Thanks John Mayer, thanks

I think I’m warming up to John Mayer a bit. Actually I’ve been warming up to a lot of things and morons and enemies I can't stand in the recent weeks. I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with me, I’m worried for my hateability.

I didn’t try to like John Mayer. I have not been trying to like anybody I presumably hate. Some acoustic album of his was playing on repeat at a party I was working at. If I didn’t hear cheers from half the people there that John Mayer was on, I probably would have asked somebody who it was with the intention of getting the album. I’m embarrassed for myself. It helped John Mayer’s case that his lyrics and voice were fuzzed out by the party atmosphere and that he was sandwiched between the beloved Hall & Oates and Van Halen and Journey and Whitney Houston. So I was already buttered up. He also had one on there with Eric Clapton or some legend. He’s really been stacking himself up against me.

All I have to say is, FUCK YOU John Mayer, FUCK YOU. I’m not giving up. I’m not surrendering to your douchedom. Even if it means I have to make excuses to hate your music. Even if it means I have to hear your high pitched voice of a queef over your guitar riffs that are lukewarm with seduction. Even if it means I have to hate myself in order to hate you, I’ll do it. I’ll hear your voice as a high pitched queef and I’ll repeat the mantra, Fuck you John Mayer, fuck you until the day I murder myself because your voice comes on during a lovemaking session.