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Tuesday, November 23, 2004

Berg's Spite Camp

(Thunder only happens when it’s raining, lovers only love you when they’re playing)


ugh, The relatives are coming over for Thanksgiving.

Not all of them thank god, but just a couple.

It’s not that I hate or dislike them, its just that there is this never-ending awkwardness towards people I don’t know but are still my flesh and blood.

My Mom is all trying to be like Mrs. Cleaver with her, ‘were the best little ole’ family’ routine and my dad is trying to be Mr. Cool. The bro is actually one I can relate a little bit to, and he does a good job of just showing the family what he’s been up to since last time.

It’s not just ‘these’ family members either; it’s from both sides.

Everytime we end up going to Wisconsin to visit my dad’s sister, there are always secrets that are made that wind up going towards me. Stuff that usually should be left unsaid.

Now in the past when I have been nagged, I usually nip it in the bud with a little,
“SHUT UP AND GET THE HELL OUTTA MY ROOM!” and that usually does the trick. I’m with David Stern for that I always make an example of what not to do/say as far as ‘my stuff’.

Relatives don’t understand that because they don’t know me, and they think these are harmless questions they ask.
“So, why don’t you clean up your room?”
“Why don’t you wash your car every Saturday?”
“Why wont you admit that the Packers are God’s team?”

Basic questions yes but if these are genuine questions, get the fuck off of your soapbox and worry about your own damn life! If my room is dirty, let me deal with it. After all I’m the one who sleeps in there. If my car needs to be washed, you can make the damn payments and cover insurance for me and then wash it! If the Packers are God’s team, did they just take a break throughout the 70’s and 80’s?

Still it’s petty.

But the relatives act like they’re the moderators of huge miscommunication lost with the family.

I’ve never understood the value of an uncle or grandparent because I’ve never really known one. It’s hard to even tell I’m related to them without being told so. Still, I don’t feel any connection to them. They’re more or less strangers that I meet every year.

So, I’ll probably be at the table on Thursday and get bombarded with these questions. The immediate family will probably join-in thinking that there wont be an outburst since there’s company.

Pff whatever man.

It’s especially troubling because I’m all about keeping the population down and I tend to believe that couples who have more than two kids are really god damn selfish. (Why do you need more than two kids?)
Then there’s my mom’s side of the family that grew up on a farm. As much as I try to dissuade myself this logic it seems that it was a family where one of the main reasons for producing kids was to have extra help cleaning the hog pens, mowing the lawn, and feeding the cattle.

Which is enough to make my head explode.

I know, live, and understand the notion that people come and go meaning that they go…permanently, but when the family just keeps coming back. The notion doesn’t work if you see them every damn year.

Whatever…

Since hackin’ up my inner troubles I thought I share my trouble with spite.

It’ve actually spited only a couple people in my lifetime. I find it to be more effective than jumping in the stands and beating the hell outta someone. When I do, I end up not talking to them at all because I don’t care to acknowledge them. These instances have always stemmed from blatant attempts of being an asshole and/or someone trying to hurt me for no apparent reason.

I’ve known to ignore people for a couple days, a week, and even close to a year. I’ve in the middle of a current ‘spitant’ and it’s nearing it’s end because I just can’t spite someone that long!

I mean I keep thinking it’s an endurance thing. Like I need practice spiting and after awhile I’ll be so good at it that I’ll obliterate the whole world for longer than nine months.

Is spite an appropriate way to live life? In the beginning it sure as hell seems so. When it ends it sure as hell doesn’t.

Maybe that’s how I can become a millionaire, a spite camp.

[COME TO BERG’S SPITE CAMP WHERE YOU CAN EVEN LEARN TO SPITE BRETT FAVRE: WISCONSIN’S NEW JESUS]

it’s a start eh?

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