October 29, 2011



Please disregard my recent emails. Forget about the phone messages, too. I know I sounded angry and excited, but I’ve had a chance to think things over and I don’t feel the same as I did when I said all of those hurtful words. I won’t apologize for the basis of my comments—I have a right to my own opinions, especially because they are correct—but regret your exposure to that barrage of toxicity. And the physical threats. You’ll notice I did not say “sorry.” That word is for the weak.

Now that I’ve cooled off it’s not difficult to reconstruct how I worked myself into such a snit. First of all, I’m very self-centered. Obsessed with myself, some say, and they are correct—although I couldn’t give two shits about their opinions anyway. Secondly, I tend to over-think. That’s right: while the rest of the world is under-thinking, I’m fretting and fussing over the smallest fucking details. Do I worry too much? You have no idea! No, seriously. You really don’t know.

The worst part is that I allowed my emotions to take control. There I was, ready to rain hellfire on your asses and the asses of your pets and children and as-of-now unborn children. Or shave all your body hair, make a pillow from the clippings, and lay down my head to dream about doing it all over again. Kind of a kick in the ass for all of you who dismissed me as some kind of passive robotic pedant. That’s MISTER Passive Robotic Pedant to you, dipshits.

The underlying truth is this: I was right the whole time; I knew I was right, and I should have just relaxed and luxuriated in the glow of my certitude. The rest of you can yammer and hiss and bark until you burst an artery, but seriously, your assertions are baseless and in fact worthy of derision instead of consideration.

In the absence of clear direction—this void of management, this vacuum of authority—I now and forever confer on myself the mantle of supreme leadership. Cast your eyes downward if you dare approach me. I am the exalted and deserving bearer of the secret flame.

I will say it one last time, incisively and cogently for all of you mouth-breathing fucktards who cannot read without moving your lips.

The toilet paper roll dispenses away from the wall, not towards the wall.

Can you possibly get that straight next time? I doubt it.


  1. Michael Grant Smith on October 29th, 2011 at 9:25 am

    Well, there goes another two and a half minutes you can never get back.

  2. M Sarki on October 29th, 2011 at 9:46 am

    nicely said.

  3. Joel Bernstein on October 29th, 2011 at 12:42 pm


  4. Dave Vogt on October 29th, 2011 at 4:57 pm

    tl;dr: MGS doesn’t have any toddlers or cats at home.

  5. Rick Neece on October 29th, 2011 at 5:15 pm

    I think MGS has cats at home.

  6. Sheila Ryan on October 29th, 2011 at 5:21 pm

    And a dog he don’t even keep in a metal shed but allows to hang out with him on his porch. Or breezeway. Or whatever.

  7. Rick Neece on October 29th, 2011 at 5:29 pm

    MGS, The toilet paper? Yes! Over, not under!

  8. Rick Neece on October 29th, 2011 at 5:32 pm

    I have unrolled half-a-roll, at a sitting, on a yank from under.

  9. Dave Vogt on October 30th, 2011 at 9:40 am

    To clarify, over is correct but under is not inexcusable. It makes things much harder for mischievous toddlers and cats to destroy.

  10. Jonathan McNicol on November 8th, 2011 at 11:37 am

    MGS: You should submit this to McSweeney’s. Just sayin’.

    Rick: Sometimes you need half a roll, though. No? Is that just me?

  11. Rick Neece on November 8th, 2011 at 1:56 pm

    Yes, sometimes a half-roll is required. ‘Specially, say, the morning after high-fibre vegetable soup supper.