It would appear, based on recent trends, that almost anything that becomes wildly popular in today’s society, I harbour a severe, unconditional (and probably unreasonable) loathing for.
Why is that? It’s an interesting question. Well it is to me. Because I’m me and, as me, I find me very interesting.
Is my boiling negativity a deliberate defiance of popular culture in an attempt to stir controversy? Seek attention? Rub people the wrong way? Or maybe it’s a feable (and somewhat ironic) attempt to shy away from the masses and validate myself as an individual, despite the fact that I’m blogging (which every moron who can turn on a computer has a tendency to do), I’m twittering (which every moron who can turn on a computer has a tendency to do), and I’m Facebooking (which is awesome… like me).
Or maybe, and most likely, it is because the world, time and time again, falls in love with some pretty retarded shit. Face it, assholes out there in Earth-land-place-world, you’re not intelligent. Let’s recap some of the things you love, shall we? Twilight, Harry Potter, Beyonce, Lady Gaga, that annoying crying person on Youtube, Entourage, fashion (and the gullible sheep who absolutely must wear what they’re told), everything Johnny Depp does, Lil Wayne, celebrity worship (“Ooh I’ll simply die if I don’t find out what Lindsay Cumstain Lohan had for breakfast today!”), Kanye West, Cricket, Brangelina, The E! Channel, Titanic (the movie, not the boat), and vegan food. Don’t even get me started on organised religion.
Wow. Looking at that list above, it’s pretty obvious that you’re stupid. You should be wearing kneepads and a helmet at all times, Captain Special. There. Just so you don’t feel so bad about being such an incredible dunce, I’ve promoted you to Captain. Before, you were just Private Special, in the Fuckwit Brigade. Now you’re a Captain. Go you! Look how far you’ve come. Your parents would be so proud of you, if they weren’t severely handicapped Chimpanzees with brother-sister parents. But they’re trying, and that’s what counts. That’s the spirit the Special Olympics was founded upon. In a way, they’re pioneers. You could learn from them, were it not for your learning disability.
I got so angry listing that scrotal sack of societal suckiness (You like the alliteration? Of course you do. You’re so easily amused) and so happy talking about Chimpanzees, that I forgot what my original point was, or if I ever had one. I’m not even going to check. You think I read this crap? I have no idea what I write. And just to prove it, here’s a spelling error I have no intention of fixing. Ffhdklak74shkkl (that’s “Hippopotamus”, spelled really badly, but you could probably already tell).
Oh yeah, that’s right. The question has been answered. “Why does Brad Zimmerman hate everything I love?” Turns out it’s because you love stupid shit. It’s your fault, not mine. You better buck up your ideas, Earth. You’re letting the team down.
Now let’s all get naked, sacrifice a goat to the Chilean fru-fru cabbage-patch god of ass-hair, burn all the things that are holding us back as a species, and have a gingernut biscuit.
I do like Miley Cyrus though. Not in that “Hey little girl, I’ve got some candy in my van” kind of way, but more in the “Look at her try, one day she might actually be an artist” kind of way and, of course, the “Haha she’s only five minutes old and already more talented than her hack father will ever be” kind of way. Go Miley! You keep doing your thing. You keep baiting those kiddy-fiddlers out there.