An Open Letter to That Guy who was Being a Douche at Shaw's

This is probably my angriest entry. That's saying a lot huh?

Dear Douchebag,

I get it. You're shopping. It sucks. And more than that, you're shopping in a particularly crowded store on a particularly busy day. I'd be pissed too. But when I'm pissed, I write a passive aggressive blog about it, and don't let years of suppressed racism come out.

I wouldn't have been too upset (maybe just a little weirded out) if your dickishness had stopped at asking me "Are you going to stamp me?" when I walked by you with the price gun and said "excuse me." But then a manager made an announcement. Yes, that manager had an accent. Did you have to mutter fake spanish gibberish in a mocking tone? I mean, Christ, the message wasn't for you. You didn't have to understand it. But even that was understandable. Here's where you crossed the line from "pretty big dildo" to "biggest dildo I have yet to deal with at Shaw's." Someone walked by you. I bet she said "excuse me" but even if she didn't, a normal person lets that slide. But not you. "Do you even say excuse me?" you asked. "Yes," the woman replied with a slight accent. This added a new level to your behavior because your tone screamed "does your kind even say excuse me."

So, rich white guy shopping at Shaw's, get fucked. Get fucked and die. I know you don't read this blog, but by publishing it, I put it out into the collective unconcious, and hopefully you will get the message. I hope only the worst things for you, you fetid piece of human trash. Fuck you!