After a rather depressing trip to the Ozarks, I have returned willingly to the District, which, after a sweet bike ride that took me on some even sweeter trails out to Old Town Alexandria yesterday, I'm starting to enjoy even more. Yeah, I've gone soft. Suck it.
Or have I? See, despite the fun I had on my escapade into Virginia, I returned to my hyperbaric chamber last night only to be e-greeted by some jerk who had to ruin it for me. Or at least e-ruin it. Please to peep this email I received from someone named "Grade Nation" regarding an essay I posted on a Virginia gun show last spring:
"Wow. What an enlightened, non-partisan review of the gun show. The way that you zoomed in on the purest of superficial was awe-inspring [sic]. You felt uncomfortable, huh. Yeah, I'll bet. It's helps [sic] to know that you're the type to talk about someone behind their [sic] back. Really puts the sparkle in your shining character, so obvious in all it's [sic] many qualities."
Since I'm pretty much legally retarded, I thought this was a nice piece of fanmail at first. I mean, that post was a rather "enlightened, non-partisan review of a gun show," if I don't say so myself. Not that I need to prove anything (it's more an effort to simply blatantly repeat myself) but just check out this snippet from my most enlightened, non-partisan of posts:
"[W]hen I tried to document my experience at the gun show, one of the many men with unusually bushy facial hair threatened to lynch me: 'No photos in here! That's the quickest way to get kicked out and arrested!' Oh Dale City, Virginia! It's the only place I've ever been where shooting a gun is totally fine, but shooting a camera will get your 'arrested.' How fitting."
That's not just descriptively enlightened and non-partisan, but it's definitional of the two words! However, as I read Mr. (or Mrs. or Ms. or Dr., I suppose) Nation's missive further, I slowly started to realize that perhaps he (or she) wasn't writing to congratulate me on being born with such keen observational skills. Nope, as I read further, I began to realize that perhaps the entirety of this piece of misdirected fanmail was cloaked in a sheath of sarcasm (and bad grammar, although that was evident quite early on). I mean, while I admit my ability to "zoom in on the superficial" is indeed "awe-inspring" [sic on purpose], I believe Mr./Mrs./Ms./Dr. Nation's e-tone to be one of snark. And while my personality is indubitably and objectively as sparkly as they get, I do believe this Nation (who, mind you, I've never met, corresponded with or even knew existed before last night) tried to insinuate the opposite through the usage of one of my favorite literary devices! Karma, you are a vicious bitch!
But despite my realization that this wasn't an e-love letter after all, I still didn't cry myself to sleep (although that could be because tears are not conducive to the rest of my circuitry and wires). Instead, I chose to err on the side of optimism and focused on the bright (or at least less dim) side of Nation's epistle. Hey, at least he (or she) read my post completely, which means I must be doing something right! I mean, Nation really paid attention to what I wrote! How else would he (or she) know I'm the type to talk behind people's backs? I wrote it to in an effort to put into perspective just how awkward I felt at said gun show!
"That says a lot because I've been in some pretty dang awkward situations. I've cried at work (awkward!); I've been caught talking sh*t about someone who ended up being within earshot just feet behind me (really awkward!); and, of course, I once got mistook for a Eastern European streetwalker by whom I thought was a regular gypsy cab driver, which resulted in me having to roll out of the moving vehicle (super-MacGyver-style awkward!).*"
That's pretty flattering that this Grade Nation read my post so closely before insulting me from so e-far away. "It's helps" (zing!) also knowing that those who e-dislike me have specific reasons, which is often more than I can say for people who dislike me in real life, since every single holy manifestation you can think of knows that once you meet me in person you automatically love me forever. It's just the way of the world.
So, Mr./Mrs./Ms./Dr. Nation, I propose we set up a tête-à-tête and if the sparkle exuded from my shining personality doesn't blind you with joy (or simply char your retinas), then we can move on to a good old-fashioned duel. Just give me a minute to snatch up a couple of pistols from the back of Jim Bob's freedom-painted pick-up and it'll be on. Or, we can always set up an old-timey monkey knife fight. I'll let you choose, but that last option...well, let's just say it's a win-win.
*By the way, for a complete account of said MacGyver-style shambles, click here.