The zygote blood of shitty zines aborted before they ever got a chance to breathe the sour air of nerd halitosis is some tasty, tasty stuff. Here’s a gem we got from someone who ran the computer lab in the children’s section of a suburban library. One of his buddies, an eight-year-old jock named Anthony, scribbled down this scorching missive against the three people he hates most in life: some bitch teacher, a coach who’s probably too busy ruffling hair and patting rumps to notice his talent, and an attention-desperate once-famous athlete. It’s amazingly impressive how, in all his rage, he still meticulously follows the stringent set of laws governing the Five Paragraph Essay.