Real American Rant

Dear Sir, actually that may be a bit misleading…How about Dear blind dumb fat-fuck?

I understand that times are difficult at present and you may be doing this simply due to lack of options. So, if that’s the case, I’m willing to give you a few tips and let you know what you did incorrectly yesterday when you materialized on my doorstep.

First tip: Pay attention to everything (anything) around you.

For instance, you walked up to my doorstep past several things that probably should have garnered your attention. There were two vehicles in the driveway with United States Marine Corps license plates on them. That’s a clue that the occupant of the house is probably not in the mood for your training crap, or anything else, for that matter. I also have a cute little bronze yard sign that says “Non-religious occupant exercises his Second Amendment rights – Religiously!” That would have been your second clue that I was not in the mood for your horseshit. The third thing, and probably most important given your current employment choice, the large “No Soliciting” sign next to my front door.

These things taken separately would probably point toward the fact that there is a highly-trained, slightly quirky, no bullshit guy in the house. Instead you, in your obvious zeal for your new-found profession, saw opportunity. Well, God bless America. Tell you what, if you admit that you probably could have made better choices in regard to this particular sales attempt, I’ll admit that I freely volunteered six years of my life to defend your right to be an absolute dumbass. Deal?

I’m not sure whether or not you are aware that in the state of Colorado we have what is commonly referred to as the “make my day” law. It basically says that if I feel you are a threat to my family I can blow your balls off. I’m assuming, of course, that you are familiar with the Second Amendment. Probably a stretch but if you’re reading this you can look it up. You probably don’t feel as if you were being a threat, let me explain something that you may not know since you look about five minutes older than my teenage son. When you have kids, everything is a threat. For instance, if I were to, by some absolute miracle of unabashed stupidity, actually purchase from you the nice shiny plastic piece of foreign shit you were peddling, my eight year old daughter would not be able to purchase the brand new crack-whore barbie lookalike bratz doll that just came out. This may not sound like a threat to my family in your opinion, however, if you’ve ever heard an eight year old girl scream at the top of her lungs because she doesn’t get her way, well, lets just say I’d rather shoot you.

In the balls.

Twice.

I digress. You happened to show up as I was attempting to order my lunch. I was hungry, very hungry. So I’m gonna throw in a free survival tip for you – Don’t piss off a hungry Marine – ever. I will say you caught me off guard so good on you! Well done. When I answered the door with half of my pizza ordered, my four year old complaining about being hungry and my wife wanting a pizza with fucking spinach on it, I wasn’t quite expecting your twelve year old fat fucking Ruben from American Idol looking ass to be standing there holding a sponge. A sponge? A fucking sponge??? What do you want?

“Do you use sponges in your house?”

So being a bit distracted, hungry and off-guard, instead of saying “no, stupid ass, we scrub our dishes with cinder blocks” in a moment of pure fucking stupidity I brilliantly uttered “yeah…” and allowed you to hand me the sponge. My bad, I apologize, that was my fault.

You then beamed “I’ll be right back!” So I’m standing there hungry and irritated holding a sponge. If that weren’t bad enough I was then subjected to seeing your fat sta-puff marshmallow looking ass “run” down my driveway. It looked as if it were in slow motion, it was slightly disturbing. Just when I started to wonder where the hell you were running, your buddy appeared like David fucking Copperfield from around the corner grinning ear to ear and waving at me like I just nailed the fat friend ’cause it was his turn to fuck the hot chick.

Now at this point I should have dropped the sponges and come back to the door with a little present of my own with which I could shoot you. In the balls. Twice. But I didn’t. See, I screwed up, I’m man enough to admit it. I let it progress this far and it was up to me to end it nice and civil-like. In other words, you’re lucky my wife was there.

So here you come “running” (I really hate to describe it as that) like the guy that always gets kicked off the biggest loser first for gaining twelve pounds by eating celery – with a big, bright shiny box with the word “hoover” on the side of it.

Fuck.

So I’m looking at this sponge you’ve handed me and wondering how much blood this thing could honestly soak up when you lumbered up, past the plates, yard sign, and no soliciting sign – again, seemingly to attempt to market your goods. Here’s a little secret – If I need a vacuum cleaner I’ll go buy one. I don’t sit around in three feet of snow in my boxers freezing my balls off just thinking “fuck, I wish that parka salesman would show up already, I’m gonna fuckin’ die out here if he doesn’t…” No, I go to the store a buy a fucking parka. Cool how that works, yes? Welcome to America. I guess my point is I don’t need a vacuum cleaner. And this isn’t 1950, there’s a Walmart down the (every) street, I’ll buy a foreign plastic piece of shit there when I need one. Thanks anyway.

I was informed by my lovely wife this morning that yesterday was actually your third time up and down my street. So I guess I’m writing this to let you know that next time I will more than likely be well-fed, undistracted, and on guard. If you try that shit again you will be lying on my doorstep with the fake dyson-ball looking foreign piece of plastic shit hanging out of your ass and a dripping sponge protruding from your lips like a bloody bloated tongue.

And you will be shot.

In the balls.

Twice.

I don’t mean this to offend you, I’m just trying to help. You did catch me off-guard, well done! And you did not walk up and say something like “take the blue sponge for English or the red sponge for Spanish” so that’s an absolute plus in my book. If you choose to pursue this particular line of work you should probably begin with those two points. It’s a good foundation.

As for me, I’m (strangely enough) an agnostic male democrat. I’m married to a mormon republican female, have a teenage son that cannot put a comprehensive sentence together to save his life and two daughters who not only think they will rule the world, but firmly believe they already do.

I’m a bit testy.

Don’t fucking push it.

Have a nice day.

Love,

Me