The Hate Parade exists only because my therapist says I need some sort of mental release, something to help vent the anger that will eventually boil my blood and force my heart to tap-out in melodramatic fashion. Meditation is stupid and acquiring a new hobby is too time-consuming. And since using a chair leg to destroy my computer monitor or torching my desk with gasoline and a Zippo lighter are not viable options, well, here you go, you jerks.
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