YTAH's Weblog

Patience Is for Wankers. Give It to Me NOW.

Posted in humour,rants,satire by YTAH on March 28, 2008
Tags: , , ,

I hate patient people. As far as I’m concerned, they’re responsible for most of this world’s misery – more so, even, than optimists, minstrels, and jugglers. Patient people are weak, stupid, and utterly incapable of doing anything for themselves. Is there any other reason why they’d be so goddamn patient? The only reason anyone would bother being patient is because they are slow-witted, or have no real purpose in life, or are generally no more than pitiful wastes of everyone’s time.

If you have time to be patient, you have time to die.

Patience is only a virtue when you’re dead. It’s like the religious pundits who’ll try to sell you on the idea that true love waits. What they don’t tell you is that that’s because “true love” is for wankers. No-one else has the patience to put up with your never-ending self-absorption, so it makes sense that you’d need to invent some imaginary other to find anyone willing to countenance your self-centered ramblings. (You know that’s what they mean by “soul-mate”, don’t you?) It isn’t hard to stay a virgin if nobody likes you.

So don’t expect me to be grateful that you graciously allowed someone to overthrow the natural order by jumping the queue to the bathroom just because they were pregnant. Don’t wait for a handwritten thank-you note when you allow your children to run amok in the cinema, screaming and running through the aisles. Don’t spend your evenings by the phone, waiting for a personal call paying tribute to your long-suffering that time you waited 17 minutes at an intersection so that an elderly crap factory could jaywalk while the light was green. Yes, that’s right – I was the person standing right there behind you. And you may have treated those other people with respect and kindness, but you’re treating me like a cunt. I’m afraid you’ve made the wrong choice, because I’m the one carrying the rope, knife, and chainsaw. Soon you will find yourself in the only place where patience is a virtue. And you’re going to need it, because hell lasts forever, and forever is a long fucking time. (Hope it was worth the wait.)

Give yourself a hand, McTosser.

Cast what’s left of your mind back to the last time you waited fifteen minutes for a traffic light to change, only for the driver in front of you to take so long to wake up enough to notice that the green light is pointing in their direction, interpret this as an instruction to go forward, and manoeuvre their gears appropriately, that the light has already changed back to red by the time they turn the corner. This despite the fact that theirs was the only other vehicle on the road, and that they were turning left. (They, of course, will have managed to drag their useless sodding remains across the intersection, all right, but fuck you if you think you’d be as lucky as to be able to do the same. Oh no, you’re much more likely to wait another hour in traffic, waiting for the rest of the cunts on the road to figure out that, Jesus, you’re actually supposed to move forward at some point during the whole procedure. Or as my blind acquaintances liked to joke, before I got bored of their whole not-being-able-to-see business and stopped speaking to them altogether: “Don’t just do something, stand there!”)

Alternatively, imagine standing in line at the traffic department, or the post office, or your insurance company, or the bank, or any other place where bureaucrats thrive, waiting in a queue that is eight people, three metres, and six hours long. Imagine being patient enough to await your turn, only to have the fat, recalcitrant ’crat put an “Out to Lunch” sign in the window when you reach the end of the queue. Can you imagine that? Because I can’t. By the time I’ve waited more than 15 minutes, that’s when the killing starts. And it wouldn’t start with the uncaring official who frustrates my plans, oh no – it would start with the jerk-offs in the queue ahead of me. Because if they’d left within five minutes of not being helped, or if they’d punched that fat cunt in the face already, then this queue would never have got this long. Their unadulterated selfishness is stealing hours – nay, days, weeks, years – from my life, and they deserve to have vengeance wreaked upon them. Then we can deal with that clerk.

If you’re not angry, you’re not paying attention.

Now, commentators have speculated for some time now about why South Africans are so prone to violence. Much electronic ink has been wasted in the pursuit of an explanation, dear reader, and nothing useful has come of it – until now. You see, dear readers, I have formed a theory, which I subsequently tested using what seemed to me a representative sample group (consisting, basically, of myself, and whoever is in my car at the time), and which I believe to have proven beyond any speculation of doubt to be completely, absolutely, and fundamentally correct. I believe that the reason South Africans are so uptight is because they have to be so goddamn patient all the time. And we’re not talking about the run-of-the-mill patience needed to put up with pedestrians or other drivers. We’re talking about the endemic, big-league patience of plague proportions. We’re talking patience with badly-run corporations, and even-more-badly-run government, and mendicants of various stripes. Patience with power-cuts, and exorbitant inflation, and, frankly, bad service-delivery all round.

Don’t believe me? Patient people are to blame for the fact that no-one’s discovered a cure for cancer, or redesigned the frankly insane Cape Town traffic flow, or blown up Parliament. Whoever came up with the idea of a queue, for example, was almost certainly a patience person. After all, what’s better: improving service efficiency so that no-one has to wait, or to expedite the waiting process because you’re too fucking simple to invent a better wheel? No. Patience licks the hand of the man who pats you on the head and says, “It’s going to get better, promise”, before he fucks you up the ass with a brick wrapped in barbed wire. Yes, it will be better. It will be better when you’re dead. That’s because patient people believe that the universe will get better all by itself, and that all they need to do to bring about Valhalla is to sit back, relax, and hang around for a few millennia. That’s why they habitually look like coma patients; their long years spent practicing indifference has left them completely comatose. Appropriately enough, they haven’t even had the wherewithal to come up with something original, because their system of belief was given a name, almost two centuries ago, namely meliorism. This is the belief that the world is continually, inevitably progressing towards its ideal state – almost like the whole Marxist dialectic thing, where everything inevitably works towards ensuring that this shoddy, malformed abortion of a planet will naturally develop into the best of all possible worlds. That means that these people seriously believe that regardless of what we do, everything is always getting better, of its own accord, and with no help from us. Oh, we can make things better, alright; but don’t worry about it too much, because we wouldn’t want to get upset about the shit we see around us.

Im-patience - the album

Im-patience - the album

Get up off the couch already, you pathetic fuck.

You seriously think any of those people would be where they are if they had less patience? Highly dubious, if you ask me. Patient people are just lazy, and they have no ambition. Patience is the greatest stumbling block on the road to progress, my friends, because as long as you’re willing to wait for someone else to solve your problems, nothing will change. And don’t try defending them, because that would just mean that you’re as feeble as they are. Unless you’re dead, you shouldn’t hold out much hope that anyone would be patient with your decision to wait until the truth of the situation miraculously reveals itself to you, because the rest of us fully expect you to use your fucking brain to figure some shit out for yourself. Christ, even if you are dead, I wouldn’t bet on getting much pity from my side. I said you were pitiful, not pitiable.

Myself, I say: fuck patience. You wanna be patient, you’re gonna end up in hospital, and even Dr House won’t be able to cure you. So the next time you’re sitting there, wondering when life will begin to make sense again, make the right choice. Don’t be a wanker – give up on patience, and stop being so fucking pathetic already. You’re boring the shit out of the rest of us.

[Originally posted on, Tuesday, March 18, 2008.]


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