The Return of DMFRH: The Results Show!
WARNING: Still cussing…come back tomorrow if your ears (or eyes) are too delicate.
Last week, I introduced a witty new segment on the blog called Dis MuthaFucker Right Here—DMFRH. In that post, I gave you my first contenders for the DMFRH award: The Boy with his sorry ass response to his academic Katrina and the cardio crusaders, Shaun T and Tony Horton. Punk ass muthafuckers.
The response to that post was overwhelming: you guys loved it! Who knew the trifling-ness of my son (yes, I made up my own word) or the debacle of trying to get fit with the Insane Clown Posse would inspire such a wonderful response?! You guys gave me a plethora of your DMFRHs—here are some of my favorites:
• The highschool math class that cannot calculate simple fractions (like thirds and halves) without calculators. These are highschoolers, people! These cats took 60-80 minutes to complete a 20 minute quiz. How do you come BACK from your first period to 6th because you can’t study your math? God forbid you study at home! What if you study IN SCHOOL?
• This is a personal favorite of mine: the 70-year-old man who argued with his ex-Marine son-in-law in “a t-shirt and Depends” about whose ass he was gonna kick. Sit your ass down! I wish I could have seen it.
• I particularly like the rental car company whose slogan was “if it breaks down, we’ll just bring you another one.” And the car actually broke down! On the freeway!
As enjoyable as these submissions were, I have to elect a new DMFRH for this week: the muthafucker who wrote this shit.
Let me set the stage for you: on January 13, they told us we were in for a fuckedupass weekend (and yes, I made up another word): we had 3 storms coming. Seattle does not do well with snow, admittedly. The city runs in a series of steep ass hills from the Cascade Mountains into the ocean; its populated with some of the scariest, apocalyptic-style drivers this side of the Rapture—drivers who will bail out of their cars at the first sign of a flake; and we have one snow plow and an old truck with a rusted plow blade on it that we rent from Canada. Granted we are not prepared.
That said, those 3 storms dropped like 2 ½ feet of snow at my house! My artic ass dog, the fucking husky, wrote us a note that said, “Let me know when you shovel this shit. I’m going back to bed.” Hundreds of thousands of people lost power (and still don’t have it), there were about 800 accidents and the governor declared a state of emergency.
And then DMFRH from the LA Times called Seattlites “Snow Wimps.”
Are you fucking kidding me? Seriously? Wimps? The author said: “As it happened, though, Snowmageddon the storm was not. Seattle was seeing between 1 and 8 inches of snow by midday — a long way from the 21.5 inches that fell in a single day in 1916.” Let’s trace your experience with snow, goddammit! The last incidence of now in LA County was in 1962 and it was a TRACE, punk! We weren’t even on the moon yet! Black people couldn’t vote yet! Kennedy was still alive. The Beatles were still together. I have more people without power in my city than you have readers in yours.
But I get it. I do. To not be a wimp, you have to live through earthquakes, wildfires, and mudslides that destroy your shit and then rebuild in the EXACT SAME SPOT! We’re wimps because we got feet of snow but 58 degrees is cold. Whatever, dude. From all of us to all of you: shut the fuck up.