Complex Numbers

Judge, Mental

2022 continues to live down to all my expectations thus far. Yesterday morning, we got a few inches of ugly, dense, watery sn*w which brought down branches, leaves, trees, and a nearby transformer (the electric kind, not the Michael Bay kind, though I did get to hear it explode). And my home generator picked yesterday to go on strike for higher wages and better working conditions. To be fair, any wage would be higher that what I'm paying it now, but come on, you only have to work like twice a year; get over yourself.

Thus the late blog entry; electricity just returned, naturally, announcing its homecoming with great fanfare (literally; I'd neglected to turn off the ceiling fan after the power cut out) about five minutes after I'd drifted off to a shivering, restless sleep. Oh, did I mention it's 20F out there? It's 20F out there, and everything is covered in formerly mushy, now icy, sn*w. If the power hadn't popped back on in the middle of the night, they'd have had to chip my corpsicle out of the solid block of ice that had once been a house.

Look, I live in Virginia. I expect this kind of shit at least once per winter. It doesn't mean I have to like it.

Anyway, though late it may be, I can now do today's rant for "JAFBG"  [XGC], which is completely unrelated to crappy winter weather, the robot uprising (which is how I categorize my generator refusing to work), or me not getting any decent sleep.

Fess up. Everyone's a little bit judgmental. What is the thing you're quickest to judge someone about?

I might have told this story before, but whatever.

One time, several years ago, I was drinking at a dive in some small town in South Dakota because it was within stumbling distance of that night's hotel. It wasn't bad as dives go; clean, at least, and the clientele didn't look like Klingons after a hard day's battle. There were a few taps, some of which were even some of the better-known craft brews, so I sat at the bar and ordered a Fat Tire and started going through that day's photos on my phone or some shit.

After a couple, I started feeling pretty good despite being in a shitty bar in a shitty town in a shitty state (okay, that's not fair; South Dakota is actually rather nice from what I've seen). This lanky guy comes in, straddles the seat next to the one next to me, and catches the bartender's attention.

"What'll it be?" sez the barkeep, or words to that effect.

"A Bud Light and a water."

And I was just drunk enough to say, out loud, "So, two waters."

The bartender ignored me, and, fortunately, the guy who ordered two waters just kinda snorted, and then ignored me. As opposed to punching me in the face, which is an occupational hazard of drinking at a dive bar and disrespecting someone's chosen libation. Or looking at them funny. Or looking at their girlfriend. Or being from out of town. Or just being there.

The point is, yes, I instantly judge you based on your beer selection.

It's not fair, and I know it, but I'm not perfect (especially when I've had a couple). It's just that I used to drink that swill, too, but then I tasted Real Beer™ and never once looked back. Well, okay, maybe once or twice, if it was free at a party or whatever, just to confirm that I still had a functioning tongue. But if that dive bar had offered nothing but fake American watered-down rice-ass beer, I would have just asked for the water. Or, more likely, a gin and tonic, because I'm not quite as snobby about those.

Once I get over the initial judgement, though, reason sets in. Maybe they don't have a lot of money, and still want to pretend to drink beer. Maybe their palate is about as complex as a doorstop. Maybe... shudder... maybe they actually like it better.

And really, I don't want to shame anyone for drinking what they like. After all, I don't judge people who simply don't like beer at all, or who don't drink for whatever reason. It's just when someone has a choice between Crap Lite and, well, pretty much anything else, and chooses the Crap Lite, my inner judge, jury, and executioner kick in. Well, maybe not the executioner. Like I said, I get over it pretty quickly.

Also, face tattoos. But mostly it's the beer thing.