Fed Up

It's going on 3 a.m. and I am unable to sleep because of the bastards in the world. I feel like going to the window and shouting at the top of my lungs "I'm mad as hell and I'm not going to take it any more!" (Howard Beale, "Network," 1976)

What does one do with such rage? How does one strike back at the injustices encountered in daily living? How many cretins must one put up with it before it's one too many?

It's not one thing, or even a few things. It's many, many, many things which individually aren't that big of a deal. But when they just keep coming, one on top of the other. . .well, sometimes I think I'll explode.

I want to make the bastards pay. It's not really revenge I seek. It's justice. Bastards who screw you just a little, knowingly, without care or concern, without feeling even a touch bad about it.

Good people are being hurt. Good people are suffering. Good people who don't deserve to be treated in the manner in which the bastards treat them. And yet, the bastards always seem to win.

Does it ever balance out? Do good people ever truly defeat evil?

Excuse me. I'm going to go howl at the moon. If I can find it. Probably too cloudy to see it. Bastards.