Tuesday, December 13, 2005


In the vein of one of my favorite communities from the increasingly less interesting Orkut, Misanthropy, I'd like to wax misanthropic for a minute. God, I fucking hate people. Is it the holidays? Is it this job? What is it. Why do they suck so bad. I had a 45 minute argument this morning with a "customer" immediately followed by a 45 minute argument with my boss about the argument.
And then I saw Max in South Station. In an apparent effort to get arrested so he'd have a reason to sue the cops, he started, at the top of his lungs, telling me his version of The Aristocrats, which included him smashing a clipboard over the head of a person who asked for his website, him doing unspeakable things to the man with the clipboard, while the man's family graphically fornicated with eachother. All this at typical Max volume, prompting a woman to come up to him and ask him if he knew how loud he was talking and if he knew that there were children around. I couldn't decide who I was more irritated by at that moment. Anyways, I empathize with this reader of Deadspin, who writes "Skip, I'd like to bash you over the head with this flaming crowbar covered in wasps". You're a douchebag, Skip Bayless. Go to hell.

ahhh. that's better.

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