Wednesday, September 8, 2010

What Happens When I’m Alone with My Thoughts (Not Good)

Try as I might, one thing I can’t figure out is why everyone except me is an asshole, you know? Everywhere I extend my gaze, except for the mirror, assholes appear. I go to Wal-Mart to buy a pair of socks and I see assholes in the parking lot and inside the store. I show up for my dental appointment only to be confronted with assholes in the waiting room and at the front desk. I need to mail a letter to my Aunt Gertrude and find at the post got it: assholes. I’m at the park reading a book: assholes. I’m driving down the highway: assholes, everywhere, behind the wheel either passing me by or slowing down in front me. I’m trying to enjoy a sandwich at Panera Bread. Lo and behold: asshole city! The worst was probably last night when I went to the movie theater thinking I'm still on God's green earth only to discover to my horror I had inadvertently entered Planet Asshole.  It’s like I’m swimming in a sea of assholes. I don’t mean that literally, for that would be gross. It’d be a horror movie, really. Imagine.  You and some friends are out in the woods camping and come across an abandoned farmhouse. That sinister synthesizer motif à la John Carpenter starts to play. Curious, you go inside and all of sudden the doors and windows slam shut, a freaky satanic-looking dude starts laughing, and, yes, somehow you’re swimming in a sea of assholes. I don’t know how this would work, though. Would these be disembodied assholes floating in a vat of fecal material, say, or would you be figuratively “swimming” in the sense that you’d be subjected to a series of people’s assholes (that is to say, normal assholes connected to the body)? Perhaps some deranged psychopath has turned you into a roll of human toilet paper.  I don't know.  I haven’t figured this part out yet. For all I know, some Hollywood asshole already wrote such a script.  Those types of people sicken me, what with their penchant for seeing everyone else as the problem and concomitant inability to recognize their own—for lack of a better word—asininity.  I feel like saying, "Hey asshole, get the log out of your own frickin' eye!"