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Passive Aggressive THIS Motherfucker

Posted in humour,rants,satire by YTAH on February 27, 2008
Tags: , , ,

Perhaps, like me, you know someone at work, or in your social circle, who sighs loudly, often, and for no apparent reason. If so, you’ve probably wondered what they’ve done to experience such sadness, loneliness, and despair. Or perhaps, if you’re more emotionally mature, you’ve wondered what you have done to deserve listening to their constant, inarticulate whining. Wonder no more, dear reader, for I have an answer to your problems. I now understand these people, and why their suffering continues unabated. They are afflicted by passive aggression, and why? Because they are deeply unhappy people who have no moral fibre.

Now, I know what you’re going to say. “But you’re also a deeply unhappy person. Does that mean that you have no moral fibre?” No. No, it doesn’t. Because I know that I’m unhappy, and I’m willing to admit it. I have lots of moral fibre. I could give you some leftover moral fibre, I am so full of it. But at least I’m not a pathetic little whiner who expects the universe to pity them. Laugh with me, if you will, but don’t feel sorry for me. Come near me with that compassionate look, my friend, and it will be the last thing you do. Keep your patronizing glance to yourself, or I will rip out your lungs. And if you roll your eyes at me, tutting and sighing, be prepared to spend the rest of your life searching for the other half of your spleen.

Passive aggressive mama’s boy.

You see, I’m afraid that I’ve been dipping in to those self-help books again. Indeed, the same one I read a few weeks ago when I mentioned researching anger management. Of course it contains much that is blatantly untrue, misleading, or impractical, like “Don’t take your anger out on others” (bah!); “Keep a cool head” (rubbish); “See the other person’s side” (fuck off); “Forgive those who anger you” (don’t make me vomit). That’s when I threw that book away and checked another one instead, which turned out to be much more helpful. Unlike the first book, which spouted all this blatant tripe, the author of the other book says that you should analyze your anger and then do your best to honour it.

NOT passive aggressive.

And you know, I think that guy is right. I should honour my anger. This well-read author’s research shows that repressed emotions can contribute to an increased risk of heart disease, stroke, and other stress-related illnesses. Now, I don’t know about you, but I certainly don’t want to go before my time. I want to honour my anger, so that I can live for many more years and continue to bring joy to your trivial lives by writing this column. But that’s just me. All those people sighing? They sure don’t want to stick around; can’t you hear their suffering? Because I can. I can hear it all day long: whenever my headphones go haywire, or someone interrupts me to ask me something stupid, or I need to leave my desk to take a piss. I can hear their exasperation, disappointment, listlessness, and frustration well up within them and express itself in the noisy exhalation of foul air.

But I’m glad to say that I have finally found the solution. “What is this godsend,” you ask, “what is this cure which I am being offered?” Certainly, if you have ready any of my posts thus far, you will know what I am going to suggest. But allow me to state the obvious.

Kill them. That’s right, kill them. After all, that is what they are calling out for – sweet, sweet death. Every time they sigh they are expressing to anyone who will listen their desire to end it all, for a final solution to all their troubles and distress, and it is your god-given duty, gentle reader, to release them from their plight.

How unfeeling you must be not to recognize the suffering of your fellow man; how inconsiderate and self-absorbed, not to desire an immediate and perfect end to the misery of others. Don’t they deserve to have someone put them out of their misery? Don’t they deserve to die?

It’s like those people who, when they are ill, will go the whole day snivelling and snorting instead of blowing their noses. It’s not that they don’t have something to blow their noses with, it’s just that they’re too pathetic to help themselves. Maybe you thought it was because it doesn’t occur to them, or that they’re simply don’t realize how much it annoys those around them, but it’s not. It’s because they don’t give a fucking shit about anyone else. Hell, they hardly care about themselves. They’re terrible human beings. They are too pathetic to fucking live.

Passive aggressive hippy kid.

But see, there’s nothing passive about my aggression. I don’t believe in bottling my emotions. Repression is dangerous, not so? That’s why I express my anger at the first moment that it arises. Now, many people express their emotions by communicating them to the relevant parties in a calm, rational, even tone, whereas others jump around, screaming and shouting. But it’s true what they say: powerful people never shout. That’s why I express my anger through physical, often terminal, violence.

Just the other week, for example, I was watching a movie with the Elephant Man two rows in front of me. You could tell he was the Elephant Man because his head was the size of a beach ball and he was snorting throughout the entire movie. His trunk, or snout, or whatever it was he used to feed himself, was obviously too large to fit into the box of popcorn on his lap, because he was slowly grunting, huffing, and wheezing his way through the crunchy goodness. But by some miracle of nature, one of his hands was completely unaffected by the disease, or perhaps he’d simply been very well trained in whichever circus he was raised in, because he seemed to have no trouble working a cell phone. (Aren’t you glad that they’ve simplified these devices to the point where even the least gifted of us can use them? I know I am grateful for this modern wonder.)

Super-aggressive shit-kicker who would rather make you as dust than tolerate a single sigh or long-suffering glance.

What happened next occurred just as the two protagonists were finally going to have their final confrontation, their momentous debating scene where they argue over the life-or-death issue of whether muffins or cupcakes are better, to which the epic, critically-acclaimed movie had been building up to for the last three hours. It was at this exact moment when our special cinemagoer decided to answer his phone, after having spent the rest of the film happily SMSing away on it. (Well obviously he couldn’t make a phone call. Talking with your mouth full is rude, and while he may have been a freakish abomination of nature, he certainly wasn’t discourteous.) But for whatever reason, his partner in conversation had obviously decided that it was too cumbersome and inconvenient a method of communication, and chose to ring up his friend.

Fortunately for myself and the other cinema patrons, I happened to have my elephant gun on me, having recently returned from a safari in North Africa hunting annoying Scandinavian authors. (Now they can boast to all and sundry in the afterlife, “I bought the farm in Aaaaafrica.”) And so it was that, with some delight, I can assure you, I pointed the barrel towards that annoying bastard and squeezed the trigger. And when his gigantic misshapen head exploded, to general amusement and joy of the company, no-one was asking me to be more considerate, or more forgiving, or less aggressive. They were thanking me. Do you think they would have shown as much gratitude if I’d simply sighed at him, instead of blowing him away? No. Would I now have the elephant man stuffed and mounted on my living-room wall? I hardly think so.

Let this be a lesson to you all. Don’t let passive aggression injure your health and well-being. Kill the people who annoy you. Especially if they don’t behave in the cinema complex.

Yours truly, asshole

[Originally posted on http://www.africans.co.za, on Wednesday, February 20, 2008.]

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One Response to 'Passive Aggressive THIS Motherfucker'

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  1. Lieutenant Vasily said,

    The pics and their captions were suggested by pinvictor, one of the many clever people who writes for http://www.africans.co.za.

    Okay, maybe “suggested” doesn’t quite cover “like totally wrote the damn things”, but there you are.

    (The Chuck Norris was mine, though.)


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