There are certain things in life that I do not understand. One. Little. Bit.
I will look at that person, place, or thing, and I will say, either out loud or to myself: “I don’t get it.”
Of course, for four years or so, I said this a lot. In fact, the older I get, the more I seem to say the phrase. I will attribute this to one of two things.
1. I’m getting older and wiser. (Which seems like a bit of a contradiction since gaining more wisdom would result in more understanding). OR.
2. I’m getting older and losing my patience.
Either way. There are things that I don’t get.
Some of them are completely superficial, while others have a significant moral, societal, or global impact. They bother me to no end. And truth be told, a few of these have irked me for a long time, not just as of late.
Take people who wear jeans with multiple tears in them. I don’t get this. Why? I wonder. Is it supposed to look sexy? Or is it supposed to give that person the persona of being a badass? Or extremely clumsy, falling down constantly, shredding their super-tight jeans?
I guess I want my clothes to look like I take care of them and myself.
As children, if we had a hole in our jeans? It would be a high priority to have mom fix it, either with a patch or straight sewing. And even then, we longed for a brand new pair. No. I don’t get holey jeans.
Here is another big irk. Littering.
I don’t get it. What kind of person thinks it is okay to throw their empty McDonald’s bag out of a car window? Or cigarette? Beer can? They must have no comprehension of the word “responsibility.” I know I’m probably preaching to the choir here. But if you eat your Big Mac, you are responsible for disposing of the trash which results from your purchase. Who else do they think should dispose of this? Is that person so entitled to suppose that someone should come behind and clean up after them?
Then, there are the people who put extra thought into littering. They load up their pickup trucks with decaying tires, drive them down some country road, stop just out of sight from some nice country house, and dump the said tires in the land of green.
The things I simply do not get.
All of this came up because I read an article on taxidermy, as I tried to understand the attraction there. First, I don’t understand killing an animal just for sport. That deer, or tiger, or elephant, has a life of its own. It has every bit as much right to be here as we do. This planet was not made for men. It was made for all creatures.
But then, to actually stuff the animal, or the animal’s head, and fix it to a wall, over your favorite chair? Or place it looming, growling, in the corner? Do they do this as some sort of a pissing contest? I don’t understand. I like my animals alive and well and barking at the moon.
Although, I must tell you this. A bit of taxidermy dust. People thought the first platypus specimen was a taxidermied hoax.
It was when a man named Captain John Hunter sent the first platypus specimen back to England in 1798. People thought it was a big trick, that someone had sewn a duck’s bill to the coat of a beaver. They checked the thing thoroughly for stitchwork that might prove that two or three animals had been pieced together.
Oh, but no. It was the beautiful and curious platypus. Duck-billed, web-footed, beaver-tailed, egg-laying mammal. Now THAT, I get.
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“We tend to get irritated when we see somebody doing something that is unusual and unfamiliar to our thinking.”
― Sunday Adelaja
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“I like long walks, especially when they are taken by people who annoy me.”
― Noel Coward
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“I don’t have pet peeves like some people. I have whole kennels of irritation.”
― Whoopi Goldberg
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The huge irks. They irk.
