Those above last three words form a mantra my mother-in-law says. I get that, you see; likewise my parents harbored a great deal of rage, righteous and otherwise, toward much of the world, so it’s something I’ve seen at first hand. It’s a completely common reaction to the madness we see emanating seemingly from everywhere at once.
So, in the spirit of things that piss—me—off, here are some brief examples:
Let’s start with Joran van der Sloot. Is it really pronounced Slut? Anyway, another day, another dead young woman in his hotel room. He’s got an anger management problem, I’d say, wouldn’t you? At any rate, it’s pretty clear now that he’s going away and for a goddamn long time, just not long enough to suit me. Normally I’m not one to mention such stories in this here blog, mainly because the victims publicized tend to be white, young, and almost uniformly gorgeous, the flowers of American womanhood broken petal by petal. Look, I know every disappearance and homicide is not only awful but heartbreaking, but while we’re at it let’s also publicize more equitably the stories of black, Latina, et al, women who disappear from less glamourous parts of the country, shall we? Here in Canada women disappear from reservations all the time, yet normally their narratives don’t make the news. That’s a long-standing problem. Now, though, ven der Sloot hasn’t much longer to piss us all off by simply walking among us. That’s a good thing; he’s not getting away this time, I don’t think.
Now let’s turn to Ted Haggard. Yeah, that guy. Sorry. He calls his new “church” a “resurrection”; big metaphorical shoes to fill there, dude. Look, he’s somebody else I don’t really like to write about; I only wished he’d just come out, that’s all, started showing up at Pride rallies, whatever, but come out. You cannot undo gayness. He continues to treat gayness as an illness rather than a matter of sexual choice, hiding his erection behind his Bible (and that, folks, should tell you something about the size of his cock, even on meth—not much). He is not “cured,” any more than Jimmy Swaggart was of his, shall we say, penchant for Baton Rouge prostitutes. TV evangelists, I swear, are like the fucking undead; no matter how deeply their bury themselves in their own shit and at some point most of them do, their physiologies adapt, they learn to subsist on their own shit and literally eat their way out. Look at Jerry Falwell—he emerged from every scandal richer (and larger) than ever. His Wikipedia page reads like a fucking rap sheet. Actually, it should have been, but now he’s God’s problem, not ours.
And here you’ll find one more reason to flip off your campus president, board members, et al. To say the Ivy League’s not immune is of course classist to its core, and that deserves mentioning as well. If this doesn’t get student bodies into their quads with signs and vitriol, what the hell will?
David Vitter is a piece of shit. He ought to be cleaning the beaches with his tongue, right alongside Hayward.
Finally, from ThinkProgress, this classic. Actually, this cracks me up almost as much as it pisses—me—off. These people really got their crazy on, eh? They’re examples of the worker-drone educational system, of course, so as such we’re seeing examples of what/how well they’ve learned. “Descent—” Now that’s entertainment, folks. Almost as good as the sign that read, “Get a Brain Morans”—I was convinced the Moran family, scattered across the country, might well have taken personal offense. It must have pissed—them—off.