Tuesday, February 3, 2009

You Talking To Me?

So, because of my last posting, I decided to watch Taxi Driver again. I saw it about 10 years ago, before I was filled with contempt for humanity, and it didn’t impress me too much. As an adult, mostly disgusted with the amoral majority of Earth’s most successful primate, I found the movie to be brilliant. The fact that I can identify with the tragic antihero of the film doesn’t say a hell of a lot of constructive things about my disposition, but I’ve cultivated and condensed my attitude into a sticky dystopian venom that, I believe, I will one day be able to actually spit at degenerate idiots. I know this is counter to my January 22nd posting about rainbows and lollipops, but I am what I am.
I do feel it relevant to admit that while I think people would eat each other if given the chance, there are genuinely good people around. Two such examples are my friends Heather and Beth. I haven’t seen or spoken to either of them in almost two years, but due to the magic of social networking, their unfaltering cheer and optimism have, on more than a few occasions, squeezed a smile from my perpetual scowl. I like believing people are happy and not just pretending for the sake of their own sanity. And, I believe them. Another example is my angelic girlfriend, Gilda (pronounced Hilda). In short, while everything bothers me, nothing bothers her, and in the face of my railing negativity toward all things, her heavily accented response is always a final, “Shut up, pumpkin,” and I love her for that.
I guess things could be worse. I could drive a taxi, stalk Cybil Sheppard (something I was planning on doing anyway), or arm myself to the gills and attempt political assassination. I won’t though. I’m too snooty to drive a cab, and I'm not that interested in politics.

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