The wannabees, the anointed and the pod people – again.

by James Norton

I go through phases – like all people – I try to be positive and have a good day. I go about my business for the most part in relative obscurity.

My days of being a loudmouth fool, constantly drunk and extremely obnoxious are long gone. We are all human and we all react differently to certain situations, and with this piece (and of course some examples) I hope to vent a little, shake my head a little, and hopefully make you laugh a little.

Let me tell you about how crazy the wannabees are out there. You know who I am talking about – and no, I don’t mean the “rent a cop” security guard who thinks at 45 years old and 275 pounds that he’s going to make the State Police – that’s so cliché. The funniest examples are seen in almost every Target parking lot or at almost any 99 Restaurant (except that one booth in the corner…I won’t go there).

The “Plastic Patties” are fun to watch – especially around St. Patrick’s Day. They try to make you think they’re Irish with their green pullover Notre Dame (oh that’s subtle) football jersey or maybe they’ll hold up their 12th Killian’s Red or Guinness Stout and shout out your name from the bar while you’re trying to have dinner with the wife and kids in the restaurant.

The best is the drunkard on St. Patrick’s Day, trying to keep a shot of Jameson down while explaining to you in a learned fashion that it’s really Evacuation Day. You’re not sure whether this moron knows that because he has a half watt left of intelligence, or if it’s because he’s a hack who has the day off and that’s the only reason he knows what holiday it really is.

Another fun group is the “you know who I am?” crowd – and no, I don’t mean the sense of entitlement group – we all know a few of those. I’m referring to the guy you cut off in the Dunkin Donuts parking lot, by accident, because you quite frankly couldn’t tell if he wanted to take another four minutes to contemplate whether to take the handicapped space or just hit the bushes with his Cadillac.

This is the same dolt who wants to fist fight you now, when you’re just trying to order a “light no sugar” in a clear and concise manner that may or may not be interpreted correctly by the wait staff.

This guy is going to blurt out at the top of his lungs that “you’ll know who I am” soon enough, because you should know that he once had dinner in the North End on the same block as the best friend of the second cousin twice removed from John Gotti or happened to have a drink at the L Street Tavern in South Boston – so now he’s “connected” and you’re gonna end up swimming with the fishes because of your parking indiscretion with the damned minivan.

I feel like Donnie Brasco just by putting print to paper on that last one.

Last but not least, we come to the “pod people” as I have so lovingly referred to many times before. This crowd of geniuses includes a wide variety of folk. More often than not, you’ll find the hack or the political hangers-on.

They generally think that outside the four walls of their home and/or workplace that they have real power out on the street because of who they know.

They end up running stupid errands and being made fun of, making themselves public targets without realizing it, and then when they’re called on it – and someone says something – its slander and harassment.
Give me a break.

These mental midgets (would “little person” have been more PC for you?) deliver tickets, pick up white envelopes, hold signs for every candidate under the sun (there’s the soft side of political prostitution, you know), show up at functions where they’re not wanted – amongst a veritable cavalcade of other mindless things.

Holy crap! I just took a swipe at least a few dozen people in this city.

Seriously though, if you put yourself out there in the public eye and hope to sway someone with your public actions, then you become part of the public process, and whether you like it not, some people will be rubbed the wrong way and yes, someone will call you on it.

Grow up. They say every dog has its day – well every dumbass has his ten minutes of fame too.