Entitled arrogance makes me want to kick your ass into a vat of hot mustard!

I attended our local Father’s Day outdoor concert and was blown away by the hordes of ass-munch, rules-don’t-apply-to-me people.

The organizers had barricaded a six-foot section of grass between vendors because of the huge electrical wires crossing the grass to reach vendors. Please note the word BARRICADE. It was here to protect you from tripping over wires.

I watched not just a few, but hundreds and hundreds of people go through the barricade.

I saw people trip and hit the ground.

I watched one fifty-something lady wind-up her foot, with a nasty look on her face and kick the barricade over so she could indignantly stomp through, obviously how dare anything be in the way of this arrogant, entitled, bitch.

One millennial stopped and stared at the barricade. I told her the walk-path was just six feet to her left. She harrumphed at me and I shit you not said, “Well, that would be out of my way.”

I was with a millennial who told me after watching these idiots, “My generation is a bunch of arrogant dicks. This country is doomed.” (My generation is the parents of these arrogant dicks and we are also to blame for the me, me, me attitude that raised them.)

This young man said he was going to move home on his family land, build a tiny off-grid cabin, grow, sell, barter, and live quietly around people who are considerate of others. I thought we’d done that when we moved here to a town of only 6000. Problem was our beautiful mountains and streams brought the entitled pricks and their supremacy-over-all attitudes.

When the overwhelming majority of the 322 million people in the US believe they are entitled…be this rich arrogance or those who want a lifetime of something without working for it…we have written our death warrant as a country.

I recently held a door for an older woman and it literally brought her to tears. It was the first time someone she didn’t know had shown her any help in years. YEARS! I say to my tiny community, you suck! You think attending or volunteering at benefits makes you wonderful, kind and generous, while you walk by this old woman who just needed a door held for her.

If you can’t be seen spreading your dough…you’re out of the show!

If there isn’t a stage…you’re off the page.

You’re not going to help…if social media doesn’t Yelp.

Believe what I spew…or we’ll reeducate you until you do.

Everything’s about me…or you’ll regret you don’t agree.

Maybe the naysayers and sci-fi writers are right about the “it’s out of my way” attitude many people live by…It’s going to take a total breakup, grid down, nuclear explosion, catastrophic war on our soil, taken over by aliens, any event that leads to the total collapse of US before we eventually change the horrific way we treat each other.  Because obviously, no one learns from history.

George has never met a light he could turn off

“Are you going back into the bedroom?” I asked George.

“Of course.”

“Soon, or are you referring to a time when an alien life form with 17 feet, nine eyes and four brains invades earth?”

“Sarcasm doesn’t turn off lights.” George said.

“Apparently, neither do you.” I flipped the switch off. “And how did you know I was talking about a light being on? Maybe I wanted to play a little bed hockey.”

“Would the light be on or off for that?”

Why did I even ask? Normally, I do a quick walk-through the house after George leaves. I get absolutely giddy when my stroll turns up only one light left on.

Last week I almost had a stroke when my walk through yielded all lights turned off. I started to walk back upstairs from his office, when one of the numerous voices in my head said, “check the garage.” Sure as shit…the light in the storage room was on.

Ahhhh, it’s good when all is right in your world.

I had an anxiety attack at the grocery store.

A full-blown panic attack: chest tight, can’t breathe, I’m going to die, run for your life, panic attack...and not because the prices were high or the tomatoes too ripe.

It started when I decided since I’d awakened early, I would go to the grocery store so I still had the whole day ahead of me to lie around, watch reruns of Bones, and eat mini-candy bars. A solid plan.

I walked through the grocery store door at 8 a.m. got a cart and my world exploded. The store floors were stacked with boxes in varying stages of restocking. There were few shoppers and even fewer employees…all very unhappy. I tried to push my cart up the produce aisle; it didn’t fit so I stepped over open boxes with food spilling out to get to the lettuce. Before reaching the lettuce I heard a crunch under my foot and discovered I had stepped on an entire family of asparagus.  Every little head smushed to smitherings.

My chest tightened and I ran for my cart. I next tried the meat counter where again boxes were everywhere and I couldn’t get near the meat. I was forced to begin the climb to feed my family.  The boxes were stacked four feet high. One foot after the other I made my way up and over, until one foot began to slip. I grabbed the edge of the top box and held on thinking about George and his need for a Rib-eye.

My successful hunt for meat over, I started hyperventilating when the next three aisles looked like an earthquake had hit. Passage was literally impossible. Cut-up boxes were everywhere. It was a massacre. I left my cart, and ran for the door. I could hear the granola bars spilled on the floor cheering on my escape.

Once outside I took a deep breath, then went to the other large grocery store where I was greeted by two employees wishing me a good morning and asking if they could help me. The aisles were clear. The prices ridiculously high. I didn’t care. I could breathe, my head wasn’t going to explode and celery wasn’t stalking me.

I’m still having nightmares about the first store. Last night I was chased all over the store by cardboard monsters with cantaloupes for heads, throwing pickles at me. I stopped at the pharmacy for help and the pharmacist was a giant colostomy bag with tampons for fingers. I don’t care how much Valium was tucked in those tampon hands; I’m never shopping there again.

If you need proof how R.A.N.S.E.D. people can be…visit Yellowstone.

It’s been a bumper crop year for law-breaking RANSED’s in Yellowstone. Many of these geniuses are voting Americans; the rest prove RANSEDitiy is a global problem. Excuses for global visitors have been offered that they don’t speak our language or understand our laws. Ring the buzzer Drew…The Price is not Right!

It’s your responsibility to know! Oh shit, there’s that word! (I read there’s a movement to have the word responsibility removed from the dictionary, since it’s already removed from society.)

Personally, I’m tired of excuses for RANSED behavior. Shut your pie-hole…there are NO excuses. Everyone entering Yellowstone is given a warning flyer. (The one pictured is given to non-English speaking visitors.) Plus, there are universal signs all over the Park.

So far we’ve started touron (tourist moron) season with the I-know-best-guy that picked up a baby bison and put it in his car, “because it was cold.” Next were the people who even after all the national news coverage of the bison did the same thing with a baby antelope…and afterwards said they’d do it again. Now that is a super-duper RANSED. (Wait for it…definition coming soon.)

My favorite were the four RANSEDs from Canada who took pictures of the warning signs, and then proceeded to post pictures of themselves breaking that law.  Arrest warrants were issued and these chicken shit RANSED losers ran for the border…hopefully, never to be allowed back in the US again.

While these few made national news there are hundreds of infractions occurring each day.  I witnessed a lady who told her young kids to climb on a bison so she could take a picture. When I, and several others, told her these were wild animals and could kill her children…she informed us we were liars trying to scare her children, as the government would NEVER allow dangerous animals to be loose in a Park.  No shit! An American, born and raised believed that.

In one of the souvenir shops I witnessed two kids laughing while opening the protective plastic on numerous $50 each bear pepper sprays. Wanton felony vandalism!!!!! An employee told the parents their kids had to stop destroying merchandise; the packaging was for safety since it was dangerous if they sprayed it on themselves or others. The father created a scene stating he was a lawyer from New York and he’d, “own this park and everything in it,” if his kids were hurt in any way since it was the Park’s responsibility to keep them safe. That monkey ass RANSED wins the award in the, take no responsibility and sue everyone else for my actions category.

 Guess what sphincter brain…no one was impressed.

We’ve seen people standing a few feet from giant bull elk having their traveling companions take photos of them with the animal. We try to tell them it is extremely dangerous.  I’ve heard everything from, “don’t care,” to “no speak English,” to “you dumb fucker can’t tell me what to do.” It’s always a pleasure to have foreign visitors insult you when you’re trying to save their life.  Other countries call us ‘Ugly Americans’ for our bad behavior…hey dudes; I got news for you, we’re not the only humans who behave badly…spend a day in Yellowstone if you want to see some worldwide inclusive RANSED behavior!

Last year 52,000 warnings were issued. WTF, someone take the warning pads away and make Rangers issue real tickets that require immediate payment. It’s 2016 people…easy peasy to do, and you’d basically cure the problem in one season. The Parks need to get some gonads!

Also, if I read one more Facebook comment from some pansy ass who says to get over it, the perpetrator apologized, I say we all show up at their house every night, bang on the windows, stomp on their gardens and vandalize their property, then apologize and tell them to get over it.

One thing is for sure: cell phone videos make it easy and fun to expose these assjacks. You can post their RANSED actions on social media, let everyone go to work commenting, while you send a copy to the Park Service in case these knuckleheads end up hurt through their own actions and try to sue the Park, there’s proof they were warned numerous times and chose to be a douche donut.

Finally, here it is for those of you who hung in there with me…

Respect-less

Arrogant

Narcissistic

Soulless

Entitled

Dingle-ass

Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to get back to youtube as there’s a great video of a lady who got to close to an elk and it charged and rolled her RANSED law-breaking butt.

Hanging upside down is therapeutic

“What are you doing?” George asked.

“Trying to get my brain juices flowing.”

“By hanging off the bed upside down?”

“Well yeah!” Sometimes George is so dense. “It’s a scientific fact that if you hang upside down it reactivates stagnant blood and brain fluid.”

“I don’t think there’s anything that’s going to reactivate your stagnant brain.”

“You should be more supportive. I could be suffering from a serious condition.”

“Like what?”

“Brain conjunctivitis simplex stagnation syndrome.”

“You made that up.” George rolled his eyes and went into his office.

“Well if I did then it proves hanging off the bed improves my creative brain function.” Not bad considering I was getting lightheaded.

At the sound of the crash George comes running to find me lying on the floor, contents that were on top of the bedside table, now on top of me. “You fell off the bed, I presume.”

“Maybe.”

“I assume it was caused by your Simple Brain Syndrome?”

“Did you know, from down here I can see straight up your shorts?”

I heard his office door slam shut.