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Everyone has those days when we pull back the slot machine lever of life, and everything comes up dick. It's one thing to have a moment, an hour, or even a day of doing shitty, inconsiderate things, but there's a point when the everyday bad thing you're doing veers off course and into banal evil. You're no Hitler, but fuck you all the same for giving a bad name to the common forms of shitty behavior a lot of us occasionally indulge in.

They are rage-inducing and, often times, deserving of a swift kick to whatever portion of the skull that fires up the dick-move green light, but there are ways those cretinous scumbags out there can mask their inherent everyday dickishness. Let me explain by telling these horrid pig people how to mask the stink of ...

Slow-Moving Jaywalkers


There are too many videos on the Internet of people jaywalking with a carefree attitude -- only to get turned into red vapor by an oncoming car they didn't see. And I get the idea behind it: It's a small "I got this" moment of everyday life. I may be a spineless pussy for 23 hours, 59 minutes and 55 seconds of the day, but for the 5 seconds it takes to jaywalk across a street, I'm the type of brave soul people expect to hear an inspiring speech from, just before we fight an alien armada.

The unspoken contractual agreement drivers sign with jaywalkers the second they step onto the road goes like this: I, the "Driver," hereby allow you, the "Jaywalker," to cross the street illegally, in front of my two-ton death machine without fear of harm under the strict provision that you, the Jaywalker, move your ass with lightning speed or risk being forcefully reduced to a state of ooze.

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"It's a damn shame. Didn't he know cars are solid?"

If I allow you to jaywalk in front of my car, I am extending a courtesy. Don't abuse it by slowly making your way across the road like I have to bend to your will. When that happens, the jaywalker is using my fear of killing someone against me. They think they have all of the leverage. So, when I honk at a slow-moving jaywalker, they get mad at me. I am extending the courtesy of not making you perform a series of very fast backflips against your will, and you get mad at me for honking? Yeah, sure. OK. I'm the asshole. You're absolutely right.

The Solution:

If you're going to be a blatant dick about jaywalking, just turn the whole thing into a spontaneous gambling ring in which drivers waiting at lights place bets on how many flips oncoming cars will make your limp, rag-doll body do after being hit. It'll be like roulette, and you're the wheel.

No, seriously. If I have the opportunity to rake in some extra cash at your expense, I'm totally fine with you holding up my commute because you couldn't be bothered to walk the extra 20 feet to the crosswalk. I'm sure that everyone else watching your mortal meat-sack flop through the air will agree. Sure, the jaywalking move itself is full of dicks, but you've now supplied us with entertainment and cold, hard cash. Trust me, it won't be too hard for us to forgive you at that point.

Not Picking Up Your Dog's Turds

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Animals are unpredictable and fickle. This is particularly true of a shitting dog. In order to take a shit, a dog needs to sniff miles of dirt before it settles on the patch that fulfills whatever ludicrous set of criteria it has in its head. The owner has so little control over where the dog decides to poop that it's hard to blame him or her.

Though, sometimes, a dog will shit in a spot the owner knows goddamn well has a lot of foot traffic. The dog doesn't understand the harsh impact its butthole has on a new pair of Jordans. All the dog cares about is if the spot checks off every item on its "Perfect Place To Shit" list, of which I'm sure "Is Ground" is at the top and is nonnegotiable. That means it's entirely up to the owner to decide if the spot the dog has chosen is safe.

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To shit on the sky -- a dog can only dream of it.

All it requires is the answering of one question: Do people walk here a lot? It doesn't matter if the owner is in a different city or a new neighborhood, or suffered a tragic accident and has mentally reverted back to the IQ he or she had as a zygote -- the owner knows exactly where feet can most often be found when they walk. When owners see their dog assuming that unnerving, vulnerable shitting-dog position, they should move mountains and push aside the sky and bend the natural forces of the universe to prevent even a morsel of turd from touching the ground. Or not. They can just yank the chain, say "No!" and lead the dog over to a place that is less likely to become a leading cause of spontaneous public cursing.

The Solution:

Be creative, and dab a swirl of shit with a little cherry and a generous sprinkling of nuts to top off that disgusting but awfully plain froyo you and your dog have decided to leave to your neighbors as a gift. You don't even have to touch it. You could drizzle some rainbow sprinkles from a few feet above, and we'll all know what to avoid, and we won't be as grossed out because everybody likes being reminded froyo is a thing.

Why are you looking at me like I'm being sarcastic? My advice is 100 percent genuine. Think about it: Little girls will squeal with delight over the pretty decorations you've left them. Hand in hand, star-crossed lovers will stop and marvel at life's perfect reflection of their love. Gathering flies will never again experience the level of joy that you just provided them. You and your dog have just made the world a better place, and you should be proud of that.

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Peeing On A Toilet Seat

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The fear of lifting a sketchy toilet seat mixes with man's pee-aiming hubris, resulting in toilet seats drenched with piss. It's a very chicken-and-the-egg scenario. A guy could be the first pisser of the day after the toilet has been thoroughly scrubbed to an antiseptic shine, and, still, he will leave the seat down and get about 40 percent of the urine everywhere other than the toilet water. As I understand it, women's bathrooms also suffer from seats dotted with pee, which makes less sense. Are women doing Van Damme splits over the toilets and thumbing their pee spouts like garden hoses? Yes.

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Women have spouts, right?

People who leave their piss on the seat have made two consecutive and terrible conscious decisions. First, to pee on the seat. So, fuck them, right off the bat. Secondly, the shameful demon pisser will have the entire length of time it takes to pee on said seat to make a decision about whether they're going to continue being an asshole. It's a fail-safe built into the process that gives people time to think about who they truly are, when no one is looking, when no prying eyes can judge, and when no one will ever find out what.

There's a solution to peeing on a toilet seat that's so simple, so intuitive, that you would think top minds from humanity's R&D department spent years developing it in labs and spent untold millions of dollars creating failed prototype after failed prototype, just so they could land on the beautifully simplified and ready-for-mass-production final product: wiping the piss away with paper.

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An idea deserving of a million tech bloggers' fanatical celebration.

There's no glory in wiping the seat after a drenching and no ticker-tape parade. And all that awaits on the other side of that choice, the one where a person gleefully soaks a glorified chair with their dick waste and then ninja-vanishes, is the knowledge that they've made life much more difficult for someone scrambling to take an emergency dump.

The Solution:

If you're going to piss on a seat and not clean it, therefore not caring that someone might actually need to use that toilet seat some point soon, at least have the common courtesy to territorially piss on everything else you touch so we could all avoid you. If you pissed all over the seat in an Applebee's, I would like to exit that bathroom to find that a table with a family of four is complaining that their appetizers are soaked, and the stack of child-booster seats a little farther ahead looks like it was hosed down, too. I want to catch a whiff of your assholearly and then run the opposite way.

In that manner, you're not being a dick -- you're being courteous in telling us through urine coding, "Hey, I know I'm a complete fucking douche bag. I can't help it. But, everywhere that you currently see urine is a place I'm likely to be. Avoiding those areas will make your visit to this fine establishment much more pleasant. You're welcome."

Trust me, we'll all appreciate your efforts. And we're totally not dialing 911 as we watch you do it.

Opening Candy Slowly In a Movie Theater

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Movie theaters sell a product at their concession stand that's so inappropriate for the theater experience that its continued existence has to be part of some demonic social experiment. Small sounds resonate like atom bombs. Coughs are startling. Whispers are the irritating, high-pitched hiss of a slightly opened bathroom faucet when you're trying to sleep. A ringing phone makes people stare like they were just told you're a prolific child molester. Any sound can transform you from just another movie-goer to a symbol for everything wrong with humanity -- which is why the plastic candy bag is one of the dumbest thing theaters can sell you just shy of air horns.

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Pro Tip: Unwrap entire pack and then cram it all in your head before the trailers start.

By selling you a bag of candy, a movie theater has tricked you into being the focal point for the audience's rage. They know you're powerless against the call of the candy. Every attempt at slowly navigating a hand through a candy bag fails spectacularly. Every labored crinkle gives more inarguable reason for someone to revoke your candy privileges by any means necessary, even an excessive humanity-depleting display of animal-like, brute force.

"A thousand pardons, sir. But, could you please lower the volume on your bag? You will? Smashing, sir! Enjoy the film."

The Solution:

Bring enough loud-ass candy for everyone in the theater. That way, we can all stare in bewilderment at the movie we cannot hear over our maddening crinkling chorus. Rather than be the focal point of the audience's ire, bring them into the fold. Make them just as responsible for making Netflix and illegal torrenting look that much more appealing.

Even then, the irritating noises can be used as a benefit. Instruct everyone to eat only when Vin Diesel is speaking, so none of you have to hear his ridiculous, wooden deliveries. Is it raining in a particular scene? For the love of god, bust out the gummy bears right then! The crinkling adds to the rain's sound effects. It'll be like you're all in a raging storm.

Look, all I'm saying is that if you're going to do any of these dick moves, you could at least make it entertaining and worthwhile. With a little creativity, damn near anything can be forgiven. Because heaven knows it's simply impossible for you to just not do those dickish things in the first place. Why are you still looking at me like I'm being sarcastic?

Luis is drenching your toilet seat right now. Meanwhile, he can be found on Twitter and Tumblr.

For more from Luis, check out 4 Video Games That Revolutionized Boring Parts Of Gaming and 6 Brilliant Websites That Should Not Exist.

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