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.

11 thoughts on “Memorandum

  1. Sheila Ryan

    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.

  2. Jonathan McNicol

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

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

  3. Rick Neece

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

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