"You foul shill! I should know better. There was once a time in our country's proud history when decent people had the courtesy to put your lot in the public stocks!"

-  from 'Bwing Po, or All the King's Horses: The Life and Times of an All-American Loser in the Waning Days of the American Empire' by Gonzo Strangelove




This one's gonna be kinda rambly and disjointed, cuz that's the state I'm in...

First of all: fuck you, Tully's. Your wi-fi is slow as shit, your baristas couldn't be any more stuck-up if they were nailed to the ceiling, and if I splurge and spend $6 on a drink AND tip (25%) then I think your employees shouldn't give me any lip when I ask for a refill of simple iced coffee. Oh - and why the hell do you have the air conditioning on??? I could etch my name in a mirror with my nipples!


Second: fuck you, bad parents. Yes, I DO mind if your three brats invade my personal space and mess with my shit while I'm up getting the aforementioned refill. It's not cute, and it's not OK. Don't act like I'm an asshole when I ask (politely) if you could please keep your loinspawn from touching my kindof expensive things.


Third: fuck you, hipsters. Back in my day we just called you poseurs. The only thing you all seem to value is smug, arrogant disdain.

Fourth: fuck you, everyone who tries to tell me what I should do/be/change. No, I don't give a shit if everyone else wears darker jeans than I do. Yes, I refuse to wear skinny-legged jeans - I prefer to look like a man because I AM one. Yeah, I wear colors. Just because the sky, streets, and most of the people around here are all shades of grey doesn't mean I have to be. Ya know, fuck conformity.

Fifth: fuck you, passive-aggressive girly boys. Holy Jeebus this place is crawling with them. If you have something to say to me, say it. Don't go over and talk about me with your (often hipster) friends just obviously enough that I can tell. Does that impress the other girly boys? Does it impress women? I know: I'm not wearing tight, dark, skinny-legged jeans. I know: you don't like that your girlfriend is looking at me (probably because, unlike you, I have normal levels of testosterone, visible muscle mass, and can grow a complete non-ironic beard). Seriously, I'd like to pick your effeminate ass up and shake you until your testicles drop.

Sixth: fuck you, group of hobos that are always panhandling me at 7-11. By now, I know all of you by name. Of course I have compassion for your situation. In fact, not that you've ever thanked me or seem to recall, but I've given all of you money and/or cigarettes before. But when you don't remember me from the last time I gave you a hand-out, don't act like I'm the jerk. Was I a bit short with you? Yeah - because you never seem to remember me no matter how much kindness I've shown you, and I'm really tired of being accosted every... damned... time I go to the store.

Seventh: fuck you, economy. I've paid my dues. So, why can't I get a decent job? Oh, that's right, because the rich people have the Jesus-riding-a-velociraptor-while-carrying-a-shotgun-and-an-American-flag given right to plunder the middle and lower classes. My bad.

Eighth: fuck you, Kevin, for being such a cranky bitch today.

P.S. I am truly a lucky and blessed man, and I know it. Don't let this blog post fool you.