Hater's gonna Hate

I am a rather small man.

There is a new urban music artist that everyone seems to be clamoring over. People are telling their friends they like him by way of his music. His gregorian chant-like nonmetric hooks drive ladies gaga, for a lack of a more clever term.

I hate Drake.

I don't hate him because he "sucks", though I believe he does, I hate him because I am petty.

Ok, I admit, begrudgingly and through my teeth, that there are some songs that I enjoy that Drake might have created. So you can see now that it is not an issue of creativity or of music, but of a perceived slight.

For someone who gives off the scent of a bitch boy douchefuck, he has a shit ton of money. I resent that with a fierce and irrational emmotion chemically created between my bowels of hate and my jealous mind.

A man who played a cripple on the idiot box's 6th layer of hell (with only Vh1, E! and MTV burning in Dante's 7th) and has the mulatto's worst of both worlds complex, he has all the fame and money I feel is entitled to me.

I know in my heart of hearts that resentment should not lie to the one who manipulates a flawed system to their benefit, which Drake has by aligning his torn ACL with Baby and Wayne, and that I should not cry to the heavens of injustice, but in this case it is just too hard.

I hate the player who is winning in my favorite game. Harrumph.

Maybe I need to get to work. Yes, I think I will do just that.

I'm not as small a man as I once was...