Monday, February 14, 2011

Redefining the Undefinable

Welcome. First of all, let me just apologize in advance for those of you who found this blog and assumed from the imagery that it will be, or is, political in nature. (I probably should have stopped that sentence at the word blog.) I'm as comfortable in the political arena as I am the sports arena, which is about as comfortable as a virgin at a frat party.

Uncensored America is a look at the American people, and their complete disregard, disdain, and/or inability to communicate without making themselves look like idiots. It will progress beyond the monosyllabic vocabulary that seems to have become the societal norm. (Some of you just asked yourselves what that meant, and made my point for me.)

The seed for this idea came to me when one of my coworkers used the word "retardeder" in casual conversation and legitimately thought it was a word. Retardeder. Said coworker used this word to describe the mental capacity of someone versus himself. Folks, please try and imagine the depths of my sigh as I state this: if you describe someone as being retardeder than me, they aren't. It's just physically impossible.

That non-word clung to me like a post-sex condom. I could't let it go. I ranted about it to everyone I knew for days. Days. Literally. It was a toothache in my frontal lobe that wouldn't be soothed. I would find myself considering it at the oddest moments in time, pulling it out of my pocket and examining it like a child with a particularly shiny object that only interests them.

It began to occur to me that people were saying things to me on a daily basis that had just as much non-value. So, for a change, I stopped going through the motions when interacting with the unwashed masses, and I started listening. Really listening. I. Was. Stupified.

Upon walking into work the other day, one of my other coworkers greeted me by stating: Its been as busy as a cat covered in shit, today.

What the fuck does that mean? I couldn't tell you. I pondered it for a long time. The best scenario I could envision was that cats are notably clean animals who spend a good deal of time bathing themselves. has to wonder (has to), how, exactly, does a cat get covered in shit to begin with? And, why is it busy afterwards? Why isn't it pissed? If I were covered in shit, I would be pissed. And the irony isn't lost upon me.

The following day, I was in the convenience store that I always hit before work. As I fixed my coffee, I couldn't help but become absorbed in the conversation of the two cashiers, which elicited this particular gem: She's just too emotional with her emotions.

This chestnut was followed with a diatribe that lasted several minutes as the world's most flambouyantly gay cashier postulated upon the person it reflected. (Hey, I like the guy. He knows what brand of smokes to get before I ask and he acknowledges that I want our interaction to remain the minimum of cashier and customer. However...) His whole rant could have been reduced to: She's a drama queen. Maybe he had an aversion to using the words drama and queen without feeling hypocritical, who knows?

And so, here we are we are. "Where is that, exactly?", you may be asking. Well, you are going to be the author of my blog. I am merely the conduit of your voice. I will be there, listening. And, each day, I will choose the most nefarious of your transgressions against the english language and dissect them. I will pull them apart and study their meaning, their actual practical use in the world-at-large, and help redefine them into something that makes sense. I'll go off-track along the way, hold no doubt, and do some massive ranting of my own, but I promise I'll always try to pull you back into the fold with a witty penis joke, comment about your mom's sexual habits or degrading comments about the Catholic Church's penguin-esque group of pedophiles.

And not to seem like the jaded prick that I am, I'll be sure to work in the most intelligent quote of the day. Today it was: What she doesn't realize is; the emperor wears no clothes. This was expressed mid-rant by a coworker who often refers to himself as 'cannon fodder', but is undoubtedly one of the most intelligent people I have ever encountered. The fact that he and I were the only ones among those present that understood the reference or the analogy amazed me.

Most of the blogs I have attempted in the past have been centered around my own personal grievances and various rants regarding such opinions as: Just because you survived inside the Trade Center during 9/11 does not make you a hero, the firefighter that risked his life to pull you out gets that title and Show me your tits, the lack of gratuitous nudity in film is turning fame into infamy. Uncensored America is my first blog with a focused idea, a format that will carry through and be acknowledged.

Tomorrow's diatribe? Its anyone's guess. But, I'll be there, listening. Waiting for some vapid comment to be spewed forth from your willing lips, and then... Then, my friends, it's on like Donkey Kong.

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