Human Waste

Sometimes I just don't understand people. Allow me to rephrase, sometimes I fucking despise people and wish they would cozy themselves in a warm bath and open their wrists in the name of natural selection. Some "human beings" are not even worth the free oxygen that their lungs continue to steal from the rest of us spectacular specimens that actually go out and attempt to live decent lives. At this point you are undoubtedly speculating what incredulous catalyst could have sparked such disdain within a heart as boundlessly understanding as mine.  Well let me tell you.

Yesterday happened to be one of the most sunny, beautiful, and visually pleasing days of the new year thus far.  With this in mind, I decided to take my 3 year old daughter to the park for some good times and healthy exercise.  For the first 30 minutes everything was going great. We were running around, having fun, and everything was pretty zen. That was until the official ambassador of the National White Trash Association decided to show up with her grand kids and fuck it up for the rest of us. I knew we were in for a special treat, when out of the blue cloud of pollution emerged what used to be a red pickup truck. In the front seat was a (thoughtfully positioned) car-seat that would have looked worn for 1986, with a little girl clearly strapped in for maximum safety (there's that pesky sarcasm again). Directly to her left was the grandson of this second generation patriarchal train wreck,  perched on the torn fabric of the embattled seat cushion without any form of safety apparatus (aka... a fucking seat belt).

So as my daughter and I were playing, my nose began to detect the distinctively classy scent-combination of tobacco, body odor, and cheap vodka. Alert, I looked around to identify the source of this offensive bouquet of redneck stench. As I peered in the direction of the playground benches, I could spy this sorry excuse for a grandmother, lighting up a Marlboro red and telling her still innocent grand-daughter that "grandma can't play right now. Grandma needs to sit on the bench so she can smoke her cigarettes and drink her (most likely alcohol infused) coffee." Mind you, this is the worst case scenario.  I often see mom's and grand-mom's of all socioeconomic backgrounds smoking at the children's playground.  This fucking infuriates me to no end.  It's one thing if you want to give your kid second hand smoke, fuck up their health, and promote your adult lifestyle choices upon them, but why the hell does my daughter, who I have meticulously made pain-staking efforts to set good examples for and to make extremely healthy, have to endure your trailer trash, carcinogenic, hillbilly shit-show?  The children's playground is supposed to be a safe-haven for our youth, not a fucking billboard for the Marlboro Man.

I see shit like this all the time.  It wasn't so long ago that my wife and I had went to a late and extremely R-rated movie that included nudity, extreme gore, and massive amounts of cursing. Well, about 20 minutes into the movie we spied a woman who had also come to watch the flick, accompanied by the movie theater manager.  With her was a young girl who was about 7 years old and BABY IN A STROLLER!!! The theater manager then proceeded to assist the woman in positioning the stroller into the empty wheelchair space to her right and to her left sat the little girl.  As the movie became more intense the little girl began to cry and didn't want to watch anymore, but "Mother of the Year" just sat her down on her lap, and said "stop being such a baby."  This must be the same way Dr. Mengele trained the Nazi youth to become such exemplary and loving human beings.  20 minutes after this, the baby starts crying and I'd had enough.  I scream down, "Real great job you're doing there Mom, I'm sure your kids are gunna turn out great!"  In response the bitch answer's back, "who are you to judge me?", to which I retorted "just the guy who your kid's will probably try to rob in 10 years!" My question is, how does this pathetic excuse for a Mom even still have her children and where does the movie theater get off co-signing this bullshit?!? I pay hard earned cash for that theater ticket and that 10 dollar popcorn, so when I go to an adult movie, I don't want to see 7 year-olds and I sure as hell don't want to hear babies crying from strollers.

Later on, around 12:30am, as we were on our way home, I could see the Mother with the 7 year old girl, pushing the stroller through the pitch black darkness on a school night.  I almost hope for the little girl's sake that the mother dies of cancer and leaves her a little bread in insurance money, because she'll have a much better chance in this world without that genetic albatross weighing her down into an inescapable life of ignorance and poverty.

--BK