August 1998
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Portrait of The Artist As A Young Man I Don't Shut Up!
by Ryan Glowczewski

Once upon a time, there was this guy, okay. And he thought he was a nice guy, right. He had all the qualities, he wasn't some drooling guy who was just after sex, he liked to do romantic stuff, he would never thinking of cheating on someone, he was basically a nice guy, as opposed to a jerk.

He was really certain he had to be a nice guy because he showed that terminal syndrome of nice guyness: he had all these female friends that would always tell him how nice he was, and how strange it was no-one ever went out with him, but, of course, they would never go out with him. It would be like dating their brother.

So, this guy, see, he knew he had to be a nice guy, not a jerk. He had to be the nicest guy in the world, right.

Except, see, he was wrong. And he didn't even know it, because the first chance he got to do something outright cruel behind the back of the girl he was finding he really cared for, he did it.

And so now, he feels like total trash, like he's absolutly scum, and the fact that for some unknown reason, she seems to have at least partially forgiven him, makes him feel even worse. Like, after he pulls this crap, she still likes him? He doesn't deserve to be treated that kindly.

Basically, the guy was a creep in disguise.

So, if you read the column that was here before, please ignore it. That was written by not only a creep, but also a liar, a coward, and a jerk.

Thankfully, this guy now realizes what he's done, why it was stupid and cruel, and what a jerk he is. That, in a jerk, is rare. So hopefully, maybe this guy can make up for what he's done, and become that nice guy he thought he was.

I'm sorry, Brenda. You deserve better.

As the Shrubbery's focus this month is on the non-secular, I feel obliged to brief you on my recent run in with said topic.

On Wendsday the 16th of September, I was destroyed by a truck.

Luckily physics saved my life. And a seat belt. Seat belts are very nice things, one should wear them.

Anyhow, after I was hit by this truck and I realized what was going on etc. I was led out of my car by an unknown hero and onto the side of the street.

There the womyn driving the truck that hit me (okay, I may have pulled out in front of her, I can't remember shit about the actual moment of impact) proceeded to lathe me with insults and threats. Likeit's my fault she tried to kill me with her truck. Shit, I work at Wal-Mart, I deserve better.

While the earlier mentioned hero did his best to calm her down, I felt it wise in my shaken state to heed her warnings to walk away from her.

Retreating from her I walked into a nearby priest. Stunned to find a priest on the side of the road I turned around and I believe i gawked. before I was allowed to ask what he was doing on the side of the road instead of in his proper place, ie. a church, he asked me if I wanted a prayer.

I almost asked, "For free?" thinking better I just said sure. So after his prayer I'm remembering I was raised Catholic and now I'm thinking that it wasn't at all free and I should be geting some form of receipt and something to show the insurance company, but he disappeared.

And that was my religous experience.

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