Yo baby, I got what you need...unless, for some reason, you need chest hair
Meet the A-man. In case you didn’t notice…he’s a douche. I first met the A-man back in the early part of the century when I wrote this anti-advice column. Perhaps I was a bit too harsh when I encouraged him to commit suicide, so I guess I am sort of glad that he didn’t. I mean, kinda.
Five or six years later, he’s still going strong. He’s giving shitty advice to people that don’t exist, posting embarrassing pictures of himself, pretending like he has a “staff” that fears and admires him and failing to break the 6,000,000 mark in Alexa ratings. I wonder what the A-man actually does for a living, since it’s clear that his shitty website isn’t a source of income. Do you think he’s working in somebody’s mail room with his purple shirt open like that? He’s got to be pretty well off to afford to employ all those people who don’t create any content. But really, who is “The man”? ““He’s our boss and the host of this entertainment web site. Please don’t make him mad at us. He’s a huge pain-in-the-ass to work for when he’s mad at one of us. We fear him *shudder*.”
Yes, I could see how working for the “A-man” could be a very intimidating process. I looks like if you cross him he might take you on an adventure to our nation’s capital where you’ll be posed against your will in front of historic monuments and made to stare at the camera all tough and serious like you’re a member of Orlano’s newest boy band.
I leave you with a challenge mockateers – go out into the internet and find me a bigger self-absorbed, self promoting douchewhore than this guy. Doesn’t he look like he just farted one of the gayest farts to ever get farted?
Pictures and graphics used without permission.