There’s a monster inside of me that very rarely comes out. It’s kept bound and chained deep within my subconscious, only surfacing when particular circumstances occur. I believe everyone has one of these monsters, one they don’t like to admit to and when confronted with will attribute it’s behaviour to tiredness or their long battle against a meow meow addiction.
(am I doing this right?)
I am talking, of course, about the terror that is intolerance. Now I’m not talking about racial intolerance here, I don’t think everyone is naturally racist, there isn’t a little Hitler bubbling underneath that friendly student barista who served you your double cream whipped hazelnut latte this morning. Well there might be but really it’s more likely that they’re massively homophobic.
We’re naturally intolerant as a species, intolerance is part of our massively successful ability to adapt. If we don’t like something we either kill it, pave over the top of it or move away from it claiming we didn’t like the neighbourhood anyway. Even the religions we put in place as a species supposedly giving people a bigger reason beyond survival to bond together create greater intolerances and imaginary boundaries.
But the intolerances we individually have are always so much smaller than any of these, so inconsequential to daily life that we refuse to acknowledge them to others for fear of seeming petty. As I haven’t cared about any of the laundry I regularly air in public for some time here’s a list of things that currently push me closer to a rage fuelled, spade wielding, massacre:
- Any land line phone calls – It’s 2014, I shouldn’t have to get up to answer a phone call. If you’re calling my landline you’re either trying to sell me something or chasing a bill I haven’t paid yet. Either way I don’t need you phoning me about it and ruining my Ray Donovan marathon.
- Anyone unexpectedly knocking on my front door – Similar to the phone call only this time you’ve decided to invade my personal space, I’ll take this as a direct threat to my safety and react accordingly. Expect maniacal verbal abuse and/or violence.
- Your dog sniffing my crotch – I don’t own a dog. I don’t want a dog. I don’t like strangers smelling my crotch. If a stranger greeted me by sniffing my gonads I’d lash out. I will not be flattered that “he likes me” or “he’s not normally this well behaved around men” in the same way I wouldn’t be flattered by the cashier at Tesco licking my face.
(Hahaha awww I love the taste of Boneo and canine anus)
- Smoking in the street – It’s been proven that smoking is bad for you in the same way that ingesting printer toner is bad for you. I have chosen not to smoke, so have my kids by default, you walking along with your cloud of cancer fuel isn’t helping us avoid that. In the same way that I don’t take a spray can of bleach and liberally douse everyone I meet with it, I don’t expect you to fill my lungs with your bad decisions. I don’t fill your lungs with my overdue credit card bill.
- Saying you don’t read books – Don’t embrace your ignorance, millions of people all over the world would love to have the opportunity to read the great works of literature and yet you turn your nose up at them saying you’ll “wait for the movie”! What’s wrong with you?! Not reading books reduces your cultural experience to things other people choose for you, you know who only has things other people choose for them? Babies. Well done you’re successfully at the same intellectual level as someone who is fed from a nipple and shits themselves. Good luck in the boardroom.
(Are those pesky thoughts keeping you awake? Awww here let me take away all those nasty decisions you have to make)
The thing is these intolerances define me as a person. I don’t mind telling you guys that these things all wind me up to monstrous proportions and given a combination of all five would send me spiralling into a typhoon of vitriolic diatribe (keep up non readers) and possible violent explosions.
I’m pretty intolerant of the normal things too. Racism, homophobia, sexism, politicians I’m gluten intolerant about all of them but these are the tiny things that really set my brain on edge. I actively try to prevent the bigger things when I see it (and even through social slacktivism) but the little ones I’m more likely to experience and just mutter a curse under my breath and hope the perpetrator’s hair falls out overnight (90s cult film reference right there).