Why am I forced to suffer through these morons? Why can't I push them in a giant meat grinder and feed them to the less offensive morons? Most people are not fit to vote or sit on a jury or drive or speak in public. Sit back whilst I dispense some justice.
Are you looking for a date or a shovel to the face? Why do online profiles and personal ads have to be so stupid? You love to laugh do you? What do you laugh at? Is it the Special Olympics, or Will and Grace? Because only one of those two things is really funny. Does your ad say that you're smart and have a great sense of humor? How about you put an intelligent or humorous sentence in your ad, lobotomite?
These are the same people that write a ridiculously stupid cookie cutter ad and then complain that there are no good people to date. There are lots of good people to date, but they have identified you as a troglodyte and moved on. Did you just write only that you are looking for someone fun, attractive and successful then complain that you got too many responses? It's called selectivity, Miss Social Disease. Please go stand in that line and do not resist the man shoving you down the metal chute.
You know who's about to taste some crowbar flavored righteousness? My gym teacher friend who complains about not having money. She recently asked for help replacing the pedals on her bicycle. These are pedals that match the shoes she also bought. Someone suggested a different set of shoes and pedals and she said she couldn't afford them because she was only a teacher. First I know how much teachers make. See salary.com It's twice what I make. Second, you only work 9 months of the year at a civil service job. You're a gym teacher. You should pay us not to feed you to the students. Lastly, teachers as a whole don't deserve a living wage because you're doing a piss poor job. How do I know? Everyone I meet is a fucking retard. My parents taught me how to read and write and count. Every teacher I ever had after that was worthless once she passed out the book. Since the kid in the front row often did the distributing of the books, I'm not really sure what the teacher was there for at all.
Here are people that are good at their jobs: dishwashers, lifeguards, postal delivery workers (I just put them here because they will shoot me if I don't), firemen--not fire fighters, firemen because some of you just aren't angry enough yet. Who dies in fires? People that are so stupid they don't deserve to live. You know that public service announcement that used to run on Saturday mornings about "Stop, drop and roll"? It deserves the paychecks of most of my teachers.
All children suck. The arrangement between parents is that we won't tell you how much your children suck so that you don't tell us how miserable our children are. It's all to avoid the painful and difficult conversation where you explain to your own children just how awfully they really do suck.
What in the hell is this brown fluid that keeps leaking out of my nose?
When I am walking my dog and we approach an intersection he sits and I stop. I look both ways and in most cases watch vehicles drive through said intersection. At a stop sign pedestrians have the right of way. My dog understands that better than the people Colorado gives driver licenses to. This is a dog that humps the wrong end of other dogs. Yet we give these turd heads the ability to careen through the city in a glass and metal and gasoline box of death.
If you got hustled by an online scam, there is no need to post to a message board warning others. You were promised lonely girls in your area, or prescription drugs without a prescription or free software or a job you were grossly unqualified for and it didn't work out that way? That doesn't surprise those of us who don't only use our heads to warm our pillows. Whether or not you used spell check or what you think is a big word, when your message is "Look out for this scam", all I read is "Could you tell me which way to The Grinder?"
I cleaned my rifle for bear season. I stocked up on ammunition during elk season. I calibrated my sight through duck season. When, oh when, do we have open season on journalists who write stories on the diet habits of celebrities?
I think that's about it for now. Since some of you asked, The Mustard can be found here. There are few things I enjoy less than watching general studies majors make millions of dollars to play a game, like people talking and writing about these meat heads. But, I'm a decent human being and thought some of you might enjoy this blog. Let's see how long it is before you nag me to post again.
