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I will not be shamed

Posted by Mick on May 7, 2010 – 11:55 pm

I was embarrassed today.

In my never ending quest to make myself and the world around me a slightly better place than it was yesterday, I feel that the only way to deal with this embarrassment is to share it with you.

I was walking down the aisle of our local HEB.  Actually, it’s one of two HEB’s near us, it’s slightly farther than the other one but it’s a little bit classier.  Wow, that sounds elitist.  I just mean that they have a better selection of products, a bit more variety, a better selection if you will.  They cater to the Riata crowd.  Which works for us, because Tara is a bit of a foodie.  I’m a foodie too, I’m just to lazy to do anything about it.  It’s a win-win scenario.  But I digress.

Tara was going to make tacos, and realized she had no ground beef.  Nor did she have regular beef which she could grind.  Which was cool, because we don’t have the grinder attachment for the KitchenAid mixer anyway.  Now, I realize that some of you out there might be vegetarians, but for us, tacos mean meat.  Tara will do the occasional fish taco.  I’m sure at some point I’ll eat a fish taco.  I’ve made a vow to eat every taco that Torchy’s offers, so I’m committed at some point.  The point is, Tacos Need Meat.

Which is how I got to the HEB.  Tacos need meat, I’m a hunter-gatherer, I was hunting and gathering 2 pounds of extra lean ground beef and what the hell let’s get some cilantro too.  Walking down the aisle, headed for the check yourself out line because I only had three items.  I walked right by an open Express Lane.  An empty open Express Lane.

At this point, I should probably interrupt the flow of the narrative to explain to you that I despise shopping in general, and grocery shopping in particular.  To make this endeavor somewhat bearable, I have taken to wearing what the kids today call an iPod and listening to music as I shop.  I’m happier, and the stupid and rude around me are in far less danger.  It does sometime give me tunnel vision.  Selah.

The girl at the register came and got me, and asked if I was ready to check out.  Yes, I heard her, I keep the volume low enough so that I can hear of someone talks to me.  I’m not a douchebag.  Are you?  That doesn’t always mean I’ll acknowledge you if you talk to me.  I can pretend I didn’t hear you.  She asked me what I was listening to.  And that’s when I got embarrassed.

I was listening to ICP.  That’s Insane Clown Posse.  I’m not proud of it, but there it is.

That’s not what actually embarrassed me.  But it is.  You see, I’m embarrassed that for a few seconds, I was embarrassed to admit what I was listening to.

I chose to listen to that music at that time.  It was not an accident.

Then again, it was ICP.  Some of you have no idea who ICP are.  I have no desire to explain it to you.  If you don’t know who they are, you would almost certainly hate it, and I would be the last person in the world to tell you you’re wrong.  I don’t like ICP.  I almost never listen to ICP… but I have two albums on my iPod because I knew that there would come a day when I would be in the mood for it.  They’re extremely ridiculous, but I’ve got a grudging respect for them.  They know their audience.  They know exactly what their audience wants, and they give it to them.  It’s not a big audience, but it’s a dedicated audience.  These people will not miss a show.  They will buy every album you release, even the crappy filler stuff.  They will buy shirts, and stickers, and they will love you.  They make stupid people happy.  And some days you just need to get a little stupid. And there’s something about a band that is working so hard to be the comic book figures that their fans want them to be.

I guess what I’m trying to say is, I’m not a juggalo, but it’s fun to pretend I am.  And now the albums will go back to being ignored and overlooked, occasionally popping in on a random shuffle.

And if someone wants to judge me for that, who the fuck are they and why should I care what they think?  Next week, I’m loading some fucking ABBA on there.  Deal with that.

What was the third item I had?  I’m not telling.  One hint, although I assure you it’s as close to no help as you can get and still technically be a hint.  Cars.

And now I must to bed, for tomorrow there is pot luck lunch in a cemetery.  And a cousin I haven’t seen in 7 or 8 years.  I’ll probably disappear at some point and write.

Be good to each other.


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