Tuesday, November 22, 2011


Oh it has been so long... so long since the ancient power of rant has been unleashed upon the world. For far too long it has remained dormant... sleeping in the bowels of my vocal chords smoldering volcano, just waiting to explode further in a fiery all enveloping explosion of venom, dousing the lands in a cacophony of raging hatred. You get the picture.


Goddammit stop whistling!! It seems every fucking where I go these days, be it on the bus, out for a walk, into the mall to do some Christmas shopping, there is a plethora of absent minded dullards strolling through their feckless existence whistling. Whistling fucking tunes they make up in their pea brained minds that only serve to demonstrate that they should not attempt to get off their Unemployment Benefit by becoming a musician. As soon as I hear the shrill tones of some tool come sauntering by with his retarded bird song impression, I first want to shove ipod speakers in my ears, and if none are handy I want to sacrifice my very hearing itself to God in exchange for a promise to fry these dickheads with holy lightning bolt vengeance. STOP WHISTLING.

2. Christmas Family Gatherings.

Oh dear sweet lord no. Apparently the universe despises me about as much as I despise whistlers and thus has conspired to place all of my fun relatives half the world away and leave me with the absolute dregs. And when I say dregs, I mean the type that will ensure a 4 hour conversation piece dealing with nothing but the state of Auckland roads, credit cards and their relative merits and which flowers go better with which God forsaken house fuck knuckle paint. Oh and let's not forget that old chestnut of "Gee Scott, what are your plans for the future?" My only plan for the future is to not end up like you, asking some poor young boy who is sitting there yearning for the sweet embrace of death what his plans for the future are.

3. Christmas Family Gatherings not accepting my topics of conversation.

Yes, this is a follow up. So I TRY my damndest to submit a list in advance of what I would like to talk about at Christmas. AND NOTHING ON THE LIST EVER COMES UP. I mean, surely Christmas is a time when EVERYBODY should be happy. Thus, I demand you pacify me by agreeing to an indepth discussion on psychic phenomena, the mind body problem or at fucking least the relative merits of the My Dying Bride discography.

4. Those people you have to buy presents for because they're going to get you something, but you also know the thing they're getting you will be fucking almonds or some shit.

Damn you leeches. You are like parasites, sucking at the very outer limbs of my life, clinging on just tight enough to force me to spend my time buying you inane things to compensate for the fact that you'll likely get me almonds, which I wont eat anyway. Seriously, FUCK ALMONDS. Or maybe to mix things up, this year you'll give me a voucher instead, for all you can eat Almonds at the Almonds Shop (aka Lucifer's Throne). Now take this awesome present I broke the bank for you and be thankful that I am such a better person than you.

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