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got rage?

Dear Whispy Sprinkles of Snow:

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I bet you think you are funny, you frosty bastards. I sure didn’t think it was funny to slip on a patch of ice that was well hidden beneath you during my run this evening. I have a bruise on my ass the size of a Perry Como 45 thanks to you. No matter how careful I was, I guess you got one past me. The worst part was the slow motion propulsion of my rotundas ass through the chilly night air as I came crashing to the ground in what felt like slow motion that I could not control. That same air that I find a constant source of brisk refreshment suddenly felt cold and mocking as paused to catch my breath before scuttling to my feet and dusting off my fanny and bruised ego. I will particularly relish devouring you and your kind with the snow blower when the time comes.

-wishing we had six months of autumn and no winter at all.



To The Doorman at The Cactus Club:

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First and foremost, don’t call me “sweetie.” It makes me uncomfortable, Awkward McCreepsterstein. When I asked you for a refund of the fifteen dollar cover charge that I paid to get into your skeeze bar, I was not joking. Hipster bars in Bay View are a dime a dozen and I would never pay a cover just to drink shitty beer and give myself osmosis lung cancer. I paid the cover to see Eyedea & Abilities. You bastards over sold the show and took my money and the money of my five friends, knowing that you were already packed. The concert hall was wall to wall with bodies of thrifted clothes and ironic haircuts. There was only standing room in the bar and the douchebag bartender would not even turn the bar music down so we could hear the show. Needless to say, I was not pleased. That bullshit line about how they already collected the money from you just made you sound like even more of an incompetent boob than I already thought you were. Trying to appease me with a free bottle of PBR was like trying to fix a car with a melon baller. Free beer would have not put fifteen dollars back in my clutch and restore my faith in humanity. Thanks for nothing, Asshole.

-the girl who called you a jackass and then apologized specifically
for sounding mean, but definitely not for calling you a jackass

Dear Tracey on The Biggest Loser:

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You are a horrible human being creature. Your behavior on the most recent episode of TBL has shown me, and all the world, what a spineless conniving wretch you are. Since you apparently have no soul and thusly no regard for how humans work, let me explain a few things to you. Dishonesty will get you nowhere. Back stabbing is a very dangerous pastime. See, there’s this thing called karma or the idea of “what goes around, comes around”, some people call it “The Golden Rule” … its simple really, treat others the way you would like to be treated. Having said that, I think you must be like the sickest sadist in all of America… and even parts of Germany. Knowing that, what goes around comes around, and still treating people the way that you do is the evidence that supports this theory. I think the reason why your behavior makes me so angry is because the people on this show have had enough to deal with. They have struggled through their lives, been put down, and made to feel less than. Then they get on this show and are so close to having everything they want and they are starting to believe in themselves , some of them for the first time ever, and you come along and stir things up with your selfish, control freak, unkind, devious ways. You are one of them, you should know better. I will keep you and your sad bitter little heart in my prayers. You are so fucked up, you will need every last one of them. Good luck, sweetie.

There is a special place in Hell for people like you.