Maxximillian Dafoe

Meet the Underdog: You

In Humor, underdog, Watch this video on June 30, 2008 at 8:14 pm

No matter how bad assed we are, there is always at least one person who will hate us. It is simply a matter of fact. No matter who you are, there will be that one person who can’t wait to see you with a little egg on your face- or a lot of egg, as the case may be. Take for example, Oprah. Awesome lady, generous, successful, kind; still, plenty of people can’t stand Oprah, for any variety of [stupid] reasons, I actually overheard one idiot whine, “the woman has too much money for people to like her”, ostensibly, any political figure or celebrity is a target.

But before you go shedding a tear for Star Jones and Hillary Clinton and J Lo, realize this truth: we are- each of us, the ne’er-do-well of someone else’s tale.

Each of us is ‘that jerk’ to some other person. And probably on a daily basis. For example, how many people do you think you pissed off while you sat furiously texting at the green light on the corner of Crescent Heights and Melrose? Or at the Chevron on PCH, trying to pay for that quilted Charmin with those pennies, nickels and one quarter from between the seats of your Sonata? If you now have a boyfriend or girlfriend that had a love interest at anytime before they met you, there is good potential that the person that they’re no longer with (regardless of how it ended) isn’t happy to see them with you. Target. And if you married that person or have become engaged, it especially goes for you. Not only do you have their man/woman but, you ain’t givin’ ’em back! Target! And any person holding any job can best believe that someone at work is planning/plotting/awaiting our demise or at least daydreaming of punching us in the nose/seeing us trip and fall (perhaps into an open elevator shaft)/watching us get fired- right now.

None of us are ever exempt. It doesn’t matter how many people think we rule the world and rock the planet. There is, always has been and may always be some other nutherphlucker who would just as soon be quite rid of us. Our roles in life are, like art, subjective. And like art our relevance, is relative: No matter how great we try to be or believe we are- to somebody, each of us are ‘that jerk’ from accounting/the union/AT&T/the 405 southbound freeway this morning/yoga class/acting class/Ohio.


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