9: People who make, buy or sell a Snuggie

December 30, 2008

God, I fucking hate people who make, buy or sell a Snuggie.

Have you seen these things? They are essentially large fleece blankets with sleeves and a hood that you wear.

That’s right. Blankets. That you wear.

Sometimes in public.

If you haven’t seen the infomercial, it’s either the most hilarious or most disturbing two minutes you’ll spend on this planet. Here, I’ll let you decide:

Now, if you are over the age of 70, and you sit in a chair for over 6 hours a day in a drafty house in the Midwest or the Northwest or the Northeast, and have relatively little to no human contact whatsoever, then I will not judge you for purchasing a Snuggie. If you give the extra one as a gift to a family member or friend who is not as I have described above, I will hunt you down and put your Tuesday meds in the Saturday box. And then I will push you down the stairs.

But, in all honesty, who in THEIR RIGHT FUCKING MIND would either A) think this was a good idea for a product to sell, B) think this was a product good enough to buy, or C) wear this thing in public? Who has negative self-respect to the point that they would want to not only look like a poor wizard in public, but would wittingly and knowingly ask other people to dress like them and GO OUT INTO FUCKING PUBLIC LOOKING LIKE A GODDAMN RETARDED CULT?*

If you bought a Snuggie, please, please, please, PLEASE do me a favor and contact me and tell me your thought process. Seriously. I really want to know if sane, “normal” people out there are buying this thing. So please, if any of you out there have purchased or know the identity of someone who has purchased a Snuggie, e-mail the proprietor of this site.

And then promptly swallow the round, hollow end of a gun.

*Some insults inspired by commenters on the YouTube video.

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8: People who have been doing this for a bit longer, but not nearly as well

December 16, 2008

God, I fucking hate people who have been doing this for a bit longer, but not nearly as well.

Like this guy. This site was pointed out to me about a month ago by a friend of mine across the country, who Googled the phrase “GodIhatepeople” and came up with two sites: that Neanderthal’s, and mine.

Granted, his was started first, so the title is his. But if you look closely you’ll note that I added “fucking” to the main header. And that’s all you need to know about that. Besides, it’s too late to change the name now. Sue me.

Also, in his “About Me” page, he says that “I am not writing this for you. I don’t give a shit about you (read above). I’m writing this for me. I get a kick out of putting my thoughts down in type, and reading them later.”

Yes. I don’t want you to read my thoughts, so instead of writing them down in a notebook or on a disk or a hard drive (he said his hard drive “crashed” and he didn’t have any backups) I guess I’ll just PUT THEM ON A WEBSITE WHICH IS ACCESSIBLE TO PRETTY MUCH THE ENTIRE FUCKING PLANET. Jesus. I’m sure there’s some way to set who couldn’t see your work. Namely, everyfuckingbody but yourself, you egomaniacal shitshark.

But he’s attained not one but two flat screens (37 and 50-inch) “on a whim” without the benefits of a college education, which means he’s either A) a bookie, B) a drug dealer, or C) a telemarketer. So he’s got that going for him, which is nice.

Finally we come to this site, which was just pointed out to yours truly in the comments of the previous post. I won’t say much here because, for the most part, they attack the same people that I hate and they’re a tad more prolific than I. But, in my defense, I do it with proper punctuation and hard-core doses of pure, simmering vitriol, which explode in cascades of creative cursing and inventive ways to off somebody. So I’ve got that going for me, which is nice.


7: People who ask me for money and have no Goddamn right to

December 3, 2008

God, I fucking hate people who ask me for money and have no Goddamn right to.

Normally this happens pretty much every fucking day. Luckily, though, for whatever reason (cold weather driving them south? karma? “Scowling for Dummies”?) it hasn’t happened to me much as of late.

Yesterday, though, I was walking back to work from running an errand and these two kids, around 14 or so, asked a man walking a few feet in front of me for some money “to get some lunch.”

A) Lunch? It was about 3 o’clock. What, juvie served meatloaf again?

B) They had nicer shit than me. New clothes, nice shoes. Probably an iPhone. I can’t even access the internet on my shit, you little bastards. And I had not only my girlfriend’s birthday this last weekend but also an NFL game to go to; unless your daughter’s getting married I can’t think of one thing in the world that will suck the money out of your wallet faster than those two occasions. So I was 100% certain that those two kids had more on them than me, and probably the guy they hit up for a donation.

The point is, no matter where you live, especially if it’s a metropolitan area (like New York), you’re bound to run into some panhandlers asking for your change. On the subway, on the off-ramp, outside the mudhole – they’re everywhere.

Now, I’m sure a good portion of them are people who have lived long, hard, difficult, thoroughly shit-upon lives. Veterans come to mind – those people have been so resoundingly shat on they should be sponsored by Charmin. And I give to some of them when I can.

But for every lazy little punk kid who thinks it’s funny to try and ciphon somebody’s hard-earned cash just because there’s nothing fucking better to do, or for every wasted, filthy transient who thought it would be fun to hitchhike across the country, shoot up a metric ton of heroin, write heartfelt and/or witty passages that no one bothers to read on scraps of cardboard, get a shitty tattoo on their neck and drag along a poor, hungry dog for the ride, I ask you a question: you want my money? You want my fucking money?

Sure.

Only I’m going to find a shotgun, modify it to shoot pennies, and fire two of them right in your fucking ear.

There’s my two cents.