People I hate: updated for 2011!

I'm what one would call a "misanthrope." Or an "asshole." I tend to think they're interchangable. In short? I can't stand 95% of humanity.

Usually I reserve my hatred for women with huge strollers who insist on standing in the doorway of the T at rush hour and Rush Limbaugh. But my cup runneth over with vitriol, and I'm singling some of you dickbags out.

People who quote themselves.

Have you ever known anyone who did this? Have you ever noticed that everyone who does this is always the stupidest fucking person you know? Your friend with the Ph.D. in English who spent three years writing a thesis on Paradise Lost doesn't quote himself. It's always the dipshit who graduated high school with 2.1 GPA and promptly got a job installing car stereos who thinks he's so chock-full-o'-wisdom that he has to share his enlightenment with the world. Do the world a favor and keep your banal observations to yourself.

People who love the Dave Matthew Band.

I might get a lot of shit for this, but I can't think of any band that is more fucking played-out than the Dave Matthews Band. It's boring yuppie bullshit, consistently enjoyed by asshats in Fortune 500 companies that spend their days figuratively pushing money around with rakes and then as soon as the five o'clock world's whistle blows, they don their khaki cargo shorts and Abercrombie polos and bang their heads to Dave Matthews like he's some fucking killer guitar player. It's like Muzak except you don't have to speculate about the singer's sexuality. Grow a pair and listen to metal, you morons. (Not that I like metal, really. I listen to Robyn.)

Hot lesbians.

What the fuck is your problem? Why do you insist on ignoring me? Why do you absolutely refuse to be swayed by my stunning looks and endless charm? Why do all of you like science so much? Why do you make me look like a plebian? Why must you keep my OkCupid inbox and my soul empty? Why do none of you find me attractive, yet any idiot with a dick and bad haircut whom I'd never screw in a million years won't hesitate to tell me they think I'm hot?

Friends who won't tell you the truth.

THIS ONE. I'm sure it's happened to all of us. You have that one friend who says "Aw yeah we're totally going to hang out on Saturday, it's going to be awesome!" Then they meet up with someone who doesn't like you or who almost got in a fistfight with your husband on New Year's Eve (whoops, whatever, I was so drunk I barely remember it) and then suddenly all that shit is down the drain and you're lucky if they even reply to your text message asking what town they're going to be in. I don't fucking care if you don't want to hang out with me, or can't, or something's occurred to offend your delicate fucking sensibilities. Just be honest about it. My heart isn't going to break.

People who fake disabilities to get money / perks / pity.

There's this guy who fake-hobbles on the train every morning. A fat guy who demands to be given the optimal seating because he's so super disabled and can't walk and has to use crutches. But, if you actually watch him and not just buy into the whole "he must be disabled and I can't question a disabled person's motives," he's using them like fucking ski poles. I long held a suspicion that the guy was faking it. Then I saw him at A.C. Moore, waddling around sans crutches like he was the most able-bodied bastard in the world, buying fabric pant and rick-rack so he can decorate his Lee jeans. Fuck that guy. Also, fuck the guy on the train who purports to be blind yet crushes the Jumble and Sudoku every morning. Blind my ass.

EVERYTHING ISN'T ABOUT YOU!

I'm pretty sure I have Premenstrual Dysmorphic Diet-Pepsi-obsessed Dayquil-swilling Distemper Disorder. Why? Well, I'm pounding even more of the aspartame treat than ever, my throat is fucking sore, my boobs have hurt for a week and I really can't stand anyone nowadays. Especially internet commenters.

Yeah, I know. "Who cares?"

I CARE. I work a boring desk job in which I have nothing to do half the day. So I read. A lot. I read Jezebel. All day long.

So the other day, this big Jez shitstorm hit, when one of the editors published an article on sexual consent that all the humorless feminists obviously wouldn't agree with, and the commenters lost their goddamn minds. You'd think they'd never encountered life outside of an encapsulated sounding board, where men can be total assholes and people don't always share your opinions. The idea that they'd even have to face a point of view not in line with their own - and ARGUE its merits - made these women more inflamed than a hemorrhoid.

The editor apologized, noting that she put the post up right before the holiday and wasn't as attentive to the reaction as she should have been. The commenters weren't going to hear it. Someone actually said, "You couldn't do your job because it was a HOLIDAY?" How dare she travel to go spend time with her family on a national holiday when people on the internet are MAD?! The editor then posted a counterpoint article. It wasn't good enough.

So anyway, the content of the original piece was fairly vague and stupid - some American guy goes to Paris, wonders why American chicks aren't as hot and easy as French ladies, and says that maybe we USians sanitize our sex a bit too much. I didn't much care for the article, and I thought it was poorly written. I thought the guy sounded like a douchebag with a fixation on European women. He could have had a point and started a real discussion, but fell short.

But more than anything, the entitlement of these internet lurkers made me want to vomit.

The world does not fucking revolve around you. Somebody wrote something you don't like? Tough fucking shit. The Gawker Media Corporation is not beholden to you and your opinions. The editors of a web magazine do not owe you anything. If anything, they're beholden to the people who buy advertising on their site and pay their bills. People were seriously saying "I am not satisfied with this. I am owed an apology."

Really. REALLY?! You're that mad about the fucking internet? Do you know how many people in the world don't use the internet? ALMOST FIVE BILLION. Do you treat everyone you encounter in your real life like that? Oh, wait, I forgot. You don't have a real life. You spend six hours a day asking people you'll never meet what you should do about that internship that you really wanted but didn't get. 

Maybe that's the scourge of the modern age - absolute and utter narcissism. There are actually people out there believing a company that's the second largest online newspaper in the world should bow down, admit defeat, and let the 200 people who comment regularly control the content that tens of thousands of people read every hour. It goes beyond this to every element of our lives - people who make kissy faces in their Facebook profile pictures which they change twice a day, friends who get pissed off because you don't respond to their text messages immediately, women who are average weight and height and attractiveness and think they're models. I'm just so tired of the fact that everyone in my generation thinks they're some big fucking star.

I'm truly sorry, really I am, but you're going to work a boring job for 45 years. You're going to pop out a couple of mediocre children, you're going to marry someone who's going to get fat and bald, and your idea of a good time will end up being white zinfandel and a U2 cover band. You're not going to go great places and do great things. You're not going to drive a Porsche, you're not going to attend fancy galas, and when you die, there will be but a small crowd of people there to see you into the ground. Just give it up.

Obviously everything isn't about you. It's about me.