the carpenter

Posts by Anthony

he walks with a cross to bear,

nailed to hammer and nails

by name and profession.

his structures susceptible

to time and change,

yet the weight of eternity

can’t bear his presence.

when the sun hung

its last rays in the day,

they called his name,

while all his tools laid to rest.

An Open Letter to the Rude Fat Lady at Starbucks

Posts by Anthony

Dear Fat Fuck,

I first caught glimpse of your enormity while sitting in the Starbucks cafe within a Barnes and Noble bookstore.  Your four chins were addressing a young girl who was doing her best to make your sugar-coated fat-girl drink (with soy milk of course – we must watch our health!)

It seems in your mentioned five-year attendance, “no one” ever charged you for soy.  Well, I call shenanigans.  I’ve (raises nose) been frequenting Starbucks/Barnes cafes (not to be mistaken for standalone Starbucks – different savings card, bitches!) for at least ten years, so there.  I used to order soy in my coffees and got charged each. time.  If you raised your fat fucking head and chins above eye level, you’d see there’s the price for added soy right there on the big fucking sign that says ‘Cafe Menu.’

You grew loud, almost crying (maybe talking is exhausting for you) to point out you (now) did not want to pay for the drink, based solely on the fact that you were being “ripped off.”

You were ripped off, fat girl. The agreeable and happy life your thin self would of had was robbed and eaten by the bulging, misanthropic piece of shit you see before you each morning in the mirror.

It sucks.  I know.  I’m emotionally intelligent.  I don’t go around bragging about it, but I can smell shit before it emanates from the ever-hungry mouths of people like yourself.  You’re sad…you’re fat.  So, rather than turn that disappointment inward or take it out on your pizza with extra sausage and cheese, you lash outward.

After mentioning you did not want it, you couldn’t help but focus your fat face on the already-made drink.  Your stomach spoke up.  “We did get ripped off $.50 for soy, but fuck it.  I want that syrupy deliciousness, you bitch.  Just pay the girl at the counter and give it to me!”

I’m a moody bitch myself, usually too busy making sarcastic statements in my head, but you awoke the slumbering, oft-disinterested dragon inside me.  My dragon prefers fresh vegetables and fruits, which does well for my body shape, but I digress.

I waltzed up to the counter.  Another woman, standing behind your enormous ass (in yoga pants for added grossness), grew irritated, storming out of the cafe and the front door of Barnes and Noble.  B&N can’t afford to lose customers, you fat ass, especially in the middle of an early lunch rush.

While your imbecile brain debated whether to save yourself $.50 or gobble that shit down, the young girl did her best to appease you.  You grew increasingly disrespectful and irritated your fat cells were screaming for company.

You anxiously watched as the young girl stirred in added syrup.  Somehow, the fat cascading down from your forehead over your eyes cleared enough so you could see the girl’s finger tips (may have) touched the top of your drink.

Now, there was even more reason to take your fatness out on the young girl.  As you said, “I can’t believe this. I don’t want it now.  Hurry up and charge my card back the money so I can pick up my daughter at school.  She’s waiting for me.”

Bitch, I assure you that your daughter can wait a few more minutes.  Maybe even do some jumping jacks or run in place while she waits for you.  To no one’s surprise (your fat ass had everyone’s attention within ear shot now), you started barking at the girl for taking too much time to charge your card back, making a carping remark about her intelligence and then asking to speak to a manager.

When the manager arrived, you greedily took the opportunity to make the worker look bad, telling her manager she was rude and could not understand simple suggestion.  Really? Here are some simple suggestions your sausage-fingered-mind cannot grasp.

- Stop fucking eating.

- Then, you wouldn’t hate yourself so much and take it out whenever your broken and overworked heart felt like it.

- Try it. (Seriously- I’m trying to help you help yourself.)

After looking upon you with added disgust, I mentioned that I’ve always been charged for soy and if she had not been previously, she should thank her lucky charms with added marshmallows she had been getting hooked up, indirectly placing her in a better position to buy more sausages and cheese.

You didn’t like my participation, likely because you sensed I’m the kind of guy that can see through your gelatinous exterior, into your soul.  I know people.  As the manager, Kevin, was tending to your card, I reminded him that the young worker did nothing wrong short of staying on that side of the counter and not slapping the fat bitch in the face.  (I didn’t say ‘fat bitch’ out loud – I’m respectful.) I did however, say that some people are just miserable and need to take out their personal frustrations on others, especially during times of short-term power, such as being a customer in line at a Starbucks cafe.  Make them eat cake, fat bitch; hopefully, there’s some left for you.  I know you want some.

By the fat changing around your eyes, I sensed you didn’t like me unearthing that truth that’s as old as you are fat.  After, you took pains to walk a few feet to the stairs and carefully descend as not to put even more pressure on your aching limbs that succumb to the weight of a human elephant with each step you take.


WE ALL LAUGHED AT YOU AFTER YOU LEFT.  Not because you’re fat and disgusting; that would make us as puny and as socially insignificant as you.  We laughed at the obvious fat person who had to take out their frustrations on someone receiving low wages in exchange for serving people like you.  You saw a window, that your fat ass could not go through but shitty attitude could access, and like an infinite number of dollar dogs at a baseball game, you snatched at it.

I hope you were on time to pick up your daughter, who will likely grow up to act similar to you, perhaps sans a pound or two.  In the end, was $.50 worth robbing your stomach of the scrumptious sugar it wanted so badly?  I’m pretty sure I know what your small-nation-sized tum-tum would say.  But, I’m emotionally intelligent.


Why I Hate the Homeless

Posts by Anthony

To start, let’s stop being politically correct – they’re bums.  Why else would they smell, ask us for our hard-earned money, and think they can live outside of a system that works so well for the rest of us?

Yesterday, I was in Starbucks, drinking my $3 coffee, when I noticed a female bum taking up space in a cafe filled with upstanding citizens and paying customers.  She was sleeping in the corner as if I wouldn’t notice or make disparaging remarks in my head and subsequently on my blog.

It’s sickening.  To start, why can’t she get a job like the rest of us?  Is it so difficult to find a way to gather belongings, situate them in one indoor place long enough to get a meal, wash, buy a dress and makeup, establish an email (Because EVERY person has an email and computers immediately available), and gather the confidence to look an employer in their judgmental eye, shaking their hand with freshly-manicured fingers (Stop buying drugs with the money I give you and get a haircut and manicure, bums!)

Not only have wages stagnated or declined over the last two decades, but also job stability and job security have deteriorated. One measure of job stability, involuntary job loss, has increased in recent years. The economy has lost nearly six million jobs since the recession began in December 2007. Household Survey reports that the unemployment rate increased from 8.9% to 9.5% in June 2009, which according to the Bureau of Labor Statistics added over three-quarters of a million workers to the unemployed list (Economic Policy Institute, 2009). Additionally, people are falling victims to long term unemployment at greater rates. The number of people out of work for 27 weeks or more is approximately 4.4 million (3 in 10 unemployed workers). The workforce dropped from 155.1 million in May to 154.9 million in June (U.S. News & World Report).

It’s pathetic they hang around metropolitan areas and places where there are a lot of normal people.  Of course, if a hot girl or someone I want to impress is looking, I’ll throw them a bone to feel better about myself, but really, I’d rather see more Starbucks, Mercedes dealerships, and those cereal serial entrepreneurs walking around Philly with their tight pants jammed up their tight asses.  (What does one pant leg rolled mean anyway?  I don’t know; I grow old, I grow old.)

Also, if you’re going to lessen the cheerful ambiance of Starbucks with your presence, you fucking useless bums, at least have the decency not to lock yourself in the bathroom, a place you likely feel safe for a few minutes from living outside, where you’re raped, beaten, robbed, and lose the few belongings you have.

slept out for the homeless in 2012 and got an earful from some young people who lived out on the streets, some for months to years at a time.  I couldn’t help but think why they didn’t just live in an affluent place with caring parents like me growing up? My biggest fear at sixteen was what Abercrombie & Fitch shirt would get Martha with the big boobs in English class to pay greater attention to me.  Why are these kids wasting time, living hand-to-mouth, when they could be sitting on a plush couch, twittering bullshit about their latest boyfriend/girlfriend and offering opinions about Justin Bieber?

I just don’t understand the fucking moxie of these American bums today.  Stop looking at me with those kitten meme eyes, your poorly handwritten (and grammatically challenged) cardboard signs, and think about taking a bath every now and again; I recommend using $5 natural soaps from Whole Foods, throw in some high-end bath salts too, bitches.

Oh, $100 is too much for you, you money-grubbing, lazy bastards?  Well, I guess you’ll continue to choose your own second-rate life and shitty fate on this Earth of Brotherly Love.

Peace on the streets.

Heine Goes Light in the Loafers

Posts by Anthony

To start, I’m down with the gays.  They have rights.  Otherwise, I’d be alienating potential readers – not good for business.  As a younger boy, I was a bit ‘gay'; I played with dolls (‘G.I. Joe’ men), watched teen soaps (90210 like a mofo), and, as a hetero male, treated girls in platonic fashion rather than walking vaginas.

Drink Up!

Drink Up!

A NY Times article claims Heineken Light seeks to get out of the basement (sales declined 36% from ’07-’12) and in and out of the closet, using openly gay actor, Neil Patrick Harris, as face man person to lead the 2014 Light parade toward higher sales.

In reading a failing brand was uniting with an openly gay actor, I couldn’t help but take pride in Heineken’s decision.  I love (in the platonic sense) the vindication provided by a company rep:

“Heineken supports equality and always acting in a nondiscriminatory way….

I'd tip that bottle

I’d tip that bottle

…By far, what is driving our choice [Mr. Harris] is hugely talented, creative and witty {and gay}, and will tell our story in a unique and amusing way {as only a gay could provide}.” {excuse my edits}

What does t n a have to do with alcohol? Everything!

What does t n a have to do with alcohol? Everything!

I think it’s great big business sees all as equal monetary opportunity.  I was equally happy reading how cinema houses and the entire industry are targeting Latinos, once second-to-third-rate consumers.



America is the land of opportunity, so it pleases me to see gays and Latinos chased with the same fervor and consumer cadence as traditional white, heterosexual dudes like me.  I’m tired of ‘old boys’ grubbing for my white bread alone; throw the gays and minorities a bone too.

Actually, I’ve had my time in the sun of consumption; I shopped at Abercrombie&Fitch with the other white dudes.  I bought gold chains and Fila sneakers, being Italian-American and living in the Tri-state area.  I surf, have long hair and tattoos, so I buy things that are suitable to dudes like that. (Which is?)  I’m not sure, but I know business will let me know!

I'd have way more girls around me!

I’d have way more girls around me!

I suspect gays will quickly make the A – B – C connection:

- Heineken is down with Harris

- Harris is down with the gays

- Soon, Harris will usher the parade toward that beer that’s strong enough for a straight but subtly marketed toward gays, Heineken Light!

It’s marketing genius, and I’m glad to live in a world where all are duped equally!  MLK had a dream we’d be equal.  Equality is here, just commercialized.

'Merican Dream

‘Merican Dream