I’m at the pond on a bench typing and a dork walks by with two whores and starts threatening me. I see you, he says. I see how you looking at them. He’s got blonde hair but a Mexican face and he talks like he’s making up for how white he looks. Talks so hood I can’t understand him but they look like a billboard for community college. Something something I’ll sock you up he says, and I just say what? I don’t know what sock you up means. I get confused in these situations. What the fuck are you saying, I say. Really meaning it. I really want to know.
He’s walking away. Talking over his shoulder. And I don’t stand up and say come back. But I don’t break eye contact either. If he comes back I’ll at least try to kick his ass. I need to. Last week another Mexican almost ran me off the freeway. Old white Tahoe with a big Oakland Raiders sticker and he got off at my exit. So I stared at him. And he stared back. And he looked about 225, stone bald with a huge beard and no mustache. That ass raping Ed Norton in American History X look. So I nodded like the pussy I am. Instead of picking a fight at the intersection. Getting killed with this man’s bare hands. Had that on my mind and now here’s the gift of this fuckstick.
He might beat me but he’s not gonna one punch me. Maybe I could get his neck. But then maybe he’d tackle me. Bigger than him but he doesn’t know it. Not clear sitting down in this check shirt with snaps, typing like Mavis Beacon taught me– not clear that I’m a six foot two weight training enthusiast. But maybe I look like a bitch standing up too. Maybe it’s no coincidence.
Well he was right. I was looking at his girls. He called them “homies.” You lookin at my homies. So he’s not fucking them. What would I do. Throw a right? Should have been training. Bigger than him. Thank God I didn’t bitch out and look away. I looked at those girls and I’ll look again. Be mad motherfucker.
Bad vibes. Am I in the wrong here? He kept walking. I didn’t escalate. Barely got a glimpse of the one girl’s yoga pants crotch before he started spouting off.
He’s all talk. I was not MOGGed. Wait is that him looking at me. Is he gonna yell something across the lake. What will I do. Be a godly man and de-escalate. But I have this OCD need to eyefuck him now. He’s in the scummy water. He’s swimming. The girls are laughing. Good for him. I want to go over and start shit again. But not to where I get in a fight I then lose.
Bad vibes. Even the bees are agitated. I’m hoarding ammo. Practicing my bow thinking is this lethal at 20 yards. I’m gonna walk past them. I should write something to say. Won’t apologize. But I want to make peace. Reflect God’s will.
But what if I only want peace because I’m a bitch and pussy. I want to throw a right cross in his fucking chops but I haven’t hit a bag in two years and a face since before this guy was born. Want to walk past him and look at his girls again. Whip out my dick and start jerking off like a baboon screaming racial slurs. Go over and crouch down and say hey guys listen. Look the girls in the eye. Sorry for disrespecting you. When I stand up I have a huge erection.
Bad vibes. This shit makes old men watch concealed carry videos. .380 ACP’s stopping power for multiple assailants. Bullet fragmentation. Knees go bad and you turn into keyboard Paul Kersey dreaming about blowing apart these virile young Mexicans. He’s suffered abuse. Looking for a reason to blow off steam. Someone hurt him. It’s like that Louis CK episode where he follows his bully. But look man. You can’t walk around with sweaty jiggling college whores and expect me not to look. I’m a human being.
delicioustacos 
“Your homies? I’m looking at you, sweetie.”
》 big Oakland Raiders sticker
Human scum. Case closed.
Not even a basic description of the two whores?? Wtf, man.
Amen to those last three sentences.
Well, what you should have done is put some fear in him. Sorry, it’s just the country we live in now.
you’re a writer, not a fighter. that’s why this blogpoast exists, instead of your mugshot on the 6 o’clock news. let’s imagine you beat the shit out of that fake-blonde spic. most likely you would get away with it. or perhaps the 2 whores film it on their phones, and the cops catch you later. never know. odds. but just imagine, the headline: “white male arrested for beating up unarmed mexican man near peaceful pond”. it would create more problems in your life. it would not be profitable. it would not put more shekels into your bank of goymerica account. it would not increase the amount of chainlink you own.
but yes, you would have gotten to feel like a man, the raw and primal nature of natural masculine existence. one or both of the whores probably would have gotten wet. you could have probably even banged one or both of them later and convince them to delete the video. but hey, you’re a beta male pussy liberal blogger. it’s OK. accept what you are. a peaceful existence is boring, but it’s definitely better than being in county jail, with bail set at $200k. we don’t live in the wild anymore. we live in some fraudulent soft society where you immediately get arrested for any act of aggression. thus, even though you wanted to express your rage, you couldn’t do so without taking on immense risk.
you’ve lived in LA long enough to know that mexicans will try to pick a fight over nuffin. just let it go. not worth it. you’re a wealthy self-published author now. you have a lot to lose if the slightest thing goes wrong. or you have a lot to gain if you continue making smart moves. this is not advice. just some stupid rambling.
in other words: pee pee, poo poo.
thank you
He mogged you by having 2 hot young women by his side, whilst you had zero. To make matters worse, you were wearing a check shirt and pecking at your keyboard like a nerd. Using a laptop in outdoor scenarios looks weird and geekish. If you must write outdoors, it’s more acceptable to use pen and paper. It doesn’t matter if you are stronger, smarter, more e-famous and have higher number o’ federal reserve notes than him. In that exact moment, he was infinitely cooler than you, younger, more natural, and seemed “more fun” to the roasties. Let this be a learning experience. Next time you’re at the pond, wear a wifebeater, chain smoke, appreciate the birds, the scenery. And if some punk kid so much as looks at you wrong or says something unkind, lose your temper immediately and beat his ass. Pretend he’s one of your annoying male commenters. Then be prepared to run lest you be caught for felony assault.
The real reason not to fight california mexicans, blonde hair or not, is they’ll call their family. You wouldn’t be able to go back to that park for 6 months without looking over your shoulder.
I don’t usually think black girls is beautiful. But when Emerald got in the Uba I just about fell in love. I didn’t think the feeling was possible no more. I’m 45 years old with a wife and kid, and I was takin an Uba cuz I took the 66 bus down to Dedham that day from Boston to get my kid’s iPad fixed at this good cheap place down in Dedham. Now I had to be back on my way to Boston to visit my buddy at the hospital, he’s not doing great. About six munts ago my buddy Roger there got diagnosed with cansa which hit everyone hard. He was my buddy. About three munts ago it seemed like things were dyin down but it flared back up big time. Doctors say now he’s only got two weeks. He looks real different. He was my business partner for 30 years.
Emerald was stunning. I knew her name cuz it tells you the name on the app. I couldn’t tell how old she was but she sat in the front seat cuz I was sitting in the back. She had long beautiful hair and big beautiful eyes, and was texting the whole time. The thing is, I was born just north of Dedham, Mass outside of Needham, Massachusetts where my mother resides to this day, and I recognized the area Emerald was getting dropped off at. It was a rainy evening, it had been a very windy few days in Boston the last week, and she lived at the end of a culvasack where I tried to remember if I had ever been before.
Sometimes I really wonder what girls text about. I couldn’t see what she was saying, just that she was typin fast. Meanwhile I’m over here playing children’s reading games in the backseat! I never look at the thing except when my kid asks to download something, but cuz it was kinda a long ride I figured I’d take a look at what he’s actually doing on it. A lot of the games were pretty fun, actually, and I have to say I was enjoying myself.