OVERTHROW CAMP DESPOT
Or OCD, as my therapist likes to call it.
There’s this camp, and it’s like, I know the dude running it is totally getting more action than me. Way more. I’m lucky to score a naked hug every other year while this guy is busy paintin’ titties. And with his level of involvement, commitment, and action, I’m sure he’s liven large on the playa, while here I am again, curled up alone in my $60 tent with the zipper stuck open. Seriously, what’s it take him to throw together a fully functioning camp for a couple hundred people anyway? A couple weekends at most? I looked around at the gig he allowed me to attend and hosted. The spread he offered could only be envied (and scarfed down by me). He has built himself a comfortable empire, and I want it. I want it all…for the community.
I had considered starting my own camp and doing it right, but I really like how he runs things, what he has done. And so does everyone else, so what else am I supposed to do?
The traditional manly method of setting up across from him at the card table and drinking him under that table, shot by shot, may also favor his experienced hand. Just as I figure challenging him to a face off using feats of strength, or mental agility, freestyle m.c.ing, or midget tossing would only lead to more of his horrible voluntarily joined despotic rule.
I’m pretty sure he is also behind the body in the church, he once kicked a police dog, regularly hovers, is invested heavily in Chinese lanterns, drinks Korbel, was overheard laughing while the Temple burned, just as he laughed at Dong touching all the boobs, he may have one time bartered away his place in line getting coffee at Center Camp, is a darkwad, claims to have the man-nantan-meteor, and has some familiarity in enabling sparkleponies. While the missing handmade leather jacket, heirloom jewelry, feather head-dress, expensive electronics and hotties listed under “Lost” can be found in his air-conditioned rv, powered by a 20 mega-decibel generator that runs on burgin blood.
So I’m figuring, at this point, the only ethical path I can take to end this reign of competent management is to obscure his license plates.