Dear Blog Reader
You suck.
Your taste in music is like sitting under the ass of
obscure reference number 12,
whose smell you would know was notoriously similar to
obscure reference number 34,
had you ever bothered to watch pop culture reference number 8,
which you obviously haven't or you would have stopped reading by now.
Your enjoyment of that popular food you think you like
is tearing apart America's soul,
leaving only a barren wasteland
that infamously bad director number 14 wouldn't use for a
planet specific movie set
if he were remaking obscure science fiction reference number 41
with four harems of green women
riding motorcycles in search of their queen,
rumored to be in hiding beneath the ruins of
clever historical reference number 4.
Your misguided attempt to achieve style
is rivaled only by your generation's arrogant presumption
that sharing taste with your friends is
not
an abomination akin to
a mash-up of obscure reference number 19 and pop culture reference number 32,
a comparison as unrelated to the topic at hand
as it is unhelpful in deciphering the nature of this particular criticism.
Your beer tastes bad,
That movie you liked was predictable,
Your city is filled with dumb people,
and
Your politics prove you are about as useless
as extinct animal number 53 in a cockfight
with aging pop culture reference number 16
due to the inevitable but well documented
physically debilitating effects
of time travel.
Give up hope, blog reader,
give up care and trust and joy.
Learn fear and shame and embarrassment.
Learn to judge and hate and condemn,
and maybe someday you, too,
can suck
just a little bit less.
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