I work on a floor in my building with roughly 100 to 125 people of which a good seventy-five percent are men. There seems to be a large proportion of that male population that has an aversion to urinals and instead prefers to do their business in the stalls. More specifically, on the toilet seats that reside in the stalls. I’m not sure if it’s passive aggression or just a bunch of clueless male engineers. Either way, I am now visiting other floors to surf on my phone. Their Delta Tau Chi name is ‘asshat’.
(language alert!) A few weeks ago, I read a great article by Mark Manson called, The Subtle Art of Not Giving a Fuck. The gist of the article is to carefully consider whether an asshat or asshat-situation deserve one of your very valuable fucks. Don’t hand out fucks like they are candy. It is much calmer way of thinking and living your life. Now, when some asshat or asshat situation is about to make my blood pressure leak out of my ears, I look them right in the eye and tell them that they do not deserve one of my fucks. In my head, I say this. It’s very freeing and I highly recommend it.
I drew this back in 2009 right after the last time we endured the national headache that is our Presidential election season. Figured it was a good time to brush off the dust and freshen it up a bit.
Partisan politics gives me a headache. The vitriol. The finger pointing. The ridiculousness that is the extreme fringes of each party (both the Occupiers and the Tea Partiers are a big bunch of asshats).
Colin Cowherd from ESPN Radio said one day recently, “People do not want to be informed. They want to be affirmed.” He is a wise man. No one cares to listen, to compromise, to actually try to solve some problems.
There is little room for us independent centrists and it’s giving me a headache.
My son swims on a team who’s pool is at a local private school. Not all of the patrons of the school are members of the 1% but many are. The rest probably fall into the 2%. Needless to say, I rub elbows with some very entitled, spoiled, “let-them-eat-cake” types. A very big pet-peeve of mine is when people who obviously do not need to, park in handicap spots. This is a daily occurrence at this school. Many times, it is because the rest of the lot is full and the only options are the over-flow lot down the hill or handicap spots (“I can’t walk from down there. These are Prada and there is mud!”). One day, the lot was not even full and particular asshat, driving his nice new Jag, decided he did not want it mingling with the riff raff in regular parking. So, I took a picture.
I then sent that picture to this great website – www.parkingmobility.com. They, in turn, file a report with local law enforcement. I encourage one and all to patronize this wonderful site and download their app to your iPhone or Droid.
I drew this way back when the whole Blogo scandal was new and fresh. Seemed appropriate to dust off in light of current events. Oh, guvna. Make sure you take along a lot of soap-on-a-rope to whichever federal pound-me-in-the-ass prison they send you.
A friend at work offered a book he thought I would like, Shift by Peter Arnell, a big-time marketing guy in NYC. The book is pretty good, it is more about his struggle to go from over 400 pounds down to circa 150 (awesome feat, imho) but throws in some good life and business tidbits, as well.
His grandfather worked the fish markets in New York and would tell him this quite often, sometimes literally in regards to fishing and others, life. It resonated with me as I become more involved in business development in my company. I am trying to find where the fish are biting and then gently nudge management in that direction.
For a brief moment, I considered sending this drawing to Mr. Arnell and sharing what I said above. Then I read some stories that paint him to be an asshat. My fantasy of him loving my work and showering me with praise and being my new best friend melted into cease and desist orders and screaming into phones. Extreme, I know. He comes across as very charming in his book, very likeable, but that is easy to do in a book (or in a blog with stupid drawings) but a real jerk-wad in real life. Granted, the stories were few (and there were a fair share of positive ones) but why open myself up to that. I have enough asshats yelling at me.
What do you think? Share or keep our little secret?
Asshats. Actually, just one asshat; on my last nerve and playing hopscotch!
Let me explain. No, let me sum up… (geeks will get that line)…
Here is an analogy about her asshatedness. Actually, not. I started this post several weeks ago and had started a long diatribe. She’s not worth the time, mine or yours. She’s a bully. Pure and simple. Jenny and I decided long ago that bully’s lack intellect so they use nastiness to get what they want. She does not have the intellect to understand what is going on around her so she is nasty and mean.
And doing the Macarena on my last nerve! Asshat.
Bob Sutton wrote a great book, “The No-Asshole Rule” and writes a great blog called Work Matters.
Today his post entitled Oblivious Rich Assholes, featured someone else’s blog, She’s Lump. Ms. Lump works for a law office in Dallas that is full of oblivious rich assholes. Her post today, There Apparently Isn’t A No Asshole Rule is priceless. In her words,
These attorneys want to know everyone’s business as well as flaunt their own for the whole elevator audience to hear (OK, not all of them are like this). Or maybe they’re just fucking loud.
Loudly trying to ONE UP the other.
One uppers are assholes.
They are also Asshats. The conversation my three Asshats above is based on actual conversations overheard by Ms. Lump. Solid gold golf clubs? Asshat.
Thank you Bob Sutton and Ms. Lump for the inspiration today. You both rock!