Abby Sunderland Sucks

A heartfelt congratulations to Ms. Sunderland. We can surmise from all the interviews and recent press that you have successfully circumnavigated the globe, you modern day female Magellan. But hold the horses… sailed directly into notoriously dangerous waters in the southern Indian Ocean, your mast was owned by the badass waves that every mariner with half a dick knows to exist in those very waters at that time of the year, hit the panic buttons with much aggression, were located by an Aussie aircraft, then French sailors had to navigate into these same dangerous waters and risk their lives to rescue your narcissistic, attention-whore ass from your monumental failure. I’m sure that Australian taxpayer money had nothing else to do, like help some Aborigines maintain their alcoholism or save some kangaroos from some crocodiles. And I know the French mariners were totally amped about risking their lives to save some American dipshit with her own yacht (a yacht that had no back-up mast, mind you), rather than head home to pound wine with their kids, watch some Jerry Lewis, view their soccer team crybaby their way out of the World Cup and surrender some land to the Germans. In the end you got what you wanted-a shit ton of attention and adulation from pussy media types. And why the attention for such a failure? Shouldn’t they be worried about……wait a second….you don’t suck. I suck. I’m sitting here with my dick in my hand whilst you’ve just masterminded a plot to make yourself a multi-millionaire before your 17th birthday. You parlayed your yacht, your attention-seeking family, your shitty survival skills and your recklessness into a best-selling book. It doesn’t matter you FAILED. Some low-skilled author is going to write your unreadable story (sorry, Jon Krakauer isn’t writing your shit unless you succeed or die), the marketing geniuses at Big Publishing House Inc are going to sell the fuck out of your book to the barely-literate segment of the reading populace where your tale of unprecedented selfish recklessness will inspire Ronald in Spokane to finally organize that Accounts Receivable file cabinet, and Emma in Orlando to smoke that hot senior Mike’s pole because, you know, carpe diem! Abby is laughing all the way to the bank. In the end it doesn’t matter who succeeded, who failed, who saved who’s ass, who inspired some dumb ass to copycat the whole stunt and actually die. All that matters is gettin‘ paid, bitch. Huzzah, Abby!

About Zach

Male homo sapien. Warrior poet. I live in Chicago with one wife, one offspring, and Scout the dog. I enjoy various stuff. Besides skinny skiing and going to bullfights on acid, I also enjoy running, reading, drinking, eating and procrastinating on many things, such as starting this blog. I have a mom, a dad, and a younger brother who recently produced a sister-in-law. I'm the only person in my family, sister-in-law included, who doesn't have a post-graduate degree. I guess that makes me special. I grew up in a small to medium sized town in the middle of Ohio. In fact the even smaller town next door has a sign which reads "The Geographic Center of Ohio". Given this is what they choose to boast you can only imagine how exciting that town is. My town is infinitely cooler. For example on weekend nights people from my town and the surrounding villages and hamlets converge on the public square to "cruise" in their souped-up mini trucks, some bearing Confederate flags, despite growing up and living rather safely north of the Mason-Dixon line. This is high-minded stuff we're talking about here. I graduated sometime during the Clinton presidency from the local high school where I played football and participated in absolutely nothing else. This strategy paid huge dividends when I applied to numerous colleges on the eastern seaboard which were highly selective. When you show up to the admissions table with "HIgh School Football and Nothing Else" on your application, you get respect. After graduating from Ohio University with a degree in Economics that I've used for absolutely nothing, I moved to Boston. Boston is a lovely city. I was doing things I'm not proud of for beer money and I left after 16 months. My next move was to Chicago and 10+ years later there I still reside. I write this blog for therapeutic reasons. Much like some people paint to relax or smoke crack to unwind after a stressful day, I record my thoughts on Al Gore's World Wide Web for 9 friends, 4 family members, 1 person who accidentally clicked through after an unsuccessful Google search for something else, and a guy named Patriot1 who lives in a silver Air Stream in the Nevada desert and broadcasts his own radio show. Is there a point to all of this? I doubt it. Years ago and in a galaxy far, far away (College Park, Maryland, then Athens, Ohio) I was toying with the idea of being a journalism major. I enjoyed writing so it seemed the obvious fit. Then I attended career day and learned that journalism majors could look forward to a salary of $EA,TSH.IT per year with the promise of a fatal heart attack at 47 years of age. I'm not falling for that trick, I told them (them being no one, and told being saying it in my own mind in the shower). Approximately 15 years later here I sit declared the big winner in that battle: I never made any money doing anything else and now I'm writing entirely for free. So suck balls, journalism career day. The views expressed in this website are mine and mine entirely. I don't wish to be an even bigger black eye to my family than I probably already am. As a result of this I will never be able to run for public office and I accept that reality. But this website is a very dignified, well-dressed skeleton full of witty retorts and honorable deeds compared to the disheveled, stenching, staggering and loud skeletons who would come marching out of the closet to White Zombie's "Thunderkiss '65" if they ever unearthed the college years. So enjoy your train ride, your hangover day at work, your AA meeting or your dump. I'm here to serve.
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One Response to Abby Sunderland Sucks

  1. Anonymous says:

    And thank God, because the bitch looks like she's been on a boat since inception. Before getting that headshot for her book cover, someone should suggest miss “wild eyes” head to a Lancome counter so her face quits looking like it recently met the back end of a frying pan.

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