Generally, I am a pretty easy-going and forgiving guy. But all this week, we have been putting in two extra hours of work to get caught up on production. Before, when we were working ten hour shifts, I was very short-tempered, not getting enough sleep, and just being a miserable old bastard. The thing is, when we went back to eight hour/five day shifts, I became much more mellow. But make me work more than eight hours, it tests me. I don’t mind the work, it’s just that I tend to get a little narrow-minded when dealing with people. I try to keep the work problems at work, and the outside shit where it belongs. But occasionally, the two worlds collide. This morning I wanted to go postal like Michael Douglas in “Falling Down.” After a busy night at work, I just wanted to go to Dunkin’ Donuts, get my large decaf, get on the cattlecar, (the South Avenue/OCC bus) and get home. Most of the time, I put on the Bluetooth headphones, fire up the Amazon CloudDrive, and listen to the tunes that I have on my smartphone. This morning, I changed it up a little and just decided to read The Huffington Post to catch up on the political bullshit that is going on. Being in a pissed off mood, I decided to take a photo of myself and post it to Facebook. (The photo I took is the one that you see in this post.)
Sitting across from me in the cattlecar, there was this fact fucking bearded mouthbreather, and he and when se saw me take a picture with my phone, decided to quiz me about my phone and the plan that I on. Pretty much most of the time, I just keep to myself, respond if I am spoken to, but generally keep myself in a low-key state, because I am usually wiped out from work. But this asshole decided to chat me up like he was a cockatiel on crystal meth. These are the PTF’s (public transit fucktards) that I avoid like the plague. They are subhuman mouthbreathers who try to impress you with what they think they know (your typical tea-partier) and just generally talk for the sake of hearing themselves talk. This asshole decided that he wanted to show me his smartphone and how great it is. (What the fuck is this? Some sort of fucking smartphone pecker-check? ) The thing is I am NOT impressed with what fucking phone you have (my antipathy for the iPhone and their users is well documented.) I could have impressed this fucking mouthbreather with my knowledge about technology, but I am not the kind of “fish in a barrel” person that most geeks are when talking about technology. What I wanted to do, is get a wire garrote, wrap it around his neck, and yell in his ear “CAN YOU HEAR ME NOW, MOTHERFUCKER??? CAN YOU????” But of course, being a rational and law-abiding citizen, I do not.
Let’s get one thing straight, I am an all-out, balls-to the wall misanthrope. There are very few people that I will associate with, generally my family, my co-workers, and others who share my contempt for the sheep/cattle that our country has become. I detest the mouthbreathers who think that they know it all, I detest the people who play a card (the race card, religion card, sex card/sexuality card) and I detest people who think that their shit doesn’t stink because they are of a higher status than the plebiscite (which is what I am.) I detest the 1-percenters, for shitting on this country (mainly the far-right politicians who watched “Wall Street” too many times and took “greed is good” to heart.) I also detest the far-right douchebags who say that they want “less government” but want to deny me and my partner the right to marry through legislation. I detest the fucking welfare queens who wear fashionable clothes, all the bling, pay for their groceries with food stamps, and then want to get cash back when they use their benefit cards, and then climb into high-end SUV’s.
Do any of you assholes wonder why I am pissed off, and I just want you to LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE?
-30-
(c) Copyright 2011, Mattydale Pictures LLC, all rights reserved.
Well in case all of you have noticed, I was in the hospital for eight days, from March 6th, until today. What happened was, I was having trouble with a umbilical hernia repair that I had done in September of 2007. I must have strained something at work, and the mesh that was holding the repair got infected. I didn’t notice any real problems until the 6th when I told Dan (my partner) on my way to work that I had some leakage from my umbilicus (that is the belly button.) He told me right then and there that I was going to the emergency room. So we stopped off at work and I told Richie (my shift supervisor) that I wouldn’t be able to work that night because of it. 
The DeanBear Chronicles 