Have you noticed that the more you hate on someone, the more reasons you find to hate them? I know this sounds obvious, but bear with me. Of course it's a slippery slope from casual hatred to the sheer concentrated hatred of a thousand suns, but the hatee only makes it easier as time passes. It's as though they know how my black soul feeds on hate, and when faced with decisions, they consistently chose the option that leads to the greatest amount of hate. This is unquestionable proof that God loves me and wants me to be happy.
This and beer.
This and beer and Paul Smith.
This and beer and Paul Smith and shoes in general.
Ok, there is lots of proof that God loves me and wants me to be happy, but this gift of hate is definitely number one right now.