It’s been enjoyable over the last couple of weeks to have a myriad of topics suggested to me by followers of bankingcommish. It’s clear from some of these suggestions that I’m not alone. Considering I have to think of 180-odd things to blog about in the next 180 days, I will continue to welcome suggestions with open arms like Steve Randell at an adventure playground.  If I end up serving purely as a conduit for you all to express your dissatisfaction, so be it. Coincidentally, I hear that Steve likes his boys how he takes his whiskey; 12 years old and messed up on ice…

I also welcome discussion in the forum itself – it all adds to the laugh. By the by, I’m up to 800 clams in donations for this exercise in futility. If you’re getting as much of a laugh out of reading it as I am writing what basically equates to a protracted series of individual and group character assassinations, please pledge a donation. I’m like the Hillsong Church (all denominations accepted: 5s, 10s, 20s etc.)

Fixie bikes – bikes with no brakes and no gears, generally in a variety of uber-trendy colours, ridden almost exclusively by courier-bag sporting hipster douchebag fucks that have a tendency to list books by Kafka, Nietzsche, Hawking et. al. as their favourites on their Facebook pages despite only having gotten half-way through the first chapter of any of them before being mentally strangulated by the verbosity of the writing and giving up in much the same fashion as they capitulated on that Arts degree they were studying via correspondence at OpenUni, which, coincidentally, allowed them to make overpriced, burnt-as-fuck lattes at Starbucks full time, ironically the exact type of corporation that these types vehemently oppose in public forums (like on weekends when they’re in records stores buying vintage vinyl classics despite not owning a record player… cunts).

That was the longest sentence ever.

These are the same types of slugs that spend thousands of dollars on vintage clothing to cultivate a ‘look’ that could only be described as ‘vintage, homeless, dumpster-diving, will-fuck-for-cash chic’. They’ll tell you that they ride fixies, ‘because life is so complicated already, man, and I like only like need a simple bike to get me places, man… why do you need gears man? It’s so unnecessary. Just enjoy the ride, man.’

Of course, these are the same people that save up their shekels to buy hyper-powerful $4000 MacBook Pros and then use them exclusively to trawl food blogs, follow Sam Simmons on Twitter, update their shitty bands’ Facebook profile and upload photos of themselves having ‘new-school fun with a vintage feel’. Sure, they may have originally bought the thing intending to enrol in the mid-year intake of a graphic design degree or something similarly appealing to these types, but the fact remains that every time they open up that metallic clamshell, they are nailing yet another mass-produced carpentry nail in their own ‘individual, just like the rest of them’ hipster douche coffins.

Anyway, I wrote this in 10 minutes after work because I want to go and get pissed. Fuck off.

/end communication