If I had to admit to one guilty pleasure in life, it would be Train (the band, not actual trains). I never buy any of their music or go to their concerts, for fear of being found out; but if I find myself alone with “Hey, Soul Sister,” blasting, I will sing my pasty little heart out and I will dance, nay, frolic wherever I am. However, if I had to admit to another, it would probably be my general compulsion to make people feel stupid. Not exactly an admirable pursuit, I know…kinda fucked up really, but it seems to be a talent with which I was born.  Though these condescending urges may be part of my baser instincts, I try to focus them only on those who truly deserve it. Kind of like Dexter, but if instead of killing people, he went around being a sarcastic douche.

Being an improvisational art, most of my verbal assaults are brief in nature: correcting grammar, pointing out contradictions in logic, or asking rhetorical questions to highlight a character flaw. Here’s an easy one. When a co-worker complains about working I’ll ask, “Which part do you hate? The one where you volunteer your time in exchange for money, or the part where you have to listen to co-workers bitch all day?”  Now, the appropriate response would be “fuck off, Andy,” but not every one understands irony, and even fewer people take kindly to having their flaws pointed out. 

Sometimes I don’t even need to speak to make someone feel stupid. All it takes is a look; albeit, a look that I’ve been crafting since puberty. A quick, but slight, tilt of the head. A furrowing of the brow, and a shifting of the eyes, making it clear that I’m trying to make sense of whatever idiocy that has just been demonstrated. Here, it’s important to look in the individual’s general direction, but never directly at them.  If confrontation should ensue, you want them to seem like the aggressor. That way you can plead innocence, because once bystanders start catching on to your ruse, the game’s over. No one will take the bait if they know you’re being an asshole solely for it’s own sake.

You may be asking yourself, how does one decide who warrants such a passive aggressive form of retribution? By what metrics are they measured? And who am I to pass judgment? Well, I can’t say that I have a method of selection, or any real sense of order, but there isn’t exactly a system to being a prick. What I can say is that my victims tend to be comparable in character, displaying obnoxious behavioral patterns, yet showing extreme sensitivity to anyone who points them out. For example, there was a girl I worked with not long ago who was charming, and pretty, and as sweet as could be…the fuckin’ bitch. Not only was her whole personality a mask to cover her deep conceits and social manipulations, but she’s one of these people that never stops talking about herself. Ever. Needless to say, I cherished every opportunity to make her feel as low as that black hunk of garbage she calls a soul.

Granted, I don’t always have such brazen contempt for my targets. Sometimes I’m just bored. I’m bored of small talk; bored of pretending to care; bored of the all of the meaningless, solipsistic bullshit that people spew in order to make themselves feel important. I do realize the insensitivity of everything I just said, but sensitivity is overrated. The world is a vicious place, and if you can’t handle being mocked by someone as insignificant as me, then why even bother getting out of bed? You can feel free to call me any name you want: hypocrite, cynic, asshole. I’ll just smile and wave, because while I may be all of those things, I know who I am and I know where I stand. Do you?