The Will to Resist

🗂️ R.A.B.B. Entry #081 — The Price of Stupidity

R.A.B.B. Entry #081 — The Price of Stupidity

Some nights, I don’t need much. Just a ride home, a moment of quiet, and a chance to shake off the weight of the day. But no — life always finds a way to test me.

I’m dead tired after grinding all day, and my phone decides to prank call 911 from my pocket, then lock me out for 15 minutes for “too many pin attempts.” By the time I finally get an Uber, it’s past 11 p.m. The driver? Small talk central.

“Is it Whole Foods?” he asks. I say, “Yeah, but it’s bougie,” and leave it there. But he keeps poking — about the store, about people, about whatever. Fine. Then some motorcyclists blaze past on the highway, and he says:

“You see that? Dangerous as hell.”

I tell him,

“Didn’t pay it no mind.”

Because I didn’t. People are gonna be stupid. It’s not my job to stop them. If they crash, they crash. That’s life.

I even say,

“If you know better, you do better. Not everyone wants to listen to that.”

But this guy? He just keeps going. Talking about death, injury, and how people don’t want to be stuck taking care of someone else’s mistakes. I hit him with:

“That’s the price you pay for stupidity.”

He calls me “easygoing,” and I tell him:

“If you don’t want stress in your life, you remove those who are a problem.”

He goes quiet for a second. Then he says, “I should learn that,” and I tell him, “Yeah, you should.” He laughs like I handed him the cheat code to life. Maybe I did — but that’s just how I operate.

And then, there’s work.

Nothing makes me lose faith in humanity faster than what I find fronting shelves. Half-drunk Remedy Organics bottles — like the ones for “throat and chest” health — stashed behind cereal boxes. Half-empty Simply bottles. Mini energy drinks abandoned in random aisles. Sushi tossed aside like it’s a joke.

Who does this?

I swear, I hope whatever energy these people put out comes back tenfold. Sticky fingers, rotten karma, all of it.

And don’t get me started on SodaGate. I label my sodas. My. Name. Is. On. Them. If someone drinks one again, I’m not saying a word — I’m walking straight to management and unloading. I’m done with this “maybe they didn’t know” crap.

Here’s the truth:

I just want to work, go home, and have some peace. If people want to spiral in their own mess, fine. That’s on them.

Glitch Council Commentary:

“Stop whining. Handle your business.”

“Half-drunk bottles in cereal? That’s gremlin energy I’d happily stomp out.”

“You drink someone’s marked soda, you’re asking for a knife in the metaphorical ribs.”

“Dept. of Petty Affairs is watching. Soda thieves, aisle stashers, Uber philosophers — we’re keeping receipts.”

Boris Thuginski (me):

#RABB #DeptOfPettyAffairs #GlitchCouncil #SodaGate #PriceOfStupidity #MindYourOwnBusiness #BorisApproved