How The Hell Are Only 30 People Following @BobDuato? (Subtitle: I’m On Vacation)

“You are now here to seek your retribution, Kenny Powers, in front of this nautical-themed gift shop complete with a great white shark edifice constructed by none other than BOB DUATO.”

When you image my personal life, I’m sure it’s not unlike a James Bond movie if James Bond made dick jokes about Paris Hilton instead of conducting high stakes espionage. Which isn’t far off except I get way more laid because Star Wars references make women’s underwear literally catch fire and then I swoop in while they’re unconscious. It a sensual dance. Anyway, leading such an exotic life can cause a man to lose sight of his roots and before you know it, he’s carrying fine smoked lox in his breast pockets and using Gwyneth Paltrow as a crude stick to ward off peasants until her shrill, bourgeois shrieking power grows hoarse. So to keep myself grounded, once a year I make a pilgrimage to the Redneck Riviera (Which apparently every single beach in the south is referred to as.) and spend an entire week experiencing the richness of the American South in all it’s commercialized splendor and tourist trap glory. There’s just something hypnotic about cramming 85 pounds of calabash into your gullet then stumbling out into the night to watch rotund, white Christian golfers cheat on their wives with strippers before getting into their mammoth, “Nobama” stickered SUVs and driving home to complain about gays ruining the sanctity of marriage. Most likely through the butt. And by hypnotic I mean this is where I bottle up all my hate for the year because, if the world is a school, America’s the kid in the helmet who spends all day jacking off in the corner.

On that note, Photo Boy will be handling the reins until I get back next Monday, so go easy on him because one day, years from now, he’ll usurp me as the writer of this blog but only after besting me in combat, removing my head with a sword and absorbing the dick joke lightning that escapes from the wound. It’s all very scientific.

Don’t raise up on me,

- The Superficial

Photo: Me, amateur paparazzo. (Anyone know how long it takes a shark to flash its beav? Just curious.)