Some things in life serve only to induce rage. No matter how small these annoyances may be, they are never insignificant. 'Rant List' is the chronicle of one self-loathing narcissist's seemingly unending pettiness.

Sunday, 20 February 2011

49. Pseudo-intellectuals

^ Okay, this made me giggle heartily. From here.

Ooh, look at me. I'm so intellectual because I've been reading all this avant-garde literature you've never heard of, like Chekov and Sartre. I've also read Joyce's Ulysses. I read it whilst listening to nothing but Rachmaninov pieces and the sound of my own ego inflating.

Earlier today, I went to sit in Starbucks with my personally assembled collection of T.S. Eliot poems and gave all those idiotic, caffeine-absorbing numb-skulls a chance to view what they could be if only they challenged themselves. I didn't even buy a coffee, I was too busy doing a public service! Then, I followed it up by giving a talk on how political I am to a group of politicised youths who are currently occupying a political building for political reasons. Now, excuse me as I have to return to my ironically dilapidated flat, sup wine and write a brilliant novel by candlelight. With a quill. On a scroll.


I hope you spill the wine, knock the candle over and burn your house down. Yeah.

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