July 11, 2015

ya gotta love it….

I was trying to think of all of the things I have hated during my life.

I used to hate stewed tomatoes, but I got over that decades ago.

I never hated spinach like most kids. Popeye was my cartoon hero. I liked spinach best the way my mother prepared it though, fresh, and steamed just enough to take the backbone out of it and leave it with some texture. I couldn’t stand “school spinach”, however. I hated that. School Spinach was the texture of snot.

While I’m in the food department, let’s talk about asparagus. As a kid, I gagged if I was in the same room with it. I hated asparagus. When it came to mealtimes, my mother was of the old “clean your plate or die” school, but I even got special dispensation from her to take a pass on that disgusting dead plant. Now, I love it. If my mother had lived to see me shoveling down a forkful of asparagus, she’d have keeled over.

I hated my ninth grade algebra teacher, but everybody hated that sonuvabitch, so I don’t really count that. My class was the first to attend the brand new school, and we sat in “modern” individual chairs with individual table desks that weren’t bolted to the floor and connected in a chain from the front of the room to the back, each desk including a bench for the next kid in front of you. Anyway, Mr. SOB was apparently a Marine Corps veteran and had an annoying little ritual of making us stand next to our desks until he would bark “Ready……SEATS!” So, one day during lunch, a friend of mine and I sneaked into the room and stuck “Greenie Stick-on Caps” under the foot of each chair leg. The only downside was that my class wasn’t scheduled for Algebra after lunch.

Other than him, I can’t think of too many people that I have disliked that much. I’ve always had a quick temper and an eclectic vocabulary to give it wings, and I’ve been thankful for fast sneakers and big friends on more than one occasion. Some people and I just plain were never meant to be in the same place at the same time, but life happens. Nevertheless, I don’t recall “hating” any of them, even though I rattled off some rather unpalatable pedigrees for a few.

Academically speaking, I hated just about everything in high school except Art, Shop, and believe it or not, Chemistry. I wasn’t very good at Chemistry, but one could do some really cool stuff with some of the things in the lab. Besides, there was this girl at the next station….curled my 18 year old earlobes and turned them beet red, she did. Anyway, I thought it was clever to dribble sulfuric acid on my lab partner’s towel, among other things. And he and I discovered that if one removed the stoppers from these two vials on the shelf and left them off long enough and close enough together this neat little cloud started to form in the air. Unfortunately, highly toxic precipitates were not appreciated and that behavior was never repeated. All other classes, I hated.

The only course I encountered in college that earned my ultimate rancor was a Sociology class I had to take in my Junior year. The professor had written one of the books, and the poor man was a complete yawn. He could have put cement to sleep. After two classes, I found myself going to the beach instead. Around the middle of the semester I received a curt message in my student mailbox informing me that if I didn’t show up for the mid-term I’d be dropped and failed. I actually had forgotten about the class; one of the burdens of doing a summer semester at a college in Florida. I hated that class, but I survived it. Oddly enough, I got a “B”.

I’ve hated spiders for 71 years. I’ve established a questionable truce with them in recent years, however, sort of along the lines of North and South Korea. If the critter doesn’t get into “my space”, I’ll usually leave him alone, especially if its just a little one or a daddy long-legs. Those big goobers are a different story. We lived in a old house a stone’s throw from the river for fifteen years. It had a detached barn that had been a blacksmith’s shop a hundred years ago and it made a fantastic workshop for me. It also produced spiders that should have had license plates. If you haven’t met a Maine barn spider, good for you. I even hate talking about them.

Back during my Grizzly Adams incarnation almost 40 years ago, I decided it would be a great idea to live back in the woods. There was a lot of that stuff going around back in the seventies, and I had to give it a shot. I bought eleven acres of land a half mile in from the paved road on an old logging trail and contracted with a guy who needed to have a small barn taken down. I was to do the job in exchange for whatever I could salvage. I ended up with more than enough to build a small cabin and an outhouse, but it cost me $60 to have some guy haul off the stuff I couldn’t use. Anyway, crawling around in the upper reaches of that old barn was an adventure, to say the least, and that was when I met my first Maine barn spider. I was straddling a beam extending out from the loft, holding a wrecking bar in one hand and the beam with the other, and all of a sudden there it was, not two feet in front of my face. Attila the Arachnid! I went catatonic.

Instinct took over, I guess, because I executed a “lunge” with that wrecking bar that would have made my fencing instructor proud back in college, launching that juicy three inch horror from his web. I’ll never forget the audible “splat” it made when it hit the floor down below. I hate spiders, especially barn spiders.

Regardless of what the movers and shakers of the twenty first century may hold to be true, both the self-anointed and those who actually warrant the designation, it is normal human behavior to experience a full range of emotions, including hatred. It’s OK to hate. Trust me! Besides, all charges of violating federal Hate laws are based on presumption and hearsay. And even if some doofus on trial signs a document stating “Yup, I hated the bahstid,” there can be no proof beyond a reasonable doubt. What is not OK, however, is to engage in “hateful behavior”. You know, like assault and homicide. If someone beats the tar out of me (which happened one time in college outside of a bar), my assailant’s opinion of me would have no bearing on my injuries. The guy who cleaned my clock back in school by the way, “hated” me, because I was wearing a fraternity jacket and walking in “his” alley. His emotional pathologies were irrelevant, however, and would be equally irrelevant today, in my book. His actions, however were both injurious and illegal.

Not hating might actually be more harmful than being honest about that unpleasant neurochemical circumstance.

Let’s face it. This whole obsession with “hate” is based on asinine science. If one has strong, negative mindset about some person, place, food, insect, or academic endeavor, it is real and pretending it does not exist does not change the fact that it does. Most body functions freely exist and occur whether or not the host acknowledges them. Far better one should recognize the unwanted (fill in the blank) and deal with it appropriately, i.e. in accordance within the generally accepted parameters of the society.

When I feel “hatred“, which is extremely rarely, I find I am far less likely to act on it badly if I man up to it and seek more acceptable outlets. Profanity is a phenomenal way to spend a gutful when there is nothing around to break that I don’t need or treasure.

In conclusion, I would encourage people to be willing to own negative emotions, feelings, opinions, and ugly socks. None of it matters. Whether one Hates another human being or is hormonally obsessed with one matters not. What matters is how one responds to those circumstances. As far as the socks are concerned, they’re fine, too. Its just not advisable to wear them on a first date or to work on the day of your annual performance evaluation. …Strike that last one.

Oh, and I hate tofu, also. I almost forgot. That crap has no right being sold in the food department. It should be stocked with household chemicals or auto parts.

If you hated reading this, I don’t care.


~-~* * *~-~



I'd like to hear your side of the story...

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s