Dear: Everyone.

I hate everyone. Most everyone. Just the stupid ones. I hate stupid people. The stupid ones are really the stupidest ones. The guy who complains to me at the store that the person in front of him took to long to write a check. The guy behind him that complains that that guy smells bad. The lady who is behind the guy behind the stinky guy who complains to me that the back of that guy’s shirt offends her. People, Stop using checks to pay for fucking groceries, take a shower, and STFU.
Holy Jumping Turd Balls!
I really cannot believe the shit that gets under people’s skin. Now your probably thinking, “Now Tommy, you’re going to complain to us that you hate when people complain to you?”, right?
Well F-U, your wrong.
I’m going to tell you why I love it when people complain to me.
When someone in the store, at a restaurant, anywhere really, complains to me, two things go on in my head. One being what I want to say, and the other being what I really say. Now, many people would agree on the fact that I can act like a certain part of the male anatomy. But for the most part I’m nice to the random bonehead.
For example, when the man waiting outside a restaurant walks over to me and complains that the people he was standing by are smoking and he doesn’t want to die of cancer, I say “Oh yea, i don’t blame you.” Which for some reason the man thinks is an invite to tell me his whhhooollleee fucking life story about why he doesn’t smoke.
But I’m thinking: “Get the fuck outta here man, who the hell walks up to random people like this? You must be some sort of social hermit who was home schooled by an overly zealous christian mother that made you think its fine to just talk to random people because Jesus made everyone nice and loving. Well rise and shine princess, if you reach for your pocket, you freak, I’m slicing your throat with my car key!”
Then his pager goes off that his table is ready and as he reaches for it, i accidentally slice his throat and he dies on the sidewalk, gasping for air as the blood pools around him.
Then his pager goes off and he says, “Finally.” and goes inside.
It’s all this weird thing that goes on in my head. You’re probably wanting to think im crazy at this point, but you’re just afraid to admit it happens to you too. If it happens to everyone you meet or see, then your some sort of serial killer, but if it only happens when you meet really god damn stupid people, then that’s perfectly normal.
Dr. Travis Yearns at the University of Michigan recently did a study and found that people fantasize about murdering things they feel are inferior, it’s some sort of innate “survival of the fittest” mechanism that our brains have embedded deep within. It’s used to help keep the human species at the top of the food chain, but since mankind has socially evolved beyond the point where we thought it was proper to kill the retarded ones, we no longer can follow that instinct, so our brains have adapted this sort of dream.
Just kidding, I just made all that shit up, but you almost believed it didn’t you?
Anyway, I almost welcome the complains that stupid people issue to me. Not only does it give me some material to write my entries that are apparently entertaining, but it also makes me appreciate the fact that I’m way smarter then you, ya bastard.