Letter From an Asshole

Yesterday, I published two April Fools pieces on assholes (Imaging Studies Reveal Brains of Assholes, Psychiatry Come Up With New Diagnosis of Asshole). Naturally, I expected assholes to take offense, and sure enough ...

Dear Sir:

Speaking as an asshole, I take extreme umbrage to your posts. Just because we treat people like shit doesn't mean we're full of shit. We are people, too, and we expect you to treat us much differently than we would treat you.

Don't you realize? You and everyone else are mere outer planets in my universe. Not even a gas giant. Not even a moon rock. Not even a piece of Pluto that has been demoted to renegade asteroid status. No, more like a cosmic speck of dust, and the lowest order cosmic speck of dust at that. Sort of like a molecular splinter of a dirty space-floating chunk of ice.

For your information, I'll have you know, Assholes are very compassionate. Why just the other day, I suppressed the urge to jump the curb and run over a mother with her baby, fucking mewling screeching poop machine. The only thing they're good for is as the main ingredient on Iron Chef. Roast rack of baby with rosemary, now we're talking.

But do they ever put me on the short list for a Nobel Prize? Me, with all the abuse I have to put up with? Just yesterday, some diphthong-mangling, border-jumping, Obama-loving excuse of a waiter actually had the effrontery to serve me water in a wine glass.

How the hell was I supposed to react? Of course I made him rue the day he was born. You'd think the patrons in the restaurant would have supported me in my moment of need, but no, they were whispering and looking at me. ME!

As if I were the one who did something wrong. No, all they see is me summoning the manager and saying in a very loud voice that even the slop-ladlers in the kitchen can hear that I will call the health authorities and have them shut down their filthy cockroach-infested excuse of a Dairy Queen if he doesn't fire Gunga Din immediately.

What they didn't see was that I generously tipped the ungrateful wretch one dollar.

See, a regular Mother Teresa I am, and my therapist agrees with me. She better, the bitch. She's the third one I've had in three months and she can be replaced and she knows it. Christ! I've texted her eleven times in the last 20 minutes. Why isn't she responding?

Damn! I just noticed I forgot to put my ice cream back in the freezer. The price I paid for this yuppie shit named in honor of some over-rated dead rock star, the stuff shouldn't melt. Cherry Garcia, my ass. I'm going to file a class-action law suit.

Well, that completely shoots my day to hell. Should I call my reiki specialist to say I'm not coming in? No, not my problem.

Anyway, I trust you have an appreciation for what Assholes have to endure. Why I had to point this out to you is beyond my comprehension, but then again coming from a lowly piece of space junk like yourself, don't get me started.

Respectfully yours ...