I like baseball’s system of ‘inherited runners’. Basically, it means that if the manager brings a relief pitcher into the game mid-inning, with runners on base, then those runners are the departing pitcher’s responsibility. If they score, they’re tacked onto that guy’s ERA, not the new guy’s. And that’s regardless of how terribly the new guy does — he can give up a home run, or plunk batters with errant fastballs, or run amok on the mound with his glove down his pants and his jock strap on his head. No matter — the guys on base are tied to the pitcher who put them there.
I think we need more of that sort of assignment of responsibility in other walks of life. Like work, for instance. So, if the guy who had my job before me didn’t bother to document anything and wrote a bunch of crappy code, then I think it’s only fair that he should get his pay docked when all of that shit starts falling apart. It’s the concept of ‘inherited obfuscation’, and it’s high time we treated it as such.
Or how about in the world of romance? Let’s say you catch somebody on the rebound, coming out of a bad relationship. Shouldn’t it be the ex that gets shut down in the sack for the next six months or more because your partner has ‘been hurt before’? It wasn’t you doing the hurting; why should you be shackled with the ill effects of ‘inherited assholery’? It’s just not right!
I’m also pretty sure that there’s something patently unfair about being forced to grow up without the benefits of butlers and maids and Swedish masseuses, just because your parents couldn’t manage to string together a couple of million dollars before having you. Heaven knows I’ve suffered from this sort of ‘inherited insufficient fundage’, and I’m getting pretty damned sick of it. Isn’t thirty years long enough to be punished for the sorry state of someone else’s bank account? Where’s the justice, dammit?
Man, this is sweet! I can get some serious mileage out of this. I can blame all sorts of things on whoever came before me. I’m not lazy, assheaded, or stupid — I’m simply a victim of things like ‘inherited inertia’, ‘inherited incompetence’, and ‘inherited ignorance’. This is beautiful!
And there’s always a good explanation with this system — anytime I need an explanation for being a pain in the ass douchebag, I can whip out excuses like ‘Not my fault — blame inherited assbaggery,’ or ‘Sorry — it’s inherited halitosis,’ or even ‘Look, it’s not my fault — it’s inherited Jell-O-slathered exhibitionism; now piss off!‘
Ah, yes. This is gonna get me out of all sorts of trouble. Hell, I can even use it around here. If you didn’t like this entry, it’s no big deal — I can’t be blamed any more. Just chalk it up to ‘inherited booberedness‘. Nuthin’ I can do about it, folks. I’m just standing on the shoulders of the cluetarded mouth-breathing bastards that have come before me. What can I do? I’m just one man!Permalink | 2 Comments