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. 

Comments

[Rachel]

I love this, and agree with you 100%. Although I usually can't bring myself to actually yell at other people.

Although I have been calling companies on their bad customer service and stupid policies lately. Just because the economy is bad doesn't mean you have to give up being a good company, you know?

[Stephan]

Book! Book! Write a book!

For the record, I'm with my wife and her pro-civility stance 100%, but, fellow readers, please join me in urging Lori to use discretion, at least when she's alone and has neither the dog nor her husband there to back her up when she goes off on a total stranger. There are psychos out there, is all I'm saying. You never know when a smack on the bumper could suddenly turn into "It puts the lotion on its skin or else it gets the hose."