NICE GUYS FINISH LAST

I’ve decided to be a bad guy. A louse. A no-good, irredeemable, malignant, nasty, nefarious, unscrupulous, vile son of a bitch. I tried to be a good guy. I’ve helped old ladies cross the street. Put my coat in a puddle so a pretty woman wouldn’t get her feet wet. I’ve donated time and money to charities and the community. I’ve been a good friend, a good son, a good brother and so forth. Trust me, I’m not stroking my ego here. I am a deeply flawed person, but I’ve always had good intentions, and I’ve always put others before me. I even created The Timmy Fund, which is like The Jimmy Fund, except all the money goes to one boy named Timmy. Timmy isn’t even sick. He’s just a nice kid and I wanted to help him out. Timmy is now 13, worth $15 million dollars and no longer returns my phone calls. But I still love him to pieces. Anyway, my point is, I’ve tried to be an altruistic, kindhearted, caring, benevolent and philanthropic person for 33 years.

But not anymore.

Because here is a fact, folks, an irrefutable axiom that, once you understand and accept it, will change your life forever: Nice Guys Finish Last.

I began to realize this during my marathon training. Even though I was running more and drinking less (I cut down from 9 days of drinking a week to 7. I invented two new, imaginary days—Runday and Laturday—so I could pretend I wasn’t getting drunk daily), my times were getting slower. At first, I thought it was my running shoes. I had went the costly route and bought the most expensive running sneakers in the world: Nike Gold. The sneakers are literally made from two bars of gold, and while they look fabulous, they weigh 50 pounds apiece. Running with those things feels like Kirstie Alley is holding onto my ankles.

So I got new sneakers (Nike Steel—they’re made from the popular alloy, and are 20 pounds lighter), but that STILL didn’t work. I tried changing my diet, and switched from all-fried food fare to a regimen of amphetamines, steroids and painkillers, but that didn’t cut it, either. Flustered and fatigued, I started to realize that every time I committed a good act or deed, I got SLOWER. If I held the door for someone, that cost me 10 seconds. If I said “Please” or “Thank You” to someone, that cost me 15. If I helped out a co-worker who was behind schedule, that was 20. You get the point…

What verified and validated my assumption was when I checked the history of EVERY marathon ever run. And, you know what? In EVERY SINGLE FRIGGIN’ race, a NICE GUY FINISHED LAST. It’s unbelievable. In fact, everybody who finished at the tail end of the field in every marathon was a Nice Guy. Immorality has prevailed in every marathon, sport, business and enterprise since the beginning of man. Checking the fastest runners in the history of men’s marathons backed it up for me: These guys—all the winners and frontrunners—were PURE EVIL. And they were speedy!

So that did it for me. Gone are the days of goodness, righteousness and rectitude. Integrity and probity my ass! I’m no Luke Skywalker. I’m Darth Vader, baby! I bow to the altar of Hannibal Lecter, Freddy Krueger and Kiefer Sutherland in THE LOST BOYS. Wait, those aren’t real people. Well, I guess that’s beside the point.

Ever since I’ve dedicated myself to a life of wrongdoing and peccancy, my legs have felt stronger, I’ve had more energy and I’m the fastest I’ve ever been. Man, it’s awesome being a rotten son of a bitch. So for all of you out there in TV Land who are reading this and want to change your un-wayward ways, here’s a list of unforgivable acts I’ve recently committed to make myself a worse (and therefore better) person:

DARTMAN’S ACTS OF DIABOLICAL CRUELTY TO MAKE HIMSELF A FASTER RUNNER

1) I laughed uncontrollably at the end of MILLION DOLLAR BABY.
2) I became a Cub Scout leader, and took a group of 11-15 year old boys on a 30-mile hike in the Adirondacks. Come nightfall, I abandoned them without food, water or shelter and sprayed their bodies with a special homemade concoction that enrages and attracts carnivorous bears.
3) I pretended that I was terminally ill and was granted a wish by the Make A Wish Foundation. My wish was for them to never grant another wish to another sick child again. Bound by their rules, they had to agree, and thus, the Make A Wish Foundation exists no longer.

I could go on with my multitude of transgressions, but I just swiped a wallet from a blind man on the subway and am feeling particularly fast today. I gotta tell you, people, it feels good being this bad. Like I said, nice guys finish last…

STATS FOR THURSDAY 8/15

DRINKING
10 Beers

RUNNING
Nada

SLEEPING
5 hours

NUMBER OF SONGS I DRUNKENLY SANG ALONG TO DURING THE NEIL DIAMOND CONCERT
3