PATHETIC LOOSERS.

Last night a slimy, worthless, nerdy, dweebish video-gamer-asshole badgered me at the camera counter. He demanded I tell him the truth because he insisted our scanner kiosk showed several units of a certain hot item in back-stock. Officially, we are to tell the public we have none, because that particular item is waiting to be put out for the ad circular, which breaks tomorrow at 8 a.m.

I looked this pathetic moron looser up and down. He laughed at me through his yellowish brown, crooked, cavity infested teeth, with a smirk that etched deep creases in the oily, greasy, three day old beard stubble on his pimple forrested face.

I told the video-gamer-asshole that such information is proprietary, and we reserve the right to not discuss our back room contents with guests, regardless of what the kiosk scanner may say. The videogame-addict-troll-weasel continued to call me a liar and give me flack. I told the man (I mean, "thing") that I was perfectly willing to call security if my answer did not satisfy him. He stalked off in a huff, whining to everyone within earshot that I threatened him.

While these morons are obsessing over hunks of metal and plastic that manipulate the endorphines in their brains, I go home every night to spend quality time with a family that I dearly love. While video-gamer-assholes are getting their fetish-laden jollies out of pressing plastic buttons over and over, I'm reading Shakespeare, Plato, and Robespierre in my easy chair by the fire.

I only regret that the English language lacks enough words to adequately describe the total revulsion which hysterical video game fans invoke deep in the recesses of my bowels. Some words come close, such as "troll," "gollum," "phlegm," "bile," "worm," "psycho," "sleeze-bag," "pustule," and the like. I have far greater love and sympathy for cocaine addicts than I do for video-gamer-assholes who go hysterical over a certain gaming product that is in short supply.