I don't follow these precious traditions

I don't follow the Perga, that's Schopenhauer, nor do I care about a yarmulke, or care for ramen noodles, or biscuit cake, or tea with sugar cube in my mouth, any gifts given that a child likes, or the tradition of being bonked on the head for being in the country enjoying cheese with a friend, I don't follow these horrible traditions. I also think it's foolish to live with someone who hates you. It's easy to be such a foolish fool when a man almost kills you.
These traditions are fiction, there's no reality to them, and the people who follow them are dorks. It's obvious these traditions, like a grandfather giving you stories by the fire, it's a pack of lies, I'm the unlucky one, I never had a grandfather, I don't remember any golden days, none of the silence or grandparents were golden to me, no one shared with me any tradition, everyone's busy on their smartphones, mp3 players, portable game consoles, these gizmos, those gadgets, talking to friends over video games, sharing their bp's, a hip and modern cake for my birthday, portable foods, no Christmas spirit, no charity for sick kids on Christmas, somebody cares, it certainly isn't my tradition. My tradition is to spend the last few months going to Pasta Gogo, eating heart-healthy foods, sticking to my diet plan, shopping for supplements like my dad, that sort of thing, I don't remember any memorable tradition anyone gives a shit about.