Reminder that Anthony Cumia thinks he’s better than you.

[Mick_Mickerson]

No matter how rich Ant is, a middle aged man dunking on a twenty something is pathetic.

You don't think the orthodontist in your town or the guy who owns a Toyota dealership gets in hysterical arguments with 20 year olds and brags about the fact he has a pool, drives a nice car and can afford to go out to dinner?

 

[satanssockpuppet]

TWENTY PLUS YEARS LATER AND I'm still commuting to
Manhattan from Long Island, or vice versa. And it's
still the best time for me to reflect and dream.
I now have the good fortune to drive an insanely fast, ex
pensive brand-new Jaguar F -Type. Every single time I sit in
this car, it reminds me of my dick size.
I was recently driving back after my show to my house in
Long Island, and I saw an Apollo Air Conditioning van
ahead of me on the Long Island Expressway. It was the
same piece of shit I used to drive when I worked there. I im
mediately had this impulse to catch up to it and see the guy
driving it.

I could literally see, smell, and feel what it was like to be
that guy driving back from some thankless shit job in NYC.
I caught up and looked out my passenger window, and I
saw the driver of the van.This guy looked just miserable. He
had the hat and uniform on. I have to give him major props
for that, because I rarely ever wore either. I was never the
company-guy type.

The driver of the van was looking out his windshield with
an almost dead stare at the road. I could only imagine what
was going on in his mind. I knew damn well it wasn't
Apollo Air Conditioning. He had some dream, some other
thing than driving that van that he rather would have been
doing. I fucking empathized with this guy I didn't even know, but I did at the same time.
He and I were in such different worlds at this point. He
had no idea that the guy next to him in the brand-new
exotic sports car used to be him. I was that guy!
I'm not saying I'm better than this guy, because I'm not.
I'm just saying I can relate, and when I saw his face, it
brought me right back to where I used to be. I know that
when I was sitting where he was, I wanted to be something
different. The odds that someone will get out of that situ
ation are astronomical, but I did.

This young air-conditioning guy turned his head and saw
me looking at him. I gave him a nod, and he flipped me the
finger. I then stomped on the gas and took off at about 120
miles per hour, never looking back-only forward, mother
fucker!

Jesus, this is so poorly-written and stupid. No imagination whatsoever. "I saw a truck from my old job. I thought about how I used to work there. I'm rich now. I sped past it and laughed"...wow, compelling stuff, you drunken old queer. Too bad this chapter didn't end with Nana being decapitated by a guardrail.

 

[THE D]

Jesus, this is so poorly-written and stupid. No imagination whatsoever. "I saw a truck from my old job. I thought about how I used to work there. I'm rich now. I sped past it and laughed"...wow, compelling stuff, you drunken old queer. Too bad this chapter didn't end with Nana being decapitated by a guardrail.

Auntie's book was 8th grade reading level. Uneventful, fact-of-the-matter, nondescript re-tellings that sound more like bullet points. There is no humor. He just straight up explained himself like a wikipedia article, but written in the first person. And missing a lot of moments and context.

 

[satanssockpuppet]

Auntie's book was 8th grade reading level. Uneventful, fact-of-the-matter, nondescript re-tellings that sound more like bullet points. There is no humor. He just straight up explained himself like a wikipedia article, but written in the first person. And missing a lot of moments and context.

"It was 3AM, and there I was, wandering around Times Square by myself. I knew it was risky, but that night, I had an itch my anal egg just couldn't scratch. I needed the real thing, and it had to be tranny cock, so at least it wasn't full-on, 100% gay. That would come later, but at that time, I was still just beginning to sow my burgeoning bottom queen oats.

Then I spotted one. She was a fucking nigger, but I figured it'd be dark, and she'd be behind me anyway. Plus I knew there was a better than fair chance she was hung like a horse, and I was increasingly cock-starved. I reached into my pocket and began fondling my wad of cash, then I approached her."

"How much to top me for an hour?" I squealed.

"What did you say, motherfucker?"

I instantly knew I'd made a mistake. She was no tranny. She was just a woman, a bung rot, stink bitch nigger whore. "Um, I thought you were someone else" I shyly squeaked.

"YOU THOUGHT I WAS ONE OF THESE TRANNY FUCKING WHORES? YOU WHITE FAGGOT! I SHOULD FUCKING KILL YOU!" she screamed, and began hitting me with her bag. I cowered away, but she kept swinging and screaming "faggot" over and over. As I tried to ward off her blows, from the corner of my eye, I could see a group or three or four other FNs. They were pointing and laughing at me. My ears burned hot with shame as I finally scurried away from the negress, with the FN's derisive laughter ringing in my ears. "That wasn't even their show" I sniffed through my tears, as I ran home, totally humiliated and shamed.

I got back to my apartment, ate two Xanax bars, and washed them down with a cold Bud Light. Then, just like my father, I became angry in hindsight, furious over the humiliation I suffered. Then a horrible thought crossed my mind...what if that FN recognized me, and told the world I mistook her for a tranny prostitute?

Quaking with rage, I opened my Twitter app, and launched a preemptive strike that would forever alter my career and future. "BUNG ROT FUCK NIGGER STINK CUNT THAT'S WHAT SHE WAS!" I tweeted, in a delirious panic-stricken rage. Within hours I was no longer a radio jock, and never would be again"

That's how the book should have started. Tell me you wouldn't keep reading after that.

 

[DMbA]