People that should start to pray.
So, I've been thinking lately that there are a lot of rude, self-absorbed, scum sucking, amoeba-brain sized individuals on this Earth that just beg to be drop kicked into the nearest gorge and break every bone on the way down until they release their bowels after suffering excrutiating pain from the 500-ft. plummet before they finally expire.
Now then, I never believed in prayer when I was religious and I think people that do it now are contradicting themselves since God supposedly has a divine plan. It's a selfish act that begs the question as to why worshippers believe that intertwining their fingers while kneeling, lifting their hands up in church or bowing their heads with their eyes closed will envoke anything but futility.
That being said, here's a small list of certain types of people that, regardless of beliefs, need to pray because if I ever get the chance to do so, I will personally torture and/or humiliate them for being such a waste of food, manners, air and resources.
1. The Passively-Rude-Inside-The-Movie-Theatre-Bright-Screen-Cell-Phone-User - So, I see you got a cell phone there. Yeah, I got one, too. Oh, look at that! That's quite a luminous glow! I bet you got a text message or maybe you felt your phone vibrate when you set it on silent as to not disturb anyone else in the theatre with your lame flavor of the week ringtone. You think you're being considerate by making no noise, eh? Newsflash, dipshit; we can all see your FUCKING SCREEN. We want our eyes to focus on the big ass screen with the funny/dramatic/action packed movie, but we're drawn like moths to the flame to your silly little glaring cell phone nuisance. We can't help it; it's just how our ocular vision works. The next time I'm in a theatre eating my popcorn and munching on my box of Whoppers, I'm going to storm over to where the yuppy is sitting and give him/her an instant message of pain.
2. The I-Just-Turned-Twenty-One-Drink-Expert - Most commonly found in large groups of bar douchebags that go out every weekend to mingle with other large groups of bar douchebags, the Twenty One Guy likes to see himself as a self-proclaimed master of the booze because he's of legal drinking age and he's done his homework on every single mixed drink the interweb has to offer! Don't think he's going to be shy, either. Since he fancies himself so skilled in liquor combinations, he'll recommend the same bland, watered down mixed drinks this side of a stripclub because it was survey says "extremely popular." The truth of the matter is he wouldn't know what hard alcohol was if he was beamed in the head with a bottle of moonshine. There are a few ways to shut up Mr. Hair of the Dog, but the best way is to recommend to him a very special drink called the Louisville Slugger, which consists of breaking a Corona bottle over his head and promptly kicking him in the balls.
3. The Loud-Mouthed-Classroom-Minority - It's nice to see so many people taking the same class as me. I can't wait to learn about Arthurian legends! Class seems to have started and the instructor is handing out the syllabus. Hmm, what's the annoying noise? Could it be coming from up front? Oh shit, not one of these chuckleheaded tumors. The instructor doesn't want to hear about your annoying children, your pitiful drug using past, your time in prison with a cellmate named Sharonda, how you found Jesus, what type of car you drive, what kind of house you rent, your menial shit job or ANYTHING. SHUT THE FUCK UP AND ABSORB KNOWLEDGE, YOU FESTERING BOIL OF A DRIED UP HAG! For the sake of sounding racist, sometimes it's a PWT (poor white trash) bitch and they're almost as bad, or even worse, as the black ones and the Mexican ones. It's usually never a guy; it's always women. It's like they morphed into humongous squawking magpies that have lost the ability to close their pie holes and restrain themselves from divulging personal information about their empty, non-influential lives. The next time I have the misfortune of being in the same learning environment as these social parasites, the gloves will come off and the fur will fucking fly when I unleash my arsenal of rabid wolverines onto their flesh and gleefully hop up and down with delight as I rid myself of another mental inhibitor.
(more to come...until next time...)
"When the majority believes in what is false, the truth becomes a quest." - Me