I Dont Like Arrogant Rude People
I grew up in a world of left wing extremists. I was a red diaper baby (both parents were in the Communist Party) but a reject from communist youth training and kept out of the loop as far as knowing much about it. I had a miserable childhood with a red queen mother who was the perfect example of the term "elite deviance."
Most of the children I grew up with were chosen ones, much adored by their parents. They saw me as second class although I got along OK with most of them, at least superficially.
Here is a classic if slightly bizarre example of elite deviance and CP snobbery I ran into once at the age of 20:
I was living in a household with several roommates in a large property near the beach in Santa Monica, California. One Sunday morning, I got up and decided to take a shower, then go to the beach for the day. It was early, about 8 AM, as I approached the bathroom.
A woman was standing in the bathroom staring mournfully at the bathtub. She wore a skirt and blouse. Standing next to the open bathroom door outside the bathroom was a young man wearing a suit and tie with a serious expression on his face.
I stepped past him into the bathroom and spoke to the woman, telling her I wanted to use the shower. I could see a large plastic bag sitting in the shower.
She stared at me as if I were from outer space. Then I recognized her! I had met her before. She was the daughter of a left wing celebrity, a man with some serious talent. (Don't want to name him since this isn't about him). I told her I had met her before when she had been with her father as they visited my (left wing private) school when I was a kid.
She stared at me as if I were roadkill or an infestation of termites in a carefully preserved Frank Lloyd Wright home.
I moved on in the non-conversation and told her I needed to use the shower. Was that her plastic bag in the shower? It seemed likely since she'd been staring at it before she started staring at me.
She stared at the plastic bag with a mournful intense expression but said nothing.
The man in the suit answered for her. "That is her clay. It needs to remain where it is."
I looked at him, then back at her. I asked, "How long do you need to keep it there?"
I got the same intense cold stare from her and the feeling I had broken some kind of formal, perhaps royal, protocol by daring to speak to her.
He answered solemnly, "Until Monday at 9:00."
"9:00AM?" I asked. She continued to look at me as if I were a dead rat.
"Yes," he answered.
She was slender, willowy and mysteriously beautiful in a quiet aristocratic kind of way. Within a week I was to lose a boyfriend to her. It occurred to me that I was not going to be using that shower that day.
No one in the household was awake yet that Sunday morning and I knew they would never take my side against hers if I decided to argue about it. She obviously had princess status and a bodyguard sort of guy to do her talking for her.
I will never forget that intense very serious slightly mournful look. I was a squashed bug. She was a princess. I had run into this kind of snobbery before. There [i]are[/i] left wing princesses and I'd known a few. But this one thought she was too far above me in status to even deign to speak to me.
At that point, I remembered that there were some perfectly good sanitary showers out at the beach.
I walked back to my room, got my towel and swim suit and drove to the beach. I had a terrific day at the beach which erased the little red princess from of my mind for a while.
I made it a point to avoid her, and I didn't have to think about her until a few days later when the guy I had just started seeing (it was our third date) told me he thought she was a wonderful person, sweet, innocent and a virgin. He stopped even smiling at me when we met socially after that; he made it clear I was trash compared to her.
When my dad got into trouble in the Communist Party back in the 1940s, I had my red princess status revoked. I spent my childhood with an angry vengeful red queen mom who tormented me as punishment by proxy for my dad who had gotten her in trouble with the Communist Party. I was a red diaper reject, not selected for special CP youth training. My rival, Ms.ShowerClay, was a genuine red princess, daughter of a left wing celebrity.
I actually think her not deigning to speak with me was worse than losing the boyfriend. Her snotty stare hurt my pride, but the guy I lost was really a jerk and not worth it.
I can still picture that nose in the air stare she gave me and the feeling that someone I knew in my social world saw me as a squashed bug.
I looked her up on the Internet recently. And, as is true of all the chosen ones I grew up with, she was doing spectacularly well in life.
The revolutionist aristocrats of the old Communist Party USA. And to think they plan to run the world.
Most of the children I grew up with were chosen ones, much adored by their parents. They saw me as second class although I got along OK with most of them, at least superficially.
Here is a classic if slightly bizarre example of elite deviance and CP snobbery I ran into once at the age of 20:
I was living in a household with several roommates in a large property near the beach in Santa Monica, California. One Sunday morning, I got up and decided to take a shower, then go to the beach for the day. It was early, about 8 AM, as I approached the bathroom.
A woman was standing in the bathroom staring mournfully at the bathtub. She wore a skirt and blouse. Standing next to the open bathroom door outside the bathroom was a young man wearing a suit and tie with a serious expression on his face.
I stepped past him into the bathroom and spoke to the woman, telling her I wanted to use the shower. I could see a large plastic bag sitting in the shower.
She stared at me as if I were from outer space. Then I recognized her! I had met her before. She was the daughter of a left wing celebrity, a man with some serious talent. (Don't want to name him since this isn't about him). I told her I had met her before when she had been with her father as they visited my (left wing private) school when I was a kid.
She stared at me as if I were roadkill or an infestation of termites in a carefully preserved Frank Lloyd Wright home.
I moved on in the non-conversation and told her I needed to use the shower. Was that her plastic bag in the shower? It seemed likely since she'd been staring at it before she started staring at me.
She stared at the plastic bag with a mournful intense expression but said nothing.
The man in the suit answered for her. "That is her clay. It needs to remain where it is."
I looked at him, then back at her. I asked, "How long do you need to keep it there?"
I got the same intense cold stare from her and the feeling I had broken some kind of formal, perhaps royal, protocol by daring to speak to her.
He answered solemnly, "Until Monday at 9:00."
"9:00AM?" I asked. She continued to look at me as if I were a dead rat.
"Yes," he answered.
She was slender, willowy and mysteriously beautiful in a quiet aristocratic kind of way. Within a week I was to lose a boyfriend to her. It occurred to me that I was not going to be using that shower that day.
No one in the household was awake yet that Sunday morning and I knew they would never take my side against hers if I decided to argue about it. She obviously had princess status and a bodyguard sort of guy to do her talking for her.
I will never forget that intense very serious slightly mournful look. I was a squashed bug. She was a princess. I had run into this kind of snobbery before. There [i]are[/i] left wing princesses and I'd known a few. But this one thought she was too far above me in status to even deign to speak to me.
At that point, I remembered that there were some perfectly good sanitary showers out at the beach.
I walked back to my room, got my towel and swim suit and drove to the beach. I had a terrific day at the beach which erased the little red princess from of my mind for a while.
I made it a point to avoid her, and I didn't have to think about her until a few days later when the guy I had just started seeing (it was our third date) told me he thought she was a wonderful person, sweet, innocent and a virgin. He stopped even smiling at me when we met socially after that; he made it clear I was trash compared to her.
When my dad got into trouble in the Communist Party back in the 1940s, I had my red princess status revoked. I spent my childhood with an angry vengeful red queen mom who tormented me as punishment by proxy for my dad who had gotten her in trouble with the Communist Party. I was a red diaper reject, not selected for special CP youth training. My rival, Ms.ShowerClay, was a genuine red princess, daughter of a left wing celebrity.
I actually think her not deigning to speak with me was worse than losing the boyfriend. Her snotty stare hurt my pride, but the guy I lost was really a jerk and not worth it.
I can still picture that nose in the air stare she gave me and the feeling that someone I knew in my social world saw me as a squashed bug.
I looked her up on the Internet recently. And, as is true of all the chosen ones I grew up with, she was doing spectacularly well in life.
The revolutionist aristocrats of the old Communist Party USA. And to think they plan to run the world.
70-79, F
