The following is an edited rant I posted on Craigslist yesterday. I decided it reflected my ancient disdain for mainstream society, my contempt for mindless consumption and the rotten ego-stroking such an economic engine requires, and my ire at tantrum-throwing golems who can't see past their meager, empty selves to notice the people trampled beneath their feet.
I'm sorry I accidentally dipped your bag of cotton candy into your nacho cheese last night.
But, seriously? What do you do about it? You were already whining about the prices ... like you've NEVER been to a movie theater, sporting event, carnival, etc. before? In light of that, it came as no surprise that rather than accept my apology and acknowledge that I cleaned the gunk off your bag of cotton candy, you instead started up with that entitled victim crap it seems everyone in this country's all about, all but demanding (in that tone we coolies know all too well indicates what spirit governs this interaction) that I “cut you a deal.” Bitch, please! Of course I wasn't about to fulfill your desire*. Besides, how would a box of Skittles, or whatever, have lubed those shards of corn tortillas down that gaping maw of yours? I told you the Moda Center would comp you for the lost sauce, but your ruffled feathers must've clogged your ears.
Anyone who can't plod forward through life without always trying to make people feel smaller than her, or vice versa, is a walking example of a particularly irksome little speck of banal evil. You aspire to spiritual cannibalism. Well, I don't play that game, not even for GOOD money! Yup, I'm a rebel, and I always have been; that's why I'm a loser, not because of any moral failings or shortcomings in the upstairs department. I just never could bring myself to gleefully partake in the vampire parade of society, but because all the frontiers are settled and no new penal colonies have been erected I'm stuck out here on the margins. The point being, I'm not kissing your or any other customer's ass — even if that attitude sends me out on the streets, picking up bottles and cans and doing occasional labor gigs to eke out a squalid existence.
I get that food's expensive at the Moda Center; it's part of why I've never gone to any events there. Which is pretty much the underlying point here: why in fuck would you drive to Portland, put up with its parking nightmare, and shill out all that time and money ... just to see something you'd probably get more out of from even a mediocre home theater set-up? Was it specifically to meander the concourse complaining about the prices and conniving freebies? I know that's what some people really do; I've done this before. Well, I don't give a shit; if you don't have the sense to actually enjoy yourself when you go out, don't think for a second that you're going to make that which is YOUR problem mine ... namely, that you're a more shit-for-brained and narcissistic consumer than are half the dope fiends digging holes in their faces down by the Saturday Market.
I wonder if I'll hear about this when I report for the Blazers game in a couple hours. Trust me, if I do it'll barely even be a slap on the wrist. And, I'll be back to my regular customers, who are at worst laggardly beyond credulity ... but never snap their fingers at me or lash their tongues at me, like I'm some goddamn Victorian bumboy!
* “Ich bin der Geist der stets verneint” is my favorite Göthe quote for a reason.
