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USPS EMLOYEE OF THE MONTH

 

One of my coworkers introduced their friend to me: "Meet Bob. He's a pacifist." I don't understand why it's necessary characterize someone right away - and I find it offensive. It's intrusive, like they're trying to hot-wire my brain to accept "Bob = pacifist" before I have the opportunity to form my own opinion, and I generally have a knee-jerk reaction. In this case, I mean that quite literally - I had the urge to jerk my knee into Bob's scrotum to see if he really was a pacifist. Luckily (for Bob), I realized it would probably be gauche, and decided to wait for a more subtle opportunity to test his resolve, like "accidentally" pissing on him or screwing his wife.

 

"Meet Joe. He's a bastard."

 

Some folks say I have a problem controlling negative emotions. I can't imagine why anyone would see that as a problem. There are situations in which hatred, anger, and blind outrage are completely reasonable responses to certain stimuli. Have you never stood in a line of fifteen people in the cash-only, 10-items-or-less lane for half an hour while some gormless dolt stands at the front with a month's worth of groceries for their entire building and tries to pay with an expired debit card from an overseas bank?

 

... even Bob would get a little testy.

 

I prefer to think that other people have a problem expressing negative emotions. I'd much rather be known as an obnoxious bastard than someone who's always quiet and polite - especially when you consider that you usually hear people call someone "quiet" and "polite" right after they've marched into a day care center with a pick-axe. So the next time someone like me spits in your drink or tosses a lit cigarette down your collar, try to be a little more understanding.

 

Saying "thanks" is optional.

 

 

HERES ANOTHER:

PROUD OWNER OF MY EX-GIRLFRIEND

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When you're one wart shy of being Lemmy from Motorhead, wailing away at "The Ace of Spades" until your now elderly audience tries to mosh, you have to find that extra something to push you over the top. For some, it's a winning smile, perhaps a dimple that becomes apparent only when you laugh ...

 

... for others, it's an oversized hand with pewter rings.

 

And not just any rings, mind you. These rings have to be in the shape of super-eeevil cartoon ghouls who occasionally wear top hats and Nazi-style helmets to cover their protruding skulls.

 

I wonder how many quarters went into the machine to get them.

 

What could make a mall-rat's cotton damper than scary faced rings? A hairline that covers half your head? Nope... A menacing snarl? No, that's not it... The elongated quarter-moon profile of a man with a pointy chin? Hmmm... nah. I have it! No woman could resist a droopy old-West style moustache!

 

Someone call Marshall Dillon - there's about to be trouble.

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Originally posted by ASER1NE

all hail michael kidblount , the pathetic pug fugly idiot who will rule us all with his nerd'dom

 

im gonna get kidblount on this site. how would you life that?... oh pistol you know that chick i was talking about . italk to her brother and he refused o get me pictures.. ill take em myself.

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