Fuck you Gerts. I hate how you have not learned to hire more staff, how you insist on playing the same shitty music night after night. Nobody gives a flying fuck about you once they leave first year. You’ll always be that embarrassing moment in all our McGill careers.
I always hear your patrons singing along to Kendrick Lamar’s Swimming Pools. It’s supposed to be ironic and caution people about the perils of drinking – not become the anthem you half-sing while ordering the blackout special and yelling “shots, shots, shots,” you repetitive fucks. Even getting into Gerts is a pain in the ass: the security guards have all seen Air Force One one too many times, and like to convince themselves that they need to protect Gerts as if the U.S. and Canadian governments are playing a game of beer pong to determine who gets more profits from the Enbridge Pipeline. If that’s not enough, yelling at drunk first-years definitely makes me respect your authority more, because we all know how wild people can get while waiting to get into a bar for some cheap, watery sangria and nineties pop hits.
The only thing Gerts is good for is bumming smokes off the mindless drones who consider it a real bar. Because at least the calming effect of nicotine prevents me from an eruption of Manhattan Project-style anger. This is worth the well-advertised health side effects because at least if I smoke myself into an early grave I will not have to put up with your goddamn bullshit. This, coupled with the smell of beer and puke in the morning when I walk into the SSMU building is not only fucking disgusting but a confirmation of how god damn pathetic you are.
Fuck borders. Fuck the idea that where I’m born dictates where I should die. Fuck chauvinistic patriotism. Why do I owe anything to a place I was arbitrarily placed in? Fuck xenophobia. Fuck citizenship. Fuck nations too. Why can’t I choose my own identity? Fuck pieces of paper that dictate my identity. Fuck pieces of paper that tell me where I can live and where I can’t. Fuck these invisible lines that divide this fucking human species into a million fucking pieces. Fuck the fact that we can’t all remember that we’re all fucking humans and that our fucking place of birth on this planet is of no fucking consequence. Why? Because we’re all born on this fucking Earth. Have you seen this planet from space? There are no fucking lines. So why do we draw the lines? Fuck those lines. Fuck arbitrary adjectives. Fuck nations, fuck nationalism, fuck patriotism. Fuck borders.
Fuck people who are always late. Fuck people who use sorry every other sentence without any meaning or weight behind it. Fuck people who think that their time is worth immeasurably more than my own. And fuck the people who complain about their lives being so fucking busy, as if the rest of us have nothing going on. Or the people who whine about all the goddamn sacrifices they have to make, without stopping for a millisecond to think about everyone around them. Thank fucking god for the people who are busy, and who make sacrifices, but still realize that there are people around them too doing the exact same thing. But seriously, fuck consistent lateness without apologies, because that shit is disrespectful and a waste of everyone’s time.