BOSTON — Local Bostonian Shawn Williams is still as much of an asshole as any other 47-year-old white male in the region despite his lifelong abstention from alcohol and utter disinterest in athletic competitions, reported several sources who smelled like if a cigarette could grow mildew.
“I’ve been tight with Shawn since third grade,” friend Peter Sullivan said. “And like me and every other dude we grew up with and our kids, he’s always been an asshole. But I swear to Brady, you’ll never hear of him downing eight nips and then throwing the empties at the dude at Kane’s because of the Bruins getting knocked out of the playoffs. And no, it’s not like he has an ankle monitor or anything, I promise. I mean, he did like five years ago, but not anymore.”
Williams cites his traumatic upbringing as helping shape him into becoming the man he is today.
“My most formidable memory occurred during the 1986 Major League Baseball championship series. A Boston Red Sox player made an apparently crucial error that resulted in my gin-soaked father throwing our television through our front window,” Williams said. “My father had been my hero but I knew right then and there that I would be a boorish lout like him and my eight older brothers, but I would do so without the corrupting influences of alcohol and athletics.”
Sociologist Elaine Ashley says Williams “challenges and upends” notions of residential determinism that had long been accepted as true among the scientific community.
“While not common, it’s not unheard of for a Bostonian of Williams’ demographics to substitute a dependency on alcohol with one on wearing the same unwashed Johnny Damon jersey they’ve had since 2004 every goddamn day, or to be so consistently loaded that it’s for the best that they not care about sports for the sake of the greater public,” Ashley said. “What is unheard of is for neither quality to be present. And yet, he’s still unmistakenly a complete and utter dickhead. Even more than the rest of them, honestly.”
At press time, Williams was opening his third daily serving of Sanpellegrino Limonata “chilled to precisely 42°F” and preparing to record an episode of his podcast about how “the architecture of New York reflects the city’s inability to cohere grandeur and warmth.”
