Congratulations to the winner of the CCA for 2013!
It couldn’t possibly be anybody but….Atman, who‘s uproariously funny, how he tries to come across as serious, knowledgeable, and credible….and inevitably flops flatter than what a bison drops on the prairie.
Because he’s such a “regular†in the DUmpster, probably Atman should rank in the top ten every year, but he hasn’t; the last time he got anywhere was as #11 Top DUmmie in 2009, years ago. And one forlornly points out he hasn’t even yet won the award named specifically for him.
Talk about being a loser.
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Atman and franksolich go back a long ways; we bumped into each other many years ago, long before the DUmpster existed, when decent and civilized people were still hanging around our old home. He went there hoping to mole as TexasToast, but the disguise quickly wore thin, as while it’s easy for decent and civilized people to pose as primitives, it’s nearly impossible for primitives to masquerade as decent and civilized people.
For a while, there was question about which primitive “TexasToast†really was, but after a couple of weeks of vocabularial comparison, it was determined to be Atman. The giveaway was that both Atman on Skins’s island and “TexasToast†on conservativeunderground seemed to have an obsession with used women’s sanitary products, a pretty rare quirk.
I no longer remember why Atman was so rude to dutch508 and TxRadioGuy, only that it caused stir enough that I was compelled to contact Atman, offering to be his tutor, his mentor, on how to win friends and influence people; the guy was obviously short-changed in social skills.
When franksolich offers a primitive the hand of friendship, it’s probably a good idea for the primitive to grab it, to not let go, to hold onto it for dear life.
But primitives pay no attention to franksolich.
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Well, inevitably when a primitive spurns a hand of friendship, especially one so magnanimously and unself-interestedly extended, there
are consequences, among them being that the primitive’s moved up from the faceless lynch-mob, the
lumpenunterprimitiven, into the spotlight.
And it’s very difficult to get out of that glaring megawatted spotlight.
There’s probably been many times Atman’s wished decent and civilized people had never heard of him, left him alone, but it’s his own damned fault. He’s pretty touchy; at times, he reacts as if a little old lady with haemorrhoids being goosed, at other times, it’s like tickling the tail of a dragon.
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Atman’s always been a source of fascination to me because we come from similar backgrounds; born roughly approximately about the same time, from professional families, and possessive of the same sort of temperament.
Damn. We could almost be twins, we’re so much alike.
One then reasonably expects the same “outcome†for both, but that doesn’t appear to be the case; on one side, we have Atman, who’s a loser, and on the other side, we have franksolich, who’s not.
Atman is a youngest brother, as is franksolich. His older siblings don’t take him seriously, as did not franksolich’s late older brothers and sisters.
Atman once drove a forklift, the only real job he ever had; franksolich once drove a forklift, and in many different places, many different jobs.
Atman is a caricaturist, and a very good one, with paints and chalk; franksolich tries to be a caricaturist with words.
Atman is turned on by nudity; one should see how he acts at the “nude beach†and somesuch threads on Skins’s island, he pants; franksolich is turned on by nudity, but only discreetly so.
Atman’s driven in a vicious snowstorm in southern Colorado; so too has franksolich, too many times to count.
Atman as a little lad once met the celebrity Barbara Eden; franksolich kissed Barbara Bush, two different times, two different places.
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There are of course dissimilarities--there’s even dissimilarities in identical twins--such as that Atman is somewhat shorter, with thinning blond hair, and a middle-aged paunch, while franksolich is two, three, inches taller, with thick dark brown hair, and a midriff as flat as the prairies.
Also, Atman has two ears, while franksolich has zero ears.
Also again, Atman grew up his eyes glued to the boob-tube, sequestered in a cramped, crowded Levittown down in Florida, while franksolich grew up in the vast spacious open spaces of the Sandhills of Nebraska.
Also yet again, while franksolich has a four-year college degree (plus more), unless it’s a dark secret, Atman surprisingly boasts no academic accomplishment, other than perhaps being a “graduate†of one of the “art schools†advertised inside the covers of books of paper matches.
Perhaps he didn’t have the smarts to make it into one of the premier universities or colleges, but on the other hand, since he comes from Old Money and Much Money (Massachusetts; some now-defunct camera company), surely his way could’ve been bought into one of those small private colleges ubiquitous in New England.
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Both of us are used to being given things on silver platters, but while franksolich doesn’t expect them, and is humbly grateful for such gifts, Atman
expects, demands them, and gets rather haughty when, through some inadvertent omission, the plate’s not passed to him.
Atman can be spoiled-little-girl finicky at times, such as that he has Perrier water piped into his plumbing because ordinary water’s not good enough to take that which he plops into the commode.
Now, this guy--how could he
not be a perennial top-ten finisher?
Other primitives may wish to be illuminated by the example of Atman; it needs noted that of the tens of thousands of threads here in the DUmpster, in
none of them is a primitive who clutched the hand of friendship offered by franksolich been embarrassed.
