I’m going to assume that at some point in your life you’ve woken up on the wrong side of the bed, mad enough to trample your neighbor’s flowers and slap a puppy (OK, maybe not that mad). In a mood where the idea of happiness and sunshine disgust you. Not to worry, it’s totally natural. Blowing off steam stops you from either a) Mel Gibsonning out on some innocent bystander or b) bottling it up your whole life until one day something as menial as getting home from a drive-thru to find you only got 2 PACKETS of sauce from Taco Bell triggers a brain aneurysm leaving you face down in your Crunchwrap.
Let the hate flow through you
Aldous Huxley once posited that in life everyone’s experience is so individual, so utterly unique, that no matter how we try to relate to each other—through love, art, Game of Thrones viewing parties—that we’re all doomed to solitude. Every group is “a nation of island universes.” His solution? Take an egregious amount of mescaline with your BFFs. And since I can’t condone collectively taking a bunch of drugs (well… more than we’re already taking), I propose a much simpler solution. Let’s hate on stuff. From big rages all the way down to the minute idiosyncrasies that annoy us, we surely can find common ground.
Schadenfreude, Noun, ˈshä-dÉ™n-ËŒfrȯi-dÉ™: a feeling of enjoyment that comes from seeing or hearing about the troubles of other people.
Let’s face it, deep down we’re all sick and sadistic. Don’t believe me? Consider the invention of the camcorder. Sony released the first commercial one in 1983. And what did we use this amazing technology for? Within six short years, a show called America’s Funniest Home Videos was born. If you’re not familiar, it was basically Bob Saget squawking over clips of people getting hit in the baby maker. America was so collectively thrilled with the testicular torsion of strangers that after 500 episodes, AFV is still running. So don’t disillusion yourself with the notion that humanity is a noble species. Embrace the hate.
It’s the American Way
Being a Toledo native is no walk in the park considering we’re annually reminded via some online list that we’re in the Top 10 worst places to live, or poorest cities in America. Just last year we (despite the amount of twerking Facebook posts I’ve seen) were ranked lowest in frequent exercise and happiness, but highest in smoking and asthma. Though those tidbits should be enough to send you on a tirade about our fair city, consider the fact that you’re still living in America—a country where even minimum wage earners are still able to charge their Wal-credit card for a 60-inch plasma TV (1 year interest-free) to mount in their 98 Aerostar so their kids will just shut up and watch Frozen for the 50th time while they try to get them to their overpriced, underproductive school while getting only 7 miles per gallon and it’s all because Obam….. Sorry I blacked out.
Our lives are ridiculously lavish compared to the insane poverty in a lot of other countries. And it’s because our forefathers had the audacity to gripe and put their lives on the line when they were annoyed with taxes (glad that’s no longer an issue!). If it weren’t for these noble ranters we’d probably all be sipping tea, watching cricket and adding the letter “u” to the word color for no apparent reason.
So consider ranting a civic duty. Pick up a pen and start making mountains out of molehills. It’s good for you, and it’s downright ‘MURICAN!
Ladies and gentleman… Start your bitching!
.jpg)
.jpg)
.jpg)
.jpg)
.jpg)
.jpg)
.jpg)
.jpg)
.jpg)
.jpg)
.jpg)
.jpg)
.jpg)
