While facebooking earlier today I realized that over the years I've unfriended people by the dozen, blocked all incoming e-mails from certain addresses, and stirred the pot to get certain individuals to start avoiding me.
Partly this is for their own mental health. I tend towards Viking behaviour as regards dingbats and mental midgets. Underneath my smiling fubsy huggable veneer I like nothing better than rampaging into an unarmed and unprepared village of idiots, whirling dictionaries and authoritative sources, or simply superior reason, and slaughtering them.
It probably qualifies as animal cruelty.
Poor stupid brutes.
Partly, it helps me stay sane.
Associating with people who keep quoting Pamela Geller approvingly or praising Geert Wilders fulsomely is, like the pox, very destructive.
The evidence isn't all in yet, but it probably leads to huge holes in your grey matter, and horrible body odour.
Many of the people I've deliberately dis-associated myself from over the years have been on the same side of the same barricades as myself.
Just more so, and more rabidly so. We had only one thing in common, and many of them did not realize that being in their presence did not increase my well-being or sense of security, despite their warm drooly feelings about 'the cause' and their enthusiastic stupidity.
I particularly remember a cat-lover who made nearly every conversation revolve around her. Her feelings, her sense of hurt, her spiritual agony, her creative lesbianism, her amazing journey.
It wasn't until two months after I had left the group that I finally told her, in effect, "shut up, bitch".
Another person demanded to know which side I was on when I informed her that Geert Wilders, far from being "the ONLY worthwhile Dutch politician EVER, why, the very sun of freedom shone out his ass" in what she was certain was a black pit of "cowardly Dutch quislingism and depravity", was, in fact, a pompous pandering hatefilled blowhard who couldn't hold a candle against the likes of Pieter Sjoerds Gerbrandy, Abraham Kuijper, Jan Heemskerk, Constantyn Theodoor van Lynden van Sandenburg, Joseph Luns, or even Joop Den Uyl. Let alone Johan Rudolph Thorbecke, who is still the ideal to which all Netherlandish politicos should aspire.
Her reaction to my statement was a resounding "uh?".
Followed by further insane gibbering.
It became apparent that she had no clue whatsoever about Dutch politics, or in fact the political structures and ideologies outside of her own activist Berkeley hippie cocoon, but nevertheless felt herself entitled to judge and wax authoritative. Stridently, and aggrievedly. A blinkered idiot.
That, by the way, was the last time I ate in a succah.
My host then was a very tolerant man indeed.
He still associates with her.
Organizationally.
Hi Moshe!
Both women I just mentioned are pot-smokers, by the way.
See comment about huge holes in grey matter.
As well as horrid body odour.
Shan't bore you with any more descriptions. Suffice to say that, aside from an occasional eccentric, my Facebook and my real world social & personal life are more stress-free than in the past, and likely to get even more so as time goes on.
Life is just too short to deal with pickles.
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6 comments:
I can understand why you'd chose an easier path. You don't actually have a dog in this fight
I don't know what you mean by that.
You gave up politics to write about food and smoking.
I like pickles.
Anonymous at 6;@! AM;
Have you noticed that there is plenty of that available on the internet? Everyone else does it far better than I ever could, including the screaming lunatics who took over the group to which I once belonged.
Besides, no one actually saw anything in my points of view.
Which have not changed, btw, but why should I stay on only one subject for all eternity?
I have become an interested party, rather than an active participant.
Food, smoking, and the pursuit of the perfectly cuppable set of mammaries are infinitely more satisfying in any case.
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