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Our Poncey Prince of Holiday Cheer
TheHatedOnes.jpg

If you've been reading regularly, you know of my dear friend Gerald - a.k.a. Dex the Taunter - who tortured us via email for days in an orgy of in-your-face, WWF-style threat-downs as his lummox-like Pummelinguists were set to slaughter the wee underdogs of The Varmint's Lemur Clan in their Fantasy Football Playoffs.

Well, now, it's two weeks hence - and The Pummelinguists are naught but a League footnote, whilst the mighty mighty Lemur Clan is in the final game of the playoffs.

Did you hear that, Dex? The crappy little Lemurs. IN THE FINAL GAME of the PLAYOFFS.

We were good sports about it, and sent Dex sympathy cards for an entire week. We knew how hard it was for him to lose to a troupe of lower-level arboreal primates whose main talents are communicating with their scent glands, hanging from trees and looking cute. TheHater.jpg

Now I find myself shocked, SHOCKED! to be on the receiving end of that farce of a holiday card (see image, above).

Ironically, the interior card reads "Wishing you a bright season of cheer" but just look at the envelope's addressee label, will you? "To the HATED Ones." There's the truth of it. Poor guy's STILL not over it, yet.

As a good friend, I find myself concerned: I watch Gerald slipping ever deeper into the black, black hole of curmudgeonliness. Will he ever be able to Follow His Bliss? Awaken the Giant Within? How 'bout just get laid?

I'll take this card for what it is: A cry for help. Obviously, it's the adult equivalent of of "UNCLE!", a masculine genuflection to a superior, a postal prostration, as it were.

It's a big man who can realize his limits. We feel you, G. And we're here for you. 100%.

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I am a writer and lazy artist who loves travel, architecture and design. Right now, I'm into photography. My fabulous husband (a.k.a. The Varmint) and I are also the principals of a San Diego-based creative agency - and new parents to the divine Baby Mak. Read More >