If you’re a long-time follower of this blog and my deviant, withered neural situation, you know by now that I suffer from some serious wiring problems in my noggin. Those of you new to this violation of your consciousness… yeah. Sorry. It is what it is, to quote the second-greatest douchenozzle I’ve suffered to work for in our Army.
With that out of the way, I wrote a lot this month, this week, and today. I needed to branch out and flex my bloggy… words-making part of my thought-maker. Something like that. Call it a break from readable word-making. A period of not-trying. This doesn’t mean that I don’t try when I am here to make you happy… wait… was that a double-negative? No?
You might see my problem here. I am the white man in North America most desperately in need of a good crack over the bean with a 2×4. Call it a reset. In tech support, they call it a hard shut down reboot. My problem is my Special Gift.
I have the ability to walk into a room full of people or just one person and say the exact wrong thing. I’m not talking about answering the “does this make my butt look big” question (for which the only answer is to draw the knife up and down your arm, not across). I just have the ability say something like, “Hi, motherfuckers,” and piss off everyone. You’d think people don’t know I use ‘motherfucker’ as a term of endearment.
I found a clip from the web that perfectly illustrates my plight. I doubt you need explaining which character represents me.
Am I the only one with this issue?
I’m tired of being the conductor of the poop train.