Sunday, April 18


Something I hate with a passion: Stupid little fuckers who think they are so hardcore.

By hardcore, we're talking about little white boys (and yeah, sometimes little black and Mexi boys, too) in hicksville running around thinking they're all ghetto. Dude, no. Give it up. I'm also talking about your general Avril Lavigne look-a-likes and other dumbass "punk RAWK"ers.

Hardcore is this and this and this. Maybe a little here and here and here.

Hardcore is not hanging around in the one lone baseball field around your expensive trailer park in the middle of nowhere and laughing at the people in the aforementioned links. "Fucking faggots," says one of them.

Toby and I pause our imaginary baseball game and look in their direction. "This is fucking [name of hicktown], boys," I say.

Toby says, "You aren't as hardcore as you think you are."

We roll our eyes, and go back to the game.

They approach, rather predictably.

Toby says, "Go ahead and fuck with us. I'll put your asses in jail so fast you won't even know what happened."

Yeah right, fuckin' pansy, they say.

"Go for it, champion," Toby says to the ringleader. "Let's see how tough you little white boys are. How long do you think you'll last in jail?" Pause, while they walk closer. "You are aware," Toby says (maybe bluffing, maybe not), "that there are some very clear laws about hate crimes? And if you attack us because we are fags, I will make it very clear to a judge that it was your intent to kill us?" They look confused, Toby says, "Go away." They do.

We wonder aloud if the boys realize yet that their new neighbors across the street are gay. And decide it'll be even more entertaining when they do--because Phil is huge.

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