Recently, some drunken idiot posted a comment proclaiming that I am not real. To that individual I say, rubbish. I am in fact very real, very rich, very handsome, very powerful and very intelligent.
And though I feel no obligation to prove to you my existence, I will do so. Why? Because shedding some light on my life will hopefully make that individual feel that much worse about their own.
Now if you'll excuse me...
I have more homes in my real estate portfolio than the number of double wides in the shoddy little trailer park in which you surely reside.
Not only do I own a fleet of vintage sail boats, I also posses a large collection of Mont Blanc pens. Do they use pens down at the auto parts store where you work? Or do they make you use pencils so you can erase all your mistakes?
My wife loves me because I am rich and powerful. Yours probably loves you because you make her feel good about herself. Though that doesn't change the fact that my wife is the definition of beauty and yours is fat.
Like you, I enjoy red meat. If I didn't know better, I'd say you're a vegetarian. After all, how else can one explain the pissy attitude and transparent envy? Now I know Walmart doesn't stock Kobe Beef, but the next time your scratch lotto tickets pay out I recommend you visit your local fine dining establishment (Outback doesn't count) and order yourself a nice steak.
If I'm not real, who is? I apologize for spewing such heady existential thought. I should have made sure you were wearing a helmet first. I'll simplify, I'm real because I say I am.
Enjoy your day, from what I hear Busch Light is always on sale.
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
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