"I feel bad that I don't feel bad enough." - Darlene Conner
So this overly friendly person from work, Ms. Goody Poopoo, talked about her husband's dad having terminal cancer, only two weeks before Christmas 2012. In case you are as obtuse as those ASHY shri-mongering assholes, Christmas 2012 (or shortly before that precisely) was purported to be the end of the world, and we were all supposed to have already cleaned our houses and to always have clean underpants on just in case. Anyway...
Ms. Goody Poopoo's husband was not close to his own father. Naturally I, Sarcastic Yogi, had the answer to everything. Really, I had the "perfect" response. I gave the speech about having no regret... you know, I went through the same firgging thing with my parents... I looked after my mom after her surgery but I did it for myself... I achieved all that shit from a place of "no regret"... fluff, fluff and more fluff... I, Sarcastic Yogi, was an international sex symbol that dwarfed David Hasselhoff in speedos while licking a cucumber... add more fluff... well, you get my drift.
For a brief moment I thought I had it all figured out, and of course that's nowhere near the truth.
Shortly after my conversation with Ms. Goody Poopoo, an dastard opened fire in an elementary school in Connecticut killing many innocent lives. There is no word to describe my feelings towards this repulsive act of a fucktard... actually, I am not sure if "repulsive act of a fucktard" is the right description of the shooting or if the guy was a true fucktard. But I do know what the assholes from Westboro Baptist Church threatened to do was a repulsive act of a bunch true fucktards: those evolution rejects actually wanted to picket at the funerals of those children who were killed at Sandy Hook Elementary.
Succumbing to herd mentality and the almost unanimous outcry over the senseless violence, I immediately jumped on the "say a prayer" bandwagon before I got on the train of "gun control".
But it's never truly unanimous when it comes to human emotions.
In the beginning I thought I felt anger and sadness. On the surface it was not untrue (oh yeah! double negative!) that I was angry and sad. But what is the object of my emotions? What am I angry at? I don't know these people. So why am I sad? Or am I? Or are we trying to collectively project our own demons on others tragedy to have our own emotion blowout?
Fast forward a little...
Human nature never fails to entertain me. Some people's responses to the terrible incident in Connecticut were outlandishly fascinating.
Someone deduced how pharmaceutical companies were worse than gun, or something like that, because she has a beef with those companies and the doctors and lawyers hired by them... hmm... okay.
Some white dude, who insists to be addressed by his hand picked Hindu name, unleashed his repulsive mental diarrhea and went on about "everything is fine, all is well, the Whole is awesome, my hole is itchy, hare hare krishna...". According to this asshole, we just don't get it because we are not as awakened as he is. To be as awakened as he is, we need to buy his book. Bitch please!
Of course the fucktards from Westboro Baptist Church were a class act all the way.
Let's not forget Crusty Nono Myass never misses an opportunity as such to sell ASHY membership and to preach for her cheesy brand of forgiveness and compassion.
I guess it is fair to say there will always be opportunistic vultures who push their own agendas or sell their stupid book, even at the expense of someone's suffering.
Fast forward some more...