C’mon, Anthony. You know you had to have seen that coming.

Yeah. Sorry. The jokes not only write themselves, they’re positively unavoidable.

All those years in grade school, trying to get the other kids to talk about something besides your unfortunate name. All the puns, all the snickers. Every kid acting like it’s the first time you’ve heard the joke. Until you just wanted to scream, right?

And that was before you’d even done anything to deserve the ridicule. As far as I know.

Then there was that one regrettable little incident. Damn Breibart anyway, right? But you should have known technology is a big help in getting yourself in deep. You know, when you abuse it. That’s meant to be a private vice, Anthony. But no, you had to share. Nobody asked you to do that, Anthony.

And now you’re back. You figured that if NYC would put up with a dick like Bloomberg, wait’ll they get a load of you. Right? What, were you drunk? Bloomberg at least knew to keep the cameras away when he dropped trou. You wielded the camera yourself.

As somebody who went to (a lot of) public schools cursed with a risible name, I should have sympathy. But I’m not that big a person, and all I can muster is schadenfreude.