The Autobiography Issue

The Autobiography Issue
The Autobiography Issue

Typically when a journalist interviews or writes about an individual they can paint whatever picture they want of the person. The end result is most often a total bunch of bullshit.  That is what writers are paid to do.  We ourselves have made a few heroes look like assholes and a few assholes look like heroes.  Who is more qualified to express yourself than you?   I told everyone, “Do what you want it, it is your chance to let the world know who you are.” As a result Shane Beschen got all guru-like and decided to use his Autobiography in the The Autobiography Issue to reflect on life and spread his words of wisdom. Corey Duffel on the other hand went schizophrenic and interviewed himself.  To kick this issue off I decided that I should do myself (ha, I just said do myself) as I have asked the others.  So here is my little autobiographical piece:

I like now to imagine that when I was born I looked around the delivery room and took stock of each of the faces.  Dripping in blood and afterbirth I said to myself, “Asshole, asshole, asshole and you with the glasses you look like an asshole too.”   From the first few seconds of my life I was destined to become a bitter and grumpy old man.  My attitude is getting worse, by the day, my last 4 surf sessions have resulted nearly coming to blows with two 12 year old groms, one 8 year old girl, and a 42 year old mother of 3.   I can be such a bastard.  I could easily fix my squeaky fan belt but instead I prefer to keep it noisy so I can piss off people.  I derive great sadistic pleasure from upsetting people with the deafening screech that my truck’s motor makes.  The other day while leaving a 7/11 I deliberately revved my engine so as to annoy a portly fellow who was talking on his cell phone.  I thought to myself, “That asshole on the cell phone right there, watch this.”  I revved my engine to unleash the deafening high-pitched ERRRZZZZZZZECKKKK of my fan belt.  The guy, who had his back to the truck, paused from his conversation to glare in the direction of the noise.  After a moment he went back to his cell phone to say whatever it was he was trying to say, “As I was say. . ..” ERRRZZZZZZZECKKKK, I unleashed the fan belt at him again.  This went on for the next five instances as he tried to speak into his cell phone.  A short while later I found my next victim: a proud soccer mom sipping her Starbucks while pushing her newest little consumer who was peacefully sleeping in her brand new Eddie Bauer stroller.  I waited until the truck was right next to Mother and Offspring and floored it ERZZZZZZZEEKKKKK.  The happy mother’s peaceful maternal bliss was shattered into a thousand pieces.  Am I trying to impress anyone with these antics?  No I am just a bastard.

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