The Bangkok Balcony

The Bangkok Balcony is a great place to get Thai food. It’s not terribly expensive, but it’s not cheap either. Their curry is fantastic. I thoroughly recommend it. We went there for dinner Friday evening, after work. It’s a nice way to end the week. I got some Massaman curry, nice and hot. My wife got Thai-fried rice with tofu. We each had a beer with dinner, just a beer each. The Bangkok Balcony is a great place to eat, but a shitty place to drink. They don’t have a wide beer selection. Their hard liquor is overpriced. I don’t know about their wine. I don’t drink wine. Beyond that, it’s a fucking restaurant. You don’t go to a restaurant to drink. You go there to eat. We ate big meals, each with a single beer. No buzz whatsoever. We paid. We walked to the door, out the door, and started down the steps. It’s a balcony, after all. It’s on the second floor of a building. In front of us, headed down the stairs, were two women obviously having trouble. They were kind of short and looked like they were in their 40s, with permed hair. Dressed like your mom, and carrying shopping bags. The first one was doing relatively okay, but the second one was doing very badly. I was initially inclined to go help her, but I saw how jerky, disconnected, and uncoordinated her movements were, and I thought that perhaps she had cerebral palsy. Not wanting to insult or humiliate her, I patiently walked down the stairs behind her, as her movements took up the entire width of the stairwell. The descent down one flight of stairs took easily three minutes. No big deal. I was glad to see that she made it down without any problems. The first woman turned around, and was very red-faced and sweaty. She smiled and slurred out a “Sorry” as she fumbled with her car keys. The second woman, was also turned around, was even redder, sweatier, and could not even get out an intelligible sentence. She just burst into laughter. At that point I realized that palsy was not to blame for her state. We went off in our own direction, feeling morally superior. Then it occurred to me that somebody should stop them from trying to drive. So I turned around to see them staggering up the street, and concluded that my intervention would not be necessary to prevent them from gaining entry to their vehicle.

I Smell Good

Right now I smell like artificial mint flavoring, cheap aftershave, and aerosol deodorant. I smell like the sort of man who wears khakis and a polo shirt, not because he has to for work, but all of the time, because he chooses to. I smell like I should be eating Buffalo wings at Hooters, drinking bad beer and watching televised sports. I smell like I have a 401K, a nice car, an obedient wife and no thoughts of my own. I smell like the self-righteous lies of a Christian man in a porn store. I don’t smell the way I look, behave, feel, or live.

Apologies and Cologne

Cologne is stupid. Why would I want to smell like anything other than myself? I smell magnificent on my own. I don’t need any help.

Apologies are self-indulgent. They’re made for the purpose of relieving your feelings of guilt and regret. They do nothing to heal the injured individual. Apologizing is like masturbating in front of somebody because you did something shitty to them and you want to feel better about it.

Cologne is a pre-emptive apology for one’s own scent. It is ideologically offensive. Jesus would wear cologne, for the same dumb reasons that he wants you to abide by his dad’s ten commandments. Cologne is humanity pretending that we’re something higher than animals.

Frat Boys

On the ladder of human evolution and moral standing, somewhere below pedophiles, rapists, serial murderers, drug dealers and used car salesmen you’ll find frat boys. Sure, just like cops, there are some good ones, perhaps even very good ones, but generally speaking, they’re degenerates. A frat boy is a meathead who is too terrified of the world around himself to confront it as an individual. He can only meet the world confidently if surrounded by a whole pack of like-minded people who have paid to join his semi-exclusive friend club. A frat boy is the opposite of an independent, critically thinking individual. Events like the various medieval inquisitions perpetrated by the Catholic Church, the Salem witch trials, the Holocaust, the Mafia, gang rape, televised sports, war, the Ku Klux Klan, and the band Sublime are only possible because of frat boys. These are all events or activities in which no thinking individual in their right mind would participate, endorse, or propagate. However, once you’ve surrendered your personal free will over to your group identity, all manner of idiocy becomes easily possible. None of us is as dumb as all of us. The frat boy, in his current and all historical manifestations, is proof of that.

This Guy

This guy leads with his junk. He’s incredible. When he looks at girls, he turns his whole head, neck, and shoulders right in front of them with no subtlety or apologies. He makes sure he gets an eyeful. He makes me look prudish. The party never stops.