I’m so fucking offended by everyone being offended all the fucking time. How can you spend so much of your life being angry and offended by flags, words and silly shit like T-shirts and bumper stickers. Motherfucker, I have high blood pressure and if I spent even 1/10th of my time losing my shit on the internet I would have stroked the fuck out by now.
My rights don’t end where your feelings begin confederate flag shirt, hoodie, tank top and v-neck shirt
I’ve said this repeatedly and I say it again: Rights do not end where feelings begin. Calm down, eat a fruit cup, listen to some soft jazz; or, put on some Midget Pounder, violently masturbate to transsexual bondage porn and stuff a cold glass dildo in your ass. Chill out. Seriously, there’s too much cool shit in the world to freak the fuck out all the time. Go to a musem, the beach, listen to some Chopin or muse over what a morbid shit Goya was. Read a fucking book or go barbecue with some friends, get blackout drunk and catch the clap, dick sneeze.
Oddly enough, veterans are among the worst people about this shit — especially peacetime motherfuckers who’ve been out for 20 years and plaster motard shit all over everything while making some feeble attempt to call you a boot while they half drunkenly recall how hard boot camp was in 1991. A crowd that claims to “give zero fucks” whines incessently and loudly every time they see something they don’t like. Fuck that shit — you’re no better than this asshat whining about a Confederate flag; put on some NWA, drink some Colt 45 and go fuck yourself, you anal rententive fuck.