22 Thursday Dec 2011
Posted in from the comment spam, when a simple rant won't do
No, this isn't meant for my friends.
Dear friends, it’s not that I don’t care. That’s not why I’m not going to answer the phone if you call. No, you don’t annoy me, I’m not secretly angry at you about something.
26 Tuesday Jul 2011
Posted in gardening, Uncategorized, when a simple rant won't do
No, it's not black gold
Since we moved to this island three years ago, I’ve been amused by the dichotomy between bambi-lovers and vermin-haters. I’m not amused any more. And I’ve just taken sides. Continue reading »
18 Wednesday May 2011
Posted in when a simple rant won't do
I don’t want to listen to your music drifting down the road from your open windows four lots down, or from the apartment two floors up. I don’t want to listen to your music when I’m trapped on a bus with you. Or on a sunny beach.
News bulletin to the terminally clueless: not everyone likes your musical choices. You are NOT sharing the Best Music in the World. And you are surely not sharing the wonder that is you and your exquisite taste. Your overstuffed self-regarding display is shouting, “Look at me! I am TEH COOLZ!” What kind of pathetic insecurity needs to be noticed that badly? Hey, why not just wear a sign that says “Loser?” It’s a lot quieter way to get your message across. Because, you know, what you are actually communicating is, “I have the brains of a two-by-four and social skills of a bedbug.”
But now you’ve taken it all to a new level, you child of a syphilitic hyena crossed with a three-legged fruitfly, because you’re playing your music WHERE PEOPLE ARE WORKING. Hello? Not all people are able to work effectively when distracted by music. I am one of those people who can’t. And so I particularly don’t want to listen to your music when we’re both sitting at business stations on a ferry and I am trying to try to finish work for an urgent deadline.
Perhaps you’re not clear on the concept of work? Have you been letting mummy and daddy pay the bills so long that you’ve forgotten what it is? You can remember, surely—it’s that activity that requires you to actually use your brain occasionally. Well, perhaps that’s not familiar territory either, you dimwitted nemotode.
Look, let me make it clear, just in case you can’t understand concepts that engage more than 3 braincells at a time: playing your music in a public space intended for working is NOT doing me a favour. When I’m working, I don’t want to listen to your music, you cretinous narcissist. I don’t care what it is. Even if it’s my favourite kind of music, even if it’s not loud, just quietly audible, I DON’T WANT TO LISTEN TO IT WHILE WORKING.
I’m praying for psychokinetic abilities, and when I get them by god I’m going to read your mind so that I know what kind of music you hate most in the world, and I’m going to set it up so that that kind of music follows you wherever you go and plays quietly in your ear. Forever and ever. Even after you go deaf from cranking your earbuds.
No.
I do not want to listen to your music.
