A man in Kyiv you don’t necessarily know…
DRAMATIS PERSONAE:
Josh Davies (JD)
D (Me, Myself, I, D…, Me again, I AM, I AM NOT, Me too)
Me: Hello, is that Josh Davies (I say earnestly, like some kid).
JD: Well, hello there, D…, how nice to hear from you (he says, as if he expected my call).
Myself: I would like to talk to you about that email you sent out (sounding a little more intent on something now).
JD: Yes, what about it (son. Is there anything bothering you? – he seems to say, but actually stops after: Yes, what about it?)
I: Well, for starters, I didn’t like the way you sent my response on to a third party (meaning Rico Soiree, or Mr. Grecian Formula 44).
JD: Now, D…, I just wanted people to see what kind of response an email like than can get… (already sounding sneaky-assed, with a thick layer of condescension covering that sneaky ass).
D…: Oh, you did, did you? (I don’t know why I even bothered making this hackneyed, woman’s threat).
JD: D… (now really condescending and sweet-like, as if he’d be patting me on the back by now), I just shoot those out to people concerned…
Me again: Listen, old man (surprising myself with this aggressive right turn but liking every second of it). You send me a two-bit invitation to come to some picnic being sponsored by the Donkeys Abroad – A DAY AFTER the EVENT, NOT THAT I WOULD COME ANYWAY – and I tell you that I would sooner eat shit from a milk carton with the faces of illegal Mexican immigrants pasted on them. And then you – TURKEY NECK SHITKICKER THAT YOU ARE – send that raw response on to Soiree, the resident grease ball in Kyiv’s warped expatriate community, who then goes on to call me a racist – Bah!
JD: Now, hold on…
I AM: You hold on, you saggy-assed hillbilly (actually his old man jeans are saggy. No telling what’s in them, if anything). You sent me an email, I answered rather frankly, leaving no doubt about my utter contempt for our African American president, as I put it, who in my opinion is just a poster boy for multiculturalism and other empty leftist slogans. And your buddy – Mr. Grecian Formula 44 – calls me a racist. Now, please understand, O, Esteemed Neck of Thanksgiving Significance, that I am not the least offended by such labels bandied about by the mindless and sanctimonious assholes who have more than their fair say in modern American society. But it would be nice if they clarified the label. For example, am I being accused of hating Negroes, thinking I am better than black people, or just feeling uncomfortable around African Americans. Which is it, you stalk of corn with a withered cob?
JD: (Doesn’t say shit – no doubt enjoying the fuss he’s kicked up in me).
I AM NOT: I have a good mind to find your Viagra-starved ass and put a size 43 up it sideways.
JD: I take a size 42, actually (Humor? Hmm…).
Me too: I’ll MAKE it fit!
To be continued…
Filed by Dirk Dickerson, February 8, 2013