Loser with Feedbag
Our boy Snig here looks quite content, doesn’t he? Now that he has discovered the new durable and versatile urban feedbag introduced earlier this summer by the local StreetGearGap store on 17th near Madison, you might say that the rotund bottom feeder is in hog heaven!
Prior to acquiring one of these durable khaki sacks with ear-handles, Snig had a deuce of a time juggling his lit cigarette, an open longneck, and his favorite jumbo family economy size sack of Cajun barbecued pork rinds (let alone the occasional three cheese burrito or French cruller or boneless blue cheese chicken wing) in his two hands.
But now, thanks to the combined ingenuity of a Brazilian fabric wholesaler, a Singaporean stitching plant manager, an entrepreneurial 19-year-old business major from the University of New Delhi, and an astute purchasing manager for Junquemart Distribution Co., Ltd., Snig can simply toss any and all sundry snackage items into his voluminous feedbag and carry on with his worthless day, slurping and belching and munching merrily away. (It’s a shame that the bag obscures most of the jersey number of Snig’s latest NFL idol, as well as a clear view of the colorful rearing cobra tattoo that winds around his sweaty acned neck, but, hey, you’ve got to sacrifice something for convenience.)
As you might have guessed from the remainder of Snig’s appearance, he’s a man — chronologically, at least — on a mission. Since the earliest years of his adolescence, he has carefully calibrated every element of his personal physique, hygiene, wardrobe, appearance, demeanor, attitude and language to maximum effect in stickin’ it to society’s arbiters. Doesn’t matter whether they be peers, parents, teachers, employers, shopkeepers, grandparents, law officers, judges, sea captains. If he can find a way to offend the sensibilities of any or all of them, he will. The more offensive, the better.
Snig takes losing seriously.
So, upon the release of any new magazine article on the downward trajectory of our wayward youth, Snig gets another offbeat piercing, or one more stud through an exposed body part, or some large and gaudy extremist tattoo. As each bizarre item of street fashion apparel becomes too mainstream or ubiquitous, he seeks out the next newly outrageous accessory or outfit. He is constantly at work broadening his vocabulary to encompass all the latest eyebrow-raising gasp-inducing paint-peeling scatological epithets. And, with all the controlled breathing exercises he has undertaken, he’s no slouch at stringing them together into stream of consciousness obscenity rants, either.
But lately, Stig has noticed more and more buzz about America’s obesity epidemic, especially among the youth of the nation. A light bulb has illuminated! Aaaah!, thinks Snig, now there’s a loser goal if I ever saw one! I’ll just eat and eat and eat. Every kind of low nutrition high fat artificially colored multi-additive crap I can get my hands on! I’ll become one of the fattest people around, thereby not only offending, but becoming an imposition and a burden upon, everyone with whom I come into contact. This is perfect!
Thus, the new feedbag is simply the latest masterstroke in Snig’s determined pursuit of Supreme Loserdom!
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