The Best of Me? Could you be anymore pretentious?

I was reading my older posts today, trying to figure out whether the quality of my blogs have gone downhill or up. I'm gonna pat myself on the back as far as quality control goes, although my blogs back then were a bit different. They were rant sessions, pre-meditated attempts at being funny. I mainly tried to use my site as a podium to express my disdain towards dumbasses, supernatural belief, bad teenage poetry, conventional wisdom, etc. But anyways, I saw one post that I am particularly proud of. It was a good old fashioned goth bashing. I wrote it before I really had any readership, so it went criminally overlooked. So in a very pretentious move, if i do say so myself, i'm gonna repost this old gem from October 13, 2004, because I don't feel like writing today. So here you have it, the best of me!


Hey everybody, I'm a self-deprecating bundle of misdirected teenage angst!

I wrote a little poem today. Although i can't say I actually wrote it - I was merely a catalyst of profundity, as if the words were already arranged in some elusive lode of objective truth waiting to be mined. Well I mined baby, and this shimmering nugget of wisdom was digested on paper as of today: Wednesday of October 2004 or some shit. It goes a little something like this:

Goth
people
aren't
too bright...

Literally

***

Fucking brilliant. Listen to me you little goth quacks, I know you hate life. Life is a bitch sometimes, it'll kick you in your nads and raise your voice a whole octave... and while you plead with it to stop stomping on your nads in that high pitched tenor squeak you call a voice, it'll stomp on your nads some more, until you don't even give a shit that your balls are mangled beyond repair cuz you can't even muster up enough care in the first place to give a fuck about a fuck - cuz life will get you that down.

And you know what? That pain from your nuts may travel up your sides, penetrating your kidney and perhaps make you wanna puke. You know what you do then? Fucking puke, you'll feel much better. But you little shits aren't puking and moving on. When I puke, i wipe my mouth, gargle some water, clean off my shoes, and move the fuck on. But no, you guys are hobbling around grabbing at your balls like "oooh no, life kicked me in the balls, let me just savor this fucking pain... I hate myself so much, this pulsating pain that has resonated in my now-unidentifiable ballsack for years is the perfect nervous system accessory to go along with this self-deprecating pile of flesh and disgust I call a life".

What about when your pimpled ass has to get a job, what then huh? Oooh nooo, conformity. Pleeease, Mr. Normal, anything but conformity... You pathetic little turd. The only people that should be allowed to dress in all black are bonafied fucking ninjas... or priests. Hey kid, why don't you do yourself a favor and do what the song says... ya know, that one that's like "GRRRRRRR WRAAAAA KIIILLL YOOUR PAAARENTS GRRR WRAAAA". But lets spice things up a bit, before you do that, off yourself. Ya little freak of nature, you're not a church in the 14th century, the whole goth chapter of history has been closed. But you continue to give outcasts a bad name, I thought that could never be done...