I think a common thread in many rants of the “You syphilitic goat-fucker!” variety is that we level our rage against the clueless. Not the legitimately impeded, mind you; we (mostly) understand someone who cannot, through some understandable and unfortunate handicap, understand what’s going on, but for those that seemingly have the ability, but refuse, through simply self-centeredness, from removing their heads from their own rectums long enough to peer around and register that there are other people in the world, and that a modicum of attention devoted to those other people would be useful and appreciated.
It was even so yesterday.
Bricker Jr., like many young boys about to turn four, is a fan of Thomas, the Tank Engine. Thomas is a small train engine who normally lives on the Island of Sodor, interacting with the other train engines there under the benevolent guidance of Sir Topham Hatt.
Imagine our joy when we discovered that Thomas was going to take a brief holiday from his duties on the island and travel here to the United States. Specifically, Strasburg, Pennsylvania. Yes, THE Thomas. An actual steam-powered tank engine. Full-sized. He would be pulling children on a 22-minute adventure filled ride. Naturally, the Bricker family had to attend.
So we arrive, tickets in hand. We wait in a long line. (Since the ride itself lasts 22 minutes, Thomas runs every thirty minutes, from 9:45 AM to 2;15 PM only.) We finally get on board. We take the ride. It’s … well, it’s 11 minutes out, a stop, and 11 minutes back along the same line. For a four year old, who’s riding in a car pulled by Thomas, it’s magic.
Then we get off. And we, like every other parent attending, realize the grand opportunity for a photo shoot… as Thomas departs for his next run, we can snap a picture of our child on the platform, right as Thomas goes by. It’ll capture the awesome life-sized Thomas, and be a memento for the ages.
So dozens of parents lined up their kids, spaced far enough apart that each could get solo pics, as Thomas majestically rolled out of the station.
And damned if Mr. and Mrs. Asshole Oblivious III, along with their kids (who are not included in this Pitting as they were too young to know better) strolled right down the corridor created by the parents/cameras and kids, ruining dozens of camera shots. They were utterly unconcerned with the fact that by walking along directly beside Thomas, they put themselves in front of every parent’s camera at the exact moment the shot was needed.
Didn’t they wonder why, on a day in which crowds were everywhere, they suddenly had a free corridor all to themselves? Did they not grasp that they were the subject of increasingly loud murmers and comments, like “Excuse me!” and “Hey!” and other things not suited to young ears? Is it possible that they simply had tunnel vision? That they didn’t remotely perceive the actions of dozens of people around them?
Or were they simply selfish jerks who didn’t care?
Buttmunches.
