or WHY YOU DESERVE PISSY SHOES
Once upon a time there was a man named Tarcomed.
Tarcomed was a moderate fellow. He talked a big game about doing what’s right, but when it came right down to it, he just wanted to avoid confrontation.
One day, Tarcomed was just standing there, minding his own moderate business when along came Nacilbuper.
Nacilbuper’s nickname was Pog. He was an irascible, caustic fellow who, quite frankly, didn’t give a fuck. He wanted what he wanted when he wanted it. Period.
Well, Pog saw Tarcomed standing there looking contented and decided that he must put an end to that. This principle was a centerpiece of his philosophy, tavrecnocism. Contented people must be made discontented in a hurry. Otherwise, why would they do any work at all?
So Pog walked over to Tarcomed and urniated on his shoes. Both of them! A long, steaming stream.
“That wasn’t cool!” Tarcamed exclaimed. Well, he didn’t actually exclaim exclaim, as doing so might lead to conflict. He more like protested mildly.
“Whatever,” Pog shouted, a little froth building at the corner of his mouth. “That’s just the way it is. It’s the way it has always been. There’s nothing you can do about it.”
“Sure there is,” Tarcomed scratched his bearded chin. “We can create a rule that says people can’t go around urinating on other people’s shoes.”
“I totally disagree with that rule.” Pog responded. “That’s a violation of my right to do what want. If you start regulating where people can urinate, where does it stop? Today it’s ‘no urinating on my shoes.’ Tomorrow you won’t be able to urinate on your own shoes. Once we start down this road, nobody will be able to urinate anywhere! Then what would life be like? It would be tyranny!”
Tarcomed’s mouth dropped. He thought he had a response, but the best he could do was to say, “What?”
“Political correctness! Cancel Culture! Social Justice Warrior! Benghazi!” Pog shouted, froth flying from his mouth.
“I don’t even…” Tarcomed’s eyes grew wide. “What?” is again all he could muster to say.
Pog contained himself and wiped the froth from his mouth. “If you really wanted to resolve this issue in a democratic way, you would be open to compromise and negotiation.”
“Um…Okay.” Tarcomed scratched his chin with vigor trying to recover from the barrage of nonsensical statements that had just been hurled at him. But certainly Pog had a point. Perhaps it was unfair to just unilaterally decide upon an issue. “I have an idea.” Tarcomed raised his finger into the air. “How about you only get to urinate on one of my shoes.”
Pog pondered this compromise. “I’m not sure if this will fly with my caucus, but I’ll run it by them.”
Both parted ways for the day.
The next day, Tarcomed was standing there, minding his own moderate business when Pog appeared out of nowhere and urinated on his shoes. Both of them!
“Hey!” Tarcomed came dangerously close to exclaiming. “I thought we had a compromise.”
Pog zipped up his pants after squeezing out the last drip of urine. “We decided that we can’t compromise away our freedoms and that your position constitutes liberal overreach,” he explained. “Maybe you should just stop being a puppet of the radical influences in your caucus and we wouldn’t have to pee on your shoes!”
Pog walked away, pausing only long enough to call Tarcomed a socialist before leaving.
Tarcomed just stood there, discontented in pissy shoes.
Note on the Title: Some of you may have noticed that my title steals from MItchell Miner’s famous “Body Rituals Among the Nacerima”. Yeah. Sorry about that. But it was too perfect a title considering the format.
The Mad Sociologist Blog 