I’m a man of few words. Mainly these ones: hatred, spite, insecurity, waffles.

Still, I believe I’ve learned a thing or two about LIFE and the freaking HUMAN CONDITION during my time in this crazy world, so I decided to compile everything I know into this post, which I call ADVICE FOR PEOPLE NAMED “KEITH”. So here you go, Keiths:

‘Sup dudes! How are things? Not good, probably. I know. It’s tough out there for a Keith. You’ve had a hard time finding prospective employers willing to look past your neck tattoos and you’re forced to change meth dealers so often you can’t remember the prison nickname of the one who’d always been your favorite. Snake-something, or something-Dawg. SnakeDawg? No, that wasn’t it.

Anyway, like I said, it’s tough being a Keith. I’m sure you wish you’d been born in this past decade, a time when mothers have the foresight to give their sons names like Hayden, or Aidan, or Jaden, or Bentley.

If you do, CUT IT OUT. That’s dumb. Those names are stupid. If you’re going to wish anything, you should wish to have been born 150 years ago, when men had REAL names, like Rutherford B. Hayes and Chesterton Scowlesworth. No Keiths back then, that’s for sure. You know, now that I think about it, this isn’t so much “advice” as much as it is me making fun of you.

I suppose if there’s one thing to take away here, it’s this: change your name. It’s easy. Lots of people do it. Just start calling yourself something crazy, like Garbageman or Funk. Problem solved!

Well, that’s it I guess. Hopefully you feel a lot better. I know I do.

-Rob

*Additional note to self: Seriously. Don’t forget to fix the title. I bet you will, you moron.