Saturday, January 12, 2013

It appears the mother-ship of giggling spastics has beamed down an away team.

A late afternoon at the coffeehouse.

I was originally going to post about my family or the flu epidemic but instead, I am now going to blast these ridiculous morons. Let’s take this point by point. If you’re at a coffeehouse, please realize that many people are here to work. I am one of these people.  Irritating me will get you marginally famous…and not in a good way. For the record, I don’t give flying can of smashed assholes about your conversation, but if you get in the way of my work, I will absolutely provide color commentary of your conversation.

I realize that reading has fallen out of fashion, and therefore, I’m not in the slightest bit worried that any of the above pictured morons is reading this, and if you are, it’s most likely going to take you weeks to get through this smidgeon of an article, and then there’s the hurdle of comprehension…yeah, I’m going to sleep easy.

  1. If you suck at reading aloud, don’t come to the coffeehouse and practice. No one wants to hear you sound-out your way through “The Little Engine that Could.”  There she was, blithely giggling away as simpletons do. Pecking away at her smartphone and then reading out factoids at the top of her lungs…badly. “Peanuts aren’t really nuts. Prairie dogs aren't really dogs at all. Panda bears aren’t really bears.” It goes on and on. Hey guess what? You being told to “Go fuck yourself.” Isn’t intended as wishing you the best on your evening alone. There’s a fact for you.
  2. Go ahead. Say “like” one more time. “I was like oh my god. That’s like totally how I got Herpes”.  Once the can of "LIKE" was opened, the gaggle of spastics LIKE exploded. Like flew everywhere. It was akin to a Facebook post of a kitten sneezing or a puppy that woke itself up with a fart. Like. Like. Like. Like.
  3. It’s “hanged”. No really, it is. While I’m moderately impressed that you sort of know who Guy Fawkes was, there’s no way to tell whether or not he was hung. He was hanged. Hung refers to cock size, but let’s not go down the reproductive road for you. In fact, let’s just go ahead cross that off your to-do list altogether. Spare the gene pool. Where’s your sense of mercy?
Through my shameless eavesdropping, I’m wondering if my being a curmudgeon has derailed my sense of compassion and led me down the path of heartlessness. Have I completely lost it? Nope. I still have a love of humanity. It’s inconsiderate behavior that I despise. It’s the lack of regard. It’s their parents that should be popped in the mouth with a wooden spoon for rearing these children in an environment that fosters this behavior. I’m sure at the end of the day these young people are perfectly nice, probably when they’re asleep.

1 comment:

JP said...
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