Acknowledge internal contradictions or face ridicule

I hate artsy foreign films and stifling political agendas in art. I hate pseudo-intellectual… I hate artsy foreign films and stifling political agendas in art. I hate pseudo-intellectual punks who think their opinion is more valid than anyone else’s simply because they wear painfully tight jeans. Pretentious art snobs who paint geometric shapes because it is so “modernist-Dada-cubist, neo-fascist, constructionist, Marxist transcendental revision of the Mona Lisa in F-minor” and anti-corporate ideologists who shop at Hot Topic — hate ’em. And I hate people who think the only worthwhile music is made by artists who can’t get signed. I hate people so obsessed with being individuals that they forget to be unique.

I hate girls who ask “for real?” say “nuh-uh” and drink cheap, canned beer through a straw. I hate girls who are old enough to go to a bar but still don’t know how to hold their liquor and have to be physically removed from the bathroom. I hate everyone who gives alcoholism a bad name, including drunk women who cry in public. I hate people who can’t laugh at themselves, and I hate everyone who sings the eight-and-a-half-minute-long “American Pie” song at karaoke.

I hate anyone who tells a story that solely consists of, “Dude, I was so wasted last night.” Losers obsessed with prescription painkillers are losers that I hate. People who profess their love for “Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas,” but have no idea who Hunter S. Thompson was are hated by none other than me. Anyone who wears a pot leaf necklace and thinks weed should be legalized because, “Yo man, dude. Ya know what I’m saying? It’s the mad chronic, dawg. It’s good for you, man. Look what it’s done for me, dude, man.” I hate everyone who bases self-worth on exaggerated drug use.

I hate anyone who quotes elaborate observations made by Helen Keller. Abstinence advocates, straight-edge punks, raising-awareness ribbons, new-age crystal gazing and people who believe in the Oedipal complex. Youth groups and the National Honor Society — I hate those, too. I hate people who are bureaucratic drones before they enter the work force.

I hate conspiracy theorists and people who yell at me because I didn’t vote. Anyone who blames Columbine on Marilyn Manson or wants to bust a cap in Charlton Heston for his views on gun control. The Pittsburgh Parking Authority? Hate them for excessively harassing me for street-cleaning violations while psychopaths with sawed-off shotguns are massacring bars down the street.

I hate people who believe carbs are sadistic demons unleashed from hell to promote weight gain as they shove bacon in their greasily eager mouths. Whoever initiated the low-carb menu at Panera Bread? I hate that person, whoever they are. Zoos, aquariums, petting farms and vegetarians who tell me while I’m eating a cheeseburger that I’ll be damned to hell and ritually dismembered by reanimated, bloodthirsty cow carcasses. Anyone who has so little self-respect as to have ever ordered a “triple, skinny, half-caff, no whip, no foam latte with one pump of vanilla.” People who think they’re too classy to go bowling or drink beer, and anyone who is disgusted by South Oakland. I hate everyone who makes the natural process of eating into an exercise in molecular biology.

I hate every sorority automaton with a stupid miniature nose ring and those hideous furry boots that look like footwear from a bad 1970s sci-fi apocalyptic future. American Eagle, Aeropostale, Abercrombie ‘ Fitch and any other overpriced store that fits the alliteration theme. I hate slaves to trends who stare at me like I’m Elephant Man because I’ve been emancipated from this fashion addiction.

I hate people who ask me if I’ve found Jesus and people who don’t understand how I can possibly be Jewish because I don’t have dark hair or a big nose. I hate karma, kaballah, kismet and, oh yeah, the other KKK. I hate evangelism and people who strive to be stereotypes.

I hate reality shows and star-struck morons who ask for the contestants’ autographs. People without any scars. Everyone who puts shiny rims on Dodge Caravans. I hate people who don’t acknowledge their own contradictions. I hate pedestrians when I’m driving, and I hate cars when I’m walking.

Send hate mail to Lucy Leitner at LRL11@pitt.edu.