very recently, a regular visitor to this blog said that my writing is getting from bad to worse. she said that it was mediocre, shallow and a complete waste of time.
i’d say, without a doubt, yes. certainly, affirmative, spot on, 20 points and do you want to go to bonus round.
let me explain. and i’m being dead honest here.
i hate you.
i hate the lives you lead. i hate the people you live with. i hate your parties. i hate your small talk. i hate what you do for a living. i hate how you do it. i hate who you do it for. i hate your parents. i hate your relatives. i hate your pets. i even hate the people you hate.
all of you. i hate all of you.
and i hate you too much to explain why.
if there was a little red button to push to kill you all, i would have pushed it yesterday.
see, it’s like this. i’m a misanthrope with jilted plans of world domination and an obvious lack of talent. so, given the lack of access to a nuclear solution, how do i wreak my malevolence on you.
the answer’s pretty simple, really.
i mean, if chetan bhagat can do it, why can’t i. it requires zero effort, it completely wastes time you could have spent doing something more worthwhile (like playing football with the little critter you spawned or fellating your friends, for instance) and some fuckheads actually like it.
think about it. people say you destroy five minutes of your life with every cigarette you smoke. my longer stories definitely destroy more of your time. and it costs to produce a cigarette. it costs me zilch to write.
there. i hope that explains that.
and fuck you.