The Subtle Subterfuge of Severo

I just thought I'd announce in advance that the blog posts for Friday-Sunday will likely be quite short, something I'm sure many of you will be happy to hear. I'm actually going to be up in Atlanta this weekend for the Atlanta Cask Ale Tasting on Saturday and will be hanging out at Twain's and the Brick Store in Decatur that evening before driving home on Sunday. Between packing and the three-to-four-hour drive tonight (and my inability to access my blog from work), the fest and other activities on Saturday and the drive back home on Sunday, I'll be pushing it to get anything published in a timely manner, much less getting my usual lengthy, researched posts about whatever flicker of my mind catches my interest first.

Speaking of Saturday, Julie, you and Matt should come hang out with us at the Brick Store after the fest. I'm still bitter about your unnecessary abuse of my ego, but your husband is still a perfectly decent human being.

With apologies to Severo for borrowing his shtick without asking, here's today's blog in which I slam another blogger by using his own posts against him.

I'm starting to become convinced that Severo is a liar, not about being an uncaring ass; he doesn't do a very good job of keeping up that persona as it is, but about something entirely more problematic. The first clue is his recent reference to his being "as pure as the driven snow". Sure, this could be true. Some people hold onto their virginity because of their values, their fear, or their lack of sex appeal, but I've got a feeling we all know that Severo would only have a chance at claiming one of those reasons if he's honest.

However, another post of his shakes us to our very core and forces us to realize that our self-loathing Mayan "friend" has been playing us for fools. Or at least me. In the aforementioned post, Severo discusses shopping for new underwear for a date in a relatively new relationship and how effective said underwear was. Now, I'm happy that Severo is out and dating. Honestly, I was getting a little worried that the poor boy was going to pass his expiration date and end up an old man-spinster surrounded by his collection of cats, or, knowing Severo, his collection of small, rodent-like dogs. However, it's obvious that Severo's date got to see these magical underoos, which, it being so early in the relationship, would strongly suggest that Severo is, I hate to say, a whore.

Now, I went on a couple of dates (literally two) before meeting K, and those two girls never once caught a glimpse of what I had under my jeans. Sure, it was because I didn't have a chance in hell of showing them and would have dropped trou in a heartbeat had the opportunity arisen, but the fact remains that I've never shown my underwear to anyone I didn't eventually marry and procreate with.

So, if Severo is comfortable to lie to us poorly about his purity, what else is he making up? Severo went to college in Kentucky and in this article written about his love for Mario Kart (it is a freaking sweet game, by the way) mentions that the game had dominated the living rooms of adolescent America. How would a Central American immigrant know this? Central America is not America. Only America is America and I'm sure our esteemed president would agree with me on this. In fact, I'm quite sure that he even played the game in its Super Nintendo incarnation and made his kart jump to the beguiling refrains of "Jump" by that seminal rap group Kris Kross. Sure, Mr. Liarface may try to tell us that he came here as a child and that explains his knowledge of American pop culture and his lack of whacky accent, but really, have you ever met a Belizean immigrant besides Severo? I think not. They don't exist. All Belizeans stay in Belize at all times. Have you seen their tourism board's advertising slogan? Would you want to leave a place with a slogan like that?

Here's the likely truth about our little brown buddy. He's from southern Indiana where his great-grandparents were engineers from Guatemala who immigrated to the state around 1902. Sure, he went to college in Kentucky, but I have trouble seeing Severo having been a product of that particular state. He was on the debate team and drama club in high school and went by the nickname "The Mexican Mutilator" on the tennis courts, which explains his disdain for our regal neighbors to the south. My nickname on the tennis courts was "Cod," which is why I hate fish, and my former teammates. He was a fan of NKOTB when NKOTB was still cool. He had a poster of them on his bedroom wall and took the slightly unconventional path of thinking that Danny was, in fact, the cute one.

So, the next time that Severo makes some exotic, interesting, or bizarre claim about himself, slap him in the face and offer him a pork tenderloin sandwich. I guarantee he'll snatch that baby up and start chowing down on the state food of Indiana before he has a chance to put up his guard and get back into character.

And, I know I lied about the length of today's post, but I got on a roll. Don't expect this on Saturday, though. I'll be typing it out with a stylus tapping against the screen of my HP iPAQ and I'll likely be at some level of intoxication. That means more fun for you, but fewer words for me.