Hey Ben, Why Are You Such a Hater?

I have jeopardized friendships and driven home in silence after critiquing the Joker's weak immitation of nihilism and Chrisopher Nolan's inability to escape Adam West style cartoonishness in his second "Dark Knight" film. My first girlfriend cited my inability to indulge her guilty pleasure for the newest N'Sync single in her break up talk. I have been a hater for many years. They have been years of loss and bitterness, but c'mon, who can honestly tell me that a giant "Ka-POW" star would have been out of place when Batman clotheslined and flipped over that semi-truck? Really!

Despite the social costs, and many paradoxical attempts to authentically embrace a post-modern ironic appreciation of pop culture, or a radical buddhist acceptance of subjectivity, or some good ole proletarian anti-intellectualism, I just keep coming back to this fucking hatred. Something about seeing the negative in things is comfortable and easy for me, I guess.

I used to feel bad about this, like that negative thinking produces more negative thinking, and maybe that's true. By that same logic, authenticity must produce more authenticity, and thus my feelings and expressions of love and support for those who deserve it can only grow alongside the unrestrained vitriol I'm spewing at the horrible cultural articfacts which this hateful world relentlessly insists on producing. Bye Bye Bye, Baby!