The art of hate

Say "cheese."

by Dave McAwesome

The topic of late on the ol' forum has been hate. Pure, blinding rage. I enjoy expressing it through words. I enjoy listening to it via Nine Inch Nails. Something, however, was missing. One particular medium has been ignored. Its expressive properties are second to none, I tell you. I speak of macaroni art.

The rotini really brings out his furrowed brow. See the wild linguine hair, tousled by a myriad sleepless nights. His formerly lean ziti face has become fattened by Twinkies and double chocolate fudge ice cream comfort binges. He is a shell of his former self. His once saucy wit has turned starchy and bland. He is bereft of oregano and romano cheese.

This is not a happy plate of pasta. So I ate him.