Strong Feelings

What do I reserve my strong feelings for? Sometimes I meet a girl and I reserve a night for her. Sometimes I can tell what’s she like from the very beginning and I reserve some strong feelings for her. I put them on hold; if any customer asks for them, I just say they’ve been half paid for, even if it’s not true… I don’t like mushteriii [tr. customers] so much anyway.

But on some occasions, for some express categories, no reservation is required. Like the Queen doesn’t need to make an appointment with the mechanic, for instance. I imagine she can pull her Rolls in the front alley of the mechanic shop anytime she wants, really.

It’s like that with my strong feelings and the Americans; you can ask me anytime if I have some strong feelings about them, and yes, I do. I strongly dislike them. I don’t hate them, not in the general sense of the word, but that’s pretty much covered by half of the Globe. No, I am an educated European; my level of culture exceeded the average american level of culture when I passed into 3rd grade. I can’t possibly hate Americans, because you can’t really hate a guy with the Down Syndrome. That’s how they generally look, don’t they? Fat, incapacitated, drop-dead-stupid but they have that childish look on their faces… you know y’all, like Down – syndrome people do…. it’s kindda cute. I can’t hate that. My heart isn’t dark enough. But I really really dislike them, tough.

And then, there’s the Romanian political class. It’s an entire class. You knew that in Romania being  politician is a proffesion? Is it like that in your countries? If your fat ass served Romania as an elected official, after some time you get a retirement fund. Like you’ve actually done something. Pension, it’s called. It’s just plain preposterous, if you ask me. But nobody did. You know why? Because they vote their own salary. They vote their own pension, too. In the day they passed the law about how much they should get paid, all members of the House of Parliament were present. It wasn’t a record-breaking presence in the session, it was unprecedented. When discussions were afoot to establish how much $ to take home, they were all there. That never happened until then or since then in the modern history of my country.

When I heard that I said, well, I’m in the wrong business. I should set my own paycheck as high as I want. So I did. I went to my boss and informed him that from tomorrow on, I will earn as much as a Romanian member of the Parliament. He was so busy and that was such a stupid thing of me to say that I don’t even think he acknowledged what I said. He just said OK. None the less, from that day onwards, I earned as much as a Romanian member of the house of Parliament. That lasted for 8 months. I worked and got paid. Work. Pay. You get the picture. Guess what, after 8 months, my boss finally catches up to my payroll and I get fired. So I figured it must be something wrong with that number of months… 8. It’s funny how that coincides with the number of months after election when Romanian voters start becoming really pissed with their choice. On a related note, you could make a kid in that period of time [providing that you own a vagina] – but the kid will probably be screwed up. It’s not enough time to create something  and make it work. It’s, as they say, premature.

Back to my idea, I have some strong feelings reserved for the Romanian political class. I hate them all. The lot of them. I hate the fact that I’m regarded around the Globe as a 3rd world citizen because of them. I hate that I live in a country wealthy in natural resources that is experiencing the worst possible management. A bunch of half-brain apes could do a better job. I hate that they are not even discreet about being stupid or thieves, the lot of them. I hate that they can’t get fired after 8 months. I hate their official cars that have right of passage before me.

Recently, I found out that they also hate. These inbred lobotomized laboratory failures also hate. Each and everyone of them might have a set of things that they personally hate, but I am no more interested in their particular persons then the syphilitic chimp that humped their mothers in their conceiving moments was interested in their first time they [the politicians] decided to probe their cracks with a toilet brush. And what all these political figures hate while I pay them to get shit done around here is one of their own. It’s the current president. His name is Base, but that’s less relevant to this point.

Now I found myself in somewhat of a dilemma. Hating them all together proved so far to be easy and less time-consuming. Comfortable. Some of my friends used to ask me “Hei, Syringe, what do you think of the politician that…” “I hate them all, man. If they were all to drop dead tomorrow, I’d have a terrific party, everybody’s invited, we’ll drink and have a good time“. But no, they refuse to die all at once. If they die one at the time is no good, you see. According to experiments conducted in the mid 70′s, a new monkey in the cage will be taught the ways and rules of the cage. So one of them removed is not going to help anyone. And they can’t all be removed, apparently. I suspect many people wanted them all removed over time, but history recorded no such accomplishment, sadly.

At the point when I gathered all these information, my brain was to lazy, to full of hatred and disrespect to even tackle the problem. Then I learned one other fact.

It seems that, before a recent international political gathering at Bruxelles, Base expressed his desire to meet with his U.S. counterpart, Obama. Only that Obama didn’t share his enthusiasm about a meeting and expressed it quite directly in a press conference. The new Messiah of the Americans took the microphone and went into details about how much he dislikes Base and his regime. It was delirious. I’m glad I wasn’t there, because I would have probably had a laughter attack. Anyway, Base [not one of our brightest and best] goes on to ignore not only what the black guy said, but also ignores all political protocol, approaches Obama behind his back and taps his shoulder, like: “Yo, dude, I need a word with you“. At this point, they were on a stage with at least a dozen other heads of state, so SS couldn’t kill him. I’m sure they wanted to. Obama turns to see that it’s Base, turns back around and walks away, not saying a word.

Of course, Base is a Neanderthal son of my ugly bitches, going up to the president of U.S. and asking for a moment like I would ask you to join me for a coffee, but that suddenly became second in importance once I realized that Obama hates the guy and what he does. The political class of Romania hates the guy and what he does. I hate them all. See where I am going? Suddenly, I’m Base’s biggest fan! I would vote for him twice.

Peace y’all.