Well, since today was Election Day, I had class off, so I actually got
to spend some time with my family. The main thing I got out of it
was a reminder of why I don't spend more time with my family, but
there's more to it, which I'll detail below.
For some reason, everybody in my family feels compelled to constantly
point out what a totally fucked-up person I am; a genetic curse, no
doubt. The interesting thing is that the specific REASONS for this
differ between each person.
Brian, my 12-year-old younger brother, expressed the opinion that
my life was highly incomplete because I had never been in a knife
fight. He went on to enthusiastically detail his own knife fights,
and the astonishing fact that he had won both of them. He further waxed
euphorically about sodomizing a cat with a marker. I'm sure I don't need
to tell you that I don't quite agree with his assessment.
Paul, my 18-year-old younger brother, of course had a much more
mature outlook on all this. He believes I am the most fucked-up
person in the world because I'm 20 years old and I (gasp!) have
NEVER BEEN LAID. I tried offering the NENSLO defense, to wit,
"Hitler never got laid either", but it didn't exactly hold water with
him. Perhaps he's more with-it than I give him credit for. To those
of you on alt.slack, this may seem to be an incredibly prescient
and canny response, especially considering that its similarity to my
recent laments on alt.slack are purely of a synchronous nature (he's
not allowed to use the modem ever since the Alan Keyes thing). However,
I beg to differ. I'm sure most of us here are in agreement that sex
is great. However, I think it's definitely possible for a 20 year old
guy to be happy and well-adjusted without having sex, and that Paul's
view is just as much influenced by his skewed hormones as Brian's
view is influenced by his hormones. Don't get me wrong- hormones
are GREAT. I LOVE hormones. But when you take hormones as the
only important thing, you wind up in bed hung over with some chick
you just met and don't even particularly like. Would that really make
My mom, in her late '40s, believes that the source of my problems is
that I don't believe in God. Of course, I do, but when I try and tell
her that, she just asks why I don't go to CHURCH. Furthermore, when
I explain to her that I don't believe in the existence of an omnipotent,
omnibenevolent being, she draws the conclusion that I'm an atheist.
So, there you have it. Three different stages of life, three different
reasons on WHY I AM MESSED UP. Oh, I almost forgot, there's Bill.
He's the sane one in the family, 15 years old. He doesn't exactly
think I'm the greatest guy in the world, but he's too busy living his
OWN life to worry at great length about what's wrong with me. Which is,
of course, why he's the sane one in the family. God bless him.
GOD IS NOT MOCKED