This aggression will not stand, man!

I have seen the portents.

The everyday visits to the coffee shop.

The decreasing number of holes and safety pins in your clothing.

That you have suddenly become a “filmmaker” and act like it’s the best thing ever and that your knowledge on the subject is vast and unassailable, when you have not worked in real production or with real filmmakers.

It was porn, for Chrissake, and I don’t care how much actual dialogue is in your film. It’s goddamn porn.

Oh, let’s not forget that you’re now freaking out about having met Thom Yorke.

And tonight, tonight is the kicker. Suddenly you, who probably gave herself a mental blue ribbon for having finished Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone, is going to a bar to read Bukowski. Bukowski, of all people. Is Bukowski even more than a Modest Mouse song to you?

It’s all clear to me now. You’re becoming a hipster. I have no idea how or why, but now you’re on the straight track to Portland.

My every nerve is crying out for justice. I want your stupidity laid bare before a jury of your peers. I want everyone to know what a conniving, uninteresting, attention whore you are. My college degree insists on it, screams for vindication.

And this is all that will result from my anger. Just a passive-aggressive blog post. But I do hope you choke on it, and I mean that sincerely.