Let's talk about guns and knives

     People who know me personally are probably aware of the fact that I'm a pretty liberal person. I generally have no problem with homosexuality, religion, or the government monitoring my emails and text messages. What a lot of people aren't aware of, however, is that I'm also a pretty staunch advocate of the 2nd amendment. To anyone who isn't familiar with the U.S. constitution, that means that I believe that people have the right to own guns.
     When people hear someone say "2nd amendment," they generally begin to stir up a big shit-storm like a fat 8-year-old who put way too much chocolate powder in a glass and started to swirl a spoon around.
     Let's make one thing clear: we live in a pretty fucked up world. Guns play a large part in why there's so much murder and other violence in the world. There's no denying it. Guns exist and, if someone wants a gun badly enough, they'll find a way to get it. You think that theater in Colorado wouldn't have been shot up if there were more strict regulations on guns? You're a fool. If you really believe that it's that hard to get your hands on an AR-15, I sure hope you own one and are getting ready to make a bowl of soup with your skull and a hollow-point.
     It's inevitable that you, or someone you know, will be involved with guns at some point. No, you probably won't get shot, and neither will your friends or family. But you'll be involved in a situation at some point where you'll think to yourself, "man, I could have avoided all that if I just would have laid a piece on that fucker."
     I'll give you an example.
     In late May of this year, I was riding my bicycle home through a residential side-street in a suburb called Lake Oswego. My head and tail lights were on, and I was clearly visible to anyone paying even the slightest modicum of attention. So, I'm taking a side street through this area, and I come to slow myself at a 4-way stop (because in Portland, the law states that a cyclist only has to YEILD at a stop sign before crossing). Suddenly, I saw a white truck pull up about 8 inches beside me and stop. Had he gone any further, his passenger's side mirror would have collided with my shoulder and knocked me to the side. I looked him in the eyes and gave him that look that most people would classify as the "dude, are you fucking kidding me?" look.
     On a side note, I'd like to make clear that in Oregon, as with most other places, the law states that any vehicle has to give you one full meter of room on either side, regardless of a cyclist's position on the road. That means that, if I feel like it's necessary for my safety, I can ride in the middle of the lane and you're not allowed to pass me unless you give me 3 feet.
     So, I chose to believe that this gentleman in his truck was just some asshole and wouldn't fuck with me again. Obviously I have too much faith in people, because he proceeded to speed past me and park his truck in my path. I crossed him on the left, this time, so that I could pass safely without a collision.
     As I passed, I noticed he had his window rolled down and I stopped. I said, "where's my three foot, man?" to which he responded "aren't you assholes supposed to stop for stop signs?" At this point, I simply nodded and proceeded to ride along.
     To his credit, he stopped at all the stop signs along the way, and didn't manage to catch up with me until I reached a rather large intersection that was occupied by a lot of traffic. This particular intersection was notorious to me for being incredibly dangerous and, cold and wet as I was, I decided to wait until I saw a safe opening to pass through. Unfortunately, this irate motorist caught up with me and knocked into my back wheel, just slightly. No, I wasn't thrown off balance, but I was jarred enough to notice. He then killed the ignition in his truck and stormed out in a huff. "You bikers think you're just the top, shit, don't you? What the fuck did you think you were doing back there?" he said. I replied, "just following the rules. Get off it, dude. I'm cold and wet and I want to go home and get drunk."
     Shit hit the fan right about here. The driver proceeded to grab me by the shoulder and pull me away from my bike. My bike fell to the side and I stumbled over it into a puddle, with my arm still in his grasp. Adrenaline started to pump in a way I had never felt before.
     Now, I'm not a fighter. I don't like to be confrontational when it isn't necessary. The only times I've ever been in fights, they consisted of a single hit followed by me sitting on someone's shoulders until they decided they'd had enough. I'm not a tough guy and I know myself well enough to know that, in a real fist fight, I'm fucked. What I can say for myself, however, is that I'm quick. So, when an opening presented itself, I tucked myself in and escaped this asshole's grip, and asked him what the fuck his problem was.
     He posited that all cyclists were criminals and assholes. I'm sure that, were I a black man, he would have probably called me a nigger, too. He had that kind of face. You know, that kind of face that looks like it's been waiting all day to issue someone a horrifying racial slur. I ALMOST wish I had provoked him a bit more, but it was too late. Another motorist pulled up in a Volvo and asked if they should call the police. Shouting to them over the sound of the traffic, the rain, and the asshole's comments (which amounted to "you wanna fucking fight? You wanna fucking go? I could take you on one handed!"), I said "I think you probably should."
     I don't think they ever called the police. The interaction was over about thirty seconds later. Obviously, this prick was a bit too scared to fight when there were people watching it happen. I climbed on my bike again and rode the rest of the way home.

     That was a story that you probably had no interest in reading. I don't give a shit. Fuck you.

     My entire point is that, had I been in the same situation but with a GUN, it would have taken about half as long as it did in real life. He would have stormed out of his car, grabbed me, and I would have escaped and flashed a 9 mil in his face. That's it, and it would have been done. I have to say that I would also probably have thoroughly enjoyed the look on his face as he shit and pissed his pants all at the same time. I also like to imagine that I would have held it up to his head and asked him to beg for forgiveness. But I'm not quite that ruthless. YET. Let's give it time.
     I mean, even a knife would have done the job. I don't think it would have been nearly as effective, but it would DO THE JOB. I'm certainly not the kind of person who would ever buy a gun and load it. That's the kind of line that I just wouldn't cross. Even if the gun was loaded, I know that I would never have shot a person. I don't care what kind of shithead you are. I don't think I could ever handle taking a human life. But I can say that there is a kind of power that comes with intimidation. That's the kind of power that has an effect on people.


     So, when I say I'm in favor of guns, don't get me wrong. I don't think people should use guns to kill people. I don't think you should use knives to stab people either. I think that would be a waste of a valuable knife that could later be used to mercilessly decapitate a head of broccoli or emasculate a stalk of celery. But friends, there are people in this world who want to hurt you. Are you going to let yourself live in fear of people who don't deserve to lick the shit from the soles of your shoes? No. You should teach them a lesson about acting like humans TOWARD other humans. Sometimes, all it takes is a threat.

Kids can teach you a lot of things. I just wish they would wait until I've had my fucking coffee.

     People who know me in real life know that I recently moved to Portland, Oregon. Recently, meaning about 10 months ago. I used "going back to school" as an excuse to move out of the shit-hole more commonly known as Boise, Idaho. Now, don't get me wrong. There are a lot of things about Boise that I really liked, and still think about. For instance, Boise is pretty much central to a lot of outdoor activities that can be enjoyed by just driving (or cycling, in my case) a very short distance. Bogus Basin, a decent ski hill, is only about 16 miles away from my old apartment. While I'm not a skiier, I appreciated the fact that a short 16 mile ride uphill could essentially kick the ass of even the most seasoned cyclists. Boise also has a notoriously good record store, called The Record Exchange, which just happens to sit on the same block as the Neurolux (known to many as "the only bar in Boise that isn't filled with pricks and shit-heaps.")
     Let's get back to my original point. Even though Boise has a lot of great things about it, it's still full of assholes. Also, there's really no cycling infrastructure, which makes it nearly impossible to NOT own a car. Public transit in Boise is absolute shit, and nobody who lives there would even bother arguing with me because they know I'm right. I'm always right. Fuck you.
     In either case, I live in Portland now. Portland is a wonderful city. It's only about 4 times the size of Boise, population-wise. So, it's not nearly as big as San Diego or Manhattan, but it's big enough that there are a lot of entrepreneurs eager to make a name for themselves crafting unique trinkets and foodstuffs, and that keeps things pretty interesting for a consumer.
     I'm going off on a tangent, here. My bad.
     So, I lived in Lake Oswego for a while. Lake Oswego is a suburb that sits about 8 miles southwest of the heart of Portland, Oregon. My roommate was an aspiring actor who was roughly two years younger than me. He was a really nice guy and I have to say that because he put up with a lot of the shit that I did. And I think he would be forced to say the same of me, only because I put up with a lot of his shit, too. But about 3 months ago, I moved into the heart of Portland. Not downtown, because downtown is full of heroin addicts and muggers. But, I live in the kind of place that most people imagine when they think of Portland. I live about 30 seconds' walk away from an old asian couple's bodega, and I like that because the lady that works there speaks with a thick Vietnamese accent and calls me "hon." I love it here.
     One thing I don't love, however, is that I live with 2 adult roommates, and one of them has two kids, aged 7 and 11. Now, I like kids most of the time. And, honestly, I like these kids most of the time, too. But I'm not used to dealing with kids like these.
     These kids wake up at normal times, around 7:00 in the morning. Now, being that I'm a night person, I usually don't wake up until around 8 or so. Thankfully my job has very forgiving hours and it's essentially the perfect job for a functioning alcoholic. But, because these kids wake up before I usually do, it's pretty common for me to hear a lot of stomping and screaming that wakes me up before I want to be woken up. I'm okay with that. What I can't understand is how they think that they actually have problems that they need to yell and cry about.
     The younger of the two is certainly the baby of the bunch. He's seven years old and, yesterday morning, I awoke to hear him wailing about how his dad is a "bad dad"because he was forcing him to wear jeans to school. Twenty minutes later, he threw yet another fit because "dad" made him turn off his iPod during breakfast.
     Let me make this perfectly clear. The kid is 7. He has an iPod. If you don't see a huge problem with that, you're probably a parent who is so dreadfully inept that you just use electronics as a way to shut your kids up because you're not brave enough to tell them to shut the fuck up when they're doing something wrong. I'll cover that in a later post.
     The older of the two is an authority figure.
When the 7 year old is having friends over, the older sibling makes them sign contracts in order to keep them in line. CONTRACTS.
     But, living in this environment has taught me a lot of things. For instance:
     1. "Milk ALWAYS makes you fall asleep." This is a direct quote, verbatim, out of the mouth of the youngest child.
     2. A promise is a promise, no matter about which day the promise was made from, or for.
The 7 year old loves jumping on the trampoline. I told him on a sunday that, after work the next day, I would jump on the trampoline with him for twenty minutes. He was gone at a friend's house all day, and when I eventually left for work he was nowhere to be found. I assumed, naturally, that he no longer needed me to jump on the trampoline with him. I fell asleep later that night, unperturbed.
The next day, I was awoken by a knock on my door. In my groggy, half-drunken state I opened the door to see him staring at me, asking if I would jump on the trampoline with him. I replied "dude, I told you I would do that yesterday. Now it's today and the offer is off the table," to which he replied, "but you said you would jump on the trampoline with me tomorrow and that was two days ago and we didn't jump yesterday so now you have to do it today."
Are you following me, here?
So, this kid just doesn't understand that the offer was rendered invalid after the clock struck midnight that day. So, what I've learned from this is that, "tomorrow" is, in a 7 year old brain, essentially any other day that is not today.
To be fair, I didn't jump. He cried like a bitch and I asked him politely if I could bottle his tears because his sadness fuels me. He didn't know what to say to that, so he walked into the kitchen, drank a glass of milk, and left me alone. I sold 5 bikes that day because I was in such a good mood from seeing him cry.
     3. Smoking a cigarette after 5 months of abstaining isn't "quitting, it's just taking a break."
Now, this one came straight from the mouth of the elder sibling. I have to say, the little fucker got me there. I was speechless when he said that to me. He's a smart kid, what can I say? I honestly have no way of reasoning my way out of that one. To be fair, I didn't WANT to take up smoking again. It just sort of happened. When you work 50 hours a week, you can't really sustain a social life. So my downtime was relegated to getting drunk and sleeping. When all you do in your spare time is drink and sleep, it's really easy to readopt old, bad habits. And unfortunately for me, smoking is a habit that I kicked for some time, and was readopted when I was working so much that I couldn't fucking see straight. Too bad. My liver and lungs will get over it eventually. They're a bunch of pricks anyway and that's why I don't talk to them anymore. I hope they die.

Juggalos

Over the years, I've had to deal with a lot of horrible people. Working in retail means that you have to put on a fake smile and act nice to a bunch of hicks that have reason to get up in the morning other than getting drunk on malt liquor and abusing their wives and children, with the occasional two week meth binge. But, in and outside of my work, I've often had to deal with a particularly reprehensible group of people, and they call themselves "juggalos."

It's really hard to describe in words exactly what's wrong with these people. Just to be near them is offensive to all five senses. They smell like a rotten egg that was shit out the back end of a dead dog that's been festering in rancid milk for three years. In addition, they also tend to be missing more teeth than they've got remaining, and their skin appears to have the texture of a relief map of the pacific northwest. It would be hard to imagine that their diet consists of much more than ramen noodles and mountain dew. I'd much prefer being in a room full of compulsive World of Warcraft players for a week than have to be in the vicinity of a "juggalo" for longer than the two seconds it takes to tell them to go fuck themselves.

They also have a penchant for painting their faces to resemble clowns. They don't attempt to look like traditional clowns, though. Oh, no. They only paint their faces in black and white, which makes them look much more like mimes as opposed to clowns. The reason that this is done is because the subjects of their idolatry, the "Insane Clown Posse," happen to paint their faces in the same way. Somehow, these people have managed to create an entire subculture out of these habits, and often refer to themselves as a "family."

Now, if you met a juggalo on any normal day and you didn't know that they were a juggalo, you'd probably meet them and think that they were a pretty normal person. That is, until they open their mouth. Typically, a juggalo won't be physically able to complete a sentence without screaming "whoop whoop" at the top of their lungs, which serves as a type of mating call to attract all nearby juggalos to the general area. You'll also notice, in the process, that they'll typically be missing at least two teeth. Most juggalos are missing more than this, but two is considered the absolute minimum. I can't imagine that there is any other reason for this than that you have to constantly be high on meth to be able to listen to listen to this shitty music.

There is no substance to the music other than talking about murdering people and raping their bodies. You know, if John Wayne Gacy wanted to write an album about killing people and raping their bodies, I might actually listen to it, because he has a frame of reference as to what he's writing about. But instead, these guys - Shaggy 2 Dope and his obese counterpart, Violent J - are just a couple of middle-class white dudes from Detroit who advertise cheap soda and tell people that if they don't buy a t-shirt with a silhouette of a man running with a meat cleaver, then they'll never be accepted.

But, really, this group of people is so much more unattractive than my words can explain. I'd recommend going on YouTube and just looking at a few videos of these juggalos to understand a little bit more about them. I'd hate to advise anyone to violate their brains in the way that you're sure to do if you look at these people, but at the same time, you should be able to recognize these people with ease so that you know who to avoid. And, really, I would never advocate murder in any scenario, but I would not be particularly offended if I found out that every juggalo in the world had been beaten senseless tomorrow. I'm not going to go out kicking the asses of a bunch of armed 14 year olds, but I don't mind if you do it. Just be prepared to face the consequences. 

It's been a couple of weeks and I still hate you.

You few who follow this blog religiously (and I know that you do) have probably noticed my lack of recent posts. I have been pestered to no end by some of my real-world friends and colleagues, asking "have you posted anything new lately?" Unfortunately, time and again, I am forced to answer with "no."

So, due to that fact, I would like to take this opportunity to formally apologize for my lack of dedication to this blog. I am currently writing several things which I fully intend to post once I am happy with their content. My job takes up a considerable amount of time, as does my chronic alcoholism. I promise you that I will publish more content as soon as I have it edited. I learned early on while I was creating this page that I have a pernicious habit of writing things while I'm inebriated and not thoroughly looking them through to find redundancies or other errors. I am also working on editing some of my previous posts because, as I have read them over several times, I am not happy with my writing.

But stay vigilant, followers. Your beloved blogger will return with heaps of new content soon. My advice would be to check in around the beginning of every week. If things go smoothly, I'll be able to publish at least one piece a week. Thanks to all of you who have read, and thanks to those of you who will continue to read, you mindless drones.

People with kids.

I don't necessarily hate people with kids. In fact, I wish one day to have children of my own. I would like to imagine that they will be as awesome as me and be strong enough to kick the stupid right out of your stupid kids.
What I do hate, however, is people who can't shut the fuck up about their kids. And there are myriad reasons why I don't ever want to hear about your kids. Here's the top three:
1. Your kids are fucking annoying. All they ever do is eat and shit and sleep. If you tell me about your kids, I will say something along the lines of "Yeah, I remember when all I did was eat, shit and sleep. Those were the good ol' days. All I ever do now is eat, shit, and drink whiskey until I pass out." Most parents find this offensive which, in turn, I find sexually stimulating. When some guy walks up to me pushing a stroller, my first reaction is to say, "What a cute kid! You'll have to give him my number. I've been looking for a drinking buddy. Everyone else I ask to go drinking is too afraid that I'll hit them in the temple with a pool cue if I have another shot of Jameson's."
2. Kids cry about nothing. I didn't cry when I found out that my father had hepatitis and diabetes. Why is your kid crying because you won't buy him a fucking candy bar? Oh, that's right. It's because you gave him a candy bar once and now he's hooked like a marlin on a fucking fishing pole. I would never give my kids something that I didn't plan to give them every time they asked for it. You know the best way to condition your kids into not crying? Train them to eat like real human beings. When I have a kid (hopefully a boy because I don't even want to think about what kind of shit I'd have to endure if I had a daughter) I'm going to deprive him of carrots for his entire young life. And every day, I'll eat a carrot in front of him, acting like it's the most delicious thing in the observable universe (because it is.) Then, when he finally asks me for a snack, I'll eat a carrot in front of him and say "No, you shouldn't eat carrots because they're only for grown-ups."
I swear to god, he'll crave carrots for the rest of his waking life. And I bet my kid will grow up to be a fucking olympian because every time his trainer says "You worked hard today, kid. You deserve a treat," little Cunt (I plan to name my son Cunt) will plant himself on a bench and eat a shit load of carrots because that's what daddy trained him to do. I only wish that my parents had that kind of discipline.
3. All your kid does is take shits everywhere. Unfortunately for you, this is both metaphorical and literal. If you have a kid, you know what I mean. Your child will spend the first few years of his or her life shitting all over your floor. And when he's done with that, he's going to shit all over your emotions. He'll tell you that he hates you, and that he hates everything, and that he hates everything about you.

If you're the typical parent, you should hate yourself even more than your kid hates you. And here's a few reasons why you should:
-You're a liar. You lie to your kids every time that you talk about the Tooth Fairy or Santa Claus or the Higgs-Boson. When I have a son, I'll tell him to go to "Show and Tell" and hold up a dead rat in front of the class and say that he captured the Easter Bunny. All of those bible-thumping parents will try to sue me, and I'll get constitutional on their asses. I'll take it to the Supreme Court if I have to. No Jesus freak is going to tell me what to do with my offspring.
-You're a dick. If you're anything like my parents (you probably are) then you probably verbally abuse your kids and criticize them at every opportunity because it makes you feel like you're in control. You probably refuse to let your kids dress the way that they want to and make them feel insignificant. Their only purpose is to please you and make you proud that you produced a little shit-eating monster. Why do your treat them like they'll never be more to you than a way to pay for your retirement? Well, the answer is simple. It's because you treat your kids like a retirement fund. You take advantage of them and you think "well, if I push Cunt hard enough, he'll grow up to be a famous actor and then I can move to Thailand and become a seductive masseuse who gives handjobs for tips." You're a prick, and you know it. Good for you.

If you skipped to the end of this post because you realized that everything I say is correct: good for you. You're one step closer to becoming a martyr for the human race. You will also probably die alone.

If you skipped to the end of this post because you're too upset with me criticizing your parenting, then I hope that you will consider fucking yourself rather than fucking a dude who didn't remember to bring a rubber.

Food stamps are for lazy assholes.

I work in a grocery store, which means that we have to deal with a lot of useless assholes during the course of a day. Most of these assholes buy their food using their EBT cards (I don't know what EBT means, but I assume it means that you're too lazy to find a fucking job, or you're just screwing the system over because you have some grandiose fantasy that the system owes you something.) Most of these people are also drunk or on meth. I know this for a fact.
Our store has a coffee bar in the front of it, and because the coffee bar operates on the same system that the store uses, these food stamp people are allowed to use their food stamp cards to buy drinks. Only cold drinks, mind you, but I have a hard time believing that anyone who doesn't have a job deserves anything other than the bare minimum, which means food, water, and a roof over your head. That means that you don't need to be spending your cash on anything other than food to feed yourself and your family. To use this money that the government has given you (out of my paycheck, of which I lose about a third to taxes) to spend on food, you instead choose to spend it on 9 dollar cups of coffee because you have, essentially, no morals.
Let me clarify. I do not mind that my store is making more sales from these people. More sales mean more hours, and I like that because I am a lowly clerk and, due to that fact, am in constant fear of having my labor hours cut. But the fact that the government allows this kind of misappropriation of federal funds is simply sickening. To give you an idea of what kind of people are spending your tax dollars on overpriced coffee, I'll simply take two seconds to google "homeless man" on google and link the first image that I see. Here it is:

This is a pretty accurate depiction of about 90 percent of the customers that come in, most frequently during the first week of the month. Now, here's the problem: these people have jobs. I don't have an issue with the fact that they have jobs, so much as that they are on food stamps when they don't need to be.
Now, I make about 200 dollars a week. That's not a very decent wage for anyone who wants to live comfortably. I have to live with three people that I hate to my very core. But because of the housing market in my city, it's really my only realistic option.
On the 200 dollars that I make every week, I can afford to do the following things:
1. Pay rent
2. Feed myself
This is as much as I can afford. Every once in a while I will go and have a drink at a bar, but paying 4 dollars for a beer is simply not something I can afford to do in my financial situation. So I would like for someone to explain to me how these people think that they are allowed to have jobs, be drunk almost 90 percent of the time, and still be using food stamps.
I am not on food stamps, because I don't need to be. If I can pay rent and feed myself and occasionally enjoy a beer or two, there is no reason that I should be asking the government for more money.
If you are on food stamps and you're reading this blog, then I hate you for the following reasons:
-You have a computer. If you need money to feed yourself, then you should have sold your computer long ago, you useless waste of skin.
-You have internet access. If you can afford to pay for internet access, (generally 25-50 dollars a month) then you have enough money to feed yourself. And you are probably paying more money in a week for food than I spend in a month.

You're probably telling yourself "I got dealt a bad hand, and the government fucked me over." Yeah, you know what? The government fucks people over. Big fucking deal. Learn to live with it. Food stamps should be reserved for people who have no jobs at all. I don't mind losing a third of my paycheck if it helps people who are in need. I'd rather lose 90 percent of my wages if it went to people who were in need of housing and food, than lose 1 percent of it to self-important degenerates who think that they deserve something because they have been screwed by the government.

If you didn't skip to the end of this post to read why I hate people on food stamps, congratulations. You're probably not on food stamps because you know how to read polysyllabic words.

If you just skipped to the end of this post because you can't understand the meaning of "polysyllabic", you're probably on food stamps. And that's just one more reason that I hate you.

First post.

Welcome.

I feel like I need to do something special for the first post on Reasons Why I Hate You. Unfortunately, as I'm currently inebriated, most of my thoughts about why I hate you are too scrambled to actually put them into a comprehensible format right now. So I'll just tell you a little bit about myself and about this blog.

I'm not some kind of magical internet personality who wants to bullshit you into believing that I know how to do anything more on a computer than check my email and copy/paste text into a document. I work at a grocery store and spend the majority of my time there admiring the beautiful women that come in. When I'm not looking at pretty girls, I'm trying to induce vomiting from accidentally glancing at an obese woman wearing pajama pants and flip flops, letting her gut seep out of her shirt like skin colored cottage cheese dripping slowly out of a mixing bowl. Unfortunately I see the latter much more frequently than the former.
I also have to deal with a lot of insane people who think that I can solve every problem in their lives just by listening. These people don't understand that while they are crying and telling me that they just found out they have cancer or that their parents both died in a car crash, I'm actually thinking about having sex or punching a goat in the face. Or perhaps, If I'm in a particularly good humor, I'll be thinking about doing both of those things at the same time.

This blog is going to serve as a repository for all of the otherwise meaningless and offensive things that I think about on a day to day basis. This blog is not really directed at any one person, of group of people, and much of the content will be completely unrelated to things and people that I hate because I have heaps of things better to be doing than criticizing Juggalos or taking a piss on Christianity. As the name would suggest, this page will be mainly about reasons that I hate people and wish that I could live in seclusion in the wilderness and mercilessly slaughter my own vegetables for food. I would kill deer and rabbits just for fun, and mount their heads up on my walls, because I don't eat meat aside from fish. As an added bonus, you can make a pretty cool hat out of a bear's ass and a moose's face.
If you have a problem with anything that you see posted on this blog, you can keep it to yourself. I deal with hundreds of useless, annoying idiots on a day to day basis and I don't need any more of you trying to shit on a plate that's already full of shit. Don't try to pour more water into a glass that's already full. You'll achieve the same result as if you email me: someone smacking you upside the head asking why you're doing something so fucking stupid. 



Now that we've established why you will hate this blog, let me tell you about some of the people and things that I hate.
-First and foremost, I hate you.
-I hate your kids and your grandkids and basically every single person in your entire fucking family. I don't ever want to hear about your stupid fucking kids because they're little fucking pieces of shit that broke off of a bigger piece of shit, which is you.
-I hate your dog and I don't want to see your stupid fucking pictures of him chewing on your testicles. My dog is the only cool dog in the world and all of the other dogs suck.
-If your parents are paying for your college, I hate you. The only reason your parents should be paying for college is if it's for them to get a degree with their fucking name on it.
-I would say that I hate Christians but I don't. Because Christianity is just a group of people that have more things for me to hate about them than just their religion. I will not waste my time hating someone for being stupid, because being stupid is a much better reason to hate someone.
-And to further elaborate on the above point, I hate people who are intolerant of people because of their race, religion, nationality or gender.
-I also hate Polish people.



If you've managed to read this far into my first post without suffering a minor stroke, I'd like to thank you. I hope you'll continue to read my irreverent and generally useless thoughts on the human race, and my thoughts about things in general.