I'm Really NOT An Elitist... I'm Just Better Than YOU... or... Ewe Make It So Easy For Me To Nearly Hate Ewe...

Maybe it's the cliques you're all in. Maybe it's the snobby air you exude as you look high into the sky and fail to acknowledge any other life around you. Oh, don't get me wrong, if I could do the same, I would. Fact is, I try to make eye contact though, because you never know who's gonna say or do something to try and throw you off guard. Then again, you can't be bothered. You've got safety in numbers. You've got each other's backs. You pay each other to be friends. To run for pseudo offices in your elitist societal groups. Soccer Moms and Troop Leaders UNITE! Rejoice! For together, you shall impart your "wisdom" from the holy book (NO! NOT the Bible, dear reader, we're talking about the L.L. Bean catalogues, dummy! Come on, pay attention, will you?) and continue to add to your numbers, bringing more and more lost sheep into the fold. Sheep with no direction...just looking to fit in. Looking to improve their position of power, authority, or just to move up the food chain, farther away from being devoured by the faceless, the unimportant. Your flock shall continue to grow daily, hourly, minutely. But you'll never get me. Or mine. I got over you when I got out of high school. The games, the fiefdoms, the hierarchies. Fuck that shit. I gave you far too much of my energy, my fear, my weakness by letting you ruin what should have been a nonstop learning experience instead of a fashion show. That's the past, though. I've gotten past it, and I daresay, have become a better person. Me and Fred Nietsche. Ya feel me? Didn't think so. Because you're stupid. You spend far too much time worrying about what your kid looks like, rather than asking what they're learning. You spend far too much time worrying about who you're going to be seen talking to, than just enjoying the fact that the kids are growing daily in front of all of our eyes. A REAL smile, a MEANINGFUL friendly hello in passing? Nah. You can't be bothered. Shit, I at least give you a smile, even though I'm thinking inside about watching you smash your souped-up Suburban Assault Vehicle head on into one of your "friends" in front of your kids. But enough about me. I want you to know that I refuse to HATE you. You're not worthy of that emotion. An extreme distaste for you and everything you stand for with your bible thumping church social while fucking your best friend's husband behavior (doesn't little Johnny look JUST like his Uncle...er...his godfather...er...his dad?) is disheartening to say the very least. When you grow up, when you rise above your need for social ladder climbing, when you rise above your striving for acceptance into the mindless masses of cattle in the pen we call Earth, MAYBE then I'll give you a small part of my time for a conversation. Meanwhile, I'll be the one wearing old comfortable jeans and hockey jerseys, watching my son continue to be smarter and richer inside than any and all of your beauty pageant offspring. See you at the next cattle auction. Or, hopefully at the next Lemming launch off the highest cliff. Hey, you could've avoided this bile, ya know. Just remember this line from Joe Strummer "When I get aggression, I give it two times back." Yeah.