You’re Not Giving Me A Lot Of Information to Judge You On, Fuckface

11/05/2012 · 43 comments

in Psychological Warfare,Social Services,What Is Wrong With You?

We should not judge others on the color of their skin, disabilities, and a large number of other out-of-control factors that don’t pertain to one’s personhood or life. We should learn to accept that others are different than we, and it doesn’t make them better or worse. Indeed, one glimpse of someone’s life isn’t usually enough to judge their entire personality on.

Sometimes, though, the quick glimpse of someone’s personality you’re given is so bad, so glaringly against social code and all reasonable morals and explanations, that you absolutely should judge them, you should call them on it, and you should REDEEM.

To the Gray Lexus ES 35o On The Haskell Ramp Of I-75,

I hope you go to Hell. I sincerely, desperately, wantonly wish you an express ride across the River Styx into the many rings of anal brutality and tears-lubed forced masturbation that await you.

I, and the 6 cars in front of me, were all waiting patiently in the only lane designated to enter the ramp. The signs are so clear, and the traffic so light, that there was no need for anyone to jump aside to make room, no need for understandable lane-jostling. Naturally, I did not assume anyone was about to ruin my entire life with the most brilliant demonstration of arrogance outside of Trump Tower.

Out of fucking nowhere, you (without a blinker) fisted (sans-lube) your ridiculously expensive Camry (same car, twatwaffle) into the 2 feet of space between my car and the car in front of me, and tapped my bumper on the way in. I had to brake, knowing that we were up against a 12-foot concrete barrier, and that I did not want to be a victim of vehicular manslaughter via bastard. Had I not been the only motherfucker paying attention, you would have literally killed me with stupid. Literally slain me, a much younger dumb blonde who was obeying the law and general social order, with your incomprehensible arrogance.

Perhaps, I thought in the second after I had to save both of our lives so you could get the perfect shuffle on your playlist, that there was no space behind me. Nope, I was the last car in the line, but you damn well showed me your social dominance with that giant dick-slap of a cut-off.

Boy, it sure was awkward when we were immediately trapped in stand-still traffic–right next to one another.

I hope you enjoyed the unreasonably loud playing of the entire soundtrack to A Goofy Movie.

To The Car Of Bros Who Chose To Ruin Everyone’s Day At The Intersection Of Maple and McKinney,

I hope your father revoked his love that night. I wish it with my entire soul and with the built-up hatred of 25 years of Daddy Issues, because I cannot believe how awful you are.

The traffic was heavy, Lord I know. It was the night of the Texas-OU game, and despite it being hours and hours before, everyone was still out partying–especially on McKinney, which is where Khloe and Lamar used to hang out. I know there are a thousand cabs waiting outside that restaurant and that traffic was literally only letting one or two cars pass per light change. We were all frustrated.

You had a choice that night, sir. You had a choice to obey the newly-imposed and frustrating–but temporary–intersection protocol and wait patiently for the intersection to be clear before you went ahead. You choose poorly.

You made eye contact with me, flipped me off, and then drove right in front of me, hoping to eek onto that last little bit of McKinney before the light changed and you blocked everyone. You failed.

Instead, when the light changed to red almost instantly, you ruined the days of everyone who’d been patiently waiting for a half-hour to get across one road to go home, and to my utter delight, you were planted right in front of my grill. You wisely advised the other bros in your car–your Brossengers–to look away from me, instinctually knowing you’d incurred my wrath.

I had a grand time waiting that extra 12 minutes for you to move forward thanks to a Divine taxi-brawl blocking your way, with my brights on. I loved walking up to your window and seeing your terrified eyes–once so brazen–planted in your lap while I called you and your friends fucking douchebags with the tiniest possible dicks who serve no purpose unto mankind other than to ruin other people’s lives with your arrogance and entitlement.

I also hope you enjoyed me blasting Boomer Sooner for the remainder of our wait.

I’m going to get arrested one day, and I’m not going to give a shit about it.

Ever redeemed yourself or others from the arrogance and entitlement of others? Ever seen someone receive ‘divine redemption’ for acts of douchery?

Favorite Comment From The Last Post:
From Dana the Biped: “To be fair, RL Stine’s ghostwriters>EL James. By a lot.” 

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