Faux Outrage is Fucking Me Off

WARNING - This article contains MULTIPLE expletives

Some days EVERYTHING fucks me off. And then I get that one comment which sends me over the edge. We’re three lines in and two swearwords have belched onto the screen. Here is another warning - this article is a rant full of naughty words.

And worse? I’m subjecting ALL my subscribers to my angry mood.

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Fuck off with your angry commentary. Image Adobe Stock

Faux Outrage is Fucking Me Off

I’ve had enough. I don’t want your fucking feedback anymore. I really don’t give a shit about your opinion. I don’t need to be corrected. I’m a minor player in a very minor blogging platform writing about whatever the fuck comes to mind. And usually, it’s very fucking minor.

I don’t have a qualification or years of fucking research to have an opinion on a whole heap of topics. I’m not citing sources or writing some unheralded academic tome that no fucker, not even your mum, will read. This isn’t the New York fucking Times. This isn’t Elephant Journal. This isn’t even The Lollipop Daily Ragfest in seven exquisite colors, each one designed specifically for you to suck on.

This is a blogging platform. Nothing more. Nothing less.

Don’t start getting all Englebert Humperdick on me with your delusions of grandeur and preference for well-researched think pieces. I’m not a journalist. I’m not a paid scholar. I’m one man, sitting in his lounge, ignoring his kids, trying desperately to fight through the noise of Playstations and Youtubing nonsense. Everything I write is a first fucking draft simply because I do not have the luxury of time or a quiet space to write draft after draft of poetic brilliance.

Do you get that?

When I write about Brad Pitt’s Big Hairy Audacious Balls, it doesn’t mean I’ve met Pitt, fondled his balls and then had a reacharound to pop a finger up his arse while measuring his twin cups. It’s fantasy. It’s make-believe. It’s fiction. It should be read with a massive fucking grain of salt larger than Salt Lake fucking City’s salty landscape of legend.

And when I write about women writing about women writing about babies and women and women with babies and baby women babying babies…it isn’t a fucking thesis on ‘Women’s Civil Right Movement and the Dissolution of the Nuclear Family During the Child-rearing Years circa 1962'.

So FUCK OFF XX and your generic name created by a person whose idea of imagination and creativity goes no further than naming herself the 75277th version of Emily. I don’t give a fuck how many fucking dissertations you’ve done on the subject. I don’t think my opinion matters and you know what Emily? I don’t think your opinion fucking matters either.

Do you think I give a crap about you listing your two well-thought-out arguments presented in a derogatory fashion? What’s the purpose of that? To make yourself feel better? To showcase your stunning intelligence?

I’m sorry I didn’t label my article as ‘OPINION PIECE’ or ‘HUMOR’.

When I write ‘Actors I Would Beat Up If I Was John Fucking Cena’, who the fuck would take that seriously? Do you honestly believe I need psychoanalyzing? How about you appreciate the article for what it is? Nothing more than the further dumbing down of culture written by a clown who grew up loving Ren and Stimpy and Beavis and Butthead.

As someone lacking the intelligence to fully discern an insult, I’m taking this one as humor and replied accordingly.

To date, no bunnies or toddlers have been harmed in the making of my poor prose.

So let's make one thing clear…I’m a shallow individual who thrives on praise. No. I’m fucking kidding. I don’t give a fuck what you say because I’ve seen this shit all before. I’ve been bullied and cajoled off several platforms by ignorant arseholes who all think they know better. I simply move on. I continue to write and spew crap with the occasional slice of brilliance because…I enjoy writing.

I’m not an academic.

I’m not an arsehole.

I’m not some ignorant fucktard who doesn’t realize when he’s being offensive. I write the odd clickbait headline and hope strangers will stop scrolling long enough to read my latest diatribe.

When I use words like ‘Most’ and ‘the Majority’, I haven’t got the figures to back up any argument. And when I do have the numbers, you’ll find the answers in the links provided when I can be bothered. But most of all…it’s MY FUCKING OPINION.

You don’t like it? Scroll on. That’s what adults do.

You click and read and find it incredibly offensive and feel the need to comment? Then write a retort. Go and write your own fucking article instead of grandstanding on mine. Your faux-outrage will be scorned. Your civil disagreement will become a slog or worse, ignored completely.

Summary, because I know how much you fuckers like a good summary at the end with cohesive points. I bet you all have PowerPoint presentation parties with 29 bullet-pointed slides in a deck of 36.

Yeah…you fuckers love a good summation.

1. Don’t leave condescending comments littered with passive-aggressive putdowns. This is my echo chamber and I love being adored.

2. There is no two. I haven’t slept and the kids are getting loud again and I need to vent instead of smacking an imaginary leprechaun with my ball sack.

Rules to live by. Enjoy your week.