I Can Trace All My Problems Back to Being Forced to Learn Cursive Handwriting

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Block letters forevers.

I admit, I have challenges. But whatever my addictions and felonies may or may not be, I think I have found the start of it all. I’m pretty sure I can trace all my life problems back to being forced to learn cursive handwriting in the second grade.

I remember the exact moment when it all went wrong. There was a picture of a ship, and I was supposed to write “ship” under it. That’s when I went completely off the rails. Something broke utterly in my mind, leaving me the man I am today. I am beset by trials, and, it must be said, facing municipal, federal, and international charges. My alleged crimes are in no way my fault. Cursive is to blame.

My infidelity issues and sex addiction obviously started with cursive. As we all know, the cursive lowercase S looks exactly like a woman’s boob. My drug and alcohol problems spring from the self-loathing I feel about having either too much or not enough sex, and I only ever began embezzling and theft to support my substance abuse and sex addictions.

By the way, cocaine or heroine addicts have it easy. All they have to do is buy their drugs and do them. I should know, I’m addicted to both. But sex addicts like me have to get dressed, look functional, and convince someone to have sex with them. It’s a real hassle, and it all goes back to the pressure my second grade teachers put on me to learn to write cursive.

Seriously, have you looked at cursive writing? It doesn’t make any sense at all. The uppercase letter “Q” alone is enough to send you sobbing into and then snorting cocaine out of your wife’s best friend’s cleavage. And don’t get me started on the upper case cursive “X.” Pretty sure that one is why I like MDMA so much. You know, because it’s called “ecstasy” or just “X.” Open and shut case against cursive right there.

Everything goes back to cursive. Yes, I’m accused of faking my death to avoid prosecution for the embezzling and thefts. Yes, they say I stole an identity and absconded to Venezuela where I worked as a confidence man and attempted to revive the National Socialist party. But if I did those things, and I’m not saying I did, I was driven to do them by the swoopy, shitty style of handwriting known as “cursive.”

They should just shorten it to “curse,” because that’s what it is to me: a curse.