Two people I see regularly when I am at work are, in different ways, bat-shit crazy. Irritatingly so. One is an Irishman who passionately supports Trump, possibly because he was dropped on his head as a child, and may have fried his brain in other ways as a young lad in Dublin -- where brain-frying is both frightfully common and frighteningly easy -- and he's also just not very bright. The other one lost his marbles when he lost his wife, and may or may not be medicated, which isn't helping.
Let us not discuss the rabid Trumpite; that's probably just a long fit of brain fever, and there's still a little hope for him yet.
It's a long shot.
Tin Foil Hat Steve (TFHS), however, is quite committable.
He's presently convinced that the United States has left the United Nations, the Clintons are in cahoots with Putin, that Senator Dianne Feinstein wants Roe vs Wade repealed, and that I am too much of a Rothschild to be much use in the long battle for Justice, Righteousness, and Beauty.
Well, I wouldn't be much use anyway in his struggle.
It amused me that someone who claimed his mother was Jewish last week now thinks I am too Jewish and, therefore, in his estimation, not reliable in the Truthy-Wuthy Crusade. Firstly, because I am not Jewish at all, merely somewhat Jewy, and secondly because he's so berserk that he wouldn't recognize truth if it bit him in his butt cheeks.
Still, I don't dislike him, and I'm probably the only person there that he can talk to. I am a forbearing sort. Many of the people I see at work would benefit from therapy, several really need electro-shock.
I sometimes wish I had a cattle prod.
Brrrzaaap, bitches!
I am by no means a saint.
But sometimes I am.
Two days off. Tuesday and Wednesday.
Let the mental health now begin.
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