Monday

welcome to the shame factory

If you're going to go to work and try to help people, feel good about it. I do. Maybe you're a carpenter, maybe you're a dentist. Maybe you're a watchmaker or a pharmacy technician or a mortgage paperwork guy or a writer. Maybe you kill mice or defend computer networks. Maybe you're a nurse or you pretend to be busy all day and just drive around getting paid. Whatever. When you do something, don't do it because it makes you feel like shit. It's a willing tautology, expressing itself like a gene and waiting for me to grab onto it: if you really hate it you don't do it, ever.

Unless you're totally unhealthy, misguided, and surrounded by insanity, generally you'll have more good days than bad if you follow this basic protocol of feel good about what you do, whatever it is. Because even if you're going to blow up the Murrah federal building, at least if you feel good about it you don't sound like a sorry piece of garbage when you explain yourself later.

What kills me is when people have to pretend that something conflicting is going on, like when Patrick Swayze cries in the shitball movie Donnie Darko when in reality he would have been beating off to kiddie porn, or when Jimmy Swaggart pretended like fucking hookers wasn't the right thing to do at the time. It may not be for those of us with any small measure of sex appeal, but look at that guy or any other tv preacher. At least I get the hookers thing; people gotta get some ass.

Enter the mayor of San Francisco. He comes along and admits to an alcohol problem to try to shift the blame from himself to what I can only assume is some kind of his other self. Sure. It might play in the media, but no actual, single, sentient individual can possible believe this foolishness. I mean let's see a picture of the broad. Would I hit it? Let's talk it over! But no. This will instead become, as everything is, another political football.

What's actually the worst insult, if not the most elaborate or entertaining, is the simple fact that this man has no balls. Mark Foley ring a bell? It's not just right wing closet homos like him and Pastor Ted; denial knows no political affiliation.

Shit, I'm drunk right now and I still know better than not to fuck my buddy's wife and then claim it was the booze that made me do it.

1 Comments:

At Thursday, February 08, 2007, Anonymous robinkisser said...

I love how it's become the thing to do for any transgression, you admit to having an alcohol problem and goto treatment. Regardless of the transgression. Mel Gibson, Foley, Kramer (richards), haggard, the SF mayor, and a few others I'm not remembering. Personally, I think the crazy astronaut chick should try it. The whiskey made me drive across the country in diapers, wait....that was me.

Anyway.

The the next time I'm caught, I know what to do.

 

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