May 30th, 2004


Stupid People - A Comedy Gold-mine

Once more reinforcing my own Godlike sense of self-importance, I had a stupid person ping me over MSN earlier. Now, I leave it open and I don't block unknown addresses immediately. Sometimes the person turns out to be worthwhile to talk to, such as my_lovers_eyes. Unfortunately, most of the time, it's a stupid person.

Admittedly, today's was so obvious it might have been a ringer. Anyone who has a Hotmail account user name of "dr____death" is broadcasting their own lack of higher brain functions for the world to see already. Compounding this was a handle which wrapped right off the top of Gaim's message view, which I have set long enough for most people. Worse, it was gaming related. Even worse, it was related to the kind of retarded pap twelve year olds on crack call gaming, the sort that goes on about Abominations with true magic and Desert Eagles. And silver katanas.

See, I'd let this person get as far as being able to message me and already I was in possession of all the facts I need to justify harvesting his organs for needy peoplea laugh. Unfortunately, this was not the case for the idiot.

I am an Old Fashioned Bastard. Online introductions, where not facilitated through some community such as a message board or a mailing list, should generally be made via e-mail[0]. Instant messenger makes dangerous assumptions, to wit: a) I want to communicate with you in real-time, rather than taking my sweet time with a glass of gin and razor bladeswine or vodka and crafting a proper reply, b) I want you to be able to see when I am around for you to pester, c) that I want to even consider adding you to a list of people I frequently communicate with, often with an intriguingly friendly title lie "Buddy List", d) That I want to subject myself to the kind of message which is the inbred product of a complete inability to use the English language and a shit grasp of texter slang that even these vomit-brained people do not even waste on an e-mail indicating where they will be fellating their collective fathers.

But I digress.

But wait! This could just be someone I know being sarcastic in some way, so I issue my standard Intelligence Request Packet[1]. I would attempt to translate the train-wreck of "language" that I found in response after a ridiculous interval, but reading through the logs it's not that bad. I'm disappointed, or maybe this was an upper-class idiot. Not realising that "know" is in fact four letters is a strike against, as is not being sure whether it[2] is using "you" or "u" in the lingo du jour. The response basically questions my attitude (so it's ignorant, and should have e-mailed first), then I am informed that my e-mail address is being circulated between gamers. My response involves sex and travel. It's an idiot, and staying around much longer — especially with an offensively long handle &madsh; is unhealthy.

Why do such people exist? Why are there people whom I know will be dumb before they send their first message that bother to contact me, and why do these people then express incredulity when told that they are idiots who should fuck themselves? This is a question nobody will ever know the answer to. This episode does demonstrate a good point in an amusing manner, though: Think before you contact me: Are you an idiot? If so, at least use e-mail...

[0]: The intelligent people out there will already have noticed the "generally". The cases already mentioned and ones like them are exceptions. This rant does not apply to them. But they are being brushed over with this footnote because sometimes it's more therapeutic to say "Fuck the world" than "Fuck the world, apart from Margate and Southend-on-Sea because I rather like those bits"
[1]: "Who are you and why are you cool enough that I should care?" I'm an egotistical bastard, what did you expect?
[2]: A gender neutral pronoun. Also, a handily dehumanizing one.
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A week

Parents are going away tomorrow, before I drag myself out of bed. Week in Prague. Which feels weird, I have to say. Another holiday for them, as it were. Another milestone. Another reason to want out but another reason to stay.

Bah. Thoughts conflicting in my head. Trying to distract myself before I reach critical mass again because I don't want to spend the oh-so-rare long Sunday night in the midst of a total and complete funk. But there's thoughts in there I will have to think and deal with if I'm going to do anything worthwhile about plans and the future.

Fuck. I hate the real world, get me back to academia.
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