Wednesday, October 1, 2003

Gimme Yer Lunch Money

Dear Friends, 

  So I'm hanging out, you know, around town, minding my own business, and some dumb-looking guy walks by looking all whatever, stupid and stuff. So I shove him a few times, and his girlfriend says, "Pick on someone your own size!" What's that all about? It's hard to find someone exactly my size to pick on. Most of the people who are as tall as me and weigh as much as I do so much fatter than I am. I mean it's disgusting sometimes to think that they just let themselves go like that. Anyway, I realized that if I lost 50 pounds, I could safely and fairly pick on people who are 50 pounds lighter than me, without the stigma of mismatched weight classes. Furthermore, those guys who are my current size would feel guilty about picking on me. It's a win-win situation. Suddenly the cultural obsession with weight loss makes sense to me. 
  The key will be to slim down without losing any of the intangible qualities that make me such an effective bully. After all, good bullying is not just about throwing your weight around. In fact, it's not about violence at all. It is about grace and honor. When most people think of bullies they think of intimidation and arm twisting, but the true bully is foremost at harmony with himself. He meditates on patience and humility, striving to achieve an objective state of completeness. Only when he attains this transcendent state can he focus his entire being on giving swirlies, grundies, wet willies, and atomic noogies to twerps who have it coming. 
  The true bully knows his enemy as he knows himself, and anticipates his enemy's next move. For instance, when I say, "Hey, Twinkie, give me your lunch money or else," I have to be prepared to defend against a possible "Or else what?" Furthermore, when I lift someone up by their shirt and slam them against a locker with their feet dangling, I have to be prepared to defend against a possible pants-wetting. 
  Speaking of pants-wetting, I'm about ready for a new pair of jeans just thinking about the October Hard Taco song, "Hooded Jackets." If you've ever yearned for the summer to finally end, this is your torch song. Be careful, though, because it kind of rocks, so don't play it too loud or your mom might take away your boom box until you learn to be more considerate of others who don't have the capacity to rock as hard as you do. I'm still waiting to get my boom box privileges back from when I played the fourth Boston album in my parents house in 1992. 

With Warmest Regards,