Mad As Hell And Not Going To Take It Anymore

Some of you "old timers," like me, may recognize the title and the attached scene from the 1976 movie called "Network." I had not seen it since I watched the film originally all those many years ago, but I have been "feeling" it for a while now. It has, in fact, been festering below the surface for several months and has now bubbled to the surface and shall now unleash itself in a good old fashioned "rant." So, grab hold of your panties, Granny, I'm gonna let loose.

Let's start with the video and Peter Finch's classic scene:



It's amazing how so many of the "issues" of the day in 1976 are still evident...if not more prominent...today. He talks about things being "bad," about being in the midst of a depression, everybody's out of work, banks are going bust, shopkeepers keep a gun under the counter for protection, punks are running wild in the street, violence is rampant, everything is crazy and people are afraid to go out anymore. Sound familiar? Thirty-four years and not a lot has changed.

I hate to say it, but I have slowly morphed into that person he describes. The one who doesn't go out anymore, preferring instead the sanctuary of her living room and just wants to be left alone. The main difference is, I'm not truly "afraid" to go out, it's that every time I do venture out, I invariably encounter some obnoxious asshole whose sole purpose in life...it would seem...is to steal my joy.

My most recent example occurred the Sunday after Christmas. My friend Ralph and my godson, Nathaniel, came down to spend the day with me, and we ended up at a sports bar to eat and drink and watch the Bengals/Chiefs game. Before I go on, let me explain one thing: I have a very simple code or creed by which I live and that is, "live and let live." I don't want to hurt or be a bother to anyone and conversely, I expect the same consideration from my fellow man/woman in return.

Back to my story. Half time arrived, and I took advantage of the break to make a badly needed trip to the powder room. When I was ready to go back to the table, I opened the door and stepped out into the hallway. There were a couple of men standing outside the men's room next door, but I didn't really pay that much attention to them. I had started down the hallway...when it happened. I mean, I'm minding my own business...not bothering anyone...when one of the men yells down the hall to a man in front of me, "Hey, Mark. Not her."

Now, I have no way of knowing what these guys had been talking about before I emerged from the restroom, but whatever it was, obviously I was not the "vision" they had anticipated exiting the little girl's room. Okay, no problem, as I recall they did not exactly get my juices flowing either...if you know what I mean. But the guy did not have to "bellow" his disappointment down the hall...like I was deaf, you know? I can still hear the disdain in his voice.

And that was my moment. The moment I decided, "I'm as mad as hell and I'm not going to take this anymore." So, I stopped dead in my tracks, turned around, looked the shallow bastard in the eye, said,
"F--k you," then turned back around and found my way back to my table. One of these days, I'm going to end up dead, but I don't care. I hate RUDE. There is no excuse for it.

Roseanne was right, you know? The most memorable line from that show for me came in the fifth season when Roseanne confronts Fisher, Jackie's soon-to-be ex-boyfriend (he beat her up), and says to him, "I consider myself to be a good judge of people, and that's why I don't like none of 'em." I hear ya, Roseanne.

Anyway, so as each day, week, month goes by, I find myself becoming more and more reclusive. I go to work and I come home. I order a lot of stuff through QVC, eBay, and Amazon.com, so I don't have to go shopping unless I want to. Actually, I rather enjoy the fact that I can order things via the Internet and a few days later they are delivered to my door. I do make the occasional trip to the grocery store and drug store, etc. But by and large, I am content to stay home. I have an iPod, a Blackberry, two TVs, four -- yes, I said four -- computers, and myriad books and DVDs to keep me entertained. I keep in touch with family and friends via emails and long telephone conversations, and I have my blog.

I have made some wonderful friends through blogging, but...as with everything else...there is always someone out there determined to steal my joy...if I let them. For example, this past Thursday, I received an "anonymous" comment from someone. It started out nice enough, I suppose, as the "person" told me my blog just kept getting better and better and then went on to say...wait for it...my older posts were not as good as the newer ones. Talk about your backhanded compliment. LOL Isn't that rather like saying to someone that their children are well-behaved...it's a shame they're so ugly.

Anyway, I deleted the comment. So sue me, I took offense. The result? Well, the next day, "anonymous" sent me another comment...a link to a porno site. (Now that's a mature reaction, don't you think?) At least that is what the message said...I didn't check it out...I merely deleted it. And that, my friends, is the beauty of being the sole moderator of one's blog, one does not have to endure crap from anonymous trolls. Nor do I have to suffer fools gladly, which leads me to my next soul-sucking, aggravating experience.

On Saturday, I received a comment on the previous post entitled "Bengals and SVU" from a new blogger. I had noticed this person's comments on some of the Vincent D'Onofrio blogs I visit, so I thought this would be nice...a new visitor to get to know. Boy, was I wrong. She began by "trash-talking" my Bengals, which I could understand had I said unkind, nasty things about the Jets and the game that was to be played that afternoon...which I didn't. In fact, if you read the post, I was critical of the Bengals myself...which I'm allowed to do. They're my team, but you don't get to come into my house, bitch, and bad mouth my boys without provocation. Get it? She did go on to say, no hard feelings, but guess what? I've got me some. So, that was strike one. But, hey, no hard feelings, right?

Then she went on to say (copied and pasted from her actual email), "As for L&O -- SVU was the first spinoff by Wolf. Then came CI. Now I love CI (which to me is Vincent & Kate - they made the show) until I die, but I get ticked-off when I hear people say they don't like SVU or the characters - especially Benson or Stabler. I like both characters and actors. I like Chris and Mariska. It not their fault what is happening to CI. They have nothing to do with what the networks are doing to Vincent and Katherine. I wish the fans would understand that; and stop equating what happens with CI has anthing to do with SVU. Please comment-anybody." Strike two. (It should be noted that this person does get full marks for at least using her "name.")

Well, obviously, I didn't "publish" this one either, so people didn't get a chance to comment, but the more I thought about it, the angrier I became. So, I had to get all this out of my system the only way I know how...write about it. But I have one more thing to say before I wrap this up. I made a visit to this person's brand spanking new blog and I came away confused; after castigating me and my visitors for not liking/watching SVU or taking umbrage with NBC for the way LOCI was treated, she has done an about-face and is now questioning the hefty salaries paid to the SVU stars vs. the LOCI stars. Hmm? Shaking my head here; did I miss something? Flip-flop much? And that is strike three.

You know, as much as I love the Internet and all the positive things it has brought into my life, it does have its drawbacks. One of those being the fact that it provides a venue for people to say rude and thoughtless things to others that they -- in all likelihood -- would not have the guts to say in a face to face confrontation.

Needless to say, I have enabled the comment moderation feature. I just cannot stand to be bothered again with trolls and idiots and assholes. (Those emails will be immediately deleted henceforth without being read. I love the delete button.) Now, the last time this happened, I disabled comments for more than a year, and I don't want to do that again because there are a few of you who do drop by now and again and leave comments. That is not to say that I expect everyone to agree with the statements I make. I figure we're all -- well, most of us -- adult enough to state our opinions without attacking each other; i.e., respectfully disagree.

Now, if anyone else is as fed up as I am with something in particular or life in general, don't be afraid to go to your window, fling it open and yell at the top of your lungs, "I'm as mad as hell, and I'm not going to take this anymore!" Go ahead, I dare ya.

YouTube video by conserv8.