For far too long I’ve sat idly by, twiddling my thumbs and respecting the right of others to form thoughts and opinions independent of my own, and I can’t take it anymore. I’ve got to speak up about the many things that annoy me or I’m going to go crazy. Take these new credit cards with the microchips in them, for instance. Man, those things really get my goat—trying to improve a device that was working perfectly fine as it was. Even worse are those wrappers on CDs that take forever to open. But you know what I hate the most? The one thing that makes my blood boil whenever I see it? Anything beyond my mental capacity, that’s what.
God, all the people, places, and things I haven’t made the least bit of effort to comprehend should just die already.
Will you look at all this stuff I have neither the intellect nor the maturity level to process? What a load of crap. It’s in my face every day, doing lots of things I don’t have an immediate desire to do and saying things I can’t identify with at this stage in my life. How lame is that? I mean, what kind of pathetic loser would actually enjoy something that’s so incredibly not among my personal preferences? Not me, that’s for sure.
Maybe my standards are too high, but if you like any of the hundreds upon hundreds of things that are too multifaceted for my attention span, you should have your head examined, weirdo.
And don’t even get me started on complex and sophisticated notions I can’t possibly wrap my head around. That stuff makes me want to puke. Just knowing there are people out there who like—actually like—interacting with concepts that overwhelm my feeble consciousness makes me embarrassed to be an American. I don’t like it in our homes, I don’t like it in our schools, I don’t like it outside of my comfort zone—well, I just plain don’t like it. And if that makes me closed-minded, well, then I guess I’ll have to dismiss that accusation outright in order to avoid being introspective even for a moment.
Continued at The Onion.