Name That H8ful H8er: I Told You Not to Touch Me-Twice

The last thing I want for my dear readers is to burden them with the human filth that confronts me daily. But periodically, one of the voices in the comments section of our times comes to life right in front of me in such a way that I’m compelled to make an example of him.

After exposure of Palin-hater and hateful Bristol Palin confronter Stephen Hanks, it dawned on me that maiming and shaming is the only means to put rabid leftists in their place. Miraculously, perhaps over the sheer economics of his misbehavior, Hollywood talent manager Hanks has apologized for accosting 21-year-old Bristol Palin for the sin of being the daughter of a prominent public figure.

The gentleman you see in the picture below rudely intruded in my personal space on the event of my great friend from college Paul Raff’s Birthday lunch at the Brentwood Country Mart (I had the always delicious carnitas tacos and Paul had the chicken chipotle sandwich, extra green sauce). Everything was swell at our fiesta para dos until a cowardly anonymous buffoon disturbed the peace. After overhearing my private discussion, he yelped from 10 yards away, “Waaa, waaa, waaa!! Waaa, waaa, waaa!!”

I curiously responded, “Excuse me, are you talking to me?”

Said cowardly anonymous buffoon replied, “I know who you are. Waaa, waaa, waaa!! Waaa, waaa, waaa!! Always complaining, always complaining.”

It was clear he wanted a public confrontation, and a public confrontation he got. With my hands behind my back (to make it perfectly clear that I was a taking a non-violent tact) and our faces two feet from one another, he attempted to make the conflict about politics, ACORN, and Sherrod. He was trembling worse than Matt Damon after the Red Sox collapse. When it became clear he was light on facts, things got personal. He said, “I know why you act like you do. People in your High School didn’t like you and now you’re taking it out on the rest of us. You were a little guy who got beat up.”

I informed said cowardly anonymous buffoon (who apparently has access to a time-machine) that I played defensive line on Varsity football. “Who was beating me up?,” I said. Who do you know that I know? Who do you know who said this?”

“XXXXXX,” he answered. There was only one XXXXXX in my high school and he happened to be my partner when I launched in 2005.

“You don’t know XXXXXX,” I said.

“Yes, I do,” he replied, and proceeded to name XXXXXX’s parents’ names, as if that made him an authority on my high school experience.

It was about this point he realized I wasn’t going to back down and that I’m just as petty as I’ve long stated that I am. He announced that he was going to leave and he patted me on my shoulder. I asked him not to touch me, at which point he obnoxiously patted me on the shoulder once again. Since I’m Mahatma Gandhi-like in my countenance, I did not reciprocate.

But said cowardly anonymous buffoon’s insufferable behavior is being met with something I’d like to call “passive internet exposure resistance.” Whether it’s union thugs or Brentwood Birthday lunch fiesta crashers, new media has a special way of shedding light on the bullies. So, I’m posting his photo. In the next election cycle, whether Richard Trumka’s freakish, self-righteous, class-warfaring goon squad is getting in your face or some leftist professor is in your grill over this excruciating three+ year “Bush” hyper-recession, your smartphone is your liberator.

Please help us shame this Stephen Hanks-esque rude freak, our cowardly anonymous buffoon. I would like to find out if my theory is correct: that our cowardly anonymous buffoon was the one who was bullied and beaten up in high school and that he thought that he could get his glory on the mean liberal streets of Brentwood.

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