Being The Square Peg

I've spent the past weeks observing my surroundings and my reaction to them. I've come to a few conclusions. A: I love where I live and my new house. Conversely, B: I despise the type of people who live around me.

And when I say despise, I mean I would cheerfully stab most of them in the mouth so I would never hear them open their stupid, ill-informed yaps evar again. But, in a good way.

I am surrounded by Stepford Wife/Soccer Moms and their complacent, milquetoast husbands. I've spent 7 years in this burg and yet to find one, true friend. I don't fit in, and to be honest, it really doesn't seem to bother me. The only thing that does bother me is the religious bigotry with which I am forced to endure. Oh trust me, I'm no St. Paul at Ephasus. No, I am a vocal activist for political freedom for the local Roman Catholic. It's also a bonus that I get to rub their noses in their own hypocrisy. Let me tell you, there is almost nothing better, not even sex.

I am never going to fit in. I don't mind, however, if I am forced to accept them within my worldview and respect their "choices" then I demand the same. Here is a classis case and point:

Yesterday I at my daughter's soccer game. It's the last two games of the season and in between the double header we BBQ some burgers and allow the girls some down time to relax, etc. One of the mothers, (she's on the top of my list for worst Stepford Mom this Year) brings up like 16 pre-school kids, friends of her kids, and various neighborhood hangers on and demands, 30 minutes after the kitchen has closed, that we feed these people. Now, this is one of the mothers who didn't fork over the $10 the coach and his wife asked for to help cover the costs of food and everything for everyone.

Now, as the coach's understanding wife begins to grill more burgers and hot dogs this abberation of humanity begins to bitch, piss and moan about how she had to drag all of these kids around to run errands and how they just "wanted everything". Having had enough of her stupidity, I just said, "This is where being a bitch, like me, helps so much in raising kids. I just say no, tell them to shut up, sit down or I will sell them to the highest bidder on eBay." She gave me a horrified smile as I walked off. I managed to mutter "Wuss" just loud enough for her to hear as I was taught to do while in ice skating competitions.

"I must break you!"

I hate these women. "I can't imagine why Johnny is such a handful. I don't know where he gets it." Don't you? Are you so unwilling to accept any culpability for the fact that you are raising a budding serial killer? How about you get a wooden spoon and go pop the little reprobate across his fat, lazy, whining ass a couple of times and see if his outlook improves any? Discipline the little brats you're so busy pushing out.

Stop talking about how busy their little schedules keep you. Stop whining about the cost of the freaking therapist you're forced by the school district to take him to because he killed the class gerbil in front a little girl who told on him for peeing on the teacher's plant? Accept some fucking responsiblity for your kid's actions. Beat the snot out of the little sucker, take his X-Box away, as well as his computer, TV, DVR, cell phone, new car, and trip to Germany next summer. Make him get a freakin job. Make him pay for the shit he breaks. Make him be responsible for his actions. Do not waiver. Stand strong. Cry in your shower when you have to, but show them there are real consequences for your actions... oh wait, you don't want to believe in that so you can't possibly ask your child to, so you must go on as the rest of the clueless, stupid world... all the while crying about how we're turning into a ball of crass idiocy.

This is the truth about the vast majority of people on our little rock, they don't want to know, don't want to really know why Johnny can't behave, because it would involved accepting their own responsibility for it. The only fire that keeps me going is the hope that at their deaths they have complete and unswerving awareness of the wrongness of their lives.

And I hope to be there laughing as each one of them gasp "But I never hurt anybody!" Sure, you didn't pumpkin, you merely sent out your agent to do it because you were too lazy and stupid to do it yourself.