Situation Normal. Atmosphere Breathable. Brainstem Injected. Dialogue Engaged.
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Friday, July 22, 2005

Alcoholic Review

I had a friend for a few years named John Tacopina. We called him Taco. Computer game type guy, really skinny, smoked menthols. He moved to New York to be a restaraunt host or something. His uncle is a famous lawyer who goes on CNN all the time, so he wanted to be around the successful branch of the family, I guess. One night when I was drunk and pissy I told him the only reason we were friends was because we were worthless shits who didn't want to smoke marijuana by ourselves. He took offense. Never spoke to me again. Fast forward five years. Somehow he tracked me down.

Dear Steve,

Been a long time. I heard Tim wrote you a letter to reconcile your differences and make up. How sweet. I'll do no such thing. I'm writing to shit on your carpet. I remember back when we used to sit in your garage smoking joints, playing Star Wars CCG, listening to your crap ass music. I guess I had nothing better to do. I shoulda stayed the fuck at home.

You'd try to convince me that Sigur Ros' music was ethereal heavenly genius. You know what it was? A bunch of castrated Icelandic fucks mourning their severed cocks. That's what I think. You know what else? Sleater Kinney and Le Tigre are for butch lesbians, not you. And Bono is a cunt, and U2 sucks. The Clash is fucking noise, not music. You need a lobotomy. Badly. And what's with all that Motown shit? I don't even need to explain what that says about you.

You were always such a loser. Who pops pills so he can chug a whole case of Budweiser in a single sitting? Who buys comic books and passes them out to strange kids who wander up to his garage to try and steal his marijuana? Who gets so drunk from gin that he tries to wrestle with police while his mother watches, crying, asking him to stop? You, that's who. What else? Okay. I'll tell you.

Who dirty dances with middle-aged women who stop their power walks to gawk at the drunk moron dancing to old Talking Heads calypso songs? Who pukes his gin so he can switch to beer? Who drinks cups of microwaved nacho cheese and burps up preservative heavy green pepper chunks? Then sticks them out on his tongue, amused at his digestive genius? Steve Fucking Giles, that's who.

Plus, you almost never cleaned that place. You had that nasty old green chair with burn holes and puke stains all over it, and you were proud of it, too, like a baby with a full diaper. You just threw all your trash on the floor, and it stacked up halfway to the ceiling. That is fucking horrible and you know it. That throw rug was glued to the floor, man. I bet it took a paint scraper to get that thing up after all the piss and beer that soaked that thing.

The worst thing about you was the spiders. Letting your tarantula crawl on your face ain't cool. You tried soooo hard to be weird and different. It was pathetic. I bet that thing hated you. Not to mention the purple spider living on the ceiling by the light bulb. Sure, I may have swatted the occasional june bug in there to watch the spider trap it and eat its brain, but you did it every single night. You really enjoyed it. Why don't you find a spider to fuck? You're not getting any chicks with a wardrobe you sewed together yourself. Slow down on the action figures and maybe you'll be able to afford some threads. Oh, and keep voting for Ralph Nader. Dipshit.

Keep getting drunk. Stay the same. I want your life to suck. I hope you hate yourself right now. I'll bet you never even learned to drive yet. One day I'll come back, point my finger, gloat, and say I told you so. Fucktard.

Eat shit,
John Tacopina
3:17 PM - Bottle Rocket Fire Alarm

16 Comments:

July 23, 2005 2:22 AM, Blogger The Everglades said...

A) I saw Sigur Ros in Paris.
B) My brother gets drunk and dances with middle-aged women.
C) I can let a ball python wrap itself around my neck, but I could never touch a spider, even a small one.
D) I wish I could take credit for "fucktard"

Blake

 
July 23, 2005 1:37 PM, Blogger OldHorsetailSnake said...

I think it's neat when old pals stay in touch like that. Brings a tear to the lower left corner of one eye. It'll be tough to know what to get him for Christmas because he didn't say much about himself. I'm pretty sure he won't want any puke.

 
July 23, 2005 11:53 PM, Blogger ty bluesmith said...

!

 
July 24, 2005 2:09 AM, Blogger simpleton said...

Steve, I think we'd get along fine, except for the spider thing.

 
July 24, 2005 6:24 AM, Blogger biased opinion said...

I think he really likes you....

 
July 24, 2005 9:34 AM, Blogger Saucy Monk said...

well, atleast i'm glad to hear he's not wasting his time anymore hangin out with you (though he seems to have some lasting, vivid memories there) and now spends his time writing out such long, spiteful letters. Good to hear he's so much better off now.

 
July 24, 2005 3:58 PM, Blogger amanda said...

i hope you will write him back and share your letter with us.
that guy REALLY doesn't like you! hate that heavy had to have spawned from a serious love! maybe he's gay? can't get over you?

 
July 24, 2005 10:54 PM, Blogger Latigo Flint said...

The worst is when they're right so far. But life's a marathon, not a sprint, ain't it now?

 
July 25, 2005 8:44 AM, Anonymous red said...

Steve, i'm going to invest in another couch for my office, just for the chance of having the both of you in one session. I'll even grant you a 2-for-1 deal. Thanks to individuals like "john" and yourself, i should be able to retire by 40.

 
July 25, 2005 9:05 AM, Blogger karen gsteiger said...

If you wrote him and pointed out that the opposite of love is indifference, not hate, do you think he'll get pissed?

--karen

 
July 25, 2005 11:08 AM, Anonymous sarcastrix said...

If I had half as much imagination as you, I'd... Actually, I do. About half. I don't know how you come up with this crap. It's great.

 
July 25, 2005 11:26 AM, Blogger Bottle Rocket Fire Alarm said...

Blake, A) I saw them in Chicago. Great concert. I still get comments about the "Avoid Apocalypse - Buy hope" t-shirt I bought there. B) Try it, it's fun. C) What can I say, I like spiders. D) Me too. I have no idea where I first heard it. I actually like "fuckstain" better.

Simpleton, yes we would. I don't force my arachnophilia on people, so you need not worry.

I'll admit - he didn't actually find me and write me a letter. He is real, though, and he does hate me, and everything he "wrote" about me is 100% accurate.

Thanks, Sarcastrix. I wonder what I'll write about today - maybe my bellybutton.

 
July 25, 2005 12:45 PM, Blogger karen gsteiger said...

Aw, I'm a little sad that that wasn't a real letter. When fiction is more interesting than reality, let the fiction stand! ;)

--karen

 
September 21, 2006 6:47 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

Link to mention in another forum, Glad you clarified it was written by you and not Taco.

 
September 21, 2006 7:08 PM, Blogger Bottle Rocket Fire Alarm said...

Anon, I've been reading that thread for a week! Saw URL referrals and was curious. We actually met up a couple times and get along well these days.

 
March 27, 2007 5:34 AM, Blogger John said...

Taco checking in here. This post is totally ancient, but I keep stumbling upon it when I Google my name and always feel compelled to leave a comment. At this point, no one will ever see it. But to hell with it.

Yeah, things were weird back then. But like I said when we met up some time back, everybody that hung out there needed that type of environment, and I think despite the hard feelings that came as a result (and in most cases were patched up) we all kind of figured out who we were...finally.

Do I regret those days? Not one fucking bit...I wouldn't trade those experiences for anything else in this world. Do I feel bad about how things turned out? I did, for a time, but all's well that ends well.

Genuinely good people in this world are few and far between. I'm glad things played out the way they did and I can say I still know one of them.

 

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