I've been pondering this rant for a while, because it takes a certain level of tact to be able to say the things I'm about to say. I am aware that my loyal readers know that tact and "What's YOUR Deal?!?" have never exactly gotten along. That and the things I'm about to write, in general, should be none of my business. But again, that hasn't stopped me before. I call bullshit where I see it and I am not going to stop.
Now on to the rant.
During the 4th of July weekend, former All-Pro quarterback Steve McNair was shot and killed in a murder-suicide by a woman he was dating. My condolences go out to the McNair family and I shall attempt to pay all the proper levels of respect to his life, his privacy, and to the man he was. However, this entire situation made me realize a few things, in conjunction with conversations with Heather, Denise, and Shannon. Shout out to this terrific trio!
I try not to be tacky and use the title of my blog in the blog, because it's implied that everything I rant about involves a adamant yelling of, "WHAT'S YOUR DEAL?!?" But this situation definitely calls for a, "WHAT'S YOUR DEAL?!?" It boggles my mind to see people in situations like that. I know we've all had our moments of morbid curiousity and we've tuned into talk shows. Not the informative interviewing kinds of talk shows, but the knock down, drag out, mid-90s Jerry Springer-esque talk shows. The Maury Poviches, the Sally Jesse Rafaels, Ricki Lakes, et cetera kinds of talk shows. The ones where no one seems to know who their "baby daddy" is. The ones that have paternity tests, the cousins dating and mating, and sending teens to boot camp because they've slept with more people than the entire population of India. It is to those people that my "What's YOUR Deal?!?" rants are focused to. Unfortunately, those are also the same people that may not have the level of reading comprehension that would be necessary to understand the words that are currently sitting on your screen. And for you, loyal readers, I just hope you see the dismay within my words and join me in a collective jaw drop and sigh.
I don't pretend to know what was going on in Steve McNair's family life or why he started dating Sahel Kazemi, the woman who would come to murder him. But I just want to pose some questions for all of us to think about. Maybe from the land of the internets, I can get some answers to make sense of the world in which we all share.
First question: Why are people dumb? This is a question I always ask. People do some freakin' illogical things that are straight up, inexcusably dumb. Most people go from zero to utterly irrationally insane in a quicker time than it takes diarrhea to spew forth from my anus when I have a stomach bug. Why? Is it really so hard to think logically about something and talk things out without the help of a talk show?
Second question: Why the hell do people cheat on each other? If the relationship is not working, then get out of it. "Oh... but I love ____." No you don't, you dumb ass. If you do, you WON'T CHEAT ON THEM! You may like them for what they provide, like money, shelter, or whatever. But you obviously don't like THEM because how much more can you disrespect someone than to lie to them and cheat on them. That makes you sub-human. You're worse than the diarrhea that I've spewed forth from my anus, because at least I KNOW where that's been.
Third question: Why the hell do people date the trashiest people and then get upset about it when they do something trashy? Uh.... duh? Case in point, a month or so ago, Tony, Judy, and I witnessed my neighbor kicking out her cheating boyfriend. Lots of crying, screaming, name-calling... we were like, "Whoa." But when the cops came and boyfriend was led out to the squad car, we saw that this dude was disgusting. He had man boobs that wrapped around his body like a floatation device and back hair that would rival Chewbacca's. This leads directly to the next two questions...
Fourth question: How do trashy people like that even GET ONE person much less, apparently, multiple partners? I've spent a lot of time single, because I'm picky. I have every right to be because I have standards. I also came to the conclusion that I was okay with being single because I can't find someone dateable. I was willing to accept that I had high standards and it would take someone pretty wicked awesome to get past the pickiness. But, I guess that makes me relatively unique. (No worries, I know I have cool friends that are more like me than a petri dish. HUZZAH to you!) And if you look like you're carrying more STDs than a research laboratory... I'd like to tell you, "Good luck. Because apparently there are people willing to love you."
Fifth question: How low does your self-esteem have to be to even date trashy people? Why can't most people realize that they don't have to lower their standards? These are the people that we find on Maury, Jerry, Sally, Ricki, etc. looking shocked and awed that their fat-ass significant others, breeding the newest in biological warfare within their crotchal regions, are cheating on them with someone equally as sub-human. Why? WHY?!? Dump the dumbass and go find someone better.
I'm not saying that this was what Steve McNair and Sahel Kazemi had going on, but you have to realize that if he wasn't cheating on his wife with her, he'd be still alive. I'm sorry if I'm an asshole for saying that. Yes, we should focus on his life and successful career but, the fact of the matter is that he was victimized in the most heinous of ways by the woman he cheated on his wife with. Yeah, we watch those talk shows and we mock those that are in bad relationships, but at any given moment, some psycho will buy a gun and kill. Call this a public service announcement or whatnot, but don't be dumb. Don't get involved in shit like that. If all of your friends are going, "WTF are you doing with this person?" then maybe they're right. I don't have a lot of fans that are regular readers of my blog, I don't want to lose any of you to something senseless like that.
Dump the ho-bags, the trashy folks, and hopefully they don't scratch out the word, "HO" on the hood of your car. (True story, Shannon and I saw that this weekend.) But better HO on the hood of your car than getting shot in the head.
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