I have to confess: I've been holding back lately. I've been too nice, I choose my words carefully, and for what? Five years ago, I averaged over a hundred visits to my blog daily. Now it's about fifteen. How can I offend anyone if there's nobody here to offend? What's the worst that will happen? I lose twenty percent (or three people) of my audience? Screw it.
- Your baby is ugly. I'm sick and tired of being told that this baby or that baby is cute. There's no such thing as a cute baby. All babies are ugly. If I had a baby, it would be ugly too. If babies were so goddam cute, Anne Geddes wouldn't have snorted all that angel dust and dressed them up as vegetables.
- Attention, young black men: retire the saggy, baggy pants. It's been twenty years now; you don't see white people still wearing Hypercolor T-shirts, do you? Most of you weren't even born when this hideous fashion started. If you want people to see your underwear, wear them on your head. You'd look like less of a moron, and if you didn't - hey, at least it's a new trend, for crying out loud.
- Immigrants from Mexico: fine, come on in. Welcome aboard. But do me a favor: quit flying the Mexican flag at pro-immigration parades. Your motherland is about two years away from becoming a failed narco-state; it was founded by a combination of crazed human sacrifice lovers and psycho-Catholics with funny-looking metal hats; its favorite sport is soccer, yet the national team is so bad, it routinely gets its ass handed to them by Americans. Face it: Mexico is Afghanistan without the burkas.
- Hey, suburban Cubs fans: when you're on the Red Line, at least act like you care whether the team won or lost. You can tell, for instance, how the White Sox played by the reactions of their fans on the train: they smile, or sulk, or riot. But these Cubs fans? You can't tell. They're smiling like mentally disabled kids on the short bus from McDonalds. The Cubs could have lost by sixteen runs, and they would still sport the same looks on their faces. I doubt they even know what the final score was. If you can't give me some indication of how the Cubs did, then stay off the train. Real Cubs fans wouldn't even be on the train; they'd be passed out somewhere on Clark Street or pissing on a homeowner's front yard.