Reader Mail: The Twenty-Five Pound Watch
Morbo sends in this pic along with an astute commentary:
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DB_1,
Saw this over on the thereifixedit.com blog and felt it could stand for a little internet cross-pollination.
It’s the concept of the 10-pound watch taken to its illogical extreme.
Adding to the douchebaggery is the look on the wearer’s face. He knows exactly what he’s doing. He didn’t pull this stunt because he desperately needed to know what time it was and his actual wristwatch was broken, and his cellphone died. This asshole is craving attention, desperately wanting someone to ask, “Hey man. What’s up with the clock on your wrist?”
He would then play it off as if it weren’t much at all, when deep down he was giving himself a high-five for being so cutting-edge and cool. In fact, I bet this is the third time this week he’s worn this thing. Hell, the poor bastard sitting in front of him probably has a Grade 2 concussion from getting conked in the head every time the bus goes over a bump.
I feel like the fate of our long-running battle with douchebaggery hinges on the guy in the seat.
He is The Chosen One, though he knows it not.
If he looks up and asks about the clock, we all lose. Flava Fred here gets his moment of glory and he will lead an army of numbnuts across the Earth for the next millenium. Even a snarky comment means victory for Flava Fred.
If Seat Guy continues to look at his phone, quietly gets up at his stop and shuffles off to work, we win.
Stay strong, dude. Stay strong. We’re all counting on you.
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Word
What? Not enough scratch to buy the one with the built in calendar? Cheapskate.
What would be the result if Sitting Phone Guy punched Clock Wrist Guy in the crotch as hard as he could? Would douchebaggery win or lose?
I say Dbaggery would lose, and SPG needs to wind up a left uppercut and let it fly with crushing force.
That clock is from IKEA. I know, because I have one.
Mel Karmazin put out a team to find this guy to give him a drive time show on Pop 2K
Phone guy murmured to himself, “What a fucken asshole.”
Irony ceases to be ironic when devolves into self-awareness, caricature and hyperbole. — Immanuel Kant Believe What A Douchebag This Dude Is
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.Hyperbole I says.
We need fukkin ratings on this board. If I could rate, I would give a thumbs up to morbo’s lucid commentary, and to Vin’s succinct affirmation. And then I would go WAAAY back to DarkSock’s eloquent dissertation on Peter Pumpin’ Head and Mary Mammageddon in which he poetically discussed Peter’s ‘swole meat’ and Mary’s ‘balloon-squeak proportions’. Hell, I might even track down the originator of ‘porch beef’, for making my day!
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So who can bring us thumbs-up/thumbs-down ratings on these posts??
3:02 idiot time.