Musicos and Other Imbeciles

From time to time, each and everyone of us had the occasional bug fly up our asses and die. Here are my Top Five among the swarm of human locusts who never seem to miss my asshole:

1. Musicos:You know who they are. You may have had an argument with one. Hell, you may have even bottled one upside the head. And for your sake, I hope to God you did. What the fuck is a musico, you ask? Oh, you didn't ask, you say? Well, fuck you, cos I'm gonna tell you anyway. In one word: assbites. In more words: pedantic assbites who can suck the joy of listening to music. Like fucking clockwork, they ALWAYS manage to ruin a civilized rap session. And its always the same trivial set up. If you love a band, one of these dickheads will be sure to make an appearance, so as to psychically urinate in your mouth about it. As always, musicos respond pretty much in the same manner as anyone who would react to someone having just said: "I sure dig touchin' children inappropriately." Thus, the conversation spirals downward, never to be resurrected into a mature dialogue. Ever. Again.
   
2. Retards who, for reasons unbeknownst to the sane, no longer refuse items with a good old fashioned "NO, THANK YOU": Now, what the hell happened here? I notice this shit occurring at a greater magnitude in connection to people who are on a severely restricted diet (not necessarily due to health issues) or are following a fitness regimen with a Nazi-like precision. Preciousness begets the insufferable. Hey fucker, I asked if you wanted a piece of cake, not a colostomy with a bendy-straw, a'ight? Please die.
   
3. Disabled people who apoplectically refuse your help. Don't want my help? Fine. But don't fucking rag me out about it, you gimptard. Bah.
   
4. Cartards. Now, this is one seriously tragic contingent of eye-rolling and shiftless 10-year-olds who are clearly trapped in the chunky bodies of 30-to-40-year-olds, if I ever saw one. Posturing over heavily modified shitboxes or "race-ready" glorified go-carts. And their poor fucking neglected girlfriends. So ready for the picking, btw. They stand around like idiots while you dorks whack off over the latest atrocity inflicted on your chariot. Oh, and by the way, great F1 wing on your Precidia there, sport.
   
5. Blackberry fuckheads. I know we live in an increasingly interconnected world. I concede that technology is not only a modus, but a currency in a global context. But! I draw a fucking line. Look at yourself. Shouting into your digital mobile wang like a harpy on crack, because the recipient of your bore-ass conversation - and I know it is boring because I CAN HEAR YOU DOWN THE FUCKING HALL - can't hear you. Do the world a favour: switch to a landline, you fucker. Sigh. I can already hear the whinging. 'But a landline isn't always available. Wah' Trust me. Judging from the content of your insipid monologue - and I say 'monologue' because you haven't given the other person a word in edgewise, which is totally making me doubt the existence of an ACTUAL whole other person on the other end and convincing me that it is all a constructed ruse to make it appear that you have friends - in the last half-hour, whatever you want to say can surely wait.