Monday, April 13, 2009

Homo Fucktardicus Ground Zero

Homo Fucktardicus Ground zero:


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Within less than a quarter of a mile there on the corner of Dryden and Pacific there must be about 5 Armenian grocery stores. One of them is connected to Armenian mafia money, I think, like King Market in Pasadena, rumored to be connected to good old depressed Serzh Sargsyan. I don't have any hard evidence for this, the former, except the fact that it is way, way too clean to be a real Glendale-based operation and the people who run the place are fat, overbearing, abusive, and totally spoiled degenerates.

For example, I was there the other day, and this fat guy (I know, I said "fat" already, but these people really are fat all around) drove up in a, surprise, surprise, Mercedes, and he started to talk to one of the girls who works there, on her break. She was sitting at a table, having a cup of coffee. She was pretty, but (/and?) she was poor, obviously, working as a cashier. She also wasn't in her twenties anymore, and the stress of being in that, erm, position, I could read from her face, mainly from her eyes.

I was parking the car right in front of the table she was sitting at (probably in violation of a Glendale city ordinance, the tables were set right in front of parking spaces, not that I care much about propriety, but, anyway), and she caught my eye, and held it, for far longer than a woman who is financially secure would. That's how I knew she was poor: she didn't like her job, she didn't like her life, and she was looking at me, a passerby, as a possible knight in shining armor. That's real life. Beyond all the happy hallucinations that television fills people's minds with, real life is sex, drugs, and poverty, meaning being somebody's bitch, and, oh, the night-time gnashing of teeth--but that's another story.

So this dick-head comes out of his Mercedes, holding his cell-phone in one hand and his car keys in the other hand, sporting a gold bracelet, jeans-with-leather shoes, designer shirt, primmed-up like a princess, and obviously an idiot, and starts talking to her. At first, the chatting seemed friendly. Like, Hi, is everything OK, is everything going well, and all that. But towards the end of the conversation the fat-ass dickhead started swinging his car keys and the woman in question started looking tense. Y'all know what I'm talking about. That's Homo Fucktardicus.

That is capitalism in action. The Russian 90's have been imported here, in Glendale, with all of the brutality that went on. If I had the courage, I would have taken the pen that I had in the glove compartment and stuck it right in the bully's eye.

2 comments:

Partev said...

Glandale is a sad place. The nature and weatehr is pretty cool but not the environment. It is full of people who still live in the past. It gave me an impression like the time has stopped.
To my observation ( some years back) there were three types of diasporan communities: 1. still iving in early 20 centuary, 2. living in Lebanses civil war years and 3. from the last days of Soviet Armenia.

parisan said...

Parasitic species are usually small, but the human parasite, which feeds on misery, sucking money from its victims (usually slave-wage workers), often becomes extraordinary fat.

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Good story!