Alright cunts!
The weather's good, the beer's cold and I've got fuck all to do. So why aren't I fucking bored like I am normally?
The answer is simple!
I spent yesterday in the company of a mate who can only be described as the eternal optimist - that is until he has been described as the eternal optimist and then, and only then, can I describe him as a fucking prat for being such! I mean, optimism has it's place - which is normally in a darkish, candle-lit corner far, far away from me - and since it is also highly contagious and can spread without warning, I think that place should be isolated from the rest of us normal folk who just want to get on with being pissed off. And especially if the optimist in question is also buggering happy - now that is just plain old taking the piss. And I won't stand for it!
And now as a consequence of all his bloody happiness and optimism I have been forced to take dramatic action and to ban any such sentiments forthwith from my highly depressed and pissed off inner circle.
I can honestly say that I have never suffered from optimism, and I thank my unlucky stars for that. The dictionary defines optimism as: a disposition to take a bright, hopeful view of things, and I am anything but fucking bright and hopeful, and furthermore I would suggest my fine fuckers, that I am more of a tarnished and resentful man than a fucking bright and hopeful one! But that aside, the thing with optimists that really pisses me off is all that fucking unnecessary happiness. And for what?
I'll tell you for what....... to fucking piss me off, that's for what! Fucking optimistic cunts! Line 'em up, shoot the fuckers and then say, 'show me the bright side of that ya cunts!' and see how many of them stick to their principles!
But, being the reasonable, affable fella that I am and that you all know so well, I wouldn't wish to persecute someone for what is after all a treatable condition. The facts themselves are so blindingly obvious that I'm surprised more put upon depressives haven't stumbled on to them before. Optimism is a disease, and I've discovered the perfect cure, the killer anti-dote to counteract the harsh, debilitating effects of this cruel and fucking annoying (for me anyway) disease that can afflict anyone of us at anytime.
Let's take it one step at a time, and for all you fucking slow-coaches out there who need to check the bleeding 'dicko' every time a word with more than 4 letters appears, here's one to confuse you even more - pentadelphous!
Alright, whilst the fucking dim-witters are struggling with that word, the rest of us can move on. Here are the basic facts.
Optimists are: happy, forward-thinking, positive people who tend to smile a lot and piss the rest of us off. A lot! It's not their fault understand, but these are the facts as they stand.
The etiology of the disease can be varied, but in the main the first symptoms of optimism can be spotted in any individual who smiles a lot - always a bad sign, but one that can be rectified with the proper course of treatment!
Classic symptoms range from 'a sunny disposition' to 'raging positivity' and anywhere in between. It is however, true to say that in some cases the symptoms can be ephemeral and hence, not so fucking annoying as those exhibited by the most dangerous sub-type, the eternal optimist. And in my world dealing with eternal optimists goes like this..........
Pour cold water on whatever the happy fuckers suggest. If you are unsure how to do this and you too have an annoying optimist who needs to be brought down a peg or three please read the following examples and then adapt your responses accordingly.
As a matter of course don't worry about upsetting the optimist; this cannot happen. The cunts are just too fucking happy by half and taking the piss out of the bugger for a time makes your life seem a whole lot better and their life .........well, their life? ......who gives a fuck?..... they'll probably be happy again by the time the sun rises on the morrow, and that is perhaps the most annoyingly arse-splitting thing about them. Even when their poor little delicate little hearts are breaking (and we're laughing like hyenas in the background) they still fucking smile. The cunts!
Don't they just deserve all the fucking hassle you can heap on them? Exacta-mundo!!!
So....here we go.....
e.g.1. Optimist: "What a lovely day!"
Realist: "Fuck off ya cunt! Oh look, someone's slashed your tyres! What low life mother-fucker did that?"
e.g.2. Optimist: "I feel great today!"
Realist: "Well, you look like shit! How d'ya feel now?"
e.g.3. Optimist: "Hey, that beautiful girl is giving me the eye!"
Realist: "Give it the fuck back then. And in future, stay away from those one-eyed birds, ya cunt!"
e.g.4. Optimist: "Isn't life wonderful?"
Realist: "Fuck off ya cunt! Oh dear, who's that with his tongue down your missus' throat?"
e.g.5. Optimist: "Ah well, tomorrow's another day!"
Realist: "Not for you ya cunt," and push the fucker under the nearest bus.
If they're still unreasonably happy after you've shat all over their jollies, then they deserve all the extra crap you can throw at them.
But I should warn you fuckers, because I know you'll want to go over the top, if the optimist is a friend (and I use that term loosely) or (heaven forbid) a partner, who for whatever reason you won't pitch into night whilst they're wearing just their skiddies, that de-optimising an optimist means taking the opportune moment and becoming the opportunistic de-optimiser imposing opposing options and oppressing their opprobrious behaviour in order to obviate the obvious opulence in what is, after all, an obscure and not at all obverse line of illogical, and not in any way, shape or form, a normalised odium. Are you with me, Stan?
If not, then don't fret ........if your optimist does happen to get a bit fucking tearful, then (and only after you've dried the tears of laughter from your own face) just walk away and leave the fucker to it! They'll bounce back! The cunts! And if they don't ....well, then you've got someone else to get fucking bored with!
Here endeth the lesson.
Laters cunts!
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