More Self-Help
Lately, there has been quite a few people writing in to Today complaining about the lack of people who give up seats for pregnant ladies. Not a few of those who wrote in have been pregnant ladies. Before I even get started, let me say that I, personally, do give up my seat to pregnant ladies, elderly people, the infirm, people carrying babies and even just couples who want to sit together. Well, actually, for the last one, I'm willing to change seats so they can sit together but not actually give up a seat for them. I say this to forestall any morons telling me I'm an asshole and to fuck off and die and shit like that.

Here's the thing. I do think the world would be a better place if more people were willing to give up their seats to pregnant women. These are charitable acts and should be encouraged in any compassionate society. However, note the use of the word "charitable". You cannot demand charity. You cannot just expect people to give up their fucking seats for you. Apparently, what sparked this chain of letters was an article about some dickhead scolding other passengers on the train for not giving up their seats (or demanding they give up their seats, can't remember which) to his pregnant wife. Ok, I didn't actually read the article, but it was mentioned in one of the letters. Feel free to correct me if I got it wrong, but the message of this post remains the same regardless. Anyway, if I had been there, I'd probably have told him to fuck off and that he shouldn't have knocked up his wife if he couldn't afford a car. Same goes for all the pregnant women who wrote in to complain. Can't handle taking the train because you got fucking knocked up? Don't fucking get knocked up, then.

Seriously, I would definitely give up my seat to a pregnant lady if asked nicely. I mean, if you're asking for charity, the least you could do is ask nicely. Call me an asshole if you will, but it's not my fucking fault you (or your fucking wife) got knocked up. You're in this condition because you fucking brought it upon yourself, so deal with it. The last I looked, it's still not a fucking criminal offence to not be charitable, so fuck you, your foetus and the horse you rode in on.

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Life is sometimes a trifle scary for lesser mortals such as you, the humble reader. This is mainly due to the fact that, more often than not, you lack the necessary intelligence to see where your life is going. Well, fear not, humble readers. Here at I Rock, You Suck, we are always greatly concerned about your psychological welfares, as can be seen from the self-help articles I have written in the past. Now that I've written all these wonderful articles telling you how to get through your life, I shall also rid you of the remaining uncertainty in your life by telling you what you little fuckers can expect in future. Yes, I have gazed into my crystal ball, and this is what I have seen in your futures.

Without any further ado, I Rock, You Suck proudly presents the Headcount's Life Itinerary. If you have been dilligently following the advice I laid out in the articles I've kindly linked for you above, this is what's going to happen in your futures.

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Headcount's Life Itinerary

0-6:
This is the best time of your lives. You have nothing to do except eat, shit, play and sleep. Your parents dote on you, your relatives shower you with affection because you're so fucking cute while you annoy the fucking shit out of everyone else not related to you. Treasure these golden years, my friends fellow humans readers, because it only gets worse after this.

7-12:
Give or take a year or two, these are the years you spend in elementary/primary school. Here, you first encounter the concept of work. These years are usually still rather enjoyable. Your parents still dote on you, and homework is disgustingly simple. The less fortunate among you suffer from some physical shortcomings, such as being fat or looking weird, and you hence become misfits and get picked on at school by the fucking jocks. Fear not, they will get their just desserts in the future. Sadly, though, you will not be rewarded for your endurance of the circumstances.

13-18 (misfit):
Ah, secondary education. You're starting to realise that life is not the bed of roses those kiddy storybooks led you to believe it is. Your parents get divorced, you get depressed, your grades start to suffer. Worse than that, that fucking jock from years back has come to your school and is still picking on you. You have your first crushes, but watch in despair as your crush openly makes out with the jock who torments you. You plot revenge, dismembering them both in your daydreams, but lack the fucking balls to enact your sick fantasies, you fucking loser. You become a sad, twisted, misbegotten little creature who skulks in the shadows watching other people feast from the banquet of life while you play Dungeons & Dragons or Magic: The Gathering with people, if such you can be called, just as sad as you are. At least your grades pick up after a while due to your lack of a social life.

13-18 (jock):
You are the god of your school, and you mix well with the other muscular and good-looking dumb fucks. Your grades suck, but who cares, because you're getting laid. All you have to do is grunt and flex your muscles or giggle and shake your booty and vapid little bitches of both sexes flock to you like dung beetles to bullshit. If you're female, you get an abortion, while if you're male, you get to fork out for one. You get a venereal disease.

19 (misfit):
You freak out when your 18-year-old sister gets VD from/pregnant by the jock who bullied you in secondary school and spend a year in an asylum.

20-22 (misfit):
You go to college. You start to enjoy life, because here, people are more concerned with your brains than with how you look. Curiously, because you're happier now, you start to look better too. You take part in school activities and shit like that, and maybe experiment a little with drugs, but not much, because you've always been a fucking coward who lacks the courage to take things too far. You think you've finally found the light at the end of the tunnel.

You naive fucker. This is actually the calm before the storm, or the moment just before the pain sets in after someone has kicked you in the balls.

23-? (misfit):
You've made it! You graduate from college and enter the rat race, and being a naive young fucktard, you think you're ready to conquer the world. You work hard for a couple of years, but your girlfriend leaves you for your boss. You realise in your 30s that your life is going nowhere. You leave your job to start your own business, but lose your life savings because of your stupidity. You go back to the same sort of job, but with lower pay. In your late 40s, some pimply-faced punk fresh from college takes your job. You end up bagging groceries for your boss in a departmental store or pumping gas for him in some petrol kiosk.

You die alone.

19-? (jock):
You did not make it to college. You get a headstart on your misfit counterpart in the pumping gas/bagging groceries part of life. In fact, for a few years, you probably have to put up with the misfits' sneers as you pump their gas and bag their groceries.

You die alone.

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There you go, people. This is your life. I bet the Way Of Eventual Suicide is starting to look damned appealing now, eh?  ¶
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