“Tonight I Have Been Your Guest Asshologist” (Prose)

Four coworkers in formal clothing gathered around office cubicles and equipment

by Anton Martin Smith antonmartinsmithwrites@gmail.com or Martinantonsmith@gmail.com

Let me talk of High School-like ultra aloofness’ in old people.

It is a strikingly weird phenomenon despite its dime-a-dozen-ness.

You remember in High School those “ultra aloof” kids?

They did this to falsely boost their image to be seen as “cool”.

Of course this works well in High School.

That’s why it is a ‘go to strategy’ of the juveniles everywhere.

However here’s the weird thing –

I have noticed that there are many old people still doing it.

They’re thirty, forty, fifty, sixty, seventy, eighty and still using the High School ‘Ultra Aloof Strategy’.

This is just sad.

It is backward in the extreme.

You cannot get away with this with semi-well adjusted adults.

It surely can only work with the juvenile or the intellectually sub-normal adult.

You see the logic of the practitioner is this:

In high school because of the natural immaturity – you can steal respect via the ‘ultra aloof strategy’ –

conversely for an old person to get respect – you have to back it up with something you can do very well.

You can’t just f*cking try to steal it via treating people like sh*t via the use of U.A.S.

Yet so many ‘so called adults’ these days are doing this while being mediocre in everything they do.

It is like a modern disease, I think.

The practitioners of U.A.S are stuck in their low brow High School personas forever.

They’ll give you no polite human-to-human cordial respect whatsoever.

No eye contact or very little.

You’ll ask them how they are – they give a curt “fine’.

They walk with a false swagger in their gait.

Desperately engaging in the continual cover up – basically that they suck.

They were at their peak in the social hierarchy as sixteen year olds,

And they’re gonna pigheadedly refuse to look facts in the face,

And pathetically keep wielding out the U.A.S strategy till death calls them.

Meanwhile we still have to deal with these types in the workplaces & behind service counters –

And if we are particularly unwise or naive of course they may be in our very homes.

We as victims are forced to be their ‘quasi high school nerd placeholder entity’ that is the other side of the U.A.S. equation.

Assholes always need a victim – it’s like the law of gravity.

Oh isn’t it hard to live in a world of these types.

You’d think evolution would have weeded them out by now.

But then again maybe we are the weird ones ruining their eternal ‘cool group high school party’.

Perhaps it is us who try to improve ourselves, do the interesting, and are decent that are the problem.

It is we shouldn’t be trying to improve Hell while we are on Earth.

That to them is a big no-no.

This is why we are being punished.

How dare we hold them to account?

This is really how they think.

It’s an admixture of stupidity and arrogance.

So there’s really no way you can change these types.

You just gotta let them burn freely and then write of their ironically high-flying flames.

It’s always good to get thoughts of these things out of the system.

Write it all down son, write it all down – it’s great therapy after all.

Lest one day you forget the disease dubbed “U.A.S” is there in this godforsaken joint at all.

From there it’s just a short hop-skip-jump to then start acting that way yourself.

You will come down with an acute case of U.A.S.

And then ‘Hell on Earth’ has yet another win under its belt.

This is why being self-aware is so vital.

For in life there are three types of garden variety asshole –

Two ‘should not be’ & the other is ‘allowable to a degree’.

One variety is the asshole that never truly knows that they are one.

The second does but is engaged in an extensive prolonged cover up.

The third are assholes, know they are, and don’t deny it at all – they often even warn you.

Obviasly this third kind of asshole we can probably live with best.

Note: the persons I write of – suffering with U.A.S – in this prose are a subset of the second variety.

They are so much worse than the first kind – don’t you think?

Oh this matter has been such a fun journey to talk about!

I really must read up on all the literature on assholes.

And oh what it would be to have a P.H.D. in Asshology!

There I have created a great new term – Assholology.

I can’t wait to call myself “The Worlds More Foremost Assholologist” –

But then again I don’t really need to –

After all – I am already a Writer (very little known – but I still am one).

And incidentally the good ones of us writers are mostly of the ‘third variety of asshole’ –

“We know we are and we will warn you”.

So at least we will never lower ourselves to use U.A.S tactics.

Even two-bit writers at least try to throw some light on this harsh asshole-loving-world.

And surely some of us will in some distant hazy day,

Fully accept the probably unofficial title of Associate Asholologist.

Or am I – as is my prerogative – simply delving into the realms of fantasy again?

Maybe…..maybe.

To put it more plainly – perhaps I am just a guy talking shite about assholes –

Which although sounds like a match made made in heaven –

Certainly should never have been done in the first place.

I apologise – if only I had known what I would write before I wrote it,

I would have never begun.

These are always the risks of these ‘stream on consciousness writings’.

Time to quit while I’m behind.

And as I am (as I am a writer) the ‘third kind of asshole’ I must duly warn you this will happen again.

But I ask you dear reader – perhaps I’ve made some good points no?

For is it not true that those old high school jerks with U.A.S. annoy the feck out of us?

Though we must never admit that to their faces of course.

Thank you my audience for your patience in this odd literary perambulation –

I had better stop lest it indeed become a peregrination.

As my great grandpappy could have said but didn’t

“You can – metaphorically speaking – perambulate about the various assholes of the world –

but don’t dare in your exasperations let it transmogrify into a peregrination”.

Wise words?

Even if I do say so myself?

Maybe…..maybe.

The Asshole-Medico Pact of ’68? (Prose)

Two men in suits shaking hands exchanging money with a pile of prescription medication bottles in the background

by Anton Martin Smith antonmartinsmith@gmail.com or martinantonsmith@gmail.com (i.e. all emails welcome!)

We live in strange times.

Let me explain succinctly and simply.

Not too long ago, annoying people were just called “assholes”.

Nowadays we have the “DSM V”, which sells for profit a whole range of ‘psych disorders’.

You see they ‘grandfathered’ the calling of someone an ‘asshole’ for actually being one,

And replaced it with the ‘psych-o-pharmacological industrial complex’.

All parties to the conspiracy became filthy rich or party-drugged to their eyeballs in the process.

You see now said ‘former asshole’ now has ADHD, Narcissism, Autism or is Neuro-diverse,

You can then put a ‘tap’ on his wallet for life.

(And as a guy who often thinks he has ADHD – I can tell you – I’d rather just be an asshole).

Moreover – a tap can be installed on the tens or hundreds of millions of ‘unlimited tax chumps’ out there.

Now said ‘former asshole-but-now-neuro-diverse’ has the quid-pro-quo of higher self esteem & no guilt to ‘change his ways’.

So in that way it was really a ‘conspiracy’ between the lifelong money men and the lifelong assholes.

This ‘conspiracy’ can be called the Asshole-Medico Pact of ’68 –

For that was the year that the mega-expanded second DSM was published.

And I mean ‘conspiracy’ in the truest sense of the word –

‘When at least two parties agree – often clandestinely – to act together for some mutual benefit or outcome’.

Yes if you put is some toast and ask your wife to hand you the margarine, and the cat doesn’t know –

You are indeed a couple of ‘conspiracy theorists’ and indeed ‘conspiracy practitioners’.

It is a good analogy – because ‘conspiracies’ – both benign and evil happen every second of every day.

So perhaps fifty years later after DSM 2, that’s what we see with the ‘neuro-diversity’ craze.

All we are seeing is the now Andes-like summit of decades growing ‘asshole-medico-pact mountain range’,

Towering above us all, blotting out the sun, and dare I say spiting in our very faces,

Calling us a cacophony of rude names, and lightening our wallets.

Of course – if this assessment is indeed fact – it has ramifications.

We ‘Neurodivergents et al’ will all have to start calling ourselves and others around us simply ‘assholes’ again.

We will also have to apologize more for bad behavior and attempt to make amends and/or reparations.

We will agree that we won’t tap the good folks wallets so to prop up our penchants for ‘lifelong party drugs’.

This I believe is a step to far for all of those of us who were signee’s to the ‘Asshole-Medico Pact of ’68’.

I mean after all why would we?

It’s not at all in our interests!

We’ve been making out like bandits all this time!

It’s been a guiltless seventy year party of high-jerkism, party uppers and stolen taxpayer cash!

Narcissistic Lobsters have been flying everywhere!

I’ll say it again – ‘why would be destroy the Andes’ of our own volution?

The only way to end the madness (pun intended) is if the nice & highly fleeced rise up,

Hide their wallets and simply start calling us ‘assholes’ again and demand better behavior from us.

Personally – I’m all for it!

Yes I was a former drugged-up member of the Asshole-Medico-Pact of ’68,

But I stopped being a signatory to the pact in Twenty-Thirteen at age thirty-five.

So I now have anti-transmogrified back to being ‘good’ again.

So let’s all now agree to call a spade a spade and lets start calling assholes assholes again.

Of course in this piece, I admit that I have highly exaggerated for effect –

But that’s ok, after all my ‘artistic license’ only expired a few days ago –

And only a ‘total asshole’ would pull me up for still using it ‘on the roads’ –

AKA this quasi-drunk-misshapen-literature-town that I sometimes call my own mind,

That you have all had the misfortune of sitting through.

I can only hope the the myriad of legalized black-market pharmaceuticals you are all on,

Have turned it from a boredom-filled hell-scape to an quasi-interesting fun-trip.

By & the way when I said I’d rather be an ‘asshole’ than have ADHD that was a boldface lie.

As if!

“The Crowd” (A Poem)

by Anton Martin Smith antonmartinsmithwrites@gmail.com or martinantonsmith@gmail.com

You should not want to fit in with the crowd.

Do you not know about ‘the madness of crowds’?

Why would you willingly choose insanity?

Not all individuals are sane,

I will agree with you on that measure –

But

At least we know that a true Individual,

At least has a shot at trying to be sane,

And a shot at actually becoming sane.

A Crowd or a mind infected by The Crowd

Is not afforded that that luxury whatsoever.

Of course I know my words will not be followed.

No one reads anymore,

Let alone wisdom-orientated poetry,

Residing in the backwaters of the Web.

Or perhaps that is The Funk speaking.

Perhaps I am sliding into artistic melancholy –

For surely all Poets who talk of people have it as a bedfellow.

And now to segway from surely’s to Perhaps’s.

Perhaps those not in The Mob aka The Crowd have never truly entered it.

The worst Crowds perhaps very much have ‘black hole characteristics’:

Once you enter its ghoulish grasp – perhaps you cannot ever hope escape.

At least not alive that is – be it physically or spiritually or both.

Perhaps do not be a fool to think otherwise.

And so this quasi-sermon of dire warning almost ends.

But I will end on a positive note:

There are reports of Individuals escaping said ‘black holes’ –

Like a basketball they scooted cyclically around The Crowds ‘event horizon’,

And thanks to the Universal Principle of Uncertainty –

Where saved from falling into the irreverable abyss.

Thanks to a quirk written into the very fabric of the cosmos,

They were spat out as Individuals,

Zipping merrily through the cosmos with permanent ear to ear smiles,

Exclaiming all the while:

“Phew – that was close”.

(or Perhaps they said “zounds that was close but ultimately inevitable”)