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Rant: Internet Comments

So I was on soundcloud today (as usual) and I came across an Excision track. I listened to it, and was reading some comments that were left by people. “This is shit,” or “soRry but i hAte thiS” were some of the most common. This didn’t change my opinion on the track; I liked it, but it wasn’t my favorite. I began to think to myself, “Why don’t these idio—, ahem, young men and women provide constructive criticism that the artist could use to improve their skills or take in what their fans would like to hear. Whenever I comment (albiet, not often) I like to listen to the track a few times and find what works and what doesn’t and support the artist in their producing career in the only way I can: words.Sometimes, I put up silly puns or make jokes, but that’s just because I like listening to what they do and hope they find what I say helpful, uplifting, humorous, etc, and they keep making music for me to listen to. That’s all I have to say about that.

Cutting in Line

It sounds like a childish thing to be angry about. I, personally, take it to offense. What makes one person greater than an exact equal person of status such as myself? Are we not the same, do we not have the same desire? Isn’t that why we are in THIS line? A common goal, and common practice, but you were too damn IMPATIENT to wait the same as I. Hey, maybe I don’t have friends twelve people in front of me, but if I did, I’d wait because WHY should those twelve suffer waiting for another person than the one in front of them? Maybe I don’t have friends? Maybe, I’d like to smash your face in the ground several times over, possibly less because you’re a girl? Maybe, I have digressed from the main point. You pass me by, not giving into thought that, “Hmmm, I don’t really like when I have to wait any longer than I should,” because you are too insensitive to notice, and I am too merciful to smash your fa—, too kind and gentle to disagree otherwise. I don’t want to cause a scene of your bloodied face pressed to my fis— of our heated retorts to one another. I could blame you, for being the way you are: inconsiderate, cold, brainless, lacking in any appeal. I could blame your parents, for not slapping ENOUGH sense into you, or not aborting you when they could. Call me mean, call me cruel, call me uncaring, call me sick, call me rude, call me a bastard, what have you. But know that the only one greater than I is my superior, as you are but my equal. Treat thy neighbor how you seek to be treated; and if you shit on me, I’ll shit on you too.

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