I understand that in order to exist in a society of laws and other such nonsense, that I’m not allowed to flat out smack people I don’t feel like dealing with, an inconvenience I just have to live up to. What I will not accept is having to engage in idle chit-chat because people find silence uncomfortable. I’m actually quite shocked that people even attempt to talk to me based on my outwardly appearance of being a rather large and intimidating black man, which leaves me to wonder if they’re doing it out of fear or–you know what, nevermind, it’s pretty much all fear. Because of that fear, they attempt to make friends as quickly as possible, hoping that their dull take on the world is enough to keep me from knocking them over the head and taking their wallet.

First off, there are the forced conversations that take place every day, in every office building and high rise apartment complex the world over. For me, elevators are a gift from the lazy man’s God to ensure we only use one little finger to ascend towards the heavens, leaving those heart-healthy stairwalkers in our wake. While I’m in the middle of worship, the last thing I want is to share the 6×6 rising box with some nervous-nelly who can’t enjoy the silence. Once you make the mistake of looking in their direction, they take that as an invitation to spit as much inane drivel at you as fast as they can. It’s as if they feel the need to make one dumb statement per floor, and God help you if you have a pet or child as they will also feel completely justified to ask you all sorts of personal questions, not only invading your space, but the space of the creature that’s dependent on you for its survival. They let loose with phrases like “Aw, he’s adorable, how old is he?” or, “Are you still breast-feeding?, which is COMPLETELY inappropriate to ask a large black man when he is simply taking his dog for a walk (in this country at least).”

Emotional death trap.

But uncomfortable elevator conversation can’t compare to the hostage situation that occurs whenever I’m trying to mind my own damn business in any sort of professional type establishment. Restaurants, office buildings, brothels, you name it, someone somewhere is going to find me and almost succeed in actually boring me to death. While I don’t particularly care about the topic (or the actual person), most of it is pretty innocent, but, unlike the elevator confrontations, they have more than enough time to go into excruciatingly painful details that make you wish a nuclear device would go off, as being vaporized on a molecular level would be less invasive.

What happens next is the direct result of you simply nodding at everything they say at an attempt to get them to leave you alone and puts on you on the same level of a priest at confessional: they start admitting all sorts of shit you just don’t admit to strangers. I once had a gentleman go into a tirade about his ex-wife and the alimony that he was (not) paying. His rationalization? He wanted to be thrown in jail instead of paying her, so that way, her tax dollars would pay for him to live. See if you follow me: He would rather be INCARCERATED and lose all of his civil liberties because he didn’t want to pay a dime to a woman he apparently hates. Why on earth, would you tell anyone you don’t know this story, and what is it about me that you thought I’d be okay with hearing it?

That is just one example of someone detailing every single problem they’ve ever had in their life to me, ranging from big exams to sexual inadequacies, I hear it all, and then I die a little.

Oh shit, I get off on this floor. Would you mind holding the doors? Thanks a bunch.

httpv://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U4f_PNNe7lI

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Chris hates anyone or anything which goes against how he feels a sentient being with more than three brain cells should act. He hopes to use his “Encyclopedia Douchebag…ica” as a springboard into becoming a full-fledged, tax exempt religion complete with holidays and greeting cards, mainly so he can steal from its coffers. His hopes are…not that high, knowing that those who needs his guidance most, are unable to read his words… what with the extra flesh from their sloped, ape-like foreheads blinding their eyes from the truth.

When not acting like a complete bastard (which is not very often), Chris writes about all things video game related on his blog iNOOBriated, and his Twitter. He also offers his services as a freelancer for Beckett’s Massive Online Gamer. Yep, he’s a neeeeeerd.