Speak At Your Own Risk
by Michele Christopher
Baby Huey steps away from the stove and puts you on the hot seat
I'll admit, I'm generally a pretty angry guy. Put me behind a guy going two miles per hour under the speed limit, and my blood pressure goes through the roof. I hit a bug at work that I can't figure out? I will put my head through my desk. God help me if you make me listen to yet another tech support retard that insists on following a problem diagnosis script AFTER I've told them exactly what's wrong. By and large, I seethe with rage, but I keep it bottled up.
This wouldn't be much of an article, though, if I left it at that. There is one seemingly innocuous thing that will set me off. Words. There are certain words and phrases that make me wish for nothing less than the slow, violent, preferably messy death of the person who uttered them. Let's take a look at a few of them now. Keep in mind that this hatred is completely irrational. I cannot be responsible for logical, reasoned arguments here. Please also note that much of this hatred could be a result of my desperately needing to get laid. I'm not sure.
Seriously people, what is this? Not every word needs to have four or five syllables. Toleration is the worst. What the fuck is so wrong with tolerance? It's one letter shorter, and it's been around MUCH longer. Why do you make me hate? Any vocabulary that has its own generator (No, really) should be exterminated immediately and with extreme prejudice. As a sub-category to this, anybody that turns a noun into a verb (e.g. "action", "leverage", etc.) needs to die a fiery, fiery death.
I'm not opposed to lazy people. I'm one of the laziest motherfuckers on the planet. But if you can't muster up the energy to squeeze out an extra syllable or two through your faceanus, or type those extra 3 characters, you've given up on life. Come on, you can try it. Chillax? Crunk? WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU PEOPLE???
Special sub-category: Portmanteaux involving TV or movies.
They should have done a Schoolhouse Rock about these types of words. That's a song I'd remember.
Inflammatory Political Monikers
Opinions are like assholes: Everyone's got one, and your mom's was full of my cock last night.
I'm gonna find the first guy who ever said "pwn" in a way that was neither ironic nor a typo, and I'm going to storm that castle of suck he calls a head, one orifice at a time. Similarly, the fact that I have people at work -- people in their 40s, people with Ph.D.s, people who make well over 150,000 dollars a year -- saying "ur" and "r u doing this?" to me makes me want to live in Charlton Heston's future where old people are killed and converted into a nutrient-rich food so they can actually be of some use to society. I sincerely mean that.
The day I see a polkacore album is the day the seventh seal is broken, and all I hear are women wailing and men gnashing their teeth. And detuned accordian with double bass drum.
Ohhhh, I get it. You're proud of where you're from. Maybe a rapper did a song about it, or you've got a TV show about your town. That's pretty cool. Hold on, I'll be right back. I've got a phone call from Nobody Fucking Cares. Hey, Shut the Fuck Up is on the other line. I think it's for you. Can I have you call them back?
Baby Huey is 1337!