I remain Echo and the Bunnymen; therefore, I rule

Some pet peeves from my peevish afternoon at work:

1. Homeric epithets in slash. They have names; use them. The blond, the Texan, the older man? Knock it off.
   
2. People who don't know how to handle an umbrella on the sidewalk. Get a clue.
   
3. Non-scientific polls. People don't vote for that shit with any judgment; they vote for the name that they recognize. They also get their friends to help them stuff the ballot box. We know this—we've all done it. Someone does a whip around and we go and say that yes, there should be monkey sex on Two and a Half Men or whatever. Get over it.
   
4. Ship fights. No one cares anymore. Seriously. And I'm really, really tired of feeling defensive for writing what I write because of your tired ass. Get a grip.
   
5. People who think that having sex means you can write sex, and that bad sex writing is all done by virgins. Why should sex be any different than any other thing a human can do? Good sex writing has more to do with the quality of the writer than their sexual history. Stop being insulting.
   

Six Feet Under was pretty awesome tonight.