Read The Douchebag Bible Online
Authors: TJ Kirk
who lives far away, and I love her as well. There’s
more. Different people—not all girls—whom I have
varying levels of affection for and attraction to. I find
things I can love in all of them.
What attracts me to a person? Damage?
Darkness? Yes, those are factors. No one sane and
healthy could ever give me the sort of affection I
need or desire. I’m not a simple man. I’m not a
normal soul who can content himself with the
mechanics of standard human sex acts. Nor can my
dreams be talked to sleep by the superficial kinks
peddled to the masses. I have needs that rage in me
like a volcano that will not go inactive until it bathes
the entire world in its molten lava.
But Holly is the undisputed sun in my solar
system. She is the center. She is the object with the
greatest gravitational force. I revolve around her.
5. SUPER FAMOUS PERSON
Anyone who knows me knows that I hate one place
on earth more than any other: and that place is Wal-
Mart. I only go there if there’s simply no other choice.
One time, I am standing in the Wal-Mart
check out line, holding whatever accursed thing I've
ventured in to purchase. Part of me (most of me, if
I'm honest) wants to just throw the money at the
cashier, scream “Keep the change!” and run.
It is at that moment that the strangest looking
human being that I’ve ever seen walks up to me and
stands a mere two inches away. He looks up at me
(he’s short) and says, “Amazing Atheist?” His voice
is reedy. His breath stinks. He looks like a vastly
uglier version of Steve Buscemi crossbred with a
newborn bird.
“Yeah,” I say. “That’s me.”
“Fan,” he says, sticking out his gaunt hand for
a shake.
To be polite, I take it. It feels cold, like the hand
of a corpse.
Then he walks away, leaving me to wonder if
he was a real person or a ghostly apparition that
chose that moment to fart forth from the
ectoplasmic sphincter of hell to confound me with
his presence for a moment. He never said more than
those three words to me.
Encountering fans isn't always that strange,
but it's always at least a little strange. Some people
just want to say hi or get a handshake. Others want
pictures. No one has ever wanted an autograph
before. I have been interrupted mid-meal before,
however, by a Christian. Do unto others? Peh.
Would he like some stranger interrupting his dinner
to debate him? I think not. I was polite to him, but I
was not obligated to be by circumstance, since he
was being extremely rude to me by disrupting my
meal and my conversation with my friends.
There was another guy in a laundromat who
shook my hand when he recognized me, but
immediately said in a very sour voice that he was not
a fan of my work. I shrugged and said I was sorry to
hear that. He later wrote about how I must be trailer
trash because I was at the laundromat—I guess he
forgot that the only reason he knew that was because
he was there too.
6. INSOMNIAC
Some strange shit happens when you go for a long
time without sleep. Sounds get deeper. And I don’t
mean deep like Leonard Cohen’s voice, I mean deep
like the ocean. The sounds feel like they are
threatening to encompass you. And they feel farther
away.
Another odd thing: my head always feels like
it’s wherever it
was
, as opposed to wherever it
is
. I
feel like my sense of my own head's position is on a
three second delay. So, intellectually, I know my
head is in position B, but my gut tells me that it’s still
in position A—even though position A was seconds
ago.
This too is strange: everything is boring, even
if it’s not. When you're sleep-deprived you can be
excited, and bored with your excitement at the same
time. Bored excitement. Dull fervor.
And strange thoughts!
7. NOISY NEIGHBOR
I used to have a neighbor named Bo who was insane
about noise. Now, before you decide that I’m an
incredibly loud and inconsiderate person who is just
unaware of what a douche bag I am, let me make my
case.
The first problem I had with him was when I
was watching a Nostalgia Critic video late at night
with my friend, Galen. At first, we were watching the
video fairly loudly, so I didn’t begrudge my neighbor
for tapping on his ceiling (he lived below me) to get
me to shut up. After I turned it down, his banging
continued. So I turned it down even more. To the
point where even I could barely hear it over the
sound of my my own breath.
My asshole neighbor came upstairs and
banged on my door, demanding that I turn the
sound off or he would call the police. I told him,
“Fuck you. Call the police.” And he did! The police
showed up. They told me to keep it down. I told them
that I was keeping it down, but my neighbor was just
a lunatic.
A few months later, my landlord called me and
told me to shut my toilet lid more gently, because Bo
was complaining that the momentary *clack* of the
toilet lid closing was profoundly disturbing to him. I
started shutting the lid softer, since it was clear at
this point that my landlord was taking my neighbor's
side.
Bo also complained if I walked too loudly (or
walked at all too late at night.)