Breakfast With Some Hummer Owners
Man: Twitter isn’t all I’d hoped it would be. Nor is the internet. I wasn’t all that impressed with the Library of Congress, Paris in the Spring or the animals of the African Savannah. I think the splendours of The American West are over-rated. I didn’t feel the awe I was promised I would in Machu Picchu because it’s too hot down there and the authorities haven’t provided enough concession booths. Europe’s greatest Cathedrals were a disappointment because it was chilly out, which nobody had thought to tell me, ruining that whole expensive vacation. That Mozart dude, in my humble opinion, was just a noise-maker, an amateur. And, I fully expect the new iPhone to be crap.
Woman: Oh sweetie! Poor you!
Man: It has all left me feeling archly superior towards my fellow man. My doctor told me yesterday she thinks I have “Appreciation Deficit Disorder with features of Inflated Expectations Syndrome” brought on by a privileged life of instant-gratification in which I am bombarded by impossibly idealised images and of a sense of my own entitlement to have other people exceed my every possible demand. Which means it’s all other people’s fault.
Woman: Oh dear. I mean, is that bad? The doctor’s right, you musn’t assume any personal responsibility for this. I expect it’s your parents’ fault and the fact that your brothers all earn more than you. You can hardly be blamed for your own outlook on life in the current social climate. And besides, a vocal demand for excellence in all things is just the sign of a super-discerning personality. Introspection shows insecurity, middle-management’s taught us that, if nothing else. You musn’t beat yourself up for your attitudes, sweetie! Easy self-indulgence is our right as citizens!
Man: That’s what I thought, but apparantly it’s leading to inflammation of the scorn and supercilious glands filling me with an overwhelming sense of disappointment with everyone and everything and the doctor says it’s turning me into an Asshole. It’s a common enough condition, she tells me, mostly affecting the people who were most charmed by the banal narcissm of the L’Oreal ad for hair colour declaring “Because I’m worth it!”
Woman: Darling!
Man: I knew you’d understand but I can’t help wishing you were prettier and that our children were more easily categorised as The Cute One, The Smart One and The Funny One.
Woman: But what has she prescribed you?
Man: Talk therapy at dinner parties.
Woman: Of course. You must purge yourself of these feelings in long, rambling monologues at table with people who can’t criticise you because it’s your house. I shall arrange to have one immediately. Who would you like to ask?
Man: I don’t know. I despise almost everyone except myself and the children and occasionally you. They probably should earn less than me though. I feel like impressing someone with smug humility. Oh and I want you to have the caterers do a better job of the steaks this time. Now come here and hold me. I have a need to cry that I don’t understand and an awful revelation about myself is beginning to moulder greenly at the edges of my mind. I would rather not pay these things any attention, but rather lose myself in a fog of willful misunderstanding.
Woman (softly): Oh, baby.
June 27th, 2008 at 8:23 am
You know, dear, were it not for the fact that such people do exist, this would be amusing. It’s very good, mind you, just more of a realistic portrayal of the modern world, as opposed to parody.
Made me smile, nonetheless.
Cheers.
June 27th, 2008 at 9:31 am
They really do exist!
Overheard on holiday in Rome: ‘Of course, the architecture in Paris is sooooooo disappointing, highly over-rated…’
June 27th, 2008 at 9:51 am
I was laughing happily along at this till I realised my 3 children actually are a Smart One, A Funny One and a Cute One.
So true, though.
June 27th, 2008 at 9:51 am
When I was young and innocent and a Psychology major I?d read the DSM3 (diagnostic and statistical manual of Mental Disorders 3rd edition revised) and every one of the diagnoses would seem to be referring to me? I had missed this disorder however; it must be in the newest 22nd edition revised, edited, and appended for the lay person, and realize that I must investigate it further as I see how this could be very indicative of my psychic state. Could it be- have I found the Holy Grail that will finally express me better then I express myself! I like dinner parties?But, do I have to invite all my multiple personalities or can I choose the less able ones? Arnold with the tick disorder…Cherry the nymphomaniac and her friend Fetish…will take some thought as to who sits next to who…
June 27th, 2008 at 10:01 am
Oh baby, indeed. Is the supercillious one of the adrenals?
I wonder what a foghorn sounds like in the middle of a fog of willful misunderstanding.
June 27th, 2008 at 11:09 am
Rand, I just wonder if they’ve always existed or if modern consumer entitlement brings out the worst in people.
Jen, even if they had liked the architecture, something else would have been wrong – a stone in the shoe, a breeze that messed their hair, having to stand in a queue for anything. Some people want total perfection and if the tiniest thing is wrong, that is what they’ll focus on, rather than all the cools stuff around them.
Tinman18, for this couple, the cute one will never be as cute as they want, the clever one as clever or the funny one as funny. They don’t want real children, they want little personal reflectors of their own discernment and good-judgment.
Jeremy, you won’t find the Holy Grail here, toots. In these pages you’re more likely to find the holy pail. The logic is less divine and more “There’s a hole in my bucket, dear Liza, dear Liza.”
Conan, it sounds like Naomi Campbell.
June 27th, 2008 at 11:30 am
I want you to know how that post made me feel, so I’ve hired someone to tell you.
June 27th, 2008 at 11:34 am
Did you write that, sam (if I may?) – excellent! What w all need is a good recession…
June 27th, 2008 at 11:42 am
Bock, I’m hiring someone to listen as we speak. Is it OK if she’s 6?
Jo, back to the 80’s, right? I loved that picture of you in your wellies that you linked to at 20s. Smashing. We all looked like that back then, didn’t we? Nobody’s mother dressed them up in coordinates to play in the mud.
June 27th, 2008 at 11:44 am
Jo, yep, I’m Sam. And you certainly may.
June 27th, 2008 at 1:06 pm
I used to work for a couple like this! They were like some kind of parody of themselves and they didn’t even see it. They would periodically trade in their ridiculous car for an even fancier, more outrageous gas-guzzler. They dropped names and agonized about having the right brand name goods and constantly redecorated. Their kids were sweet, but I’m sure they were eventually ruined.
And there’s nothing you can do for inflammation of the supercilious gland — nothing at all. The doctor’s diagnosis is spot on.
June 27th, 2008 at 1:07 pm
I used to work for a couple like this! They were like some kind of parody of themselves and they didn’t even see it. They would periodically trade in their ridiculous car for an even fancier, more outrageous gas-guzzler. They dropped names and agonized about having the right brand name goods and constantly redecorated. Their kids were sweet, but I’m sure they were eventually ruined.
And there’s nothing you can do for inflammation of the supercilious gland — nothing at all. The doctor’s diagnosis is spot on.
Uh oh, Sam — I’m having trouble posting again…
June 27th, 2008 at 1:08 pm
Oh, crap — it does this every time!
June 27th, 2008 at 2:28 pm
I blame the self-help books. They encourage humans to believe they can be anyone and have anything. I just wake up every morning glad not to have been bitten by a snake or sat on by an elephant.
June 27th, 2008 at 2:32 pm
Mary, no! You’re fine, darling! Successfully posted.
Nanas, it’s like everything has to be super-controlled for excellent, but also somehow spontaneous and exciting at the same time. It can’t be done. Nor should it.
June 27th, 2008 at 3:40 pm
Brilliant, Sam.
Something tells me that this couple wouldn’t recognize themselves in the dialogue.
I know these people!
They’re boring as shit.
June 27th, 2008 at 4:51 pm
Oh fuck.
June 27th, 2008 at 4:53 pm
Medbh ~ she’s OK.
June 27th, 2008 at 7:14 pm
Oh THOSE people. The only reason you invite them over is because you get to throw things at them.
June 27th, 2008 at 8:39 pm
“turning him into” an asshole?
Oh no. No no no.
Some people were just born with the asshole gene. There’s just no test for it yet.
June 27th, 2008 at 9:01 pm
This is what happens when little Bradys become big Bradys *He says cryptically*
June 27th, 2008 at 9:56 pm
OH I am being moderated. Never been moderated before, and I didn’t even swear.
June 28th, 2008 at 1:55 am
I’m so glad Hummers don’t fit on European roads.
June 28th, 2008 at 3:24 am
It’s gratifying that my domestic conversations are worth recording on this blog. But “moulder greenly at the edges of my mind” is inaccurate, although original; it’s more “corrode like iron splinters in my heart”.
June 28th, 2008 at 4:43 am
Excellent PCB.
I come across these assholes every day. I make a point of making things difficult for them where possible. Never let an SUV out of a junction, never help them if they don’t say please or thank you. Say “Yes I do mind” when asked if they can skip past you because they only have one item and you have a full trolley.
June 28th, 2008 at 6:47 am
The Hummer designed as it was to replace the Jeep. A thing that killed more than any one single bit of kit supplied including all firearms. They had this habit of braking bits off the steering gear at speed causing the front wheels to turn 90 flipping it like a well turned pancake. Anyhoos, wondering I was Yoda like, would your story transfer to this side of the Atlantic and to the Landrover. And having tested the theory to destruction and a hole in stubble, find no not really. But boy o boy does it fit for the Rangerover.
June 28th, 2008 at 7:27 am
Bit commentose these days. Sam, you?re allowed look people straight in the eye and tell them go fuck themselves. What you got to loose, their friendship?
June 28th, 2008 at 8:25 am
There’s a good few of those stupid Hummers here in Ireland, all left hand drive so even more dangerous to drive than in the US, especially the stretch limos. Anyway, I read recently that they are not going to make them anymore, cost of fuel etc. Woohoo!
June 28th, 2008 at 9:03 am
I find a surprising number of people like this who are on slightly lower incomes and can’t afford the dinner parties, blog instead
June 28th, 2008 at 11:26 am
Medbh, it wasn’t about anyone in particular, just an amalgam of the annoying things you hear more and more.
Eryl, eh?
LaughyKate, I throw dark looks.
Mom101, you’re right, of course. I think that certain environments can be triggers though. Being in a Hummer is one such environment.
Primal, like the Bunch?
laughyKate, did you use a different email address? Sometimes that can cause you to be remoderated. Which sounds horribly Orwellian.
Caro, I love these little half cars they have in Europe whose length is the same width as regular cars so they can just nip into the tiniest of parking spots without any parallel parking.
Inkspot, hmm. Sounds like you need a tetanus. I hope you hadn’t planned on sitting down much this week.
Holemaster, I was reading a website where people took urban revenge of that sort. If supermarkets were abandoned, blocking aisles while their owners went off to fetch something else, the urban avengers would hide self-warming lubrication gel or jumbo size tubes of Preparation H in their trolleys. Lots of fun with priests and ministers at the checkout, I bet.
VincentH, Landrover drivers are often sexy with strong hairy forearms, and I am in favour of them whatever their carbon footprint might be. Rovers of the range often have no more range to drive over than their driveways making you wonder why they plumped for such an obnoxious vehicle. I amn’t in favour of them. But it really depends on their forearms.
Sniffle, I force myself to be content with kicking them in their noses.
Holemaster, Hummer limos are obnoxious. About 3 miles to the gallon or something ridiculous. How much contempt can you show for your fellow man than to haul your ass around in such a thirsty muck-spreader as that?
Kim, I think you’re right about that, Kim.
June 28th, 2008 at 2:43 pm
I’m tempted to just say linger again. To the couple. Only somewhere between solemnly and resignedly this time.
June 28th, 2008 at 2:57 pm
In a bit of a funny mood here myself, today, Eolai, hun.
June 29th, 2008 at 12:40 am
But I need a Hummer; only their seats are comfy enough for after my tetanus shot. And my forearms are too exquisite (all right, girly) for a Land-Rover.
June 29th, 2008 at 2:10 am
I’ve read and re-read this post Sam, looking for the joke.
By the way, Hummer limos are great! I saw a very butch one on the M8 filled with small boys hanging out the window having a party and it cheered me up for the rest of the day. They were having the best possible time of it.
June 29th, 2008 at 5:16 am
sadly, you just described members of my husband’s family. now you know my pain!
June 29th, 2008 at 9:13 am
My God, I know so many of those people and am forced to interact with them at least twice a year. Ghastly. But funny when not I’m not dealing with them, if you know what I mean and I know that you do because you’re clever that way.
June 29th, 2008 at 12:17 pm
Inkspot, do you have a blog I might visit, at all, girly forearms notwithstanding? Also can I ask if you’re British or Irish? I’ve seen you over at Nana’s, is all. Feel crazily free to ignore my impertinence if that’s your inclination. Just curious.
Docs, small boys would probably have had an equal hoot hanging off the back of a tractor or an ice-cream van. The M8 is hardly a rutted road in a war-torn region, if you don’t count Glasgow and Edinburper hostilities.
Savannah, whiney blowhards are widely but evenly scattered across the North, South, East, West, young, old, male, female, black, white, brown and pink people, and Republican and Democrat alike. There seems to be way no way to herd them and force them to talk to one another for punishment.
fatmammycat, it’s necessary to mingle in their number briefly if only to appreciate the rest of the year more.
June 29th, 2008 at 4:02 pm
I’ve come back just to read this again and all the comments. How right you are about whiney blowhards. I’m glad they’re in this world, though. They make me feel so good about being me.
June 29th, 2008 at 4:13 pm
Mary, I don’t really mind whining if it is a wee bit imaginative or if it seems to be a genuine observation. More often than not though people are just aping what they’ve heard people who impress them say – with the same bloody words and phrases. It’s inexcusable to ask other people – especially friends – to listen to that, especially when the whole point of the complaining is designed to point out to you just how discerning, urbane and sophisticated they are.
It’s just posturing. Posturing, posturing everywhere, nor any drop to drink. I’ll fix the last part this evening, with luck!
June 29th, 2008 at 5:37 pm
So, just like blogging, the posturing thing. I knew I’d figure out this post eventually.
June 30th, 2008 at 2:14 pm
But the tractor, milk-float or rag-and-bone man’s cart would not have cheered Dr. Maroon as much as did the Hummer; that was, maybe, a part of his point.
(Euclid denied the divisibility of a point, but axioms should not be taken too seriously.)
No blog, but I share geographical tendencies with you and the good doctor. And I like the word “but”, and starting sentences with conjunctions. Correct punctuation is also important, which is one reason why your blog is so pleasing.
Actually, maybe a rag-and-bone man’s cart on the M8 would have cheered Dr. Maroon. But we cannot know unless he tells us.
July 1st, 2008 at 5:46 am
please tell me the badges arrived? eh?
July 1st, 2008 at 8:02 am
But not everything lives up to its blurb and there has been the odd occasion when one has been disappointed and I’m buggered if I’ll do an emperor’s clothes just to go with the flow. Or have I missed the point? I’m not always an asshole.
Welcome home Sam. It’s lovely to have you back:)