My last three days have been a living nightmare. The indescribable pressure hurled on to me by the known-to-be-overbearing, Gabe Durham has led to sleepless nights naturally followed by significant family tension, which need I remind you, is a potential disaster in a season such as this. Many of you, undoubtedly loyal to Gabe’s charm, wit, and homemade Biodome 5 models made of clay and painted in silver and gold will naturally protest my exposure of Gabe’s all-business, hard-ass attitude and you will inquire, “What has Gabe actually done to you?” Save you words. Those of you who aren’t phonies, which I suspect is at the very most, 4 or 5 of you, know that it’s not about what he did or said; It’s about what medium he chooses to express himself to me. That’s right children, long gone are the days of a firm handshake and an eye to eye conversation (despite whatever some military propaganda/recruitment commercial might tell you). All that I get from Gabe Durham these days is dysfunctional EMAILS; business in nature, but laced with personal greetings that I cannot confirm to be genuine. I mean, “Yours Truly”… Really Gabe? What’s worse is that each email is sent to my personal email account. Some of you children that haven’t even graduated from a University likely have no understanding of the manipulative power-play that is happening here. You all can see that I work hard everyday to provide for my family; when I get home each day after the sun’s long gone, I check my personal email and expect Friend Requests, Friend Detail Requests, Wall Post Notices (if there are any, which I’m proud to say there generally are), and Blocked Spam Notifications. Now, in the midst of real substance, Gabe Durham figuratively walks in my front door and stabs me in the back Brutus-style with his deception and subliminal threats. He thinks that just because he has a nice new haircut, he can write me hundreds of emails screaming at me to hurry up with my first post. In preparation for my inaugurational debut on the presidential Gather ‘Round Children, I deserve nothing but positive vibes and supportive man bridges. I don’t need some performance driven parent figure to suck away all creative juices; frick. Give me time. My literary reputation is ON THE LINE.
Maybe if Gabe’s only communication with his father wasn’t emails from “firstname.lastname@example.org” we wouldn’t be having this problem.