13 Jul This Week in Rage – 7/12/13
This Week in Rage, a blog about the top three things that pissed me off this week:
Holiday Joggers: You may have heard me rant about this before – the cockhole who decides he can’t live one day like a normal person drinking and eating with friends and family. Doesn’t matter if it’s a holiday, he’s got to get his jog on. The worst offender is the Thanksgiving jogger. Doesn’t matter that rest of us real Americans are about to vomit up turkey with all the fixin’s so we can make room for some apple pie, this guy has to get joggy with it. But here’s a new wrinkle. I saw the holiday jogger last week on the Fourth of July. It’s balls hot out and you’ve got a belly full of ribs and Sam Adams and this douchebag comes sprinting by shaming you. And I realized there’s no way to talk him out of this. That is what these guys do. We’ll never get rid of them. They’re assholes, they jog. But I came up with a solution. I need to create a line of holiday jogging apparel that look like street clothes. They’re sweatpants that look like jeans and running shoes that look loafers. That way as you jog by on a holiday you’re not shaming us. The only thing is that at the time of purchase you have to agree that every two hundred feet you’ll shout out your dog’s name. As you’re chugging along you have to call out “Scrappy!!! Come here Scrapppy!!!” So now if I’m holding my sixth beer in one hand and a pulled pork sandwich in the other and I see you jogging by, instead of thinking about my impending coronary I’m thinking “Look at that poor son-of-a-bitch. Lost his dog. Wait till those Fourth of July fireworks start. The dogs’s gonna freak out and he’ll never see it again.” This would work, right? It’s genius. Or rather JEAN-ius (SNIIIIIFFFFFF)
The Scourge of Barefoot People: I don’t know if it’s because everyone is wearing flip flops now but on my last three flights I’ve had bare feet come through between the seats. And every now and again I’ll see some special aeronautical assholery where the guy has somehow pulled off a yoga move and gotten his bare feet on the wall or ceiling of the cabin. Do all of you remember back when bare feet were disgusting? Back when we had something called dignity and a civilization? Now you go to the Starbucks or the smoothie place and you see the assclown with his bare feet on the table. I’m putting my bagel there in twenty minutes, man. When did we get so simultaneously casual and disgusting? I blame the taking off of the shoes at airport security. We’re so used to being barefoot now on the airport floor – I’d argue one of the world’s most disgusting surfaces – we just keep the shoes off on the plane too. We’ve lost our shoes and our society.
Speaking of…
My Airport Reality Show: This is an idea that I’m in love with. Are you listening TV executives? Consider this a pitch. It’s a competition reality show. We’ve all seen the guy who’s late for his flight, just made his way through security at LAX and he’s rushing to get to the gate and trying to get himself together after taking off the belt, taking out the laptop, losing the shoes, removing the hat and all that. Well this show is about families competing to see who can get their shit back together while on the move and dodging other passengers. You have to get from the end of security to your gate in the fastest time. Imagine it. Mama’s yelling at the kids to get their knapsack packed up, grandma loses a shoe on the way. And then when they get to the gate the judges start giving them the once over twice. That’s when the scrutineering begins. (And yes, scrutineering is a word. A word I invented, but still a word. Like Behymen). Taking a look at Dad’s belt they’re like “You missed a loop.” Then Mom starts yelling at him, “This is why we practice, Ted.” It’ll be great. It’s Family Feud meets Wipeout in an airport. I call it – “Terminal Velocity.”
And just a quick note about something that doesn’t piss me off. Thank you to everyone who has contributed and spread the word about the FundAnything campaign for Road Hard. It’s really been great.
-Adam