A Page From The Great Carla Part Deux: Public [In]Decency
A Page from the Great Carla Part Deux: Public Decency
Who: Youth of New York
Where: Public Transportation
What: Social Conventions
“There are times, living in New York, where I have stopped, frozen in horror from the society around me. It is, in most ways-an immorally lavish kind of place, filled with wild sports fans, liberal scum and socially detached, deviant youth. The kind of youth that gains entertainment from outlets like the serial masochistic viewing of the mental train-wreck called ‘Jersey Shore’, watching the now tragically ironic ‘Music Television’ channel, and religiously pumping unimaginative, robot-y sounding music off of the hell hole that is I-tunes.
And it is exactly this type of socially disconnected youth that should very well be paralyzing most people with half a brain cell with fear. They’re rude. They’re ruthless. They’re detached from reality; and most importantly-all accepted social conventions of yesteryear have been thrown out of the window for a more progressive approach to life: ‘Fuck it, they’re gonna do it anyway.’
Education on how to make one’s healthy debut into the mainstream public and being around people has ceased to exist with the dawn of the ‘Park Slope Kids’ Era [Also Known As: ‘The Death of No’]-and has opened up a new age in devolution. Hey, I’m not from the Victorian Years; but there’s nothing wrong with being a little bit of a tight ass when it comes to being in public. Not only this, but the new advent of anonymity on the internet has quite surely brought down frontal-lobe behavioral activity; and in essence, has turned today’s youth [especially New York youth] into quasi-sociopath stalkers. Kids who play Call of Duty all day and only chat with their so-called internet friends [more like internet fiends] wonder why girls won’t date them-and equably, girls wonder why there aren’t any normal guys out there anymore. Well, I’ll tell you why, folks: Chances are that when you’re gulping down Mommy’s cookies between levels on Online Play for the fortieth hour instead of going out and socializing-you just might gain the magical power to yes-deflect vagina!
It’s exactly this type of encouragement from society that leads to my quite disconcerting plight in a public bus. I, as usual am doing my thing: Looking fine and minding my own damn business. This is, until a three-foot tall Indian man-child approaches my seat, and proceeds to latch himself on two-not one-seat handles on either side of my chair.
This puts me into and awkward position, you see folks? Considering this kid’s at nipple level with my eyes as I’m sitting down. That means that to hold on to both handles on either side at the same time, he had to stretch himself a little thin.
But that does not mean the kid has to then rub his crotch all over my shoulder over the course of the next forty-five minutes. I mean, c’mon, ladies and gentlemen-the bus ride was not so turbulent that he had to stand there, practically resting his balls on my shoulder all ‘Polly Wants A Cracker’ as he humps back and forth in a not-so discreet manner.
Terrified and slightly confused, I sit there, unable to do anything as I am so mortified. Oh, and the fact that I was reluctant to open my mouth due to the fact that this man-bear-pig smelled to high heaven of a volatile mix of curry and an unforgettable personal musk. Good God, I prayed to every deity imaginable to get this kid off of me, but it seems like the Big Guy upstairs had some laughs planned instead.
Instead, the kid starts to pretend to lean forward to see what’s going on in the front of the bus-which is, nothing. He proceeds to lean all the fucking way in to my face as the bus turned a corner and pressed his chest to my face-hard.
I can only thank my lucky stars that I was feeling retarded enough to wear my enormous leopard-print earmuffs that day-and they stopped most of his approach.
Finally when the bus came to its final destination, the baffling creature hopped off, unaware of his guilty, dirty deed of having violated not only my decency, my personal space, but also my nostrils. I swear the curry smell was still in my hair by the end of the day, and that incident will still haunt my dreams.”
Who: Youth of New York
Where: Public Transportation
What: Social Conventions
“There are times, living in New York, where I have stopped, frozen in horror from the society around me. It is, in most ways-an immorally lavish kind of place, filled with wild sports fans, liberal scum and socially detached, deviant youth. The kind of youth that gains entertainment from outlets like the serial masochistic viewing of the mental train-wreck called ‘Jersey Shore’, watching the now tragically ironic ‘Music Television’ channel, and religiously pumping unimaginative, robot-y sounding music off of the hell hole that is I-tunes.
And it is exactly this type of socially disconnected youth that should very well be paralyzing most people with half a brain cell with fear. They’re rude. They’re ruthless. They’re detached from reality; and most importantly-all accepted social conventions of yesteryear have been thrown out of the window for a more progressive approach to life: ‘Fuck it, they’re gonna do it anyway.’
Education on how to make one’s healthy debut into the mainstream public and being around people has ceased to exist with the dawn of the ‘Park Slope Kids’ Era [Also Known As: ‘The Death of No’]-and has opened up a new age in devolution. Hey, I’m not from the Victorian Years; but there’s nothing wrong with being a little bit of a tight ass when it comes to being in public. Not only this, but the new advent of anonymity on the internet has quite surely brought down frontal-lobe behavioral activity; and in essence, has turned today’s youth [especially New York youth] into quasi-sociopath stalkers. Kids who play Call of Duty all day and only chat with their so-called internet friends [more like internet fiends] wonder why girls won’t date them-and equably, girls wonder why there aren’t any normal guys out there anymore. Well, I’ll tell you why, folks: Chances are that when you’re gulping down Mommy’s cookies between levels on Online Play for the fortieth hour instead of going out and socializing-you just might gain the magical power to yes-deflect vagina!
It’s exactly this type of encouragement from society that leads to my quite disconcerting plight in a public bus. I, as usual am doing my thing: Looking fine and minding my own damn business. This is, until a three-foot tall Indian man-child approaches my seat, and proceeds to latch himself on two-not one-seat handles on either side of my chair.
This puts me into and awkward position, you see folks? Considering this kid’s at nipple level with my eyes as I’m sitting down. That means that to hold on to both handles on either side at the same time, he had to stretch himself a little thin.
But that does not mean the kid has to then rub his crotch all over my shoulder over the course of the next forty-five minutes. I mean, c’mon, ladies and gentlemen-the bus ride was not so turbulent that he had to stand there, practically resting his balls on my shoulder all ‘Polly Wants A Cracker’ as he humps back and forth in a not-so discreet manner.
Terrified and slightly confused, I sit there, unable to do anything as I am so mortified. Oh, and the fact that I was reluctant to open my mouth due to the fact that this man-bear-pig smelled to high heaven of a volatile mix of curry and an unforgettable personal musk. Good God, I prayed to every deity imaginable to get this kid off of me, but it seems like the Big Guy upstairs had some laughs planned instead.
Instead, the kid starts to pretend to lean forward to see what’s going on in the front of the bus-which is, nothing. He proceeds to lean all the fucking way in to my face as the bus turned a corner and pressed his chest to my face-hard.
I can only thank my lucky stars that I was feeling retarded enough to wear my enormous leopard-print earmuffs that day-and they stopped most of his approach.
Finally when the bus came to its final destination, the baffling creature hopped off, unaware of his guilty, dirty deed of having violated not only my decency, my personal space, but also my nostrils. I swear the curry smell was still in my hair by the end of the day, and that incident will still haunt my dreams.”