>>> Casual Misanthropy
By staff writer JD Rebello

November 15, 2006

1. Realtors

During my jobless summer, I pondered doing a number of crap jobs to pay the bills. I considered being a courier, a bartender and a realtor. Being a realtor looked interesting; I’d make some decent coin (yup, coin), and hey, everyone needs a place to live. It’s like the one market, other than alcohol and the Guatemalan slave trade, that won’t go down.

Then I made the mistake of utilizing a realtor to find a new apartment. Here’s how the dialogue went.

Realtor fuck: So, what kind of place are you looking for?
Cute me: A 2-bedroom.
Realtor fuck
: And how much would you like to spend?
Cute me
: Oh, around $600 per person.
Realtor fuck
: Well, I have a 3-bedroom for about $1,000 per person.
Cute me
: Yeah see, I’m looking for a 2-bedroom.
Realtor fuck
: I’ve got a great 1-bedroom.
Cute me
: That doesn’t really help. Because I’ve got a roommate.
Realtor fuck
: Have you ever shared a bed with a man?
Cute me
: Pardon?
Realtor fuck: How about a 4-bedroom for $800 per person?

“Why would anyone ever wait in line for a bar? If you live in like, Maine, and the only bar is some dude spooning a lobster, fine.”

You know how women complain men don’t listen? Well, realtors are like men for people looking for a place to live. I’m trying to express my feelings and this dipshit is too busy getting drunk and watching football and offering me bullshit apartments outside my price range to listen. And just like men, realtors are only interested in screwing you.

You know why else I could never be a realtor? I have a hard time being fake. This kid at work reads my column and thus, always tries to be funny when I’m around. I know he’s not like this all the time, because, well, someone would have jammed a spoon in his colon. But he’s not funny, and I’m too damned tired to pretend he’s funny. The reason I’m telling you this is, if something sucks, I like to be able to say, “Boy, that sucks.” So when a realtor shows me an apartment that looks like a dry-walled asshole and says, “This place is fantastic,” I’m in awe. Imagine being able to keep such a straight face. Realtors must kick so much ass in poker.

Even worse, is it possible for a male realtor to actually act like a man? Every realtor I’ve ever had puts more gel in his hair than a 1980’s lounge singer, dresses like a mannequin at Express, and seems like he’d flip out if he saw a spider. I’m not saying I’m the definition of manliness, (I’m the same person who sobs uncontrollably at the end of Homeward Bound) but come on. If I’m going to purchase an apartment that I intend to use as a bachelor pad (shut up), I’d like it to be sold by someone who would also use such an apartment in such a manner. That’s why guys get apartments. But if a realtor looks like he’s going to use the apartment to host wine-tastings and Oprah’s Book Club, it throws me off. It’s like a paraplegic trying to sell you hockey equipment. How does he know if it works?

2. Bouncers

Listen, bars need security. They need big bald guys, preferably black, because blacks are scarier. They need someone who, if some drunken collar-popping khaki-stain decides to puke all over my shoes, can toss Captain Abercrombie onto the sidewalk like yesterday’s trash.

What they don’t need is some asswipe with a God complex to give me shit about having an out-of-state ID. Bouncers sure seem to think highly of themselves for a position in which the most important professional qualities are man-tits and gigantism.

I also shouldn’t have to watch them flirt with girls who are only interested in them to get inside and scream into their cell phones how cool it is that the bouncer let them in, even though they’re only 14. I hate that shit.

And not for nothing, is it asking too much for a bouncer to know how to spot a fake? As opposed to fascist bullshit rules like not taking out-of-state IDs or requiring more forms of identification than it takes to hunt an eagle as I am, I’m tired of being asked to do everything but poo in a cup to enter a bar and drink overpriced beer.

Also, move the fucking line along. I have a few rules about bars:

-I don’t pay covers unless there’s live music.
-I don’t go anywhere that doesn’t allow jeans.
-I don’t go anywhere that has a separate cover for girls.
-And most importantly, I don’t wait in line because that makes you look ridiculous.

Why would anyone ever wait in line for a bar or club? If you live in like, Maine, and the only bar is some dude spooning a lobster with that strangely addictive Paris Hilton song playing in the background, fine, if that’s the place to be. But if you live in an area with a real life populous, then every bar is the same: loud, shitty music; overpriced beer; a few skanky girls; a lot of asshole guys.

So if every bar is the same, why stand in line, when if you walk around enough, you’re gold? In Boston, the hellish nightmare that is Foggy Goggle (think flat-chested Coyote Ugly) frequently has a line, whereas neighboring Pour House, with a better beer selection, less obnoxious clientele, and no cover is easier to get into than Nicole Richie’s underpants. Am I missing something? Why would anyone wait in line for Suck, when Just Fine is open to the public? Fascinating culture we live in.

3. People Who Work at Blockbuster

First off, if you care about movies, stay the fuck away from Blockbuster. I find it astonishingly depressing that the Big Blue has no qualms about devoting an entire shelf to Fast and the Furious: Tokyo Nitrous Alpha-Male Gaydom, but if you’re interested in any kind of intelligent movie, you’ve got a better chance of finding a championship banner in the RCA Dome.

Blockbuster, you may recall, is the same shitshow that once promised no late fees, then snuck in the fine print that if you’re over a week late, they charge you for the whole tape. That’s neat. That’s like saying if you’re caught with weed you won’t get arrested, but if they find you with a bong, they’ll sentence you to death.

But the people who work at Blockbuster are a special brand of eccentric problem children. Maybe I’m asking too much, but don’t comment on my renting choices. Especially when Blockbuster clerks are predominantly film-school dropouts who were rejected from being the dolly grip on a Tim Allen Christmas comedy and their lives have been spiraling out of control ever since.

True story. A few months ago, I rented A History of Violence, one of the best films I’ve seen in a long while. As I rented it, the guy told me he felt it was boring and stupid. First off, it’s never a bright idea to criticize the merchandise. People at McDonald’s don’t tell me they farted on my Big Mac. Second, this was the same douche-hole who told me Hostel was a masterpiece. Hostel sucked. And I don’t want your crappy opinion. I read Roger Ebert and the phenomenal Hollywood Bitchslap website for my movie knowledge. I’m going to trust actual film critics, not a pretentious louse making $6.50 an hour. I know which movies are and aren’t worth seeing.

Granted, a majority of renters are keeping Ryan Reynolds’ career moving right along, so maybe somebody should guide them. And that’s why I recommend the aforementioned sites. For three minutes of your time, you can learn why certain movies suck ass and certain movies are worth seeing.

Everyone wonders why movies suck nowadays? Easy. Because people are retarded and say things like, “John Tucker must die? JD Rebello must see!” It’s all supply and demand. If good movies like Thank You For Smoking are making bank and piles of dogshit like Little Man are allowed to make next to nothing, Hollywood will rationalize that it makes more sense to make good movies.

4. People Who Actually Care about the Israeli-Palestinian Conflict

Honestly, I’m so tired of the Middle East. I’m tired of having to have my bottom stretched open at the airport on the off-chance I crammed some C4 up there. I’m tired of our gas prices being ridiculously high because they don’t want to share. I’m tired of us tolerating a culture that promotes genital mutilation and placing women on a totem pole somewhere between toilet bugs and malignant tumors.

But most of all, I’m tired of this debate. Can someone get these assholes into a room and say, “Listen, your religion is swell, but not everyone is going to believe it, and why don’t you just celebrate your faith instead of being territorial dumbasses bitching and moaning?”

Seriously, Israelis and Palestinians rank somewhere intellectually along the lines of a brother and sister on a long road trip bitching because the other one is “on their side.” Get a fucking life. That goes for the rest of the Middle East. Get a life. Stop trying to scare us because you failed as a society. That’s not our fault. The Middle East has been around for seven thousand years and look at you. The United States, by comparison, has needed less than 400 years to become THE world superpower.

And there’s a reason for that. We downplay our religion. We accept people being Catholic or Jewish or Buddhist or Scientologist (okay, maybe not Scientologist because Scientologists are flaming retards). Every semblance of a problem we’ve ever faced has been dealt with because we allow for an open discourse. Yes, there are some shitty parts, (Fox News and Janeane Garofalo come to mind) but would anyone like to trade that to go find a 2-bedroom in fuckdamn Tehran? Show of hands? Anyone? Bueller?

But still, a country that places such emphasis on religion is going to fail. And do you know why? Because not everybody believes in your religion! Religion is up for interpretation. Some people think Jesus hates gays. Other people think Jesus is more concerned with rapists and serial killers and presidents disgracing the Bible in his name. If you’re going to be so stringent with your faith, then why bother? Religion is supposed to make you feel good about yourself.

I went to Catholic school. I believe in Jesus and Heaven and the Bible. But if a Hindu came up to me and said Vishnu is the real God, I’d say, “I humbly disagree.” Then we’d drink beer and I’d whomp his ass in Madden. It’s not rocket science.

5. Boston Red Sox Fans

I used to believe Red Sox fans were the smartest, most passionate fans in baseball. Then I took a job with the sports section of a major newspaper in Boston. It’s entirely possible Red Sox fans are still the best, but only if fans in other stadiums are throwing feces at each other to celebrate a home run.

Hey, you know where I stand. They’re my favorite team. 2004 was the best year of my life for a damned good reason. But you know what? I like the Dave Matthews Band, too. Would you really want to be crammed into a stadium with 50,000 DMB fans? I’d rather lick the urinal at a strip joint.

So here is my plea to all Sox fans, or more specifically, fake Sox fans: Stop caring about the Yankees. At least once a day in April I’d get the following phone call at work: “What is the Red Sox record? What is the Yankees record?” Hey douchebag, it’s April. They play a 162-game season. I did some research, and no team in baseball history has ever clinched a division in April. Ever. I know, I’m shocked too, that 135 games can make adifference. And if the Yankees aren’t near you in the standings, stop worrying about them. Yes, they’re our rivals, and yes, they’re our biggest competition, but you sound like a douche.

And furthermore, stop being from New York. If you’re from New York and Manny Ramirez didn’t save your cat from a fire, you can’t root for the Red Sox. End of story. Hey, the same goes for New Englanders. If you’re born and raised in New England, you’re a Red Sox fan. Yes, even you on-the-fence assholes from Connecticut.

Also, lose the pink hats. Honestly.

Listen, I love the Red Sox, even as the team finished this past season with all the competence of a special needs debate team. But as a diehard Red Sox and baseball fan, I implore these people to stop embarrassing the rest of us.

In June, ESPN floated a ridiculous trade rumor in which the Padres would trade ace pitcher Jake Peavy to the Sox for old and overpaid Mike Lowell. Worse, many Red Sox fans thought that was a legitimate rumor. Even worse, many Sox fans thought that was a bad deal, for the Red Sox!

I love this team, and I love Boston. But geesh. Granted, we’re nowhere near as bad as the mustachioed assholes who jumped on the Bronx bandwagon at an early age because “the Yankees always won.” And yes, it’s great that we’re not the scags in Oakland or Miami who can’t support a solid young team. Granted, we’re still better than any other cocksmoking bandwagon fest like the Braves or Angels. But we’re getting close. Let’s try to set an example.