Please..PLEASE…Just die in a fiery auto crash.

I’m talking to you, mr bartender with the volume control. Yeah, you.

I know that you’re jaded and couldn’t give much of a shit about whether or not the crap those drunk chicks are playing on the jukebox is worth the baby Jesus’s shit or not. I know you don’t give a fuck about whether it’s music I’d want to listen to or not.
But, for the love of fuck, turn it down.
Seriously, when you can barely hear yourself talking, you need to turn that shit down.
Now, some people might say “well, fuck you, go somewhere else.” And I would say to those people “Go suck a dick.” I believe in a better world…a world where you can have a pint without having to listen to crap music played at levels that allow for comfortable conversations only if you’re screaming at the person next to you. You know what that’s like? It’s like..it’s like the conversational equivalent of getting that hot shit in your jock like in that scene from Revenge of the Nerds. Yes, it’s exactly like that, conversationally speaking.
So, please. Turn the music down or die in a fiery auto crash.

Fuckass.