This Post is Offensive

Not because I want it to be offensive, but because it will be . . . to somebody, somewhere.

How do I know that?

Because EVERYTHING offends somebody.

I’d like to thank BarbaraM for inspiring this post.  She was the first (and at this point, the only) person to comment on my last post.’

Understand, I have nothing against Barbara or anything she said.  She simply brought up a point for me that is very potent.  How a single word can inspire offense, anger, disdain and downright outrage.  I’m glad she has taken an interest in my posts and in my endeavor to be a stand up comedian, and being one of the very, VERY few people to weigh in on my quest, I look forward to her input.

But her last comment inspired this post, and for that, I thank her, because it is a very important topic, particularly in our current political and apparently sensitive society.

At what point did we start to make everything everyone said about us as individuals?

The example Barbara brought up was the difference between “Handicapped” and “Disabled”.

Let’s break that down.

A golfer has a “handicap” . . . it’s a recognition of something they are unable to do or have a difficult time achieving.  If they were “disabled”, it would indicate that they couldn’t do it at all.

We don’t have to agree on that, it’s simple fact.

So, in defining a parking spot, should the disabled be given precedence over the handicapped?

In the end, they are simply words.

One person may need a cane, another may need a wheelchair, and yet one more may forget where they fuck they are once they are three steps from the car.  Are they all not handicapped in some way?  Does this not display a disability in all examples?

At what point did we become offended by a WORD?

I have a serious problem with this.  Not because I’m afraid I’ll offend someone, but because someone will be offended by what I say.

WHO THE FUCK AM I??

I’m just a dude that said a word.

A WORD.

I didn’t drive a truck through a crowd.  I didn’t open fire on a crowd of people.  I didn’t fly a plane into an American icon and change history forever.

I said a word.

I’ve said “retarded”, but I still have compassion for those that truly are.  It wasn’t ever a derogatory comment against anyone that falls into that category, it’s simply a descriptive term.

I’ve said “cunt” . . . with various intents.  Some in direct insult and a few others which shall not be discussed but let’s just say it was fun for all involved.

The point is, I have no idea where this current state of “Oh my, I’m so offended” came from.

At what point did we stop letting shit “roll off our back”?

We have become a generation of absolute PUSSIES.

I’ve learned something very important in my exploration of the comedy world.  I’ve found what works and what makes the biggest names.

Your anger.

Look at the big names:

Bill Burr:  Screams at everyone, jokes are misogynistic, foul fucking language and “cunt” is his favorite word, but learn his background and he’s a goddamn sweetheart.

Louis CK:  Hates his life and his divorce and pretty much everything that ever happened ever . . . and you laugh at it, because he makes it funny and look at his website and buy his series and this man is actually an incredibly sensitive genius.

The thing these dudes have in common is that they give ZERO shits that you are offended.  They’re over it.

And they are successful.

Because there is a large portion of us that GIVE ZERO SHITS that people get offended, and I do NOT apologize that I am taking the exact same stance.

I’ll sum it up like this . . .

Sorry, not sorry.

My intent is not to offend, but if you are, the problem is YOURS, not mine.

I’m here to bring humor to your life, as well as mine.  I grew up with bullshit and judgement.  It designed my sense of humor and helped me survive to where I am now.  I grew up under alcoholism and narcissism and nothing I ever did was right.  I grew up being told that if I didn’t wear a tie and work for the man, that I was a piece of shit.

I’m over that.  I grew past that.  I’m proud of who I am and who I became DESPITE the bullshit I was told.  I have my issues and I have accepted them and I use them to grow, even as I enter my 50’s.

My childhood and my upbringing SUCKED, but I’m not blaming you or me for it.  I’m going to use it to entertain you and anyone else that wants to listen.

I’m a child of an alcoholic narcissist.  I’m also a recovering alcoholic.

So, I’m telling you now, I’m going to offend you.  Maybe not today.  Maybe not a year from now.

But I will.

Understand this . . .

It is never personal.

It is just me.

At the end of the day, that is really all we look for in entertainment.

Things that are not what we are.

Or things that are EXACTLY like we are.

 

The Day I Found Out I Was Banned From The Library

 . . . and that day was today.

No, I’m not kidding, but not banned in the way you are probably thinking.  I did not stage a vivacious flash mob in the lobby, and I didn’t do an interpretive dance version of Stephen Kings “It” for the 3 – 5 year old Saturday Morning Reading Corner.
 . . . that anyone can prove.

No, I found out that I can’t look at the very words you are reading right now, and neither can you.

I passed on picking up the laptop from Liz’s house this weekend because I thought it might be nice to sit in the nice, quiet library and maybe type up another rambling rehab a thought provoking, humorous blog post.

. . . but no, it was not meant to be.

 Apparently I may be considered obscenity, as is Google and my Gmail account and any and all of YOUR blogs too.

Don’t know where they could have got that fucking idea.

Remember back in the day whenever you needed knowledge about anything at all, the answer was always, “Go to the library”?  The library was the Google of the pre-internet era.  It was that or 2 years and $1900 later, you too could own the entire Encyclopedia Brittanica set that was obsolete and out of date by the time you had the whole thing.  So all you needed to know, you could get at the library.

Apparently, that’s still true today.  You can still find everything you need to know at the library … if they think you need to know it.

Why is that?

Because little Johnny Jackass decided to illegally download the latest Flo-Rida album at the library.

Because Jimmy Jerkoff thought it would be cool to rub one out at the library so his mom didn’t see it in his browser history.

Is it censorship?  Maybe.  If it is, it’s selective censorship (but isn’t all censorship selective by nature?)  There is a reason I point out the selective nature. While the library is protecting you and I from both my self-righteous opinion and my liberal tossing of the f-bomb (as opposed to the tossing that has been banned by the Athlone Institute of Technology Library), some things seem to have slipped through the cracks (that statement will be hysterical in a minute).

There is a musty fingered waiting list for one of the 25 copies of the 50 Shades of Grey DVD’s.  (Told you that shit was gonna be hysterical, but that’s why I’m banned.)

“But Eric!”, you squeal with delight, “We can take the DVD back to the privacy of our own home”! *shudder*

Point taken, so let’s go with it being yet another case of the many being punished for the deeds of the few.  The janitor had a small biohazard spill in one of the computer cubicles, so instead of punishing the choker of the chicken, we’re not going to let anyone go anywhere on our beloved internet except the Food Stamp application website and the YouTube channel of Billy Graham reruns.

Johnny “I’m an upper middle class white boy gangstah” Jackass managed to download a bootleg copy of Hot Tub Time Machine 2, so instead of monitoring for excessive bandwidth use, we’ll just cut you off from everything except finding out how far down the 50 Shades waiting list you are.

While we’re at it, I heard there may have been a couple of DUI’s last night, so let’s ban cars and have all the vehicle manufacturers focus on public transportation so our dumb asses can be told where to go and how to get there because we, the general public, apparently don’t have sense enough to tie our own fucking shoes.

Which, given the level of intelligence I encountered at McDonald’s this morning, may actually be true.  (Click that link only if you are prepared to join a very long debate on the validity of the $15 McDonald’s hourly wage.)

No, because of Spunkmaster Flash, the internet challenged that have to depend on the library for internet access are denied access to legitamately excellent writers.  They don’t get to read Lizzi’s quest for global compassion and liberal spreading of glitter.  Women trying to escape abuse and are looking for advice can’t benefit from the experience, strength and hope of The Sisterwives.

They are denied the healing power of laughter from JeffAlysonKathrynSarah and so DAMN many others that you can find over there on my sidebar.

(There are SO many more of you, please forgive me as if I tried to list you all, it would double the word count of this post.)

Someone trying to find the encouragement to get sober might miss the very thing they needed to hear in some of my own posts.

I suppose I should thank the library.  I should thank them for giving me something to vent about and thus validating this blog as being what I have always claimed it to be, my own personal therapy session.  All I wanted was a nice, quiet place to vent my frustrations and perhaps help another human being or two or a hundred, or at the very least, maybe provide them with a much-needed laugh.

I can’t do that, though, because I might say “fuck” or post a pic of Tom’s nuts or, God-forbid, talk about Beth Teliho’s Vagina.

 

Tom’s nuts.

So instead, I pulled up a chair at Starbucks, drank far too much coffee and typed most of this post on my 1st generation iPad that isn’t supported beyond iOS 5.1.1 and crashes if you look at it funny.

  I’m lucky despite the fact that I don’t always portray that on here.  I still got to vent and get my word out whether you agree with it or not.  Not everyone has that advantage and today’s world isn’t making it easy for those without it to obtain it.

So stop by your local library and get on one of the computers they provide for “your convenience”.  If you can’t access your own work, stand up and tell them to quit being a dick or you’ll be forced to masturbate to Billy Graham YouTube videos just to prove a point.

It won’t work, but damn, what a blog post you’ll have!

Namaste Motherfuckers!

(I’ve had waaaaaaaaay too much coffee.)



Don’t forget your chance to win a copy of Surviving Mental Illness Through Humor, an anthology put together by Alyson Herzig and Jessica Azar, featuring a ton of writers you have come to know and love.  It’s too easy to miss out on!  All you have to do is click the ‘SMITH’ link above (or just go back one post and you’ll be there) and leave a comment.  That’s it!  Easy!  You can even drop F-Bombs!  Fuck the library!