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Murder and itchy teeth.

Some situations remind you exactly why waterboarding was created.

There is nothing more annoying than a grown-up talking baby-talk.

And the extreme level of my annoyance and itchy molars has nothing to do with not having had my coffee yet.

At least I think it doesn’t.

Maybe.

But when a grown man begins whispering baby-talk into his iPhone, in line at Starbucks, ahead of me, I begin to realize what the inventor of the taser had in mind, someone in massive pain, shitting themselves, with no permanent damage.

At least, that is what this moment makes me hope he envisioned.

“No-no-no-no, I wuv yu tu muchie.”

This was said out loud, where other adults could hear it.

Are you fucking kidding me?

And just to put a little stank on this sin, HE HELD UP HIS FINGER TO HAVE THE CASHIER WAIT WHILE HE SAID IT!

I don’t care what consenting adults do in the privacy of their own home, but don’t get between me and my coffee.

I will pull a “Java Coyote” on you and chew thru your arm to get to my coffee.

This seems extreme, but I made my peace with random heinous acts in the name of addiction a long time ago.

I finally got my order in and because I just get a house drip, they give it to me immediately instead of making me wait for the barrista to make it, so I don’t have to wait like the proles at the end of the counter.

I am peacefully cream and sugaring my fix when it starts back up.

“No-no-no-no yu gots to hung up first, sweetie-weetie”

He dropped his voice a touch out of some sort of sense of decency.

Maybe his parents are still alive or something. (And not that he is afraid to embarrass them, but that they will feel they have to do the right thing and put him down, like an honor killing or something.)

I am not one for the silent praying for a random gang beating in a Starbucks, but I realize that I have been doing just that for the last 5 minutes.

And the reality of it all is that his crime is not that huge in the grand scheme of things, but it hits a nerve that is lodged deep in my cerebral cortex. (That part of the brain that controls rage and swampass)

And sometimes you have to go with your instincts.

Primordial man had a reason for seeing the guy that lived in the cave next door, recognizing the beginnings of the pox and beating him to death at the water hole to protect the safety of the community.

I am ok with that.

Same thing here.

Unfortunately, there is a societal taboo about murder as a method of correcting annoying behavior.

Go figure.

Fine, have it your way, society.

But I know I am not alone on this one.

There will come a time that the percentage of cringing swampass will get high enough that some sort of atrocity at a major coffee house chain somewhere.

Part blog, part prophet.

Discuss.

 

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Posted by on March 18, 2016 in Uncategorized

 

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Don’t take this personal, but I hate your kids.

I hate your kids, you know who I mean.

And just a tip? If I am in line at Panera Bakery, trying to think of something to write about, don’t show your ass with your rotten little progeny right in front of me.

I think it was when the 5 year old shouted “NO!” and slapped mom across the face the first time that I began paying attention.

The little girl has wild hair to the middle of her back and a set of lungs when she wants them.

Screaming and beating on the bakery case window is what got mom to drop to one knee and begin talking low to the child.

And thats when little missy decided she’d had enough of mom’s shit.

Whack! Take that bitch!

And here is the interesting part, mom was not shocked.

Let me roll that one past you again, MOM. WAS. NOT. SHOCKED.

All told, mom got smacked a total of 3 times.

Twice in line and once at the table.

I have a lot wrong with this.

First of all is the fact that mom is a fucking moron and should never have allowed that chubby little hand to land.

It sets a precedent and somewhat empowers the little monster to do it again when she gets the chance.

Plus the fact that dodging a hit from a 5 year old doesn’t require cat-like reflexes.

Had I tried that kind of mini assault on my mother growing up, she would have torn that arm from my torso and beaten me half to death with it.

And I would have had it coming.

In this instance, mom has it coming.

I am not really going out on a limb here when I suppose that this rotten little beast has no boundaries at home.

So, if the first time she has any sort of a leash put on her is when she is in school or a restaurant, we are all subjected to the thoroughly ineffective parenting of Mr. And Mrs. Dipshit foisted upon us in the form of Little Miss Dipshit.

Lucky us.

I have always been of the opinion that my children (And a select few others) are basically the only pretty and intelligent kids out there, and this dysfunctional group is only proving my point.

My son and daughter set the loose cannon bar as kids, (Nowhere near as bad as me) but I would never hesitate to take them anywhere.

Because they had boundaries.

Boundaries are the negative buzzword among what passes for the modern day, “Dr. Spock” parents.

Don’t tell your child no, avoid anything unpleasant as a result of their behavior, and GOD FORBID you smack that rotten little bitch on her backside for giving mommy a little tune up on the side of her face.

Someone needs to take mom aside, smack her hand, hard, tell her “No!” and when she opens her mouth to protest, take two fingers that tap her on the lips. “Shut your mouth! Go to your room!”

Sometimes modern thought and theories suck huge balls and old school is not only wise, its effective.

Applesauce, bitch.

 
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Posted by on January 6, 2014 in Uncategorized

 

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