I Loathe Christopher Columbus (And Some Other Random People I've Never Met)

This past Monday apparently was Columbus Day. Who knew? My mom did but that is only because she has a government job and is one of the few people who had this day off. Every year she looks forward to this holiday and every year I give her a lecture about how dumb it is and why we shouldn’t celebrate it. She stopped listening to me a long time ago.

When I was a kid I used to get sort of excited about Columbus Day, if it meant we didn’t have school. When I became an adult who had to start buying her own stuff, I liked the day a little bit because it meant sales, sales, sales at many of my favorite stores. The thing is, ever since I can remember learning about Columbus, I’ve hated, I mean HATED, even loathed the man and I have no idea why. I can’t tell you any sort of rationale reason why I would despise someone I’ve never met, but if I tried to have a conversation about this person, the hatred in my voice would probably cause you to wonder what the hell was wrong with me.

Even though I can’t explain why I loathe this man, I can tell you that I was thrilled, when, as a kid my mom told me a story about Colombus’s death. Even though I was no older than 10, I distinctly remember her telling me that Columbus was likely buried alive (although I can’t find anything to prove this statement). I think he was in a coma and the people who thought he was dead were merely unable to detect a very weak heartbeat, so the bastard got tossed in a tomb. My mom told me that when they (whoever they are) exhumed his body (I don’t know why this was done) there were claw marks inside the coffin. I guess he woke up and realized he was in a very bad place and tried desperately to get out.

I remember being filled with horror at the thought of being buried alive and also being filled with a sense of glee, yes, I mean joy, happiness, even elation, that Columbus was supposedly buried alive. Now, I am a relatively stable minded person who can be malicious but isn’t usually sadistic and I cannot rationally explain why the thought of some ancient moron who got credit for “discovering America” when he really thought he found India (and we celebrate this because why, exactly?) thrills me.

The compassionate side of me imagines that it must have sucked to wake up from a coma or whatever he was in, and realize that it was very dark and cold where he was. I imagine what it must have been like to try to figure out where he was and why couldn’t he move and then trying desperately to claw his way out of whatever he was in. It’s sick. I know. I really shouldn’t find satisfaction in this, even if I do despise the man.

My Aunt, who believes very deeply in past lives told me that if I feel this strongly about Christopher Columbus maybe it is because we had some sort of connection in a past life. I don’t really like to think about that sort of stuff, but if it is true, then I imagine whatever connection we had, it wasn’t a very good one!

I also have great disdain for other people I’ve never met and likely never will meet, despite the fact that they have done nothing to me. Among these people are Bill Clinton and Rachael Ray.

I know it is almost sacrilegious to say you hate Bill Clinton, but I haven’t really toned down my feelings towards the man over the years. I still loathe the no-good, lying, sleepy-eyed-basset hound and I never understood why anyone would find him attractive, never mind want to suck his dick! As far as that goes, I’d almost rather never have sex again than even think about fellating that pompous windbag! Having said that, I don’t really get my intense disdain for him either. I mean, I did vote for him at least once (I’ve chosen to “forget” if I voted for him the second time or not) and he hasn’t done much worse than so many arrogant little pricks in positions of power have, but still, when I passed by his book, “My Pathetic Life” or whatever it is called, at the library today, I wanted to heave my guts out all over his lecherous face. I have that reaction whenever I see his face, which fortunately isn’t very often!

My loathing of Rachel Ray is about the only one I can somewhat rationally explain. It began when I learned that my lover thought she was hot. For me, it was immediate. She was competition. She was a threat to our sanctuary, our relationship. Until I managed to shame my lover into no longer openly admitted that Rachael Ray is hot and has great tits, I was tormented with nightmares of her. Of course it didn’t help that my lover once admitted that she was on the” Celebrity Top Five People To Fuck If The Opportunity Ever Presented Itself” list.

“Ah ha!” You say, “So there’s the problem. You feel threatened.” Well, yes, in a way I do but it is not because my beloved wants to bang someone else, but because that someone else is Rachael-Fucking-I-Can-Make-Dog-Shit-Taste-Good- And-Smile-While-Children-Die-Of-Malnutrition-Ray! I don’t feel intimidated by Kathy Ireland, who has held the number one “Celebrity Fuck” spot since my lover was in high school. At least Kathy is hot, hot, hot, has red hair and is, or at least portrays herself as a highly intelligent, business savvy, I-Can-Conquer-The-World-In-My-Sleep kind of woman.

I feel threatened by Rachel-fucking-Ray because she is so much that I am not and never freaking will be! She is petite and perky, rich and friendly, can out cook me any day and is so goddamn optimistic I just want to grate her expensive plastic surgery smile off her face while simultaneously deep frying her airhead laugh and roasting her eye balls over an open fire (which was created with all of Bill Clinton’s books!). Besides, what the hell does Rachael Ray offer the world besides stupidly named dog food, more useless cookbooks and monthly magazine covers where her tits are the main feature?

My loathing of her is perfectly rational and it makes far more sense than my visceral loathing of Columbus. In my defense, at least I don’t want to bury her alive or vomit on the cover of her books!

Really, there might be something wrong with me for how strongly impassioned I can become about these people I will never meet, but before you write me off as a callous, threatened lover, a snarky bitch (well, I might like that one) or just plain insane, maybe you could take an afternoon or two to think of people you loath that you’ve never met. Brittney Spears…Paris Hilton…George Bush…Dick Cheney…Mother Theresa…? I’ll bet you have at least one or two people you loath that you’ve never met…so come on...‘fess up!