I hate weakness because I hate pity; I hate strength because I never have enough; I hate popups that ask you to sign up without moisturizing sweet talk or foreplay; and I hate x-ray procedures where they put a bib on your balls and expect you to “just relax.”

If I lose a testicle, doc, I’ll be waiting for you outside with a big knife!

I hate cross contaminating depression; I hate the linear regularity of meaningless routine; I hate traffic jams, rubberneckers, and slow-ass drivers who insist on driving on the left-goddamn-lanes.

May they all get bone cancer!

I hate baristas who automatically assume I need syrup in my coffee when the default should always be black; I hate the Kaiser Permanente bitch who comes on the radio, deluding perishing old people by telling them to “thrive;” I hate fundamentalists, fatalists, feminists, atheists and any other -ists that have sacred words and ideas that cannot be questoned, scrutinized, mocked, joked about or attacked; but most of all I hate people

who

write like this

because they think it’s

poetry, where in

fact it’s just a

pile of pretentious

shit.

Go suck on a fat baby’s balls, you bastard! (more…)