Rant: Engage.

DISCLAIMER: I am more than a little bitter tonight, and have chosen today's blog as a means of blowing off some steam. If I offend anyone personally, consider yourself warned before continuing. If you choose to read the whole entry, I applaud you and would love for this to turn into a post in which everyone feels free to bash anything that currently gripes them. That is all.


Do you know what gets on my nerves? Hippies. Sorry, Ms. Gatchell, if you're reading this, but you are far cooler than the reaaal dumbass white rasta hippies who sit around and smoke up all day while trying to really "connect with the earth spirit" and find themselves. I mean, come on, no one wants to be this guy. Call me what you want, but when I see groups of hippies hanging around together building a collective stink of a cumulative lack of showering since the Clinton administration, I have trouble keeping it inside.


Generally related, PETA. Sorry, animal crusaders. I respect your plight, I fully support all the nudity you flash around all over the place, hell, I even appreciate some random anti-fur terrorism from time to time. But get creative. Put yourself in your victim's shoes. So what if you throw flour or red paint on them? How would you like it if they answered back by throwing dead minks at you?



Next on my list: rice rockets. See, I live in a part of town that is predominantly Asian. It's cool. I always joke that I was raised Asian because so many of my classmates were. I enjoy diversity and am well aware that there is worlds more than geography that separates Chinese and Japanese. The one main down side of this part of town is that I am constantly having to deal with (generally speaking) Asian males between the ages of sixteen and twenty four who think that they might win a part in the next installment of "The Fast and the Furious". I realize I'm stereotyping, and I am not saying that all Asian males of that age range have them, I'm just saying that the preponderance of drivers who own those cars tend to fit into that classification. Still, it is frustrating when I am trying to fall asleep at the moderate hour of one in the morning, that I have to hear those muffler-less pieces of crap barrel-assing down my driveway and bottoming out on the speed bump that is almost directly outside of my bedroom window.

Finally, one last target for tonight, and that's hipster boys who are far too hipster for their own good. I mean, I have friends who consider me a hipster (though they're a little misguided). My bar tends to be a hipster bar, even. But if you look like you don't have enough body mass to support the giant mass of keys hanging from your caribiner, you have a problem. Here's an idea: drink a beer, give up heroin, trade in your fixie, buy some pants that fit, get a job, and contribute to society for a change. You can't all be baristas the rest of your life. And no, that band was no better when you saw them in someone's garage rather than at a local venue. And no, you're not a better person for having seen them "before they sold out."