People Standing up on Public Transit are Dog Shit on the Heel of Society

If you picked Chicago up and moved it to India, the people who are standing upright on public transit buses and trains would be the lowest form of scum in the Caste System, the “Untouchables”. If you don’t have a seat on public transit, you may as well be a black person in antebellum South Carolina, because you don’t have a single fucking right in the world. Everyone sitting down hates you. And I don’t mean “doesn’t like you”, but “fucking hates your sorry ass”. They don’t want you to touch them. They don’t want you to breathe on them. They don’t want you anywhere near their space. They will glare at you like a dog that just shit on the floor in front of company if you have the misfortune of momentarily losing balance and so much as touch the corner of their book or newspaper. They would prefer you fall out of the door and be run over by the back wheels of the bus, and die, than to even consider touching one of their shoes with your own shoe. But it doesn’t stop there. The bus driver hates you just as much. He/she (and occasionally a He-She) is constantly telling your stupid, bovine fucking ass to move to the back of the bus, or not stand next to the door sensor in the back. Do you know who else hates you just as much? The other people standing up. They don’t want you touching them. They don’t want you breathing on them. They fucking hate you with the fury of a thousand suns for the mere fact that you had the audacity to board the same bus that they are forced to stand on. If the bus suddenly stops and everyone goes flying into one another, the person you ran into will wish you dead on the spot for running into them, despite the fact they hit the person in front of them. In every possible scenario you lose. Someone sitting down farts, it drifts to your nose. Someone standing up farts, it drifts into your nose. Hot air rises. Hell, chicks can get finger-blasted against their will and have no legal recourse whatsoever. If you get finger-blasted unwillingly while sitting down on the bus, they have courts for that. But it is understood by the U.S. legal system that if you are standing on that same bus and are penetrated through force, there are no laws to protect you. The lawyer will gravely shake his head “no” as you plead with him to take your case. When you get on that bus and there are no seats, you have two choices: A) Knowingly forfeit all your rights as a U.S. citizen and human being or B) Step right back off the bus and hail a cab. Just know that if you choose option A, you are an un-person.

About Zach

Male homo sapien. Warrior poet. I live in Chicago with one wife, one offspring, and Scout the dog. I enjoy various stuff. Besides skinny skiing and going to bullfights on acid, I also enjoy running, reading, drinking, eating and procrastinating on many things, such as starting this blog. I have a mom, a dad, and a younger brother who recently produced a sister-in-law. I'm the only person in my family, sister-in-law included, who doesn't have a post-graduate degree. I guess that makes me special. I grew up in a small to medium sized town in the middle of Ohio. In fact the even smaller town next door has a sign which reads "The Geographic Center of Ohio". Given this is what they choose to boast you can only imagine how exciting that town is. My town is infinitely cooler. For example on weekend nights people from my town and the surrounding villages and hamlets converge on the public square to "cruise" in their souped-up mini trucks, some bearing Confederate flags, despite growing up and living rather safely north of the Mason-Dixon line. This is high-minded stuff we're talking about here. I graduated sometime during the Clinton presidency from the local high school where I played football and participated in absolutely nothing else. This strategy paid huge dividends when I applied to numerous colleges on the eastern seaboard which were highly selective. When you show up to the admissions table with "HIgh School Football and Nothing Else" on your application, you get respect. After graduating from Ohio University with a degree in Economics that I've used for absolutely nothing, I moved to Boston. Boston is a lovely city. I was doing things I'm not proud of for beer money and I left after 16 months. My next move was to Chicago and 10+ years later there I still reside. I write this blog for therapeutic reasons. Much like some people paint to relax or smoke crack to unwind after a stressful day, I record my thoughts on Al Gore's World Wide Web for 9 friends, 4 family members, 1 person who accidentally clicked through after an unsuccessful Google search for something else, and a guy named Patriot1 who lives in a silver Air Stream in the Nevada desert and broadcasts his own radio show. Is there a point to all of this? I doubt it. Years ago and in a galaxy far, far away (College Park, Maryland, then Athens, Ohio) I was toying with the idea of being a journalism major. I enjoyed writing so it seemed the obvious fit. Then I attended career day and learned that journalism majors could look forward to a salary of $EA,TSH.IT per year with the promise of a fatal heart attack at 47 years of age. I'm not falling for that trick, I told them (them being no one, and told being saying it in my own mind in the shower). Approximately 15 years later here I sit declared the big winner in that battle: I never made any money doing anything else and now I'm writing entirely for free. So suck balls, journalism career day. The views expressed in this website are mine and mine entirely. I don't wish to be an even bigger black eye to my family than I probably already am. As a result of this I will never be able to run for public office and I accept that reality. But this website is a very dignified, well-dressed skeleton full of witty retorts and honorable deeds compared to the disheveled, stenching, staggering and loud skeletons who would come marching out of the closet to White Zombie's "Thunderkiss '65" if they ever unearthed the college years. So enjoy your train ride, your hangover day at work, your AA meeting or your dump. I'm here to serve.
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