I rant. My inner gorilla stirs at the stupidity of others. I grow irritated with the bloodless shenanigans of asshats.
Why do I let my blood pressure climb over the colossal stupidity of others?
Because I give a fuck, that's why.
One might ask why I give two drips of ball-sweat?
Because if allowed to run rampant, asshattery will underwhelm all things. Stupidity acts on society like a solvent, eroding all reason.
Perhaps a personal example:
The other day I was riding in. As I rode along the on-ramp, a largish chunk of styrofoam blew in my way. I narrowly avoided it. There was no telling what it might do if I tried to ride over it.
A mile down the road, another piece, this one more easily avoided.
Three miles more, another, this one the size of my rather large cranium. Not so easy to avoid, coming as it did from behind a minivan.
Two more miles, a chunk or two more, this time added to by a stretch of cardboard. Ahead, I see a small red pickup truck. Shit is blowing around in the back, cardboard and the like.
I think, perhaps, this is the person who does not know they have a loose load in their bed. Perhaps, I reason, they are unaware that the cover must have slipped back from their load. I shall try and catch up, let them know dangerous and expensive things are falling from the back of his vehicle.
My reasoning that the individual is merely a hapless victim of circumstance begins to erode upon continued observation of their actions. The man, in his fully loaded tiny pickup, is driving well in excess of the speed limit, and I have a hard time catching up, as I have to dodge the shit flying from it. Indeed, it is not until we reach the tunnel and traffic backs up, twenty miles later, that I am able to catch up to the speeding litterer.
I pull up on his right, seeing the large quantity of loose styrene biker-killers barely held in place by two bungee cords crossing the bed. I advance to beside the cabin. I look inside. An Indian male driver with an i-Phone 4 in hand, glasses on, and earbuds jammed in both ears looks back.
I gesture for him to roll down his window. He does.
I yell to him that he has littered a string of styrene land mines along his path, that he needs to pull over and secure his load.
He rolls the window up. My Inner Gorilla body-checks the gates of his prison, nearly making my eyes explode from my head.
We are traveling at a walking pace, a difficult feat of clutch control for a moto rider without a raging Gorilla in his mind.
I bang on his window.
He starts to shuffle through his iPhone.
Had I my service weapon and cuffs, I would have shown him my star and ordered him to the side of the road. No, I was unequipped to take police action, and therefore couldn't safely take him on as anything more than a private citizen.
I bang harder on the window, my Inner Gorilla barely held in check.
He continues to act as if I am not there. Fucking pussy. My Inner Gorilla howls in impotent rage. I curse, swear, and then fall back, wishing I had a cigarette to drop in his bed. He would surely pay attention when his shit caught fire. My Inner Gorilla wishes for a molotov cocktail.
Instead of the contemplated mayhem, I get his plate.
I ride on. I look for some CHP. No dice. I even check their favored duck blind. No love.
Shit.
I go to work, run the plate. It's still registered to the tow yard where the asshat bought it.
So, nothing else I can do.
So. You might be tempted to ask what the above has to do with my point.
Well, here it is:
Never mind that the litter he left across twenty five miles of roadway will take decades to dissolve into the background of shit we are already wading through.
More important to me specifically is that had I been injured or killed by the debris left behind, my family would have lost their primary wage-earner, and because it would have been seen as a single-vehicle accident, most likely would not have seen a pay-out commensurate with what they were denied.
My wife would surely soldier on, but my child would grow up without her father.
The social fabric of my family would be dissolved. Those who like my company would be denied it.
And even thinking within the least extreme extrapolation on what this asshat did; that of what actually followed these events: I am left so impatient with the average asshat that I barely make it through the rest of my day without biting the head from those whose only crime is to be a moron, or late, or just blind.
All because of the stupid asshattery of one fucktard too cowardly to pull over and cover his shit, a process that might have taken five minutes.
Stupid is the solvent that will destroy us all.
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Showing posts with label Asshattery. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Asshattery. Show all posts
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
Karma is a Bitch, Ain't It?
Today I had another riding experience I am now going to force you to hear about.
Experience one:
Heavy fog this morning, forty two degrees out. I ride.
There is an intersection that has two left turn lanes, one of which is almost always used as a U turn lane and is slow as molasses because of it. As the road drivers complete the U turn onto is narrow, drivers often edge into the other turn lane, making it slow as well. Knowing this, and needing gas, I decided to go straight, perform a legal U turn in the next intersection, and get gas at the station located at the far corner of the first intersection.
Trying to get through the first intersection, the truck in front of me slams on his brakes. I brake, come to a stop inches from the rear end of the truck in front of me. I look to see what emergency has caused my near-death experience. It appears someone does not want to go straight and wants everyone else in three lanes to stop so they can butt into line. I wish I was that important.
So, on we go. We get to the next intersection, I put my signal on and begin my U turn. Those of you who ride might know that U-Turns are not the simplest maneuver on a bike given the low speed and tight turn radius required, especially in slick conditions. I gave myself space. I performed the turn. The asshat who started behind me decides to make his U-turn inside my arc AND THEN FAILS TO MAKE IT IN ONE MOTION, requiring me to stop to avoid hitting him.
ASSHAT.
I gave him a flash or two of the lights, to let him know he was endangering my life with his impatience. He did not move his head or raise a hand to indicate, 'oops' or anything of that nature.
I rode up next to him where he was stopped at the light (Unlike me, he was not getting gas) and motioned for him to roll down his window. He stared.
That's right, he was a big man behind the wheel of his hurtling car, but unwilling to man up and face even the mild correction I might have directed at him. Such behavior causes me some stress, as I was somehow brought up to acknowledge mistakes I made and own my behavior, yet there seem to be so few people who do this.
I was satisfied to see him zoom off to get stuck in traffic. Later, after getting gas and getting on the freeway a little further down the road I saw his vehicle with its ambers on, broken down on the side of the road.
Had I been in a lane closer and could have done it safely, I might have stopped, offered to help, then told him, "Karma's a Bitch." and ridden off.
Perhaps fortunately (for my own karma, at least) I was unable to do so. My darker side does hope the fucker is still there, unable to get help and stewing in his own juices.
Experience one:
Heavy fog this morning, forty two degrees out. I ride.
There is an intersection that has two left turn lanes, one of which is almost always used as a U turn lane and is slow as molasses because of it. As the road drivers complete the U turn onto is narrow, drivers often edge into the other turn lane, making it slow as well. Knowing this, and needing gas, I decided to go straight, perform a legal U turn in the next intersection, and get gas at the station located at the far corner of the first intersection.
Trying to get through the first intersection, the truck in front of me slams on his brakes. I brake, come to a stop inches from the rear end of the truck in front of me. I look to see what emergency has caused my near-death experience. It appears someone does not want to go straight and wants everyone else in three lanes to stop so they can butt into line. I wish I was that important.
So, on we go. We get to the next intersection, I put my signal on and begin my U turn. Those of you who ride might know that U-Turns are not the simplest maneuver on a bike given the low speed and tight turn radius required, especially in slick conditions. I gave myself space. I performed the turn. The asshat who started behind me decides to make his U-turn inside my arc AND THEN FAILS TO MAKE IT IN ONE MOTION, requiring me to stop to avoid hitting him.
ASSHAT.
I gave him a flash or two of the lights, to let him know he was endangering my life with his impatience. He did not move his head or raise a hand to indicate, 'oops' or anything of that nature.
I rode up next to him where he was stopped at the light (Unlike me, he was not getting gas) and motioned for him to roll down his window. He stared.
That's right, he was a big man behind the wheel of his hurtling car, but unwilling to man up and face even the mild correction I might have directed at him. Such behavior causes me some stress, as I was somehow brought up to acknowledge mistakes I made and own my behavior, yet there seem to be so few people who do this.
I was satisfied to see him zoom off to get stuck in traffic. Later, after getting gas and getting on the freeway a little further down the road I saw his vehicle with its ambers on, broken down on the side of the road.
Had I been in a lane closer and could have done it safely, I might have stopped, offered to help, then told him, "Karma's a Bitch." and ridden off.
Perhaps fortunately (for my own karma, at least) I was unable to do so. My darker side does hope the fucker is still there, unable to get help and stewing in his own juices.
Thursday, December 23, 2010
Communication for Asshats
As I believe I promised a rant yesterday, I feel I must deliver.
If you are not an asshat, then it's unlikely you need this guidance, but as there is so much asshattery in the world and so very few people believe themselves capable of asshattery, let alone with enough frequency to deserve the appellation, I recommend that you read on, just in case.
If you are entering foreign lands, it might behoove you to come prepared. If it's a hot desert you plan to go to, a canteen or even camel back might be a plan, if it's the arctic, wear a fucking jacket and you might even wish to consider some gloves, asshat.
Regardless of the weather or terrain, you might want to learn a bit of the language or culture, or at least learn to keep your mouth shut and eyes open so as to avoid offending the locals so much that you end up a sacrifice to their gods.
Asshats like you are especially pleasing sacrifices to the gods.
I am fairly certain that last little bit is the reason my parents felt so strongly that children should be seen and and not heard: kids who keep their mouths shut and ears open in adult company are more likely to learn something from their elders (and thereby avoid being dropped in the stew).
Because children are all little asshats, waiting to be trained out of that state (or not, if the parenting skills of those responsible for a little asshat are found wanting.)
These rules hold for places and situations not all that foreign to one's culture. Unfamiliar situations such as being in court, trying to get a new job, dating, all carry a degree of risk where keeping your mouth shut, at least to a degree, might gain something for you, asshat.
As my agent once told me, the more you like someone or their work, the less effusive you should be about it when speaking to them. There are few places a conversation can go when a stranger walks up to another and starts the conversation with, "I love you and your work."
The opposite also holds true. If one is a cross-burning racist asshat, one will rarely be best served by starting conversations with, "I hate you and your kind."
Asshats who pull this kind of shit deserve whatever they get.
If you arrive late to whatever foreign place you find yourself, do not go on the attack. Do not think that just because you are concerned about whether you've fucked yourself, that others should give a rat's ass about your self-inflcited doom or, for that matter, feel the need to bow down and sacrifice the least bit of their time for you to engage in any kind of asshattery.
If you are asking what you think is a reasonable question, ask yourself first, "Has this target, this person I wish to ask the question of, have they already answered this question and I was just so late/caught up in my own bullshit that I missed it?"
If the answer is yes, best not fucking ask the question, you asshat.
If the answer is no, then consider asking the question with genuine politeness.
For a moment I forgot I was writing this for true asshats, and almost didn't explain it clearly: by genuine politeness, I mean speech that is not obsequious pandering to what you believe the questioned might want to hear, such as "Hey Boss, what's up with my ____?"
The preceding fails the litmus test for politeness and, further, if the person is not your boss or a horse, now you've gone and labeled them as someone:
a) who is an animal that prefers hay
or
b) who should run the show, and is therefore somehow capable of fixing your malfunction.
Sorry, no one can do that but you, asshat.
So. Ask politely. Perhaps something along the lines of, "I'm sorry to interrupt, but I'm late, could you possibly tell me what to do?"
Then, and this is critically important, you fucking asshat: wait for the full answer. Wait longer than you think an old lady in need of hip replacement would take to cross a particularly wide street.
Now, when the answer begins, give it your full attention. You asked for that answer, and, while I know respect of any kind comes hard to asshats, you need to show some now. This is especially true of complex questions or ones that require a multi-part answer. Process each part of the answer as it is given, and do not respond until the speaker is done.
Do not give in to the instinct to believe your inner asshat, and that the person answering your very important question is as much an asshat as you are, and might either lie to you just to see you get worked up, or doesn't know what they are talking about and failing to give you the very best answer.
This is especially true if that answer contains negative news for you, asshat. No one is willing to help an asshat who, when given bad news, decides to disrupt things further by engaging in further asshattery. Do not think that by getting louder, waxing tearful, pulling an angry face, or bemoaning the fact that you are being treated unfairly, that you are doing anything more than drawing further attention to your asshattery.
Do not repeat the question over and over again to different people hoping to find a better answer, it only proves you an asshat.
Oh, and if your friends have, in the past, proven themselves asshats, don't bring them along. Anywhere. No matter how much they might whine and complain. Their asshattery can only drag you in and keep you treading the shit-filled water.
In short, try very hard not to be an infantile, whining child, you clueless asshat. Try damned hard to follow these rules, and perhaps you will go unidentified as such.
Still, I know it is sometimes very hard to avoid showing your asshattery. For my part, if you are being an asshat, but you're sweating and gritting your teeth in attempt to restrain your natural inclination to such asshattery, I might take pity on you.
No promises, but I might.
Asshat.
If you are not an asshat, then it's unlikely you need this guidance, but as there is so much asshattery in the world and so very few people believe themselves capable of asshattery, let alone with enough frequency to deserve the appellation, I recommend that you read on, just in case.
If you are entering foreign lands, it might behoove you to come prepared. If it's a hot desert you plan to go to, a canteen or even camel back might be a plan, if it's the arctic, wear a fucking jacket and you might even wish to consider some gloves, asshat.
Regardless of the weather or terrain, you might want to learn a bit of the language or culture, or at least learn to keep your mouth shut and eyes open so as to avoid offending the locals so much that you end up a sacrifice to their gods.
Asshats like you are especially pleasing sacrifices to the gods.
I am fairly certain that last little bit is the reason my parents felt so strongly that children should be seen and and not heard: kids who keep their mouths shut and ears open in adult company are more likely to learn something from their elders (and thereby avoid being dropped in the stew).
Because children are all little asshats, waiting to be trained out of that state (or not, if the parenting skills of those responsible for a little asshat are found wanting.)
These rules hold for places and situations not all that foreign to one's culture. Unfamiliar situations such as being in court, trying to get a new job, dating, all carry a degree of risk where keeping your mouth shut, at least to a degree, might gain something for you, asshat.
As my agent once told me, the more you like someone or their work, the less effusive you should be about it when speaking to them. There are few places a conversation can go when a stranger walks up to another and starts the conversation with, "I love you and your work."
The opposite also holds true. If one is a cross-burning racist asshat, one will rarely be best served by starting conversations with, "I hate you and your kind."
Asshats who pull this kind of shit deserve whatever they get.
If you arrive late to whatever foreign place you find yourself, do not go on the attack. Do not think that just because you are concerned about whether you've fucked yourself, that others should give a rat's ass about your self-inflcited doom or, for that matter, feel the need to bow down and sacrifice the least bit of their time for you to engage in any kind of asshattery.
If you are asking what you think is a reasonable question, ask yourself first, "Has this target, this person I wish to ask the question of, have they already answered this question and I was just so late/caught up in my own bullshit that I missed it?"
If the answer is yes, best not fucking ask the question, you asshat.
If the answer is no, then consider asking the question with genuine politeness.
For a moment I forgot I was writing this for true asshats, and almost didn't explain it clearly: by genuine politeness, I mean speech that is not obsequious pandering to what you believe the questioned might want to hear, such as "Hey Boss, what's up with my ____?"
The preceding fails the litmus test for politeness and, further, if the person is not your boss or a horse, now you've gone and labeled them as someone:
a) who is an animal that prefers hay
or
b) who should run the show, and is therefore somehow capable of fixing your malfunction.
Sorry, no one can do that but you, asshat.
So. Ask politely. Perhaps something along the lines of, "I'm sorry to interrupt, but I'm late, could you possibly tell me what to do?"
Then, and this is critically important, you fucking asshat: wait for the full answer. Wait longer than you think an old lady in need of hip replacement would take to cross a particularly wide street.
Now, when the answer begins, give it your full attention. You asked for that answer, and, while I know respect of any kind comes hard to asshats, you need to show some now. This is especially true of complex questions or ones that require a multi-part answer. Process each part of the answer as it is given, and do not respond until the speaker is done.
Do not give in to the instinct to believe your inner asshat, and that the person answering your very important question is as much an asshat as you are, and might either lie to you just to see you get worked up, or doesn't know what they are talking about and failing to give you the very best answer.
This is especially true if that answer contains negative news for you, asshat. No one is willing to help an asshat who, when given bad news, decides to disrupt things further by engaging in further asshattery. Do not think that by getting louder, waxing tearful, pulling an angry face, or bemoaning the fact that you are being treated unfairly, that you are doing anything more than drawing further attention to your asshattery.
Do not repeat the question over and over again to different people hoping to find a better answer, it only proves you an asshat.
Oh, and if your friends have, in the past, proven themselves asshats, don't bring them along. Anywhere. No matter how much they might whine and complain. Their asshattery can only drag you in and keep you treading the shit-filled water.
In short, try very hard not to be an infantile, whining child, you clueless asshat. Try damned hard to follow these rules, and perhaps you will go unidentified as such.
Still, I know it is sometimes very hard to avoid showing your asshattery. For my part, if you are being an asshat, but you're sweating and gritting your teeth in attempt to restrain your natural inclination to such asshattery, I might take pity on you.
No promises, but I might.
Asshat.
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