Well I am a day late.
And a million dollars short.
Fuck that guy is meant to happen on Mondays but lots of things are meant to happen and don't.
Like me being a princess.
Or a warrior.
Or a warrior princess.
Fuck that guy will be a little more difficult for me this time around, I will tell you why.
The guy I am going to talk shit about it pretty awesome.
He is a revolutionary, a good soul, a legit master of his own destiny, a wise one.
Then again, Fuck him.
Who, you ask?
Mr. Henry David Thoreau.
Lets just start with the fact that his name isn't even Henry, he just invented that shit so he could sound smarter by having three names.
Its a nerd thing.
Also, apparently you're supposed to pronounce Thoreau like it rhymes with furrow.
Which is annoying because I hate the word furrow.
Names aside, HD's family ran pencil factories for a living.
How fucking retarded of a mental picture is that?
Dude turned the world upside down with his essays and morals and all that...he wrote fucking WALDEN for the love of Christ.
But he grew old, got weird, and went right back to pushing pencils.
One of the greatest quotes of all time... "As if you could kill time without injuring eternity..."
How to you fall off after that?
He managed to, believe it.
He also has one of those weird heads sort of like Edgar Allen Poe.
Literal egg heads.
I think I have issues with hating people for their hairstyles alone.
What the fuck is that about?
He looks like Abe Lincoln, if Abe Lincoln was a total pantywaist bitchboy.
People who look inherently sad make my fists itch with fury.
Does he not look like a guy you would love to throw a pie at?
Or crack on the side of the head with a beer bottle?
He would definitely cry and proclaim that it the ignorant and philistine ways of the common man (or woman) to want to destroy beautiful things.
Like his gentle nature loving babyface.
Speaking of nature, fuck him for being one of those evolved people who is like, "I don't need running water or artificial light. I live in this ice box in the woods and write epic books about it"
I think we can all assume dude smelled straight bovine after living there a few months.
Why would you do that?
I get it, it was quite the trend amongst the stars of the literary world at the time.
It was about enlightenment, and loving the fucking birds and the tress and the dirt.
But I don't like any of that shit really, so does that make me a worse writer?
Yes, yes in fact it does and I am jealous.
So fuck him for bringing that emotion out in me.
How fucked up is it that he "loved" the same girl as his brother?
His own blood proposes to a woman, she says no, and HD goes for sloppy seconds.
He tries to weasel in, writing her a letter about how he wants to marry her too.
Its also speculated that he was a total fairy because apparently he wasn't having any sex.
That is very easy to laugh about.
And yes, I use words like fairy because I am an insensitive bitch.
I also have a very hard time enjoying the company of effeminate men. They make me want to claw my own eyeballs out.
Let me get to what I hate most about HD.
He died when he was 44 right?
Fine, that sucks, its sad.
How did he die you want to know.
What tragedy struck?
I'll tell you if you promise not to throw up at how annoying it is.
He went out.
Into the woods.
In cold cold weather.
To do something VERY VERY important.
TO COUNT TREE RINGS.
The guy gets a gnarly cold and dies from TB.
I actually am not even sure how to make a joke about that.
You can hate me if you want for picking on an angel.
He was part of the underground railroad for fucksake.
Hes great hes a better person than me.
And yes, fuck him.
For that especially.