If you were standing in line at the grocery store and you saw a malevolent yeti with oddly patterned facial hair and you yelled out the word “Creep!” I’m willing to bet the guy you’re yelling at wouldn’t even turn around.
It seems like creeps don’t know they are creeps. It’s fundamentally against their nature as creeps to realize how creepy they are. If they did, they would stop being creepy and we would have no more creeps.
Even when they have to register as sex offenders, they probably think, “I don’t care what my criminal history has to say. I’m still a good guy.”
In my mind, anyone registering as a sex offender would automatically realize he is also a creep. It should be one of the boxes the judge checks on the judgment form.
I think I’ll campaign for legislation that requires people to register as creeps. Obviously, being a creep is much broader than being a sex offender.
You might never have committed a crime, per se. Perhaps you just stare at others for way too long while you’re dressed as Santa Claus. You could be a 40-year-old man who lives with his mother and collects unicorn figurines. Or, you hack up phlegm while picking things out of your ear at your 20-hour-a-week job at Game Stock.
If you come crawling up from the slime-covered gutter you infest to linger outside my door, most certainly you should be branded as a creep. Because that’s what we, the uncreepy public, need — a brand across your face that shouts CREEP! so we don’t have to.
Honestly, the brand would benefit you as well. You might finally realize that you are a creep, and the magic that is calling someone a creep would reverse your creepiness and make you bearable to make eye contact with.

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