The following article was written as a form of therapy for the criminally deranged. Though the events are true, and the people are stupid…. actually no, the events are true, and the people are stupid, I couldn’t think of a silver lining.
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This blog entry is dedicated to the story of my descent into the depredation of street crime. What could push an otherwise friendly, outgoing young man to commit such deceitful acts? Well, prepare for this story of desperation, frustration, and despair…all in the jungle of San Francisco.
The beginning of this life journey from honors student to common thug is surprisingly a tale of two Rutgers students. I am, as I have just noted, the villain in this diabolical twist of evil with terrible destiny. The second man is one of extreme integrity, a pillar of the community, and above all a man’s man. For the sake of anonymity we will call this lad Greg P., wait, no no, that’s too obvious for those of you who know the situation, lets just call him G. Parnas (ah Simpson’s references have an extremely long half-life in my sense of humor). Here is a photo of his license to avoid confusion.

This photo is not a violation of Greg's privacy for one important reason, he had no expectation of privacy in this situation, you will see why as we move forward through the Chronic-what-cles of Parnia (Another bad reference I know, but I wrote this on a red-eye from San Francisco, so feel free to be generous here with a laugh). I did, however, redact several portions of the license due to moral considerations and leaving for the possibility that Greg's family has some decency.
The reader will understand why it would be morally wrong for me to allow you to confuse this person with anyone else as the story develops. Additionally, it should be noted, to save the dense some shame, that the photograph of his license is being used here as a foreshadowing device.
Although I will not tell you that Greg is a bigoted idiot who
honestly believes racial profiling to be a good policy or is a person who sleeps on airplane seat cushions while drooling on the seat (This pose was to satisfy Greg’s ex post facto complaint that he “Can’t sleep in any other position”, the criminals in our group still actually believe that it was because he likes to be close to the resting place of some odd 10,000 Asses, adding to the validity of this argument was the fact that his head was only an inch away from another perso
ns ass, this certainly adds weight to my gang’s argument). It is important, however, for character development, to note that the young lad has never lost an argument in his life; this astonishing record largely is a result of anecdotal evidence acquired during his “Birth Right” trip to Israel, but Greg is humble about this Universal Truth granted to him by wealthy Jewish-donors.
The story also includes two minor characters; nonetheless they happened to be roughly equivalent to Greg in intelligence (Obviously this means that their brilliance cannot be described using the banal language of normal humans, much less, that of a common criminal). For the sake of expediency, we will call these persons Adorable, Selfless, and often Sensuous 1 and 2. (We can abbreviate these apt names to ASS 1 and ASS 2: Pictured Below). Let us assign ASS 1 to the brunette and ASS 2 to the blond. To tell you the truth that wasn't really expedient at all, it was really for the fun of it but it ends up being much easier for the reader to tell who are the good guys and the bad guys in the story. Obviously they are good and I am bad.

Now, to begin our examination of the events leading up to my rejection of Kantian ethics and Lockean property theory. We begin just after the closing ceremony of a UN conference at Berkeley. Yes I am a dork, but all of the characters in the story were there voluntary, thus we have parity. Sitting conversing pleasantly in the lobby, myself and several of the other disreputable members of the organization were unaware of the criminal conspiracy into which we were about to enter. Also without knowledge of our evil designs, ASS 1 and ASS 2 came over to us, after leaving their delay-fully(SIC)-overloaded luggage (ASS 2's luggage was so heavy they wouldn't let it on the airplane and we had to wait for her, though not for overly long, it is still pretty funny) with the bellhop, ASS 2 told us that she was “Leaving right now” stating that she had already purchased a bus pass and we all had to leave immediately. Not quite knowing what she was talking about, the rest of us followed, though we were all pretty hungry, and I think I can speak for the majority here, we vagabonds were hoping to steal some lunch the near future.
ASS 2 began to speed walk down to a bus stop (This thoughtful notion was designed to form a more cohesive unit of people who would not easily be fractured…the best laid plans…) leaving us trailing behind to plot various sinister machinations with the crazy lady warning us not to take her picture, even though no one was even holding a camera. Lucky for ASS 2 she was able to capture a bus before we were stranded, although most of us had to run desperately to catch up with her.
Once on the bus, the real criminality began. Myself and the group of fiends schemed to split a wedge in the group. “How to best do this?” we thought. Our plan ended up being speaking jovially to one another in a delicious attempt to force ASS 1 and ASS 2 to sit whispering and laughing at how devious my gang was being. We knew that by making the two ASSes act childishly, we could coerce a split of the group and achieve our dastardly and devilish drive to eat lunch, possibly with dessert. This is where my truly conniving self began to form. Before you understand how terrible I truly was on this day, we need to talk about the pandemic known as Wallet Frustration; this is sometimes referred to by true experts as Wallet Utilization Sans Sanity (WUSS).
Some may assert that wallet frustration, or the WUSS epidemic, is not a real problem, but the morons who deny this enormous “discomfort” are like people who claim that cheerleading is not a true sport, WUSSes know the truth! A money storage device can form a wallet sized area of pain and suffering throughout many young men’s bodies. Victims of WUSS syndrome will often attempt to, as the skeptics say, “Pawn” their wallets off on other people to save themselves of this tremendous discomfort. The real miracle is that all men are not WUSSes (This is the informal usage of the acronym, though it is still wildly accepted among professionals in the Wallet Frustration field).
The most devastating effect of the WUSS disease is that lowlifes, such as me, are willing to sweep in to take the all of the assets from the Wallet-Frustrated, rendering the average WUSS completely useless. You might, however, be surprised by the methods necessary to accomplish the task of making a WUSS useless. Understand that WUSSes are used to having people try to rob them. Sadly, they have endured years of being easy marks, so one cannot simply ask for a WUSS’s wallet, that’s far too simple. However, this apparent obstacle was easily surmounted by my sharp criminal mind. Rather than asking for the wallet, I played hard to get, by barely speaking to our WUSS in question, Greg Parnas. When the pain of Greg’s wallet discomfort overtook him, as a result of an onerous 20 minute bus ride, he came to me like a bee to honey; more accurately like a wuss (sic) to a large intelligent man when scared for his safely in the big city. But, Greg is no wuss, he’s a victim of WUSS syndrome, therefore the lure of my ignoring him was too great to fight. He asked me, “Can I put my wallet in your bag.” Knowing that the WUSS might grow suspicious if I readily accepted his offer, I declined several times. This reverse psychology is quite powerful when used on a serious WUSS victim. Pretty soon he was obnoxiously begging me to put his wallet in my bag. HA, and I had him thinking that I just did it to make him shut up so I could ride my bus in peace! I know now that my devious actions were wrong, but a WUSS is prey that a man cannot simply walk away from. You should understand the reverse psychology that I deviously used establishes thoughts of “Mobile ATM” in the minds of a true WUSS. The WUSS thinks, “Wow I can have a large man carry my money and dispense it as I need it? What more could a short-little WUSS want?”
Viola! Another silly WUSS loses his wallet. I told you that Wallet Frustration was a serious disease, ranking up there with the male species' slightly less serious malady, erectile dysfunction.

(I photoshopped this picture using scenes from Alice in Wonderland and a picture I took months ago of the Verrazano Bridge, obviously)
As we arrived at the Golden Gate Bridge, my intrigue was in full effect. Parnas the WUSS had no idea that he was about to befall a fate worse than actually carrying his own wallet. This is where the plan of my gang to split from the ASSes and my plan to misappropriate the funds of a genuine WUSS combines seamlessly into our ultimate and terrible plan. To begin I was pretending to take pictures of the bay area, knowing all along that a couple ASSes and a WUSS cannot stop from climbing to the top of the bridge. In this manner, I was able to avoid knowing that the group had split, that a meeting point was set, or that Greg needed his wallet back. In the absence of this information, which I purposely avoided, I was able to “innocently” prepare to go get lunch, with all of the WUSSes assets in my evil clutches. When I later told people of the situation they asked me rather obtusely, “Didn’t the ASSes and WUSS have an obligation to ask you if you wanted to wait for them until they got back down from the bridge?” Silly question, keep in mind, that in a WUSS’s thought pattern, his designated ATM would obviously wait for him wherever he wanted. It isn’t the WUSS’s fault that it would be too painful to walk up a bridge with his wallet; people should be kind enough to serve him according to his needs. This situation means that it was somewhat like stealing candy from a baby. Well actually usually a baby puts up more of a fight over candy to be honest with you, this WUSS just walked off without his wallet and without discussing a manner in which to get it back. Now if that were a normal person and not a WUSS that would be incredibly inane. Leaving yourself economically dependent on a person, and abandoning that person without telling him anything about the plan, would be the apparent action of a complete and utter moron with no conception of responsibility. However, for a WUSS this situation likely happens all the time, and he deserves pity not blame. Often a WUSS will have his mommy or daddy carry his wallet (people that would willingly act as the sort of mobile ATMs that a WUSS needs); however, in the absence of his parents, the WUSS is incredibly vulnerable, to the point that he seems to have an abnormally low IQ. Still, we took advantage of poor Greg and abandoned five members of the group, some might have thought that I was the abandoned one, but anyone who thinks that is dumb.
Now we all know that five people in a city will surely die if one is left wallet-less, even if that person is a WUSS. Lending money surely could not have saved them…that’s just an idiotic plan. So during my call to Greg, in order to give him the old thief’s line, “I’ll give you your wallet back when we meet up later, borrow money for now,” the WUSS came out swinging. “So essentially you’re stealing my wallet! Just wait for me at the bottom of the bridge!” Well, I was incensed that he had discovered my evil plan so I told him what amounted to a large number of base threats and ended by saying, “You can’t call me a thief, I’m gunna (parentally censored) take you down a notch.” This rhetoric is usually enough to stifle a WUSS’s complaints, and sure enough Greg hung up on me. There was certainly reason for someone to question my moral values, since I had intended to swindle that little WUSS the whole time! Now in order to prevail in the situation I needed to get far away, So we pretended that we were still hungry, hopped in a cab and drove over the bridge; thus leaving the two ASSes, the WUSS, and two innocents on the bridge to die, OR so we thought! Soon we learned that a group of five people can survive with a wallet-less WUSS. This turn of events was quite troubling, as my gang of hooligans enjoyed burgers across the bay from San Francisco through the use of WUSS funds, we thought about the possibilities of ending up on Alcatraz Island, permanently. We secretly put back all of his money and belongings and planned to return the wallet to the WUSS as if it were all a misunderstanding precipitated by an idiotic and irresponsible move on Greg’s part.

These are before and after pictures of the WUSS’s ransacked wallet. Say hi to him if you see the dude, also please apologize to him for my depravity (BTW I did not actually write on his DL, that's digital, fools).
Afterward the ASSes became even more ASS-like, the WUSS actually carried his wallet and E. Martin DeLuca (Whom I now call Chairman Mao) forced an Airline co-pilot to be late to the airport, causing the genius, ASS 1, to miss a class, fail a test, and therefore not graduate (Curse Martin for the lost potential brilliance!). She proceeded to bemoan this tragedy for the next hour on the airplane while others, including myself, tried to rudely sleep away our worries. This fate could land on any genius who is also an ASS or WUSS…
DISCLAIMER: The above events are all completely true, verifiable by multiple witnesses (Feel free to leave testimonials in the comments section, you all know who you are). In light of this fact, it is the purpose of the author to build sympathy for the individual who had his wallet, “stolen.” The author bears no responsibility for the actions of individuals who would wish further emotional stress for this victim of the high crimes and misdemeanors that were clearly perpetrated by the author. All names were...hell I just used his name because I am mostly uncreative and I wanted to use the “Parnia” joke however lame it may have been.