Hooha!

A few months ago I was drinking whiskey in an outdoor hot tub with a member of the secret service who had overseen the safety of the prince of Qatar while he was in America to get his penile implant serviced. Now, I’ve been all around the world, and I’ve done some wacky stuff, but believe me when I tell you that I know when I’m outclassed, story wise. This guy had tons of great stories, some of them involving his tenure as a member of the Men In Black and some involving his special ops deployment in Iraq. So, for every story I had about a drunk Austrian girl punching me in the face out of nowhere, THEN trying to grab my dick through my jeans, then barfing on the floor, THEN trying to kiss me, THEN passing out, face first into the bar, this dude had a story about tracing the aerial trajectory of missiles that blew up his jeep back to some remote village and searching through the local chicken coops to find the old lady with the keys to the rocket launcher. That’s just a better story, no two ways about it.
SO, of course, as often happens when humans drink whiskey in hot tubs, we ended up pretty drunk and I, being the kind of guy who (especially after some cocktails) figures that everyone can always empathize with my hilarious world view, made some pretty dumb, standard, privileged white guy blanket generalizations about war, soldiers etc. And guess what? He was pretty bummed. I don’t know if it was my dumb teen angst just bubbling over due to drinks or maybe some sort of latent jealousy due to his vastly cooler stories, but either way, pretty lame of me, especially because I really want to hear some more of dude’s stories, but if I was him, I wouldn’t waste my time telling my good stories to some peacenik dipshit knowitall judgmental smartass who’s never so much as gotten his teeth knocked out, much less had guns shot at him.
I used to have the small minded view that if you were involved in the military for any reason at all, you were a dick. My general theory was the typically simplistic “Don’t be part of the fascist machine! ‘I was just following orders’ is no excuse for the rampant militarism that we practice with our bloated military, bro!” This is a great view, if you’re white and privileged and don’t really have to worry about money and you can afford to sit in your safe neighborhood and cast stones at people who often have very limited options, career wise, but if you’ve done any sort of real thinking about the way the world, and specifically America really is, you’d realize how absolutely shitty this whole theory is. I don’t like militarism any more than you, but blaming some kid who went to an army job to try to better his situation and feed his family for military aggression is a lot like a guy blaming his dick when his girlfriend finds him fucking the neighbor. It’s really kind of oversimplifying, passing the buck and generally, it’s not gonna hold up under any sort of scrutiny, unless you’re a totally self righteous judgmental dickbag, in which case, whatever, you’ve already got it all figured out, I guess.
So, I suppose the point is, snap judgments about people based on their jobs almost always make you look like an asshole. Now, there are a few jobs that almost always DO attract assholes, and if you have one of these jobs, it’s really kind of on you to prove you’re not a total bag of shit. A small list:

Cop- At the risk of sounding melodramatic, the cops are essentially the occupying army in America. Their enemy is us. Everyone, and I mean EVERYONE, from my grandma to seven year old kids, have a story about some insufferable prick cop just using his power to make their lives miserable in some small way. There’s absolutely never been a time when I’ve felt safe because a cop was around and there’s never been a time when I’ve felt served or protected by a cop. I know, I know, there are some bad apples everywhere. Nope. In this case it’s the other way around. Cops fucking call me on the phone and intimidate me to try to make me donate money to their charities and then threaten me with thinly veiled promises of less protection or more scrutiny when I suggest that I’m not really interested in donating to them. Cops come into my bar, and without fail act like such sociopaths that it’s just as easy to spot a plain clothes officer as a uniformed one just by saying ‘hi there.’ They glare at me like I'm just fucking a dog right there or something and keep walking. Cops in my town don’t even really hide the fact that they despise the civilians. I’ve seen three cops laughing and punching a girl in the face in the middle of a busy street, and that’s in a fairly nice white neighborhood. I can’t even begin to imagine how shitty the cops are to people they REALLY don’t have to be accountable to. There ARE a few good cops out there. I know two myself. That’s the thing, though. They’re the exception. If you’re a cop, it’s really on you to let people know you’re not a total dildo. Just sayin.

Religious Job (all religions)- First of all, people in this line of work generally think they’ve got all the answers, which is an extremely irritating quality (unless, of course you have a blog and you’re barely employed and you just like to rant). The character flaws in religious professionals are varied and many splendored, from the Catholic tradition of feeding dicks to children to the Hare Krishna tradition of handing me books as though you’re giving them away and then trying to make me pay for them. I’m not interested in hearing about your god in any form. Your job is to convince hobos, junkies and destitute hookers that there’s a better way, keep the people who already believe whatever it is you’re selling that dying isn’t gonna be so bad, and you know, persecuting gays. Please, please stay away from me. I’m still quite a few pints of whiskey away from having any sort of spiritual crisis. Thanks. Oh, and Satanists, you’re all just dorks. All the talk of sexual rites and the sensuality of evil won’t change the fact that there’s no women in your “religion” and all you guys are fat with goatees and you paint figurines in your mom’s basements. I guess that’s not a job. Whatever. Had to be said anyway.

Bureaucrat- Hey! What the fuck are you even doing reading this???? There is a line of people who want their fucking license plates right on the other side of your screen that have been waiting forever while you just sit here surfing the internet and talking to that fat bitch next to you about your daughter’s new ‘creepy’ boyfriend. I realize that life is hell and everything, but Jesus fucking Christ. How bout a tiny bit of customer service? Like looking up? Anything at all? No? Sigh. (okay, spare me the condescending emails. I realize that complaining about the DMV is a lot like talking about how women can’t drive or how jews love money, in that it’s true but it’s been said a billion times. Whatever, asshole. Go write your own list then).

Drug dealer- You! Here you are. Finally. You said you were gonna be here at three. No, you said three, for sure. Whatever. Anyway, what happened to you last month when I was waiting on the corner in the fucking snow for three hours while my girlfriend called my cell phone every five minutes asking me where the fuck you were? You were playing poker, eh? Well, I’m pretty fucking pissed, man. You ruined my weekend. HEY! Where are you going? No! I was kidding, bro. No, it’s cool. Poker’s a great game…I totally lose track of everything when I play pok…What? Fifty? It was forty last time. It looks like the EXACT same shit…Really? He got busted? Fuck…Okay, but this better not be that shit that just made me fucking get a headache and shit my pants. No! No. No dude, of course I appreciate you coming all the way across town. Hey, man. You’re the best. Thank you so much! Okay. We’re cool? Sorry about that. Let’s talk soon! How’s your kid?
These guys are all dicks. Total abusive boyfriends. They treat you like shit and then make you apologize to them. Heh. Whatever. Don’t be so into drugs then, retard.

Cable company- You are not helpful and you ruin my day, EVERY day.

DJ at the strip club- Hey, cool bald head, goatee, full sleeve, and flaming short sleeved button up silk shirt, brah! What are the chances you’re not a raging motherfucker? Probably about the same as the chances that you don’t have an eightball and a dick covered in herpes sores in your pocket.

SO, there you go. There are more of these kinds of jobs, to be sure, but I’ve gotta go to band practice, so this ends here. Oh, and my trip to Colorado was great. I got over the shits and the pukes and had a lovely time out there doing what I went out there to do, which was model butt plugs with horse tails on them for a local catalog.
I think my friend Antonia wanted to be included in this entry. She is a yoga instructor. Here’s the thing about yoga, gentlemen. Good for you if you do it, just know that it’s a little bit gay. Yes, that’s right. If you’re a guy and you’re into yoga, you’re a little gay. There's absolutely nothing wrong with gayness or yoga, but don't fool yourself into thinking they're not connected. On the gay meter, it’s between ‘i’m straight but I like it when chicks play with my butt’ (not gay, but some unimaginative people will be confused anyway) and ‘I just suck dicks, but I don’t, you know, do the whole buttfucking thing’ (extra kind of gay). Yoga’s right in between there. I don’t care how good your body looks because of yoga. That’s gay too, by the way. Women and gay men are the ones who tend to obsess over their bodies, because, well, they’re trying to attract men, and men are clods who only care about what guys/gals look like.
Women, on the other hand, don’t usually care about that stuff as much, which is why rock hard abs are mostly the territory of gay looking guys (that’s right, dude with abs, you don’t look tough, you look like you spent all week in front of a mirror), and guys without any abs often have the beautiful girls on their arms. If you want to impress girls, work on your confidence. Or just keep up with the yoga and prove me wrong. That’s cool too.