Tag Archives: outrage

3 Reasons Why I Should Keep A Stack Of Thrift-Store Plates On Hand For Smashing

Or, 3 Reasons Why I Sometimes Consider Visiting a Firing Range

1. Bad calls.

There are many injustices in this crazy world, but few can inspire the bitter outrage of blown calls. The stakes of these games can be so high—and yet the outcome can literally rest in the hands of one ass-clown official. I nearly lost my mind in October when the Braves were knocked out of the playoffs after the single most idiotic call in the history of everything. That was Chipper’s last game, y’all. His one chance to play for another World Series before his retirement. And this man ruined it.

Sam Holbrook stole the Braves’ crucial momentum by making a ludicrous infield fly call. (Yes, I know Chipper made a bad throw and allowed some runs earlier in the game, but the BASES WERE LOADED people.) We had a very real shot at turning the game around until this potato-faced cretin decided to show everyone he has goat dung for brains.

I actually cried tears of helpless rage in front of Buffalo Wild Wings’ entire clientele when this happened. Two months later, I’m still deeply wroth. I still have a picture of this son of Satan on my fridge with some particularly vulgar decorations of my own addition. Incidents like these tend to, erm, rankle a bit if I can’t find an outlet for my ire.

2. Humanity.

Every day, the general public finds a way to steal a little bit more of my sanity. I don’t know why I continue to place so much stock in common courtesy when my expectations get repeatedly bitch-slapped, but I do. I can’t help it. I keep hoping that people will be as considerate of me as I am of them. I don’t block the aisle with my buggy. I don’t stop suddenly in a crowded public place or walk backwards without looking. I don’t force other motorists to absorb shock waves from my stereo. When I worked in food service, I didn’t just stare blankly at people when they came up to the counter. I always say thank you when someone holds the door. I use my blinker and go a constant speed on the highway (for the love of God, cruise control!). Sometimes I even roll out extra paper towels for the person washing their hands after me in the ladies’ restroom. And what do I get for my pains? Oblivious dolts impeding my path in every public place ever. Sullen trolls behind every register and food counter. Some fool blasting his bass loud enough to jiggle my internal organs at every stoplight. By the time I make it home from outings amongst the populace, I’m just one giant raw nerve. Curse you all, you pack of mouth-breathing pig-eyed savages.


3. Cat hair.

Look, I love my cats. They are the joy of my old age (did I mention I turn 30 next month? guess I’ll be getting my AARP invite soon) and the light of my life. But THEIR HAIR. Y’all. It’s everywhere. I dust. I vacuum. I dust some more. I clean the wads of fur out of the poor choked Roomba every ten minutes. I scrape the furniture with this doodad. I brush the cats (when they let me).

This is how Piglet looks when I come near her with the brush.

This is how Piglet looks when I come near her with the brush.

The cleaning of cat hair never ends. And yet, when the sun is shining just right through the window, I can see kilos of fecking cat hair floating in the atmosphere. I sit down on a chair and a cloud of the stuff explodes around me. I go to a restaurant and find cat hair in my food. From my own clothes. Aaaaauuuughhhhhghhh.

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3 Reasons Why Joe Paterno Is Pissing Me Off From Beyond the Grave

Or, 3 Reasons Why Everything He Said In This Letter Is a Pile Of Self-Serving Crap

I’m making a disgusted grimace at this picture right now (courtesy of this article).

1. He’s still putting football first.

Paterno’s priorities? Like, seriously out of whack. Instead of taking this final opportunity to admit to, apologize for, and perhaps slightly rectify his mistakes, he’s still just trying to promote his sport. He claims that “this isn’t a football scandal” and urges us not to let the ugly affair tarnish the accomplishments of Penn State players. Hey, JoePa—why don’t you point that finger the other way? If the amazing success of your team motivates you and your administrators to hush up child rape, that *makes* it a football scandal. You don’t need to worry about anyone else doing the tarnishing—you unfairly involved your players in your disgrace and cast a shadow on their accomplishments all on your own, so I know you are not lecturing the rest of us on the injustice of this situation. All the finger shaking in the world won’t change the fact that you put your program over the welfare of defenseless kids and those football victories are forever stained by your mistake.

2. He’s still minimizing the suffering of Sandusky’s victims.

Abuse has a ripple effect. It starts, of course, with physical assault. Then, like endless waves in a dark sea, come fear, humiliation, shame, powerlessness, the loss of objectivity and self-respect. Victims become depressed and isolated, overwhelmed by helpless despair. Their main obstacle to escaping abusers and finding healing is silence: lack of awareness and education, lack of support for speaking out, lack of acknowledgement and validation. Paterno could have been a powerful advocate for these kids—a lifeline for those too victimized to stand up to Sandusky on their own. If nothing else, he could have used this letter to openly admit his role in the affair and give these people some small measure of justice and support before his death. Just imagine what it might have meant to have Joe Paterno’s public sympathy and affirmation. Instead, his continued silence just adds to the victims’ personal and legal struggles. Atta boy, Joe, kick ’em while they’re down!

3. He’s still denying the true extent of the damage.

Paterno imagines he can convince us that this scandal doesn’t really reflect on Penn State—that somehow the actions of its top administrators and famous football coach have no impact on the institution as a whole. But this isn’t just misspent funds or a phony summer class we’re talking about here. What went on at Penn State was far worse: the pitiless destruction of innocent human souls under the knowing complicity of its most powerful leaders. Again, while it’s deeply unfair that the rest of the Penn State community must live under the pall of this scandal, it’s stupidly naive to insist that it shouldn’t affect the school’s reputation. Only someone who hasn’t bothered to understand the true horror of what happened—or the true consequences of his own cowardly actions—could make such a claim. Sorry, Joe, but this lame attempt to retroactively repair damage you could have prevented years ago only strengthens my conviction that, in the end, you were an arrogant and selfish man with little true regard for your players, your school, or your community’s children.

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