Friday, December 6, 2013
I really pissed someone off yesterday.
Logic tends to do that when you are dealing with someone that makes an emotional argument.
It also changes perspective when it gets personal. Ronald Reagan once said that when your neighbor loses his job it's a recession. When YOU lose YOUR job it's a depression.
Same holds true when you advocate sending troops somewhere. It seems OK to send someone else's kid off to some far flung remote outpost to get his head blown off but when we're talking about YOU sending YOUR son off, it's an entirely different case.
So anyway, who fell into the checkout line at the supermarket yesterday? Why, it was none other than the guy down the end of the street that ran his mouth a while ago about how we ought to send troops into Syria.
He didn't like it when I made it personal and suggested he sign for his 17 year old to enlist. He didn't like the idea of HIS son going off to get torn up very much.
I generally avoid this guy and wish he would just go away and leave me alone but he can't be trained. I have been rude to him before and he doesn't learn.
So he was behind me and I could tell he coulden't leave well enough alone and he asked me if I am going to retire soon.
I told him I was not because I can't afford health care and besides I'm afraid inflation will eat my savings up because things in the future don't look too rosy and that his wonderful Obamacare has cinched that one down tight.
He looked at me perplexed and I told him I wish I hadn't saved because should have spent it all on hookers and blow because I would have at least gotten my money's worth and wound up with pretty good memories.
"You mean sex workers" he corrected me. I scowled.
"Another person trying to legitimize criminal behavior," I said.
"Those people deserve dignity," he said, stoutly.
"Look, prostitution is illegal everywhere except for a few places in Nevada. Everywhere else it's criminal activity. I suppose we can call the girls in the legal brothels 'sex workers' but everywhere they are criminals."
"Every person is intitled to dignity, " he defended.
"Go ahead and legitimize criminal behavior," I shot back. Al Capone was a beverage procurement specialist, right? Pimps are now 'love brokers, right? Then again, maybe that's not so bad an idea. Now that you've given the trade a little dignity you might send that college aged daughter of yours over the house for a little part time work. I could use some young stuff!"
For a second I thought he was going to swing at me but he stood there with a look of total outrage. He was boiling and I suppose I could have tried to defuse things but I was too disgusted.
"Just like a while ago when you ran your mouth about sending troops into Syria. You didn't like it one bit when I suggested you sign for your son to enlist. When it's someone else's kids getting killed or working on their back it's OK, when it's yours it isn't. Right? Two faced idiot!"
He didn't settle down too much.
"Right now you think you hate me," I said. "You don't hate me, you hate yourself for being stupid and getting dragged into this kind of illogical stupidity."
"You do what you gotta do," I finished. "Remember, I cheat." I turned and started unloading my cart and he glared at me as I rang my grub up, paid for it, bagged it and left.
Problem with me these days is that I'm getting too old and tired. I don't have a whole lot of time for other people's stupidity.
If it's something you wouldn't do yourself or send your kids off to do, why are you so willing to send someone else's?
Then again, while I have the wisdom to know that you can't fix stupid, I suppose I can use it for entertainment. Once the woman across the street asked me how to deal with stupid. She had been bothered by something at work.
I told her that God put stupid people on the planet for our amusement. "I used to be disgusted, now I'm amused," I said.
Incidentally I am not some kind of holy self-rightous jerk. I have known a few hookers and a bunch of strippers. I worked in a strip club breifly. There were two strippers and two hookers I respected, although the rest were airheads with daddy issues, drug problems or both.
The four of them knew what they were doing and they were following their dreams. While they hated every minute of what they were doing, thay had a goal. They saved every nickel and while I lost touch with them as they faded back into the Lower 48, over the years a couple of my pals ran into three of the four.
One hooker retired at 35 and owns 2 hairstyling salons and several rentals. One of the strippers bought herself a house and lives quietly with her husband in Washington state somewhere. The other stripper got a master's in something ot another and is doing well. The fourth I have never heard about how she made out. Of course, this was 20 years ago when I heard this, but I'd bet they're doing well.
Still, the strippers were strippers and while that was legal, the same can't be said for the hookers because prostitution is illegal. They were in fact criminals even though I won't hold that against them.
Frankly, I think the oldest profession ought to be legalized and then we can manage it and tax it. The way it is now it's underworld and untaxed.
I suppose if it is legalized I'll still call strippers strippers and hookers hookers,though. Truth is, it's a pretty rough way to make a living.
To find out why the blog is pink just cut and paste this: http://piccoloshash.blogspot.com/2009/12/my-feminine-side-blog-stays-pink.html NO ANIMALS WERE HARMED IN THE WRITING OF TODAY'S ESSAY