I hate roadside memorials. "Hey my friend plowed into this tree and split his head in half...here's a flower." I hate candle light vigils. "Hey my friend got shot by a deranged gun nut let's march with candles." I hate when famous people die and asshole fans leave stuffed animals and flowers and notes and other assorted shit outside their house. "Hey Michael Jackson died, I'm gonna go to his house and leave a stuffed monkey to show the depth of my loss. Sure I didn't know princess Diana but that's not gonna stop me from bringing a pile of crap to Buckingham palace and crying like a hysterical autistic kid when some asshole in the media comes over to ask me why she was so special. Get a life, Stupid Douche fucks.
They're dead, they can't accept your lame ass tokens and could give a rats ass. Move on, give some flowers to someone who's actually alive and might appreciate them. Memorials are for idiots who want to make a spectacle of themselves pretending they care, but it's really about them. Michael's dead? Watch me mourn. I'm the best mourner out there...did you see how empathetic I am and how very deeply I felt about this? See how sensitive I am? I'm so awesome. Where's my candle, I've got a vigil to go to for Darfur rape victims.
When I die, lay me out, throw my ass in hole, get drunk, tell stories about what a dick I was and have a good laugh, wake up with a hangover and think about me every now and then. That's enough and if I see one fucking stuffed animal I'm haunting your ass.
2 comments:
Can I smoke your remains?
(Standing and applauding) I thought I was the only fucker in the world who thought this way. Every time I bitch about "Professional Mourners" my wife calls me a heartless bastard.
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