Rants

I know, another ranting boring post. Sorry. You should have figured that out from the title and not even opened it. Although I have done some cooking and baking and some of it was even good and I am even making some progress on the garden, I am just not in the mood to post about it.

It's amazing how disappointing people are. No matter how low you set your expectations, they seem to find a way to get under that. Maybe not every time. But often enough. Too often.

I am turning more and more sociopathic. If that's even possible. It frustrates me horribly when you try to do something that helps someone else out and they keep you from being able to do it. And then they bitch about you trying to do it. I seem to constantly be mad at people for their incompetence and general worthlessness.

I would do so much better in a world without people. Maybe one day I'll go 'off the grid' and live off the land and become a hermit. Well not really off the grid because I like electricity and city water and heat and air conditioning and internet and chocolate. But somehow I need to not have to deal with people. I thought being an engineer, you would deal with ideas and things. Little did I know that people would find a way to creep in there and screw everything up.

Yes, vague, incoherent with a hint of angry. I guess probably more than a hint. Tough luck. If you want better, go somewhere else.

Here's a poem that epitomizes my mood. One of the only poems I actually know from memory. Although I copy and pasted it from somewhere rather than typing it because I'm lazy. Although when I searched for it so I could copy and paste, I found some blog where some asshole wrote how this poem provides no value to society and that's what caused Columbine or something along those lines. Wrong. It's arrogant assholes like you that make people want you dead and cause things like Columbine.


Frustration

If I had a shiny gun,
I could have a world of fun
Speeding bullets through the brains
Of the folk who give me pains;

Or had I some poison gas,
I could make the moments pass
Bumping off a number of
People whom I do not love.

But I have no lethal weapon-
Thus does Fate our pleasure step on!
So they still are quick and well
Who should be, by rights, in hell.

-- Dorothy Parker