GOTHS ARE STUPID
You see them in their black clothes in malls. Blah blah blah. They hate the sun and they are stupid. They paint their fingernails (black) and they have lots of pretty silvery jewellery ladida di da, ok fuck it. I'm totally fucking bored to death with goths. Bored to death, like the cloud of mist forming over the swamp in the morning that beseeches my imminent return within an exodus of loathing and self demoralisation, woe and pain. It's time to engage my bitterness in something far more sinister and broken than the gothic shit culture fucking vanity fucking pseudo posers (fuck I hate them), it's time to turn my attention to...
What I would do if I was a woman.
Let me first get one thing straight right off the bat. (cricket bat, motherfucker) I am not a woman, though my intense insights into their psychology might profoundly astound and astonish you, I am not a woman. If I was a woman, I think that it goes without saying that I would be super lesbian. This is where all you dear female readers begin to sigh, "That's like soooo obvious!", but my reasons for being a lesbian are far from what you're expecting. It all happened about a week ago...
In my line of work I am a truly unique organism, swimming against the current of corporate ethics and expectations. Whenever there is a problem, I am a problem solver. Whenever there is a cloud in the sky, I am an umbrella of hope and a ray of sunshine all rolled into one. So I get back from lunch one day to find a note on my desk:
I HAVE 55 VIRUSES ON MY COMPUTER
I look at the note, I sit down at my desk. I get up, fill my glass with water, go back to my desk, look at the note again, load up my browser, check my private email account, load up a few of my favourite things, spam some unsuspecting goth, erase my history and recently accessed files, close my browser, have a long sip of water, look at the note again, then I get up and nonchalantly stroll over to Karl Marx's desk. After having to put up with lengthy explanations for about five minutes I finally gain control over the situation. Seems as though old Karl has a penchant for Internet Explorer and pornography.
I attack Karl's computer. Blood smears the walls and the floor and when I am done a cloud hangs in the room, a dark, dank cloud of obtuse vision and elongated daylight on this cursed world wherein I will one day make my vengeful tomb of melancholy into a monument to the pain of my first breath. Tears roll down my bleached face, pale light refractions form on my burned skin. I am no longer whole, a broken beast within the sanctuary of my struggling soul. Blah blah blah... I wish I was talented so that I could be a Goth. So I wearily go back to my desk after fixing his computer, and etc, etc, etc, I'm chewing my pencil thinking about how brilliant I am, and then it hits me. This is not my fucking pencil. It tastes like FUCK THIS IS NOT MY PENCIL! I HAVE PUT ANOTHER MAN'S SALIVA INTO MY MOUTH!
So that's why I am a lesbian.
Women are trained from birth to please. Yes, gentlemen, it's true. I know you're thinking that I've lost it, but that's just because you're not paying attention. As a woman, it is my first duty to explain it to you. I'm really getting in touch with myself here. It's tough being a woman. It's a thankless task. You fucking men are all lazy bastard asshole wankers sitting on your ass waiting for us to come along and make you dinner and wash the dishes, well not me buddy.
I wear trousers. I wear a sports bra, twenty four hours a day. Fuck make-up. I beat up girls (with well chosen words, of course. I only hit girls where it hurts) who wear make-up, because I am naturally beautiful. I don't apologize for anything. I do kung fu. Right now there are two men in hospital for offering to buy me a drink last year. I drive a Land Rover. I am pro-active and liberated. I don't need anybody to tell me what to do. My girlfriend is hot. Would you like sex tips from a lesbian? Fuck you. I don't need this shit.
I piss on little shits like you. I shaved my head this morning, right after I cleaned my gun, then I had a rough shit and smoked a cigar. Yes, I am the most lavishly oblivious creature ever blessed with ovaries and a penchant for toying with your little minds. Ok, I admit, the offal of my (culturally enforced) heterosexual past has left me slightly hardened. I watched a romantic movie the other day. It was shit. What the fuck is wrong with you people? You think flowers and candle-lit dinners are going to make me gush with sentimentality? Think again. I buy all my clothes at Cape Union Mart. I wear combat boots. When I was in high school a rugby playing meat head tried to rape me, so I knocked him out with one swift rabbit punch to the left temple and set him on fire.
I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. That's all I ever hear! IF YOU'RE SO FUCKING SORRY THEN WHY DON'T YOU KILL YOURSELF YOU DUMB CUNT? You sit there, with your soiled sheets and your withered little wrinkled penis thinking that I'm going to beg affection from you because you're such a big strong man and you're so apologetic. Go suck your own cock you sick fuck. You make me want to vomit blood. If there are any woman who made it this far into the article, I say unto you, don't take this shit lying down! Daddy is not going to come and save you, and nobody cares that you broke your favourite cosmetic mirror this morning, and nobody gives a flying fuck about your wedding fantasy. Life for you is sadly all about saving face and presenting a pretty little picture of yourself to the world. You constantly look down on other women in your pathetic attempts to assert your own idiotic selfish idea of what you should be, it's all bullshit. YOU made it this way. Don't give in to fucking expectations.
(*Goths are retarded)