Hello futuristic internet journalists (Bitter Ben calls them bloggers? Sounds like a buddy of mine who works in a forest cutting down trees.) My name is Bitter Bartholomew and I was asked by Bitter Ben to do a guest post? Not sure what that means, but I have allowed to use my post as a guest as well. Instead I decided to write some words on this fancy typewriter and tell you a bit about me. I am a distant ancestor of Bitter Ben. I am the first in a long of line of gifted bitterests, and I looks like Ben is carrying the torch quite bitterly. In fact, if there was ever a prophesy about the ONE that would bring bitterness to all the world, Ben would probably at least know that guy. In fact, it looks like his Bitter Blog has been clicked on and ignored in like 170 different countries. In my day, I was lucky to infect my neighbor.
So, you are probably wondering what the heck someone like me from the 1800’s is doing here. Or more appropriately how I got here. Well, my neighbor’s ancestor Doc Brown invented a time machine in 1985, and somehow he ended up here. He was going on about a “space-time” continuum and how if he didn’t blah blah then 1985 would be wrecked. So I was out one day, farming some dirt when I noticed the stupid horseless carriage was idling and I went to turn it off. I accidently pushed the gas got the speed thingy to 88 and I started traveling to different times and places by accident. The first place I ended up was England in 1589. I ran into this hack poet that was trying to write this story about some girl that was from a gang and this other boy that was in another gang and they were “so in love” that they decided to die for each other. Holy crap, how stupid is that! Even worse, he was talking about how someday Leo DiCaprio would play the lead. Then he was mumbling something about Claire Danes. I think he was freaking delusional. I told him that and he decided not to write anymore. Good decision. Anyways, I remember his name be Billy Shakespear or something? Wow. That guy will never amount to anything.
In my next trip, I ended up in Boston in 1876. If figured since I was there, I would try to make Boston as bitter as possible. I put curses and hexes on all their sports teams for years, making them the angry and bitter. I also ran around telling people that New York was way better than Boston, thus giving them an inferiority complex. As I was wandered the street of Boston, trying to destroy other people’s lives, I ran into this guy with a big bushy beard. He was working with some wires, and bells and whistles and was trying to “make” something. It looked like he was having some sort of “breakthrough”, but really it was just a bunch of wires that were making his voice all screechy. He kept mumbling something about a telephone. I was kind of laughing at him like, “You’re kidding right? Have you even seen a phone? Does that thing even have 3G? Where are the apps? You don’t even have any music on that! How many pixels on that camera? 1?” Needless to say, he just gave up on inventing the “telephone”. Doesn’t he know that Steve Jobs invented it?
My next trip lead me to Kitty Hawk, NC. It was really cold out, I remember, because I was using the weather to power the bitterness I would make others feel. I checked the date on the time machine and it said December 17, 1903. I saw these two old guys out flying kites. They were putting kites on the bicycles and it looked like they were having trouble getting them in the air. I said, “Hey, you know I know a guy that used a kite to discover electricity. His name was Bitter Ben Franklin.” They weren’t too interesting in getting shocked, but trying to fly. So, of course, I hatched an evilly bitter plan to tell them a certain area that ”was better for flying”. They ended going over to a field that was a little more, shall we say, electric? They burnt the wings right off the “airplane” and decided to give up. Quitters. Good thing Boeing and Pan Am invented flight later, or else I would blame these guys for screwing up all the flights that caused Bitter Ben to be late for his Thanksgiving dinner every year.
So that leads me to this place, Seattle, 2014 and I am looking to screw up or make bitter anyone else before I leave this place. Some people call me the Bitter Forrest Gump, while others call me the Bitter Quantum Leap Guy. Either way, while it has been bitter to be here in 2014 to meet my future (I’ve never been so proud of how my future bitterness is turning out), I just want to get home and annoy my dirt farm neighbor who was making so much noise with this stupid time machine and leave the worldwide bitterness to Ben. Well, I have to go or Bitter Ben won’t ever let me guest post again.
Bitter Future Bartholmew