Ridiculous Opinions #190
Last night, Tracey and I went to see Tan Dun conduct an orchestra at Emirates Palace. Now, I could tell you about how wonderful it was; how the sound was pristine; how I was proud of myself for not falling asleep until the fourth and final piece of the show (there is nothing more glorious than giving yourself permission to fall asleep in the middle of a classical music concert); or how I have imposter syndrome when I go see shows like this, as if this young, Oklahoma boy doesn’t belong at one of these fancy-schmancy affairs…but I’m not going to talk about that.
I’m going to talk about the little girl who sat next to Tracey who had a disgusting wet cough.
Now, I didn’t notice this cough, nor did I notice the girl. She was sitting beside Tracey, but not me. I didn’t hear her coughing or anything. But during intermission, Tracey leaned over to me and said, This girl is sick! Really sick.
This morning, I woke up and I am now sick.
Now, I could blame this girl for spreading her illness to me at a concert, but I’m not going to do that, because that’s ridiculous. I was around her for a couple of hours and wasn’t even sitting close. I can’t get sick that quickly from something like that.
No, I blame Tracey for getting me sick. She should never have mentioned to me that this girl was sick, because the minute she did, my stupid brain said, THERE IS ILLNESS PRESENT. SHUT DOWN ALL DEFENSES.
We’ve been married 23 years! Doesn’t she know that she shouldn’t tell me these things, because I will psychosomatically cause my own illness?
I knew, as soon as Tracey said it, that I would become sick. And I did. It’s my wife’s fault. How dare you do that to me, Tracey!
Look, if Tracey wants a divorce, she should just say so. But no! What she chooses to do is slowly whittle me down, year after year, in her longterm goal of doing me in. Sometimes, it’s little things, like mentioning someone near me is sick. She’ll pretend she doesn’t know that this will cause me to get sick, but she knows. SHE KNOWS!
She’s trying to kill me in other ways, too. She allows me to eat what I want. Everyone knows you can’t allow me to eat what I want! She should be stopping me!
“You’re an adult,” she says. “You need to learn your own self-control.”
No, I don’t!
She has to be the one to stop me!
“Tracey, I’m going to buy a new phone,” I say.
“Whatever. You don’t need a new phone,” she says.
And then she lets me buy it! Why would she do that? She knows I have no self-control, so why won’t she stop me?
All of this is a part of her grand plan to accelerate my demise. She knows that I have a gold mine of creative material sitting on my hard drive and that she will inherit all of it when I’m gone, whereupon she will marry some attractive man from Central America and live high on the hog from Boyd McCloyd royalties. In fact, I think even my daughters encourage this!
I am surrounded by enemies.
In other news, Zen-Cat is still there.
