It happened again yesterday. I was walking briskly to one of the area’s many pharmacies in order to purchase something that might take my mind off the aggravation that comes from having to listen to an inordinate number of dumb people complain to me about how they feel about the work the Army of Reason and myself are doing. I was planning on buying a Coke and a bottle of isopropyl alcohol – the former for drinking, the latter for throwing into the eyes of the next person who decides they need to tell me their opinion on anything. Anyway, as I neared the busy square in which the pharmacy is nestled my ears met with a familiar sound: the incessant ringing of a bell, the clatter of which everyone in the immediate area was trying to ignore. The Salvation Fucking Army.
I know, I know, it’s to be expected this time of year. Everyone and their adopted brother (who they’re secretly ashamed of) is in the spirit of giving during this the time God makes his Creation feel most guilty about its prosperity. I’m not going to complain about charity per se, because I’m sure that my reasoned arguments would be wasted on the kind of dullards who throw their money away and see nothing in return for it. But I do take issue when a charitable organization sees fit to launch a pre-emptive aural strike on me.
As far as I can tell the Salvation Army’s concept of how a successful charity works can be summed up in a simple equation: Noise = Money. For anyone who has any kind of respect for the complex and terrifying realm of mathematics this expression is probably painful to look upon, as it is blindingly incorrect. Much like Greenpeace (an organization that believes it is ok to approach and engage me in conversation about issues I do not agree with them on), the Salvation Army has crossed the boundary of appropriate social behavior and has begun actively seeking out the attention of complete strangers. Like all reasonable people I do not enjoy loud, arrhythmic noises, especially those that emanate from a bell in the clutches of an underfed Santa impersonator whose mere existence is an unnecessary drain on society. This is why Target is the best store. Target doesn’t let the Salvation Army stand around in front of their establishments bugging the bejesus out of people who just want to buy things to help ease the pain of living in a world where the Gource isn’t the final authority on matters involving noise pollution.
I know, I know, it’s to be expected this time of year. Everyone and their adopted brother (who they’re secretly ashamed of) is in the spirit of giving during this the time God makes his Creation feel most guilty about its prosperity. I’m not going to complain about charity per se, because I’m sure that my reasoned arguments would be wasted on the kind of dullards who throw their money away and see nothing in return for it. But I do take issue when a charitable organization sees fit to launch a pre-emptive aural strike on me.
As far as I can tell the Salvation Army’s concept of how a successful charity works can be summed up in a simple equation: Noise = Money. For anyone who has any kind of respect for the complex and terrifying realm of mathematics this expression is probably painful to look upon, as it is blindingly incorrect. Much like Greenpeace (an organization that believes it is ok to approach and engage me in conversation about issues I do not agree with them on), the Salvation Army has crossed the boundary of appropriate social behavior and has begun actively seeking out the attention of complete strangers. Like all reasonable people I do not enjoy loud, arrhythmic noises, especially those that emanate from a bell in the clutches of an underfed Santa impersonator whose mere existence is an unnecessary drain on society. This is why Target is the best store. Target doesn’t let the Salvation Army stand around in front of their establishments bugging the bejesus out of people who just want to buy things to help ease the pain of living in a world where the Gource isn’t the final authority on matters involving noise pollution.
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