The Literary Review is dedicated to exposing the worst things about combinations of words. I don’t know the percentage of people in the world that can read and write, but I do know that 98% of those people are verifiably stupid and that 99% of those verified absolutely have to bring their stupidity to the public light. Having said that, I don’t mean to insult the writer, but the words they have written. So, if you’re a writer and you see this and think, “Hey, that’s not fair,” don’t blame me. It was you who wrote the dumb shit in the first place.
I used to be an idiot. I still am sometimes. For example, my greatest contribution to yesterday was the thought “Instead of animal crackers, they should make animal croutons! You know, for salads.” That’s the kind of thinking that, in the mid 1900’s, would have led my parents to hiding me under a porch at six, and only letting me out when Atticus Finch allowed his kids to come over and play.
But I used to be far worse. For example, here is a part of a Facebook note I wrote, spelling and grammar left intact for posterity and humorous effect.
“im scared. i dont want to end up alone. i dont want to be alone. is this the course im gonna be on for my life? will it get better? i hope so
maybe its jealousy, maybe im over reacting, but when i see all these people in happy relationships, i cant help it,
ive fallen in love before, not many times, but enough to know what its like to be rejected by someone you thought the world of,
in the movies, the nerdy sweet guy always gets the girl from the jock mean guy, but it doesnt work out that way at all,
you try but shes still with that guy, still drawn to him like a moth to a light,
i hate you. honestly i really do, all of you girls who are too damn stupid, and so caught up with what people want from you, and not with what people want to give to you, we might say its ok, but inside we hate you
this note is written for all the guys who live like me in world, scared, almost hopeless, happy but hopeless, all the me’s out there. “
I’m going to give you the chance to laugh at how utterly moronic this sounds. They say that every human has some sort of worth, but the only worth I can gather from this time in my life was boosting the floundering hand lotion and Kleenex economies. “all the me’s out there.” How poetic, younger Daniel. If you weren’t winning over women in real life, surely phrases like “jock mean guy,” “scared, almost hopeless” and “when i see all these people in happy relationships, i cant help it,” when strung together poorly on a social networking site, would have you swimming in sex and admiration. If my computer had broken down after I wrote this note, tech support would have simply called me a loser. If someone had confronted me about this at the time, I probably wouldn’t have been able to handle it and evaporated into a rain cloud of my own tears. Okay, enough me. Time for you.
Crogg no like to be touched after. Crogg make you walk home alone.
I believe modern romance was invented when a caveman first decided “She doesn’t seem to be enjoying my rape/rape again method. I’ll ferment grape juice and try again later.” Since then, one of man’s primary pre-occupations has been wooing women for the purpose of relationships and sex. Books have been written on the subject, advice columns ran and movies made, and still, one of man’s greatest strategies for attracting a woman has been self-sabotage. That piece of writing you read above? I don’t know where I found it, but I must have read something somewhere that said “Want her to get hot in the pants? Whine.”
This is what this review is about. A manifesto of the aforementioned self-sabotage, that is about as successful as a costume of hornets when it comes to making someone fall for you.
Starting off by calling them “females,” while the correct term, is fairly creepy. When opening like this, I wouldn’t be surprised if the next lines were “Take a look at your surroundings. There is only enough air in the terrarium for thirty minutes. You must escape. Quickly, I’M RELEASING THE ANTS!”
“I’m fedup. Done. Finished.”
I’m glad that you’ve turned “fed up” into one word. That makes it easier to read and surely left you more time to practice counting into the double digits.