Pity Party

Disclaimer: I was a little bit pissed when I wrote this post, so there will be some strong language in it.

So one of my readers really took offense at my Homeless BBQ Grill post. I mean she went totally mental. Obviously she didn't read what this site is all about. At this time may I refer all of you to what is written at the top of the left sidebar.

Pushing the boundaries of bad taste and political incorrectness.

That means nothing is sacred. Nada! Zilch. I make fun of everything, including myself.

Anyway, this particular reader went completely mental, I mean totally psychotic, on me. She ripped off this e-mail to me. I have deleted the personal information she put in the e-mail.

So you've worked your ass off all your life, and worked harder after your accident? Good for you! Here's your trophy. And here's your sign, too. SANCTIMONIOUS FUCKING ASSHOLE.

Personal shit deleted but it was essentially Whine. Whine. Wallow in self pity. Poor old miserable me. Life really sucks. Yada Yada Yada

I'm just a mere mortal and you're sitting there in your ivory tower, so I doubt you could ever possibly relate. (Try back surgery - GOC) It *is* all about choices, right?

There, now you know something about me. I hope you'll keep it to yourself.

Now why don't you go back to your tomato plants, your longwinded bullshit posts about how the liberals are fucking everything up, and posting fake tits. You can't relate to my life or anyone else's that isn't exactly like yours, so don't even try.

Y'see, Sweetie, I don't believe in self pity. You think you have it rough? Drop in on a rehab hospital sometime. One of my contemporaries at Shepherd Center was Peter (I think) French. He chased some kids out of his yard. He turned to go back inside when one of them threw a brick at him that hit him in the neck and paralyzed him from the neck down. He could not breathe and had to be on a ventilator. His lungs would periodically get clogged up and would have to be suctioned out. So you think you had it rough. Don't invite me to your pity party. Peter would have traded places with you in a heartbeat. He was totally helpless. What many people don't realize is that spinal cord injured people don't have control of their bodily functions. He had to have a suppository inserted in his butt to crap and a catheter in his penis to pee. He's dead now. So, I'm sorry, I'm not gonna attend your pity party.

You are alive. You can walk, use your arms, pee, and crap.

Yeah give me a fucking medal, because I don't wallow in self pity. What happened to me sucked, but I saw people a lot worse off than I was. It's hard to feel sorry for yourself when you see people who cannot even take care of themselves. I saw a girl last week learning to drive a powerchair by puffing and sipping on tubes. She couldn't move her arms. So excuse me if I don't give a rats ass about what happened to you. Excuse the fuck out of me if I cannot relate to you. I'm too busy relating to people who make what happened to you seem like a picnic. Peddle your pity party someplace else. I rehabbed with people who were never gonna get better. I was one of the lucky ones. I was incomplete so I was not totally paralyzed. I got better. But I never wallowed in self-pity. It's hard to do that when you live for two months with people who are worse off.

What's important is what happens after. I have three words for you: Get. Over. It. I did. Some people see the glass as half empty, some see it as half full. You don't even have a fucking glass. Get the fuck over it. You have a choice now. You can overcome what happened to you, like I did, and be a winnner like me or you can be a fucking loser. I think I know what your choice will be. "I'll take door number 2, Monte, the one that has Loser written on it."

It's obvious that this person is a liberal, because she sends me an e-mail attempting to insult me, gives me personal information about herself, and then hopes I'll keep it to myself. How fucking dumb is that? I am keeping it to myself. It's none of my business. She was just trying to make me feel guilty. Sorry sweetie. Guilt doesn't work with me. I had nothing to do with what happened to you.

So yeah I'll go back to my longwinded posts about my tomato plants (It's been a real wierd year. All the 'maters are small.), how the liberals are fucking everything up (They are.), and posting fake tits (Actually most of 'em are real.). And she's right. I can't relate to her life. I can't relate to losers.

Posted by denny at July 31, 2005 05:27 PM