My man has been storing some stuff up, and as usual it is very good.

He gets it. Even better, he can write it.

With all due respect, fuck you, David Denby. The little people are pissed off, and out here in the hinterlands, “fuck you” is fairly normal discourse, even with people we like. “Civil,” even. Usually just funny, laughter being a key part to maintaining some level of sanity as we count on the morons who drove the bus into the ditch to fix the whole fucking mess from their glorious perches above us, worrying not about what most of us actually experience.

Snark, ridicule, is all we have. And I’m sorry for you, Mr. Denby, that there are so many so good at it.

Here’s a thought, D.D. Release your financial profile, and maybe we’ll consider your vapors more seriously, if we can see that you are relatable from the actual real life place most of us live.

Until then, you’re just another sanctimonious, pretentious, out-of-touch dick who doesn’t get it.

Update: The link embedded in the link above is such a terrific and ironically brilliant example of high-art snark that it needs to be re-linked. One you might not want to miss, if you’re in to that sort of thing.

It is a lovely piece of asking the old man yelling at you to get off his lawn, “Why? We’re not hurting anything. For some reason, you just think we are. You’re too mean and creepy for us to stick around long enough to hurt your perfect lawn, and your dog kind of enjoys the attention. Oh, and congratulations for raising a great dog. Because, you know, that’s really hard.”

Update 2: Oh, and Mr. Denby? Hungry sick hopeless homeless people are not going to be too interested in civil discourse with you, should you ever run into a pack of them. I hope for both of us that doesn’t happen, and I mean that in the most civil way.