Some More “Hateful stuff.” (Now With Pictures!)
Hey, so remember that post I made a while back where I made fun of people who choose to deal with traumatic life events by gluing shitty clip art to an index card and mailing it anonymously to a blog? No, you probably don’t. Why not? Probably because it wasn’t very funny, right? Yeah. Well.
I had planned to simply move on and forget all about yet another failure to create a hilarious new schtick. But then— like a unresolved issue buried deep in the past that can only truly be reconciled with / healed by a cliche-rife postcard—came this comment:
Oh, dude, this bummed me out for so long, dude, you don’t even know.
I was losing a lot of sleep. I sent like 4 postcards with my “feelings” on them (anonymously of course) to a popular blog in attempt to “unburden my soul”. Surprisingly I felt nothing. I developed an “eating disorder.” I started cutting again. I bought an acoustic guitar off of Craigslist. People were telling me how rad and edgy I was looking, but I didn’t even care. I was feeling anything but. I felt like a “Hate dude”. It was gnarly. And heavy. Dude.
This whole, horrible period of my life culminated last night while I was shaving my beard at my ex-brother-in-law’s apartment. Which I do every other Monday.
I took off my Aviators and took a long, hard look at myself in the mirror and told myself I was going to kill myself tomorrow. Then someone put a blue filter on all the lights and Elliott Smith started playing from an “iHome” I hadn’t previously noticed and I knew what I had to do— even though I had just finished saying how it was tomorrow that I was going to kill myself and not right that second or else why wouldn’t I have said “I’m going to kill myself right now” … But I was so bummed about being such a “hateful dude” that I wasn’t in a particularly analytical state of mind.
(Plus I figured the “tomorrow” thing was just a cool “homage” to a French new wave film I hadn’t seen and would never see because Netflix doesn’t have it and my local video store closed recently— and though I talk a lot about how everyone should “Support local businesses”, I rarely connect my real, waking life with my 
“ideals” so I justify my switching to Netflix by telling myself it was “greener” than driving to a locally-owned store to rent my movies (but of course when I need a movie, like, right away, I definitely drive) and but so then when my local store closed do you think I didn’t talk about how much of a shame it was that I could no longer drive on a whim and get an “indie” movie and how we’re all living in an age of corporate, internet-driven hegemony and how we’re all totally, completely, fucked? No of course I still talk about it all the time. Support local, k? Homegrown. Unless you can get it cheaper elsewhere. Then, you know, “Go green.” Or whatever.)
So my whole point here is that somewhere between a Royal Tenenbaums reference/joke and a rant about hippies it hit me: Oh wait. This lesbian commenter simply confused “hateful” with “unfunny”. DUDE!!!!
And so I realized: Not only do I need to give credence to a retarded comment left by a Indigo Girls-loving stranger by writing a crazy, long, and unfocused tumblog about it; I also need to educate “the public” by providing a few examples of the difference between “hate” and “not funny.” And then I need to resurrect the whole lame premise of mocking people who are so clearly at their wit’s end that they’re mailing their “secrets” to the Internet instead of owning up to their problems and/or doing something to fix them.
I will overcome this, dude. I know I can do it.
With all that in mind I present: A Few Examples Of Things That Are “Hateful” As Opposed To Being “Merely Unfunny” and, as such, Ultimately Harmless.
Hateful:Racial epithets. (Unless you’re of that particular race, or you’re married to/dating/Facebook friends with someone of that particular race— then, “racism” becomes “irony”. Obv.)
Merely Unfunny: Some bro calling his bros “Nigga” because he misunderstood last night’s three year-old Chappelle’s Show rerun.
Hateful: Cross-burning.
Merely Unfunny: Bagful of dogshit-burning. (Actually, this is, in fact, pretty funny. Let’s see… oh! Dane Cook CD-burning. Get it?)
Hateful: Michael Richards’ Laugh Factory gig that one time when he freaked the fuck out.
Merely Unfunny: Every other Michael Richards stand-up gig or performance that isn’t Seinfeld.
Hateful: Writing “I hate _________. A lot. Really. I sincerely hate it. No joke.”
Merely Unfunny: Writing a blog post (that has the potential to be read in its entirety by four people tops) in an attempt to make light of situations that you— the author— (not altogether falsely) perceive to be represented in an overly dramatic, tween-like fashion; and thus must not be all that serious if one’s only recourse in “dealing” with said situations is to publicize them on a voyeuristic blog instead of seeking actual, real-life “help.” The same sort of way that your highschool girlfriend dumping your sad skinny ass seems at the time to be worthy of a lifetime’s worth of angst and soppiness, when in fact, with a little perspective, you realize that hormones had a lot more to do with how I felt than any other thing, and that I’ll make it through in the end, and that Whitney Vanderford dumping me on Valentine’s Day wasn’t ultimately as bad as I thought it was and that my Dad was totally right when he said “This too shall pass”. I mean. Your dad. Your breakup. Hypothetically. Wait, sorry— what were we talking about?
And Now To Mock the Shit Out of Some Sad People— Not Because I Really Want To but Because “Rita” Made Me by Being Such a Fucking Humorless Blowhard Dyke.
Wow. Ballsy. Good plan. Or maybe you could grow the fuck up and realize that paying your taxes and your rent is really a privilege and not a burden; and maybe if you don’t want to sign your car payments you can take the fucking bus— you sniveling, entitled tween. Boom, roasted. Next!
No, the “real” reason you teach at a community college is that you have the grammatical and aesthetic prowess of a highschool sophomore. Boom, roasted.
“OK, FINE: I’m sorry I gave you such a huge ugly nose. Boom, roasted.” —God.
K, first: You can’t “lose” a marriage. And second: If I was married to anyone who thought I was causing a world-wide credit crisis / economic downturn by not praying anymore, I’d probably divorce her too. HOW BOUT THAT CONNECTION HUH?? Boom, roasted.
Aw, that’s a shame. Quit walking like such a flamer and maybe you’ll get some friends. BOOM ROASTED.
Wow. I can feel the hate flowing. I have to stop now before I black out.
Hope this has been “educational” for everyone. Please comment and tell me, on a scale of one to some arbitrary other number, how “hateful” you found this entry. I’m trying to improve. Really, I am. I’m out of shaving cream so I have no choice.
Until next time, dudes.
10 months ago