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I Love Hate Week by Trey Printer Friendly

Another hate week rolls around, and all us reprobate haters crawl out of the woodwork and howl at the moon for a whole week.

I've got a 20oz Earth hating styfoam cup full of cheap-ass rot-gut whiskey and a chip on my shoulder the size of Al Gore's Private Jet. So settle in and let's talk about things.

Hate week doesn't even begin to cut it. It's like trying to clean all the bus station bathrooms in NYC with your tongue. You might get that first toilet clean, but everything tastes like shit and there's a bum with an intestinal infection banging on the stall door.

What we need is a hate year. Or a hate decade.

Cause friends, when hate week ends the great sucking void of our lives will still be waiting, but like a fat guy at a party, we take what we can get.

So, what shall we hate on?

Choices, choices...

Hmmmm... we could start with the left lane cell phoners obliviously creeping and weaving their way down the interstate.

Unguided SUV death missiles yammering away about the shitty traffic they're a leading cause of.

Or is that too easy?

Douchbags with too small ironic tee-shirts and alt-boy beards?

They live for the hating, so we'll leave that for the amatures.

Our jobs?

For most of us it's gray days in gray cubicles. Stale coffee and stale birthday cake.

Shitty insurance, no pension, and the government takes half anyway.

Rub your pennies together and stash some away.

Nice work.

Of course, what the market collapse didn't get, inflation will.

But don't you worry about all those poor billionaire campaign donors and their big companies, 'cause uncle Obama has them taken care of.

But, as shitty as jobs are, can you really hate on a job when you're lucky to have one?

Grey cubicles suck, but bowing and scraping and tongue kissing more ass than a Chelsea hooker for just the chance of sitting in a soul removal devices is even worse.

So what about those politicians?

If there's one thing we know about politics, it's of the politicians by the politicians, and for the politicians.

Trillion dollar bailouts to their buddies? Why not?

Sure it might piss off the voters, but so what? Your elected representative already made a couple of million bucks on sweetheart real estate deals while in office, but once he gets voted out the money REALLY starts rolling in.

That company he tossed a billion to last year? Well they could really use a high powered lobbiest for a couple million a year.

And that, friends, is how it works.

Hating on politicians? Like your sister in the trailer park... too wore out and easy to be satisfying.

Hmmm... what about the war on drugs?

What's so bad about prohibition?

I mean, sure it causes shit piles of crime, but mostly in Mexico, right? A couple thousand brown people killed a year in Juarez alone is a small price to pay for keeping little Jenny off the cocaine.

Of course, little Jenny is in junior high, where the drugs are even better than the shit you're getting from your best friend's college-age son.

Alas, because you've lost your job and Little Jenny has lost her allowance, she mostly sucks off grease ball high school coaches behind the Gym for bumps of Crystal Meth.

Because if there's one thing American's love, it's our drugs.

If you're poor and uninsured, you have to settle for the seedy skunk weed and crack rock your local junky is selling in the parking lot of the 7-11.

If you're rich and insured, you have a lawyer buddy who knows a guy with absolutely primo weed. He can also set you up with some decent blow, but you only do that on weekends when your wife and kids are away. The rest of the time you make do with what you've got stashed in the medicine cabinet. All legal of course.

Have a hangover? Snake one of your wife's diet pills.

Feeling a bit tense? Have your own little party with a beer and one of those Percocets left over from the hair transplant.

Having trouble sleeping? Take one of your wife's Ambian.

Having trouble paying attention at that important meeting? Take one of your son's Ritalin.

But drugs? Well, drugs are bad and we must protect the citizens of this great country from drugs. Sure we all go through life high on caffeine, alcohol, nicotine, Viagra, and whatever high powered psychotropics our shrink gives us, but we can't have people out there doing drugs.

Think of the children. Well, think of the children if you have the time. Otherwise, just let your Puerto Rican nanny take care of them.

Hmmm... Puerto Rican...

Shall we hate on immigration?

Make it impossible for the college educated and highly skilled who want to immigrate to do so.

Turn a blind eye to millions of the poor and desperate sneaking across our borders to live as 3rd class citizens in poverty.

Hate on immigration? Too boring and too obscure.

What else...

How bout the children?

Who doesn't love to hate on those whiny little poop bags screaming and blowing snot bubbles in the checkout line of Kroger's? I mean, why should we have to listen to them bitch and moan for 15 minutes just because their mommy won't buy them a six pack of the new Red Bull Alt-boy Douche bag Cola and some local small-batch beer?

I mean, sure they might be 23 and recently graduated with a fine arts degree from The University of Mediocrity, but children have feelings too.

Besides, that child-like 20 something is going to be paying my Medicare someday. That is, if he every gets a job.

Ummm... environmentalists?

Trade 200 year of progress in the human condition to save the Panda?

Fuck the Panda.

Raise my taxes and take my car away to save the whales?

Fuck the whales, and fuck global warming too.

Humans are cockroaches. We can eat anything and live anywhere.

When the day comes, there'll be nothing but roaches, rats, and humans.

We'll eat the roaches and rats first. Then we'll eat each other.

Fucking *sigh*

I could go on all night, or all year, or all decade, but the whiskey is running dry and Hate Week is almost over.

I'd shed a tear, but the wicked bitch wouldn't care anyway.

So what's a Strangelander to do as this nasty old world swirls around them like a flushed toilet?

Well, I'll tell you what old man Trey says. He says, “fuck it”.

When the bartender quits serving, or when the hooker stops breathing, or when your mom finally tosses your lame ass out of the house, I'll tell you what to do.

You light up a non-filter lucky, pour a tall glass of ripple wine, and come join us here at The Strangelands where you can say what you want and be what you say.

Hate Week sets us all free...

Entered By James From Austin
2009-08-13 03:30:33

2 things -- 1)where the fuck are there still Kroger's around? 2) Hate Week does indeed set us free, but, as Nietzsche says, it is not about "freedom from" but about "freedom for". So if Hate is not going to lead to anything better than the current milieu we might as well bottle that shit up and pour another glass of that rot-gut you have there.

Entered By Ray From Austin
2009-08-13 04:36:28

The only good part about the end of Hate Week is that Trey quits scratching his nasty ballsack long enough to hammer out a fetid pile of bitter wisdom. The best way to read his stuff, by the way, is to imagine that your car has broken down in the middle of nowhere, it's like one in the morning, and you happen across this run down bar that smells like old smoke, farts, and sadness. The bartender's a toothless old hag with track marks on her arm and a cigarette perma-nested between her meaty, overly-lipsticked mouth, and the only patron is this crazy-lookin' fucker drinking generic booze straight from the bottle. You try to walk by to get to the pay phone, and he spins around and clutches your arm. He glares into your eyes and screams into your face, "Another Hate Week rolls around..."

Entered By Trey From Cowtown
2009-08-15 15:28:05

Gosh Ray, that's the nicest thing a drunken mess has ever said to me. I'd be blushing if my blood was so thinned by the alcohol.

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