There is nothing unholier than the feeling you get when you see a guy walking down the street, the waist of his pants hanging far lower than society should tolerate, carrying a speaker (not a tiny palm-size one, mind; a massive over-the-shoulder boombox thing), obnoxiously trumpeting Skrillex’s Bangarang… and then it hits you. The icy, soul-crushing irony that comes with the realization that you - yes, YOU! - sold him said speaker just over a week ago.

That YOU are at least somewhat responsible for the current brain-cell genocide taking place right before your very eyes, and your heart aches with guilt and shame.

I hate myself.

2 notes
tagged as: supplying weapons of mass destruction to bogans since '08.

  1. danaromanoffed replied:
  2. krevlornswath posted this

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