Tolerance Breeds Contempt
I know phrases like "terrorist", and "I'm a", trigger you, so for the rest of this article we'll all just pretend that Comcast executives are the only people who act like 40-year-old boys with a pencil mustache and a windowless van.
What I'm trying to say, of course, is that Comcast makes Tricky Dick look like Jesus when he's pantless and standing in front of Sunday mass, but they really aren't my journalistic arch-enemy. No, the biggest name you're looking for in the book of sinners is Yahoo. Even saying that word out loud makes every female in the area turn inside out. Last time I heard of someone using Yahoo, there were 34 suicides and unaccountable loss in infrastructure.
Yahoo is what happens when Hitler makes a weird sound and draws a V on top of a stick. They thought we wouldn't notice their attempt to be "hip" and "cool" with their top-tier integration of a sub-par e-mail service and click-bait ad-whoring, but it's probably not as bad as it seems to be, right? I mean, the sun's only bad when you look at it.
So, while the entire operating staff of... "Yahoo"... struggles for breath under the same oxygen tank, I think I'll start taking measurements and counting sins. Whatever afterlife these people are going to, I doubt their dark lord will have the time or the patience for that.
eh shoote gun! Topical!
As a person who plays video games myself, I can understand the confusion when trying to wade through the seemingly endless mire of FNaF's playthroughs, Minecraft montages, and nerd rage that compiles the other 35% of YouTube, but could it be, that in our weak, undeveloped, gamer minds, that we appreciate extraordinary feats of human accomplishment instead of droll happenstance?
This is a prime example of Yahoo being run by autistic pigeon bait: they misunderstand video game physics so much that a completely normal and exceedingly average occurrence has taken up about a quarter of front page space that could be reserved for more useful information, such as "How many hotdogs can I put in my asshole before it becomes funny again?", or "'Where the Wild Things Are' was written by gay Nazis?". If you actually paid someone to write this, Yahoo, then I want to to be paid to read it. It's only fair: the same amount of effort would be put in, and you literally spoil the whole point of the article in the hangnail sentence fragment your half-baked potato brain could leak onto the keyboard.
Did anyone check to see if there were, in fact, three shooters?
But I guess the point I'm trying to hammer home is how inconsequential this is. The only winner is the article writer and his subject, I guess, but that's like crowning the pudding at a food-eating competition. On a typical Yahoo slow day, the only article that could be worse than this would be a hooker apologizing to all the twenty dollar bills they've snorted coke off.
Now the poor gamer featured in this article is going to be added to a 4chan blacklist for consulting with you, and I am honestly convinced that the "writers" of these articles is a teenager who's too bored to do their assignment, but not bored enough that they've begun vandalizing.
If I were a teacher and you handed this to me as your extra-credit article for funsies and a smiley face, I wouldn't hesitate to flunk you and reach under my desk for the emergency twelve-gauge, because any minute, those tiny jaws are going to unhinge and a dire bear will be going across my desk. I might as well accept this article as a declaration of war, and in most countries it is.
So, Yahoo, if you'd like to hang out and try adapting to the culture you're reporting on, try hiring someone younger than fifty, or at least sucker some asshole into buying ads for that space so that I and the other person who uses Yahoo can attempt to pity your front page instead of contemplating the evacuation of our current moving vehicle.
Video games are for nerds anyways. Let's get topical.
I wish I could have been sitting next to the unpaid intern who devised this title. I really do, and not to congratulate them on the four seconds it took them to think of a penis allusion to an article about putting things in your mouth, but to see the shit-eating grin of the secretary who "read" his proposal and greenlit the article, too busy wondering why they failed creative writing in high school so many years ago.
If Yahoo ran a porn website, they would still try to write articles, and each one would probably be titled "5 Signs That Vagina Isn't Fish" or "3 Reasons You're Absorbing Erections", because unlike normal entertainers, Yahoo doesn't think they have an audience. In fact, Yahoo is so preoccupied with forgetting to put on a helmet before making their morning coffee that computers are a selective novelty to them. The only use they have for a keyboard is decorating the victor of their cruel interoffice warfare. No one has stepped over the threshold of a Yahoo office in twenty years, and if I wasn't mistaken, I would say the charity responsible for keeping Kim Kardashian's hair one color fucked up somewhere and accidentally sent their money to Yahoo's server farm.
Yes, it's asshole flambe and it goes great with a red wine.
If you write for Yahoo and didn't mean for that title to be a penis joke, then somewhere there is a mother still trying to get you out of her belly with a plunger and chlorine. If you wrote for Yahoo just to collect the paycheck, then I sincerely hope that paycheck can buy a bottle deep enough to help you forget the shame you'll have to carry with you into the next life; no one else will.
P.S. Thanks for making me not want to eat cigarettes anymore.
Employees of Yahoo, when you see a disabled kid on the sidewalk, do you wonder if you can talk to them? Or do you open your laptop and send an e-mail to their doctor wondering if that kid is supposed to have three arms and permanent hiccups?
Or if they're edible?
Either way, last time I saw this, a Beyblade somehow got into the garden and mated with the fruit, so I wouldn't be too worried about its performance. Mutants are gods of the arena.
Oh, you mean this is natural? Well maybe you shouldn't eat it, considering this strawberry is somehow special, unlike the other twelve thousand I have to root through on my trips to the local grocer. Maybe you should give it a bath instead, seeing how your more light-hearted fans are worried over the efficacy of their gardens. Or maybe you're trying to pass off your own seeds as normal human fruit!
Hah! Gig's up, space fuckers! I'm only eating pure, master race fruit from the finest gardens in Southeastern Asia! Maybe then you'll think twice trying to sell me this drivel!
Yahoo, I'm not saying I hate you, but if we were alone in the woods surrounded by a pack of wolves, I would turn and run to get my video camera so I could film a good, clean record of them tearing you to pieces.
Oh, me? No, you don't have to worry, Yahoo. Getting near anything related to your website is the same as hanging out with bees, which is also the reason why this article doubles as a PSA for anyone dating a Yahoo employee. The wolves would be dead before they hit the ground! Either way, it's nice to know I have solid adversaries in the "writing shit on the Internet" industry. The amount of data wasted by Yahoo is thick enough for me to spread on some peanut butter, jelly, and pure adrenaline, because even shit sandwiches deserve some dressing.
I'll be on YouTube reading the comments on race documentaries to cleanse my palate.
Stay classy, Yahoo!
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