LOL rather than type it may seem like a small jump, but the
implications are enormous.
For the first, you are raping an
unwilling acronym. With no warning, going in dry as a desert sandal.
LOL was a happy little guy, existing on phones and in between tabs of
porn and torrent or streaming sites. But you dragged him out, nails
clawing at the only world he has known, to impress people. What a
radical you are, that is a step above, bravo the sheer brass balls it
must've taken to use an internet word as a real and bonafide piece of
English. I can tell you one thing, if there was a step beyond cool, a
step beyond fashion; you, good sir have reached it.
For the second, you are using the word
to describe something unseen. LOL and his friends were happy without
your vocal intervention. But to LOL at something amusing in old
people life is wrenching the wizard from behind the curtain. I know
you aren't Laughing Out Loud, I can see you dumb ass.
Ponytail on Top Hairdos.
These men, yes men, are war criminals.
Outrageous hair is certainly nothing new, though each generation
thinks they can reinvent it to be unique and to piss people off. So
these piss-ants who think they are reinventing the wheel by shaving
where bald people have hair and growing the top bit into a bald-guy
pony tail are...half right.
There are forty million of them at my
university and in my city, and each thinks they are really shaking
shit up. A long-haired guy who is also actually short-haired? Help my
brain work it out?
The preceding is petty. I am not fan
of this cut, don't get me wrong, but I am no fan of mullets either,
or mohawks or bangs really. The difference is, the top-mounted pony
tail is usually mounted to total fuckwits.
This is the cut they should give you
when you go to the barber and ask for a 'Pretentious Cunt' or a 'I
want to annoy everyone I know by acting like I am a heavy-hitter in
the scene with advanced ideas, but really I am a guy who raised cows
and had a balanced and wholesome family life. But I changed my name
and abandoned all my previous friends and dodge them in public for
whole-grain rice, which even cool places rarely have'.
This Thing.
Store Starers.
'Is he gonna buy something?'. To be
fair, probably not. It is something I come across each time I walk
into a fancy or even half-fancy store. Don't get me wrong, I tear it
up in K-Mart. There is no risk there, on their end or mine. But I run
into that look more than I would like. I am no window shopper and
wouldn't go in to a shop I didn't have the money for. But appearance
is everything and I simply don't look high-class enough to buy their
luxurious items.
I would think it is in my neurotic
head, but for the fact that I observe the looks of the store keepers
when wealthy housewives rock in (I shop where a lot of ladies do) a
glance and barely more. But I am a theif because I am an overweight,
6'3 male with awful skin. Certainly not the usual clientele.
But the real fun begins when I buy
something. Sometimes I buy something just to watch the apologies
fall. I am not vindictive and I shan't blame people for doing their
jobs. But I am not a second class citizen, though I do raise cows and
have a balanced and wholesome family life.
These people can sit on it, eat a
dick, to the moon or whatever TV reference works. These are my Gripes
for 2014.
NP.
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