Reintroducing: Discussions with an asshole

by Annand Virk

 

You know what? I love your attention. I love it so much that when the new editors at The Plant asked me to write my column again for them every week, it didn’t take that long for me to decide that it was a good idea. I may not be at Dawson anymore, but I’m irreplaceable in the sense that I’m the chillest fucking dude you know.

On that note, people are always approaching me, and often enough they’ll ask: “Are you that guy that writes Confessions With An Asshole? You’re so funny.” 

Now, considering they’re approaching me in person, I’m genuine about their appreciation and I usually say something along the lines of: “Why yes I am. I’m glad you enjoy my work; it’d be nothing without your appreciation.”

And honestly people, it’s true. I really do appreciate the fact that I can spit in your face each week, only to receive praise and promises of sexual gratification in return. However, I really do hate that you all fuck up the title of my column time and time again. Allow me to explain why.

Mistaking “discussions” with “confessions” doesn’t bother me in the sense that it would bother any other writer. You see, an asshole doesn’t have anything to confess, and by calling it Confessions With An Asshole, you’re saying otherwise. I don’t write this column to tell you about all the little dirty deeds I’ve committed and felt bad about. This is Dawson College, not the fucking Vatican. In case you haven’t noticed, I write this column to tell you about how big my chocolate colored dick is. Furthermore, when I decided to call it Discussions With An Asshole, I was hoping to emphasize on the whole “discussions” aspect and the irony of it all. A discussion is an exchange of ideas, which, in turn, is something my column lacks, because I don’t give you the fucking opportunity to fill me in on your useless ideas; I’m an asshole, I’m smart, you’re a bitch, you’re dumb. Why the fuck would I ever want to hear about what you think? Peasant.

Alright, so now that that’s out of the way, I really don’t want you to be discouraged if you ever feel the need to compliment me, especially if you’re a hot girl. In fact, most of the people that have approached me in person have been good-looking girls, which could mean one of two things, while definitely meaning one thing. I’ll let you figure that one out, considering I had a bit of a brain fart at the moment, and I can’t go further with that observation. Point is, you can call Discussions With An Asshole anything but Confessions With An Asshole, because it makes me sound like a pussy.

I still can’t believe so many girls like this column; it’s kind of amazing actually. You’d think that they’d have nothing but contempt for me, because I’m such a prick and all, but they just can’t get enough of this. I think it might have something to do with girls actually being smarter than men. 

You see, women have been conditioned by society to prove themselves to the world, and have become better than men in the process, which in turn, fills me with nothing but admiration for them. I can undermine women all I want, and go on about how useless they are, and how all they’ll do is lie and attempt to control you, but we all know that in the end I would never trust a man to make me a sandwich.

I haven’t felt this alive in over a year, people. I’m definitely looking forward to humiliating all of you throughout the semester. And for those of you that don’t know me: This is Discussions With An Asshole, the best potty humor you’ve ever encountered in a shitty school newspaper.

Get merc’d, all of you. 

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