Friday, January 14, 2011

An open letter to the drunk

Stop it. Just stop it. You’re being a ridiculous idiot. No one is going to fix your life except you, so stop crying in your martini. Why did you order a martini anyway? You’ve already complained several times how strong it is. 

So you’re upset that your husband left you and you simply can’t understand why. You’re at the bar, drinking, looking for answers in a situation you can easily change. Yet, you’re compelled to tell all of us all about it but won’t listen to any sage bar advice.

Not that our lives are perfect by any stretch of the imagination. We’ve all got problems but we resist the urge to purge the contents of our misery on the bar top for the cat to lick up. We’ve got some level of decency in us. Mind you, it’s only a minor level of decency, but it’s there.

I’ve never met someone so obstinate about their own position in life, blaming God for the condition they’ve found themselves in. No amount of religious reasoning will slow your hog like snorting and crying. I say hog like because of your incredible continual rummaging and rooting through the trash of your life, finding the nuggets of hell you are only too happy to share.   We look at you with pity and try to offer understanding, but because you blame God, you can’t see your life is in your own hands. It’s infuriating.

So Stop it. Just stop it. Yeah, have a Mai Tai, that’ll fix it.

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