Monday, January 28, 2013

i don't know what to title this

my first job out of uni was working for an internet company that ended up being so bad it was king of the watched on watchdog. (for those non uk people, watchdog is a show about things so bad british people actually complain about it. they write to anne robinson who then tells all the other british people what they knew but were too afraid to complain about themselves).

the head of this company was a phenomenal imbecile. however, it is hard to hold genetic defects against someone, even if it pervades the very essence of their being. his greatest flaw, out of his many flaws, was the small fact that he was, and probably still is, a herculian cunt. i don't use that word lightly. Hercules was, to the greeks at least, a deity. or semi deity? im not too familiar with the greek mythologies. in any event, he was the strongest of all the made up people, and stronger than any man could ever be.

but back then, i was young. i knew that people could be cunts, but was always a bit distanced from it. they're not in my generation. my generation could grow out of it, i thought. and if not, surely they won't get anywhere in life.


i used to play football on sunday mornings. the frequently cold, regularly wet, always half asleep and often semi drunk excursions were worth it. i always tried to play on a team devoid of pointless human beings, and for the most part i selected teams well. perhaps only 2 people who should be forcibly removed from the planet did i ever have to share a dressing room with. thats not to say i wasnt surrounded by them on the pitch. some of the opposition players managed to outperform the great many people i have met to form unbelievable, yet true, tales of this blog.

however, there are some that slip through the net. and one of the characters i played with on my team was a shining example of everything one should not want to be in life. his superhero power was to whine. perpetually moaning about everything and everyone in football (and probably in real life - i only once had the misfortune of having to see him elsewhere) could be acceptable if you were any good at football (or indeed anything in life). his football special skill was 'abuse the ref'.
he grew up as the child of a deputy head teacher of the school he went to and abused this power by being a cunt. analogous to cartmen's uncontrollable plight in le petit tourette, he forgot how to not be one.

these are the human beings which i don't think should be able to get anywhere in life. so when you see one being abused for being a mongoloid on a relatively popular podcast i am torn with conflicting emotions. there is a nice feeling, that everyone else instantly can see what a terrific specimen of bile he his. however, there is shock, horror and disbelief that he could get there in the first place. i know life can be unfair, but quite this unfair?

i need to somehow deal with this. i'm going to try to apply the techniques learnt unto me by jared tendler in 'the mental game of poker' to the real world and my current predicament. wish me luck.

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