I realize that my attitude and general intellectual elitist attitude can put some people off and throw their panties in a twist.
Which is kind of why the email war happened this week.
First of all, I was an alter boy.
If that doesn’t tell you what kind of moral high ground I am coming at you from, I can’t help you.
So trust me when I tell you, I know me some morals.
So you can’t send me a hate email proclaiming my general evilness while doing so in much the same way I crossed the evil finish line.
Because I will be the first to call bullshit.
Thats like trying to end gun violence by shooting every gun owner.
Stabbing would most likely be allowed, but I am not on the rules committee.
Please understand that I am not here to engage in a debate on the subject of your choice.
And if you email me with complaints, my whole goal becomes this twisted revenge filled plot that even Machiavelli would have had trouble sorting out.
My email responses take on the equivalence of a literary sucker nut punch.
I am not necessarily proud of that, nor am I ashamed.
And my victory comes when you are to angered to continue and I get your final response of an obscene phrase, all in caps, with some sort of claim that this argument that you started is somehow beneath you now.
Don’t step up if you can’t throw down.
And then I can get on with my day.
Because I have shit to do.
But Katy, however, does not.
Katy? Who the hell is Katy. you may be asking?
Katy is just the girl who can’t can’t say no, to steal a line from Oklahoma.
She has six kids, she has 2 inch long nails, a pair of what should be illegal daisy dukes and the total inability to keep her legs together.
And she is parked on the stone patio sipping a latte with her evil brood.
And evil they are.
First of all, there is a BO stench coming off of them that is criminal in nature.
That alone puts her on my shit list.
It takes time to bath young ones, I raised two of my own, I know the drill.
But Katy is not putting in the time.
She is too busy being popular to mess with that shit.
And the Lord of the Flies re-enactment going on in front of me is tearworthy at the least.
The Saga of Katy’s kids:
Two of them are involved in digging the flowers out of the planter.
One of them has had his right finger up his nostril for so long, I think it may be attached.
What appears to be the oldest will not stop pushing one of the little ones down onto the ground.
One baby girl child has taken off her fouled diaper and is walking around with a naked bottom.
And what is Katy doing?
Texting and Snap-Chatting, because she does not have anything else to do.
Aside from raising a generation of serial killers or at least minor league felons, she may be the poster child for the fall of Western civilization.
I usually listen in, but rarely get involved with the animals in the zoo.
Today, I may make the exception.
Raise your kids any way you want as long as you are actually raising the kids and not just sitting on your ass making more kids and collecting more checks.
Is there any fucking morals left in the world or is it not PC to call this little honey a ho?
Its like an episode of Jerry Springer going on right in front of me.
You know who would get a kick out of Katy and her unique method of child rearing?
But I get the feeling that they already know Katy pretty well.
However, there are times that Karma gets off its lazy ass and does its damn job.
I began to see more than a few faces at the windows inside the Starbucks.
And then I saw them, murky thru the glass.
The Sheriff’s are here.
Along with a mystery guest.
She is a very tired looking woman in a plain semi-business suit.
She has children’s services written all over her like a tattoo on her forehead.
As the sheriff’s enter the patio, I recognize one of them as an acquaintance who I have done obstacle course races.
He gives his head a quick jerk to the inside and I recognize my que.
I move my little party to the inside.
My sheriff friend knows I blog, and doesn’t mind it, so if he thinks my being in here is better, I will roll with that.
As the door closes, I know why.
Katy erupts with language she should in all rights, never allow around her kids.
It is muted, but I can hear her call the Children’s Services woman by her name.
It appears that they are old friends.
“Sorry about that. Hopefully, this helps make up for the unpleasantness.”
The voice pulls me out of my musings.
The manager is holding a plate with a cookie and a steaming cup of coffee.
I smile and nod and take the plate.
I am amused that the manager thought this bother me.
I bite into the cookie and chase it with a sip of coffee.
Thru the window, I see Katy yelling in the children’s services lady’s face.
Dinner and a show.
And the coffee is hot.
PART 1 of 2