October 02, 2005

Icing on the Cake

I was just thinking today how anyone who doesn't know me in real life, and only through my online persona of rohitsrealm.com blogger, might actually believe I really am as cynical, bitter, depressed, and elitist as I come off through my writing. Okay, so maybe it's true, but those who know me outside of the Internet will have to agree that while my blog does seem to weigh heavily towards the aforementioned topics, I am not incapable of other emotions. To at least partially address this issue, and perhaps even rectify some misguided perceptions people may hold, I will now present a uncharacteristically positive entry.

This weekend has been awesome. I mean, it was unbelievably great. Good people, good times, lots of fun. The CalSO reunion went really well, we killed Arizona, 28–0, and the post-game party at Thalassa was a fitting conclusion. Rather than talk about all these things, however, I'll leave the description to the photographs. Instead, I'd like to talk about the icing on the cake, so to speak, for this weekend that I discovered as I was looking through old entries on my site.

Now, I would venture that most of my entries are anything but uncontroversial, and usually tend to drive a fair amount of comment traffic, as people agree, disagree, or simply hate. Most of these comments are by people I know, with only a very small percentage coming from random people. Today, however, I discovered what had to be the most hilarious, ridiculous, and downright idiotic random comment of all time, in one of my own personal favorite entries of the year: Pop Ya Collar, my tirade against the idiotic phenomenon that seems to have inflicted thousands of posers near and far. Here it is, reproduced in its full glory:

You stupid fucker, I pop my collar because I fucking like it and always have. I don't give a fuck how much you degrade me, I have more a life than ANY of you hating motherfuckers do. I have more fucking girls at my hands, and more of a job working at AE, and more of a fucking life than you ever will. Get your fat ass off this computer if your going to hate bitch, stop degrading people better than you. Girl's check my pictures, much better than most of the idiots here crying about the style. Email me if you got problems.

—[redacted]

Before I address this comment, let me give you some background. Unfortunately, the URL this dumb ass typed wasn't valid, so I did a little bit of research, and unsurprisingly, found his Xanga site. Reading through it, I discovered a few facts about our indignant friend:

• His picture has him wearing TWO polo shirts, both with collars popped. Man, that's hot.
• He's born in December 1986, which makes him an 18 year old kid and a freshman in college.
• His so-called expertise? Everything you can think of .. I can do .. and I can do it with style babyy ;)
• His latest entry? never seems to fail.. every weekend is just another lonely weekend with no one with you and sitting watching tv and sleeping.......great college life...................
• He recently lost his cell phone at a McDonalds.

And now, just for kicks, here's my brief, open response to this comment:

Dear [redacted],

Thanks for your comment. I sincerely appreciate you taking the time from your busy schedule of jerking off, sleeping, watching television, missing classes, popping your several collars, and working a menial job in clothing retail to write a poorly worded, idiotically composed, grammatically questionable response to my March entry, Pop Ya Collar. I am very glad indeed that you don't give a fuck how much [I] degrade [you], because in the course of this correspondence, I will be doing exactly that with unrestrained resolve.

I suppose I could take offense at your foolish ranting, but honestly, having read through your moronic Xanga entries, which, by the way, seem to be the work of a less than exceptional first-grader, I would be hard pressed to actually bring myself to respect you as a human being, let alone as a critic worthy of consideration. I realize you probably don't have much in your life to feel confident about, and thus, must take solace in the fucking girls at your hands and the feelings of adequacy (not only in a sexual context, but in life as well) that your popped collars must bring you, but honestly, can you actually be using your job at AE as a point of validation? And if your notion of having a life is based upon your latest Xanga entries, well, I'm certainly quite thrilled I don't meet your stringent criteria.

Quite truthfully, you are not worth my time, and if it weren't for the fact that your most pathetic existence unequivocally validates my earlier postulations regarding antidepressants, I wouldn't even be wasting my time writing this response. The fact of the matter is, regardless of whether or not you would like to vainly believe that you are better than [me], all indicators seem to suggest the exact opposite, and frankly, realizing that people like you exist in this world makes me feel much better about my own life. I may not have all that I desire, but it's nice knowing I will always be much more successful, intelligent, and ultimately happy in my life than you ever will be in yours.

I sincerely hope you at some point take your head out of your own ass and realize how stupid you truly are, but having read your poor excuse for prose, I really doubt it. Perhaps in fifty years, when I have forgotten all about your worthless existence, much as I might an insect I errantly crush, you will realize the extent of your own misery, but by then it'll be too late—your failed attempt at life will be complete.

Best Regards,

Rohit

P.S. The fourth and fifth sentences in your comment make no sense whatsoever. I know it's hard, but in the future, please try to think about what you're writing before spewing incoherent nonsense.

So, there you have it. The icing on the cake! Now, not only do you have my trademarked antidepressant, but an officially endorsed website to feel better about yourself. Enjoy life, everyone!