Just yesterday, I was trotting around my local downtown area, a place that, in the past, was a nice way to spend an afternoon. Now, after only a couple of years, downtown has become a pigpen for all of the local teenagers to run about and wreak havoc while their parents do whatever it is that they do. Not only that, but combined with tourists and the fat people who decide Saturday is the optimum time to absorb Vitamin D from the sun on their only day out of the house, downtown is almost more trouble than it is worth. Sorry, I seem to have drifted from my topic; sloth people and tourists are another article altogether, my war is with the young’uns.
So there I am, slithering through the cesspool of suburbia. My friends and I are having a jovial conversation about random topics of interest after listening to some local music at the local yuppie coffee house. Light does that thing where it goes into your eye, cones and rods and the lot, so you see stuff clear and in color, and what does my pair of winky-winks decipher from the world? Douche bags, twelve-o’clock.
Were they hugged too much as kids, or not enough?
I'm really digging that heart-shaped belt buckle.
They looked just like every other boy roaming the streets in downtown. If the guys aren’t wearing a popped-collared polo shirt and picnic shorts, chances are they are going to be wearing tight jeans and something like a bleeding unicorn on their t-shirt. In the distance I see them, fumbling around, acting foolish, but I try to ignore them and write them off in my mind as just being different people with different brains that causes them to act in different ways confusing to my own very different brain. Conversation between my friends continues as normal and we keep our stride. That’s when it comes. As if manifested from the oxygen in the atmosphere, a cup hurtles at me. However, this cup wasn't manifested by the air, it was manifested from douche bags. My friends and I stop as the two boys keep walking, laughing loudly. In seconds, I pick up the cup at my feet, thankfully, for their sake; it was just filled with ice. How fitting that the cup was from Starbucks.
Nice. We also would have accepted the
term, "Consumer Whore".
“Assholes!” I shouted as I turned around to face them. My friends stayed stagnant in a state of uncomfortable awkwardness. The douche bags just stood there, gum-less looks on their faces, as if they had no idea what had transpired.
“Yeah you two, you little shits!” was my retort to their silence. The only reply I received was more silence. Evidently this was the first time anyone had talked to them this way in their fruitful, give-or-take eighteen years on this Earth. Finally, one of them muttered, “Can I have my cup back?”.
”If you want your cup back, you can come and get it partner!” is what I told him. Sweet fancy Moses, I meant every word too.
Since I realized that there was no way in hell these two, yes two, guys were going to try and retrieve the cup from me, I turned around with my party and put it in the nearest receptacle where it belonged and yelled back, “If you want your cup, it’s in the trash budrow!”.
Sure. The boys very well could have accidentally dropped it, what with their weak hands and poor coordination. On the contrary, that would have called for an apology and a quick pick-up of the cup and proper disposal. Because, let’s face it, litter trashes everyone, and I could have very well trashed them. Yet, none of those things were done, these boys just giggled and walked on, not a care in the world. This, in my opinion, is just as bad as chucking it right at my face. If all this wasn’t bad enough, we saw them later as they yelled at me from across the street and behind a fountain. Sorry children, almost pissing yourself in front of me, and then yelling at me from very well the fifty-yard line isn’t convincing.
They just don't make 'em like this anymore, no sir...
This act just assures me fully that we are currently living in “The Softest Generation”, and have even fluffier ones to come. There is neither courage nor honor amongst the masses this day and age. If someone threw/spilled their beverage within three feet of a man’s presence in the 1920’s, that culprit better have made a heartfelt apology and took his whoopin’, because either way, he would have got his ass kicked, and he would have been grateful for it. In present day, you would be hard-pressed to get into a fight with someone on purpose, must less for a good damn reason. Even if you were to defend yourself or unleash a proper beating on a deserving fiend, you’d be dragged off to jail and locked away with all sorts of immoral monsters. What has happened to our nation? I mean, we live in the goddamn United States of America! If I dish out some justice on some evildoers face, shouldn’t the public in the streets applaud me for that? No, for that I am deemed unfit for society and taken away to be sodomized by my new roommate Bubba.
...Except in Russia, the elusive "real man" still thrives in
all parts of the former Soviet Union.
Listen, I am not saying that we should all be violent people, flying off the handle at anyone. I am also not condoning giving into hormonal angst or taking out a bad day at the office on innocent bystanders, no matter how much fun that would be. The point I’m trying to get across is that people are growing up learning that their will be little to no consequences to their actions, and if there are consequences, the reward for their bad deed is worth enduring the slight punishment thereafter. In addition, in this pampered society of ours, people; especially those being raised in our time, need some rough treatment and hardship to help them to better deal with problems as adults. Finally, and most important of all, if some prick commits a nefarious act, I should be able to challenge him to a duel and suffer no legal actions due to him falling in the battle.
1 comment:
Those poor saps. You should have called Julie Andrews to beat some manners into them.
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