I try not to be a surly misanthropist, but it gets difficult sometimes when you encounter untold nincompoopery at every turn. Anyway, here are the three reasons I'm hating people at the moment:
1. Some lame-brains sparked a wildfire in California after using an incendiary device at a gender reveal party. This occurred on or about 8 September. I will admit to being one of those people who does not get the appeal of this type of gathering, but then again, I did not want to be informed of my unborn children's sex. When pregnant with my first, it was necessary for me to undergo a CVS. I informed the clinic I did not want to be told the baby's gender, but somebody in the doctor's surgery sent me paperwork where it was clearly printed: 'XY - MALE'. I was furious at this blunder and practically ripped them a new arsehole. This was NOT the way I wanted to learn about my baby's gender. It was soulless and upsetting. I learned my second child's gender when the midwife handed him to me. Which is what I wanted. I understand some people cannot wait to know, and respect their right to find out if it is their wish. But I do not understand the Byzantine lengths to which people go just to let other people know about their unborn kid's junk. I'm trying to imagine how this kid will feel when he is older and realises his folks were such colossal bogans they did a blue-smoke burnout and sparked a conflagration that destroyed plants and wildlife.
2. People have been abusing the lineswoman in the Novak Djokovic disqualification incident. Look, da rulez is da rulez, and Djokovic did something that warranted disqualification, okay? Why abuse the woman who was hit by the ball? It wasn't her fault. Those of you decrying the level of her injury, let me tell you this: you don't get to decide another person's pain threshold. Maybe the ball would not have hurt you personally, but I would love to see a fit tennis player whack a fast one at your respective throats to test the theory. You don't have to hold qualifications in ballistics to understand being hit with a ball can hurt. The woman was hit in the throat and neck area; what if she had been asthmatic? How cowardly to send her threats over this, and the threats likely come from obese losers clouded with acrid body odour, hiding behind their keyboards set up on their parents' basements.
3. So-called journalists writing for The Australian about Catherine Andrews (wife of Victorian Premier Daniel Andrews) blocking some of them on Twitter. Given that the Murdoch press has done nothing but vilify her husband, why would she NOT block some of you on Twitter? It is her right. She is a private citizen and can choose what she wishes to see in her feed. But why do you write about this? Let me tell you something: this does NOT constitute news! I had a look at the obnoxious article wherein it was stated Melbourne had gone 'full Mean Girls'. Do the bimbos who write this shit have any concept of irony? Is this what people aspire to when they decide to pursue journalism as a career? Is this the legacy of Woodward and Bernstein? Great steaming shitballs, I would be embarrassed to have written such a fatuous load of rubbish.
Oh well, I must away. Those who know me well know I turn to music when I don't feel great. Music has lately had quite the Sisyphean task, given there has been nothing but misery in the news of late. Yesterday, I turned to Here Comes the Sun by George Harrison. It's a beautiful song, and its message resonates today. Also, there is a hospital where it is played when a Covid patient is declared fit and healthy again. Oh, bless and love.
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