or; not really. But it was GOING to be.
If there's one thing you need to know about me, I have no patience for stupidity. In fact, it's one of the most infuriating things I encounter on a regular basis. Few things will cause me to fly off on someone quicker than their foolishness.
Now, usually in person, I hide this absolute contempt beneath a veneer of niceties; I maintain my cool, and keep from getting out of control. (If there's one thing I can do better than most anyone, it's keep my cool – just ask Cedarbird, because it pisses her off.) Most of the idiotic horde have no idea of the boiling rage bubbling right beneath the smile.
But in an anonymous setting like the internet, I don't feel as compelled to pull my punches – because, frankly, chances are mighty slim I'll ever see any of you retards face to face. Thus, what is my motivation to not tell you exactly how I feel? Exactly – I have none.
Yet still, more often than not, I find myself pulling my punches online, just like I do in a face-to-face setting. And it begs the question: why?
Why do I continue to attempt to foster a friendly relationship with people I can't stand?
Why do I suffer these idiots, without telling them exactly how I feel?
This is a question I genuinely want the answer to. In the meantime, I'm gonna be an ever bigger snot than I have previously. So, yeah. Not sorry.
If I correct your spelling or grammar, rather than discuss the “points” you made in your article or post – your happy crappy was completely undeserving of my attention, so I'll get my jollies out of ridiculing your horrible “English”.
If I call you names, know that I mean every single one of them.
When you miss the boat in my or another's post, I'm going to make fun of you. (If it's my post, I'm really going to make fun of you. And your mother.)
(And to think: this article began as a discussion about the merits of Eugenics. Yes, I'm an elitist pig.)
Hame hovit.