You All Suck (Exhibit #9 - Food and Safety Nazis)

In the never-ending battle to identify the worst human beings alive -- so that they may be beaten bloody at leisure -- nothing is as helpful a tool as a holiday; Holidays bring out the worst in The Worst.

Another Independence Day gone, another round of soul-sucking self-righteousness endured.

In the long, and growing by the day, list of people who suck so hard, few are as annoying as either the Food Nazi or the Safety Nazi. On their own, either is capable of ruining the simplest of life's pleasures by their mere presence. On their own, both are a bane to the enjoyment of anything that threatens to be either fun or decadent. When combined in a single mega-package of condescending, Force-5, full-bore suckitude (and I also mean "bore" in the sense of being a downer of epic proportions), such people are practically daring you to puncture their faces repeatedly with an icepick.

If you are not familiar with these archetypes of gloomy fucktard, I'll take a minute to define them for you. Consider it a public service.

The Food Nazi is someone who takes it upon herself (it's usually a "her") to evaluate and pass comment on your food choices, always unbidden, and always under the mistaken impression that you give a flying fuck at a rolling donut ("Sorry", she scolds, "but donuts are bad for you...") that you actually care for her unwarranted opinion.

Whatever it is you are about to eat -- and enjoy -- requires this busybody to pass a comment. She is compelled to do so. Mostly because Society hasn't yet relaxed it's unwritten rules enough to allow you to torture her with a cattle prod in an effort to shut her the fuck up. Typical examples of this non-essential fault-finding:

"You know, that's loaded with fat...".

"You know, that's all sugar...".

"Do you have any idea what that does to your insides?".

"How can you eat that? It makes me wanna throw up!".

"You're killing yourself with every bite, you know...".

"There's a healthier alternative to that...".

"Do you realize how many people have probably died just so you could eat that crap?".

You get the idea; anything you're about to eat and perhaps savor is a deadly threat to the survival of the human race, if not the entire planet, or unnecessarily kills you, everyone else, or at best, keeps the Emergency Rooms full of diabetics, heart patients, and gout cases. This is usually followed by an interminable monologue revolving around the chemistry of your food, your internal mechanisms, and a bunch of articles she's read in magazines that are emblazoned with the phrase "Find out what he REALLY wants in Bed" every single fucking week, and all written by other chicks who also lack a clue.

If any of those articles were true, then every woman in America would be an Asian chick with a huge rack, no gag reflex, gourmet cooking skills, and the ability to remain silent until spoken to, and even then, limiting their responses to one word answers that are actually logically-connected to the conversation initiated.

Because that's what I REALLY want in bed.

Funny, but none of those articles ever says that.

Anyway, the Food Nazi is suffering from a particularly virulent and asinine form of OCD that renders her incapable of keeping her yap shut and her opinions secret when it comes to food. She must pass judgment upon you based upon what you like to eat, because she's really an insecure, low self-esteem, self-hating bag of hormones who would have nothing to do or say if she wasn't busy oppressing you with her demented thought processes. She is only happy if she makes you miserable; it's how this form of mental disorder works.

In a twist of Cognitive Dissonance -- another mental disorder -- if you should turn the tables on this kind of asshole and begin passing unsolicited comments about what SHE eats, she suddenly gets all defensive, insulted, and aggressive, insisting that it's "not nice" for you to (as the kids all say today) Yuck Her Yum. This is always --cluelessly -- followed up with the rhetorical "How would you like it if I did that to you?", which is an indication that you're dealing with an utter moron, and you'd be doing society a favor by killing her on the spot.

The Safety Nazi is a similar breed of ignoramus, except that instead of limiting his lectures to the evils of ingesting something tasty, his concern extends to the potentially-deadly effects of everything in Creation.

According to the Safety Nazi, we're all mere moments from imminent death. A particularly hoary, bloody, unpleasant demise.

This is why everything must have a seat belt. Why you must be required to wear a helmet while taking a shit. Why children should be wrapped in bubble wrap and kept indoors before the twin evils of dirt and sunlight give them simultaneous cancer of the anus and eyeballs. Everything is a cornucopia of insidious death: your car, your aluminum siding, playgrounds, skateboards, roller skates, cell phones, goldfish, swimming pools. Everything is a choking hazard, which is presumptuous, because it implies you're a dumbass who would put shit in your mouth that doesn't belong there. Everything -- other people, inanimate objects, invisible forces -- are all in a secret conspiracy to deprive you of life and limb, and you're just too stupid to recognize it.

And, naturally, because this douchebag is an expert in all the ways you might get killed accidentally, he has statistics to quote all fucking day long to bolster his (mental) case.

This screaming mental defective is suffering from a wide variety of disorders, too, prime among them paranoia, severe anxiety, and I wouldn't doubt that he's also a victim of a catastrophic potty training accident, and probably resents his mother for taking the nipple away too soon (i.e. before his 10th birthday). He, too, is a pain in the ass who has to preface anything you're about to enjoy with a boring monologue of severed limbs and epic disaster.

Now, combine the two in a single individual, and you will find that you are dealing with a Weapon of Mass Dickhead.

This past Independence Day, I had the distinct pleasure to spend the day with a friend from high school that I've recently reconnected with. He and his lovely wife were gracious enough to invite us to their home for the July 4th Celebrations, and Mr. And Mrs. Overlord were thoroughly entertained by good company, but especially by good food, for my friend has mastered the art of smoking meat and making his own sausages.

In fact, that was the entire menu -- smoked and barbecued meats. If one of the other couples who were invited hadn't brought fresh fruit for dessert, there would have been no greenery or fiber in this smorgasbord at all; just great, big, smoky slabs of beef, pork and chicken.

Fucking delicious.

Later that evening, sitting on my front porch watching the fireworks being illegally set off by, oh...everyone in the neighborhood...I witnessed several acts of near-unintentional arson, near-fatal wounding of passers-by, unexpectedly premature explosions, flying shrapnel, and I think (really, HOPE) at least one cat in dire straits.

It's beautiful. The noise; the colors; the thrill of watching rockets fly into the air and explode. The smell of spent gunpowder that lingers in the air for two days afterward. The children, excited, awestruck. The families -- from young to old -- smiling, laughing, applauding with sheer joy at every loud BOOM! and every explosion of color. It's a wonderful thing.

And then a few days later, while the pleasurable experiences are still fresh in your mind, and can still make you smile while you have to wait on hold to make a dentists' appointment, all comes crashing down. It's demolished by an encounter with a relative (who shall remain nameless) who is determined to be the ultimate wet blanket, the Herald of the Apocalypse, who fucking asked how you enjoyed the 4th and what you did, your tale being constantly interrupted by a stream of unnecessary criticism and doom-mongering and unsolicited Conventional Wisdom (God, is there anything WORSE than Conventional Wisdom?) that goes something like this:

"Oh my God? You ate all that?"

"That sounds dangerous. You know, I know someone who had a heart attack like that."

"You were drinking, too? Do you know how many drunks are on the road on July 4th? You're lucky to be alive."

"I can't believe you found that enjoyable. I would have puked/run inside/hid under a rock/built a bomb shelter/prayed for Divine Intervention. You can get killed that way."

And these are the times when you most regret sharing your happiness with someone who is preternaturally determined to point out the flaws in your character that the simple enjoyment of this naughty, chaotic, unhealthy activity indicates you possess in spades.

And you wonder why there is never a fucking claw hammer handy when you need one.

"You All Suck" is a Featured essay which highlights the incredible stupidity of the Human Race. Stay tuned for future installments.