The ART: Article 2 - People Who Don’t Know When to Shut the Fuck Up

The Articles of Rational Thought (The ART)

Today I find myself irritated. I know, me of all people... But nonetheless, I am irritated. I’m sure we’re all aware of the existence of people who don’t know when to shut the fuck up, but I’d like a moment to alert you to their continued presence and plague upon my blood pressure.

We all reside within a carefully constructed bubble made from layers of our own unique emotional craziness. When people start poking their asses around where they don’t belong, it puts pressure on that bubble, which is usually enough to make someone lose their shit. Recently, someone invaded my bubble; this is me losing my shit.

At the time of the incident, I decided to swallow my pride, which isn’t as easy as I thought it would be; it was salty and I had to chew it awhile. Washing it down every few minutes with some vodka didn’t hurt either. Anyway, someone decided to comment on a subject that they in no way had any credibility to comment on.

Now this person had the best of intentions, but but so did Hitler. If you have no frame of reference, opening your mouth is like a child walking into the middle of a movie and wondering what’s going on (“Big Lebowski” anyone?). Sometimes people don’t realize they’re pushing your buttons, I know this, but there are some signs that will tell you that you are, in fact, pushing someone’s buttons. However subtle, they’re there. Such as changing the conversation suddenly, fidgeting in their chair, or explicitly stating, “I DON'T WANT TO TALK ABOUT IT.” But apparently the latter is still too subtle for some.

The voice in my mind explained to my bubble-intruder “discussing this with you would be like asking my dick for advice; it may even stand in attention, but anything that comes out of its mouth is only useful in dressing up a tissue before it’s tossed in the garbage.” Would that have been to harsh to say out loud?

All venting aside, I don’t want to be misunderstood as to why I didn't lay into this person. If inclined to, they could put me in a body-caste with ease. That in no way lead me to keep my mouth shut. This was about respect and practicality.

Remember, sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will cause thirty to forty thousand dollars in long term psychological care. And I’m a fucking gangsta with words.
West, west y’all.
Peace, I’m out.