Everybody Sucks. Wait, No.... Oh. Yes, They Do.

Goddamn, people. I nearly lost all faith in humanity these last two weeks. And I am rife, I say, RIFE with faith in humanity, if nothing else. Faith in humanity and nacho cheese Doritos. Okay, faith blah blah, the Doritos and pictures of dogs dressed as people. I am rife with nothing else. I teem with many things, however.

But I nearly became devoid of faith in my fellow man ('devoid of' and 'rife with' mean the opposite from one another).

Some pigfucker stole my stereo. Stole it. Broke out my back side window, unlocked my passenger door, stole my motherfucking deck, and a couple of CDs, LOCKED MY DOOR AGAIN, and left. Son of a bitch.

And it wasn't even like it was a good stereo. I mean, it was okay. Kind of like this one, except this one's a Winamp skin. But it looked like this. Probably still does.. A thoroughly middle-of-the-road stereo. And some asshole stole it.

Here's what bothers me:

Just before the new year, some other douchebag stole two grand from my girlfriend's bank account by double-scanning her client card and filming her PIN. We got it back, no big whoop. But they stole two grand from us. And got two grand from themselves.

Now here comes Johnny Fuckface to steal my stereo. He bashes out my window, et cetera. See above. He cost me my three hundred dollar deductible, plus half of what my deck's worth, plus a giant pain in the ass. And he's going to get what for it? fifty bucks? Maybe? If he sells it to a blind kid?

All I have to say about him is I hope someone finds him and has sex with him against his will. And I hope they have a vinegar-soaked chainsaw for a penis.

Okay. Said my piece about him.

What else... Hey, I'm finally finished with the Columbia House DVD Club... after mistake after mistake, they sent me coupons for two free movies (Last Samurai and Snatch were our choices), and promised they'll never send me another selection of the month again. All I had to do was tell them very clearly on eight occasions that I never received those selections and wasn't going to pay for them. I did, of course receive those selections, but the part about not paying was a hundred percent true.

Motherfucker. I can't believe he came into MY UNDERGROUND PARKING FRIGGIN GARAGE to steal a stereo. And it's not like Jeeps aren't ridiculously easy to break into. Honestly. Stand next to one, close your eyes and picture a Slim Jim. Not even the thievin' tool, I mean the meat snack. It'll unlock right away. Vacuuming shards of tempered glass out of a backseat fucking sucks. So does duct-taping cardboard over your window so you can drive to your parents' place because they have a Shop-Vac.

I know. I said I was done. I intimated directly that I, in a conversational sense, was shut of the emotional stress caused by that child molesting stereo thief.

I hope he dreams of having all his limbs amputated and living the life of a freak and dying as an impoverished leper. I hope the dream goes on forever, that he dreams of his entire life, praying for death but unable to finish things like a man. And then I hope he wakes up, and it actually happens, and he has that dream every night for the rest of his miserable life. And he wakes up every day to polish his only posession, an Sony Xplod CD player, and bemoan his cowardess in not taking his own life.

Oh, so Joel's got this cool recording thing going on. You should check out his blog too; there's a link on the right to that (Junkyard Diggity) and then probably he's linked to the myspace page where you can hear the tunes. Cool stuff. Neato bass playings, Joel.

Son of a whore. I know, this is getting old.

Seriously. I hope he falls in love with a beautiful girl, and then finds out that his grandmother invented a time machine in her youth, and that he's been having sex with his grandmother for, like, three months. And she's a fa-reak. And she's a man.