President Obama jetted into town the other night and was therefore, according to right wing gum-flappery on blogs and their comments sections, responsible for the ensuing mayhem that resulted in the deaths of a number of people. I guess that horrible Marxist, socialist, Kenyan Muslim should have been home searching for his real birth certificate and his Columbia transcripts rather than visiting a country where there are still tens of thousands of American troops in harm’s way and with whom we are trying to settle the terms of a long-term partnership beyond our scheduled military withdrawal. Priorities, Mr. President! Remember, all of those deeply concerned humanitarians in the “peace movement” who are against this war and care so much about the lives of Afghans are loudly clamoring for you to bring an end to the destruction and bloodshed.
As usual, Afghan citizens bore the brunt of the violence, including a family of four that were incinerated in their car. In addition, a brave Nepalese Gurkha guard lost his life in the ensuing gun battle after these jihadi clowns breached security at the giant compound known as the Green Village. Green Village houses hundreds of foreign contractors and international workers, and it’s the place to which you can go to score overpriced Spanish wine and beer. Right on cue, Taliban mouthpiece Zaibullah Mujahid went on to crow about how the “resistance” took out over 30 NATO soldiers in the battle. It’s the usual absurdist blather from this tool that nobody takes seriously to deflect from the fact that these losers always end up in pieces next to the bodies of innocent bystanders, regular Afghan citizens simply going about their business, that are always the bulk of the casualties.
Today is apparently opening day for “fighting season,” and the not-so-ceremonial first pitch was thrown by a student at a local boys’ high school, only rather than a baseball, the charming lad decided to toss a grenade to home plate, injuring three of his classmates. We were sent home early from work when it was also learned that foreigners were going to be deliberately targeted in this opening round.
Since I would at least like to make it to the swimsuit competition in this wacky pageant, and perhaps even get a chance to offer my opinions about “U.S. Americans” to Mario Lopez, I’m content to hole up in my little room and cower. I’m encouraged to keep blogging along since I’ve got the Complete Savoy and Dial Sessions of Charlie Parker bopping along and I’ve also been lauded by critics saying, “Its amazing how well he translates his unique personal smugness so well through his writing.” If you knew the source you would be cracking up as much as I am at one of the most hilarious, textbook cases of projection you could possibly imagine.
It can be occasionally entertaining to indulge someone who insists that Penn is not an Ivy League university, that this is not the flag of Alabama, that he went to the “number one high school in the country” (whatever that means), and has a pathological need to tell people how many college degrees he has, even when the topic is the weather. I mostly try to avoid interacting with people who insist on turning every simple conversation into a manic display of their allegedly superior intellect.
People who assume that other parties have any desire to be condescendingly “educated” by someone whose bona fides are decent, but far from earth-shattering, are tiresome and pretentious, and reveal little of substance other than their own insecurities. What compels a grown man to say to someone, “Tell me what you think, then I’ll tell you why you’re wrong,” followed by yet another tedious reminder of that man’s possession of the oft-mentioned diplomas is not within the realm of psychology I care to explore.
I never asked for any confrontation with this person nor did I ever pretend that I was smarter or more educated than him, but for some reason this person always felt the need to say aloud with a scoff, “Daniels and his Ivy League degree.” I rarely had much by way of response to this nerd-baiting other than shrug, roll my eyes, and think, “And? What the fuck do you want, dude? I’m sorry that I happen to be someone who worked hard and had the wherewithal and work ethic to attend and graduate from a good university and happened to cross paths with you.”
I’m frankly humbled and honored that I had the privilege and the opportunity to attend good schools, I thank my parents for the sacrifices they made so that I could do so, and I value the many brilliant friends that I made through my educational experience who are now tenured professors, public figures, published authors, business owners and executives, talented artists, filmmakers and musicians, and hardworking high-tech designers and engineers. People that I’m thrilled to call my friends are some of the most innovative, intelligent, and brilliant people that I have ever met, and not a single one of them carries themselves with an air of importance or baits people into confrontational interactions in order to puff their own egos. THESE are the people that impress me, not pseudo-intellectual blowhards that look for opportunities to let you know how much higher their standardized test scores are or how they can quote an army field manual. Formal education and knowledge are gifts to enhance and enrich an enjoyable and pleasant life, not to beat people over the head with in order to satiate some completely unnecessary and unwarranted need to feel superior to others. Those who do so are, dare I say, somewhat smug.