To Whom It May Concern:

“Rape.”

Every time I hear you say that word, I want to FedEx you a kick to the junk. Perhaps repeated kicks (I wonder, would I get bulk rate?).

Imagine for a moment your mom or your sister or girlfriend (or your dad who’s been imprisoned for drunk driving). Mom or sis or girlfriend is walking across a grocery store parking lot. A Silence-of-the-Lambs van rolls up, snatches her and then bad things happen.

By bad things, I mean one, two, possibly three guys hold her down, against her will. They strip her of her clothing and rob her of her dignity, pride and general feeling of safety. Nevermind the physical damage. How do you feel about the idea of someone forcing your loved one to have sex with them involuntarily? They never recover. Not really. Broken things.

How would you feel knowing your girlfriend has been raped?

Take it a step further. How would you feel about getting raped? You laugh at the thought, I know, because that’s who you are. Have you ever seen American History X? It could happen to you just as easily as anyone else. Imagine anything forcibly inserted…

That’s “rape.” And you use it as a taunt. This childish banter you fling about carelessly as though the world should quake in fear of your video game prowess. Rape is not something you should be using as a means of describing your alleged mastery of a video game opponent. When did this become acceptable behavior?

Personally, I’m not offended by profanity, taunting or smack talking of any kind. Especially not yours. Chances are I’ve heard far better than you can dish out. My friends are better at it than you. They’ve had more practice.

And they still don’t use the term “rape.”

Crying “rape” at someone isn’t good-natured smack talking. It doesn’t put anyone in his or her place. All it does is make you look like what you are: an immature jackass.

Yes, I know. You feel safe running your 15-year-old mouth, sitting there in your bedroom, hopped up on sugar and surrounded by all the toys your over-indulgent mommy and daddy can afford. You drape your internet anonymity off your shoulders like a cape and get away with everything you can. It’s the American way, after all.

Tell you what else is the American way. Beating the crap out of little jackasses like you. You sit there in the dark, alone, and sling your verbal debris because it makes you feel just a little less insecure. Because you know tomorrow, when you go back to school, there’ll be someone to pick you up and stuff your stupid ass in a locker or trashcan. Or to date the girl you don’t have the cajones to ask out.

Maybe I should feel pity for you. But you know, I don’t. I hope you get your comeuppance. Because that’s what you deserve. I hope you live a lonely, meaningless life devoid of meaningful relationships and good friends.

Because you know better. You know better and choose to act the assclown.

Truth? You’re not hurting my feelings. You’re not ruining my day. You’re annoying me, sure, but that’s about as far as it goes. While you’re still trying to figure out who you are and what to do with your miserable life, I’ve got a hot wife, a home, a couple cars and can do pretty much whatever I want. I don’t need to yell “rape” at someone to feel better about myself.

Until you can act like a mature individual, I wish you every bad thing.

Here’s hoping you get what you deserve.

-- An Older Gamer