Fishman here. Why the hell do I keep starting every article with “Fishman here?” And what’s with these Italics? They’re both pointless, so this will be the last time. Anyway, it’s true: some famous people hate me. Well…only two…and they don’t hate me THAT much…and one of them isn’t exactly famous…but what do you expect? I’m just some Jew from Long Island. We’re a dime a dozen. However, I guarantee that by the end of this article, you will never look at a certain hair product the same way again. GUARANTEED!

George Clooney

Believe it or not, this all starts with a middle school geography bee. Let’s pause and think right now: How the hell does a geography bee have to do with Hollywood superstar George Clooney hating me - Matt Fishman? It’s quite a fascinating story. It all began in 1996, when I was only 13 years old. My teacher gave everyone in class a geography test, which wasn’t going to count toward our grade. I don’t even know what the fuck it was for – we were just told that there were 25 questions. If we got 20 or more correct, we would receive a geography award. If I had the same mindset today, I wouldn’t even attempt the bee. It didn’t count, I would feel like a loser if I scored below a 20, and it was obvious that the award was going to be a “certificate.” I put certificate in quotes because it was only a piece of laminated construction paper with “CONGRATULATIONS!” stamped on it. But I was a spineless idiot and I took the bee.

Anyway, the test was actually really hard. It was intent on separating the gifted and those who would forever be shunned because they failed to reach 20 on some pointless test. I’m sorry, was that a rant? One question on the test asked, “Which country usually eats sashimi?” I had no idea what the fuck sashimi was, but one of the choices was Japan. As fate would have it, I recently bought Chrono Trigger, and one person in the game said something about sashimi. Since Chrono Trigger was made in Japan along with every other game at that time, I chose Japan. I was right. By the way, in case you’re wondering, someone said that sashimi thing on the flying island of Zeal in 12,000 B.C. That part of the game was so fucking awesome.

I scored a 20 out of 25 – the bare minimum to receive the award. That means Chrono Trigger is the reason that I won! The powers that be instructed all of the students who made the cut off to go into the cafeteria. The place was packed, which meant that the test couldn’t have been that hard, although I thought it was near impossible. As I was sitting and waiting to get my laminated construction paper, this kid I will name Pompous Douche sat next to me. Mr. Douche thought he was the smartest man on the planet and constantly belittled me because I, as we all know, am stupid.

“Fishman?” Pompous Douche said, taking a seat next to me. “What are YOU doing here? Wait, let me guess…you scored the minimum, right?” This kid actually said that. He really was a pompous douche.

“Yeah,” I responded, wishing that the motherfucker would not sit down next to me.

“Figures. I got a perfect score and I’m getting a special award.”

“Oh, that’s cool.” Inside, I was going, “FUCK YOU, POMPOUS DOUCHE!” Was I just going to sit there after he insulted me like that? No one insults Matthew Fishman, unless it’s an insult comedian that I paid to see! The long award ceremony came and went, and I held my lame ass certificate with limited enthusiasm. When that was all done, Pompous Douche was specially called up to receive his perfect score award. The cafeteria fell silent because I doubt anyone liked Pompous Douche. I was still feeling the urge for revenge, so as he was about to sit back down with his award, I grabbed his chair and pulled it out from under him. Pompous Douche fell right on his ass in front of a hundred students. The entire place erupted in laughter. The teachers were cracking up, too. I scored a total home run.

“Idiot!” Pompous Douche exclaimed, getting back onto his feet. “I can’t believe you did that!” Immediately, I felt terrible. I was about to apologize, but I held it in. The kid had it coming to him, right? He was a mean little asshole, right? As much as I tried to convince myself that I acted properly, I had a nagging guilt in my gut for humiliating Pompous Douche. From that day on, he always reminded me about what I did, like I was the victim of the prank.

“Hey FISHman,” he would say with a smirk, being the douche that he was. “Remember when you pulled out the chair from under me?” I was like, “Dude, shouldn’t you be the one not bringing that up?” Big deal – I knew that he was just some prick, so I ignored him.

By the grace of all that is holy, Pompous Douche moved away the next year. He moved to Los Angeles, near Beverly Hills. My friend Dan was good friends with Pompous Douche and talked to him online. According to Dan, Pompous Douche lived next door to George Clooney and he told George about what I did.

“Clooney wants to kick Fishman’s ass,” Pompous Douche told Dan. So there you have it, folks – George Clooney hates me. I can’t believe that pulling the chair out from under some kid ended up with a movie star wanting to beat me up.

Oh sure, this story is hard to swallow. Maybe Pompus Douche simply lied, which I do believe, but maybe – just maybe – George Clooney really said that and he really will kick my ass if he meets me. So I’ll just have to say this now: if you’re looking for me, Mr. Clooney, I’m here. Bring it on, Hollywood. This is an official challenge. You and me, George. No holds barred. Fuck you and fuck your little friend, too. I also know you have a back problem, so I already know where to hit.

The guy from the Just For Men box Just For Men is a hair coloring gel. You have definitely seen the commercials for it before. You may have even seen it in your local supermarket. Believe it or not, the guy on the box was a teacher in my high school. I kid you not. There are some varieties of Just For Men, but I think the basic one (black hair gel) has Mr. Hennessy on the box. He was a male model and he drove the girls and female teachers wild. Let me tell you – I’m as straight as an arrow, but he was one good-looking man. I’m not ashamed to admit that this man is handsome, and since he’s a professional model, I’m obviously right.

Good God, he IS intoxicating…

I never had Hennessy as a teacher, so I never talked to the guy. During senior year of high school, he was also made the head of detention…or something. Whatever the fuck he was, he came into classrooms and handed out detention dates to the students who were in trouble. I was a good kid, so even though Hennessy’s new position had him interacting with more students, I still never crossed paths with him.

After school one day, I was walking to my locker to get my books and head home. My friend Jordan, who had a locker right next to mine, always pretended to be breaking into my locker when he saw me approaching. That afternoon was no different. As Jordan fucked around with my lock, I took off my bookbag and flung it at him. It slid down the hall, past Mr. Hennessy who was talking to some other teacher, and collided with Jordan. Bullseye.

“Hey!” Mr. Hennessy yelled as I walked past him to my locker. “Don’t do that again!”

“Fine,” I said. I unlocked my locker and began packing the books I had to bring home. As I was doing this, a huge hand grabbed my shoulder from behind. I turned around to see Mr. Hennessy. I don’t care how good-looking you are - no one touches me. Especially if I don’t fucking know you.

“If you do that again, I’ll have to take you down,” he said.

“Hands off the material, Hennessy!” I retorted, yanking my shoulder free from his grip. “You don’t scare me, pretty boy! You or your goons!” Okay, that never happened. When Hennessy said, “If you do that again, I’ll have to take you down,” I responded with, “Okay! Okay!” I still yanked my shoulder free in an act of youthful rebellion.

What the hell did Mr. Hennessy mean by taking me down? Was he going to fucking tackle me? Why did he hate me? All I did was slide my bookbag down the hall, plus no one was around because it was after school! Mr. Hennessy is a nazi. There, I said it. Don’t buy Just For Men if you’re going gray. The model on the box is a nazi that will eat your family.

There is an update to this story. Apparently my memory is a little fuzzy, because when I brought up the story to my friend Jeremy, he told me that he was present during the whole thing. I realized that he was right because I always drove Jeremy home senior year, so he was always by my locker with Jordan. He was present during the whole Hennessy thing and also thought that the guy went overboard by grabbing me. According to Jeremy, Hennessy wasn’t speaking to a teacher – he was speaking to two female students and wanted to impress them by imposing his authority on me. I was just a mild-mannered student, Mr. Hennessy! You’ve transformed me into an angry young man ranting on a website! It’s your entire fault, man. It’s your entire fault.

The story doesn’t end there either. My dad told me that Hennessy no longer teaches at Hewlett. He is now a councilman in Long Beach, a beach town about 15 minutes away from me. Not surprisingly, he’s a Republican! It all makes sense now. To tell you the truth, I think my dad is thinking of a different Hennessy, but it makes a good conclusion.

That’s it, gang. I’m sorry that I don’t have more famous people that hate me, but fear not: I just bought a plane ticket to Beverly Hills so I can fight George Clooney. Maybe I’ll expose myself to a celebrity while I’m there so I can have another famous person that hates me. I’m looking at you, Clint Howard.

Questions? Comments? Are you a pompous douche? E-mail Fishman347@yahoo.com