Pet Peeves


  • Peeve: ATM (not the porno kind)- Need some cash. Fast. Ah, there’s an ATM. Damn, someone is using it already. At least there is no lineup. I’ll wait… [tick tock, tick tock] Jesus, what is this person doing? Managing his stock portfolio through the ATM? Do you really have to punch in 1 value on the keypad, analyze the screen for 10 seconds, punch in another value, repeat analysis? Get on with it!!!!! No, wait! You do NOT need to deposit each cheque individually, you jackass!! Oh my God, he’s got 5 cheques!…  [tick tock, tick tock] Finally! Deposit complete! Now, stand aside! Oh, don’t you do it! Gaaaa! Request for printout of latest transactions!… [tick tock, tick tock] Finally, is it now my turn? No, wait, it isn’t. Analyzing his cursed bank statement. There’s a space not 2 meters away for you to do that! He sees me. I know he sees me waiting. Motherfucker thinks it’s his right to take his time. Oh God, now he’s rearranging all the items in his wallet. Man, why doesn’t he just order in a pizza?

Solution: All people like this, and they are legion, should be made to surrender all of their ATM cards and made to wait in line for a teller with the old grannies – even if it’s just to withdraw $2.50 to feed the meter. They should then be publicly horse whipped.

  • Peeve: Passing lane on the highway- Need to get back to Montreal. Fast.  Oh, what’s this? Another loser stubbornly cruising down the passing lane at exactly 100 KM per hour!!! Damnit! Asshole’s chest all puffed out. Two hands firmly on the wheel with resolute determination not to move the fuck over. Miserable washed-out wife beside him and 2 snot-nosed little brats in the backseat look like they are returning from the wars. I know exactly what you’re doing, dude. You are thinking: “The speed limit is 100 KM per hour and so I have every right to drive in the passing lane at this speed”. And I know you know that you are pissing off everyone who you are holding up behind you. And I know exactly why you are doing it. You are exerting the very little control over the very little you have in your pathetic failure of a life and this is basically the only way you can have any influence over other people.

Solution: All people like this, and they are legion, should be made to push a rock star’s limousine all the way from Montreal to the concert in New York City down unpaved country roads. They should then be publicly horse whipped (preferably in Times Square).

  • Peeve: Escalators  (variation on the same peeve as above) – Need to get to work. Fast. Oh, what’s this? Another loser stubbornly standing steadfastly on the left side of the escalator blocking people – people who want to use the 2 legs that God gave them to actually walk – to get from A to B faster. Again with the entitlement complex. I know exactly what’s going on in your little, shrivelled-up, dick sack brain: “This is an escalator and I have every right to stand here blocking people because if you want to walk you can use the stairs”. Fuck you. Did you ever consider that people who actually have lives to lead might find it most expedient to take the escalator AND walk?! And all you have to do is take your lazy, no-account fat ass and move it over to the right. But nooooooooo! It’s your right to stand there on the left, arms-crossed and eyes fixed forward, while everyone behind you fumes.

Solution: All people like this, and they are legion, should be made to crawl up and down the stairs of Oratoire St-Joseph on their knees 100 times and never be allowed to use an escalator again. They should then be publicly horse whipped.

  • Peeve: Toilets- Need to take a crap. Fast. Oh, what’s this? 1st stall: full of someone else’s crap. Shit. Bastard couldn’t be bothered to flush and it’s really gross. 2nd stall: Jesus Christ – another bed of toilet paper encasing the entire seat because some asshole’s precious ass had the right not to come remotely close in to contact with a surface that someone else’s precious ass had previously come into contact with.  Asshole can’t even be bothered to throw out the toilet paper throne so meticulously constructed. So much for working for a United Nations environmental organization when asses and shit are more valued. 3rd stall: piss all over the seat! Fine, back to 1st stall, flush down that eely black goop and deal with it. Only other alternative is to shit my pants and suck my thumb until somebody comes to help me.

Solution: Rather than going on a ridiculous capacity-building, team-building retreat, everyone should receive mandatory, exhaustive toilet training at the end of which everyone must sit a rigorous exam whereby one must be able to sit on the toilet, take a shit, wipe his/her ass, flush the toilet and leave seat, top and bottom unblemished by any bodily fluids whatsoever. Unfortunately, this resolution will likely not be adopted until COP 57 in the year 2289 and so the only interim solution is public horse-whippings all around followed by licking out all of the public toilets in Beijing.

  • Peeve: Al Queda and Taliban Militants: I’m a smart 13 y.o. girl and need to get out of the Middle East. Fast. I’m walking along the street with the brother of my cousin to go buy some candy. Oops, I forgot to get permission to go buy candy with the brother of my cousin because I didn’t even know I needed permission. Oh my God, I’m getting beaten and raped by a bunch of soldiers because it’s their right to do so in the name of God. Oh my God, I’ve been thrown in jail and getting beaten and raped some more in the name of God. Oh my God, I’ve been sentenced to death by stoning for the crime of walking along the street with the brother of my cousin to go buy some candy without permission. All in the name of God.

Solution: Maintain the fight in the Middle East to round up these psychopaths who pour acid into the eyes of young girls just because they want to go to school. After the public horse whippings (preferably in Times Square), these guys should be nailed into the desert sands with their mouths wired open for anyone, male or female, to take a great big hairy shit down (no need to clean up after). Then, let them rot to death under the brutal heat. I imagine not even the vultures will find this kind of carrion palatable.

I guess pet peeves and rights are relative too. Thank you, Einstein.

About Requiem for the Damned

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