discussion comment
2 years ago
Yeah, sweetheart. 16K+ posts from you. Clearly your hands are constantly working with something you keep in your pocket.
I will go to Johnny A's next week. Seems to be your place. You'll stand out. Older white guy. MAGA man, though not the QAnon type. Probably 55-62. Heavy set. I guess 5'8"-6'0, 220 - 260. High school education. Maybe once did a brief stint in the military. Definitely blue-collar. Probably married a short-time before she left you (but of course it was her fault). Air of self-importance about yourself. Self-declared protector of the working woman! Probably knows every girl working Johnny-As and several other establishments as you throw your several dollars (ooooh the "cashman") around each week thinking you're the big man and that they're smiling at you speaking with you because they like you. I'd give you the clinical definition but don't want you to have to google it and take precious time away from posting here.
They don't. They're willing to take your few dollars but they talk with you because they feel sorry for you. Just like you feel sorry for yourself. How can people have not recognized what a great individual you are your entire life? From your boss to your ex-wife to the kid or two that maybe you see once or twice a year. Everybody else is the problem.
Your the one sitting on your phone constantly thinking you're popular and a big-man and well-liked because people respond to your 16K+ anonymous posts. You'll keep everyone in their place. You're the CASHMAN!(ooooooh again).
So, yeah, I'll pick you right out next week because you will so stand out as described. I'll know who you are if you have the balls to show up that is. You won't know who I am though, and it will bother you all day, all night. Every new face...you'll wonder if it's me. You'll wonder if you've seen me there before. You're probably thinking to yourself right now how you'll be the big man and show me...but you won't be certain. And you won't want to approach me because, if you're wrong, you won't know who or what that person is. And, if you're right, you don't know who or what I am. Maybe a cyber guy. Maybe ex-SF. Maybe a no-one...but you'll never be certain because I blend into the background. Anywhere and everywhere. Nah, if you even think I'm there when you're there, you'll get up and walk-out. Because at the end of the day, you're a little pussy who hides behind his phone and anonymity, and pays women to speak with him and occasionally scratch his balls.
Happy New Year.