Reading Hate Mail

Almost three years ago, I wrote this post, that still generates a lot of hits for this here site. Perhaps you should go read it so you know what we're talking about here. The cheap hits will also help my Google ranking, so we all win!

Yesterday, I got this hate mail about it.

Shut the fuck up! this is a rotten pool of slimy leeches who feed off government entitlements and thinks the world owes them. And Kevin, are you gonna tell me you don't google EVERY person you meet? You're a fucking disgusting loser who probably lives at home, Stares at useless shit all day on your computer, downloads speed metal from Itunes using your mommy's credit card, smokes pot all day, and lives about 90% of the time in your pajamas. You call getting a few e-mails in your junk box harassment? Do you write blogs about every piece of junk mail you get? Do what normal people do when they receive junk mail, DELETE IT!! What an asshole,

Ah, there is nothing to spark the ol' creative fires than a piece of hate mail. I'll be honest, I get stoked when I get any kind of feedback, pro or con. Actually, that's a lie. I want the hate mail. When I write something and get no feedback at all, it gives me the sads. I try to write provocative, edgy, honest things. And when I get no feedback on it, it makes me think, “Wow, there really are a bunch of messed up motherfuckers out there.”

So I was quite intrigued when this showed up. And while I haven't been able to spend much time here on K Theory, it's because I have other obligations since this piece ran. Since the post in question, I have been rather content at a job I mostly like for the last 2 ½ years. It has afforded me with money to keep a standard of life that I believe would be classified as 'lower middle class'. The job has sent me to some cool places and given me some cool opportunities. Also, I have had a few writing gigs. I have got two things published so far, and have gained valuable experience working for a few different sites doing a few different things. One day, I hope to get paid for all this fucking writing work, but that's another story.

And while we're on the topic, this has been pretty much the most popular thing I've written so far for K Theory. (The other piece is from a few years back on Spokeo, another possible “scam”. Coincidence?) For a long time, it was the top entry in Google, which I imagine still has to burn Fred's britches. Since the last time I checked many moons ago, it has sadly fallen to #3. #1 is now a piece on AIL possibly being a scam. #2 is Fred's LinkedIn account, and this is #3. So 2 of the top 3 are negative pieces. Don't hate the player, hate the game.

To give my emailer a fair shake, and check his argument, I went back to read the original piece, as well as the ensuing thread. After I finished pissing my pants because it was so damn funny, I felt in the proper place to fairly evaluate his argument. So let's do this piece by piece.

Shut the fuck up! this is a rotten pool of slimy leeches who feed off government entitlements and thinks the world owes them.

You wouldn't be my First Lady, but you damn sure would be my last.

Just what is this “rotten pool” you refer to? I love how almost right away this turns into a political debate. I will admit to not being politically savvy at all, so I don't know how to make sense of that argument. Apparently, I am also pro-Obama. I don't know that I would consider that true. I'll level with you. The last time I voted was 2007 for Sara Underwood, and at least she won.

And Kevin, are you gonna tell me you don't google EVERY person you meet?

HEY! How do you know my name? Oh, wait a minute... No, I do not Google every person I meet. Just the hot ones. Hell, I'm doing that right NOW. With God as my witness, I didn't know she had that tattoo there.

You're a fucking disgusting loser who probably lives at home,

OK, you got me there on both counts. I still consider myself a loser, yes, even disgusting at times. And yes, you're are right, I live at home. My home. That I've been paying a mortgage on (even when I was unemployed) for like 10 years now. And one day, it will be all mine at 60% of what I paid for. I suppose you could argue politics on that last point as well, so feel free to.

Stares at useless shit all day on your computer,

Right again here, Criss Angel. All day I stare at the site I use to report things for work, and watch it drag, glitch, freeze and disappear. But at night I stare at porn and DogShaming.com. So if you're calling hot naked chicks and cute puppy dogs 'useless' shit, I care not to know you. And, hey, you're the one who found my site.

downloads speed metal from Itunes using your mommy's credit card,

Damn it, anonymous internet stranger, it's like you're inside my head! Lately, I have been finding myself getting into Maiden, Motorhead, etc. Prime metal stuff that I didn't pay enough attention to. Does that count as speed metal? And who downloads songs from iTunes anymore? You know music is, like, free on the internet, right?

smokes pot all day

Without an ounce of a lie, I can tell you I've never done an illegal drug in my life. Never smoked a joint, dropped acid, took a pill. Really. I will gladly allow skin, blood or hair samples to back me up. Ask your mom for my semen sample.

and lives about 90% of the time in your pajamas.

Dude, wouldn't that fucking rule! Who isn't looking for a job where they wear their pajamas? But, no sadly, I don't. I sport business casual all day; polo shirt, pants, shoes.

You call getting a few e-mails in your junk box harassment? Do you write blogs about every piece of junk mail you get?

Actually, yes I do. Since this ran, I have secured some regular writing gigs. I have done the occasional 'respond to hate mail' bit. I love reader generated content, makes life much easier for me. In fact, one of my regular gigs is an advice column where I answer emails from dipshits like you.

Do what normal people do when they receive junk mail, DELETE IT!!

OK, you got me there. Internet point for you.

What an asshole,

Dad? Well, I can only assume when you left the comma hanging out there, that you had more vitriol to spew forth, but suddenly decided you had sufficiently put me in my place. Kudos to you.

Whoever you are, I sincerely thank you. You brief email on a piece that ran almost three years ago does warm my heart. You let me know I am doing my job. It gave me that spark of creativity I have been looking for. In fact, I am now inspired to keep writing material for one of my side jobs at the cost of other obligations I had tonight. I do appreciate you voicing your opinion.

Christmas Rant 2011

I have a house, it has 4 walls, a slightly leaky crawl space and a roof. Everything I need and want is here: my girl, my dog and my TV. (Although the order of favorites varies.)

And every Xmas I get all riled up. There's too much hassle, too much hustle-bustle. Lost is the original message. I mean, even take all the religious connotations out of it. It can all be for the birth of R2-D2 for all I care. Hell, I forget what the original message of the season is, but I am pretty sure it is not what commercials and circulars from chain stores tell me. I am pretty sure it is not spend, spend, spend. And while that is spurring the economy, putting it on your already maxed out cards ain't helping anybody but the freaking 1%.

Sure, Xmas is fun when you're a kid; believing and all that stuff. But on top of that, the presents! All kinds of cool toys for young minds. But as you grow older, there is less and less 'fun stuff' to expect. I still cling to the idea of cool presents are presents that you need batteries for, or plug in, or light up, or cut people, etc. Unfortunately, this society mostly frowns on adults getting Nerf guns. Alas, it comes time to expect 'grown up' items.

For years I fought that urge that 'older' people get. You know, the urge where they are actually stoked to get clothes, socks and underwear. I fought this for years until I finally realized any new clothes extends wash day, and I am totally down with that. And just about everybody else has a better sense of fashion than myself. Most of my wardrobe-if you can call it that-is black. So the idea of me picking out a non-black item of clothing is rather scary.

Newsflash; after that, it's all pretty trivial. Sure I'd love to get seasons 6-20 of The Simpsons. But the fact of the matter is that I look across the room, and see seasons 3-5 still in their wrappers. What I would really love is the fucking time to watch all these DVDs, read these books, listen to these CDs. Next to my bed are a mound of books (some even without pictures!) why in the blue hell would I need another one? Does anyone even really buy DVD/Blu Rays anymore? That's out of control. Unless you really, really love a movie, is there even a point to buying a DVD of it? Show me the motards that bought Are We There Yet or any Adam Sandler DVD, and I will show you some yahoo with no taste, and the money to prove it.

We already have enough. I drag my feet every year on making a list. Really, I have more than I know what to do with. Presents I've asked for, presents I didn't ask for. I am an idiot. .

Anymore, Xmas lists are just an exercise in excess. Maybe put down one or two things you just haven't bought for yourself. Always wuss out, and just ask for stuff with your favorite sports team/TV show/movie/musician emblazoned on it somewhere. Stuff that's nice to have, but definitely not a necessity. It's a struggle for me to make a list. And you know what? That's a pretty damn good gift in it's own right.

Enough already. Do you not have more shit than you know what to do with? Christmas has gotten fucking out of hand! It's grown to be all about consumption; sometimes even in a conspicuous manner.

Look, I will be the first to say I am the biggest, heartless bastard on the planet. I am largely unmoved by most human tragedy. I can't tell you the last time I cried. (OK, it was reading Marley and Me.) But this is getting out of control. Any stretch of TV watching will see you deluged by lavish Xmas commercials. The ones that kill me are the car ones. Are we still not steeped in a recession? Yet, every car manufacturer has commercials where people are getting cars for Xmas. Really? Really? I mean, it's a nice, grandiose thought and all, but the economy is still in the shitter. The last thing we need is to promote reckless spending. And where the fuck do these people get the big red bows?

The biggest hassle of the holidays is buying stuff for everyone else. And if that is not enough, we have to show some thought about the gift, too. Like make that next logical leap from what the item on list is to fantabulous object that they will love didn't even know existed. I've already admitted to being a blackhearted bastard, so this gift card to the liquor store will have to do. (If the cashier tells you there is no balance on it, tell her she is mistaken.) Generally, those of us with black hearts are not very thoughtful. But we do love rock n roll.

So, enough. Enough Snuggies, LeapPads and shit from Brookstones. What kills me is that now I'm expected to buy presents for the children of acquaintances. Really? Really? So let me get this straight, since you have crotch fruit, it's now on me to buy them another for their avalanche of presents? It's out of control. Now, if you'll allow me to get in my rocking chair and tell you what it was like when I was a kid; before remote control TVs. The only ones who got me gifts were my parents. (OK, my grandparents kicked in a few bucks and cookies, too.) When my parent's friends came over, they didn't bring me presents, nor were they expected to. I would happily be busy playing with my new gifts. Or setting stuff on fire, but that's a different story. Nowadays, kids get presents from parents, grand parents, aunts, uncles, cousins, neighbors, and friends of any of the above. Huh? Why is it on me to buy a gift for a snotnose who doesn't even know my name? And that's my test. If I am around the kid to the point it (yes, I know I said 'it') knows my name, then a gift isn't that out of the question. However, if said lil' goober doesn't know my name, they can go pound sand if they think they're getting a gift from me. You can't go over any house where they have kids and not see a small toy store morphing out from the tree. Really? Really? What are we teaching these kids when we do this? We're teaching them consumption. When they go from house to house like some demented Holiday Halloween, the parents gotta rent a Uhual for all their presents. We're giving them more gifts than what they know what to do with (and, face it, in some cases, deserve). No way Junior plays with all those gifts, most fall through the cracks.

So let's end the madness here; let's do something. Here's a novel idea. Let's stop buying shit for people who don't know what to do with everything they have; I.e everybody. Take that cash you would have spent, and put it somewhere where it will do the most good. My pocket. Wait, did I just say that? I meant, give it to charity. We can call our new holiday Charitymas. You can be of any race, religion, sex, nationality to participate in Charitymas. Ha, take that, world peace! We can make this holiday ours, not taken over by massive corporations. Somebody tell those Occupy kids about Charitymas, and I am sure that'll clear things up.

Let's take this back. Let's make it something meaningful again. Screw all this bullshit Black Friday madness. If I want to be peppersprayed, I'll go above Occupy protest. Instead, spend the night with your family-if they can stand you-in a nice, warm, safe house. Some folks would be happy just to have that. At your leisure, go out and buy a few gifts for a family that is going through a rough time. Trust me, that shitty five dollar toy train means a lot more more to a kid who didn't get the breaks like your doofus nephew. Don't forget you can also just give money straight to a charity. Hell, it's been a banner year for me giving to the Salvation Army. I am on pace to destroy last year's record of $4.37. Just today I kicked in a boss 89 cents and a few odd coat buttons. Viva karma!

And don't forget our furry friends this year. Shelters are too full of dogs who can make your home complete. And they will never tell you you drink too much. Or to put on pants. Cats you can leave at the shelter. (Damn blackheart acting out again.)

OK, I feel better. Merry Xmas, y'all.