Seriously. Screw yourself. You suck. You are the person I have to deal with all day, every day. You tell me how I should review movies, how I should talk about music, how I should feel about television. And I want to tell you, right now and forever, to screw yourself. I hate you. I despise you. Whenever you show up in someone I like, I want you dead. Like, DEAD, dead.

Screw this. I can’t pull a thousand word rant like I did in the early days of this thing. The early days were in August. What early days. You know what? I hate Blade RunnerBlade Runner can suck my dick. If you’re gonna make a legendary movie, you know what it needs? A story. And you know what Blade Runner has? Ideas. Lots of ideas. It has a lot of ideas, that it just sorta meanders around without really putting any characters into them.

Hey you, dickface, tell me, right now: What’s Deckard like as a person? Is he determined? Is he shy? Is he businesslike? Hell, you don’t even know if he’s a HUMAN BEING, straw Blade Runner fan! You don’t know the first damn thing about him, and when you ask me “isn’t that interesting” my reply is, was and always shall be “NO IT IS NOT INTERESTING”. He’s a main damn character, why the hell am I asking myself if he likes his job or not?

YOU KNOW WHAT? SCREW EVERYTHING.

You know who I admire?! KANYE WEST. When a guy says he wants to be a supervillain, he’s MF Doom. When a world famous rapper refuses to bow to any of your petty morality or politesse and instead dedicates himself and his time to being the BIGGEST ass a man can be on a world stage, THAT MAN IS A SUPERVILLAIN.

Kanye West is the Lex Luthor of rap, and he isn’t here to take any of your jibber jabber.

Go ahead. Listen to Power. Do it. Right now. What part of that is not the biggest, least warranted screw you to the entire world you have ever heard? You know what I wanted to do this evening? All I wanted to do was play House of the Dead: OVERKILL. Just bought a used copy this afternoon. And you know what I hate? Buying used games.

If I’m buying something, I wanna buy something that I like. And when I’m buying something that I like, I like to be paying the people who made it for putting the effort into it. And you know what buying a used video game doesn’t do? Pay any of those people. It is as effective at paying them as stealing it. Woo! And you know what I should get into? Gamecube games.

Seriously, I have a Wii and I’ve yet to take advantage of this backwards compatibility. I should TOTALLY have done that when I bought the damn system. BLAM, two Gamecube controllers, BLAM, Super Mario Sunshine and Luigi’s Mansion, BLAM, happy happy funtimes. Hell, I could even get Double Dash!!. That would be off the damn hook. And BLAM, I got a Gamecube.

YOU KNOW WHAT THIS IS? THIS IS THE SOUND OF FILLER AND RAGE AND INSUFFICIENCY COLLIDING ON A BLOG. THIS IS THE SOUND OF MY COMMITMENTS TO SOMETHING I’M NOT BEING PAID TO DO OVERRIDING ANY AMBITION I MAY HAVE HAD. THIS IS A CRY FOR HELP AND LIKE ALL OTHERS IN MY LIFE, IT WILL GO ENTIRELY UNHEEDED.

I forget how many times I’ve ever told someone I trusted that I feel nothing but anger at the end of the day. At myself, at everyone around me. I feel nothing but entirely useless to everyone else on earth. I have nothing to offer anyone. I have nothing to feel at the end of the day but hatred. So then, you’re watching Neon Genesis Evangelion for a week, and you hear your favourite character start telling everyone she knows that she feels nothing but hatred, and all of a sudden, you realize why it’s entirely realistic that no one would try to help her. Because we’re all afraid of other people, of reaching out to other people, of trying to help other people. We’re afraid of each other. And rightfully so.

Cos god damn us all, we’re all bastards. We don’t care about any other person for anything more than the cursory emotional satisfaction we can get from them for the shortest amount of time possible. I had a guy tell me in high school that I was wrong to think there were class systems in high school. I told him that being on top means you never see the guys on the bottom. Then he argued against me, like he could change my mind or something.

I don’t know which came first: the songs or the hurt. Paraphrased from the opening lines of one of my favourite novels, High Fidelity by Nick Hornby. In it, a man judges others based on tastes instead of personalities and eventually finds out how tastes are entirely irrelevant to day to day interactions. It was a great message in a book, but all I gotta wonder is: why did my middle school teacher think that that movie, above all others, would resonate with me the way it did? And it did! and it still does!

It’s the story of three counter-cultural loners who sit out in their own little space hating everybody and everything that everybody does. And what part of that does not encapsulate blogging in its entirety? We think we’re important, we like to pretend that someone cares about our troubles. At the end of the day, no one cares enough to keep you jumping off the deep end. No one wants to see you succeed.

They just want to avoid getting hurt for the longest stretch of time.

So sure, I and others who think and talk and act this way may seem entirely uninviting to you. We are. Cos dammit, after twenty long years of being taught that no one is in your corner, you get to thinking that’s the way it is, always will be, always has been, forever should be.

Most depressing filler ever? Screw you.

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