Have you been called a tool before, but were unsure whether your detractor was just jealous of your sikk style or highlighting traits about you that you failed to pick up because of your feeble introspective ability? Well, it’s your lucky fucking day, for I’ve arrived to tell you, the reader, whether or not you’re an unsociably aggressive buffoon that people regularly mock.

You might be wondering: “B-b-but Aleph, what qualifies you to judge who’s a tool and who’s not”? Well, there’s no way for you to evaluate my legitimacy to judge you, so just shut your mouth and have a little faith. Just be content to know that a sizable fraction of my my outside-time is spent in one of two places:

1. The gym
2. Y-Bar

Both locales are tool colonies, so they’re a subspecies of human that I’ve grown quite familiar with. I’m also of Mediterranean background, which is where the Art of Toolery was first invented back in 1543 by Toolicus Curliceps.

Toolicus Curliceps: progenitor of modern toolery

Anyway, enough about me. This post is about you after all, so let’s begin:


This is the definitive criteria that will determine whether or not you’re a total assclown:

1. Your biceps are bigger than your head: roughly 80% of the time you spend in the gym is dedicated to building your biceps. You do this “for the bitches, bro” and your arms look like birthday balloons while the remainder of your vestige resembles one of Joseph Kony’s child soldiers. Congratulations, you’ve reached the genetic potential of one of the most functionally useless muscle groups in your body.

2. You think your minimum-wage job is cool: this mostly applies to bouncers, interns, and other manner of wage-slaves. Somebody’s made you dress in a costume and is paying you scraps to do mundane tasks for hours on end. You think being associated with a place other people like means that you’re liked by extension, but you’re nothing more than a minor cog in a massive moneymaking machine. If your workplace were N’Sync, you wouldn’t even be Lance Bass. You’re not a special butterfly, you’re the dictionary definition of an expendable, organic…well, tool.

3. You believe your mediocre sexual exploits are “epic”: you got lucky one night and actually made out with a girl who didn’t resemble a burnt wildebeest. Your accomplishment is the stuff of legends and you drone on for days about how you’d have fucked her if only she wasn’t on her period, or some other bullshit excuse girls give that you still bought wholesale.

“Sup baby gurl”

4. You look like shit: you wear plaid, have stupid tattoos, and your jeans don’t fit. You leave the house on Thursdays with a wrinkled V-neck shirt and offensively stupid hat and tell people not to confuse you with The Situation from Jersey Shore. Yes, I’ve actually seen somebody do that.

5. It takes you more than 4 years to finish undergrad: your transcript has so many F’s on it that it looks like it’s about to scream “fuck.”

6. You think your unproductive lifestyle is “hardcore”: you’re 22 years old, still smoke weed on a daily basis, and watch Netflix all day. In your mind, this carefree, spontaneous existence that you buoy with your parents’ hard-earned money is the pinnacle of machismo when, in reality, you’re nothing more than a manchild.

The Tool Intensity Scale:

After reading the tool test, count how many of the numbered points describe you and apply them to the scale below to figure out your Tool Score:
1-2: Tool
2-4: Big fucking tool
4-5: People audibly laugh when they see you
6: Autistic

One thought on “Tools

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