Posted by: Snake Oil Baron | August 1, 2009

A Funny Thing

I had almost forgotten to blog about this: Early this week I had a fascinating and rather humourous encounter on the street. Now, I don’t know if it is an east coast thing, a Canadian thing or just a youth-of-today thing but around these parts it is not uncommon to witness some young whippersnapper screaming incomprehensible insults out a car window at people they don’t know who are walking on the sidewalk. The screamer’s male groupies and pre-skanks (girls who have not yet acquired enough VD and drug addictions to be full skanks but are already hanging out with guys who are obviously not there to provide intellectual stimulation) laugh uproariously as the vehicle flees. One rarely gets a good look at the little darlings but that’s probably for the best. Well, earlier this week I got to view the scenario played out in slow motion since the screamer did not have a car to shout from.

A little background would be in order. I am in my mid-thirties with glasses and a slight gut. Not what a sensible person would call fat but obviously not in the best of shape. Recently I came to live in an area where a ten minute walk brings me to a park with a small oval walking track as well as a more mosquito-infested walking trail. Forty minutes of walking around the track, while muttering to myself about how pathetic journalists are and how damned our society is and how vast the number of morons among humanity’s ranks is, results in a fair amount of exercise. With the 10 minutes to walk there and back it makes for a good hour of increased heart rate. On a particularly warm day one can work up a fair sweat; especially if one is, as I say, not in the best of shape.

The sidewalk on the way to the park entrance where the walking track is runs for a long stretch with no driveways or turnoffs and has a drop off into the wooded park on one side and a very busy roadway on the other with woods on the other side of it. As I was walking back from the park, tired and sweaty, a male, likely of high school age and a couple of his pre-skanks were walking in the other direction toward me. I didn’t know they were as young as they were as I don’t generally scrutinize people’s appearance as I approach them in public. I didn’t think anything of it as they approached, since I assumed they were in conversation about something, but the male had what I believe is termed in the technical literature “a shit-eating grin”; as if he had thought of the most clever thing ever.

As I normally do when passing groups on a sidewalk I moved off onto the grass to let them pass on the pavement. Just as they were passing by the male says: “Hey there fatty, nice boob sweat!” He actually said “fatty”. Not “fat-ass”, not even “fatso” which would at least make him seem like a junior high school name-caller but “fatty”. Poor kid must have had severe head trauma at the age of nine; stunting his development. No matter. As it registered what he had said I wearily flipped him the bird without turning around. I knew he would be turned around to see my reaction as the reactions of others are all important to these folk. I was expecting several possible reactions. He might just laugh. He might run up and try to sucker punch me but with the sun low and behind me I would see his shadow well before he could reach me. I reminded myself not to push his little stick ass into the traffic or down the drop off where he could puncture a lung on a tree branch to tragic yet humourous effect. I contemplated whether I should take his wallet when the fight was over so I could report him to the cops quickly to establish self-defense and maybe get a few bucks for my troubles. But what happened next really did surprise me.

He took offense. Not physically, as in going on the offensive – he was offended at my giving him the finger. “Yeah!?!!?” he called back, “Well f**k me then!” as he continued walking away. Needless to say I was not expecting a sexual proposition given that he had, seconds ago, tried to insult me. When you give someone the finger it is often translated as “f**k you” but it does not really mean you are asking for a sexual encounter. At least it never did when I was growing up. Lots of girls have given me the finger and not once was it followed up with a clarification as to an offer of sex. I suppose he was caught off guard by my response as he had worked out a narrative where he insults someone – a mid-thirties adult with glasses who is obviously out of shape and tired – and, like all good citizens he tends to encounter, the adult “just walks away”. He then impresses his pre-skanks with how he has the stones to insult people at random and is so menacing that no-one ever says anything. When I screwed up his narrative, he was at a loss for a comeback to what should, in the adult world, not need a comeback. So “Yeah!?!!? Well f**k me then!” was the best he could come up with on short notice. I had, it seems, hurt his feelings.

Now in all fairness to him he may have come up with something really clever after that. Certainly he continued to yelp something but he was still walking in the opposite direction and was being completely drowned out by traffic. It became obvious that I was not going to see his shadow as he ran up to me. I was not going to have to worry about not puncturing his  on a tree branch and I was not going to get hold of his wallet which likely had nothing in it as no-one would be stupid enough to employ him in a job market as tight as this and I suspect that his parents spend every dime on meth. I wonder if his wallet had a zipper on it? On the plus side, I did hurt his feelings and I don’t think even his pre-skanks could have been impressed with his overly hasty invitation to a stranger to have gay sex with him. Guys who want to have gay sex with strangers are not always the best match for an up and coming skank.

I haven’t seen my admirer since. Two males and a female were arrested later in the week down the road from this for a series of violent muggings but I doubt he or one of his pre-skanks could be involved, unless of course the mugging victims were in their fifties or sixties. But then, maybe his failure to seem macho with me made him desperate to prove himself and he turned to violent crime. Maybe I could have prevented the crimes if I had just run after him and pushed his scrawny ass down the embankment. Something to think about when I finally get hold of a time machine.

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Responses

  1. The practice of gratuitous insults shouted from a car window is also popular in & around Bishop’s University. In the absence of suitable reasons for specific verbal abuse, unintelligible jargon can be used.

    I have thought of carrying a pellet gun to control the pest, but so far I have not been motivated beyond the stage of contemplation.

  2. Geez, man. The way you get worked up over stuff like this, and other things, too- minor incidents that, as you correctly pointed out, most normal adults would just walk away from, is kind of unsettling. You seem rather bitter, honestly, writing everything and everybody off as wankers, skanks, etc. The self-congratulatory tone [“I sure showed that high school kid by giving him the finger”] isn’t amusing, it’s just kind of sad. This whole blog is kind of sad.

  3. “I sure showed that high school kid by giving him the finger”

    Ha! I don’t know what blog you read that on but it wasn’t this one. And as for dismissing everyone and everything as wankers and skanks – no, I only dismiss wankers and skanks as such. Why you seem to consider them “everyone and everything” is for you to know. I also didn’t say that most adults would walk away from being slandered without responding but thanks for at least trying to read what I wrote. Better luck next time. I indicate that an adult who was given the finger in response to their own pissy behavior would not feel obligated to come up with a reply. The wanker had tried to intimidate and humiliate a random person for the amusement of himself and his friends and when it didn’t go as he had planed he got flustered. You may not find that amusing but I do.

    It sounds like I might have struck a nerve. Let me assure you that if you are among those who enjoy yelling insults at people who dare to cross your path because it is just so clever or are the type to be impressed by it, I actually do have a lot admiration for you. Being practiced in, or admiring of, slander and verbal abuse indicates that you will no doubt have a distinguished future before you in journalism, politics or community activism.

    I would, however, recommend spending less time reading the whole of blogs you find “kind of sad” and more time cultivating social connections with your local chapter of ACORN or organized crime if you really want to excel at wankerism.

    Good luck.

    P.S. Go microwave your Johnny Cakes.

  4. Etienne: This is a university town also and it has the largest high school in the region so the feral youth population is extremely high here. And this is also the capital of the province so between the psychotic university profs and the elected Godmen and the emotionally defeated bureaucrats we get a lot of objectionable adult behavior also.

    You also run into the occassional civil or admirable person. It’s sort of like when they discover that little girl among the xenomorphs in Aliens.

  5. It happens rarely down here, possibly due to the relaxed firearms regulations, but whenever one of the local organ donors has had the cojones to try that with me, I always find that verbal trauma delivered up close with cold, dead eyes works best…

    Punk: Hey, you geezing fatass!

    Me: I used to fuck guys like you in prison.

    Very satisfying. Of course, you have to make sure they’re just immature mall rats, and not the local MS-13 social committee, but then, the latter group rarely messes with civilians.

    I blame the lack of beatings that they receive at home. But you can take solace in the fact that someday they’re going to come across someone who isn’t what they appear, and, *thump* another life lesson learned the hard way.

    And for Hurlbut, a little primer: When you reference someone’s writings with quotation marks (“”), that means you are repeating what they have written verbatim, not paraphrasing, or, in your case, just making up stuff. You shit-scarfing little toad.

  6. Shit-scarfing? Why Hurlbut, is this true? I must say, I am rather disappointed in you. Not surprised really but disappointed. The most I had you pegged for was a touch of necrophilia. You know that coprophagous behavior makes a life in journalism and higher office much more difficult to pursue. My advice to you is to have less shit eating and more support for education reform in your platform. Yes, we’ve all seen “Two Girls, One Cup”. But popular awareness does not necessarily translate into public support. Put that turd down and do something productive.

  7. Higgy Baby:

    Beatings are always nice (especially if you want to keep the public out of town hall meetings) but I am beginning to see the wisdom of everyone carrying guns and making murder legal. Sure, there will be innocent and decent people killed at first but the psychopathic killers and dumbasses will make enemies far faster than they can kill people and will be selected out of the population preferentially while their victims will be rather random. Eventually the people in society who are sociable, smart and polite will live longer and have more chances to have kids. Gunpowder Darwinism I say.

  8. I’ve had incidents like this while riding my bike, but I’ve also had the occasional beer bottle or grapefruit thrown at me.

    Now I just drive.


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