Stop Doing Drugs

Warning: The following post is a hotbed of bad metaphor and copious amounts of poorly grounded [angry] opinion.

All right. I'm going to subject you to another rant because that's how I roll.

I'm not making you read this. I just wrote it in hopes for sympathy.

That's my alibi and I'm sticking to it.

Subject of the Rant:

RALPH. WALDO. EMERSON.


I don't know if you know who that is, but he's a Romantic poet who looks like this:

But, honestly, when I look at him, I see this:

(Art copyright to R-Ninja) 

It's not that he's a bad writer or that he doesn't have good things to say, but... I can't take him seriously. 

When I read his works, specifically The Poet, I just sit there and marvel at his ability to not make any coherent sense at all. 

He has a lot of really good maxims and sayings that people can use, but it seems like when he writes he's writing for exactly that purpose. His writing generally goes as thus:

 Awesome Saying fluff fluff fluff fluff Awesome Saying fluffity fluff fluff BAMF Poetic Saying, et cetera. 

There isn't an over arching point to what he's saying.

It's similar to the person who talks just because they like to hear themselves talk- pointless and annoying. 

If you're getting affronted by my hatred of all things Emerson, I'm sorry.

I know I'll never be as famous or renowned as he is, and frankly, I'm all right with that.

Being a hobo was my aspiration in life anyway. 

And tearing people down builds my self esteem. [Taste the Sarcasm.]

Yeah, that's all I got for this one. I seem to run out of steam fairly quickly when I rant.

Probably has something to do with my short term memory and lack of attention span. 

Happy Valentine's Day, you drug addicts. 

Peace Off.