Hatred and bias.

I’ve touched briefly on this topic in the past, and really I have volumes to say about it.  This is my blog after all, so there is a soapbox with my footprints worn neatly into it that I use for just this occasion.

There are many good reasons in this world to strongly dislike someone — too many to not have one.  In fact, if you can’t be bothered to come up with something tangible, then you should really get out of the game.  You can’t hate someone without at least spending a modicum of time figuring out why.  If you’re going purely on appearances, let’s say the color or length of someone’s hair, then you are an imbecile — the lowest form of human being there is.

No, let me correct that.  You are an ape.  A gorilla.  You lack coherent thought and act purely on instinct.  You might just as well be scratching your crotch in a tree, wondering with your tiny brain where the next banana will be coming from, and when that other furry blob over there will come and preen you, picking the ticks off of your smelly hide.  I’d go so far as to say you were born without a brain stem, but ultimately you need a connection to the central nervous system to be able to masturbate in your cage as the nice zoo patrons walk past.

Really, to take offense at someone for purely superficial reasons is the basis of all the nasty little "isms" that have developed over time.  Racism, sexism, classism…  Hmm.  Classism, that’s a good one to use as an example.

Let’s say that you are an office worker, one of the folks who push buttons and generates a fair amount of brain-sweat developing and streamlining new procedures and technologies to make the company you work for a more efficient and profitable machine.  You harbor distaste for physical laborers, you know… the typical plant worker.  Guys who operate basic tools and perform repetitive tasks.  They are in your eyes all sophomoric, Cro-Magnon, high school dropouts, incapable of doing anything else.  They occupy a low station in life and are alcoholic wife-beaters to the very last man.

Let’s also say that you formulated this opinion without having spent more than a cumulative thirty seconds talking to any of them.  You’d have missed out on the fact that what they do for the most part is a skilled trade.  In some cases, it’s very complex and dangerous work that you yourself could not perform if thrown out into the plant and handed the tools.  Many of them are extremely intelligent folks, who for their own reasons choose to do what they do.  Some of them are indeed low-intellect closed-minded buffoons and fall into the gorilla category specified above.

Now, reverse this scenario.  You are a plant worker, one of the guys in the trenches.  You bust your ass all day long, freezing in the winter and sweating in the summer doing a thankless backbreaking job.  You produce the merchandise that your company markets for profit, paying the bills and your paycheck.  You can’t stand those snobby bastards in the office who get to sit around all day in the air-conditioning, playing games and fucking around with the way things have been run for the last thirty years.  They’re good for nothing if they can’t produce a tangible product.  They’re on easy street and you hate it.  You’ll take any chance you can get to reduce them to your level.

Have you considered that all that these folks are average guys like you?  They may have devoted a fair amount of their lives to working behind a clipboard or keyboard, but their job while not as physical, is no less valid than yours.  They are working to make the road ahead smoother.  They take an outdated system and make it more accurate and responsive — eventually reducing the time necessary to get results.  These office folk are also the ones that ensure that you get prompt medical attention, the parts and equipment to do your job, an accurate paycheck, representation with the brass, and fair wages.  They aren’t out to make your life miserable as long as you work with the system, not against it.  They are no better or worse than you are.

The net result of all of the above bullshit is this: have a halfway genuine beef with someone before you start shooting off your mouth, otherwise you’re just a misguided simian who is one tree-branch away from being used for scientific anal-stretching experiments.  You are as shallow and superficial as your opinion, which has as much weight and bearing as a fart in a hurricane.  Your mental incapacity is worn on your sleeve for all to see.  A bias without foundation is as good as belief in nothing at all.

"They’re nihilists, Donny, nothing to be afraid of."

"Are they gonna hurt us, Walter?"

"They won’t hurt us, Donny.  These men are cowards."

And for the sake of all that is good and holy, if you must… if you absolutely feel the necessity to insult someone, at least do so in a creative way.  C’mon people, we have a rich and wonderful language at our disposal, put a little thought into it.  Get clever.  Prove to the world that you’re no ape.

Well damn and howdy.  It would seem that I have unintentionally gathered up a whole new slew of readers from a source that shall remain nameless.

You know who you are.

Let me guess… you’re reading my words and having a bit of a snicker.  Go ahead, my writing is intentionally laced with dark humor and intended to tickle the funny-bones of those who read it — either because they understand it or they think I’m ludicrous. 

Reading someone’s blog is a bit like watching a fish in a bowl.  You can silently watch the fish swim about, getting tickled by the bubbles coming out of the little treasure chest.  You can have a laugh when he bonks his face into the plastic diver or coral reef.  You get a thrill out of him feeding on the smaller fish, or getting chased by the larger ones.  It’s even a hoot to make comments about his markings and coloration… "Whooo-wee Helen, he sho’ does have some funny looking fins".

Really, if I didn’t want anyone to see what is written here, I wouldn’t make it visible to the public.  I’d password protect it, or even better yet I’d go back to the cro-magnon method of writing things down on paper.  With an actual pencil.  How barbaric.  No, I write mostly for my own amusement, knowing that I have an audience — neither one, nor a thousand pairs of eyes make any difference to me.

I also have enough scruples not to write any painfully detailed information about anyone… or any place of importance.  If I have something to say in that regard, I remain painfully vague about the specifics, and the target audience (if there is one) will know what I’m talking about.  No, you will get no real juicy details about anyone but me, and only then what I want to reveal… which coincidentally happens to be a fair amount.

Which leads me to my next point.  You see, if you are reading my babblings here, you aren’t really finding out much about me except what I post.  Selective bits.  Really, I have no use for anyone who won’t bother to get to know me in the most courteous method.  Talking to me.  I love to talk to people, interaction on a level playing field is the grandest way to learn about someone, find out what makes them tick and show them a modicum of respect.  Hearsay is suspect and shallow.  It leads to rumor mongering, and inventing or spreading rumors is reserved for the residents of the shallowest end of the intellectual gene pool.  If your mind and eyes are closed, then you should go ahead and lie down in a hole and pull the dirt in after you.  This is, of course, assuming that you care to know more about a person.  If not, you have the right to remain silent, and anything you say can and will be held against you.

I know that I might spout off some outlandish things from time to time.  Some, if not most of you will be amused or moved by my words, and a portion of you might be offended.  To those with more delicate sensibilities, I direct you to my disclaimer.  Just remember, you exorcized your right and free-will and came here of your own volition.  If you get upset, you have no one to blame but yourself.

One parting bit of wisdom to the newly arrived.  While an individual’s blog is like watching a fish in a bowl, in the case of blogs, the fish is watching back.  And he never, ever blinks.  Be careful whose bowl you tap on, you might get tapped back.