Tonight, I am a misanthrope. I, who love life and people to a bloody fault, wearing my rose-colored glasses, am sick to death of so many things that even beginning to name them seems like a monumental task. None of the following rant is aimed at anyone in particular, and certainly not at you.
Well that's a fine how-do-you-do! A misanthrope who posts a disclaimer. I can't even do that well.
Ah, fuck it.
I'm tired of financial struggle. I don't mean $50,000 credit card debt, a mortgage, or $400 car payments. I mean, I'm tired of having a pantry with nothing more in it than a 50-cent can of WIC tuna, a can of plain-wrap Spaghetti-Os and 6 saltines. I'm almost 56 years old. I've worked hard since I was 16, and 36 of those years have been spent not eating so that someone else can. If I'm ever financially solvent, I'll never again buy 35-cent boxes macaroni and cheese, Banquet pot pies, or Top Ramen.
I'm sick of seeing 24 year-old punks --who've never known a day's hard work-- on TV showing off their sex-symbol "cribs". I'm sick of their conspicuous consumption, their Hummers, their football field-sized closets full of 500 pairs of tennis shoes (yeah, I know they call them something else that sounds much cooler, but sod it.) and their attitude of entitlement. And while we're at it, I'm sick of tattoos and piercings too. I'm sick of everything about this current generation of spoiled brats. I'm sick of the Paris Hiltons, the Lindsay Lohans and the Nicole Richeys, and while I'm at it, I'm sick of loud fucking car stereos.
I'm sick of the Blond Bimbo Sex Kitten cult: girls who think that what they have between their legs is somehow new or special, something that no one's ever seen before. I'm really sick of America's media-enabled pedophilia, Bratz dolls, sexy Anime, "Girls Gone Wild" and "tramp stamps". I'm sick of MySpace, teen porn, and grown men who would rather wank off to a 2-dimensional image of a nameless, faceless, under-aged internet hole than have a meaningful relationship with a flesh and blood woman his own age. Oh yeah, let's go there. I'm really sick of porn-addicted fathers who don't stop to consider that the girls that they're wanking off to online are somebody's daughters.
I'm tired of sex in general. When you weigh it, sex has caused more problems in this world than it has otherwise. Sexual abuse, sexual predators, sexual pedophilia, sexual addiction, sexual exploitation, sexual manipulation. Even a fucking spark plug ad has to include a busty bimbo. I'm tired of it.
I'm just tired. I'm tired of taking care of everyone from the cradle to the grave. I'm tired of putting myself last. I want to feel appreciated. I want to take my wife out to dinner. I want to see something for all my hard work except ingratitude and entitlement. And once in a while I want someone to pick up my shoes, wash my dish, or wash my towels.
Tonight, I am a misanthrope. I want life to be what it was last week. I want to know that my dreams are not being eaten up and shat out by the selfishness and thoughtlessness of others who think that I was created to make their life easy. Damn it, I want a little gratitude.
I want simple things, really: enough food, a secure home, and to know that the final stage of my life is going to be relatively peaceful.
In truth, I'm not a misanthrope at all. I am a parent, a spouse, a psychologist, a counselor, a priest, a rubber wall, a friend, a safe haven, a rock and a court jester. And right now, I'm someone who wants to slam two pairs of balls and one set of ovaries against a wall.