Sunday, January 16, 2005

Do not EVER approach me when I am entering or exiting the grocery store.

Or any store, for that matter. You have no right to bother me when I am obviously task-oriented and particularly when I am carrying things.

Today's perpetrator was someone representing the so-called "Stars and Stripes Committee," a woman in a man's grey suit wearing an offensive American flag-resembling ball cap. I have no idea what this committee represents, other than new lows in women's fashion, and nor do I want to discuss politics as I am exiting Albertson's Supermarket (I normally do not shop at this terrible chain, but they have the lowest prices on detergent). This absolutely horrible woman called to me as I walked out of the store, but I was having none of it. As her repeated entreaties for "a moment of my time" grew louder, so grew my fury at her importunations. It is enormously insulting for a person like that to assume that my mind is so weak as to be changed by someone with a card table and access to stencils. She was obviously insane. My hate for her burned white-hot, and I will do everything in my power to make sure that groups are no longer allowed to pitch tables at the entrances to stores. Civic Law must have a provision of this sort. That is all. Do NOT email me on this subject.

Saturday, January 01, 2005

Jehovah's Witnesses

Boy do these clowns need to work on their act. I was in the kitchen taking my vitamin E this morning (I usually take it with a handful of walnuts, so the fats from the nuts help the body to digest the oligosaccharides, you can read more at VitaSource) when the doorbell rang. This really drives me crazy - I'm thinking of having it uninstalled. Anyhow, that is not the point. The point is that I opened the door and was immediately confronted by two dumpy old women who wanted to talk about "friendship." First I thought Cornelius had had them sent over, since he's probably still secretly steamed about the shooting, but their rap quickly proved to be the straight pointless bullshit.

After a little while of talking, the main woman pointed out that I was eating nuts. I don't need someone to tell me what I am eating. That really irks me. Then she launched back into her rambling half-thought-out monologue on "friendship." I mentioned that I already had friends. She smiled at this, like she was doubting me, and prattled on. I started to see red.

Although I knew they were some kind of religious whackos, I went ahead and interrupted by asking if they were affiliated with a church, just to release her from the self-imposed prison of her chain of thought. She smiled and handed me some crappy 4-color newsprint magazine called Awake! that immediately started rubbing foul ink off all over my hands. The cover story was "How to make Real Friends."

I said I would read it at my earliest convenience and wished them both a good day. They smiled like a couple of retards and trundled off. I really need to get a No Solicitors sign. Anyhow, if you want to read Awake! magazine, you can dig through my trash, except you can't, because I'll shoot you with rock salt.

Happy new year from Pat.