BY BILL NIGHY
Every time I tell them my name at Starbucks, the cashier seems to feel the need to ask me, “Oh, like the science guy?”
Ha ha.
Well.
Take a good fucking look at my last name you shit birds.
You see that “gh” in there? Is there a “gh” in Nye? No?
Well then I guess it isn’t like the fucking science guy at all, is it, you garbage?
Look, I get it. Our names sound similar. And that was fun maybe the first two times I had it pointed out to me, if that. But now barely a day goes by without some douche horse singing that moronic science guy song at me, or asking me to tell him that inertia is a property of matter.
Hardy fucking har har. I’ll kill you.
What’s more is that I don’t think Bill NYE has ever had this problem. I don’t think anyone asks Bill NYE if he’s an acclaimed British actor who has made an indelible mark on cinema with hits like Love Actually, Pirates of the Caribbean and Gideon’s Daughter, not to mention his countless radio and theatrical performances. No, of course not. That bow-tie wearing thunderfuck does one pathetic vinegar-and-baking-soda show in the 90s, and all of a sudden everyone sees fit to compare him to the guy who wowed audiences in the second Underworld movie.
Bill Nye’s efforts to promote scientific literacy have clearly failed, considering people don’t even have the basic literacy to be able to tell our shitting, fucking, dicking names apart. And if you fall in that group, you fetid dunces, I’ll spell it out for you again: Bill Nighy. That’s NIGH-EE, spelled with a go fuck yourself, you bastards.
Remember it. Respect it.
Fuck all of you.
