It’s Tuesday again, which can only mean it’s time for my semi(ish)weekly rant post (again) in which I share with you, my precious readers, a few things that grind my gears. So pardon me while I pet my peeves . . .
Parking Lots– If Dante Alighieri had penned Inferno today? Parking lots would’ve been tucked between Greed and Anger as per those circles of hell. Greed because peeps want their front row parking space and they’re willing to dismember your ride in order to get it. The Anger happens after they use your bumper like a toothpick when they back out of their parking space whilst checking their look and posting to Facebook.
Of course, a tenth circle would totally fuck up the hunchback effect that the number 9 has imbued on our culture, because while 10 is perfect . . it ain’t possess that haunted curlicue of its predecessor. So while Dante never had to deal with parking lots, his writings are proof that he knew such hellish propositions would beset humanity some day.
People who yell ‘Whoo!‘- There is a brief moment at the top of an MTV Unplugged live performance where Eric Clapton steers his six string into the bluesy version of Layla that drives me bat shit crazy. For all the wrong reasons. The crowd erupts in a brief celebration when it recognizes his direction. Buried inside the applause are several ass hats who thought it a good idea to issue the requisite Whoo that all too often makes its way into recordings of live performances. E-Fucking-Nough! Eric Clapton is a once in a lifetime gift from the musical heavens and the best fucking idea you got is to yell Whoo? How unfuckingoriginal can you get?! Stop low browing the high brow stuff! Whoo is something you emit in a dive bar after one too many dollar shots whilst listening to a heavy metal cover band that sounds like frozen vomit. Get that Whoo shit out of here and go back to your dive bar!
Live Performances– If I want to hear crowd noise, I’ll go Black Friday shopping. You know what I don’t want to hear when I’m listening to music? Crowd noise, that’s what. I want the diamond cut sound of that primo shit and I want to inject it straight into my veins, and I don’t want it laced with filler. I want the straight up mad hatter tipping my velvet.
Crowd Shots– Have you ever tuned into a live sporting event to see what the crowd was up to? Me either.
Nutritional Facts Labels– I don’t pay attention to them when I grocery shop, so why in the blessed fig of my Newtonian gravitational pull would I wish to get my reading in at McDonald’s? I’ve never thought to myself ‘Hey self! I gots to get my protein in for the day so Imma quick stop the arches on the way to my physical!’. It’s like this. I’ll have a Big Mac, medium fries and please . . hold the nutritional labels.
Dudes Who Whine– I’ve covered this as far as the crybabies who seem to predominate the sports world, but they’re a small sample size of a larger problem. Because it seems that dudes are whining more than ever. They whine about women, superhero movie endings, fantasy league, chick flicks and musicals, Pretty Little Liars, the curious popularity of cupcakes, having to hold her purse for ten seconds when they’re standing in line at Target, dents on their glam truck, straws, Chihuahuas, Nicholas Sparks, Barbara Streisand, tiramisu, drama, fake tans . . .
I could go on, but then I’d have to explain to you why I might have sipped and supped a couple of these varietals, so lemme tuck this puppy into bed. And Imma do it with a ditty that’s so pretty wit da gritty. (Warning: This doctor’s order ain’t suitable for work or church . . unless you work in an adult film store . . or Congress.)