Random Railings From the Island of Misfit Toys

Corporate America breaks us and then consigns us to the garbage bin. I think I would be ok with this if I weren’t the one beaten for being a misfit.

The friendly neighborhood Tired Blogger is going to just rant and rail today. I hope all of you find that ok.

The above image was absconded from maketoonist.com. I mean no infringement, but the guy makes my point perfectly.

I can hear most of my friends now. “Don’t rock the boat. Sit down you fool, you’re going to sink us all.” And that is what the Tired Blogger has always been best at. “Be quiet, Daddy needs sleep.” “Be quiet, Mommy has a headache.” “Be quiet. Daddy is drunk and killing mad.” “Be quiet, Mommy has the whipper stick and if you make a sound she’ll give you a reason to cry.” “Be quiet, children should be seen and not heard.” “Be quiet, some people don’t like that style of humor.” “Be quiet, it is disrespectful to interrupt your betters.”

Anyone who has had a difficult job involving the public can identify with this guy. Scott Seiss has become a TikTok sensation. He is funny, but we love his content chiefly because he says what we would love to say, but have not dared, for fear of losing our jobs. Check him out if you get a chance.

We know we belong on the Island of Misfit Toys. We know you think we should just go away. Do what we’re told. After all, we live by your grace. You are the lords, we are the serfs. We live to serve you, don’t we? We are not people. We are not men. We are simply the props to your best actor. We are tools you can use and then dispose of when you are done. You are the hero of the story. We are just sad extras that can be exploited to your whim.

Your parents and grandparents succeeded in breaking our parent and grandparents. And because of this you deserve respect, honor, money, women, fame and praise.

And we deserve pain. We must, since life gives us so much, and what is life if it is not just? You broke us, and now you think we will just limp softly away, whimpering for the mothers who did not love us.

We are the dead, and you are the living. Let the dead bury the dead. The living will have another margarita and talk about how much they love Batman.

Who is the villain, who is the hero? Can either of them really tell. This image is from some amazing fanfiction about Batman, taking the story all the way back to 1919. Check them out if you like that kind of thing. Tell them the Tired Blogger sent ya.

Look, I get it. I always wanted to be the hero too as a kid. I wanted to play Batman, I wanted you to play the Joker. The difference between us two is that I got the sh-t kicked out of me by life. I had to the role handed to me that you determined I was to play. You won. I lost. But instead of putting the game of Monopoly away and resetting with an even playing field so we can play fairly again, you insist on keeping Boardwalk next time and next and next. To quote Meatloaf, “It’s not a game, its just a rout.”

Don’t worry. I’m almost done with this post. We are helpless. You never will have to listen to us. You have the law on your side, the money on your side, the media, big tech, big pharma, everything.

We are nothing. We are the dead.

You set up clowns like the Q-Anon shaman, took them down, and said you took us down. You smile on the camera and insist you are the good guys, we are the bad guys.

We are not Q-Anon. We do not want fifteen minutes of fame. We don’t care about Nancy Pelosi’s desk. We are the Misfit Toys you made.

We listened to your audiobooks. About how we should stay positive and do more work than we were paid for and you would promote us. You would redeem us of our sins.

Wanna know how I got my scars? You should know, you put them there. Why so serious? Surely you knew it was all just a gag? Jokes on you. When it all collapses like a house of cards…joker’s go wild.

Don’t worry, your friendly neighborhood tired blogger is just too tired. Hopefully the rant was more entertaining than disturbing. If you were disturbed, we have a hotline you can call for anyone traumatized by my writing. Call 1 (888) BITEME2 and qualified therapists will listen to your whining….Hopefully next week I can finish my post about the Civil War.

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