Published on July 24th, 2015 | by Richard Black0
Why I’m Not Writing About Darla Neugebauer
A story involving a diner owner in Portland Maine has been making the rounds and I’ve refrained from commenting on the subject for many reasons. The first being that I just haven’t had the time. I forgot the second reason but the third revolves around the fact that I’ve been waiting for someone to laud my sense of self restraint.
After all this sort of story is about as good as it gets when it comes to dad bloggers like myself; equivalent to being up for bat with the bases loaded when the pitcher hangs a slider or popping up at a happy hour to find Scarlett Johansson four martinis into the evening. Everyone’s going to try to hit that shit and my fellow blogger brethren have done so with great enthusiasm.
For those of you who have remained blissfully unaware (and I really do mean blissfully) the story involves diner owner Darla Neugebauer, a remarkably unhappy woman with a limited understanding the concept of customer service.
The short story is that Darla screamed at a toddler who had the gumption to be moderately fussy when asked to wait for forty minutes to eat breakfast. Darla took to Facebook to continue her crusade against ill-mannered children of all types in an invective riddled and grammatically challenged rant that would make the most drug addled of Hunter Thompson’s diatribes to appear lucid by comparison. Her Facebook page gained something like 9,000 new likes in a matter of hours (prompting me to reconsider my current public relations strategy) and quickly became the bastion of rational discourse one would expect.
As a father I’ve found it extremely difficult to refrain from gracing the public with my insights and it hasn’t been easy. If I chose to comment on Darla the Diner Owner’s behavior I suppose I would mention that anyone who feels it necessary to scream curses at a 21 month old child probably has a few issues. I’d certainly mention that I think it would be best if Darla reconsiders her line of work and moves into a field more suited to her personality like stomping on men’s testicles for money or screaming at stray puppies until they died.
I would most certainly posit a few reasons for Darla’s behavior. I might conjecture that she may have just been having a really bad day or that she missed her hormone replacement therapy shots that week. Perhaps she forgot to take her opium. I couldn’t say. The reasons for her actions will most likely never be known by anyone but a team of therapists selected by the state a few years from now once she bludgeons a patron to death with a waffle iron because he asked for another cup of coffee in a voice slightly louder than a whisper.
I could make all of these observations but I won’t.
Instead I’ve chosen to refrain from making any sort of opinion public because, quite frankly, I’m better than that. My only regret is that not a single person has noticed the quite dignity I’ve kept myself above the fray and I’d like to take this opportunity to berate all of you for your lack of understanding for my plight.
Do you have any idea how difficult it is to not come off as some self-serving, sanctimonious prick by pointing out that I’m not writing about Darla Neugebauer? Apparently you don’t and I’m now placed in the embarrassing situation of doing so myself. I’m better than that and I’m fairly disappointed at all of you for not recognizing that fact and the difficult position you’ve put me in.
Now please direct your attention to this picture of a donkey and note the complete and total lack of similarity between its expression and Darla Neugebauer.