you know the day i was born, there were these four dudes up on a hill, and they said they saw this star hanging out over town and the whole world seemed to stand still. it made the sunday papers, i guess it proves for sure…

I saw this in New York last weekend. I’m pretty sure it was on the N train, Queens-bound, but now that I think about it there’s a very real possibility it was the W. But not the R. Never the R. Because even though they’re all three of them yellow, the R is always wrong.

That’s what it stands for: “wrong.”

Unlike the W which is always right. And I know you think that’s confusing, but no one really gives a shit what you think. You’re simple-minded, but I’m sure if you asked nicely, someone who isn’t stupid like you will lend a helping hand and maybe draw you a map, or check under your bed for monsters or something.

Anyways, the point I’m trying to make is this: racism is funny.

Also, I’ve decided I don’t want to be Facebook friends with you any longer.

It’s not that I hate you. I do, but that has nothing to do with it. Rather, I just don’t want to hurt your feelings when I log on one day and notice it’s your birthday, but I choose not to post anything on your “wall,” or super-poke you, or whatever the devil else it is you people do on the Facebook. I just can’t be bothered with that brand of nonsense, and I think it will save you a lot of heartache if I go ahead and make a clean break.

Don’t take it personally.

Or do. Whatever.

Write this down, Internet: if anyone ever encourages you to buy a six-pack of this, you should immediately punch them in the face. I don’t care if she’s that cute brunette liquor store clerk that always shows cleavage and thought your “I put the ‘pub’ in ‘republican’” t-shirt was funny, you punch her right in her goddamned face.