People with anywhere close to half-way decent dispositions have all faced a universal conundrum.
P1: Oh, shit.
P2: [approaching with a bag of potato chips in hand]
P1: There’s a fat school kid walking toward me, and she’s stuffing her face with junk food.
P2: [crunch]
P1: No, not fat! Thyroid-challenged!
P2: [swallow]
P1: Shit, I will cripple her for the rest of her natural fucking life if I keep thinking like this.
P2: [mouth-wipe]
P1: Just look straight ahead … oh God of Offensive Clichés, why must you fuck with me today?
P2: [passing with a split-second glance sideways]
P1’s brain: I feel sorry for you and your irresponsible fucktard parents, fatass.
P1: Damn it! Fuck! You fucking shitcluster of shitfuckingly traitorous neurons!
In the face of overwhelming evidence contrary to the idea that distasteful stereotypes have no basis in all cases of reality, it can be difficult to swat away the haunting allure of political correctness.
It’s time that inward disparaging dialogue rooted in justifiable truth pulled out of the shadow cast by unfounded outward insults.
Those capable of the latter are commonly known as assholes. The former are merely viewed that way by their own consciences.
And pompous fucking windbag is a self-inflicted label better left avoided.
