
by Ex-PH2
I need brain bleach. I really do.
It’s seldom that you get a chance to see 5- year-old spoiled brats pretending to be adults (because that’s the size they are) and exercise their inalienable rights, but when their perfect pick loses the contest, they go into a full-blown, screaming fit of hysterics? These are future parents and leaders?
Oh. My. God. It was a contest. There was only one winner in the contest, and no one else gets the prize. I figured if shrillary did win, she’d immediately revert to her real self and conveniently forget all those promises she’d made. But she’d also be butting heads with a Republican Congress (which did happen) and they might not like her choices for important things. Add to that her impaired health, which has not been as well hidden as her party pretended, and I thought that if nothing else, she’d drop dead in her tracks after 18 to 20 months and that would be the end of it. And yet, most of the people I knew who detest her were worried that she’d be sending BATFE agents everywhere to collect privately-owned guns and ammo and they’d have to head for the hills, etc., etc., etc. And the worst part: she’d never be prosecuted for mishandling secure documents, etc.
I was getting a headache from swiveling my head back and forth, so I shut off the angst-ridden repartee, and hoped that people would vote the crazypants crap out of the picture. Well, that did happen. I was up until after 2:30AM Wednesday morning, keeping track of everything as if it were football scores.
But we must also remember that the Chicago Cubs not only got to the World Series for the first time since 1945; they also won the World Series, for the first time since 1908. So I decided more than a week ago that something was in the air, massive change was coming, and I just watched quietly. And made notes.
And change did come. Massive change arrived, quietly creeping in on little cat feet, on a temperate, thoughtful acceptance speech, and an affable meeting between two people on Thursday.
But on Wednesday night, some greasy, skanky, smelly ragtag numbnuts decided they were going to let the entire world know that, as overgrown children with no self control, decent manners or social graces, and brains the size of a pea, they were ready to destroy an entire city if they had to do so, just to let us all know how very unhappy they are with losing a contest that has only one winner.
They therefore stopped a CTA bus, climbed onto its roof on Lake Shore Drive in Chicago, shut down that traffic route, blocked other streets, tried to burn some unknown thing (I hope they inhaled the smoke and got some stuff on themselves), and blocked people from entering or leaving a residential highrise on private property (Trump Tower) in Chicago, ditto in NYC, because THEY LOST!!!!
This happened in several cities, by the way, not just Chicago. Reporters said thousands. I counted a few hundreds, not thousands. And I wondered, while I watched, just how long it will take until these greasy, stinking, unattractive, illiterate social morons grow up.
I was so glad to turn 21, to be legally an adult, and responsible for making my own decisions about my life, and never happier than when I signed up with the Navy on my 21st birthday. It pissed my mother off no end, but that was not the reason I did it. I wanted to be on my own.
This generation of widget-brains is something I don’t understand. They want all the stuff. They don’t want to work for it. Sorry, but it comes with a price, kiddies. It’s called mature adulthood.
What I see in these idiotic reactions to a lawful process in which there is only one winner is an entire generation of people who are so dysfunctional that they will be lucky if they manage to get jobs emptying wastebaskets and cleaning portapotties. I have never seen such unreasoning anger over nothing. The protests I saw and ran into during the Vietnam War are nothing by comparison.
This is what happens when everyone wins a prize because competing is somehow an abnormal thing to do? Geez, Loueezz, they really do need their own planet. Life is about competition. You compete for food, money, sex, clothes, attention; you name it, there’s competition for it. The biggest competition now seems to be about getting attention, being seen on TV or online.
Remember that birdbrain in the northeast who made fun of the people she worked with at an adult facility, because they were somehow less than she was? (Yeah, me neither.) And the backlash that followed? Attention-whoring has almost become a national pastime. Everyone (except me) has a camera stuck on a jacket or shirt. If someone is stopped by a cop, it’s the cop’s fault and the video shows it, even if that isn’t the case. If a dog is rescued from a freezing river, it’s national news somehow.
Even that bastion of information – the press, now known as the ‘media’ – can’t keep its opinions to itself. Real journalism went out the window a while back, not sure when. Might have been a Wednesday, just before a holiday sale.
The angst-ridden tabloiders aren’t reporters, not the kind that I grew up reading. They are poor copies, mockeries of gossip columnists like Louella Parsons and Hedda Hopper in Hollywood, and Liz Smith in New York City. If it isn’t sensational, it isn’t news. No one wants to know about your kid’s birthday party, where a lot of kids had a real good time, including the kids down the block who don’t speak much English. No, the media want to know that the bouncy house you rented broke loose and flew away in a high gust of wind, and six of those kids were hurt.
It’s like watching vultures land near a dying animal and starting to tear into it before it’s actually dead.
So let’s stop calling the news mavens ‘reporters’, because they aren’t. Let’s name them what they are: vultures*, carrion crows, hyenas. Eaters of the Dead. They still won’t let a dead woman who married a prince rest in her grave, and they are the people who drove her there. The sensational thing about her was not her death, but her life. No matter how hard they tried, they still couldn’t smear that down to their level of scumbaggery.
What I find most puzzling is the endemic hatred they have for anything that really is good and worthwhile. They seem to want to worship trash, rot and mold.
They’ve done their damnedest to turn an aging, bad-tempered old sow into a goddess, and that didn’t work, either. The sturm und drang, the angst, the weeping, wailing and gnashing of teeth from the outer darkness of what used to be journalism, and the public meltdowns by drooling masses of little kids in adult bodies wanting freebies are just plain boring.
The women lining up now to get cash out of Trump are ridiculous. A peorn actress is offended that he kissed her? She gets paid to have sex on film, and I’m supposed to sympathize with that claptrap?
Excuse me while I fall down laughing and pointing.
The disconnect from reality requires a certain level of stamina and a hard dose of brain bleach.
Grow the fuck up.
*No offense meant to vultures, carrion crows and hyenas in general, but – well, you are scavengers, you know, thus, the analogy is correct.