Some people say I’m sarcastic.
Hard to believe....
Especially since I don’t have a sarcastic bone in my body.
But I can’t speak for the soft, mushy parts.
Those I have no control over.
I don’t know.
Even if...so what?
See, I said, “even if...” and left it to you to finish the rest, because that’s the new cool way of speaking...sarcastic or not.
Just start a sentence and....
Because cool people don’t have time to use complete sentences, any more.
“Too busy for....”
But if you’re lucky they may ask you to...“Come with...?”
Or maybe just to...
Oh wait...am I being...sarcastic, now?
I don’t think....
I’m just telling it like....
So I’m not really being....
And if you don’t get....
Well, you can just go to....
I was going to say McDonalds.
You can just go to McDonalds.
I think there’s a special on Big Macs...which definitely aren't as Big in their Macness as they used to be.
But then again, who among us...?
See, the thing with sarcasm is not everybody gets it...or worse, knows how to give it.
I assume all of you do and do...otherwise what would you be doing here?
Looking for odd pictures, I supppose.
Or you just enjoy finding all of my errors of gramatication so you can drop a sarcastic comment on me.
Which I appreciate if done well.
But not everyone does sarcasm well.
They think they can but they don’t.
Present company excepted, of course.
But hey...I’m sitting alone in a room.
Some people think if they insult your brand new fall sweater they’re being cleverly sarcastic.
“Hey, not everyone can pull off orange without looking like a giant pumpkin. I’ll let you know if I see someone....!”
Which to me is just rude...not sarcastic.
Besides, I like to think it's more of a burnt umber than orange.
No...clever sarcasm is an art. If pulled off properly, the receiver should, in theory be dazzled by your brilliance and actually flattered by the time, effort and attention you showered upon them.
Not always in practice.
Because not everyone understands what a privilege it is to be the target of a master sarcaster.
For one, the master sarcaster—let’s say someone like me, merely for the sake of illustration—will only impart their cutting wit upon those he has a great amount of affection for...and who he is certain has a great amount of affection for him.
Probably, more so than he has for them...but hey, what do you expect?
So if I ask you if that pimple on your nose comes with its own zip code, feel free to blush with pride. Hey, you’ve earned it.
And if I tell you I’m certain most people think you’re a very good driver, maybe even some of the ones that have actually driven with you...enjoy it as the big hug that it is.
And if I happen to mention that the sushi you’re passing around smells like something your cat refused to eat a couple of months ago...please understand, especially in this case, even though I probably like you more than a little, if only for inviting me to your BBQ, after good naturedly mocking your missing molar last Christmas, there’s actually nothing good intended there because I just don’t like sushi.
I mean there are limits to my graciousness.
But I’m sure I’ll make it up to you by commenting on that new mole you’ve sprouted on the side of your neck that's reminiscent of Larry from the Three Stooges.
I mean, who doesn’t love the Three Stooges?
Oh...and you’re welcome....