Blog Dis
The Bastards, The Bitches and The Bleeding Hearts
2024-08-15
Talk about a seemingly negative connotation, oh my! Yet, I refer to some of the wonderful populace as not being such a wonderful group of people. You know about whom I speak, as we all do, as we all have experienced these kinds of persons in some shape or form, at some point in your working or personal life. Avoiding the bastards, the bitches and the bleeding hearts is impossible. Most recently, I was reminded of this reality while cycling, kind of like getting smacked in the face by an ice-cold hand.
Take Canada Day, a fine example. After the fireworks, which typically end after 10 PM, I heard roaring drunks throwing glass bottles, yelling like idiots, brimming with excitement, to be free to drink outside w/o worry of being charged. I don't begrudge anyone to imbibe on their off-hours and by their own dollar bcus gosh-darnit their life some day will end, so why begrudge anyone if they enjoy a drink or two, right? Not always, my inebriates. As I cycled on the Canal path the day after our country's national day of celebration, I had to swerve numerous times to avoid cycling over shards of glass. Some think it's amusing to smash bottles to demonstrate their Canadian spirit. This is what I'd classify as a bastard - an outright bastard, to put a finer point on my insult. Many walk with their kids and dogs on this path and the mere thought of some paw being cut up by glass upsets me. I'm not a fan either of puncturing my tires, but it's worse when I think about a dog getting injured; it's not like their paws come with leather shoes or runners outside in summer.
It's not just Canada Day, or the day after our National holiday, but summer in general is like a landmine of glass wherever you walk, on the road, on a shared path, pretty much anywhere near a University there'll be broken bottles spread across the road, waiting for the city sweeper. In all my years of enjoying wine, gin or cold Corona beer, not once have I ever felt inspired or compelled to break a bottle on the street just to be a bastard. I'm open to receiving your explanation, if you've got one handy, to help me fathom this state of mind, other than to categorize it as the utter stupidity of drunkenness. Dumb bastards.
Then there are The Bitches, those we've all endured who absolutely, positively, nearly 100 per cent of the time are bitches because they can be, and sometimes for no valid reason. But, and having said that, sometimes there are valid reasons to be a bitch. And, I shudder to think that I, on occasions, belong in this latter category. I must confess to having behaved in the past like a bitch, tho' never in person to someone's face. For me, it's the quagmire of voice mail that spins off my top, making my head pivot to bitchland. Our chartered banks, which are no different than other multi-billion dollar corporations, are in business to make money off your money. One business practice was implemented 15-20 years ago, and it involves off-shoring customer service to developing countries, to save the banks money, which means to make more money, which means their service has tanked. I lose my cool. I evolve into a bitch like flipping a switch when I attempt to get a simple question answered, which isn't a simple goal. Cyber security these days means that when you call your bank, there are a multitude of voice mail options from which to choose, that begins the cascade of requests vis-à-vis the automated system: input your bank card number, select the option as to the purpose of your call, to be followed by your secret PIN number, and then you just might reach a live body, who'll begin the verification process all over, and who after speaking with you for a minute, will declare, "I'm not able to help you... Can I transfer you to someone who can?" Frustrated, my inner-bitch will reply, "Yes puh-lease!" Then, I have to endure the verification process a the third time, while the long-distance service rep is speaking to me with a time-lag; they speak [pause], after which I answer [pause], they answer my question by acknowledging they didn't quite hear my question, and for me to repeat the question. 🤬
You see how easy it is to become a bitch? When I think of the word bitch, I've re-oriented my internal dialogue to regard 'bitch' as an acronym that means "Being In Total Control [of] Herself." But when dealing with voice mail, a form of artificial intelligence, there is no control, even if you think you're being a bitch. You are their bitch, not the other way around. VOIP, which stands for Voice Over Internet Protocol enables multi-billion dollar corporations to save money by using VOIP to handle customer service calls thru a computer connection, rather than a copper line or by mobile data service.
I realize the world is filled with all kinds of people but the fewer bastards and bitches we have, the better off the whole lot of us will be. So I shall implore the banks to stop what they're doing, and make their banking services less stressful for clients, people like me with a low threshold for voice mail quagmires. Thank you! (Note to banks: I am not your bitch and I don't want to be treated like I am).
Finally, The Bleeding Hearts... persons for whom those in need most assuredly need. Our bleeding hearts remind us that we have hearts, and how beneficial it is for those of us who aren't in positions of need that when we have abundance in our lives, we can afford to share our abundance. However, some bleeding hearts are master manipulators who could make The Pope feel guilty for not being Catholic enough. These individuals burn my goat. They leave thorns in my side when they look on at you w/ disapproval bcus you had deigned to cycle on a stretch of road on the one and only day when cars are forbidden to drive on until Noon. I speak of Colonel By Drive in the city of Ottawa. Taxes levied on Canadians are no laughing matter so I take it personally when this long stretch of road is cut off to the public while a marathon is being held to raise funds for charity. Noble causes are worthy. I give, too, to many causes, some of whom get theirs right off my paycheck before my pay makes it to my pocket. But show some mercy for the residents who are barred from crossing the street to get to their home, while the marathon is in progress (for the entire day). I dole out bills to musicians who play on street corners. But when it comes to marathon races in the core of a city, why not once every other year move the location to another neighbourhood and allow them to rake in some cash? When I give to charities, I don't make it contingent that I'm allowed to prevent people from engaging in other activities that are central to the enjoyment of summer, like cycling, skateboarding, rollerblading, or riding your scooter.
It happened like this... I was forced off the road and onto the shared path. Fair enough. But along came runners in the same race who scolded me for cycling on the path, citing that I had no right to cycle on the shared path because of their charity race. I unloaded an earful, accusing them of hijacking not just the road (two lanes) but also the shared path (with emphasis on the word shared), for an entire weekend, worse if it's a long weekend. Holiday weekends in summer are precious as are sunny days. We can share the road. We can share the shared-path. There's no justification for ordering the public off one shared path, unless their goal is to turn off the public from supporting their event in future. So to these bleeding hearts, kindly be mindful not to push the active public too far.
What more can I say? A lot, knowing me. The three B's... without which where would complaining rank in the world of free speech?
Take Canada Day, a fine example. After the fireworks, which typically end after 10 PM, I heard roaring drunks throwing glass bottles, yelling like idiots, brimming with excitement, to be free to drink outside w/o worry of being charged. I don't begrudge anyone to imbibe on their off-hours and by their own dollar bcus gosh-darnit their life some day will end, so why begrudge anyone if they enjoy a drink or two, right? Not always, my inebriates. As I cycled on the Canal path the day after our country's national day of celebration, I had to swerve numerous times to avoid cycling over shards of glass. Some think it's amusing to smash bottles to demonstrate their Canadian spirit. This is what I'd classify as a bastard - an outright bastard, to put a finer point on my insult. Many walk with their kids and dogs on this path and the mere thought of some paw being cut up by glass upsets me. I'm not a fan either of puncturing my tires, but it's worse when I think about a dog getting injured; it's not like their paws come with leather shoes or runners outside in summer.
It's not just Canada Day, or the day after our National holiday, but summer in general is like a landmine of glass wherever you walk, on the road, on a shared path, pretty much anywhere near a University there'll be broken bottles spread across the road, waiting for the city sweeper. In all my years of enjoying wine, gin or cold Corona beer, not once have I ever felt inspired or compelled to break a bottle on the street just to be a bastard. I'm open to receiving your explanation, if you've got one handy, to help me fathom this state of mind, other than to categorize it as the utter stupidity of drunkenness. Dumb bastards.
Then there are The Bitches, those we've all endured who absolutely, positively, nearly 100 per cent of the time are bitches because they can be, and sometimes for no valid reason. But, and having said that, sometimes there are valid reasons to be a bitch. And, I shudder to think that I, on occasions, belong in this latter category. I must confess to having behaved in the past like a bitch, tho' never in person to someone's face. For me, it's the quagmire of voice mail that spins off my top, making my head pivot to bitchland. Our chartered banks, which are no different than other multi-billion dollar corporations, are in business to make money off your money. One business practice was implemented 15-20 years ago, and it involves off-shoring customer service to developing countries, to save the banks money, which means to make more money, which means their service has tanked. I lose my cool. I evolve into a bitch like flipping a switch when I attempt to get a simple question answered, which isn't a simple goal. Cyber security these days means that when you call your bank, there are a multitude of voice mail options from which to choose, that begins the cascade of requests vis-à-vis the automated system: input your bank card number, select the option as to the purpose of your call, to be followed by your secret PIN number, and then you just might reach a live body, who'll begin the verification process all over, and who after speaking with you for a minute, will declare, "I'm not able to help you... Can I transfer you to someone who can?" Frustrated, my inner-bitch will reply, "Yes puh-lease!" Then, I have to endure the verification process a the third time, while the long-distance service rep is speaking to me with a time-lag; they speak [pause], after which I answer [pause], they answer my question by acknowledging they didn't quite hear my question, and for me to repeat the question. 🤬
You see how easy it is to become a bitch? When I think of the word bitch, I've re-oriented my internal dialogue to regard 'bitch' as an acronym that means "Being In Total Control [of] Herself." But when dealing with voice mail, a form of artificial intelligence, there is no control, even if you think you're being a bitch. You are their bitch, not the other way around. VOIP, which stands for Voice Over Internet Protocol enables multi-billion dollar corporations to save money by using VOIP to handle customer service calls thru a computer connection, rather than a copper line or by mobile data service.
I realize the world is filled with all kinds of people but the fewer bastards and bitches we have, the better off the whole lot of us will be. So I shall implore the banks to stop what they're doing, and make their banking services less stressful for clients, people like me with a low threshold for voice mail quagmires. Thank you! (Note to banks: I am not your bitch and I don't want to be treated like I am).
Finally, The Bleeding Hearts... persons for whom those in need most assuredly need. Our bleeding hearts remind us that we have hearts, and how beneficial it is for those of us who aren't in positions of need that when we have abundance in our lives, we can afford to share our abundance. However, some bleeding hearts are master manipulators who could make The Pope feel guilty for not being Catholic enough. These individuals burn my goat. They leave thorns in my side when they look on at you w/ disapproval bcus you had deigned to cycle on a stretch of road on the one and only day when cars are forbidden to drive on until Noon. I speak of Colonel By Drive in the city of Ottawa. Taxes levied on Canadians are no laughing matter so I take it personally when this long stretch of road is cut off to the public while a marathon is being held to raise funds for charity. Noble causes are worthy. I give, too, to many causes, some of whom get theirs right off my paycheck before my pay makes it to my pocket. But show some mercy for the residents who are barred from crossing the street to get to their home, while the marathon is in progress (for the entire day). I dole out bills to musicians who play on street corners. But when it comes to marathon races in the core of a city, why not once every other year move the location to another neighbourhood and allow them to rake in some cash? When I give to charities, I don't make it contingent that I'm allowed to prevent people from engaging in other activities that are central to the enjoyment of summer, like cycling, skateboarding, rollerblading, or riding your scooter.
It happened like this... I was forced off the road and onto the shared path. Fair enough. But along came runners in the same race who scolded me for cycling on the path, citing that I had no right to cycle on the shared path because of their charity race. I unloaded an earful, accusing them of hijacking not just the road (two lanes) but also the shared path (with emphasis on the word shared), for an entire weekend, worse if it's a long weekend. Holiday weekends in summer are precious as are sunny days. We can share the road. We can share the shared-path. There's no justification for ordering the public off one shared path, unless their goal is to turn off the public from supporting their event in future. So to these bleeding hearts, kindly be mindful not to push the active public too far.
What more can I say? A lot, knowing me. The three B's... without which where would complaining rank in the world of free speech?
