Douche of the Day: Busybodies

“We’ve met twice.” I was told that by a Busybody the other day who’s name I had forgotten, no wait, HADN’T even bothered to commit to memory…there is a difference. She was a Busybody, not busy as in American Farmer or Autoworker, sewing Patriotism and growing Freedom, busy as in…they just busy themselves up with problems of their own creation all day.

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“We’ve met twice.” I was told that by a Busybody the other day who’s name I had forgotten, no wait, HADN’T even bothered to commit to memory…there is a difference. She was a Busybody, not busy as in American Farmer or Autoworker, sewing Patriotism and growing Freedom, busy as in…they just busy themselves up with problems of their own creation all day. Don’t tell me how many times you’ve met me. You shouldn’t have that memorized, you shouldn’t have that kind of time. What if both times sucked? There’s such a thing as “in passing.” Did we spend Christmas together? Did you save me from drowning? No? We were briefly introduced and it was very insignificant because, like you, I’m mostly concerned with myself. She was a forgettable friend of a friend, and needed a favor. Hey, Busybody, I don’t need to hear the history of you and the phone company, just ask me if you can use my phone, I don’t give a shit if you’re calling in a ransom. I can tell why you get terrible customer service, because you suck, I don’t want to help you and I’m a FOOT away. But you’re a busybody, so you have to create your own drama all day long, because otherwise, what would keep you busy? Am I right?

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