What the Fuck is Wrong with People?

Firstly, I must say that my much anticipated freedom from Meep-Meep was a little overhasty; he has not been laid off, and since someone else has left the fold, it appears as though he is going to stay on a little while longer. Perhaps the title for this little blog should be 'Meep-Meep 2, Return of Meep-Meep, Meep-Meep's Revenge'.

That being said, along with the tyrannical tyrade, my opus of oppression, my ... blog of ... badness.

See, here's the thing. We all know the following:

• I hate people
• I hate crazy people
• I dislike Meep-Meep

It should come as no surprise then that I mention Ol' Meep is on the meds. I didn't mention it before because, well, I was being uncharacteristically nice. A person's inner whackiness is his/her/its personal business. But when some crazy ass motherfucker starts explaining to me in graphic detail just what the fuck is wrong with them, we have seriously jumped off the track of polite conversation and taken a U-turn into Nutland.

What's wrong with the Meepster? I'll try and recap as best I can, but since this conversation went on for several hours, I may miss some shit. I might wake up in the middle of the night screaming in terror at the stuff I repressed, but what I do remember is good enough.

Here goes.

1. He was not born insane, nor was he made crazy by chemicals. He was, in fact, driven mad by a woman. This woman made a speech at him about how happy she was, and then he wound up staying awake for two months. Then he went crazy.
2. When he was a child, someone asked him how he'd like to meet his future wife. He said 'in an accident' and when he broke his leg as an adult, he met this woman in the hospital, who also had a broken leg. There is also, apparently, another future wife of his out there (he refers to them both as young wife and old wife) and they 'both know what I am doing, and what I am all about')
3. If you are speaking in a foreign language, and you are making fun of him, he will know. If you upset him enough, he will slam both his hands over your ears and make you deaf for life. This is a wrestling move that he picked up from the WWE, which he watches to learn self-defense techniques.
4. He somehow conveyed to Mick Foley (a wrestler) that in order to be famous, he would need the sock. Oh, and the Undertaker somehow contributed to his famousness, though not in the normal sense; I got the impression that the Undertaker somehow performed some Cabalistic rite.
5. He further informed the Rock that ovens were invented to warm up a woman's shirt so her boobs could be warmed up, and that the elements were to keep your hands warm.
   
6. When he was a young man, someone asked him who he'd like to see in charge of Russia, to which he replied 'someone who drinks'. Since the last two Russian Prime Ministers have been heavy drinkers, Meepsteronomous Bosch takes full credit.
7. He has the blood of all five prime Nationalities in him (Russian, English, Native, Crazy and Jewish). Since he is so graced, I think he thinks he is next in line to rule the planet.
   
8. If you think bad thoughts at him, he will know.
   
9. He came up with the idea of chemical driven rockets, using sulphur as the primary catalyst for flight.
   
10. He can control women through their G-spots. (this makes me shudder, because his fingers are nicotine stained to the second or third knuckle on each hand)
11. He has an alternate personality named Stan, who is smarter than he is and who has an uncle. He finds it fascinating that another person in his mind can have relatives, and that he has met this relative at Loughheed Mall.
    

The only things that didn't come up were aliens, the Illuminati, Hitler and the Bermuda Triangle. Sadly, Meep-Meep is not the first paranoiac with delusions of grandeur I've encountered. Being who I am, I draw the insane to me like moths to a flame. Far be it from me to make mock of someone with a serious problem (I say this every now and again for the hell of it), but HOLY FUCK. I mean, holy fucking fuck. Meep-Meep needs to go on stronger medication, because the shit he's on now isn't working (as far as I understand it, brain meds are supposed to alleviate chemical imbalances in the brain that hinder the proper firing of neurons, thereby tainting the stream of continual information into some pretty fucked up shit). Meep-Meep needs to go on Lithium or one of those drugs that make you drool a lot.

If this motherfucker wigs out on me, there will be repercussions. I can't handle crazy people. I have enough of them inside my own head, why should I have to put up with them in the real world?