Wednesday, July 24, 2013

Cavemen and Movies Help You Hate Strangers!

      I'm an abrasive person...I think...I don't know. When referring to peoples unknown, I call them "fuck face" or something equivalent, it's not to be mean. Really.

      Well, for instance, when I see two strangers walking, conversing, fondling each other...whatever, and I want to call attention to one of them, I'll say, "Hey, look at that "fuck face" over there.". Usually, this garners a response of "Which one?" from whomever I'm attempting to show the "fuck face" to. It's not the best way to address or reference a stranger, I know, but, what harm does it do? I don't know them and they aren't within earshot to hear me calling them a "fuck face". It's a victim-less sort of rudeness.

     I could have just said, "Look at that person." or "Check at that guy.", I guess. It doesn't carry the same non-sequitur weight as a good, well placed "fuck face", however. By adding a little touch of venom to an otherwise boring moniker, everyone benefits from it's entertainment.

      When I started doing this I'm not entirely sure. Actually, it was just recently brought to my attention. That I was doing it at all was unknown to me. This revelation, of course, triggered a deeply analytic self-evaluation regarding my current catalog of generic, degradation labeling I bestow on strangers. Well, not only strangers, but, their many "fuck face" counterparts (cashiers, pimps, pizza guys, pimps). It also sparked an epiphany regarding my relationships with other human beings.

Fuck Faces


Hahaha...no, not that kind of fuck face, fuck face.

      In my defense, everyone does exactly what I do. Maybe, not to the vulgar "Who...that "dip shit" over there?" variety, but, still, we all give people character labels from a distance. Then, again, maybe you're worse. Actually, I kind of hope you are, because then I can feel better about myself. 

      Your boosting of my self worth aside, I believe I've nailed the inner condescension aimed at strangers down! The answers are so wildly astounding and numerous, your mind will melt from the sheer volume that I have culled...

There are two reasons. Two.

I Blame Cavemen!


Scientific rendering of the worlds first dick joke.

      I am a modern human being and like most, modern humans, I am quick to blame anyone but myself when it comes to personal problems. Though, arguably, what I propose makes sense. My inability to lather myself in the stank soap of guilt has driven me to discover a far more vibrant reason behind it all. A reason that is not my fault or what is commonly referred to as "the best reason"

Slapping a friendly "dick nose" or even a bland "walking abortion" moniker on strangers is written in my DNA. All of our DNA. We fucking hate strangers!

      Allow me to convince you. Way back, when nudity was clothing and knowledge was witchcraft and a felony, cavemen palled around. It was a lot how I imagine rural Kentucky is now; a lot of inbred families moving from place to place loosing teeth, hunting wabbit and oil ( you know, black gold...Texas tea.)

      These super old school hillbillies were all familiar with each other because, well, they were around each other all the damned time and were blood related. So, naturally, when they saw someone who wasn't a cousin, they reacted with wary curiosity. Wouldn't you? Who would know if this new guy wasn't down with the inter-boning of the inbred orgy? Maybe he was down with boning farm animals or worse...STRANGERS! Our ancient Kentuckians had family/lovers to protect. So, naturally ANY stranger was labelled as...I don't know..."fuck face". 

      Fast forward a couple of thousand years and here I am, instinctively slapping the term "fart nuts" on a stranger. Thank you for validity evolution! Elton remains blameless. I would leave it at that...and you could whimper and scrounge around for a poorly worded apology, but, we both know you've nothing to apologize for and there's more to it than just inbred cavemen fearing stranger rape. No. There's much more...

I Blame Theater!


and movies...and t.v. ALL of it.

      When it comes to things being wrong with humanity, who am I to exclude the media? We blame that shit for everything! Politics, discrimination, sexual inequality, sexual inequality, the pussification of vampires are all things the demon called media has pee peed on! 

      So, in the spirit of wholesale shitting on the media, allow me to lay a log, upper deck style. Lesser men have resorted to laying blame at the foot of theatrical pursuits and I am one of those lesser folk. 

      Though, I am not deft with finding, nor plying a deep, philosophical ideological reason, regarding the media and me describing a passerby as "dong hole" and why or how theater (and it's cinema, television and sweet porno) are eroding the soul of mankind. I will say that I'm perfectly comfortable with said erosion, as long as there are titties. Really, I'm okay.

Large cinematic knockers aside, my use of theater as a reason is far more trite and mechanical. Namely, I blame "credits". 

That's right, movie credits, theater programs with credits, show credits...CREDITS. Those things that run after a movie that everyone leaves during. 

Those.

       What the fuck are you on?, you might be asking? Well, two much pizza, homemade gin and un-labeled pills for one, but, that's not the point. Credits are to blame for labeling strangers with names like "ball slapper", "Ziggy McShit Stuff" and "Mama's little mistake". 

      When we watch movies, inevitably the question of "I wonder who those nameless people are in the background are?", crosses our minds at some point. So, as anyone astute to wasting time, we might wait around and watch the credits roll. Perusing a little further down the list we eventually run into people like "Nameless Asshole #1" or "Customer In Shop". 

      Quickly, we relegate them to the seedy realm of un-importance, because if they were important they would be the one polishing Brad Pitts knob. Shit, they would probably have a fucking name! Given enough movie watching, we're subconsciously taught a hierarchy of sorts. Those in the foreground: important; those in the background: nameless, no body dick bags. 

      Slap that same construct on your life (which we unknowingly do regardless) and you get: you: the Brad Pitt equivalent main guy, friends and family: co-stars and them...background folk you couldn't give a shit about. 

      So, being that those who are not in your life/movie directly, are mostly unimportant, you are free to label them as you wish. Be it, "Baldy Fat Flydown" or "Miss Bulgymidriff Missingtooth", it doesn't matter...that is until they become main players in your...uh...play. 

      So, my designating some random guy that I'll probably never interact with as "Tardhat PantsAss" is perfectly normal. It's normal for you to do it too! Feel free to feel no shame. It's only natural...and programmed into us by our own divorce from what is socially acceptable and reality, via the morally absent and displaced emotional facade of theater and it's various incarnations.

Holy fuck...was that philosophical?


Kindly Bookmark and Share it:

No comments:

Post a Comment

Comment. Lest your fear consume you, cry baby.