McGillycuddy’s Revenge
While in the movie theater, if you’re complaining to your buddy about how expensive your $10 movie ticket is on your $600 iPhone as the movie’s playing, you will also be the first to see if that phone really tastes like an Apple as iShove it down your throat. Shut up! You waited 2 weeks in line to buy a phone that can walk on water and bring world peace. But NO!! Your movie ticket was too expensive. If you don’t get off that phone, everyone in this theater is going to throw you into the hot butter machine and watch you die.
Ever notice what’s in any brand of trail mix? You’ll see peanuts, raisins, sunflower seeds, raisins, etc. None of that stuff you’re likely to find on a nature trail. Right? Where’s the authentic trail mix? One day, I’d like to see them package stuff that you actually would see on a nature trail. Stuff like acorns, broken glass, rusted batteries, and crack hypodermic needles. That might be a hard sell, though. I guess.
Folks that wear surgical masks in public. ???? Why do you do it? Whatever you’re trying not to catch can seep through that filmsy mask, jackass. It isn’t exactly airtight. Your thinking ability is, though. Open your mind. Read the studies. You might as well take that mask off and breathe in the smog and other air pollutants like the rest of us are. The only thing that mask is doing is keeping a good portion of those nasty germs you expel from your mouth closer to your mouth. Or maybe you’re a really big ER or House fan. You have to live everyday like you’re on call or you just heard a code blue. Walking all fast like you’ve got an open heart surgery to perform at the intersection, or maybe you’re trying to outrun air. You’re scared of everything. Germs, rain, big clouds, and your reflection. Now, you’ve got all of America scared. Thanks a lot. Oops! Is that the ol’ school smallpox virus sitting on your shoulder like a parrot? You better get it off! “Virus wanna a cracker!” The humans vs. air molecules war will be televised on FOX.
If you hit me in your car when I’m crossing the street while I have the right-of-way and you kill me, my spirit’s haunting you, your family, friends, enemies, descendants, and neighbors. It’ll even haunt your ancestors’ spirits. Yeah, I already have a deal worked out with the boys at Afterlife, Inc. That’s right. They make sure that my interests are being met and I make sure that certain people (dumbasses) don’t make it to the afterlife. It’s a tough job, but I’m doing my best. Afterlife, Inc. is an Equal Opportunity Employer, but they do discriminate against people like this…
…the next brain surgeon that asks me if North Hollywood is north or south of Hollywood is going to have to figure out if my left or right foot is the most comfortable up his ass.
In the morning, some workers take water hoses and spray down the sidewalk in front of their place of business. One morning, I’m walking and the guy gives me the gas face (a look of pissedofftivity, circa 1989) because I’m walking on his newly, freshly wet sidewalk. Well, guess what, Hoseman? It’s a public sidewalk. That means it’s everyone’s, not just yours. Ooooh! And it’s a sidewalk. People walk on it. The verb is actually in the name. Don’t get mad because people walk on your artwork. Spray inside. That way, fewer people will have access to walk on it. Your boss may even give you a raise for sharing your artistic skill with the customers and other workers. Try it. Let me know what happens.
Ok. Let’s say I’m standing by an elevator. Envision that. You with me so far? Cool. Now, you walk up next to me. You notice that the elevator button’s lit. You see it’s lit, right? So why do you feel like you have to press the button yourself?!?! Is your elevator-push-button finger more intuned to elevatorism than my elevator-push-button finger? Or maybe you’re pushing it because you’re going in a different direction of “up” than I am? That could be it. Could it be? No, you village idiot. Repeatedly smacking on the button does not make it accelerate. But you repeatedly smacking your head on the wall might make you smarter. Meanwhile, you’ll just have to wait for the elevator. Like the rest of us. Like normal people do. You freak.
This may surprise those who know me. Normally, I’m pretty hard on kids, but this time, I’m actually in their corner. Yeah, I can’t believe it, either. Anyway, last week, a train station “cop” decided that he was going to slap a $250 ticket on this mom and her thristy, little son. The kid, obviously overwhelmed from the summer heat, needed a drink…badly. His mom gives him a sip of her Powerade. However, eating and drinking aren’t allowed on the train platform. Needless to say, the train cop is a bored f%% who was on break from scratching his crotch. Train cop, you’re a living, breathing puddle of the bum piss that you slurp up everyday to entertain yourself. Giving that kid’s mom a ticket for being a caring mom was pretty low, and this is coming from a guy that makes fun of kids on a weekly basis. I hope you feel good about yourself. I won’t tell you to stand in front of the next train like I usually do. Nah, I’m not angry. Just annoyed. Just lie down in front of it instead.
If you are talking your head off in public and you don’t have a Bluetooth or any other kind of wired or wireless phone connection to your ear, do not look at me like I’m the crazy one when I stare at you. Yeah, people talk to themselves all the time, but you sound like you’re having a round table discussion with the Teletubbies. Get away from me. You’re scaring me. You are freaking me the f&% out! Where’s that extra voice coming from? If I see that alien from that movie Aliens jump out of your chest, I’m sprinting away like Barry Bonds after an ice cream truck full of steroids.
Finally, this point goes back to an earlier blog. Just because I’m walking behind you does not mean that I’m stalking you. A few weeks ago, a woman in my neighborhood who has seen me and even spoken to me was walking her dog. I was walking to the grocery store on the same street. She was about a half a block ahead of me. She kept looking back at me. I even turned around to see if the Hamburglar was behind me or something. I sensed the tension. I crossed to the other side of the street. She crossed over, too. As this happens, she hangs up her cell and dials another number. By the time, I get to the grocery store, she’s rounded up a manager and they’re looking at me like I ushered the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse down the cereal aisle. Anyway, I ignored them and kept shopping. By the time, I returned to the checkout counter (no more than 4 minutes) the dog-walking lady’s gone. The manager begins to ring me up. She tells me that the lady thought I was stalking her and called the police on me. What’s even more bizarre is that the lady said I was walking with another guy, who was wearing a dark hoodie. No one was on the street but myself, this nutty chick, and her rat-ass lap dog. Long story short, a week later, the same woman passed me (without the dog) and said, “Hello. How are you today?” Hey! I’m doing fine enough to push your stupid ass off a cliff. The LAPD hunting down me and this imaginary man down is the last thing that I (and McGillycuddy–I’ve named the imaginary man since then) need right now. Thanks for setting back the neighborhood fifty years, ya gremlin. Next time I see you, I’m calling the cops, the FBI, Interpol, Homeland Security, the Armed Forces, the Boy Scouts, and the Salvation Army and tell them that you’re a terrorist. Uh huh, yeah! When they ask you if you’re really Osama Bin Laden’s lover that he met in a chat room and why you’re 1 on his MySpace friends list, you’ll know that was mine and McGillycuddy’s handiwork. Then I’ll finally answer your “How are you today?”….”$hit, I’m fantastic! How do those handcuffs feel, muthaf*****?”
Think Ink|Thinq Inq 