A Malcontent’s Diary

I am from a country, a particular county. It may be obvious which country I am from, but then again it may not. It does not matter too much because I no longer live in the country in which I was born. I moved quite a number of years ago to a different (but not radically different) country. I mention this because while I have some feelings of patriotism for my old country, and very little for my new country there has always been a third country that I admired more. It is a good, fine country, and I decided a long time ago to “adopt” them in international sports. There I am during every Olympic event or football match, rooting for my adopted country. It is not the flashiest of countries, but most people have at least heard of it. It has achieved moderate success in some sports, and abject failure in others. Either way, I still support them. Some people could accuse me of being ungrateful to both the land of my birth, and the country which I presently live, I shrug off that type of criticism. After all patriotism is the last refuge of a scoundrel (to quote both Lisa Simpson and Samuel Johnson). At least I have take to my adopted country with some pride, friends of mine try to talk to me about my birth country’s national sports teams, and I give them a blank look, but if asked I can name the entire starting XI for my “adopted” country’s football squad. At least I am not a fair weather fan.  Now to the actual point of this post, confession.

I must confess, being the right bastard that I am, I have always had the desire to have “relations” with a female from my adopted country. As a whole, it is not noted for an bevy of lookers. To further make it difficult for me to achieve this goal, my adopted land does not have a strong immigrant community in the country I live.  With this in mind, I had pretty much resigned myself to having this particular goal remain unfulfilled (one of many, but that is another story).  Imagine my surprise about a year and a half ago when as I was drinking myself into a stupor at my local, a buddy of mine introduces me to a girl he works with that just so happened to be from my adopted country! What are the odds? Of course, there were several hurdles to overcome (see my previous post about one). Hurdle number two was that this girl is as mad as a March hare (as I found out after a very few, very brief conversations with her). She has the annoying habit of talking a great deal without actually saying anything that you would EVER want to hear, and here she was at my pub.  After determining that the candle was not worth the game i.e. getting her in the sack was not worth having to listen to her prattle on and on about shit I could care less about, I put my goal on the back burner. There is sat for about a year or so. Finally, either she became less crazy, or I became more desperate (I am not really sure which) I decided to go on a “date” with this girl. One thing led to another and yada, yada, yada, I now feel like a true citizen of my adopted land. Guess I can mark that off my to do list, it was listed right under split the atom in my bathtub.  I can only hope, with fingers crossed, that she is not as insane as I think. However, I am an incurable optimist.  I suppose only time will tell. If I suddenly disappear for a great length of time, call the authorities.

The city in which I reside, survive, exist, but not live, is majority non-white. Not that you’d know from the the way the city founders designed and built the place. The blacks live, as usual for this country, predominantly in ghettos and ‘hoods on the outskirts of town, while the whites live downtown, the richer whites in the suburbs even further out. They get to pretend they’re not a part of it all. Cunts. I hate rich people. Thinkyour money shields you? Why do you think folk take such delight in robbing you? You dumb fucks.

Anyway, I digress. As a white man I am subject to various amounts of racism. This fucking annoys the shit out of me. I know very few whites who are openly racist, and indeed, the majority of whites I know are too busy trying to survive and just get ahead to give a fuck what color your damned skin is. The only person keeping you down, my brother, is yourself.

Blame me for slavery? Want reparations? Another fucking handout? Whitey created a welfare system to appease his misplaced guilt back in the 60s. The Watts Riots? Black-on-black violence friend. Most of the property damage occured to black owned buildings and businesses. What we have now is just a lot of assholes sitting around breeding, waiting for the next check. Funny how when I drive through the hood everyone is so fucking poor yet every motherfucker got spinners on his wheels and a dish on his roof.

I don’t.

Slavery… there’s a bag of worms huh? Wanna know where most of the slaves came from? Black slavers! Damn straight! People have been slaving and enslaving for millenia. Don’t make out that white Europeans suddenly invented it in the 17th Century. All they did was facilitate an otherwise thriving trade. That’s just capitalism motherfucker!

Our secretarial pool is mostly black. Some are also fucking idiots. I don’t believe for a second there is a correlation between the two. I also know plenty of white fucktards. I had cause to reprimand one of the secretaries recently. Within minutes I received a barrage of emails from senior management all but accusing me of racism against poor Ms. Soandso. Racism? No, just the God given gift to spot innate stupidity and call it out. She fucked up. But instead of just saying “sorry”, she runs to her manager who shits his (white) ass and reapportions blame on the poor white drone writing this. Dumb bitch. Both of them.

Part of me wants to rant and scream (aside from this place), but it’s the same when my dog shits on the carpet. He don’t know no better. Ms. Soandso has spent the last thirty odd years of her miserable and generally pointless existance being told that it’s the Whiteman’s fault. What specifically is whitey’s fault doesn’t matter. It just is. I knew a kid back in college who prefaced virtually everything he said with “As a Young Black Man…”. Now that was one angry motherfucker. But he was just a vicim of the same institutional racism we all.

How the fuck are we ever gonna get ahead of this? Answers on a postcard to the usual address.

p.s. thanks for being patient while I figured out how to activate comments…

Sorry for the delay in posting, what can I say? I am a lazy bastard. Being a malcontent does not make me any less lazy. Either way today’s rant/topic is about my office/work. I work in a office that is very structured. The day to day operation is chaos, but the “chain of command” is very rigid. Seniority is, in some respects, very important, age sometimes helps as well.  I am somewhere in the bottom third on this sliding scale of seniority, so my life is not as bad as it could be, but it could be a lot better. However, I am a malcontent, and I am not a fan of rigid party line organizations/authority. Being a malcontent I have managed to obtain a healty dislike and disrespect for three people in my office in particular. Now generally, given the number of people in my office (over 100) this would not be that big of a deal. However, let us explore these three individuals in no particular order.

Number 1- Is to be considered number one in more ways that one, he/she is THE boss. The big cheese, the main man/woman, the gaffer, the head honcho etc. etc.  A rather vapid individual that try as I might I can not manage to respect. A pure figurehead. Would not know how to perform the most basic functions of the job. A person hired tomorrow would be able to do a better “hands on” job that Number 1. Usually has a blank look and a vacuous smile on his face. Not a leader (which you would hope Number 1 would be) a mouthpiece, and one that is out of touch with his minions.

Number 2- Also a apt description as this person is the second in command of the entire office. Number 1′s right hand man/woman. Is at least able to perform the nuts and bolts of the job. In fact, he/she is the person you go to if you have to make a final, serious, difficult decision. The buck really stops with him. Can at least appreciate his hands on knowledge. However, sadly for me, I have had serious, difficult decisions to make, and Number 2 lied to directly to my face about certain things involved in those decisions. Clearly not to be trusted. Have seriously wished a tree would fall on his/her head.

Number 3- My personel favourite. Maybe Number 3 is not a dual description for this person. They are certainly in the top 7 of big wigs in the office though.  Overall jackass and lout.  Has that I am older than you and have done it all attitude. Meaning that he/she thinks that seperate rules apply to them. He/she can call you a jackass or insult your intelligence with impunity, but you can never (even in a joking manner) return the favour. Holds grudges against people for years. A very unpleasant person to deal with on a day to day basis. It is his way or it is wrong, it is just that simple. Never put a step wrong, and never will allow you to forget that you have.  Best to avoid at all costs. Have a real theortical difference with this person.

Lovely eh? Here I am a bottom third small fish, and the people I dislike the most are three of the biggest dogs in the pound. Perhaps, I should give speeches on how to committ career suicide.