In Which Charlie Casserly Delivers a Final Monologue Before Destroying the World

07.20.09 8 years ago 40 Comments

That is an interesting question.

As you might expect, I have given this matter a not insignificant amount of thought. So I do have a response for you. Allow me to unpack it a little, if I may.

Have you ever been faced with this situation: cast under the public’s searing gaze, expected to toe the line on a decision, whose consequences are far-reaching, the brainwashed uninformed masses – masses who will froth and claw and render garments if you go against them – have unctuously deemed to be an obvious one, but you, yes you, are possessed of a more keen understanding and must take countervailing measures?

And because the obvious rightness of your decision won’t be apparent to the lay crowd for years – and it is the right decision – you will be subject to unending, unavoidable ridicule, the loss of your job and worst of all, having your children report back from school with tales of harassment from classmates and faculty alike, in which they are called any number of things unfit for polite conversation and in some instances pelted with rocks and feces and dried up fecal bits which, while still feces, are hard and sting like rocks.

“God, Reggie Bush – what a bust. Who couldn’t’ve seen that coming? No durability. Can’t run between the tackles. Averages the length of my dick per carry. Makes Eric Bieniemy look like Eric Metcalf. Fucks a hog-assed Persian and is clearly better suited for vacuous pointless celebrity than the gridiron. It’s always more difficult to find a dominant pass rusher than a starting running back.”

Yes. Hindsight is a beautiful thing.

But you too, I’m sure, are racked with difficult life-altering decisions on a daily basis. Which ironic T-shirt matches your overpriced sneakers because Jill from accounting has finally given you the green light on a chance to take her to Quinzo’s for lunch, and man, you need to hit it off because you got shit else going right now. When you get to Quizno’s, do you go double meat on your mesquite chicken? When, at last, Jill grants you to the chance to take dull stabs at her clitoris with your sweet onion teriyaki sauce stained tongue, what technique will you employ? See, your life does have consequence, after all.

Yes, you know whereof I speak. Yours is a pressure-filled existence fraught with horrible potential consequences. That is why I am certain you were not a member of the teeming hordes who mocked me ruthlessly in the days, weeks, months following the 2006 NFL Draft. That is a correct assessment?

Oh no.

It is not?

You did in fact chuckle at me like some dumb farm animal in the wake of my daring, and since proven demonstrably correct, decision? That is a shame. Here I was thinking you were a person capable of rational analysis, rather than mere knee-jerk judgments.

You asked me why I’ve tied you to this warhead. And why, knowing the terrible events that will unspool should I detonate it, am I most definitely going to detonate it. I hope that I have provided a satisfactory answer.

Farewell, fuckstick.

Around The Web