"Sometimes I like to think about the people I hate.
I take my room at the Hate Hotel, and I sit and flip
I take my room at the Hate Hotel, and I sit and flip
through the heavy pages of the photographs,
the rogue's gallery of the faces I loathe...
...like a general running his hands over a military map—
and my bombers have been sent outover the dwellings of my foes,
and are releasing their cargo of ill will"
Hate Hotel by Tony Hoagland
I gave the poem this comes from to my students for the exam today, and as I was reading it, I could only think of the guy who interrupted me yesterday as I was trying to order a roast pork sandwich from the Cuban deli* for lunch. I was in the middle of placing an order for the sandwich when this guy** comes in and says in a booming voice, "Channel four, do you get channel four? Turn on channel four!" I was shocked at first, and thought something might be wrong, and even the man who runs the deli looked at him in disbelief and asked if a plane had crashed or something. The man, who hadn't stopped talking says, "The Open! The Open is on channel four, can you change it to channel four?"
I gave the poem this comes from to my students for the exam today, and as I was reading it, I could only think of the guy who interrupted me yesterday as I was trying to order a roast pork sandwich from the Cuban deli* for lunch. I was in the middle of placing an order for the sandwich when this guy** comes in and says in a booming voice, "Channel four, do you get channel four? Turn on channel four!" I was shocked at first, and thought something might be wrong, and even the man who runs the deli looked at him in disbelief and asked if a plane had crashed or something. The man, who hadn't stopped talking says, "The Open! The Open is on channel four, can you change it to channel four?"
.......GOLF!!!!? This only solidifies my general opinion of golfers, which is not based on the game of golf, but the opinion that most golfers have of themselves because they are golfers. I should have said something, but that is usually decided in a fraction of a second, and he must not have crossed that line that irrevocably sets me off, but I realized today after seeing this poem that I hate him. I know, "hate" is a strong word. How is this possible? Simple: I can forgive anyone just about anything, and I hate no group of people*** because there is always something good about people or circumstances that drive them to be difficult or unlikeable; however, nothing horrible was going to happen to this guy if he didn't get to see some stuffy white guy tap a ball into a hole with a $400 dollar piece of slag at the end of a stick. I know nothing of this man outside of those few minutes in the deli, but he interupted me mid-order when I was hungry, and I can find nothing redeeming**** in him.
**a-hole.
*** Golfers are not people.
**** Not What JWD
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