Why do you think they call us “Fighting Irish?”

  First of all, if you subscribe to the Feedburner feed, I know it sent you a post from the other blog yesterday, and I'm sorry.  I told it not to, ok?    Sometimes Feedburner just has a mind of its own, and what the hell?   Maybe that post reminded you to sign up for a Health Savings Account at work.  So, no need to email me.

This hilarious photo is of Shane McGowan from The Pogues, who I think might go down in history as being the Ugliest Person Alive.  He has no teeth because of drugs, and he doesn't care.   Having no teeth and being so ugly makes it easier for him to just go ahead and be a junkie, perhaps.  And, in case you're thinking this– yes, I believe this is what Pete Doherty from Babyshambles is going to look like in ten years.  Or maybe Amy Winehouse.

Anyhoo, I included this picture because sometimes, this is what my surly Irish temper feels like, and I am compelled to yell at total strangers.  You see, despite constant evidence to the contrary, I am an ardent believer in the continued civility of human beings, and
since I couple this belief with a "change starts with you" mentality, I am often
the one who will take action when other people are scratching their heads or
trying to just learn to live with the problem, or burying their head in the
sand.  To me, there is nothing sicker than looking the other way when you could
make a difference by doing or saying something, and I am 100 percent sure that
not talking about the problem is not going to make it go away, and I don't care
if this makes me unpopular.    I would give you some examples of societies and
situations that fell into disarray because of people"s general unwillingness to
leave their comfort zones and speak up, but I am sure you can fill in the blanks
for yourself.  Maybe you'll disagree and if you do that's totally fine, but I
actually think there's a rather short distance between general civil disregard
and all-out anarchy.  So, let's just start there.

You might have already
come to the conclusion that this has gotten me labeled a "total bitch" on more
than one occasion, which I'm fine with.   Because I have no problem telling a
customer service person "You need to be nicer," or yelling at a guy who is
letting his dog do the poop and run in front of my building, or telling people
point-blank that they are talking way too loud on their cellphones, and that
they should not be discussing confidential legal cases or their uncle's
colonoscopy while they're in public places like the Acela train or the post
office.   I will also yell at a person who lets their off-leash dog run up to my
dog on the street (though, let's be honest, my yelling is going to be nothing
compared to the pain and regret that idiot is going to feel when their poor dog
is run over by a car on my busy Brentwood street, or bites a child, or kills
another dog.  Not even close).

My single-handed effort to hold
the fabric of society together can often also be observed in crosswalks, where I
have no problem yelling at people or kicking their bumpers when they roll
through and almost run over me and my dog.  You see, there are a lot of rude
people in L.A, and if someone doesn't say something to them, one day something
worse might happen, or at least this is what I'm thinking when the yelling starts.  

Here's a good example– I was out walking the dog one night and
seriously came withing two inches of getting hit by a woman in a minivan who was
not looking at all as she pulled around the corner.  Because I was close enough to be able to slap the side of her car,
I did, so she pulled over to see if she hit me, at which time I wrote her
license number down and told her I was going home to call the police and report
her as an unsafe driver.  Was I yelling during this time?  Yes, I was.

You're rolling your eyes now and thinking I
should lighten up, but guess what?  She started crying, and told me that she
needed to do something, because her husband had Alzheimer's and she couldn't see
and wasn't supposed to drive at night, and that she'd almost lost her license
before, and that she actually was afraid that she was going to hit someone.   I
don't know if she  got someone to help her after this, but I like to imagine
that almost hitting me and my subsequent yelling was just the impetus she needed to finally arrange for
some alternate transportation, but this is my point– what if I didn't yell at her and push her out of her comfort zone, and the next time she hit a kid?  I take laws and
stuff really seriously, because they are what hold society together, and when
people get lazy and complacent, it makes me upset.  Not because it's bothering
me personally, but because I honestly believe that if we don't take it upon
ourselves to be our best, eventually, as Schopenhauer pointed out, we will start
to descend back into being animals.  Because really, what is a red light but a
mere box with a light in it, unless we all agree to stop when we see
it? 

Maybe it amuses you to consider the mental picture of me
yelling at an a-hole fratboy while he is talking on a cellphone and his dog is
pooping and he clearly has no bag and no intention of picking it up.  And maybe
my making you laugh will have helped the world in a whole different way.  Who knows?  I just want people to stop almost running me over and letting their dogs crap in front of my building.  Is that too much to ask? 

I also would like to take this moment to mention that, just one month ago, my father and I had a conversation where we discussed how much we like calling bullshit on lazy people. 

• Category: I Will For Sure Be Getting Complaints About This