"Inner life...inner life..."
If one day you hear that not a single Salvation Army bell ringer in Atlanta arrived at work one morning, in the interest of not wasting public resources, please encourage the police to just dig up my backyard.
God, I hate those people.
When I am out and about, I have my sunglasses and mp3 player on, just your average everyday disconnected hipster douchebag, and it occurs to me that if I wanted to hear a bell ring, I would be playing it on my headphones.
When I hear that bell ring, I lust for napalm and flat-trajectory anti-aircraft artillery.
Here's a joke: What's funny? A dead bell ringer! Ha!
I'm not sure what it is about them that irritates the ever-living piss out of me. I think it's their existence. I hear that a lot of homeless people do the actual bell ringing, but this to me is a bad strategy, because I see the same people doing it year after year. Clearly, this giving to charity shit ain't working!
Sigh.
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2 comments:
Yesterday I saw one standing next a huge sign outside the supermarket that said "Say NO to Solicitors." Apparently he thought me laughing at his failure at reading comprehension meant he could talk to me.
I just pointed at the sign and said no.
I despise the suburban guilt trip, the constant ringing reminder that for the next month these religious beggars are granted special privilege to get in my way and make a lot of goddamn noise. How many people know the Salvation Army's history, beliefs, and goals (A: Not I)? Between those twats and the constant bombardment by Christmas 'music', I just want to hunker down and avoid public spaces until January. I don't hate Christmas per se, just the sonic assault and gauntlet of beggar zombies I'm forced to run just to feed myself. I'm up for a bulk purchase of napalm or sponsoring a thousand-bomber raid on whoever makes those fucking bells, though like the Schweinfurt raid, I doubt it'll make much of a dent overall.
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