I’m in kind of a mood for telling the whole world what it can do with itself. Nothing fits, nothing works, and nobody can do anything to correct the problems.
Shipment arrived broken. It’s not the shipper’s fault: contact the courier. It’s not the courier’s fault: contact the shipper.
It’s not my fault that you contracted with a shipping company that hires illegals who favor unpaved back roads to avoid ICE encounters, and my order got beat to HELL as a result.
Nobody speaks English. Oh, it’s my fault I don’t understand a single word you are saying. I have to pantomime and gesture for you to understand because your American dream was to come here and be a burden, to everyone.
Fuck all y’all.
—DG
Inside Doug's Head 