Barack, your yuppie supporters are truly pissing me off
Dear Sirs and Madams,
How’s it going? Maybe you don’t remember me. I was that irate guy in a dripping wet business suit, shooting you dirty looks last week.
See, ever since you folks moved into the empty storefront next to my neighborhood liquor store, parking has been tough to come by when I need a bottle. The store is in a tiny little strip mall with only a dozen spaces or so and they’re usually empty, save for a homeless family spending the night in a beat up Corolla.
The liquor store doesn’t have the best selection—a few good, cheap chiantis, pinots and a basic collection of hard stuff—but it’s on the way home from work and minutes from my home. And until recently the store had plenty of parking. Grant it, all of that open space and proximity to Hypnotique
make the lot a magnet for drunken vagrants, homeless spangers
and prostitutes who hang out at the nearby BP, but these people are a part of our community and, I feel, add a certain flavor to the neighborhood.
Then there’s you people.
Now, when I pull into my liquor store parking lot, usually in a hurry, I can’t find a place to park. Your Volvo's and SUV's, festooned with Obama frippery, occupy much of the tarmac, sitting between me and my delicious liquor like a yuppie obstacle course.
Speaking of obstacles, watching you liberal do-gooders try to negotiate a path from the cocoon of a luxury automobile to the front door of Obama HQ while compassionately getting rid of the homeless that descend upon you is delightful.
There’s this one guy who lives under the CSX trestle over on Jo Johnston Ave. He’s got a nice setup over there with a tent and everything. Anyway, I once saw him ask one of your number if she had any “change.”
Was that you he was talking to? If so, nice work! While I’m cold hearted enough to never give money out to people on the street, I don’t think I could bring myself to try and kill that homeless man with boredom the way you did. I heard you launch into your political soliloquy with a self important, “Well, if you really want change, sir...” and just run with it from there. Kudos. As I walked past him that day, he shot me the most pathetic look of desperation. “Please,” his eyes begged, “kill me.” I bet you didn’t even have to give him any money.
While I admire this kind of thing, I find your presence to be a nuisance. Especially last week.
Remember Hurricane Ike? I sure do. I’ll never forget how I got caught in a downpour when a bit of the storm passed over Nashville. I was at the liquor store and had to park practically across the street because everybody at Obama HQ was so excited about Hope that they just had to take up all the parking spaces close to the store. I got drenched and my bottle damn near fell through the soaking wet paper bag it was in.
Maybe this is part of your plan, Obamaholics. Perhaps I was supposed to feel some kind of kinship with the victims of Hurricane Katrina or maybe get a better appreciation for the effects of global warming by experiencing this storm firsthand. None of that happened, though. All I got was wet and mad at you.
In the future, it would be great if you could park across the street or better yet, take the public transportation that you are always crowing about. It might save you, me and the good people who make their living in that parking lot a whole lot of trouble.
Welcome to the neighborhood.