To Whom it May Concern

Happy Tuesday everyone! Hope yours was not as shittacular as mine. Between work being so slow we watch movies everyday with few customer interruptions and the stress of recently discovering I owe 35 grand to Chandler Regional Hospital, life has been less than desirable. At least I have music to look forward to... Wow, after proofreading that even I thought I was going to kill myself, damn. Don't worry about that folks, I enjoy the weekends far too much to off myself due to the week! Anyway... on to the lashing. Please check this website out in connection to the following rant: http://www.latfh.com/

Dear Hipster,

Words cannot describe my contempt for you, but I'll try anyway. I think I'll just list the things that "define" you, things that you are so very proud of but in all reality make you a giant douche.

• Fashion: I know it took you hours of searching to find that vintage, mustard yellow cardigan that will go perfectly with your skinny jeans, birkenstocks and worn out "Harry and the Hendersons" T-shirt, but it makes you look retarded. Here's a hint, don't try so fucking hard to look like you're sooooo unique and you might end up standing out a bit from your douchetastic friends.
• Music: I'm sorry, but no matter how you look at it, Elliot Smith is just plain horrible (readers who disagree... suck it! you're wrong). Don't even get me started on Radiohead. Furthermore; your need to constantly point out that you listened to Modest Mouse "before they were on the radio and they were better back then" is just fucking annoying. Eat a dick, dude. I still like them, so sue me.
  
• The "Lifestyle": What the fuck dude? You have to shower man! You smell, get on it. Also, you can quit with your "holier than thou" attitude. I'm sorry my parents' aren't paying for my bachelor's degree. I'm also sorry I don't have a "kick ass" job at the Apple Store or the Campus Coffee House or wherever the hell it is you work you pretentious asshole.

In conclusion, prickface, you're not even remotely close to nearly as fucking cool as you think you are. In fact, I'm pretty sure the whole world wants to knock your ass out.

Sincerely,
Chris Goretcki

So there is a lot going on politically in my home state right now. You may be asking yourself "Why hasn't Chris tackled Immigration law yet?" Well the answer is simple. I WILL NOT blog about politics. Sorry. First and foremost, it might turn off readers. Second, I find political debate to be boring and counter-productive. And finally, I just don't give a rat's ass! That being said, it's been awhile since I've posted anything but I promise the rants will be coming with more frequency henceforth. Once again I encourage anyone to leave comments, it helps motivate me by letting me know you're reading. Now let's get on with it, shall we? (This actually happened 2 years ago, but I have to see this jackass every year so it still irks me)

Dear Fat Fuck kid at the Paradise Valley Jazz Festival,

God, let me just start by telling you how jealous I am that you can play saxophone like every other bad ass who ever existed (read Kenny G). I am just so disappointed in myself for playing rock guitar... I suck... If you haven't sensed my sarcasm yet, you're a bigger dumb fuck than I thought. Let me put it to you straight son, when we chatted two years ago, I asked what you played. You told me sax. Pink Floyd being the only non jazz sax I could think of, I jokingly asked if you knew any. Your response was "No, you have to have an IQ of 5 to play rock music". WHO THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU ARE? God damn I wanted to kick your pudgy little ass. I told you that you had better watch your mouth around people you don't know and you walked away red faced like a coward. But you weren't finished, you had to get the last word in so you told me "If rock music is so good, why do these people all pay 200 bucks a piece just to get in here?" Well, you stupid ass, rock bands draw crowds of 40,000 plus so they don't have to charge that much. Plus, all your adoring jazz fans have an average age of 85. Good luck with all the ladies flashing those flapjacks to get a piece of you backstage, tubby. Point is, I should have kicked your ass up and down that place then, but I let it go because I was working. However, I now have seen you both times I've worked it since said incident and you feel the need to say something to me everytime. Leave me the fuck alone! Seriously! I am actually considering finding out when your piece of shit big band plays and waiting outside to beat you senseless afterward. You smug, fat, ugly, virgin, untalented piece of fucking donkey shit.

Sincerely,
Chris Goretcki