Curmudgeon, by Mickey Stringer

My name is unimportant. Others simply refer to me as “The Curmudgeon.” You may deem this a rather undesirable moniker, but I, on the other hand, adore it. It lets regular folk know not to fuck with me.

I’ve been called many things, none of which do I agree with – mean, unsociable, cynical, pessimistic – but the adjective with which I least agree is “arrogant.” I’m a lowly human like everyone else, albeit a little less lowly.

I was blessed with unparalleled critical thinking abilities. It’s something I have to live with. That doesn’t necessarily make me feel better than you, it just makes it easier for me to see how inadequate you are. I mean, it’s just incredible how infinitely lame you humans are. Example:

Dad (Bozo) – Hi, honey… kids.

Mom (Bimbo) – Hi, ATM! How was work?!

Son (Toolbox) – Hiya dad!

Daughter (Also a bimbo) – Hey…

Dad – What’s for dinner?

Mom – I don’t cook so… probably some overly-prepared, deep-fried artificial protein substance left in the freezer!

Daughter – Mmm, protein substance…

Son – Freezers are COOL! Haha, Get it?!

Dad – (Disgusted, defeated sigh) I’m going to the bar to drink my face off and forget that I wasted the last forty years of my life. My car might get frisky with an oak tree on the way home, so don’t wait up for me.

Frighteningly accurate. You people basically fingerpaint in your own feces all day and then pat yourself on the back like you invented the lightsaber.

OH MYLANTA! You advised the president on who he’d have to fellate to get the [More Money for Rich People] Bill passed?!

You’re my fucking hero.
Thank God none of you little pustules would ever consider doing something creative and original. The world definitely needs more dick-brained tight-asses in suits projecting their insecurities on people with less “power.” Seriously, where would we BE without brainwashing businessmen?!
No Earth-raping industry?
No American Idol (Clay is GAY?!)?
No back-stabbing money whores?
AAAGHH!!! The minorities might reach equal financial footing and have the resources to point out how dick-brained we are!
I’m proud to be a pessimistic asshole then if it refers to nothing else but my refusal to be a sheep. Call me “Curmudgeon.” Shun me if I threaten your sterile sitcom of a life. But when all is said and done, your knowledge of corporate bureaucracy, political slapdicking, and social conformity means nothing. Maybe a little less.
Peace out, peasants.

[End YouTube Rant]

Mick Stringer hails from the salty banks of the Baltimore Harbor – the bloated floater and sea-garbage capital of Maryland (the real capital is Annapolis). He likes animals, despises most people, and writes exclusively for Oatmeal Magazine in between composing widely unknown and easily-forgotten rock tunes in his bedroom… which are, ahem, very accessible on

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