An open letter to the person who stole my rear bike wheel at the Gloucester Train Station yesterday:
Dear Douchebag;
So, I stepped off the train yesterday to find you had run off with my real wheel. Really, Douchebag? Really? I was coming home from work… wait, I should explain. Work is this thing I do- It’s sort of cool. I go into Boston and do interesting stuff with technology and science and then they pay me money so I can buy the goods and services my family needs. You should go to your local library and check out this whole “having a job” business, you will learn all kinds of neat things. Many of the most famous people in history, for instance, had jobs. The Roman Emperor Valarian, (253-360 AD) had one and so does Snoop (1971-Present).
As you do your research you’ll find that not everyone has a job all the time, but even folks that don’t have one usually find other useful things to do like volunteer or get additional training. Based on what your skill set is probably like maybe you could offer to serve as ballast on a ship or as a large, lumpy thing to put in front of a door to keep it propped open. The point is, doing most anything is better than just sitting around, though that in and of itself is preferable to making a public nuisance of yourself as you have done.
It’s important to note that I had to purchase this bike last September after somebody stole my previous one (the beloved Madeline) from the exact same place you took my wheel. You’d think I’d wise up and not park my bike there, but I sort of don’t have a choice, that’s where the locking station is. I secure the front wheel to the frame with that great big chain you probably noticed, but I didn’t think anybody would be enough of a massive pestilent ass-boil as to unship my rear wheel, detach it from the bike and stagger off as you did. But here you are, proving me wrong. I guess in some weird way that’s a kind of public service you’re providing, sorta. Maybe you should still try out for the doorstop job though, just to keep your eyes on the prize.
So its drugs right? Maybe I’m still in denial, but I just can’t imagine that any non-impaired human mind has the potential to be this profoundly lame. Though I don’t have much experience myself I hear from some of the musicians I like speak frequently about how much fun drugs are. One time I even got stuck on a bus in a snowstorm next to this guy who for some reason found it necessary to spend seven hours explaining the supreme excellence of various specific types in exquisite detail, so, I get it. Drugs are fun. I too enjoy a number of recreational activities such as reading, boating and electronics. But, key difference here my man DB, if at any time I find myself thinking, “I should commit a petty crime so I can make a circuit board for this hobby project,” I will drop my soldering iron and seek help immediately. See the difference?
And it was a petty crime, wasn’t it? That’s another key point. Besides obviously having nothing to do in the middle of the day than steal people’s stuff, you haven’t even put very much effort into being a criminal. You took the back wheel off an unattended bike at the train station. Not exactly Professor Moriarty are we? (your local library will have information as to who Professor Moriarty is and why that’s funny.) Cool criminals from literature typically live by an internal code that define an alternate, but rigidly defined morality. You, on the other hand, live by a large pile of scratched lottery tickets and empty Natural Ice cans.
Yeah, I know poverty is endemic and addiction is a disease. I’m Irish and I grew up in Lynn, I didn’t need a sociology course to teach me that. I have plenty of sympathy for people in need and have been in need myself. But my rear wheel and hub are not a loaf of bread. Most people are able to make their way, even in the face of extreme hardship, without resorting to nuisance crime. You, on the other hand, are the kind who not only does, but also who will do so in such a brazenly stupid manner as to have a number of witnesses call the cops on you. Way to go, Lux Loser.
The harshest fact is this: if you’d come up to me at the train station and told me that you needed a rear wheel, I probably could have gotten you one (and one not one drilled out for Schrader valves with that goofy trailer-hub I have one there. Good luck figuring that out!). I have three of them at home; I know a bunch of people who have spares. People help each other out like that all the time. Dude, I got like ten emails after I posted the picture of my wheel-less bike on Facebook offering me a new one: “Just go take one out of my garage” said a friend on vacation in Utah.
In summary: A). Your life has become a waste of time and energy for the rest of us. B). This could be ameliorated somewhat if you were to find some useful task, like being dragged on the end of a line behind a boat to serve as bait for the shark over in Truro. C). You are even bad at crime. D). You gargle dog testicles.
Thank you,
Jim
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