Dear Nihilistic Libertarian Jerkface,
For someone who thinks children are spoiled wastes of human beings, it sure is a bold move for you to work in a toy store. You truly are the paragon of joy and wonder, I can see why it's a total fit.
Oh, it sure is clever of you to turn my self-deprecating jab at myself for being "pompous" into an argument in semantics over the difference between "pompous" and "pretentious" and then insinuate that I didn't know what I was talking about in an effort to perhaps confuse me into abandoning my line of reasoning? I was making small talk about Antonio Banderas. But perhaps you think you're the only person in New York to pass 11th grade English.
But you sure gave me insight into other human beings' behavior! Why, just being around you as you explained to me that no woman in the world can be smart, nice, AND attractive gave me the unique opportunity to watch complete random strangers wince and gaze sympathetically at me as if to issue an apology from their eyes into mine. Even curious onlookers to your self-important rants were made uncomfortable by your know-it-all attitude and incredible disregard for even the most basic of human niceties!
To you, I may be an optimistic Pollyanna, but I'd far rather be that than catch whatever negativity you spread. Because you are like a disease. You have nothing but disdain and anger for those around you, in such staggering degrees as to make even an inordinately cheerful person lose faith in humanity and abandon all hope and turn into the crumpled, dismal, spiteful image of yourself.
You see, you got me thinking. Why is it that someone who hates life, people, art, EVERYTHING as much as you do, and who has such a negative outlook on life in general that it seems almost contrary to your desires to continue to LIVE it, permitted to live in this world of so much beauty, happiness, and simple joys, when so many people before you who have had a much better outlook on a much more dismal state than being young, healthy, attractive and working and living in New York City, are torn from this world by death? Yes, to sum up my ridiculously long run-on sentence, I believe you should kill yourself, or at least allow me the pleasure of alleviating from you the burden of having to continue in a world that annoys you so much.
Not Your Friend Anymore.