Hey Mr. Douchebag

Tonight at the bar next door to me, I got to see the worlds biggest idiot, douchebag. An older fellow, maybe 43 or 45, he was wearing an expensive watch and an equally expensive woman. He had, in his earlobes, not the tough looking metallic, surgical steel earrings that are so often equated with tough guys or Mr Clean look-a-likes but, instead he wore a pair of diamond studs in his ears. Now, far be it from me to talk fashion sense but any man with those earrings in his head deserves to be hunted down and eaten by genetically enhanced pack rats. I watched him as he flaunted his cash, a move that should also get any man who does it mugged and sodomized by a gibbon of above average strength. The thing about Mr. Douchebag, that bugs me so, is the fact that our planet is full of these fat vag packs that think money gives them power. Granted in the working world or the world of the high roller, playboy, perhaps these people do have power but on the streets of any city, USA on any given night, with no real entourage or retinue to back them up, they don't seem to realized that they are just meat. A fatty helping of soft, non-calloused tissue that the monetarily poor, yet physically dominant would just consider an inconvenience to be swatted around before being devoured. These so called men make my blood boil so hot that I sometimes thing it is going to bubble out of my eyes, when I am confronted by one of them I want nothing more than to see them suffer and scream as one thousand junkies slowly devour them using nothing more than a plastic spork and some HP brown sauce. People will say that I am jealous of what these guys have and that is why they anger me so but that could not be further from the truth. I revile them because they believe the measure of a man is money, not wisdom, not intellect, not even strength but money a piece of paper that only has value because someone at the Fed tells you it does. This is why I long for a day when the world market breaks down and people like Mr. Douchebag are forced to live without their trust fund money. Oh how many will die? Most of them I should think and I couldn't be more pleased about it. I will get rope that day and lash the bloating carcases of the newly dead, Douchey rich together and float my ship of fools out to sea,which is where i will sink it, in order to start a lobster farm and, in two years time, i will open my lobster restaurant, Eat the Rich...Expensive sea food at reasonable prices.