The Blue Mark of the Asshole

You gotta be shitting me. That’s some total shit. You fucking bag of shit!

Wow. “Shit” is an impressively hard working word. Beloved too. We English speakers have so embraced the S-H-I-T combo that we’ve, like with its equally adored cousin, “fuck,” deemed it trustworthy enough to take on the roll of damn near every part of speech. I wonder how that happens. Is there a Royal Ministry of Word Maker-uppers?

“Sirs and esteemed colleagues of the Ministry. I propose we fabricate a new adjective. One that more forcefully conveys a chosen noun’s extreme low quality when existing words, such as “horrible,” do not suffice. Yes, the representative from the United States of America wishes to make a suggestion?”

“I don’t think we need a new word. Just let “shit” handle it. He’s totally strong enough. And besides, it’s 4:45 on a Friday before a 3-day weekend. Does anyone really want to get into this shit right now?”

“Approved. Willy’s or The Green Lion?”

Funny how much we especially cherish words we’ve deemed offensive. I guess everyone loves a bad boy. But I digress.

What’s got me in a shitty (last time, I swear) mood is the incredibly spoiled, despicable behavior of some of the dog owners who use the many gorgeous acres of open spaces here in the SF bay area. We’re just so goddamned lucky to have them that I really get frothy when they’re mistreated. Now you, my one reader, may already be thinking, “Yeah, I hate when people don’t pick up their dog’s leavings (I bet you use the word “leavings,” because if you’re a reader of mine, you must be learned and genteel).” But you’d only be partially predicting the reason for my ire. I’ve actually never had a run-in with processed Alpo, with foot or tire (unlike fucking horse crap. Oh yeah, and that one time I wished it had been dog crap), at least not out on the trail. My issue is with the maddening, half assed habit of dog owners bagging their dog’s shit then calling it a day. It’s stunning to me how often I see the blue mark of the asshole on the side of the trail. Why would someone do that? Are you only kind of an inconsiderate fuck? A half-prick? Do these people only have so much consideration for others per day, but happen to tap out the tank just as they tie off the bag—like they’re running out of good person fuel until tomorrow’s shipment comes in? It’s like saying, “Hey, I really like you, you fucking cock sucker.”

I’m imagining these people in their daily lives. These must be the same people who take a big dump and can’t be bothered with hitting the flush after hoisting their trousers and exiting the stall. We had to invent a whole new technology—the auto flusher—just for these low lifes. Do they also wash their dishes but leave the scrubbed dishes sitting in the sink of orange, grease-slicked water? Noooo. Because that would affect them.

And these people must be absolute knockouts in the sack.

“Ohhhh! Ohhhhh! Ohhhh….Wha…? Hey! Where the fuck are you going?”

Look, I get it that it’s kind of gross to carry around a blue plastic bag full of Bonzo’s warm turd. But if you’re law abiding enough to go through the unpleasant chore of bending down and putting yourself nose first into the stink atmosphere of your dog’s soft serve and grabbing the squishy warm mess with your blue condomed hand, then why…just…WHY?!

It is honestly one of the most puzzling behaviors I’ve ever run across. And these are out door loving people (! and ?). I guess I stumbled on the key word right there: People. The thing makes us so great also makes us so horrible: We don’t act only on instinct. We make our own decisions when it comes to behavior, and sooo many of us out there just absolutely suck at it, especially when we can simply walk away from the consequence, leaving it for someone else to either grit their teeth and endure, or have to clean up themselves.

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