See, the Snarky Boy has a little policy here that you need to know about. When you or anyone else you know even ponders a critical thought about me, I set off to break into your car and try to steal your parking meter change. I know, I know, it might sound crazy….but I AM crazy. That’s why I’m Snarky Boy.
And I’ve been getting a lot of negative vibes lately from a whole bunch of people afflicted with what is obviously a complete lack of a sense of humor. You know the kind, usually uptight liberals who’ve developed ass hernias from holding their buns so tight for so long. They’re so disconnected with what they think that they don’t even know what they think any more.
The final political result, of course, is that they actually find excitement in political candidates like Dukakis, Gore, Kerry, Welch, Parker, and the like. Hell, they love the Gore bore so much they’re bringing him back for a second political act – this time as a movie star! And they’re so goddamn gullible that they’ll even let Gore get away with blaming Bush for the entirety of the global warming fiasco, forgetting, of course, that Gore was the number two guy right here in the USA for EIGHT LONG YEARS. But, sure, it’s all Bush’s fault.
Notice I didn’t put Clinton in that mix. Clinton was the embarrassment to the crowd of lifeless Dems because Clinton sought pleasure. That’s a big no-no. And as if to atone for the collective sin of electing a pleasure seeker, they handed two elections to Bush by nominating two limp pricks to oppose him, Gore and Kerry. Whew! Penance complete! Or maybe not, because there’s apparently never enough penance for the joyless.
But that’s not what I wanted to talk about. I’m meandering, probably because there’s still enough liquor in my body to still be legally drunk. And it all began with a rendezvous at Charlio’s last night, where my merry band of “equalizers” got right to work pumping alcohol into our bodies and checking our lists of who said something bad about Snarky in the last 48 hours. And what a list it was!
If Snarky’s therapist wasn’t such an obnoxious prick in her own right, she’d probably have convinced me that I should just swoon under any attention. But we haven’t gotten there yet. So Snarky seeks revenge. Sure, it’s petty, but I’m petty – especially when I’m drunk.
With an appointed designated driver we planned to travel all over the state to hunt down the cars of people we suspected of not liking us. We were even organized, too, taking the time, for example, to alphabetize the list. One of the “equalizers” fought strenuously against the alphabetic plan, instead arguing for a more geographic approach. But all we had to go by were names – not addresses – so we stuck to the alphabet, something we know a bit about.
Off we went – beginning with “a.” First up: Anonymous. This bastard has been everywhere on the Net spewing spineless barbs at the Snarky Boy. Fucking coward. He or she won’t even use her or his own name. Worse, Anonymous isn’t only a coward; he or she is obviously confused. One minute Anonymous likes Snarky and the next Anonymous hates Snarky. But, whatever, we needed to find Anonymous’ car for that spare change.
First stop: Borrow the phonebook and look the confused creep up. Ha! Anonymous won’t even put himself or herself in the phonebook! What a panty waste.
But we were stuck. No “Anonymous” in the book other than some reference to alcohol but none of us feel ready to pursue that path quite yet. So we tried the next person on our list. Damn! Another Anonymous! And that one wasn’t in the book either! Fuckers.
So we went back to the first Anonymous, determined to work our way down the list with a new plan. We’d ask around. Certainly, someone would know our first Anonymous and steer us to his/her car for some spare change.
No such luck. Anonymous is clearly a wily character because everyone seemed prepared to cover for him/her. With each, “do you know the first Anonymous,” we only got studied shoulder shrugs and well-rehearsed looks of irritation (To be fair, I think some of them smelled the alcohol on our breath and were a bit suspicious. But, hell, all we were looking to do was steal spare change from Internet adversaries. I mean, get a life, people.)
So not only did we not find the first Anonymous, we didn’t come close to finding his/her car. And then, as happens most of the time with our plans, we were too drunk to do much more than shoot pool, hang with our Charlio’s fan club, and play Vermont’s fastest growing drinking game: 1) Get a bottle and a television set tuned to ANY local channel; 2) Take a drink every time you see a Tarrant commercial.
And don’t forget the designated driver.
This spare change thing didn’t seem too smart anyway. I can make more in an hour painting rich people’s houses than I could in a week of spare change thievery. And I doubt anyone would make the connection between their missing spare change and the important political revenge that it was a part of. Well, except those whining Democrats. And they think everyone’s out to get them, even if you could care a less about them.
Besides, I think they’re onto us by now.
But, hey, that’s life in the land of make-believe.
