By Craig P. Dixon, southcoast247.com correspondent Social Commentary 71
August 15th, 2006
Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to this week’s Craig Cares. I’m Craig Dixon.
Seems I missed the old deadline this past week. Instead of giving you, my
readership, stupid excuses, I’ll tell you the damned truth: I’m a
26-year-old single man living on Martha’s Vineyard during the summertime. I
spend my days and nights working indoors, dealing with a bunch of shitfaced
drunks, and every free chance I get, I’m at the beach. Unless it’s raining
out: Then I’ll spend the whole day inside at the laptop.
And it hasn’t really rained out here during the day since June.
Furthermore, when I head to the beach, the laptop stays at home. Circa 2002
electronics just aren’t fond of sand and saltwater.
And generally, the old pad and paper stays home, too. I may bring a copy of
the ever elusive Vineyard novel to the beach and do some editing, but that’s
it.
There’s just too much to look at for me to keep my attention on writing. I
feel like a kid going to some gigantic amusement park for the first time
when I’m at the beach: Just which of these phenomenal attractions do I want
to ride first?
But there’s one thing about this year’s beach season that’s absolutely
pissed me off. It’s the goddamned trend among ladies to wear ridiculously
oversized sunglasses. I believe that lousy, fishy vaginal discharge known as
Paris Hilton started the trend.
Here’s to hoping she comes to some terrible, untimely end.
The damned things are about a quarter the size of a broad’s face. They cover
up just about everything, and nearly every girl looks hot in them.
Especially when she’s walking the beach in tiny strips of cloth, barely wide
enough to hide nipples and asses and what-have-you.
Everyone on the beach is checking this girl out. Guys are looking at her
because they want to have her. Girls are attempting to size up the
competition.
Then she chooses a spot on the beach, lays down, and when she rolls onto her
belly to work on sunning the back, the glasses come off.
Whoa! Her eyeballs are an eighth the size of the shades’ lenses, and the
truth is revealed. What lay beneath those stupid, alienhead sunglasses is
now on display, and every guy that was checking her out realizes the brutal
truth:
She’s not hot. The body is pretty nice, but upon close inspection of the
face it comes to the attention of all that she resembles some barnyard
animal that wallows in its own shit and piss.
Sweet.
So ladies, cut out the bullshit. I’m onto you. You’re just trying to lure
unsuspecting guys into your awful webs of deceit, hoping to pull the old
black widow trap at the last possible second.
These glasses could be the worst invention in the history of mankind. I call
upon everyone, for the sake of the world, to step upon, snap in half, hell,
use any method available to destroy as many pairs of these stupid sunglasses
that you can.
The world is counting on you.
Seems I missed the old deadline this past week. Instead of giving you, my
readership, stupid excuses, I’ll tell you the damned truth: I’m a
26-year-old single man living on Martha’s Vineyard during the summertime. I
spend my days and nights working indoors, dealing with a bunch of shitfaced
drunks, and every free chance I get, I’m at the beach. Unless it’s raining
out: Then I’ll spend the whole day inside at the laptop.
