An Opinionated Blogger's Dream

As I sit here amongst the masses in Assembly Room B I can’t help but formulate opinions on everyone and everything I see. We’re all here to “solemnly swear” and “raise our right hand” to serve our country and perform our duty as citizens. People of all colors, shapes and sizes all united in one common goal – figure out how to get the fuck out’ve here as quickly as possible.

 

Back to my inability to reign in my opinions on everyone and everything. I think the judge and the associated lawyers should be made aware of this fact. I just got back from the initial introduction to the case I may be selected to jurorize (Yup. Made that word up but I think it works) and I’m pretty confident the defendant is guilty already. I haven’t been told any facts of the case other than the type of charges and where it took place. For my part I’m confident I know they are guilty just by my first impression of the defendant.

 

Some of you may cry foul and say I shouldn’t judge and that we’re all innocent until proven guilty. Blah blah blah. The fact of the matter is that my first impression of people has an overall success rate of somewhere between 98% - 100%. I’d save this Court and prospective jurors a lot of time and money if they would hear me out on this.

 

Some observations of the morning so far…

 

1) While on “recess” if you decide to monopolize a private cubicle in the Computer Lounge you should do so with a computer. Not an embarrassingE-Reader. Not an iPod. Not an actual book. It’s a Computer Lounge not a Technology/Leisure Lounge and other people with computers on hand value that space. Glad we cleared that up. Thanks.

 

2) Something about sitting in a room with 100 other highly opinionated jurors who would rather be elsewhere really does bring me back to the days of yesteryear when our government was formed by our prophetic forefathers. Harkening is about as far as I’ll go with that feeling though. I’d rather be elsewhere. Thanks.

 

3) In a tightly packed room filled with unhappy and slovenly people the last thing you should be doing is slurping your coffee like a 9 year old slurps apple juice. Grow up buddy. Thanks.

 

4) Woman behind me in the Computer Lounge this one’s for you. Shut the fuck up. Read the sign on the wall that says “No Talking on Cellphones”. I don’t give a shit about how great an employee this Brad character is and I don’t give a rat’s ass that you are a Managing Director. Thanks.

 

5) I’ve come to realize that I’m not a pew guy. I hate sitting in pews. So as I was sitting in this uncomfortable position listening to the judge speak of “community responsibility” and “civic duty” I couldn’t help but wander off and think about how maybe I’m not necessarily atheist but I’m actually just anti-pew? Maybe when I was in CCD back in my formative days it was the pew that got me thinking The Big G’ was a fraud. You’d think if the guy was a carpenter as they say he’d like his subjects to be a little bit more comfortable as they worship him in his house, no? I know if it were my house and I had hundreds gathering daily to worship me I’d at the very least offer a cushion on something other than the thing you kneel on. Something to think about G' as you go fw: with this religion thing. Meeting with the Pope may be in order?

 

6) Oh and woman behind me, one more thing, you are NOT talking softly as you just claimed on the phone so don’t apologize to the schmuck you’re talking to right now. Thanks.

My Muse Marci

My morning started out nicely. An early morning WOD with the wife and others at Brazen complete with 16 minutes of shoulder torture. Snatches, Handstand Pushups and Double Unders all before the sun rises. Great way to start the day. After said torture session I took advantage of my one free food or drink courtesy of Starbucks gold status and enjoyed a not-so-little vente with a shot of espresso.

I was 2 for 2 to start my morning. Really going strong. Headed to work and ready to get on with the day. Working for “the man” and being miserable doing so had nothing on me today!

 

And then she had to go and ruin it.

 

“She” refers to the pretentious, nosey, judgmental bitch I encountered while enjoying my idle session in typical Rte 280 traffic. I’m gonna dissect this stuck-up bitch because it’s therapeutic to do so. I’m fairly certain I have her pinned down as a person. But first, let me set the scene…

 

We’re start and stopping our way down 280 like moths to a flame. Every one of us in our cars embarking on a day not one of us really wants to embark on. Hundreds upon hundreds of cars filled with doubt. I’d say 90% of the people on the road in the morning are doing something they wish they didn’t “have” to do. Alas, we’re doing it. We’re like pigs voluntarily slogging our way to the metaphorical slaughterhouse of life.

 

I look to my left as if someone was tapping me on my shoulder telling me to do so and what do I see. I see a woman with a face of disgust. I see a woman ranting and raving. I see a woman who is evidently not to pleased to have seen me check my iPhone while, gasp, driving. She rolls down her window. I have no idea what words are coming out’ve her mouth. I only see her mouth moving and her finger waving back and forth. I may not have heard what she said but I’m fairly certain she heard what I said…

 

“Really? Get a fucking life. You fucking bitch.”

 

Victory. I’m now a hard fought 3 for 3 to start my morning. I was in disbelief of what just happened. Some thoughts that ran through my mind in the aftermath, “Did that really just happen?”, “Are people really that fucking tightly wound?”, “People need to get a grip.”

 

I don’t get. Is checking your phone while driving safe? No its not. That’s not the point. The point is the judgment. The point is the fact that she got so bent out’ve shape over witnessing such a heinous crime that she exploded and felt the need to yell at me like I’m her bratty kid she sees when the Nanny cancels last minute. Here’s what’s really going on in her head…

 

Her name is Marci and the reason she’s so upset this morning is because her husband, Jeff, is cheating on her and the Nanny, Rosa, has been cancelling of late leaving her with more work to do at home. She was actually one of the 10% this morning that wasn’t on her way to work. Instead she was on her way to Newark to pick up Rosa since one of the reasons for the cancellations has been her unreliable mode of transportation. Having to wake up so early was not the way she typically likes to start her day unless it’s out back with her massage therapist, Derek.

 

Last night over dinner she got into a little dust-up with Jeff over how much he’d been working. Late hours at the office turned into accusations of an affair. Jeff, although guilty as sin, denied vehemently and his response, “I work late so you can continue buying expensive things and taking vacations. You want me to fucking stop or do you want to keep buying that jewelry of yours?!” That didn’t go over too well and their daughter, Madison, was caught in the crossfire. It’s times like these when Rosa is needed most. Unfortunately Rosa’s brakes failed earlier in the day which caused the build-up of frustration that came out come dinner time.

 

It’s amazing how it all comes full circle and I get yelled at as a result. I’m a complete stranger. I’m minding my own business in my own car. We’re two steel door frames and a solid 10’ away from each other and yet I still find myself in her crosshairs. She looked to her right and she didn’t see me. She saw Jeff, Rosa, Morgan and Derek rolled into one…although with what she pays Rosa I dont’ think she’d have an iPhone. Semantics. She saw Jeff banging his secretary, Stephanie, because Stephanie appreciates him. She saw Rosa calling to apologize for her unreliable station wagon forcing her to be a mother to her child. She saw Madison come home and bitch and moan that her friend Morgan got picked as cheerleading captain and she didn’t. And she saw Derek continually turning down her advances because he doesn’t play for that team.

 

She saw it all in me.

 

I like to think I represented the prevailing thoughts of Jeff, Rosa, Morgan and Derek by calling her a bitch. I also like to think that there is a “mutual friend” out in the facebook world that knows Marci and can share this blog with her. I’d like her to know how transparent her life has become. I’d like her to know she played muse to my creative side this morning. In a fateful twist of irony I thank you, Marci. I thank you for being my muse.

 

…or maybe she was just unhappy with my unsafe iPhone-While-Driving actions. Could be either one.

Look In the Mirror

 

I’m setting the record straight. At the end of this spontaneous rant we should all just move on from this discussion and find something else to bitch about.

Violent video games don’t make violent people. Let’s say it one more time, violent video games DON'T make violent people.

Parenting, or lack thereof, make violent people. Lack of morals make violent people. Lack of common sense make violent people. More and more you see and hear people bitching and moaning about their kids and the access they have to video games that depict killing, war, gang violence, etc. and they blame that for their children’s misbehavior on the playground.

How about blame yourself.

I grew up playing “War”. I grew up playing “Cowboys and Indians.” I grew up “killing” my friends. I would die every day. They would die every day. We would get shot and suffer and experience slow and bloody deaths. We would play with fake guns and knives that looked exactly like real guns and knives. We would mimic every violent thing imaginable.

Guess what? We’re not killers. Amazing.

We knew right from wrong. We knew actual war was actually horrific. We knew actual torture was actually wrong…in most cases.
 

This isn't a "pro-gun" debate either. Even though I am a gun owner I understand people not liking guns. I get it. I may not agree with that stance but I get it.

The fact of the matter is that it’s all fun and games. As a child I knew when I said, “Bang you’re dead!” I wasn’t literally killing someone and I knew that literally killing someone was a bad thing. I knew when I’d get into an argument over them not dying and I’d say, “No I got you! I shot you in the head!!” that it was just a game.

How did I know?

Well, I had parents that raised me to know right from wrong. It’s easy as that.

So for all the parents that blame Call of Duty, Grand Theft Auto, R-rated movies and the media for the violence of their children I say look in the mirror before you start pointing fingers.