fresnosucks01

[fresnosucks01]

“Daddy, Am I Special?”

“Daddy, am I special?“ asks every annoying suburban kid when they are in grade school. It is a way of reconciling the stress of being in a social environment that makes you realize that you are ordinary, and the immense amount of pampering that suburban American parents subject their kids to. This is especially true if you are White American. You are told that if you play your cards right, you can, one day, be The President of the United States of America. 

Some people as they grow, as they learn, and they mature, as they are exposed to culture, they grow out of this validation seeking phase. We learn to slowly accept our insignificance until of course, we do something that is truly significant.

But you can’t expect a bunch of Fresno kids, sheltered from the multicultural, civilized world that we happen to live in, living in their little White bubble, to grow up. So, you end up with what one can call the #FresnoFamous crowd. 

The #FresnoFamous crowd moves from some filthy ranch in Clovis to an equally filthy, and insanely overpriced (no, seriously, like $2000/Month) studio in Downtown Fresno, and is delusional enough to have that “rags to riches” story published in some inconsequential local newspaper. Oh, the #FresnoFamous crowd, they promise you Absinthe in the opening night of their Downtown Mall (*GROAN*), so you fly from San Diego to see them, only to realize that it’s Gin and tonic with sprayed “Absinthe flavoring.” #FresnoFamous crowd rolls together. If you ever see a crowd of girls with the haircuts of popular girls from 80s movies (and equally outdated fashion sense), and guys whose fashion sense has not evolved since their fraternity days, you know you are amongst the #FresnoFamous. If you see a group of self-absorbed in-group people at the bars, you know that you among the legendary #FresnoFamous.

As an outsider who occasionally visits my Alma Mater, Fresno State, I see them at bars, and at every social function that I attend. I see their social media posts accepting awards, such as Fresno 40 Under 40, or Best Employee at Home Depot, or Best Car Salesperson at Jimmy Bob’s Kia Lot, or The Best Social Media Manager at Mom’s Bakery. And I can’t help but wonder if these are the same people who carry around mugs that say “Daughter # 1,” “Son of The Year,” etc, well into their 30s. Oh, the Walmart wisdom of the #FresnoFamous. One of these specimens, actually, once tried to lecture me on Country Club Etiquette (of course this was a country club where people wore Levis and Cowboy boots and MAGA hats). 

Because in the eternal ennui of being stuck in the middle-of-nowhere, of the boredom of suburban soon-to-be soccer mom, and hockey dad nightmares, one must make sure that get an award for the Best Dressed Maid at the Barn Dance hosted by The Rotary Club, and Social Media King award at the local Young-People-Who-Like-Coke-And-Tequila club yearly gala. Well, #FresnoFamous all I am going to say is, you know who else got the 40 Under 40 award, the douchebag Manager at the Local-Gym-for-People-Who-Can’t-Read-Good (True Story, different gym, of course). 

But by all means, do continue to post your pictures from, and continue telling out-of-towners, and people from the civilized world, about the award you won at the Local-Bearded-And-Hatted-Lawyer’s Gala ((and they do brag)). But just know that we are laughing at you, from the coast.  

[fresnosucks01]

The Great White Hope of Fresno, CA. Dressed like an accountant, armed with the arrogance of a man who never had to earn anything (because daddy funded  everything), hear Mr. Nobody explain to you why you should move to the least sexy city in the U.S.