The following was left in a comment to the previous post:
You see Francis, it’s not that you live in the kind of neighborhood that allows residents to leave their trash cans out in the driveway seven days a week.
Really, you can tell all that from one photo taken one day a few years ago?
Can you tell me what card I’m thinking of right now?
It’s not that your two cars combined are worth less than the price of a decent touring bike and you have no excuses like kids with bills to pay and college to save for.
Gosh, you think I own two cars.
Maybe we’re using the money in a constructive way that you have yet to learn about.
Maybe, in America, as long as I pay my taxes and don’t bother my neighbors, I should be able to live as I please.
It’s not that you don’t have either the stones or the drive to get up off the couch and tell your wife you’ve had it with the dump of a neighborhood you live in and ‘c’mon, we’re moving, let’s go look at nicer neighborhoods’. Or that you don’t walk across the street to tell your neighbor to please put his plastic chairs inside because you expect company to come over, because you know he will either a)punch your lights out, or b) laugh at you uncontrollable, or c) wrap poison in some turkey and throw it in your back yard for your dogs to eat. Or more likely all three
I just looked up and down the street, and I didn’t see any chairs as your perusal of my neighborhood would suggest, so I would respectfully submit that your concern is touching but out of date.
Nor is it that you allow your breadwinner wife to get up every morning and go to work to support you while you just accept the condition you’re in, in a town with 16% unemployment and housing prices that have dropped over 60% in the last 3 years, and figure you can get by fine doing a few tax returns on the side to make it look you’re contributing, too.
What I like about you, Dennis, is the fact that you think you can get under my skin when you really have no version of reality that I am in other than that you’ve picked up from talking to me once, my comments here and there, and some information that you’ve paid good money to get from a few public records.
I hope you get your money’s worth.
Tell me my landline number, Dennis, it’s listed under a version of my name because I bought this place 5 years before 9/11.
It’s risible that you don’t have the guts to call me up and tell me these faults of mine person to person on my cell phone. Chicken much, Dennis?
None of that is really so out of the ordinary as to be worthy of denigration in and of itself. No, what’s so pathetic and so typical of people like you is that you just that you allow you and your wife to live like that while at the same time you run other people down for the same things.
It’s like a fat old lady sitting in her trailer home watching tv and belittling someone on a reality show for living in a trailer park.
Says Dennis the coward.
Do your daughters know about your obsession with me, Dennis, would you want them to know?
Thanks for the laughs.
When I weary of your buffoonery, I’ll delete all your comments and all your carefully crafted ramblings will have been for naught.
OTOH I may revise this post to include your street address. Do you really want me to do that, Dennis?
Oh, and does this ring a bell, Quasimodo?
Go take a dive into Swan Lake.