Aaron R. Davis
Because I’m an easily pissed-off old crank, occasionally there comes a time (let’s be honest, once a day or so) when I feel the need to denounce entire segments of the population. So, since someone was foolish enough to give me a public forum for this kind of thing, here are the people I want to separate myself from this week.
Yes, these are only the people who pissed me off this week.
Online advertisers. Look, I just want to check my damn email. I don’t want to wait while my browser gets hung up trying to load all of your ads so I can do it. Keeping me from getting my blog comments, scam emails from the UN Secretary-General, porn offers, Facebook updates and the occasional letter from a genuine friend is a sure way to guarantee that I never buy any of your products.
Michele Bachmann. You want to take away my porn in order to protect your idea of traditional marriage? I’d love to hear what your plan is for shutting down the entirety of the Internet, then. If porn is outlawed, then only outlaws will have porn. You shall know us by our tiredly satisfied smiles and our curiously stronger left arms. Michele, the only way you’re getting me to stop watching porn is if you start starring in it. Why don’t you protect your own marriage instead of worrying about mine? You can start by letting your creepily-preoccupied-with-homosexuals husband out of his closet.
People who support Michele Bachmann. Either you seriously believe all of the dumb shit she says, or you’re just trolling the election system. Either way, you need to get into a sensory deprivation tank until your head clears.
Kids on Tumblr who keep fighting about which is better, Harry Potter or Twilight. Can’t we just agree that you’re both sad and seriously need to find some outdoor activities? When are we just going to make military service mandatory?
People who create Facebook fan pages for their blogs. What is this new trend all about? If you’re seriously doing this, you’d better be putting a lot of stuff on your blog that’s historically interesting or some kind of business news or just a constant flow of cool shit or something. If it’s just you ranting about stuff … hey, leave that to us unpaid semi-professionals.
Those chicks who go on Maury and prove that some little idiot is the father of their baby and then do a stupid victory dance over it. Seriously? Do you think you just won the Lotto or something? Look at this guy. What kind of child support do you think you’re going to get out of this guy? He’ll be lucky to get hired at White Castle with his attitude. Guess you’ll have to wait until his rap career takes off.
The people who drive to my apartment complex’s pool. Okay, I hate this, because it makes me sound like the elitist white guy who doesn’t want to share any of my privilege with the rest of the world, but I pay rent here. This is not a public pool. Quit just driving up from god knows where with everyone you know and taking over my pool. A bra, panties and shower cap are not what the sign means by proper pool attire. And if I were sneaking in somewhere I wasn’t supposed to be, I might keep it down and not piss everyone off, because I wouldn’t want to get caught. And seriously, if you’re going to sit by my pool and be loud and obnoxious and smoke pot, you can at least share it.
People who took their kids to see those Alvin and the Chipmunks movies. I blame you for The Smurfs.
Anyone involved in the making of The Smurfs. Seriously, guys, have you seen the commercials for this thing? They make me wish the world had an off button I could press or something I could unplug to just stop this whole enterprise we half-jokingly call civilization. “There’s a cool breeze in my enchanted forest.” That’s the line you want to sell this thing on? Is there anyone out there over the age of five who’s giggling over that? And seriously, if you’re out there and you’re over the age of five and you’re giggling over that, I can’t in good conscience hold you responsible for the horrible accident where you took a tow-hook to the frontal lobe or a donkey kicked you in the back of the head, but seriously, just stop it. Don’t go see this, it’ll just encourage them to make more. Even if you hate it, you still went to see it, which means you told Hollywood “I’m giving you my money because I like crap, please make Smurfs 2: This One Takes Place in London for Some Fucking Reason.”
Shia LaBeouf. Okay, I don’t want to hear about how you hooked up with Megan Fox. I don’t want to hear about how your naked mom gave you a boner. I don’t want to hear about your dad and drugs and Indiana Jones 5. I don’t want to hear it. Every time you talk, I cringe remembering that I once wrote an article lauding your talent and saying I expected great things from you. You are a classless tool, and I hate Michael Bay and Steven Spielberg for encouraging you and coddling you and protecting you. I guarantee you that if you had compared Michael Bay to Hitler instead of Megan Fox, you wouldn’t have been fired from the franchise. Also, fuck you for putting me in the position of defending Megan Fox.
Michael Bay. Always. Why do you people love this guy so much? He obviously has nothing but contempt for you.
Everyone who went to see Transformers: Dark of the Moon over the weekend and made it the highest-grossing movie of 2011. Because, seriously, fuck you. And fuck you if you pull out that hoary old argument about how “It’s not meant to win Oscars” and “just turn your brain off and enjoy it.” That’s an argument for people who don’t have brains to turn on. I like my brain. I like to enjoy entertainment. I don’t like letting Michael Bay open my skull and put his dick in my gray matter and laugh at me while taking my money. It is possible to make an entertaining movie that is engaging in some way. If you like to remain passive while lights flicker at you, that’s fine. But yeah, I’m going to look down on you the way you look down on me for appreciating my brain. You’ll get over it. I’m just some guy on the Internet with too much time on his hands.
Aaron R. Davis lives in a cave at the bottom of the ocean with his eyes shut tight and his fingers in his ears. You can contact him at firstname.lastname@example.org