Consider the title above, and I bet you’ll be all completely prejudiced and believe that "here Sigg3 goes again, another rant about Sigg3 by Sigg3" and I’ll just laugh in your face and smear it with donkey dung. ‘Cause you’ll be wrong. Of course you could argue that I am in fact writing about myself indirectly, but Freud would think I’m writing about my mother and Kevin Smith about his self-obsessed and overweight ass. You could probably argue that I’m writing about Jurassic Park again. But I am not. I’m writing about the single smart-ass that always need to establish herself in the office.
It’s a she in my case, but it could just as well be a he or an it. It doesn’t matter. Smugness is biologically indiscriminate and usually hits randomly below a certain IQ threshold. First story first. Let’s go back to the bird flu. Remember the bird flu? It was nearly the end of the world back then, way before the swine flu, and people were hysterical about birds. Old ladies were spreading their breadcrumbs with cyanide in the city parks, and people called the emergency telephone whenever they saw a dead bird.. of which there are so many. I remember having seen 3 DEAD PIGEONS outside a kebab place where I used to live, and people went all frantic about it and the police arrived to shut down the area. Until someone pointed out the kebab place and everyone went back to their business.
Back then I wrote a funny office e-mail (yes, I’m one of those guys) about the bird flu, and how we should just avoid everything with a beak. There was also a call for a flu shot for the seasonal flu, to which I replied to-all: "This is not the bird flu vaccine. For safety reasons, they will only test that on people from Bergen." Which was a statement of fact and very funny indeed and then this lady queuing up with me at the cafeteria went all serious and said: "You shouldn’t be joking about the bird flu. It’s in Sweden now and it could get here too." Right, I thought to myself, she’s taking this way too seriously. She’s taking it literally. And I didn’t think much of it.
Come this week and I wrote this notice for everyone to read:
Please don’t hang around the entrance/near the walls outside because the sun makes the icicles fall down at lethal velocities. The technical adviser (read: janitor) is on the case!
Dying from falling ice is just plain stupid. There are so many other fun things to die from, like killer whales. Then maybe it’s fate. Do you really wanna tempt fate? DO YOU?!!
The reason I put this up was because the sun had suddenly decided to show up and make a fuss, so all the ice which had accumulated over the past 2 months of freezing cold weather started to melt and MOVE AROUND. In general it moves downwards & v rapidly. Having a cigarette outside I was hit in the shoulder, and though many think I’ve got my head up my ass I usually keep it between my shoulders; Big piece of falling ice in the head will render you either dead or incapacitated. It’s the only explanation for George W. except inbreeding.
It went well and the janitor managed to remove the worst of it and it was time for lunch. I just had to check my e-mail first and what do you know? I’d had a letter from her. She wrote something along the lines of: "FYI. A man was found unconscious yesterday by his wife from snow falling three stories above. They’re not sure what happened to him, if he survived."
I couldn’t believe it. Here’s someone that thinks contending that dying from ice is plain stupid warrants a warning that same actually happens in the world. And that I should somehow feel guilty about writing a funny post about it. Did I say that the victim(s) were stupid, that the sun or the icicles were stupid? No. Not at all. I said that dying from falling icicle is stupid from which you can draw that it is a really, really unnecessary end of someone’s life. In sum, a serious warning.
Agh, these kinds of people just gets on my nerve! I took a deep breath and replied right away: "Case in point. It’s just too silly to die from poor maintenance." to which she replied again: "Well, it happens often." And that’s all she wrote. I wanted to reply but I didn’t. Leave it there, be professional. But I really wanted just to jot down a little note with nice fonts and flowery backround saying: WHAT THE BLOODY FUCK-A-COW KIND OF SPORT AUTOMOBILE VEHICLE ARE YOU DRIVING, WOMAN!?
Because really! This lady and her likes are so driven up the wall buying into the Mentality of the Important and Serious that they just HAVE TO let the world know about it on all occasions. If something is Important and Serious then you better treat it as such or not at all. In fact, if something is Important and Serious then it is probably best to leave it to Other and Better People like Anchormen and Politicians and Experts to have a say. Because frankly, it’s so Important and Serious that common folk such as I cannot even begin to fathom the contours of the subject matter. What is she saying to me? She’s saying that I’m a lesser, ignorant peasant who is vulgar and stupid. I might be vulgar inasmuch as I’d like to call her a fucking cunt, but that doesn’t automatically produce any threat to my intelligence overall. On the contrary.
What is the rest of her life like? Why is she still alive at all? If every goddamn thing is so effin’ Important and Serious that nobody should touch it she’s barely sustaining a minimum existence, forget about being happy about anything at all. I bet she isn’t into SM and bondage but I think she really should, because it would satisfy her complete subordination with regards to the Important and Serious DICK she is gonna get from the rest of the world. Because you know what? We don’t give a fuck. The selective experience of the being-in-the-world (dasein) is what keeps dasein from losing his mind. You absolutely should let yourself joke about stuff. It is a tried and tested coping mechanism, which can be mastered and perfected to an art form called humor which will make you socially acceptable to your peers. You’ll be Important and Serious. But you don’t understand that, because you never got the first step. Sorry about that. But you’re left behind. Sit down & STFU.