Bobby D'Angelo
As we all know and Twitter won’t let us forget, on January 6th of this past year something monumental/horrible (pick one based on your politics, I’m not going to tell you what to think as a twenty-one year old jackass in front of a keyboard) happened at the Capitol. Around the same time, I was heading to the airport to visit my girlfriend when I noticed that my roommate, Tony, had dropped a bowl of chili on our living room floor. Tony is fucking disgusting, and I’ve cleaned up after him since we became friends to the point where I was putting my foot down about this whole chili thing. I told him that if I came back a week later and the chili was still sitting on the floor, I was going to be pissed.
Sure enough, one week later, the chili was still sitting on the floor, and this motherfucker is passed out with his hand in sour cream and onion dip on our couch. I snapped. I took my shit and moved back in with my parents for the remainder of winter break. I was midway through writing a blog on January 6th when a buddy of mine (shoutout Joe Rogan) texted me to turn on the TV. It looked like those kids that stormed Lollapalooza years ago on bath salts. It looked like the island of misfit toys went to Party City after reading books about revolution. Say what you want about the whole thing, but there’s no denying the event’s severity; people fucking died.
Weeks went by, and both the left and right were looking to hold the people involved accountable. And that’s when the FBI put out this tweet.
As I mentioned before, this was a very serious situation with REAL consequences. I mean, who the fuck leaves a bowl of chilli on the ground for a week?! That’s disgusting. So yeah, I found a picture of Tony where he looks like he’d fit right in between the guy in the Viking outfit and the dude who put his feet up on Pelosi’s desk, and I told the FBI that they could find him at our house in New Brunswick next to a bowl of moldy chilli.
Months passed. Nothing happened.
This morning Tony took the day off work to drink on his boat. My buddy was at his house, when he sent me this text.
We were all baffled, and then we remembered the Tweet. I didn’t actually think that the FBI would show up to Tony’s house over something that was clearly a joke. I figured that maybe he’d get a call from them at most where he could just explain that his friend is a dick. But that’s because I didn’t remember the content on Tony’s Twitter account would point to all the signs of a Capitol breacher.
Moral of the story: don’t leave chili on the ground.
