Well, this morning's state of bliss didn't last...what a shock. I was reminded today about a class of people who should have their own special room in Hell...I'm talking, of course, of those inconsiderate assholes who leave shopping carts in the middle of parking spaces. It's bad enough to have to deal with SUV driving idiots who won't put down the damn cell phone long enough to squeeze their own personal Panzer division properly between the yellow lines, but to get teased into thinking you have found a great parking spot just one away from the handicapped armada, only to find that some lazy-assed nitwit has left their fucking cart dead center. And what's worse is that there is usually one of those cart corralls mere steps away!! I have had to deal with the 'that doesn't mean me' mindset(not that any of these micro-cephallic meat-puppets have much of a mind to speak of) ever since my two years of purgatory I like to call my Taco Viva years back in the early '80's, and the longer I have to put up with it, the madder I get. And it's not only in the service industry that we have to deal with this. You can put up as many 'The Lobby Doors Will Open At 7:30" signs as you want in front of your theatre, and there will still be some tiny-brained imbecile with a sense of entitlement as wide as the ass of their lime-green Sans-A-Belts banging on the glass at 6:50 demanding to come in.
It seems to me that the world is getting dumber, and ruder, and I don't know what to do. As technology, and with it our understanding of the universe, grows, it seems to me that the average human brain atrophies. Before too long the few of us who remember how to read and think will be surrounded by a hoard of drooling, mouth-breathing pinheads who think they are cultured because they just bought The Rock's new book on CD so they can listen to it as they cruise around in their computerized land-yachts, and blame everyone from The Government to Michael Moore for their problems. I urge any of you who can still read to go out and pick up a copy of Farenheit 451, by Ray Bradbury. He's not my favorite author, but he seems to be frighteningly prophetic in this book.
And now if you'll excuse me I'm going to sharpen my keys and head for the grocery store.