2008-12-08 - 9:40 p.m.
Jack's Christmas Letter To His Asshole Uncle
Hey Asshole.
Yeah you.
Since we are going to be seeing each other at Christmas, I wanted to say a few things. A few things I could never say to your face in real life. Not without a few drinks anyway.
If only you knew what a surly bastard I really am.
I have been wanting to tell you off for years.
Someday I probably will.
But I am not doing that in this letter.
Instead, I am asking somewhat nicely, that you do not bring up my old car this year.
In an ideal world, you would not talk to me at all. But since you feel the need to stare at me, until you can find the right moment to engage and piss me off, that is more than I could realistically hope for.
It is more than I can socially acceptably hope for.
You seem fascinated with the way I try to avoid you. As well as the camera.
You seem endeared by the fact that I really do not like you.
You take too much interest in me.
And you have too much fun pissing me off.
Back to what I was saying about my car. The one you have such a hard on for. I would appreciate if you did not keep bringing it up every year. It is like bringing up someone's dead dog every time you see them. It is rude, tacky and tactless.
It is even worse that you keep pushing the issue when you see that it is pissing me off.
Maybe you miss the car talk.
Maybe you think that is the only way to start a conversation. Rather than a fight.
The thing is, if you were so interested in my car, where were you when I asked for help rebuilding it? You were too busy working on my other asshole uncle's car. You refused to help me. Too many cars.
You are the one that closed that door. Not me.
I can't say the resentment ever went away.
You never wanted to help me.
You just wanted to take candy from a baby.
You still do.
Fuck you.
I also think it is kind of funny that I do not hear much about my other uncle's car anymore. Yeah he has a "better" car than me. His is finished and has been to the track. So what. Good for him.
I know how it goes.
You guys wanted to rub my face in it.
Only it didn't work.
I was not jealous. I did not feel like less of a man for it.
I liked what I had.
Now the only way you know to get to me is to keep rubbing my face in the fact that my car was in an accident. You try to tear my balls off with your teeth every chance you get. You still try to get me to sell it to you. Still want it? Even though it has been in an accident? Even though you have not driven it in years?
Fuck you.
FUCK.
YOU.
Did it really bother you that much that I had something that I was proud of? Even with all its imperfections. Part of me thinks you are happy that I got in the accident.
Part of me also thinks that you get off on the fact that you can make me feel like shit by rubbing everything that is wrong with my life in my face.
Everything that is wrong with me.
Well, fuck you.
Writing this has helped me see that you are the bigger asshole. Not me.
I would appreciate it if you at least went through the motions of showing me some respect.
This year return the favor.
Thanks in advance for nothing.
-Jack
Jack Begins Another Year - 2009-01-12
Jack's Christmas That Wasn't (2) - 2008-12-24
Jack's Christmas That Wasn't - 2008-12-24
Jack's Christmas Eve Alone - 2008-12-24
