“Hello everyone. My name is Curmudgeon.”
“Hi Curmudgeon.”
“I guess I’m here because what has happened in America, and throughout what was once called ‘western society’, since March 13th, 2020 is literally torture.”
“Dude, that’s kinda’ dark.”
“Tough shit. It’s true. And when I say literally I fuckin’ mean ‘literally‘. Don’t pull a Millennial and think I mean ‘figuratively‘.”
“It’s not that bad.”
“Bullshit. There’s a spectrum between ‘hassled by Karen’ and ‘shot by the Stasi’. Just because I’m not in a North Korean prison doesn’t mean I’m not getting hammered. We all are. Torture is cumulative and small things add up. What is hardly noticeable over hours or days can break you over months or years.”
“This is a support group. How is any of this supportive?”
“I brought a whoopie cushion.”
“What? That’s not what…”
BRAAAAAAAP!
“Ok that’s funny.”
“I feel better. Do you?”
“Actually, yes.”
“My work here is done.”
OK, so that’s a weird introduction, but y’all know me. I think six miles outside the shredded remnants of what once was a box. More to the point, I’m pretty fuckin’ tired of the bullshit from 2020’s shitstorm and the even more annoying continuing disaster that is 2021. It’s driving me nuts and it’s pissing me off.
Which is exactly the point.
I’m not alone. You feel it too. It was done on purpose. It’s working. So long as it’s working, it will continue.
Which brings up the question, what do you do at the darkest time? Light a candle dumbass. That’s what you do. You create any tiny bit of refuge you can. First for yourself and then for others. About a month ago I discussed just that… I started with the need to create and how we’re surrounded (and “led”) by people who can only tear down. Then I explained that I chose to write satire rather than a personal project with my welder because it’s not just me that’s sick of the bullshit. Perhaps my efforts, no matter how small, might cheer up someone who needs it?
A bit pretentious of me isn’t it? Then again, all creation is doing something for which you can be ridiculed. When I made my own boat people stampeded to tell me it would sink. What’s wrong with people? I knew damn well how boats and water work. It was a risk I’d chosen to take. What good is in the hearts of men when they say such things? I ignored them and did my best. I love my little boat and the sucker floats like a duck!
Back on topic, the same bullshit that has gotten me down… and you… was affecting Joel at The Ultimate Answer To Kings. He mentioned in public (!) that he was not on board with the mask thing. Folks came out of the woodwork to hassle him. I presume these are the same sort that made sure to tell me my boat might sink. Those people aren’t helping. They wear us down. They slowly get to you. They’re human clouds searching for a parade upon which to rain.
Joel reflected on the negativity: “I wasn’t expecting that. It didn’t just surprise me, it depressed me.”
Which is exactly the point.
This is where the story goes in an unexpected direction.
“Happily, though, I happened to drop in on the Adaptive Curmudgeon, a little place on TUAK’s blogroll that I admit I don’t visit every day – and to my delight I found that he had resumed telling the tale of The Lesbian Activist Squirrels.
…that made it a perfect antidote for yesterday’s mood, and I spent most of the afternoon re-reading it. And now I feel much better.”
I wrote my story hoping someone somewhere would have a good day. It worked! Joel’s blog post was confirmation. I sure appreciate his reaction! It may be the best compliment I’ve ever gotten. It’s the whole point of everything! If I didn’t want to make people laugh I’d just tell the story to my puppy, or a tree stump.
There’s a second part. Joel’s post was titled “So you think I’m a bad man? No, I’m a pussycat. Let me introduce you…” To me? No shit! I never really thought about myself that way. I’m just a half assed homesteader who talks to trees.
I’m compelled to mock stuff because the world we’re in is… well it’s stupid. You can’t take stupid shit seriously. Why? Because it’s stupid shit!
Also, people who can’t laugh are dangerous assholes. I don’t trust anyone without a sense of humor. Each humorless dickhead is a powertrip ready to launch. They’re bullies and monsters looking for someone else’s fear to nourish their growth. There seem to be an exceptional crop of humorless wokescolds these days. Fortunately, they collapse like the hollow thing they are as soon as someone chuckles. Laughter is asshole Kryptonite.
I’ve been in the habit of laughing at PC crap so long I forget it’s an accomplishment. Thankfully, Joel noticed. I want his quote on my tombstone:
He was never…
ever…
EVER…
politically correct.
Of course, I already had plans for my tombstone:
The boat floated. Fuck you.
Anyway, it was great to have a dose of external validation! Please go to The Ultimate Answer to Kings and give it a read. It’s good stuff. Joel’s stories of the off grid desert life are excellent.