YTAH's Weblog

All My Friends Are Cunts

Posted in humour,rants by YTAH on February 26, 2008
Tags: , , ,

I hate a lot of people. Most of them, actually. Tourists and teenagers who walk slowly in malls. Old farts who drive in front of me on the highway. Anyone who asks me for money (and that includes all the bergies in Obs and the corridors of Parliament). You, dear reader, whom I have never met; I despise you as much as I do the next man. I detest the fact that I am forced to write for an uninformed, vulgar collection of scum whose only advantage is that I don’t physically have to interact with you. Yes, lesser mortals have described me as a misanthropist; I like to think of myself as an embodiment of the democratic ideal, the right to hate everybody equally and without prejudice. And yet there is one group of people for whom I harbour a special loathing: my friends. I hate them more than my family. I hate them more than my boss. I hate them more than my job. That’s because all my friends are cunts.

You, dear reader, are a cunt. Don’t get me wrong: I want you to continue reading, because you may find it edifying. You may even find some barely significant way in which you can begin to mitigate your pathetic excuse for an existence. No, dear reader, you I can tolerate because I don’t need to. At least I don’t have to see you every day – after all, out of sight is out of mind. I never have to meet you face to face, or remember your name, or distinguish between the lot of you in any way. I am not reliant on you to have someone to go drinking with – not that I can’t drink alone, say, in the comfort and privacy of my own home. I don’t need to greet you at work, in the street, or invite you into my home. If you showed up at my doorstep, I’d greet you with a shotgun. That’s just how we treat beggars where I come from.

Familiarity breeds contempt, and my contempt could kill you. “Stay out of my way” says the expression on my face, the sign on my gate, and the Uzi on my hip. You are not welcome, do not come in, do not make yourself at home, because I do not like you. Come within range and I shall release my vitriol upon you. Get out of my sight and go back to the cesspool from whence you came. The best housewarming present you could give me is to cover yourself in oil and set yourself on fire, and then go drown yourself in a deep shit-filled well.

You, however, I merely despise; my friends I detest. My feelings for you, dear reader, are to my feelings for my friends as butterflies are to tornadoes: only very vaguely related, and it would take scientists decades to discover a connection. Yes, I despise you, dear reader; but no word has yet been found for my feelings towards my friends.

You see, I tend to spend a great deal of time with these people. Those whom I allow into my presence for extended periods of time tend, in my view, to be worthy of study – if not for their own merits, then at least for the purposes of better understanding how I am superior to them in every way. I wish to know them, dear reader, so that the mystery of their existence can open itself to my mind as a butterfly does in the eye of a storm. It is for this purpose, I tell myself, that we go drinking together, why we share lifts to work, why we argue late into the night and then storm off in anger, only to return the next day as if the other hadn’t revealed their own intolerable worthlessness to us. And it is through prolonged trial and error, through dedicated and systematic enquiry, through “long hard nights of drinking” as the poet says, that I have come to the conclusion that all my friends are cunts. After all, that is why I like them.

A group of like-minded friends off to murder a vagrant.

I find on reflection that I have surrounded myself with people who, like myself, are miserablist, angry, misanthropic bastards – and I mean that in the best possible way. As someone who hates humanity generally and you in particular, the only people I can bear to be around for long enough to engage in conversation without brutally assaulting them are those who, like me, loathe the entire species they are forced to intermingle with. It is regrettable that thus far it has proven impossible to find a way to feed and clothe ourselves without resorting to “productive employment”, since that is where I have found most of the people I surround myself with every evening when I go home, once I have shaken the dust from my proverbial sandals and trudged home in despair after an entire day of politely not massacring people.

It is to these fine people that I return to for companionship, time and time again, like a dog to its vomit. They are despicable human beings, two-legged vermin worthy of nothing but contempt; and yet I find myself in their company, every weekday and most weekends, lamenting with like-minded beings the pathetic state of the universe and the absolute pointlessness of attempting to improve it. I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Yours truly, asshole.

[Originally posted on, Tuesday, January 29, 2008.]


2 Responses to 'All My Friends Are Cunts'

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  1. Lieutenant Vasili said,

    Plato once said that “Wise men speak because they have something to say; Fools because they have to say something.”

    You decide which one applies to this post. The best way to describe this YTAH character is that he’s a self-made man who worships his creator (John Bright).

  2. Lieutenant Vasily said,

    PS. The picture in this case is thanks to pinvictor. You can check out his writing (and the original posts of these stories) at

    Feel free to contribute, as long as you don’t write shit.

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