There’s nothing quite as obnoxious as someone in the back of the bus
playing an acoustic guitar, strumming away and only singing fragments
of songs because they can’t remember the lyrics. They think they’re
Jack fucking Johnson, and they end up looking like the smuggest
douchebag in Portland. I would rather have a masturbating bum next to
me than you. It only gets worse when they open that big mouth of theirs
to everyone within earshot about how great a musician they are, and how
their cousin is in the philharmonic. You made my day though, random
TriMet jerkoff. When I publicly called you out on your shit while you
were bragging about playing 22 instruments, you and the idiots you were
talking to went silent for the rest of the bus ride, with you
occasionally telling people next to you about how you don’t care, and
how that didn’t make you mad. Don’t worry, you can nurse your giant ego
on the next bus ride where you surround yourself with gullible idiots
who buy your shit. Right after you sign that record deal you bragged
about in LA. Scum like you belong in the common hall of a college dorm,
where I won’t get thrown off TriMet for smashing your
guitar. —Anonymous

4 replies on “I, Anonymous”

  2. What is weird or creepy about that? People’s crotches itch. People are bums.

  3. hmmmm. this doesn’t warrant an I, Anonymous. Oooooo! A bad musician braggart on the bus! What pain, what suffering. If you called the person out on the bus, why are you writing about it here? To satisfy your ego a bit more, hmmm?

  4. ok, so you “called the guy out.” Big freakin’ deal, Poncho. I got news for you. The people kept quiet the rest of the bus ride because they were all staring at you as if you had douchebag written in shit on your forehead. I can’t believe the whininess of people these days. I, Anonymous should be reserved for people who stick things in friends’ butts while they are sleeping, and absolutely shameful shit like that.

Comments are closed.