Lesson #1 - Angst Isn't Hatred
Don't confuse hatred with angst. Angst is for pussies going through moodswings, parental divorce, and puberty. That kind of hatred is blind; when kids get fussy, they'll hate just about anything. For no reason at all, even. That's a perfectly good waste of hatred that can be channeled into other problems in the world, like religion, communism, or TV Dinners.
As one gets older, he learns to distinguish between particular emotions, primarily ones that aren't hate. When one learns to sort out those feelings and begins to understand and become disgusted with the flawed nature of the human condition. You won't notice when the shift happens, either; one day you're pouting at the dinner table not wanting to eat your peas because they're icky, the next you'll be taking a violent shit in the bathroom, legs braced against the wall while you apply the death grip to the nearest graspable object, cursing God's existence for making you allergic to beets despite the fact that they're so delicious. What? They are. Fuck you, you kids don't know what you're talking about.
I can't tell you how to cross that threshhold, but when you do, you'll learn to hate things properly with the embittered disgust that only an awful excuse of an adult would know about. Learning what hatred is ends up being a proper step forward in the delightful act of judging people.
Lesson #2 - Find A Place Or Location To Channel Your Hatred
Okay, so you know how to hate people and the terrible shit they do. Now all you need is a place to do it. This is in fact very important; one will basically learn to associate terrible shittiness with a location, and that ends up becoming a breeding ground of your righteous malice towards society. Of course you can have more than one place to choose from, but sometimes keeping that hatred confined to a single location is better for your health.
The bathroom is a fantastic place to reflect on the things you hate in life. It could be that particular food giving you the runs. Or it could be where the only mirror in the house is, and you look into it, picking apart your disgusting appearance of a fat, zit-cover manchild where the only place above your shoulders that'll grow hair is your neck. Or the filing cabinet, where you see all the medications in your house and you begin to realize you're nothing more than a sedated hambeast who's in a constant state of mind-numbing euphoria because whenever the pills wear off you realize how emotionally dead you are. Or when you're jerking off on the toilet and after that mediocre climax you realize you're in your bathroom alone for the fourth time that day and no woman will ever touch you.
Another example would be a place of social gathering, like a school, a mall, the internet, or a Planned Parenthood seminar. Whatever place that's easier for you to dole out scathing judgmental glances as the herds of cattle roaming through the streets. I personally like Planned Parenthood since any hatred-induced suicides you cause will have twice the effect with only half the effort.
Lesson #3 - Learn To Wield And Articulate Your Hatred As A Weapon
Balling up hatred and just letting it fester in your bowels will get you nowhere. You want to unleash it on people and destroy their self-esteem for being idiots in the first place. Your hatred is in fact a powerful weapon to fix the blunders of society. This is another reason how we can separate angst from hatred; angst is never acted upon, mainly because teenagers are lazy worthless fucks who feel like they're powerless in any situation.
My particular moments of hatred come when I'm stranded on the shitter and the only thing to read while I'm making a deposit at the bank happens to be whatever my family left in there. Like novels. Romance novels. The most contrived pieces of bullshit literature that I've ever had the patience to skim through. Completely idealistic crap where it's some flamboyant he-man and the gorgeous swan who's downtrodden by society, and when they fall in love the woman ends up becoming empowered or some shit. There's some sinister villain pulling the strings and intending to keep them apart, but love conquers all and they live happily ever after, forever and ever and ever. ......I've yet to see a single realistic Romance novel written. And by "realistic" I mean something like the male protagonist was out drinking all night and he wakes up hungover in a Denny's. He's completely out of it until he sees the cute waitress, and ends up makes a glorious first impression by throwing up in front of her. Then it's a series of events watching the soulless husk of a man wander through his shitty life with his shitty friends until he finally makes a move on her, and then they're together and happy for a while before the inevitable divorce and bitter loneliness that follows until he finally drowns his children and offs himself.
Just kidding; he doesn't have custody over the children because he's the father.
How is this problem solved? Simple; I just start writing my own stories where terrible shit happens to couples. Granted it won't ever get published because barren loveless housewives won't want to be reminded how vacant their romantic lives are, at least I can take solace in the fact that it's out there.
Another thing that reminds me how much people are shit while I'm on the toilet are tabloids. They're completely ridiculous. You're talking about dirt dug up on "famous" people. Just because you learn that Morgan Freeman shops at Luckys or Lindsay Lohan's a slut doesn't mean that your God or Goddess is somehow just a bit more human because he or she does things you do. What a crock of shit; the only thing different about these people are their paychecks. And that they have a bunch of lunatics with a little too much time on their hands following them around with cameras. How fucking dull and utterly depraved does your social life have to be to listening to gossip about rich people you don't even know? IT DOESN'T MAKE ANY FUCKING SENSE.
If they were people you knew, people who lived in your neighborhood, then absolutely. Because then fucking with people you know and interact with on a semi-frequent basis becomes relevant to your life. You could abuse the information like that slut Jesse who lives next store sucked off twenty guys in three weeks. You could learn that Jimmy Walters wasn't on vacation, and actually got tried and acquitted for child molestation, and you won't ask him to babysit again. Or you can read about that scrawny ugly nerd in the neighborhood who might be responsible for the strings of arson in the city.
But at the same time I can't bring myself to completely disregard tabloids because of the very concept of them is anchored in hatred. To read up on people and judge them for every minuscule mistake and blunder they have in their lives; what? Do YOU read them to hear heartwarming stories about their lives? FUCK NO. We read them to mock and laugh and judge. They are in fact a necessary evil in society, if only they could choose better targets.
Congratulations! You're A Certified Misanthrope!
If you've done all the necessary steps above, then I welcome you to adulthood, where you learn that everything in life is terrible, and the only reason that certain parts of it aren't are because you haven't looked hard enough at it it. Ignorance is bliss, but do you want to be an ignoramus? Hell no you don't. That bliss will be gone eventually, so best get used to it now. You'll soon learn to take joy in life again by manifesting your hatred into violent crimes and misguided recreation.
That's it for today's lesson. I have to leave tonight because I moonlight as a back-alley abortionist outside of Planned Parenthood, where I end up raping and impregnating my customers after the procedure so I can teach them that life has no easy ways out.
IT'S A SOCIAL SERVICE, SHUT UP.
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