This blogger has reached his mid-fifties. And is no longer as patient and forgiving as he was during his callow youth. He does not wish well on the entire world, and will never agree that it takes all kinds.
There are very many we can well do without.
I can name names if I have to.
Some new rules:
Do not make me tolerate your ill-mannered brat. No, I do not care that he or she is precious, and must be convinced that something I do is bad and deserving of juvenile chastisement. Trust me, I will smack the little shit into traffic if I have to.
Your dog is a nasty little crap-machine that is occupying my space and pooing on my doorstep. We can change that.
Marijuana is evil, people who smoke it are losers. Especially that shrill vegetarian catfreak in Oakland, as well as the dipwad who spends all weekend at his office downtown to avoid his wife.
If your baby carriage is on the same sidewalk as me, I will give it a wide berth. I will NOT put my pipe out. You can dump your baby, however, and perhaps you should have ditched it with the load of bathwater.
Life is too short to deal with puritans and entitled people.
You should leave.
No one cares about the meaningfulness of your tattoos.
Just shut up.
Now, has everybody got that?
Provided you understand where I am coming from here, we can get along fine. I will not smoke in your house, nor in the coffee shops that you frequent, and you will kindly get off my sidewalk and out of my way. Silently. I do not care about your opinion. You, your idols, and your religio-healthnut spokespersons, are all odious cretins.
This post written in sincere appreciation (is that the right word?) of self-righteous San Francisco harridans of all genders and ages, as well as the most self-absorbed region in the known universe: Marin County.
There's also Berkeley, but there is no intelligent life there.
You are all dingleberries.
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