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I don’t know what it is about society anymore. Is it just me? Have I become old and intolerable? Or is it just that people seem to have become irrational and childish? It’s as if every nutjob and their mom seems to have an opinion on everything and are never wrong. No matter how grammatically skewed, factually erred, and just flat-out wrong they are. Because, damn it, they are going to caps lock your ass into next week regardless, bro!

Example time which will probably ruin your meal or drink of the day. As crazy as this story may sound, it actually happened several years ago in my quaint, backwards, slightly trashy hometown of Joliet, IL.

A woman was breast-feeding her child of a questionable age. He was four years old. Yes. You read that right. He was four. I wish he really was four months, but he was four years old.

She was in a Starbucks and was getting some pretty awkward glances. I pretty much was ignoring her, like I do most stupid people, until they bring the world into their tiny existence, demanding attention. Once that happens, you’re asking for all hell to be wrought upon you. It’s your own fault for what spills out of my mouth. So, mind you, she’s sitting at a table, on her cell phone, speaking aloud, about the “Bitches be giving her looks” because she’s breast-feeding a child that is obviously old enough to eat on his own. Now, she continues on with this banter and says, “They ain’t got no right be judgin’ me and how I mother my child. He’s got nothing wrong with him. He’s goin’ to be a Jedi or somethin’!”

I nearly lost it. I laughed so hard I hurt myself, which consequently stopped the phone conversation immediately, as her eyes were shooting daggers directly at the back of my head.

It was like a classic scene in any old western movie. Two gun slingers facing each other at high noon; the hero versus the outlaw. One at each end of the long, dusty road stretched out between the two of them. A flock of white doves flutter through in slow motion and the bystanders peek around their laptops and coffee cups in sheer terror at what may be a seriously bloody scene. She grinds her gritty yellow teeth in disgust, shoving her man-child aside, her tit hanging out of her shirt, and letting out an exaggerative “Excuse me?!”

I smirk. Taking my coffee in my hand, thanking the barista before turning around and realizing the entire Starbucks is dead silent. I sigh and begin what will inevitably be the ending of a damning injustice of this womans life. “I just find it funny that you have to try to verbally and visually insult every patron in this establishment.”

“What do you mean?!” she strikes back.

“Well, you’re mooing loud enough on your phone, begging for someone to fight with. It’s quite obvious. Especially with your titty talk about your child.”

“How dare you!”

“No. How dare you! If you’re going to come into a public place, have the common decency to treat people with respect. If you want to breast feed your son and proclaim he’s going to be the next coming of Jesus, at least, for the love of God, try to raise him as such. Instead of how you are now because, honey, the road he’s on now, this train wreck you’ve derailed presently, is not the next Jedi. He’s the next Norman Bates. Good luck with that.”

I smile and I walk away. Her mouth is hung wide open. Her son, the next Jedi, is licking the front window of the Starbucks. The people within are laughing, clapping, and cheering. Her tit was still hanging out of her shirt. Way to keep it classy.

I’ve never been one to sugar coat anything for anyone. This is just one example.

And then I walked off into the sunset, my gun in my holster. The dust kicked up behind me. I never looked back. Just took a long sip off my coffee. This cowgirl had other outlaws to wrangle up in other towns. But first, a nap.