I don't know if it's the ozone, dietary habits or the incredible ease in obtaining prescription medication, but it seems to me that people are getting stranger and stranger. Now this isn't to say we didn't have our share of nut jobs back in the day, but the prevalence is increasing at an alarming rate.
While growing up in Brooklyn, my parents had a tenant who took them to court, accusing them of stomping their feet in the middle of the night and waking him up. He also said we had made rude remarks to him and were horrible landlords. So he had his day in court. Everything sounded like a valid complaint until he said that my brother (who was two at the time) would call him a "crazy homo" and that my parents used to pour hot wax through the cracks in the floor to burn him. Case dismissed! That was nearly 25 years ago and now that story almost seems tame.
Maybe I'm just more perceptive than I was in my youth, but the number of people who talk to themselves is growing by the day. I'm not talking about those people who have the little bluetooth (by the way, why is it called a bluetooth and not a blueear?) headset. I'm talking about people who mutter to themselves usually in an angry fashion. These people trouble me, because they are an answer back from pulling a Columbine at Stop & Shop. The other night I sat next to someone who was talking to themself during the majority of the Yankees game. Now I'm a die hard baseball fan, but when I start having conversations with nobody about the strategic ineptitude of Joe Gerardi, it's time for some couch time with Dr. Phil.
Another thing that bothers me is people's belief that they did something they didn't. I know the power of suggestion is great, but how does one go about tricking themself into believing a lie that they told. Read that sentence again, because just typing it confused the shit out of me. A guy recently told me, "I don't lie, because I'd never remember the lie. I'd rather just be an asshole that told the truth, whatever the consequences." Kind of makes sense, doesn't it? Listen, we've all told white lies to get out of a situation, but I can't remember ever telling a lie, just to tell a lie. We all have that friend who brags about having threesomes every Tuesday with supermodels and maybe, the wonder, that is Internet porn makes his fantasy a little clearer. Hey buddy, a mouse click and a vivid imagination doesn't make you a stud. It makes you a liar and borderline crazy.
One thing I've also noticed and love with a passion, is road rage. Listen, you get cut off, you're annoyed. You might even throw out a "motherfucker." But if you feel the need to chase down the car, pull up to the side and lambaste the other driver, you might need a hug (or a straight jacket). Most people can't drive very well. Once you accept that, you'll be fine. The other day, I watched, as three people tried to pull out of adjoining parking spots at the same time. It was comedy at the highest level. Finally it happened, one woman bumped the other's car. Instead of pulling back into the spots to discuss the dilemma, they stopped in the middle of the street. I thought this was hilarious and it only got better when a cop came to yell at them and tell them to move, when the woman who caused the distress had her car stall. I was behind this and while everyone else was honking and yelling, I was smiling and had only wished I had some hot buttered popcorn. It dawned at me while leaving the bank that this wasn't due to negligence, but sheer insanity. Why if you saw the person next to you pulling out would you not wait?
There are another couple of things that concern me. Why would you walk into a deli and not have some inkling of what you want? And when they ask you what you would like on the sandwich, please understand that the whole condiment/lettuce & tomato idea isn't a new revelation. Why would you stand at a street corner with you on the sidewalk with your baby in a stroller, in the street? Can any good come of this? If you're in a restaurant and the order comes with fries, try to accept that a baked potato or a small salad might be a viable option, but one of the appetizers is not. This is not up for debate. Also, parents, if you're taking your kid out to get chicken nuggets, don't go to a restaurant that serves chicken fingers and think your sulen offspring won't know they aren't the same. There is real chicken in those and they aren't used to it, because apparently you are to Julia Child what Stevie Wonder is to darts.
Oh and here is a little work complaint. I work for a business that performs a service. If you call us or any other company you wish to come to your disheveled dwelling, there are certain rules to follow. If you tell me the problem and ask if we can come at 3pm and I say yes, this should not be the exchange.
Me: Sure where do you live?
Customer: Scarsdale
Me: OK, where in Scarsdale?
Customer: Do you know where the Temple on Weaver Street is?
Me (sighing with displeasure): Yes, but what is the address?
Customer: It's the yellow house, 3rd, sorry, 4th house on the left.
Me: What is the street number and the name of the street?
Customer: Oh, it's *****
Me: OK, what's your phone number?
Customer: Do you want my home number or the cell? I might not be home.
Me: Will you be home when we arrive?
Customer: I should. Let me give you both.
This is about the point where I've got the telephone cord wrapped around my neck, draped over a beam, ready to jump off the chair. Sadly, this silly exchange takes place almost daily. Thankfully, I have a sense of humor, because if I didn't, I'd probably end up going to the person's house and pulling a Charles Bronson on them.
So what is it? When did society become a group of loony characters? Is it because about twenty years ago half the kids in elementary school were on Ritalin in an attempt to make them zombie like dolls who didn't need much parenting? I can't blame it all on that, because older people are just as crazy as the kids 20-30, but there is a word for that. Senility. I know people I went to HS who are absolutely out of their minds. I call them friends, some call them a Sling Blade. Is it the overuse of drugs? I know more pot heads, teeth grinding coke addicts and Valium induced sleep walkers now than I ever did as a crazy adolescent. So what is it?
Here's my theory. You take schools being easier, you take off all educational TV shows and replace them with "reality" and your idea of parenting is nuggets and Jerry Springer, so you raise idiots. These idiots don't understand basic concepts. Thus they are forced to try and figure out all of life's complexities, like making change, ordering meals and driving all by themselves. Due to the fact they don't process thoughts like us normal people, they are forced to talk to themselves. Because they spend so much time in self-conversation they become social lepers. Their families disown them and they turn to drugs to bring themselves out of despair. Their only contact with the outside world is to either call me to schedule appointments or sit next to me at the bar. Sometimes I don't mind, because I tell myself "If I was talking to this person it would be boring, but this person has multiple personalities, so it's a party. The more the merrier." I just worry that one day I'll be sitting alone in my apartment, thinking I'm at a New Year's Eve party in mid August, chatting with all my "friends." Then someone can write about me. Their crazy friend.
While growing up in Brooklyn, my parents had a tenant who took them to court, accusing them of stomping their feet in the middle of the night and waking him up. He also said we had made rude remarks to him and were horrible landlords. So he had his day in court. Everything sounded like a valid complaint until he said that my brother (who was two at the time) would call him a "crazy homo" and that my parents used to pour hot wax through the cracks in the floor to burn him. Case dismissed! That was nearly 25 years ago and now that story almost seems tame.
Maybe I'm just more perceptive than I was in my youth, but the number of people who talk to themselves is growing by the day. I'm not talking about those people who have the little bluetooth (by the way, why is it called a bluetooth and not a blueear?) headset. I'm talking about people who mutter to themselves usually in an angry fashion. These people trouble me, because they are an answer back from pulling a Columbine at Stop & Shop. The other night I sat next to someone who was talking to themself during the majority of the Yankees game. Now I'm a die hard baseball fan, but when I start having conversations with nobody about the strategic ineptitude of Joe Gerardi, it's time for some couch time with Dr. Phil.
Another thing that bothers me is people's belief that they did something they didn't. I know the power of suggestion is great, but how does one go about tricking themself into believing a lie that they told. Read that sentence again, because just typing it confused the shit out of me. A guy recently told me, "I don't lie, because I'd never remember the lie. I'd rather just be an asshole that told the truth, whatever the consequences." Kind of makes sense, doesn't it? Listen, we've all told white lies to get out of a situation, but I can't remember ever telling a lie, just to tell a lie. We all have that friend who brags about having threesomes every Tuesday with supermodels and maybe, the wonder, that is Internet porn makes his fantasy a little clearer. Hey buddy, a mouse click and a vivid imagination doesn't make you a stud. It makes you a liar and borderline crazy.
One thing I've also noticed and love with a passion, is road rage. Listen, you get cut off, you're annoyed. You might even throw out a "motherfucker." But if you feel the need to chase down the car, pull up to the side and lambaste the other driver, you might need a hug (or a straight jacket). Most people can't drive very well. Once you accept that, you'll be fine. The other day, I watched, as three people tried to pull out of adjoining parking spots at the same time. It was comedy at the highest level. Finally it happened, one woman bumped the other's car. Instead of pulling back into the spots to discuss the dilemma, they stopped in the middle of the street. I thought this was hilarious and it only got better when a cop came to yell at them and tell them to move, when the woman who caused the distress had her car stall. I was behind this and while everyone else was honking and yelling, I was smiling and had only wished I had some hot buttered popcorn. It dawned at me while leaving the bank that this wasn't due to negligence, but sheer insanity. Why if you saw the person next to you pulling out would you not wait?
There are another couple of things that concern me. Why would you walk into a deli and not have some inkling of what you want? And when they ask you what you would like on the sandwich, please understand that the whole condiment/lettuce & tomato idea isn't a new revelation. Why would you stand at a street corner with you on the sidewalk with your baby in a stroller, in the street? Can any good come of this? If you're in a restaurant and the order comes with fries, try to accept that a baked potato or a small salad might be a viable option, but one of the appetizers is not. This is not up for debate. Also, parents, if you're taking your kid out to get chicken nuggets, don't go to a restaurant that serves chicken fingers and think your sulen offspring won't know they aren't the same. There is real chicken in those and they aren't used to it, because apparently you are to Julia Child what Stevie Wonder is to darts.
Oh and here is a little work complaint. I work for a business that performs a service. If you call us or any other company you wish to come to your disheveled dwelling, there are certain rules to follow. If you tell me the problem and ask if we can come at 3pm and I say yes, this should not be the exchange.
Me: Sure where do you live?
Customer: Scarsdale
Me: OK, where in Scarsdale?
Customer: Do you know where the Temple on Weaver Street is?
Me (sighing with displeasure): Yes, but what is the address?
Customer: It's the yellow house, 3rd, sorry, 4th house on the left.
Me: What is the street number and the name of the street?
Customer: Oh, it's *****
Me: OK, what's your phone number?
Customer: Do you want my home number or the cell? I might not be home.
Me: Will you be home when we arrive?
Customer: I should. Let me give you both.
This is about the point where I've got the telephone cord wrapped around my neck, draped over a beam, ready to jump off the chair. Sadly, this silly exchange takes place almost daily. Thankfully, I have a sense of humor, because if I didn't, I'd probably end up going to the person's house and pulling a Charles Bronson on them.
So what is it? When did society become a group of loony characters? Is it because about twenty years ago half the kids in elementary school were on Ritalin in an attempt to make them zombie like dolls who didn't need much parenting? I can't blame it all on that, because older people are just as crazy as the kids 20-30, but there is a word for that. Senility. I know people I went to HS who are absolutely out of their minds. I call them friends, some call them a Sling Blade. Is it the overuse of drugs? I know more pot heads, teeth grinding coke addicts and Valium induced sleep walkers now than I ever did as a crazy adolescent. So what is it?
Here's my theory. You take schools being easier, you take off all educational TV shows and replace them with "reality" and your idea of parenting is nuggets and Jerry Springer, so you raise idiots. These idiots don't understand basic concepts. Thus they are forced to try and figure out all of life's complexities, like making change, ordering meals and driving all by themselves. Due to the fact they don't process thoughts like us normal people, they are forced to talk to themselves. Because they spend so much time in self-conversation they become social lepers. Their families disown them and they turn to drugs to bring themselves out of despair. Their only contact with the outside world is to either call me to schedule appointments or sit next to me at the bar. Sometimes I don't mind, because I tell myself "If I was talking to this person it would be boring, but this person has multiple personalities, so it's a party. The more the merrier." I just worry that one day I'll be sitting alone in my apartment, thinking I'm at a New Year's Eve party in mid August, chatting with all my "friends." Then someone can write about me. Their crazy friend.
I just love your slightly off kilter take on humanity. Your powers of observation are second only to your way with words. Keep it up, Hop. We all need a daily chuckle and sometimes a great guffaw (whatever that is...)Thanx much.
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