I Submit Q For Your Consideration
Q is by far the most useless letter of the alphabet. Everything from its sound to its aesthetic value lacks the importance and finesse of every other letter. Even the lesser used bits of the alphabet—our Zs or Xs—serve a more valuable and aesthetically pleasing purpose than any version of Q has or can or ever will (look at how awesome and cool Z and X look, you add them to an idea to make it exxxtremez).
Let’s just go over the sound of Q to start. Q, as my roughly thirty-second-long Google research proves, does not have a unique sound. It sounds like this: “kw”. Let’s look at some words that start with Q:
Now let’s see what happens when we replace those Qs with Kw’s:
Holy goddamn hell, Q, your shit just got completely obliterated by the letters K and W. K, though certainly the biggest pussy in the alphabet, serves a formidable cause in crafting callused conundrum conjuring crashes contained commonly by C. W, though suffering from an identity crisis by both name and presentation as it longs to be two Us or an upside-down M, supplies the upward whooshing sound needed to conquer Q, sealing the useless existence of the has been bit of the alphabet.
What about the way Q looks, though? Maybe it’s like the Ashton Kutcher or Gwyneth Paltrow of the alphabet: terrible to listen to but decent enough to look at. Unfortunately, this is not the case with Q. Q is the laziest designed letter (possibly even symbol) ever. It’s just an O that has been stabbed in the kidneys. Look:
Notice the difference? A perfectly good letter like O, a letter that has the courage and utility of a vowel that isn’t Y, has its good name and image tarnished by some fuckhead that can’t even make a sound that a wimpy K and a mentally drained W can’t make on their own.
How about the lowercase Q? q? q seems okay until you realize that it, too, is stealing an identity:
See that? A perfectly prevalent pronunciation pertaining per p proves pricked past puny q. On two accounts, Q has been proven to be an identity thief. For shame.
If Q was a piece of playground equipment, it would be the old washrag and mouse jizz filled tether ball at the end of that big dumb pole.
If Q was in a World War II movie, it would be that guy in the beginning of Saving Private Ryan who gets shot in the head while wearing a helmet and lives but then he takes off his helmet to marvel at his dumb luck only to catch another bullet right in the temple.
If Q was a school subject, it would be ninth-grade gym class, you know, the one where that really embarrassing thing with your underwear happened right in front of the row of girls doing crunches for the state exams and you tried to play it off like you tripped but everyone knows what you were really doing.
If Q was a disease, it would be a bucket of AIDS wrapped in cancer ribbons made out of cancer and leprosy.
Q is the Ringo Starr of the alphabet.
Q probably kills more babies than SIDS.
Q is the worst.