I think I might be a little biased, but as I age I’m becoming more and more old coot-like. I’m a little bit tired of tolerating other people, which is bad news for me because I have (hopefully) about seventy more years of putting up with idiots. Then it dawned on me that there’s a whole segment of the population whose day just got a little worse when they realized they have seventy more years of putting up with me, so I think we’re even.
In order to help everyone involved, I’ve come up with a labeling system. I agree to wear the following warning badge:
I’ll even wear it on my forehead so everyone can see it because I do kind of feel bad that I’m a mean person. It’s kind of like the Parental Advisory stickers that Tipper Gore insisted all the good 80s music have, and the only outcome was everybody ran out and bought up all the music with the warning sticker on it. Maybe people will see my badge and back away, but the really fun people will seek me out as a friend.
Now, in order for me to be aware of who’s an asshole and who’s not, I’m going to need certain segments of the population to adhere to these steps.
- If you think women are evil and sinful and shouldn’t be allowed to make any decisions involving their own vajajays, you’re going to have to wear a rubber mask at all times like this one, just so I know to avoid you. Or so I know that you’re someone I should trip while you’re carrying something hot and/or pokey:
- If you really enjoy driving to the organic foods farmers’ market so you can buy healthy veggies and free-range meat products and be smug about how the rest of us eat crap and don’t care about pouring chemicals into our soil and groundwater, but you drove there in a 3-ton Lexus SUV that only burns premium, please wear your hemp fiber reusable shopping bag that was supposedly woven by Bolivian women at a co-op over your head so I don’t have to see the superior smirk you wear on your face at all times.
- If you are twenty years old and have no job and have never paid into Social Security or had to work a minimum wage job to afford your meager supply of Ramen noodles while in college—oh, and you don’t vote because “it doesn’t make a difference”—please wear the free T-shirt you got when you stopped at that table on the sidewalk and applied for another credit card. If they were giving out Frisbees with their corporate logo on it that day, feel free to carry that around with you instead.
- Let’s see, what else is pissing me off royally today…oh yeah. If you think school lunches are fine the way they are since ketchup kinda really is partly related to a vegetable, I have your uniform ready:
That’s all I have at the moment, but I’m sure something will come up once my caffeine wears off. If you’ve found a blog post with the guidelines that I should have to adhere to on how to not be such a bitch, send it my way. I’d love to read it because then I’ll have more stuff to write about while judging others. Thanks, and remember:
Lorca Damon 
Lorca, true story: In the 1980s I worked for the organization run by the guy who’s picture is under #1. It was a job. So anyway, before making his official public announcement about running for Prezident, he called all of us employees together and gave us the big news, first. Before sending us back to our cubbies, he asked if anyone had any questions. One brave soul raised his hand. “OK, did I hear you right, you’re saying that God told you to run for President?” the dude who apparently hated his job asked. “That’s right,” Pat R. replied. “Did God also tell you whether you are going to win or not?” asked the wannabe ex-employee. “Let me put it this way,” says Pat R. “God doesn’t back losers.”
Uh-huh.
Comedy. Gold. I had a teacher in middle school who joyfully told us all that God had told Pat Robertson that he was going to win. Later in the conversation she also let us in on a little secret: the world was going to end in 1988. Even in seventh grade I was an asshole, because I raised my hand and asked, “So Pat Robertson becoming President is going to spark the Apocalypse?” And somehow I got sent to the office.
Did your seventh grade teacher die in 1988? I knew somebody who said the world was going to end in ’88, and sure enough, he died that year. So I guess as far as he was concerned, his prediction came true.
I worked for the Pat R. organization almost 3 years. The first 2 years P.R. sent out a newsletter for the upcoming year that was full of prediction God had told him would happen that year. None of them came true, as I recall, for example the limited nuclear war that he prophesied for one of those years didn’t happen. After that, his annual January newsletters contained no predictions.
Pat R. wrote an autobiography, which was published several years before he decided, I mean before God decided, that he should run for President. I had read the book. It contained a chapter that went into detail about how his father, who was a U.S. Senator, if I remember right.. he was some kind of politician, anyway… wanted Pat to help out on his campaign. Pat was going to postpone his ministry work to help his dad when, according to the autobiography, God told Pat that His eternal purpose was far more important than earthly politics, and that he had been called to be an evangelist, not a politician. (I’m paraphrasing God here, I hope He doesn’t mind.) So then Pat declined his dad’s request to work on his political campaign, and got busy with his far more important task of being a bigshot TV Evangelist.
Shortly before Pat’s brief run for President, his autobiography was republished. Guess which chapter got left out of the new version?
So happy to say I could not put a name to the face under step #1 (until I hovered over it). And no I don’t live under a rock. It just re-affirmed how I managed to live my life without paying much attention to the icky rocks others might build colonies under. The SUV-driving-organic-living-judgemental mentals you described in #2 had me ROFLing. God I love your blogs 🙂
Awww…that means you are definitely NOT an A-hole or B-word!
I’d sorta like to make rotten tomatoades like in medieval times. When people say stupid shit, just lob nasty old vegetables at them. They’ll get the picture eventually.
I can’t be trusted with that power. I’d start beaning people with crap just for looking at me funny. But I’ll be happy to carry your tomato basket since you’re doing good in the world!
I have done a lot of riffing on new-millennium yuppies in my day. I even made somebody laugh, once. But I’ve never dreamt of reaching the heights you have, here. I’m not even going to try to say anything funny about the GWB pic. There’s no hope I could surpass the laff-riot of the image itself.
It’s sometimes hard to convince people that I truly don’t hate anyone…they just don’t believe me for some reason!
What a fab idea!!! I think EVERYONE should wear a label. That way you won’t an hour talking to people only to find out they are a..holes! I don’t have 70 yrs left so I can’t afford to waste time. I would love to spend time talking to you though since you are so funny.
We could have countdown timers on our lapels that let people know how much longer they have to make their first impression. When the timer beeps, you had better make me think you’re a decent human being!
“Lucy… you got some splaining to do…..”
Huh? Ok! Lemme think…nope, I got nothing.
Once again, you leave me rolling on the floor laughing! Divorce your husband, and marry me – or you can have mine, whichever you prefer! LMAO
Oh no! THAT ship has sailed! I clearly heard the preacher say, “Til death do you part,” and I won’t be signing my life away again!
On a side note, I have recently ordered a shirt, so I can start randomly handing out lemons
Bahahahaa!
bah, this should say “that has life printed on it”