My Own Personal Beach Monster

On a personal note, I would like to address the skinny, deeply-tanned, weasel-voiced Brooklyn fuck who set up shop five feet behind me on Long Beach just off Edwards Boulevard yesterday and proceeded to yammer into his cell phone as loudly as he possibly could about the media for two hours straight yesterday. You, sir, are human waste. I know you'll read this. How do I know? Because you said things like, "I've worked as a media professional for the last ten years," and "I just did a little temp work for the Times," and, "Can I do a seminar for, like, all these editors and news executives about digital media?" You suck. You're the worst thing I've ever heard speaking. On the beach? You spout that vile nonsense on the beach?!

Here's an idea, ass. The next time you want to talk loudly about how all the new kids in the media "don't really know the traditions of journalism," do it from your fucking apartment-which I know costs $1800 a month and that you split it with a roommate, because you fucking discussed that too! Is the nothingness so close, so heavy, that you think it will go away if you just talk about it at the top of your lungs while a hundred people around you are trying to relax, you fucking jerk?

Holy crap! I moved away from you four times and yet your voice still carried! And how you lounged! How you stretched out your limbs like the world's most awful cat and yawned while you babbled about yourself! And when I finally moved far enough away that your voice was just a tiny bit of background nuisance, you got up and paced right behind my chair, you goddamned gaping wound!

In conclusion, you horrible thing. If you must discuss "the media"-or business of any sort, really-for more than a few minutes and be on the beach at the same time, you take that crap to the Hamptons. Everyone does it there, I am told, and the waves are very rough and there are very few lifeguards, so the problem of you may be handily dealt with. Because in any reasonable world, you would be reduced to a few pounds of soap and a bowl of Jell-O. Stay off my beach.