Sin 2: Money is the root of being pissed off.

WORD UP.

Good day sirs, Bryan Bishop here with his weekly bullheaded, mean-spirited column. Ready for some more 200 proof cynisism, with no chaser? Good, because here it comes.

Sin 2: Owing money to a friend.

You know, I hate busting people out. It’s awful! I hate saying somebody’s name and exposing them as the sniffling, pathetic cheapskate they are. But I got this friend, by the name of Chris, who is a sinner. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, this boy has broken commandment #2: Thou shalt not owe a friend money. A nice tag for this one should also be “thou shalt not lend money to a friend”. Because friends are like that, aren’t they? “Aw, I’ll pay you back. Oh, you dont’ have to worry.” And you can’t get harsh with them. Unless, of course, you’re a dickhead like yours truly.

But I digress. Now, the story.

It was fall of October, and I was a miserable bastard. I had one friend who was a Zoloft-snorting asshole, and another friend who was great, save for his utter lack of drive. So me and said friend, CHRISTOPHER ADAM SHUTTER, are hanging out, and he’s lamenting the fact his Zoloft-hoochie roomate is throwing him out. So he asks for money.

I should have looked into the situation a little right then. Here was a guy who couldn’t get a job… couldn’t? I’m sorry, couldn’t be bothered to get off his ass to find a job. And I’m going to give him money? How much money, Bryan?

100 bucks.

I give it to him to pay his rent. And then he swiftly leaves anyway, with my money. I ask when I can get it back.

“Well, uh, I gotta pay back my parents, and then Marty, and then Jason, then you.”

What? That’s not how it works. You have my money, and when I ask for it, you better have it or better have something worth 100 dollars to give to me.

So, still clinging to my ‘nice guy’ mentality, I let off 25 bucks, so I can get my money back. Nothing. Spring goes by. Summer. He lives at home, rent free, and has a job delivering pizzas. Fall comes. Still no money. I cut it down to sixty dollars, just wanting my money. Then I invite him over for a bender.

…and he has a brand new hat with earflaps, an a 150 dollar SKS illegal Serbian rifle to show off.

…yes, there was an axe handy. No, I didn’t use it. Mainly because of the rifle.

So I’m thinking, “Okay, okay, one slip up, no big deal.” Wednesday, I go over to his house, and he shows me his massive DVD collection.

Chris: At one point, I was buying a DVD every day!

Me: What about my money?

Chris: Oh dude, I had a car payment.

…worthless asshole.

This man is a sinner, and in two months, if I don’t have my money, he’s going to be a sinner in small claims court. If he doesn’t have the money, I’ll just ask for one thing: the trigger for that rifle, and a trip to the bathroom.

Flush.

QUESTION

Why did ABC stop using John Tesh’s NBA on NBC theme, and turn to something by suck artist extrevant Justin Timberlake? And why am I seeing a cartoon of this sorry individual on my TV, trying to get me to go to McDonalds? And why is it that Marvin Gaye, John Lennon, Tupac, and Jam Master J are dead, and nobody’s taking shots at Timberlake or Nelly? Explain this to me, okay? Geez, you pop one attractive girl’s cherry and the whole world wants your autograph.

TOBEY KEITH IS A FASCIST

This guy I hate. You know him. He’s the fat, gravy guzzling wanker who first came into our consiousness singing “How do you like me now?” Wow! A country musician who doesn’t adhere to the norm! Rad! But wait… something bad happened. So he’s singing, and…

“We’ll put our foot in your ass/courtesy of the Red, White, and Blue.”

“We got too many gangsters doin’ dirty deeds…”

“…Take all them bad boys, hang them high in a tree”

…I really hate this asshole. Untalented, childish, simpleton banter, geared to connect with the lowest common denomenator. And it sucks to listen to, also! This guy isn’t some fun-loving guy. He’s a racist son of a bitch! And he pays country music, to boot. Fuck him, and fuck everybody like him.

…sorry about that. Arkansas sucks, and sometimes the cynisism is hard to break. But next week, never fear, for I will be back to talk a little more to you, and fill your heads with four-letter words and rubbish. Ta!