This week, I'd like to talk about people whose actions condemn them as one of the lowest forms of life on the planet.
I'm not talking about people who pay real money for an Enrique Iglesias CD. As overhyped and as tone deaf as Enrique is, subsidizing his poisonously sappy screeching isn't all that bad in comparison to the actions of the subhumans that I'm thinking about. Some folks familiar with my deepest fears and loathings might suspect that I'm writing about people who pay money to see a Tom Green film. As much as this act curses humanity to the horrible inevitability of yet another Tom Green disaster and as much as it starts me contemplating pulling my own nipples off with pliers just to distract myself from the thought of Tom Green's pathetic idea of humor, this doesn't nearly touch the dastardly deed of the folks I'm thinking about.
This week I'm talking about the human scum who jaywalk with children.
I have nothing against the every-day, garden-variety jaywalker. Waiting for a light or walking to a crosswalk can sometimes be a burden. There are some places in the world where jaywalking is simply a necessary part of life. Take New York City. A cop there once told me that the only way to get a ticket for jaywalking was to actually get hit. To me this is a perfect application of survival of the fittest. As long as you are careful and alert, you will be rewarded with a quicker walk around town. If you're not careful and alert, you will be taken out. I tend to walk the extra few meters or wait the odd minute. But even if do you manage to find a safe place to cross, you can still run into trouble, especially if have your head up your ass. I've had two experiences with such recto-cranial occlusion.
One was in London. I was busy reading a book I'd just bought. A double-decker bus clipped the sole of my boot as it passed, breaking my reverie and giving me an instant case of the heebie-jeebies. The second was in Konya, Turkey. This time I allowed myself to be distracted for a moment. An extended bout of tire squealing brought me back to reality. A headscarved Muslim woman and I exchanged a moment or two of wide-eyed shock.
I relate these moments of life-threatening stupidity as a sort of validating confession. Yes, I can be an idiot, but I am not choosing to be an idiot. Also, the only life at stake was my own. The goat-loving smegma suckers who jaywalk with children are a totally different sort.
As they cradle their kid, hold their little one's hand, or push their stroller, they check the flow of traffic. Then they step off the curb. Either they are consciously putting their child's life at risk or they lack the situational awareness necessary to recognize the inherent danger of the situation. At the very least, they are setting a bad example for their kid. At worst, something bad could happen. What if the kid trips? What if that vehicle is coming a little faster than they expected?
A perfect and horrific example of this, brought to us by the miracle of the Internet, is a video of a parent and child crossing train tracks. The moron adult decides to try and beat the oncoming train. At the last instant, self preservation kicks in and the adult changes their mind. Unfortunately and tragically, the child, trusting the adult's judgment, doesn't react fast enough and is creamed by the train.
This makes me very angry. If you want to take your genes out of play then great. But when it comes to your kid, there is a possibility that, despite your lack of brain, they might turn out OK… unless you kill them by effectively throwing them in front of a train.
Life is dangerous enough as it is, dammit.
Pakeha