The Antichrist (or, Snappy Answers To Stupid Bitches)

May 2007:

I was already in a bad mood when I walked out of the Shop Rite. Why I was in this bad mood is another tale for another time and one I will most likely never tell so insert your own bad mood experience and vibe with me. I was already in a bad mood and, as I walked out of the Shop Rite this lady standing outside flagged me down to cough up a contribution to her cause. Normally I would just politely mumble an excuse and move on, or, if the cause was worthy, actually hand over some cash. But today I was in a bad mood, as I have now said three times, and the cause was D.A.R.E., so I decided to have some fun as an alien on this planet. The sign said "DARE to resist drugs and violence" so I turned to her with my best sweet sincere smile and said "But I like drugs and violence!" She frowned for a second -- I had deftly leaped right off of her script and she needed time to recover, but recover she did and like a champ too, countering with "But these are kids we're talking about!" Nice move. Appeal to our culture's idolization of children as an abstract. I smiled again and replied "Yeah, I liked drugs and violence when I was a kid!" Another frown almost instantly covered up and she came back with "But we're talking about fifth graders, not high schoolers!" As if she was tacitly admitting that she liked drugs and violence too, and further that she probably fucked half of her high school class, but that fifth graders existed in a purer state and we needed to protect them. With my money. So I smiled again, this time nothing sweet or sincere about it, and said "I liked drugs and violence when I was in fifth grade." Another frown, another pause, and then "Okay, have a nice day." "Same to you," I said and walked towards my car, content that later that night that woman would, over the dinner table, tell her husband how that afternoon she had met the Antichrist.