This article is inspired by this article, which is one of many annoying fucking articles about how customers need to act towards their waitresses, baristas (which is Italian for “a person who does the same job as the dumpy cash register girl at McDonald’s”), and other service industry lackeys. These articles are bullshit and only exist so the readers can smugly remind themselves that they could never be so inconsiderate as to act like some déclassé customer and ruin some hipster college dropout’s day. Also, if the title of the article doesn’t piss you off (“A Cup of Kindness: Five Things Baristas Want You to Know“), I don’t know what will.
Anyway, here’s an item-by-item counterpoint:
Continue reading ’5 Things I Want You to Know About Starbucks Baristas’
I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again. People who find the comics in The New Yorker funny deserve to be punched in the back of the head. I present to you this abject example of banality:

Seriously, fuck The New Yorker. Unless this is about that whole Haiti thing.
Continue reading ‘Explain To Me Why This Is Funny’
This is Bradley W. Cavanaugh:

AKA Chad Sexington
Ol’ Brad is wanted in Wichita, Kansas for felony theft. Although the wanted poster doesn’t say, and I’m no Columbo, I have a pretty good idea what he has stolen.
Continue reading ‘J’accuse!’

Please Eat a Dick
I recently boughtThe Godfather collection on the Blu-ray Hi Definition HDDVD.com 2.0 what that also vacuums my living room floor while I’m passed out on the couch
. I was so excited to buy it. Firstly, because it’s expensive and it only works on other expensive consumer electronics, and that sends a message to people I don’t know. That message is, “Hey, look at me. I like to buy expensive things. Love me.” Secondly, it’s a great film and I stress the word film. I love great films. I appreciate only great films. Why, I spend most my days at home enjoying fine cinema and showing how smart I am in appreciating them on various message boards on the internet. Fine films such as 300, The Dark Knight, and The Matrix all share a treasured place in my heart and in my film library, neatly tucked away with care and love on my vast shelves of only the finest cinema.
That’s why I was shocked at what I found when I finally got away to opening The Godfather collection, I dunno, like a week or two after I bought it. Continue reading ‘Dear Francis Ford Coppola, Sony, and Best Buy’