Will's Coffee House

John Dryden, Dramatist, Critic, Poet Laureate, and my ancestor, frequented a coffee house called Will's almost daily, where he would hold forth on sundry subjects with great wit and aplomb. Same deal here, only without the wit or aplomb.

Location: Large Midwestern City, Midwestern State, United States

I am a stranger in a sane land...

Thursday, October 14, 2004

An Editorial Response Leads to a Portrait of Pure Evil

I've been asked, nay, commanded to post something--and the fact that I'm submitting to this command should indicate from whence it comes--*cough*naggingspouse*cough*--like it's my fault she has a tedious day-job and needs the distraction of my misanthropic ramblings. Well, fine, then.

A curious, but in some ways predictable response to my last post--first, parents wrote me personally (no posting for them--perhaps worried that I might cruelly savage their offspring on-line yet again?) to deny my assessment of their various spawnings. Fair enough, but I'm presenting the non-parent's view of children. Maybe when someday I get beamed aboard the Mothership (pun semi-intended), I'll come around to the thought that they're the greatest blessing of life, but until then, folks, they're a damned nuisance and that's all there is to it. Put it this way--I'd much rather sit next to a smoker on a plane, in a restaurant, in a movie theater--hell, basically, if I'm sitting, I'm probably either reading, having a conversation, or watching something interesting, and children are just designed to f*** that sort of activity up.

But you go ahead and love them--I'll concede that I'd much rather you treat them with that sickly bias of cloth-eyed adoration than not, since they're then less likely to grow up into the sort of snotty bastards like the jerk who broke into my car last week. Didn't even steal anything! I mean--isn't that the textbook definition of "Adding Insult To Injury"?

Let me see if I can reconstruct this slope-browed jackass's thoughts as he went about his thuggish business: "OK, let's break into a car--so many lined up along the street here, which to choose? Wow, there must be, like, fifty--or so I assume, since I can't count past 12--ten fingers and two flipper-feet--damn Mom for drinking Pine-Sol while she was pregnant. OK, OK, let's not get distracted like that time I spent eight days staring at the light-bulb in the closet--good thing that burned out, I'd have died of thirst! Where was I? Oh, yeah, committing a random act of stupid theft on some poor bastard's vehicle. OK, pick one, pick one--Mercedes? BMW? Nah, too high tone for me--don't want to seem pretentious in my black-hearted larceny. But I'm not going for those Honda Civics or Ford Focus pieces of garbage--I may be an evolutionary throw-back to the era of amphibian troglodytes, but I've got my pride. Hey--the Nissan Maxima!--not too sporty, not too shoddy--perfect! OK, the Maxima it is. Now. Hmm, should I smash the window or try to pry it open? Oh, heck, let's go with pry--sure, it'll be much harder, take much more time, and do more structural damage--but then, it's not like I'm in a hurry here, or want to resell anything I might acquire! Oof! Urf! Hngh! Hurgh! Hmm. Prying doesn't seem to work--oh, hell, I guess I gotta smash the thing...Hey! This damn car has an alarm! Ohhh--so that's what that incredibly obvious flashing red light on the instrument panel meant--jeez, it's not as if it was hard to see in the dark of this unlit street! Boy am I a moron! Sheesh! Welp, better not dawdle, then. Might as well snag that radio and--oh jeez! The damn radio panel just came off in my hand! It's one of those stupid detachable thingies that are supposed to deter theft! Shoot! Drat! Well, what am I supposed to do with this damn thing? Ah hell, it must weigh about 2 ounces--can't be bothered to lug that millstone away. I'll just drop it here on the grass--Omigod! The sprinklers are going off! I'm getting all wet--better hotwire the car and--oh, wait! The water from the sprinklers is going into the car through the window I just smashed! Now it's all damp and soggy in there. Well screw that--I'm not stealing a soggy car! I'd have to wait for it to dry out before I brought it to the chop shop--you know those guys won't take just any old car! Man, would they ever give me the business if I showed up with this! Well. Gosh. I guess I better just walk away from this one. I mean--look at all those bedroom lights going on--man, that alarm is loud, isn't it?--hey, are those sirens? Boy oh boy, is that ever my cue! I should be going to bed anyway--the short school bus will be by to pick me up for 'career training' tomorrow morning!"

People suck. People really, really suck. And once again--another argument for not having kids and making more of them...


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