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Only in America can the Court Order you to do Therapy for anger management problems. So that is why I am here. As an amateur
even though you may be tempted to send money I have to insist that you refrain from ruining my amateur status. You see
the analyst also thought that I had anger management problems and recommended that I take up a hobby. This is my hobby.
Having to do a hobby made me angry and having to think of a hobby made me angrier still. I am sitting in the car on the freeway,
all the way over in the fast lane and I am going nowhere. I look around and all I see are big F###ing trucks at 8:30,
right in the middle of the morning rush. "Some of us have appointments", I think to myself. "Some have them in court, others are
bound to be going to their analyst. But I am pretty damn sure that none of the cans of Tuna in the semi next to me have
organized any appointments anywhere. Why can't they keep these trucks off the road during peak traffic. The tuna doesn't
really care if they are delivered at night." Why can't we do what other cities do like Tokyo, Kuala Lumpur, Bangkok and even
Singapore.
This waiting and stopping is driving me mad. Yes they are right I need a hobby but first I need to get my Xanax prescription filled.
Hop over to the pharmacy and there is a spot right in the middle. So I pull up and then a 5' woman pulls up in huge Ram Pickup truck
on my right blocking me in. She hops out and runs in and comes out with a single pack of cigarettes, talking on the phone, holding a
small Chihuahua and wearing a pink blouse, pink sun glasses and a pink hat. I am sure glad that she got that big truck to
ensure that she could take the pack of cigarettes home safely. In and out and Xanax in hand I can now return to picking a hobby.
Then to a large truck arrives to deliver Coca Cola to the pharmacy. In the good ole days a regular truck would stop by and
'Harry' would park in a regular spot and bring enough for 3-4 days. Now 'Harry' drives a semi and brings enough Coke for
atleast 18 weeks. I wait but I have my Xanax and 5 pills later start to feel relaxed until I remember the court, the analyst,
the truck, the waiting and the god damned Xanax.
And as I drive out I have an epiphany. An actual real epiphany, I will take up pottery as a hobby. I tried it once and it was
really very soothing and then I think about the word 'epiphany' and how it really irritates me that it isn't spelled epifany, and
every other word like fone and filosophy. We don't say "Did you phorget Phrancis' phlowers?". Each sound gets one symbol, period.
Downing more Xanax and I realize what my hobby must be. If people irritating me all day long is causing me to gather anger then
it follows that if I spend all day irritating other people my anger will go away. So that will be my hobby, I will go around,
venturing into the humanity that irritates me and I will irritate them. The thought of it relaxes me knowing the hobby will work, if
only I knew where to start. Such a big world and so little time. I ponder the possibilities and so the next day, A Saturday, fully
rested I am out at 5:30 in the morning. I go to a small town and find the first 'sale'. The family has all of their knicknacks with
colored balloons and the signs announcing their sale. A small crowd has gathered and I walk across the street around the corner and
enter the driveway. Going up the driveway and standing in front of a large sofa with what looks like a Dog barf stain I look
down and then up and ask the father of the house, "How much?" and he replies "$25.
"Fine" I reply, "But I have just one question how is it secured?" "Secured?" the burley father replies, "Hell just lift it up,
Ryan my son can load it for you". "How is Ryan going to pick up the garage?" "Garage? what do you mean are you crazy no garage,
only the sofa is for sale." "But the sign clearly says 'Garage Sale' and when I asked you the price I was looking at it." "No sane
man is going to want to buy that sofa with the dog barf, I was looking for a garage and you have a sign for a 'Garage Sale'.
Rarely have I seen a man that overweight run or move so fast. Even his wife looked surprised. "Don't you dare go up for the gun
either, Sarge!" she yells. I see that the other early morning crowd, the ones that really buy at these things are going and my
appointed mission completed. This hobby business really works well. There were only two other sales in the town. English was a
literal problem at one and at the other I got the guy thinking that I was going to buy "all of that" when I pointed and then
it dawned on him that I had been negotiating with him for the last 2 hours to buy his yard at his 'Yard Sale'. I kept asking him
"Three hundred dollars to take everything there and go three inches down, right". He got pretty pissed when I told him that
"Yes indeed he was violating the town code by advertising a lawn sale and not selling me his lawn after we negotiated".
At exactly noon I was done with the sales and hungry as a bear so I went to the local McDonalds. "I'll have a one third pounder,
number three." "Do you want that supersized?" "Yes thank you I will take it as a two-fifths pounder". It took some time before it
dawned on her that I was expecting the burger to be, in fact, increased in size.
Clearing up the rest of the order took some time. "No we only supersize the coke and fries" "Oh I see", I said, "in that case I would
like to have bigger coke and bigger fries added to the unchanged one third pounder." By this time a crowd had gathered behind me, I
only could hear the rumbling. "No the burger is the same size, the coke is in a larger cup and the fries are increased in how many we
take and put on your plate". "Oh in that case I would like a normally sized one third pounder, a volume increased coke and a
high quantity increased french fries although I have to say that is not at all like 'super sizing' it". "Fine where do you want to
eat it here or take away." "Well I don't really think it would be convenient to eat it here, there are atleast twenty-five very
determined people who want to order, can I take the food and eat at one of those tables over there?"
It didn't really seem like a good idea to eat much of it as I couldn't be sure what the people would put in my food but they
never touched the coke so that seemed OK. Irritating all those people I could feel all my anger slip away.
But before I left one of the crowd that had been standing and was now sitted all around me and stared at me like a foreign
intergallactic visitor finally asked me, "are you disgruntled or something buster?". "Why no, Buster, I am completely and
totally gruntled. I have been gruntled since I was 5 and took gruntling classes in Jr. High. During High School I was completely and
totally gruntled. In fact I was voted most gruntled". They looked at me and wondered if I was telling them about something that
everyone but they knew about, this gruntling business, or if I was a mental case. But the hobby thing was working and I mean
really working, no more anger at all. I think both the therapist and the Judge will be quite happy. It was really amazing.
No, I don't really think anyone could ever have seen the tremendous therapuetic power of going out and irritating people. It made
every piece of tension just melt away. I was feeling euphoric, and I didn't even mind that it was spelled with a 'ph'. It just
seemed that I had turned a corner and as I was leaving the small town I was riding high, and there was no Xanax or alcohol, just
sailing on a cloud of bliss.
Can't recall when I saw the motorcycle cop pull up behind me. I pulled over and I recognized the officer from the garage sale.
"Leaving town sir? My daughter called me from work in tears and told me there was some crazy fellow ruining her first day and
irritating everyone at the restaurant. For some reason I thought it might be you. License and registration, please sir."
"No problem Sargent. What are you stopping me for?" "You were going 50 in a 25 back there." "Well that doesn't seem right I was
going 25 and my GPS records my speed, Sargent." "OK then you failed to stop completely at the stop sign." "OK", I said "then
in that case write me up but I have a couple questions. First how many policeman does this town have?" "Just me" "Then I really
need to ask you why did you make yourself a Sargent. Why not make yourself a Lieutenant or a Captain, or a Colonel or better yet a
General?"
To tell the truth I thought his blood pressure was going to burst a capillary in the guy but he calmed down and started writing
only he never finished that ticket.
The curve we were on hid us pretty good and just as he started writing in earnest I could see the Big Ram Pickup Truck come around
hanging the curve at about 65 miles per hour. I pulled the Sargent close to me as the driver was close to the middle of the road
entering my lane a little. I looked up and saw the short woman with the pink blouse, pink sun glasses and pink hat talking
into her phone and holding the dog. It took that cop car right off the road. Fortunately no one was hurt. After everything
really calmed down Sarge and I had dinner with his daughter and I told him I would help if there was a trial.
Didn't take but a few weeks before I was called by the attorneys. I told him that the woman had definitely crossed the line.
I didn't tell them that the Sarge had parked his car over the line too. I had continued to carry out my hobby and I was
cruising around in a good mood. Hobbies are great for anger management. I had to hand it to the judge and the analyst.
They both got it right. Well it was time for me to be sworn in and I did it no problem and I was really going in there with the
intention to be a good boy and all. But then the Prosecuting attorney said to me "Now tell me in your own words exactly happened
on that Saturday?" I couldn't really believe what I heard so I asked him to repeat it. Sure enough he repeated it word for word
not missing a beat. Well I thought about all the things that had happened, the trucks, the Xanax, the super size,feeling gruntled
and then I took a deep breath and said "mriggle bractlosit rashtantric fractic opplewith." They all stared and I stared back for
really about 5 minutes. After a couple more tries they figured out that in my 'own' words was not that helpful and I got an earful.
Yes I got 6 months with an ankle monitor for that. Now I have to irritate people on the internet. Thanks for helping with my therapy.
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