So, there’s that.
Here is a selection of my grievances. I encourage you all to leave a comment with one or more grievances, so that we may all pile on those who have wronged you, internet-style.
Doctor who laughed at me when I suggested my back pain might be a sign of something more serious than a muscle spasm and ejected me from the ER, having done no tests, with some prescription Aleve: you are a crappy doctor. I have herniated discs. Fuck you.
People in my neighborhood who think that it’s not necessary to pick up their dog’s poop when it’s rainy: the gentle rain will not wash away your Great Dane’s shit. It’s disgusting. Fuck you.
People who extorted thousands of dollars from us while buying our condo:
(a) I’m secretly a teeny bit glad that it ended up being decimated by Hurricane Sandy a month after you moved in.
(b) I hate you even more for forcing me to having that totally uncharitable, assholish thought.
Person who invented Fireball cinnamon-flavored whiskey: It is far too easy to shoot, and I cannot deal with a hangover the way I could 10 years ago. Fuck you. (Honorable mention: the person who introduced me to Fireball. You know who you are.)
People who “poke” their friends on Facebook: OH MY GOD, EVERYBODY HATES YOU. Stop it. Also, fuck you.
I feel better! You?
Today, we can add two more places to that list:
- Mexico, because of the fish tornadoes.
Canada, because of the baby-snatching eagles. Ed.: DEBUNKED! But Canada stays on the list, because they foisted Rush upon the world.
Here in New Jersey, we hold eagles to much higher standards of comportment.
I think I’ve figured out how to create consensus on the gun issue.
I has been brought to my attention that media darlings the Westboro Baptist Church will be demonstrating in Connecticut to make clear their view that the massacre of kindergarteners was willed by their god because of America’s increasing acceptance of same-sex marriage.
Frankly, I find it sloppy and lazy that any god would mete out its judgment in this way. Back in the day, god still had a pair and wasn’t afraid to rain down fire and brimstone when people started acting up; none of this trickle-down judgment bullshit.
Therefore, I assume that Westboro followers and their ilk will agree that a broad gun ban is acceptable: if god really wants to do some smiting, he should be able to get the job done sans mentally unstable man with gun. I mean, in the Old Testament book 2 Kings, god sends bears to rip 42 kids to bits just because they got a chuckle out of pointing out that some dude god liked was bald, to say nothing of Sodom and Gomorrah or the whole ark business. Clearly, god can take care of his shit.
So: we repeal the Second Amendment. Gun violence decreases dramatically. If god is serious about the gay marriage thing, he’s free to smite innocent children himself. If he decides to go for it, Westboro is proven right and we all grovel before Fred Phelps. If he doesn’t, no one has to die, and Jennifer and Jessica are free to register for that panini press at Crate & Barrel.
If this isn’t a win-win proposition, I don’t know what is.
In the meantime, I apologize to Connecticut, and the rest of the world, really, for the Westboro Baptist Church. We’re all kind of hoping they decide America is too far gone and try some Heaven’s Gate-style repentance.
We take every parent of a child who has been the victim of gun violence in the past 20 years, put them in a room together, and they get to decide what America’s gun control laws should be. Parents from Connecticut get two votes. And whatever they come up with, we just fucking DO IT.
We would call it the Federal Department of Enough With This “Guns Don’t Kill People” Bullshit. Once a law is enacted, I volunteer to personally travel the country prying the guns from the cold, dead hands of NRA members.
I have been to IKEA a great many times, and the most exciting thing that ever happens is when I get to the concession stand just as new cinnamon buns are coming out of the oven. Meanwhile, in Toronto, a fucking monkey in a posh winter coat was found alone wandering the Ikea.
- A paper coffee filter filled with spent coffee grounds
- My favorite spatula
- A handful of Ricola cough drops (original flavor)
- His own foot
I guess I should just be happy that he unwrapped the cough drops first. I expect that when I wake up tomorrow, he’ll have opened the fridge and re-heated the leftover General Tso’s chicken.