Skip to main content

Fighting the Urge

I fucking hate people sometimes.
I know...not very enlightened of me. And it's not the actual person I hate, per se. It's really the behavior of the person. I know some of the people that annoy me don't really mean to. They aren't bad people. They normally aren't complete fucktards of epic proportions.

They just do stupid shit without thinking of anyone but themselves.

And PLEASE don't misunderstand this post (rant?)...I am fully aware that I (more often than not) have fallen in to that very same category for somebody else.

Sometimes people think they're being funny. Or cute. Or genuinely helpful. Even when they're not.

I know that I've fallen in to most of those categories. But I've also fallen in to the "I'm going to be a sarcastic douche just to fuck with people" category as well.

The problem is, these days, how can you tell which is which?

I don't know that you can. I think our lifestyle, our culture, has made sarcasm and snark a nice second skin for most people. It's like the Emporer's New Clothes. Some of us can see that it's not really all that, but nobody wants to call anybody else on it for fear that their own bullshit get called out in to the light of day.

I sat for three days on a post about Clickbait ads which pose as articles on Facebook. Followed by a nice little rant about motorcycle drivers. And then planned to close it with a little piece on nirvana (the state of bliss, not the band). But to be honest...the clickbait thing will always be there. I don't see that going away any time soon.  And the motorcycle rant will likely always be there as long as there are stupid people doing stupid things on them (no, it's not a blanket statement to all motorcyclists, just the stupid ones). And to be perfectly honest, I have no idea what the nirvana piece of the puzzle was. So...let's consider that one tabled for now.

So back to the self-centered d-bags (did I mention I was including myself in this category? Good).

I don't know where I was going with this, other than to say I think we, as a culture, have become quite complacent in our willingness to start shit, troll, tear people down and then when someone calls us on our bullshit, we say  that we were only kidding.

You know what? Fuck it. I can't even pretend to be upset or astonished by that any more. My 'Facebook is the Anti-Social Media' rhetoric falls flat as long as I still have a Facebook account and post links to my ramblings from there.

This post is actually worse than vaguebooking. Turns out I'm annoyed at one single comment on a post I made. And I'm as much annoyed by the comment as I am by my reaction. And the truth is, it just doesn't fucking matter.

I'm not going to bother to post the link to this. If you happen to find it-brava. If not, more's the better. It was really just clearing my head with shit that should have been written in my paper journal anyway.

Stay tuned next week for "The Amway Apology."

Until then, stay golden Pony Boy.



Popular posts from this blog

Marriage Material??

I had a friend call me today, fuming. I consider myself a good listener on most days. Considering that I was out of town on a work trip and doing absolutely nothing in my hotel room, my listening game was on-point.

She recounted the exchange that sent her off. I will spare you some of the more personal details, but the gist was, at one point, the dude-bro she was talking to flat out told her that she wasn’t marriage material.

Torn between wanting to be a supportive friend and being completely gobsmacked, I felt her frustration. No. That’s not quite right. I didn’t feel the same frustration she felt. I’m approaching what some consider middle age. I’m white. I’m primarily interested in women. Oh, and I have a penis., I can never truly feel the same frustration she was feeling. Or an anger that comes from the same place her anger came from. No matter how in touch I am witn my feminine side (whatever the fuck that actually means).

Instead, the frustration and anger I was feeling w…

Post Con-Fusion

It's 5:40 AM on a Wednesday. I have been up for an hour. I have an outline for a work in progress that I intended to work on this morning. I was in the middle of a chapter that I started at lunch and had every intention of continuing this morning. But, much like me, it seems the characters wanted to sleep in today. They wanted to just hunker under the covers as the rain danced its hypnotic melody on my roof. The swoosh swoosh swoosh of the ceiling fan keeping time with the rest of the nocturnal orchestra.

So, I shifted gears. I am taking  a course on getting more words on the page. Something that I want to do need to do if I am to get all of these books that are floating around in my head out in to the world. It's not so much that I think the whole world will love and adore them, although I certainly hope that is the case. No, it's more the fact that it's getting crowded up there. I need to get these words on the page for my own sanity as much as anything else.


The Kindness of Strangers

This post is going to be a little bit all over the place. If you know me, you are probably used to that by now. If you don't know me, welcome. My name is Todd. I'll be your slightly insecure author and docent on this tour of randomness we call Todd's Mind.

I am going to get a little real, and probably a little raw here today. I would normally be terrified of that. Of exposing myself to the world at large. But in looking at the stats for this blog in the 22weeks or so since I've left Facebook, the reality, I'm exposing myself to about 10 of you. Less if some of you come back and re-read some of the posts. So...yeah. Here goes.

I can count on 1 finger the number of times including today where I have run out of gas. Not talking about pulling into the gas station on vapors, but actually having the car die and coast to a stop because that life-giving dead dinosaur juice was no longer in the tank.

One time.


It's my own fault. I don't like to admit when I&#…