Worst Date Ever

A few years ago I was having dinner with a seemingly pleasant young lady at one of my favorite restaurants. It was a first date so the coversation was mostly about background and hobbies, but suddenly the woman made the erroneous assumption that since we shared one obscure opinion I'd naturally go along with all of her crackpot theories.

The statement she made went something like this: "I agree, Todd. Belly's sophomore release KING was one of the most underrated post-alternative albums of the mid-nineties. And, I'm sure you'll concur, there wasn't a holocaust."

My first thought was "How can a Belly fan be a Nazi?" Then I realized "Christ almighty, I'm at Ramsi's Cafe on the World with a fascist." I guess her small square mustache should have tipped me off.

I sat in stunned silence, then managed "That Simon Weisenthal is such a liar," before I bolted from my chair and went screaming into the evening darkness.

I don't know what happened to that woman, but I have a feeling it involved the Sean Hannity Fan Club.