I Got Graduated, Too!

Now, I know this may come as a surprise to anyone that’s ever read my blog before, but I’m a people person. Yeah, I love people. Maybe not in the way you’re thinking, but I do indeed love people. I love people in kind of the same way a zoo keeper loves his animals.

I do, however, loathe their very existence. This may seem like a contradiction, and I assure you: it is. But that doesn’t matter right now, what does matter is my explanation of why.

I love people in the sense that they allow me, a non-apologetic rage-oholic, to get a huge dose of that rage-ohol that I crave on a day-to-day basis. And I loathe them because I was plagued with common sense and dignity, and most other people weren’t. At all. Especially that dignity one.

And what displays the lack of dignity and self-respect most human beings have these days? Cellphones. Nothing makes me hate the human condition more. It’s not the cellphone itself, really. It’s the fact that humans can converse through them that bothers me. I can’t blame a knife for stabbing someone, now can I?

Speaking of knives and stabbing someone, I was on the bus yesterday, and I got to witness one half of quite possibly the most moronic conversation I’ve ever heard. It led me to coin the term “Buffoonism”. That was what this girl was practicing. Buffoonism. The act of being so ridiculous and inane, that it made me wish the entire bus just exploded right then and there, with me on it.

Let me say one thing, I’m not a racist. Oh sure, I hate black people. But I hate white people. I hate everyone. You can’t be a bigot if you hate everyone, got it? I do, however, especially hate this “Ghetto” culture that has spawned over the last ten years. Originally, it was only from people who lived in ghettos (imagine that), but it soon spiralled out of control (imagine THAT!) and everyone started acting like that, even middle class white people. This girl wasn’t middle class or white, but you get my point.

“The Buffoonist” was everything I hate about ghetto culture turned up to 11. I was overhearing the conversation, which was of course unnecessarily loud like everything that culture says, and it was just a typical dumbass conversation that I could mostly ignore. That was, until she uttered one of the most fucking stupid sentences I’ve ever heard. Ever.

“Yeah gurl, I heard that you got graduated!”

Got graduated?! Oh please tell me that “Graduated” is an STD or something, and that she didn’t mean graduated as in “from school”. GOT graduated?! She acquired graduated? Recently, I was informed of the term “Omnicidal” (compliments of “Teh Co-worker” and his near-Cocaine like addiction to TV Tropes). It was at this point in time, that I, the Counter Culture Clown, became an Omnicidal Maniac. Or at least wanted to. All humans must die because of this Buffoonist.

Alright, Buffoonist, you have my attention now. You can’t possibly make me more enraged, can you? Oh, I should NEVER under-estimate the power of failure.

Next up, discussion on a mutual friend of there’s who just had a miscarriage. That, for those of you who don’t know, means hitting eject on the VCR LONG before this fetus-movie is finished. Stillborn, ya know? Delightful, I know. And definitely conversation that should be yelled into a cellphone on a crowded bus. Oh, Omnicide, where have you been my whole life?

The Buffoonist: “Yeah, gurl, when I lost MY baby…”

Let’s just hit the brakes there for a second. There was the potential of a Little Buffoonist to carry on the legacy? Someone stuck their penis in this dumb piece of garbage? The baby didn’t make it into this realm alive?

I take it back. There is a God. And he loves me. Apparently, a miscarriage is God’s form of abortion. This Buffoonist was apparently SO dumbtarded, that even God didn’t want her to have a kid. Son of a bitch, all my atheist ranting, and God proves himself like this?! Mysterious ways indeed!

Of course, apparently she also thinks this was God’s doing.

The Buffoonist: “You know, that’s just God  ‘doe!” (that means “Though” for those of you who don’t speak Buffoonist) “If I would have had my baby with that man, I’d probably be dead, he’d be in jail, and my baby would be in foster care!”

Wait, what part of any of that sounded bad? Let’s look at the good in that last part.

“I’d be dead…” – That’s good.

“He’d be in jail…” – Probably good too. I mean, he was dumb enough to misuse his penis in such a way that it brought forth a child from YOUR loins.

“And my baby would be in foster care” – I don’t care if that baby was being raised by wolves, as long as it’s not going to learn from YOU!

They then turned the conversation back to miscarriage lady number one. And yet another buffoonistic statement.

The Buffoonist: “Was she bleedin’?”

SHE JUST EXPELLED A FETUS OUT OF HER CROTCH, OF COURSE SHE WAS BLEEDING?!

Fuckin’ hell, I need a nap. This is all too overwhelming at this point. Even my hate has reached its capacity. I hate her more than I hate Vegemite. Alright, that may be pushing it, but you have to make strong statements to get this kind of anger across.

Next, I learn that yet another of their mutual friends is pregnant. And this one is, unfortunately, still on it’s way. I’m really hoping for a miscarriage hat trick at this point.

The Buffoonist: “Man, she be pregnant with that man’s bab-ay? Shit gurl, me and her ’bout to fight…”

Oh please let it be to the death, with the winner getting a nice DEATH as a reward. Oh pretty, pretty please. With a stillborn fetus on top…

It’s at this point she finally left the bus. An air of dismay seemed to follow her, and as she walked past, I felt a gust from that wind. A shiver ran down my spine from the chill of the fuck-up breeze that followed her. It was as if this God I now believe in (hah, no, not really!) had blew out his final breath as he too died of a pissed-off overdose.

This whole event only lasted roughly five minutes. Or, in my new anger-related unit of measurement, about sixty two Mental-Screams. That’s 12.4 MSPM (Mental-Screams Per Minute)! That’s fucked up.

You see, this whole thing just proves one thing to me: I should never, ever, have to be exposed to your phone conversations. Ever. Because now the human race must die. I haven’t quite figured out how to do it yet, but soon enough I will discover a way to kill everyone at once. And the omnicide will commence! And when it does, I’m starting with you Buffoonist!

Maybe, if the rest of you ask real nice, I’ll let you watch her die BEFORE killing you. Maybe. Not making any promises though.