going negative

It’s time to celebrate our nation’s independence day again, and you know what that means: A God Damned Barbecue.

People act like going to a friend’s barbecue is like being invited to a private resort, or a prestigious think tank. They are clearly blind to the reality staring them straight in the face: barbecues are the fucking worst.

Let’s catalogue what you’re going to get at a barbecue:

#1: Hamburgers and Hot Dogs. Great! A hunk of the cheapest ground beef available, grilled until it’s carbon on the outside and a grey paste inside, stuck in-between two slices of the cheapest bun available, probably with condiments or shitty kraft singles but maybe not even that. Your average barbecue hamburger is basically garbage. And hot dogs are made from actual garbage, so, there you have it. Garbage and garbage and maybe some gross fucking potato salad that’s been in the SUN all day.

#2: Outside: Oh, you mean the place where there’s nowhere to sit, everything is dirty, and there’s nowhere to rest my plate while I eat? Fantastic! While you’re at it, why don’t you just throw the food up in the air and I’ll catch it like I’m goddamned air bud, because that’s going to be about as clean as trying to eat your shitty hamburger while sitting indian style in the grass. What’s that? There’s also the chance of mosquitos, smoke blowing in your face from the grill, and TORNADOS? Gee, outside sure is a fun place to eat!

#3: Weirdos: Who’s going to be at these things? Unless you’re lucky enough to have move away from you family AND are unemployed, odds are high you’ll have to spend the day with either Family or CoWorkers. Either way, I think we all know that talking to either of those groups for more than twenty minutes is enough to make anyone split off and form their own nation.

#4: Beer: Huck me a lukewarm Pabst out of that watered down cooler, bro! And while you’re at it, make sure I never enjoy any of the finer things in life ever again.

So this July 4th, I encourage everyone to celebrate the holiday like a real American: alone, in front of the TV, next to the air conditioning, ordering grub hub.

Well, if it isn’t the little asshole who could. I’m so excited to hear you explain how your callous, cheap, disrespectful behavior is actually part of a righteous attack on The Man for not paying everyone higher wages. It’s going to be such a thrill for you to explain to me how I need to be compensated; certainly that’s your business and I love when strangers try to teach my boss a lesson via my wallet.

Have I laid the sarcasm on thick enough? I want to make sure it’s as thick and zesty as the extra ranch you need for any foodstuff unlucky enough to be in your presence. Only with the amuse bouche of my sarcasm will your palate be truly ready for the curb stomping I’m about to give you, you stupid, selfish cheapskate.

I don’t know why you think sitting at a table in a restaurant for ninety minutes makes you an expert on the financial comings and goings of the entire business, but somehow that seems to be the way you operate. I hear people doing it all the time, espousing the economics of their penny pinching like there’s a fucking Microeconomics class at table 67:

“Well, look, I tipped $10. He’s got five other tables, and he’ll turn them four times tonight. That’s $200 a night, if not more! Servers make so much money, $10 is more than enough for our $90 dinner!”

You sound like a second grader trying to explain how we launch things into orbit. “Fire comes out and scares the satellite into space!!!” No, dumbass, those are just the things you’re seeing. Other things exist. Unless you’re the general manager of the goddamned restaurant, or have some kind of daredevil-esque superpower where you can hear the financial breakdown of the restaurant in the way the dishwasher rubs the plates or some horseshit, you don’t have a fucking clue where that money is going.

Look around yourself for a second, only this time, don’t look through all the staff in the room. Notice them. See the bussers, food runners, hosts, servers, bartenders, and the barback? THEY ALL GET PAID OUT OF YOUR SHITTY $10. In fact, in some restaurants, the server tips all those other employees based on how much food he SOLD that night, whether you tipped them or not. So, if the hypothetical cockshaft from before tips $10 on $90, and the server tips the rest of the staff 10% of his sales ($9), then the server will keep A FUCKING DOLLAR. So when you do your stupid math out again, if everyone tipped like you (that is, a complete shithead,) then they made $20 in a night! LOL SERVERS MAKE SO MUCH MONEY!!1

Did you think the server just takes all the money that everyone gives them and then crams it in their wallets? That’s like thinking that the store clerk at CVS takes home the money you give her for cigarettes and lip balm. Speaking of minimum wage jobs, here’s another thing nobody should ever say for any reason but do all the time:

“Waiters always complain that they make less than minimum wage, like we HAVE to tip them, but their boss has to make up the difference if they don’t make minimum wage.”

Okay, first of all, anybody who’s ever said this has obviously never made minimum wage. Minimum wage is like, very bad, as an amount of money to make. It’s literally the worst amount of money you can make. That isn’t a good baseline to hit, bro. Unless you’re at a fast food restaurant, the employees didn’t take that job to make minimum wage! Do you see how much shit your server knows? Like how they stopped you from ordering that dish that has gluten kind of hidden in the recipe, because you said you were allergic to gluten? That’s because their job takes effort and skill and intelligence— you know, the skills that PROFESSIONALS ARE PAID FOR. And guess who fucking pays for that? The goddamned customer! YOU, motherfucker who drank seven diet cokes, have to pay for that.

And on top of that, the employer only has to make up the difference if you fail to AVERAGE minimum wage in a WEEK, not that day. Guess they left that out of whatever hateful infographic you’ve been cross posting in “proud gun owners that are also walmart patrons and love mayonnaise” Facebook groups. So that shit never gets paid out, because, thank sweet merciful whoever-the-fuck, most people aren’t as rude, cheap, and stupid as you. And, for the record, I know for a fact that you’re stupid, because you say stupid shit like:

“It shouldn’t be my responsibility to pay their employees. Let the management pay them! That’s just the owners being cheap.”

Have you ever done a math problem in your entire worthless life? Did you just spend math class chewing on your own arm like it was going to turn into a bloomin onion? Because what the fuck do you think is going to happen if the restaurant pays everyone $20 an hour. That’s thousands of dollars a night. How does a business compensate for higher expenses? BY RAISING THE PRICES, IDIOT. You’re still going to be paying my salary by eating here. You can’t get out of that, no matter what the situation. If you think about it, restaurants do you a fucking favor by not doing it that way; would you rather pay $50 for a steak and the service, or $40 for a steak, and then tip based on how good the service is? Even people who aren’t cheaper than ikea furniture would still save money by tipping.

How is it that you’re so impossibly gross and creepy while doing fuck-all? You’re not biters, or poisoners, you don’t crawl in people’s ears on the regular like SOME bugs I know. You’re not known for your droppings, you don’t generally make a lot of noise or anything like that.

Yet, somehow, you are the most disgusting motherfucking two inches of gross ew shit on the entire planet. When  I saw one of you the other day climbing around on the wall DIRECTLY ABOVE MY BED it was like seeing somebody take a gross, watery shit all over my bed. Actually, no, it was worse, because the gross shit at least I’d know where it came from and when it was over; I could just burn those sheets and move on with my life.

But when it’s one of you nuclear-holocaust surviving little freaks? I can’t just burn you alive and move on with my life. Because where there’s one of you, there are a million others, just waiting for me to go to sleep so that you can run across my face and mouth and EW EW EW EW.

What else was I supposed to do? I got my landlord to pay a socially awkward fat guy to walk around my apartment and coat every inch of it with POISON. That’s how much I fucking hate you and your kind, cockroach; so much that I literally turned my home into a giant pile of poison, just in case there were more of you hiding anywhere.

So, please, cockroaches, kindly fuck off forever. Yours in hatred,

Oh, lah-de-FUCKING-dah, Mister computer website!  “Look at me, I used to sell books and now I make them obsolete!” Fuck you.

You’ve ruined me. Ruined us all. You know that, right? Used to be, I would buy something, I wasn’t planning on seeing for a week, shit, maybe not even for two or three weeks! I’d fucking forget, that’s how long it was. And when it showed up, it was like getting a present from myself from the past.

But now? Now, if I don’t have a new set of file folders or a seventeen inch double-sided dildo or a signed photograph of James Brown within 36 hours, I start to lose my fucking mind.

When I was a kid, I once got duped by one of those mail-order CD companies. I bought eight CDs for a penny and then paid like $150 in shipping or something like that. They took eight weeks to come, surprised me with the huge shipping charge, and then it turned out that Eve 6’s whole album SUCKED outside of that one song. This was one of the formative experiences of my childhood. And, thanks to Amazon “dick-licker” Prime, today’s kids will never know the simple joy of being financially sodomized by a multi-national record company. And that is some sad shit.

I mean, Amazon Prime, you brought my new TV a day early. A DAY EARLY. On a delivery that was only two days to begin with! How am I EVER supposed to wait patiently for ANYTHING ever again after you brought me the largest physical item I’ve ever had delivered IN HALF THE EXPECTED TIME.

Seriously, right now I’m mad because the pizza I ordered isn’t here yet. Do you how long ago I ordered it? I HAVEN’T YET. That’s on you, dicks.

I wish somebody would put a big foot up your asses, you irritating idiots.

Think about everything we found. We have found SO MUCH. We found all those scary fucking fish that live so far underwater our brains are supposed to explode before we find them. We found magical black goop in the dirt and turned it into the god damned bat mobile and a rocket ship to the moon. Oh, right, we found a way to get to the fucking MOON. We found a way to shoot cameras off the planet and then have them zoom in and look at us from above the clouds. We found platinum, which barely even exists. Seriously, 90% of the earth’s platinum is now a record hanging on a producers wall.

And yet you’re trying to tell me that while we were on our way to discovering the genes that make my eyes blue and your brains work wrong, we missed a giant ape man living in the woods behind your fucking house? We found all those stupid owls that were almost all gone hiding out in HOLES in the TOP of trees, and you think that while we were there we missed a 400 pound Gorilla?! GET AHOLD OF YOURSELVES.

I wish somebody would literally throw you under a bus. If you just said this phrase, you are in the middle of being a whiny baby about something.

People who say this are upset about being held to some kind of responsibility. Really Brian? I threw you under a bus when I mentioned that you were also available to work overtime? Well fuck you, Brian, you fucking are available, and you never get called in and it’s total bullshit! You're act like I sold your sister into piracy, or blew up your dog. Get a goddamned grip.

Think about your words: you’re suggesting that I murdered you. That’s what you do if you throw someone under a bus. You murder them using a bus. The only person I've ever seen throw someone under a bus was Frank Underwood and even that was a fucking train because NOBODY, EVER, has really been thrown under a bus. Even if I actually did murder you in broad daylight using a BUS of all the god damn things, there’s no way I'd actually THROW an adult UNDER a bus. At best I could throw someone into or in front of a bus. And I’m not that strong, if it’s a THROW then it’s got to be a baby. So basically, when I hold you responsible for a real fucking responsibility you have, you compare that “betrayal” to throwing an alive baby into traffic.

So, yeah. I wish somebody would throw you into traffic, Brian. You baby. And if they did, then fine, you don’t have to work any overtime.

Sincerely,

Ralph Kramden

Grow up. I hate to come out swinging like that but, for fuck’s sake, what do you think you’re doing here? Do you think people are impressed? That they’re all talking about you? Is that really what you imagine— that right now, some bald tuxedoed douchebag with an old mustache is waving one of you guys around, marveling at how he has the perfect tool at hand for enjoying potato salad while standing? Because that’s an incredibly specific and totally implausible scenario, and if you really believe that, I genuinely feel very sorry for you.

The fact of the matter is, you’re wasting your time. Nobody wants you, nobody likes you, you’re a total fucking joke. First of all, you lost everybody instantly the second you told us the name. Spork? SPORK? It sounds like some kind of parasite somebody would defecate on Star Trek. It’s the name a four year old with a lisp would have given this tool.

Here’s the problem, sporks. It’s not that you don’t work. You work… fine, I guess. But you’re a slightly below average spoon (drippy, bad for soup) and an abomination of a fork. You’re a fork in the same way that a fork is a knife: it isn’t, but if you need to be a brute then you can do it. You might still be a useful tool if we lived in a world where forks and spoons were difficult to come by, or expensive, but they are fucking not. Even homeless people have access to unlimited high-quality utensils from take out joints. That’s why the only people that like you are campers, who are challenging themselves to live uncomfortably. That’s the only time you’re appropriate: When someone wants to be intentionally less comfortable than their regular life.

So maybe it’s time to just fuck off, okay guys? You had a run. I’d say you had a good run, but, that’s not what happened.

Cordially,

The problem with naps is that they’re a shittier version of something you already had to do for like eight hours today. I mean, on the one hand, you only have one life to live and you already spend roughly a third of it asleep, but on the other hand, maybe you’re a regular baby or an adult ignoramus. Because those are the only people who think naps are a good idea.

It’s the middle of the day, you could be doing any number of things, some of which don’t even completely suck, and instead, you’re supposed to spend it lying down with your eyes closed getting some EXTRA sleep?! Sleep is a biological necessity, like shitting, not a fun way to spend the afternoon. If someone told you that you never had to sleep again, wouldn’t you be so fucking stoked?! That’s like getting an extra 35 years added to your life.

As if burning away your precious meager pathetic life-force wasn’t enough of a deterrent, have you ever woken up from a nap? If feels like you got chloroformed and then pushed down the stairs. You’re lost and confused for the rest of the day. Probably because your brain though you were DYING because why else would you just lay down and stop doing anything in the middle of the fucking day.

Here’s a phrase you’ll never hear “Thank god that adult person took a nap”.

Have you ever been writing a sentence and then DIED in the middle of it? Because if you have, you are one of the only people who should be using a fucking ellipsis. Has their ever been a shittier, more wishy-washy form of punctuation. Well, funny you should ask… NO THERE HAS FUCKING NOT.

What the fuck would you ever need an ellipsis for? To make it look like you can’t think of what word is coming next? The whole point of writing shit down is that you don’t need to communicate every single thought that crosses your brain, you can pick and choose, leaving the good shit in and throwing the ellipsis in the fucking trash!

Using an ellipsis is like wearing a scarf in the summer: Everyone who does it is a human rights criminal. Nobody even bothered to come up for a new symbol for a fuckin ellipsis, which leads me to believe some hack idiot got his period key stuck on his typewriter and then pretended like it meant something.

You know you’re drugs, right? You’re fucking drugs that get people all wired up and jittery and shit. You’re like cocaine or meth, but boring and shitty.

So who the fuck gave you permission to be the most ubiquitous beverage in the fucking country? You think just because you’re legal right now that you’re so much better than amphetamines or MDMA? Because you’re fucking not. You’re just more popular with old people.

Your time is gonna come, Coffee. You’re just a pile of crushed up fucking beans boiled in hot water. And we can’t even eat the beans! You’re worse than fucking RICE, coffee. RICE. Nobody respects you. Just because starbucks figured out how to charge $7 a cup for coffee doesn’t mean we all forgot that you used to cost a fucking nickel. Hell, in New York, I can still but a shitty cup if thin weak coffee for a quarter from a fucking hot box on the sidewalk.

So why don’t you chill the fuck out with all this steamed milk and slow drip and cold brew horsecock. Just shut the fuck up and go back to providing the world with the legal high we so desperately need until congress finally fucking legalizes cocaine, at which point we can close all the starbucks and turn them into smoking holes in the ground.

Watch your fucking back,

What a stupid way to exist. You’re not going to get up and actually go do anything with your miserable joke of a life, and yet you refuse to accept that fact and simply lay down and die. Way to waffle in the middle. Maybe once we’re done sitting we can all go join John Kerry on his stupid-ass wind-surfer.

Basically you’re just punishing your body by sitting around like an idiot. Ruining your posture, circulation, and ass, just so you can be slightly more relaxed while binging on netflix? How about instead of sitting, wasting our time awake doing nothing and going nowhere, we try standing up while we do some shit, huh? And if you’re too tired to fucking stand up, then you should probably pack it in and go to bed, jackass.

Think about it. Do you ever hear people in wheelchairs talking about how fucking thrilled they are to be sitting down all the time? No! They fucking hate that shit, and well they should, because it’s dumb as hell.

If you’re sitting down while you’re reading this, kindly slap yourself in the genitals and then stand up and go get some ice.

Oh, really insightful commentary happening here, you college graduate you. So you just take anything that anybody says, jam the word fuck into a few dozen times, write something gross about somebody’s sweaty genitals and OFF WE GO, huh?

And by the way, will you cut it out with the all capital letter schtick? It’s the mark  of a LAZY, INEPT writer, who lacks the skills to form a sentence  that would actually effectively communicate the intent using the regular-ass rules of the English fucking language.

But in all seriousness, keep posting repetitive nonsense in the vacuous nothingness of tumblr and then clogging up everybody’s newsfeed with it. It’s really winning you a lot of friends and respect. This is totally how all your stupid fucking heroes got their start.

And way to go meta on like the fourth day of the tumbler’s existence. I’ve attached a picture of the tumblr taken from an outside perspective.

0/5 stars

Oh look, a colorful little dot of sugar and BULLSHIT.

Were they trying to make a skittle that tasted like dead horses and broken condoms, because if so, then we’ve got a five fucking star review on our hands. But since that packaging doesn’t mention rotten flesh or raw pig intestines, I’m going to assume this was meant to be a candy that a human being would enjoy eating in which case it is an ABJECT fucking failure.

The only positive thing I can come up with to say about purple skittles is nothing at all because honestly it’s one of the shittiest things I’ve ever put in my mouth, and I’ve literally had an asshole in (on?) my mouth.

If you find yourself on a deserted island, and all you have to eat are purple skittles, I advise smashing your own head in with a fucking rock.

First of all, this is nothing like the movie. So right out of the gate it’s getting 0/5 on the “faithful adaptation” front.

Basically, it’s just a bunch of fucking cars sitting there. It’s just about the stupidest fucking thing in the world. And when you’re in it, you’re thinking “well, there must be something up ahead that’s causing this” but usually the cause is just that there are too many shitty stupid people in the area who all have to drive their giant stupid cars everywhere all the time forever.

It’s actually worse when there IS a cause, because it’s always like, a not-that-bad accident, or, a single lane closure for repair, and it’s like… did every single one of you complete fucking idiots in your god damn stratuses SLOW DOWN to look at this?! Did you actually think “oh, I’m almost out of the godforsaken traffic that ate up the last hour of my life, but wait, let’s take a moment to appreciate the beauty of that two car pile up. Thank god everyone looks okay.” Like, who gives a rats fucking ass!? Just drive as fast as you can, all the time, then get home and watch faces of death or something, you sick bastard. I could give a fuck what you jerk off too! But do it on your own time, jackass!

Hey fish: Fuck yourself.

You know who lives in the fucking ocean? Just you, idiot. Nobody fucking else. Just all the different dumbass fish. And don’t give me fucking whales and plankton and sponges. Fuck you: You’re fish.

What does a fish do all day? Fucking swims. Just swims. It eats for like four seconds. The rest of the time it just swims around like an asshole. Fucking ants build shit. Dogs dig holes. Bears slaughter fish (nice work, bears). But a fish just fucking floats around until I eat it because this restaurant doesn’t serve steak for some terrible reason.

I’d tell you to look in the mirror and fucking check yourself, but obviously you don’t have mirrors, and you can’t even look at a reflection, the way a stupid bird or some jackass monkey can, because you, like the true fucking morons you are, have chosen to live UNDER the god damned WATER.

Anyway, good luck out there, you’re going to need it. We’re going to keep putting all our piss and shit and cigarette butts inside the water, so maybe if you feel like not being a stupid fucking dead fish you’ll get your fucking life together and join us on the god-damned land.

But until then, fuck yourself.

Signed,

Have you ever been awoken by a playful dog, cat, or child jumping on your stomach? It’s fucking disconcerting, right? Imagine that happening to your penis every single morning of your entire life, and now you’ve got a pretty good idea of what Morning Wood is all about: fucking up the start of your day.

Oh sure, there’s the one in a million chance that you’ll have an actual lover next to you who’s interested in this all-of-a-sudden fully formed hard-on. Or maybe, if it’s Sunday, you’ve got enough time to masturbate before church. But more than likely, you’re going to have to exit your bed, raging boner pointing your way to the bathroom like a divining rod, where you’ll try and take a piss and end up getting it all over god-knows-where because sometimes your piss goes totally off the fucking deep end when you try and piss with a hard on. All bets are completely off and you’re equally likely to start your day with piss on your own face as you are to actually hit the bowl and avoid splash back.

Call me old-fashioned, but I like to be in control of my OWN erections, the way Pfizer intended.

You fucking cowards. You are the scum of the fucking dictionary. You think it’s funny to just fuck around with the written and spoken words of the english language? You’re worse than a fucking adverb.

If you’re going to hide out in perfectly good American words like “knocking” or “gnome”, then you better fucking make sure that you’re heard. Because otherwise you’re taking up ink, confusing people learning to read and write, and basically just fucking up everybody’s communication for no good god damned reason at all.

That’s why I’m writing. It’s time for you to get the fuck out. Nobody here wants to see you again. We’ll be just calling the “sychic” hotline and listening to “narels” barkley. So pack up all your fucking extra p’s and leftover j’s and just get the fuck out of there. Because I honestly can’t guarantee your safety if you hang around.

Do you remember when œ was a part of the english alphabet?