The Angryman Memoirs - Prelude

Let’s count off all the things that you are currently basing your self worth on; your car, your job, your designer (or designer rip-off) shades and how much money you and your friends effectively deep sixed pursuing a hangover last weekend. Don’t argue with me, you know it’s true, you are, probably more than a little bit shallow. It’s not your fault, you are a sheep.

I find it amusing, in an ironic, homicidal tendancy inducing, kind of way that when ever you get to second meeting level conversation (don’t get me started on the first meeting, ’so, what do you do’) it is invariably some version of the self-righteous monologue entitled, ‘People are so fake’. This normally takes place at the highly marbled bar of the flash in the pan, uber-trendy, place to be seen hotel. That will be 73 Dirhams for a plate of lightly battered leftovers.

I know, I am just another random who can string together 5 words into an insulting sentence. But. And I stress, there need to be more of me, the world demands it. I am the peer pressure anti-Christ and I am here to lead you into dark of your living rooms where introspection, inner peace and blissful weight gain, my holy trinity if you will, hold court.

So, with this I will begin a regular distribution of abuse, derogatory commentary and self-serving pontificating that is guaranteed to have your begging for more. And if it doesn’t, well, you know that really big flag pole?

Here’s to me.