It's a fact of life that, when a boy reaches a certain age, he has to start to shave. I am informed that this happens to girls too, in some bodily areas, although I'm rather dubious. Just glad we got that clear. As much as it is a fact of life that, to as far an extent as I am currently aware, is universally accepted, I must, with a grind of the teeth, vent my frustration at an increasingly common conversation to which I am now constantly exposed. It occurs, as much as it pains me to say, only with the aforementioned females, and begins with me making some menial comment about the also aforementioned shaving routine that befalls boys who at a certain point develop a particular fluffiness around the cheekbones, and ends with a dead person. I'm writing this, so that ain't me. What they do is so unbelievably stupidly irritating, I can't even muster the willpower to believe it's not done deliberately to annoy me, a possibility that will be discussed further later. They say this:
"Ahaha, oh Jacob you say you shaved this morning, but you hardly have any facial hair, you really don't need to shave, why do you do it? Hair flick, pretentious giggle, oh hilarious you, by which I mean hilarious me."
Now.
Let's just consider.
But before we consider.
Let's growl.
Grrrrrr.
Many people reading this will have spotted a slight gap of reasoning here. Many people reading this will have spotted a gaping gap of reasoning here. Many people reading this aren't stupider than a wind farm on the moon. The rest of you, however, you're very stupid, and I'm not even going to explain for your benefit what was wrong with that *genuine quote*, as if you're docile enough to find it acceptable, then you're idle to have come up with it yourself, and there must be only a small number of people on this fair earth simply moronic enough for that, suggesting that if a person cannot understand the brownian meander around the garden of logic cited above, then they are statistically fairly high into the category of people who have said it, which makes the risk of bringing it to light unacceptable. I just can't have people angry at me like that. I live peacefully, I do my homework (sometimes), I order special non-minty toothpaste from the internet to satisfy my pedantic taste-buds, I'm absolutely and entirely unsuited to conflict on such a level.
As opposed to those producing things such as this: I see no reasonable explanation as to where these immortal, beautiful mannerisms are coming from other than out of a deep and religious need to antagonise me. This isn't the only case. Not only have the unrelenting grammar Jews* of this world continued to put on a convincing and very, very annoying show, but politicians, journalists, international high-earning commercial franchises, and of course Lisbon have all grated at me as I slide down the razor blade of life. And you can see why.
It's Christmas, right?** The season of festive spirit and Yuletide, of presents, of the nativity, of cheesy songs, of Santa Claus and his lists. Have you been naughty or nice? Well, as I've spent the last few paragraphs describing, it appears many have decided that this year they will be bad, bad children and they will cut disability benefits in the year of the Paralympics, they will invade the privacy of innocent civilians, they will continue to put prepositions at the end of sentences and split infinitives. Now before I go any further, I'd like to draw your attention to the price of toys nowadays. Okay, it's fairly high in the ultimate scale of time of things and most importantly toys, it not altogether ridiculous. Now, my dear chaps, I'd like to draw your attention also to the price of coal (see where I'm going with this?). Now, it is no insult to the common reader (because they're so goddamn common) to assume little or no expertise in the field of pyrotechnical commerce, and so I shall inform you. Coal costs the fudging Earth in this economic era. Literally, you can not even begin to image how expensive coal is. Think platinum, then imagine platinum being sold for a penny a tonne, and then ink of the Eurofighter Typhoon. In black. With Stephen Hawking built in in the wheelchair that housed Jesus when he broke his leg and encountered the typical Darth Syphodius situation. (Film three, scene in the senate, look it up). It's pretty bloody costly. I mean, you're forming an impression but literally you're nowhere near. Anyhow, this is beginning to explain our fellow humans' shoddy behaviour, innit? Upon gaining access to the naughty list, they will be presented with their stocking of coal, and will immediately become extremely rich, spread their wealth amongst all those who've been hurt, take up the cello and the whole world is moving happily onwards. Osborne, Murdoch, Google, it's alright. We know you've got our backs.
*for anyone reading this blog unaccustomed to and possibly shocked by this admittedly seemingly crude turn of phrase, it should be pointed out that this expression stems from it's counterpart, "Grammar Nazis."This obviously makes it all better.
**WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
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