Wednesday, December 26, 2007

It's Coming. Can You Feel It?

Can't you smell it in the air?
No, not the overwhelming crushing odor of leftover ham and turkey surging upwards from thousands of kitchen fans. This smell is like a cold seabreeze - a supernumerary odor, cool and crisp and biting and almost metallic, above the normal moronosphere that hangs so low here, heavy and stultifying.
It's exciting. It's inspirational. It's enough to make you stand still and just enjoy it, head raised, sniffing like a scenthound who is about to give chase.

It's the smell of comeuppance.

Those folks who never did without, who wanted everything now now NOW, who used their McMansions as ATM or slot machines, dumping quarters in, taking thousands out, lording it over the hardworking taxpaying slaving folk who bought less than they could afford, who planned for the future. They are about to get what they so richly deserve, what they asked for, what they begged for, and it is about to schmack them in the face... and in the pocket.

Right now they are surreptitiously unloading their toys, talking innocently and brightly about downsizing, while in the dark their bills are piling up and up, keeping them awake nights like the monotonous sounds of a metronome tick... tock... tick... tock... tick... tock. They are quietly scrabbling to find cash for one more, three more, months, to pay their mortgage, to finance all of the expensive toys and furnishings in their lives that they simply had to have, to impress - whomever - to prove - whatever. Their fingernails are scratching, scrabbling, like rats' paws against the splintering walls of a twisting, shrieking, sinking ship, and they are going down down down into the depths of hell's waters, their panting lungs slowly filling with air...

And it is delightful to stand on the shores of integrity, honesty, common sense, and industry, and watch it happen. It is delightful to stand there, simply because they could not resist, for the past five years, running around all of us shore-bound folk, bragging about where they were going, what they were buying, where they were living, with never a word of how they were going to pay for it all. The Noveau Riche, flushed bright pink with the joys of cash in hand, credit cards that could be used to pay for other credit cards, refinancing their homes again and again, scraping up the piles of cash and fleeing off to their next great adventure, all the while thumbing their noses at shore-bound others who were just old fuddie-duddies, who were stick in the muds, who didn't know how to enjoy life... They were innocent whores, dancing from one john to another, mating with whomever would have them, selling their credit and their fathers' good names and their childrens' futures for a mess of pottage, never looking behind them, spending money that they just knew that they would always have, as their house appraisals went up month to month, week to week. Enslaving themselves to evil-eyed predators who smiled and encouraged and took their money every month, who laughed with them and drank with them and encouraged them to get, to have, to take, more and more.

When the final crash comes, they will go under, squeaking like the rats they are, clinging to this halyard and that line, praying for de gummint or someone, anyone, to save them. Like rats, they carry their own poison with them, and should not be saved, but left to drown in their own feces. For this crash is of their own making, their own stupidity, their own selfish and self-seeking desires.

Saturday, December 22, 2007

New Year's Resolution

OK, I'm getting started early.

Actually I got started about six months ago. I'm slowly weeding out the stressors in my life. The emotional vampires, the people who call themselves "friends" - who have never given a damn about me or my problems, who always dump their loads on me, and then who walk away or are nowhere to be found or who change the subject whenever I try to share my problems. One pisses me off the worst - if I get diagnosed with a disease, she's got it too, or if I am sick, she's dying. Her daily problems are always mega-tragedies , but if I utter a peep about my problems, she dissolves away like a bad Hallmark TV movie fadeout. To put it politely, too, the way that you can tell she is lying is - her lips are moving. She tells one story to me, another to my best friend, another to still another mutual friend - and none of the stories she tells is the truth. Friend? That's not a friend - that's a selfish user, a spoiled brat, an emotional vampire. Kickin' her to the curb.

Another "friend" whom I have helped over and over again is gone now too - because in a typical selfish fit, he was downright nasty and insulting on the phone. I've lost count of the times he called me over the years threatening suicide and expecting me to talk him out of it. He blames it on the liquor. Whiny and pathetic when sober, stupid and loud when drunk, he is perhaps one of the best representations of someone useless taking up peoples' air. He'll never change - because he can always find people to help him. Not me, and not any more. Next time he can kill himself (not that he ever will. No guts). I invented a manual for suicides once. Think I'll send him a copy. Oxygen is in short supply. Kickin' him to the curb.

There's other ones, too - the ones I've known for years who think nothing of calling or emailing for urgent help, insisting that they can't do it themselves - and when the work is done, no calls, nothing, and certainly no interest or concern about what I had to drop or change, or what emotions I had to put on hold to change gears to do something for them. They don't ask because they don't want to know. When they insist "You don't tell me anything!" - it's because when I start to, they either change the subject or get that foggy look in their eyes that says 'not listening not listening'... Kickin' them to the curb.

It must be my face, that seems so open, or my eyes, that look like they care, or appear sad or interested. Guess what? They aren't, and I don't. Never really have. Instead I listen to see what they are going to demand from me next, and start planning my days on how I can accommodate them and their little problems without disrupting my life.

This week I was told by several people that I looked better and healthier than usual. Well, I am. I'm not happier - that isn't happening with the deep and painful load I personally bear, every day, without even bothering trying to tell anyone about any more. These bastards won't listen, don't want to know, don't care if they do know, and have made that very plain. But I am slowly picking off these sand burrs that have been riding me for so long, itching and scratching and burning my soul with their constant and annoying little pricks. I am going to dump them all, one by one, until there are none left. I don't need them - and they can always find someone else to need. They think that I don't know why they do it - it's because they know that I am smarter, better than they are - and the only way they can feel equal to me is to 'fool' me into letting them use me.

And that's my New Year's resolution. I resolve to scrape off these selfish, whiny, hapless, helpless, schmoozing, simpering little pricks. Let them find someone else to sink their burrs into, let them find someone else to torment and torture with their pathetic needs and wants, let them stand on their own or rot in hell. Let them try laughing or sneering behind my back, thinking they've pulled still another one over on me. Now that they have developed their mewling, grasping, sickening dependence, let them stand or fall on their own. I don't really give a shit; not about them, nor their little problems, nor their simple-minded grasping petty needs.

I have a very few friends with whom I can share everything, and everyone else is just a non-entity, a nothing, a nobody, stuck on me for the ride. Well, the ride is over.

Friday, December 21, 2007

Christmas Thoughts

A wowzer of a party last night; good friends, good food, good drink and making merry with people whom I love and respect. The best parts of the night were the impromptu dancing/singalongs and the comical imitations of people we know.

Love is a many splendored thang.

There's an overriding sadness in my heart, though. The Muse is tired. I am exhausted by the emotional vampires of the past year. One in particular I had to discipline in a very uncomfortable and painful way. A 'friendship' of 8 years that he casually and drunkenly destroyed with a terribly insulting voicemail message that inflamed my husband to murderous rage and that forced me to take action. Tis the season - of emotional cripples ramming their selfish and simpering, "I-can't-help-it-it was-the-liquor-drugs-pain-in-my-heart" down the throats of people who try to comfort and help them. Grow the hell up. I would say I've probably lost a friend but a friend does not only, endlessly, take in a relationship, so I haven't lost anything at all, really. A muse cannot inspire those who refuse inspiration, and those who merely depend on me for brief and endlessly repetitive assurances that they are worthwhile waste my time and my life. Of course, like most, he will take offense that I took offense at his crossing the line from friendship into insult. The attitude of the endlessly self-involved.

Yes, the Muse is tired. I see my future before me, like a long and dusty rutted road. I know where I am determined to go, where I want to go, where I want to be. But I will have to give up so much for it. I will have to leave loves and passions behind and determinedly head for where I want to be, the next stage of my life, what I sincerely and honestly have always wanted to do. And the people with whom I associate now will not be a part of that. They will be out of my life forever. But that is what I choose. To satisfy my deepest desires - that only a few really know - and to come to the final culmination of my life at last.

My last Christmas Party - spent with the people whom I most love, respect, honor, and admire - and now it is for me to quietly continue to fade into that peaceful oblivion where my own quiet joys and satisfactions will at last be met. I have done all that I can here. Another life awaits.

Tuesday, December 4, 2007

I Made Two People Laugh Yesterday

One was a caller for the Hillary Clinton Campaign. I got a giggle out of that - the lady sounded like she really didn't believe in Clinton, either. I told her not no but HELL no! and she busted up laughing. Of course, I was laughing too, and kidding her... What's a nice girl like you doing wasting her time like this? Getting paid, of course.

Another woman called with a survey for my bank. Now, I LIKE my bank. Never had a problem with it - and when I did, they straightened it out so swiftly that it didn't become a problem. Nice folks. Efficient folks. So I gave them high ratings - except for the fact that they are in the lobby of WalMart, which sux for them - because they never have any sort of decent line-up ability, no privacy, always busy and always on display like ducks in a shooting gallery. So I told the surveyor that and she got tickled.

I do like to make people happy, make em smile, give them something to grin at later. I guess that's why I got so MAD when I talked to a good friend today. Here we have an older lady, nice, kind, quiet, friendly, always offering her time and money to charitable causes - and simply because she won't vote for and support a complete moron, Moron and his wife have started a lying campaign to destroy her character. Mrs. Moron is a loudmouthed brassy female with a past that is VERY well known - abandoned her children, used everyone, had sex with most of the now-men in the county - and now that she has married Inherited Moneybags Moron III, thinks her shit doesn't stink. She loves to wear dresses made for 20-somethings - and she and her body are a FAR cry from that. She has neither the grace nor the class to know that her skin is too wrinkled and her butt too big to play Queen of the Sluts, bending over and showing off her shriveled dugs, or her temperament too well known for playing the doting granny when her children never knew her - any more. She nor he have no idea that all the men who have slept with her - most of whom she probably doesn't even remember! - make snide remarks when she and he pass by. Yet She and IMM III - who in private describes the people who admire him as idiots - think they have a right to trash everyone who doesn't agree with them. It took me two hours to talk my friend down, she was so upset at the Morons.

I love karma. Their time is coming, and both are such Morons that they do not know it, don't think it can ever happen to them, think that they can do whatever and whomever they please and get away with it forever, simply to satisfy their own selfish desires - just as they've lived their entire lives. And if I can help push it along, with my poor abused and maligned friend - you bet your ass I will.

So yes it was good to make those anonymous yet friendly people laugh.... but it will be better to watch the Morons cry.