The spread of Communism during morning coffee.

22 Aug

Karl Marx in the hizzy.

It is not often I run into someone that I want to beat to death within seconds of meeting them, but I am there.

The Starbucks is not my usual one.

I am not used to the locals and I am not even sure he is a local.

I can’t imagine that anyone can stomach this asshole for long.

Young, which translates to stupid in his case. Worse than the usual “Young and dumb”.

Someone gave him just enough education to really be obnoxious. And not in that be rude and write a blog type. I happen to view that as valuable.

The little girl he is sitting with may as well be 8 years old. It would match the high pitched squeeky voice that comes out of her mouth in a constant barrage of “Poor me, I’m a victim, what will I do” statements.

I would normally hate her automatically.

But I can only feel sorry for her.

Heres why:

Top 3 statements from the Commie shit.

  • “How can you say that this is a good country? This is the worst society in the history of the world. Statistically!”
  • School is a waste of time. If you say that you want an education to get by in society, then you should become a faceless mind wrapped in tinfoil. Just a soulless corporate shell.”
  • If you waste your time going to school just to get a master’s degree, then what? There will eventually be a million useless master’s degrees out there, begging for change.”

I want to stab him in the eye with a coffee stir.

I am a firm believer that being happy is important, but so is hatred, it helps you appreciate true happiness.

Squeeky is lamenting the fact that she doesn’t have a job. However, she does admit that she has yet to apply anywhere.

Commie shit is not letting that one go by.

“There are no jobs! Are you even listening? You are not a man, caucasian, with the right genetics? Gone to the right school with the privileged elite? Those are who the jobs are for! Not for you.”

The head whip factor in the room has edged up a level.

There is a short haired guy, built like a pitbull, waiting for his coffee that I have pegged as an ex marine.

He whipped his head around earlier and has been listening.

He is not smiling. Shit gets real when the Marines stop smiling.

He has nonchalantly sauntered a step or two closer, and some would say he is wanting to listen in.

I see it differently.

I listen in. This man is judging the angle for an attack.

Kind of a java soaked grassy knoll.

And I am cheering for Oswald.

However, fate intervened and saved Commie shit from a solidly deserved beat down.

Because I don’t even think I am going out on a limb when I surmise that Commie shit does not have a martial background.

And the Marine left.

Thanks for your service, buddy. I wish there was one more service I could thank you for.

Oh, well.

Commie shit is still berating Squeeky.

“So what are you going to do? Work some lower class prole job until you have had enough of failure and decide to get married? I am sick of my life, so I may as well choose this asshole and make us both miserable.”

This guy is a swirling, sucking, black pit of despair, with no hope for the future, in an ever darkening universe.

This is the kind of guy that will break the law one day, go to jail, and when he is raped and killed behind bars, it is not going to shock anyone.

I hate him.

One of the absolute truths I have learned in life is that you have to be flexible.

If the plan you or your parents had when you were a kid doesn’t work out, move on. Reinvent yourself. I am not a big Madonna fan, but she understands this concept.

And that is where victory comes from.

On a side note, I hope Commie shit gets hit by a car.

With any luck, I will be driving.



Leave a comment

Posted by on August 22, 2012 in Uncategorized


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s