A Hard Man to Please

No, I am not impressed. Not in the slightest bit. I’m a hard man to please, you see? You can try your best showing off your fancy vacations in faraway destinations and wild drunken night-outs with awesome-looking people, but I am not impressed at all. You think you can get my seal of approval, oral or virtual in the form of a Facebook Like, just because you’re eating a juicy steak in an elite corner of the city I have never been to? You wish! You assume I like your taste in music, movies, or desserts? You presume too much! None of your humanitarian, environmental, or religious efforts make me feel one way or another; and no perfectly framed literary quote makes me wonder. I am not affected, fascinated or dazzled in any way shape or form by your romantic dinners with your partner or cheerful meet-ups with friends. I don’t feel a sliver of envy when you’re climbing mountains, riding zip lines, or scuba diving with dolphins. No eloquently put political opinion sparks my imagination, and all your witty one-liners land with a dull thud in my ears. Because I am the personification of indifference. The Buddha of lukewarm apathy. I am numb. Cold. Hard. To me, your money is as common as dried leaves on the street and your cars are as interesting as bricks off a torn building. You think I’m excited? I am unconcerned and undisturbed. Your hobbies put me in a stable mood of nonchalance incapable of producing any graspable emotion in my countenance. I casually view your activities like I do the pavement. What’s that? Denying that I’m impressed actually confirms that I’m impressed? Preposterous! Is this the same as when a person says he doesn’t care, he most certainly cares? Does that mean that my only recourse to express my uncaring attitude about your life is to stay silent about it forever? Well, that’s never going to be good enough for me! I demand to clarify my unenthusiastic, uninvolved disposition through a lengthy exposition of my neutral feelings about any matter whatsoever involving you. No, I am not impressed. Not in the slightest bit. I’m a hard man to please, you see?

A Guy Who Tried His Best

Have you heard about that guy who tried his best? He had his game face on and brought his A game when D Day arrived. Failure was not an option but he nevertheless put it all on the line. Left no stone unturned and took no prisoners. Word is he put his very soul into it then bet his life when the stakes and the odds against him piled up high. He said shoot for the stars and land on the moon. Screamed never say never and never say die. They told him it’s useless and thought him a fool but he clung to hope and fought a losing battle just the same. Tooth and nail he went down fighting. Have you heard about that guy? That guy’s name was John. In the end, there was a Facebook post about him.

Bother You

So who did you bother today? Did you wake up and bother your roommate or your mother (because you’re still living with her) when you couldn’t find the coffee? Stepped out of the house to step on your sleeping dog, bothered it out of its magical dog dreams, howling, cursing you with its morning dog breath? You probably have one, too, and it’s been bothering people without you knowing for far too long (I mean the dog breath). But that’s ok because bothering is the real relationship mesh that binds society, keeps it doing what it’s supposed to be doing even while it in no way agrees with the terms. Why the biggest bothersome boatload of bull of all is work but you do it anyway since it’s necessary–a truly bothering bit of banal observation right there. And in your free time when your boss isn’t bothering you with business bollocks that you and him honestly do not care about, you, of course, hit Facebook and decide to bother somebody with a little chat truly lacking of purpose or intelligent direction. “What up?” “How are you?” “Hi!” Again–that’s completely ok ’cause the other party totally expects you or someone else bothering her or him that day; give or take a couple of minutes you bothered that person with predictable precision. So enough with the “So sorry to bother you” formality because believe me you’ll be bothering the bugger out of everyone until you can’t be bothered to breathe your last.