Anger is an Energy

Can't recall exactly where we found this meme**, but as our tank is just about empty, we thought this would make for a quick and breezy way to generate content for this, the laziest blog in the 11215. Herewith, Five Things We Hate That Everyone Else (Inexplicably) Loves:

1) The Beach: Everything about the beach sucks like that dude from the Spin Doctors trying to eke one last puff out of his Marmaduke Cock bong. (No really; we saw one for sale on Craig's List.) We hate the sand, which gets on and in everything; we hate the sun, which burns our skin and makes us sweat; we hate the water, which is little more than a cauldron of tooth-studded death; we hate the boredom and the lousy music from the people two blankets down and the children and the seagulls and the weird shark egg sacks that wash ashore and seeing hairy back fat quiver as Men Who Should Know Better cavort without their shirts.

2) Other People: No use for 'em. Think about it: Every time you're standing in an interminable line at the bank, who's in front of you? Other People. And whenever somebody grabs the last seat on the train in the morning when you've not quite got your sea legs yet, who's responsible for making you stand? Other People. And who's that screwing the cute brunette on the other side of the office, the one that looks like she probably has a really good CD collection and whose idea of recreation is likely to be something along the lines of a little beer, a little pot and a whole lot of knickers-free lolling around on her featherbed? You guessed it: Other People. Other People also make more money, are blessed with solid stools and don't hear voices*** whenever they bend down to tie their shoes. Hate, hate, hate.

3) The White Stripes. For about 30 different reasons, none of which have to do with their actual songs. And while we know that this is the kind of hipster douchepickle reductionism that makes talking about music with anyone in this blasted metropolis such a fucking chore, we still think the peripheral aspects of a band are pretty important. (For example, we had a hard time admiring Arcade Fire because one of the guys in the band looks a little like that Napoleon Dynamite turkey.)

Here are a few of the things that drive us to distraction whenever we find ourselves contemplating Jack White's little rock n' roll combo:

a) Enough already with trying to convince me that Meg White is some kind of indie love goddess. If she worked at a bank, you wouldn't take a second look at her. Besides, she plays drums like John Bonham, only retarded someone falling down a flight of stairs with a tray full of martini glasses.

b) The whole Chinatown she's-my-sister, she's-my-wife shtick is at once clownish and boring. No one cares.

c) Telling people that Elephant is about “the death of the sweetheart” and attempting to maintain some kind of tubercular viscount's sense of doomed romanticism was bad enough. But courting Renee “Citrus Puss” Zellwegger and handing out beatings to the pimply guy in Von Bondies suggests that Jack White isn't so much finding it harder to be a gentleman every day as he's just bughouse crazy.

4) Non-Smokers. Don't get us wrong, we don't smoke. Never have, never will. Not tobacco, anyway. But we don't care what anyone says: Girls who smoke, fuck. Not necessarily us, mind you, but there you have it. We have nothing but empirical evidence to back up our blanket generalization--ask us sometime about the ineffable superiority of oral sex when administered by waitresses--and you're free to take our assertion with a healthy dose of skepticism. But we know what we know.

5) Carbon: We don't care if carbon is the building block of life, the greatest element in the entire periodic table is Lithium, because it keeps us from trying to fuck the toaster. Carbon can go suck it.


** Oh wait, now we remember.

***For the record, these voices are those of ornery Muppet octogenarians Stadler and Waldorf. We shit you not.