A Wife Beater and Yellow Shoes
On a muggy day on July 13th, 2005 a wave of depression and sadness massaged over what once was the decadence of advertising…it was if someone’s soul had died. When Pope John Paul II died there was still little Anthony Bagglia with his half cracked smile fastened tight with hopes of a future with laughter…but now his dreams resemble dark back alley reality porn…they were nightmares. He had gotten the memo.
Not since Larry Bird retired or Winston Churchill resigned had such a career run affected so many, with such permanence. I could hear heaven crying and it wasn’t the sound of angels. My Agencies soul had died and all the church bells were broken. A legacy? Perhaps. A leader? Unquestionable. A hack? Unanswerable. A catalyst? That my friends, was Brian Snyder…a hero to most, a mentor to more, and a sexual icon to all.
And while my 87’ Camry (LX edition for those who like guys with nice cars) is not the jet plane that most people imagine, the storied career of Brian Snyder; Rock Star by night and Fucking Rock Star by day will be transplanted like the hair I so desperately need to a place where yellow shoes roam.
So now the next chapter of the book that will never be read or published begins. I look forward to the intricacies of a new environment. An environment which will barely be mentioned because of the absolute FEAR that runs through my veins as they are buttoned up tighter then a teen for cash. Wait that didn’t make sense.
There is only one thing that could make me happier, and that is when the world agrees that shirts ‘sans’ sleeves which are form fitting are fashionably sound and culturally acceptable. When a man can walk the streets of Wall Street slurring and spitting and going mad with PDA with nothing but jeans and a beater. When the masses rise up, bring down the man, and Wife Beaters are not only smiled upon, but are required. I’m a dreamer. Time to move on.
Last call YPBR…bar’s closed.
8 Comments:
To bring some joy to the equation: I sported a Wife Beater up here in Delaware over the weekend. In fact, I was actually riding around a brand new neighborhood, with only a beater, boxers and sandals, on a 50cc dirtbike. And I was ripped. The only thing that could have topped it off, is if I had a PBR while riding the motorcyle. Anyways, I biffed hard, tore my beater, broke my left toe, have cuts all on my arms, and the Mexicans building the house next to where I was were laughing their orang-picking asses off. But, even they had beaters, so your dream may one day be a reality...
YAR
6:38 AM
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6:49 AM
YAR, you forgot to say you were ripped from 9 Pina Coladas, ya Fruit! :)
7:37 AM
So, I enjoy fruity drinks at times! It was a hot, sunny day. So it was ok...So, the same day I broke my toe, they wanted to go to the Mall and eat. Up north, you have to wear shoes to go anywhere. But, I could not put any shoes on. The only thing I had were my buddies wifes slippers. So, I sported to the mall in Pink Fuzzy Slippers, beater, and shorts. Many odd looks from these northerners. But, heh, I still got my Sbarro pizza!
YAR
7:51 AM
You had be at 'beater"...you had me at beater.
How much is a pina colada? Comparable to your integrity? Or is that too expensive? Do you drive a Sebring? So thorton park
8:01 AM
Seems like underneath the suit, there's a beater of a creative yearning to wander free. Maybe, just maybe, your new yellow shoes will help find the way.
11:55 AM
Screw the 'beater. And the yellow shoes. Who are you, Dorothy?? We all know you don't work out enough to be blessed with those guns.. I want to hear about your weekend. Word on the street is you had some fun. Some of us may or may not have seen you at a party Saturday night with some hot chicks in tow.
7:31 PM
Clarity: Yellow Shoes is an Ad Agency and is where I am going to work next...didn't mean to confuse the masses.
BG: Suit fits too well,,,
And Idiot:
Yes, I am Dorothy.
Because Dorothy was known for wearing a...beater...and yellow shoes. Now I see the similiarities.
5:13 PM
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