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Fucking fuckers

me:  (out shopping, looking all fly with my Marvel comics tote bag featuring several characters)
dude:  nice bag.
me:  thanks. (keeps on shopping)
dude:  do you even know who all those characters are?
me:  uh... yeah?
dude:  ok then, who's that guy? (points at a character on the bag)
me:  wait, are you asking me to prove that I'm enough of a fan enough to carry this bag?
dude:  (smirks) that's what I thought. He's called the Silver Surfer. I bet you don't even know his real name.
me:  does it matter? (starts to edge away before I start punching throats)
dude:  psh, you're not a real fan.
me:  (slowly unsheathing my Wolverine claws)
me:  how many pairs of chromosomes do humans contain in their cells?
dude:  uh... what?
me:  explain the function of cellular mitosis?
me:  what is the purpose of myelin sheath with regards to the formation of new neural pathways?
dude:  what are you even talking about?
me:  oh, well it seemed that you were implying that if I don't know as much about the Marvel universe as you do, then I can't possibly be considered a real fan. This is me implying that because you don't know as much about the human body as I do, you can't possibly be considered a real human being.
dude:  Um, I... wow. You're right. Have a nice day. (starts to shuffle away)
me:  his name is Norrin Radd.
dude:  (looks extremely embarrassed)



my faith in the world is just a little bit restored

Reminder: Women do not need to be polite to someone who is making them uncomfortable.