A Coronation of Chaos

Another month, another tabloid. Your humble Tony, gossip priest, and marinara enthusiast is here to deliver the hottest scoop hotter than Sunday gravy.

Last month, we exposed Matt and TonyTheTailor ’s late-night rendezvous disguised as “suit fittings.” This month, the streets demanded something even spicier:

Who is the biggest nuisance, loudmouth, and chaos distributor in this world of ours, the kind of fella who could start World War Three just by ordering spaghetti with ketchup?

To answer, I sent letters to a select few: the chosen elite, the cream of the crop, the clowns in the parade. And boy, did they reply. Some gave me gold. Others gave me excuses. And a couple gave me nothing, which, naturally, will be roasted harder than garlic bread left in the oven overnight.

So without further ado, let us tally the results:

Oldman from New York

The Oldman, respected in every corner of New York, wrote the politest refusal in the history of refusals. His reply? “I am honored by the opportunity, but I am horrible at banter. I leave that to the artists, such as yourself.”

He has seen wars, dodged bullets, and possibly buried more bodies than we’ll ever know, but the idea of lighthearted banter sent him running for cover. 

Oldman is like that relative at dinner who, when asked who makes the worst meatballs, says, “Oh, they are all delicious.” Respectful? Sure. Useful? Not at all. We love you, oldie, but next time bring more to the table than polite applause. Otherwise, we will assume you are secretly campaigning for “Biggest Nuisance” by dodging the entire contest.

 

TheDude from Philadelphia

Now here’s a man who took the assignment seriously. TheDude didn’t just write a reply, he delivered a bowling alley Shakespeare performance accusing TonyTheTailor of being the seamstress of scandal.

According to TheDude, Tony swears on his grandmother’s pincushion that he never rats. Says it so often it might as well be embroidered on his lapel. But TheDude points out the scoreboard: Tony’s crew is perched on top like bowling pins waiting for a strike. Add to that the rumor of Tony scooping product from rat corpses and suddenly the narrative unravels faster than a cheap suit.
 

TheDude basically said Tony’s like a guy who swears he’s on a diet but is caught licking frosting off the cake knife. “I never rat!” he cries, while his hands smell suspiciously of rodent.
 

His closing advice to Tony? Every suit gets worn eventually, and when it does, let’s see if the tailor can handle the draft. Bravo, Dude. You’ve turned tabloid gossip into a public theater piece. Philadelphia can be proud for once.

 

TheNewGuy from DT

This guy wins the award for least effort but most audacity. His answer? He refuses to rank anyone on the nuisance scale because he simply assumes everyone is a nuisance until proven otherwise.

That’s not an answer, that’s a blanket insult wrapped in philosophy. It’s like saying: “Who’s the worst cook in the family? Easy, everyone. Until I taste proof otherwise, you all belong in the garbage.”

Thank you, NewGuy. Your contribution was basically to declare all of us insufferable. But hey, at least you saved me the ink of naming names. Just remember: if everyone’s a nuisance, then by your own rules, so are you. 

 

Nike from New York

Nike came prepared for war. He nominated @TinyTim, and let me tell you, he painted the man with colors no detergent could wash out.

According to Nike, TinyTim is permanently unlikable, a Welshman who has never left Wales, smells like sheep, and wakes up at 4 a.m. daily to consume energy drinks and paracetamol. 

Then came the comedy: TinyTim once promised to pro Nike, accepted his locals, got ready for action...only for Nike to realize the man did not even have a gun. Nike died moments later while Tim laughed like a hyena in sheep’s clothing.

TinyTim is the kind of guy who shows up to a duel with a butterknife. The kind of man who orders shots at the bar but brings a water pistol. Nike’s parting word to him? “Retire.” And frankly, the entire readership seconds that motion.

 

MaddyPerez from LA

Maddy kept it short and spicy. Her nomination: @Spicoli, because apparently the man’s very name is dumb. Add to that his attempts to overtake the collective like a rookie in a stolen car, and you’ve got comedy gold.

Spicoli sounds less like a mobster and more like a knockoff brand of Italian pasta sauce. Imagine walking into a sit-down with a name like that. “Hi, I’m Spicoli.” Sorry, sir, this isn’t the mafia, this is aisle six at the supermarket.

Maddy declared him a noob. And really, that’s all that needed to be said. Concise. Brutal. Done.

 

SimonTheSwanHunter from DT

Ah, Detroit. Simon reminded us he only reads The Hunter’s Digest, the longest running rag in Mafia history. Yet out of pity for “Nerd York,” he gave us his wisdom.

His pick? @TomJoad, a man who allegedly claims to have three degrees yet once tried to trade Simon for the most useless Left Hand Man in living memory, WaffleStompingChamp . That’s like trading a Cadillac for a broken lawnmower.

Simon roasted Tom further: the man cannot walk into the streets without stepping in filth. He misses Spike so badly he might as well start a candlelight vigil. And his degrees? Likely printed off the back of cereal boxes.

TomJoad is basically that guy at the bar bragging about his Ivy League education while spilling beer on himself and accidentally sitting in gum. Simon ended his commentary with: “Hey Tom, why don’t you take a five minute break from missing Spike and walking in filth and do something useful for a change.” Put his name on it, Simon doesn’t care. Detroit doesn’t mince words nor anything else.

 

Meltdown from Chicago

Meltdown didn’t nominate anyone because she nominated herself. She declared she is the “queen of assholes,” and frankly, her rap sheet backs it up. She once forgot the tools for a heist, right after having six teeth pulled, because apparently chaos waits for no dentist.

She admits she talks to herself, gambles like a zoo monkey throwing things, and organizes crimes so badly it’s a miracle she hasn’t accidentally robbed her own house. Her closing statement? She doesn’t need anonymity because transparency is her brand.

Meltdown is the first mobster in history to openly campaign for the title of nuisance. She is the politician of assholery, running unopposed, smiling while the city burns. And you know what? We respect the hustle.

 

The Ghosts of the Tabloid (Non-Repliers)

• Lydia – Too busy dicing to reply. Translation: she is currently sponsoring the crew's Christmas fund one roll at a time.

• @Dreiza – Promised to reply after a shower, never came back. We assume she drowned. Rest in bubbles.

• Minaxi – Had an emergency. Sweetheart. She’s forgiven. Someone buy her roses.

• Matt and TonyTheTailor – Called this tabloid “a shenanigan” and refused to reply. Translation: these two lovebirds were too busy sewing each other’s pants to contribute. Gentlemen, we salute your romance, but the only thing bigger than your love is your avoidance.

Thank you to all who replied, half-replied, or refused to reply. Remember: silence is not safety. In this tabloid, if you don’t send me your story, I will write one for you.

Until next month, keep your mouths shut, your suits pressed, and your stomach full of meatball sundaes.

With gossip in my heart and marinara on my shirt,
FatTony
 

NY tabloid sponsored by the BigStich in NY

I can't decide what is worse, my words being swapped for clumsy similes attributed to me, or TheNewGuy fumbling his own Right Hand Man's name. Twice. I hope the overall message remains clear though; TomJoad sucks.

And so does, RegMan. TheNewGuy did get that part right at least. 

Just to be clear I have zero recollection of the above TinyTim but whoever wrote that seems to know you pretty well

Even though I was not asked for my opinion, falling short of the "cream of the crop" standard, I feel I should give it anyways. There is no one in the six cities more despicable than SimonTheSwanHunter.  The man gives himself a nickname, which is unforgivable on its own, and then has the audacity to saunter out here like a swan and smear my good name. He gets away with it in Detroit because his heavy-handed tactics have his underlings quivering in fear and calling him "Big Si", but I am no Detroit peasant. I am Chicago royalty and I have made my living extracting money from the Detroit coffers.

Let me tell you all about one of my most recent visits to Detroit. You see, every two or three days I have to visit Mug City to make my collections. I had just taken $15,000 from SlimRagnarok and was on my way to the Swanfree Swansong HQ to pick up my $15,000 tribute from Simon. The place seemed quiet and I didn't see anyone about, so I let myself in and walked down the hallway. I heard strange noises coming from the room at the end of the hall, so I moved right up to the door to see if I could hear what was going on. I could hear sounds of purring like cats, but the voices were unmistakably those of Simon and Twigs. I peeked through the crack in the door and sure enough, they were in there purring like cats and licking each other. It was disgusting, but I'm not one to judge. But seriously, it was disgusting.

My disgust is not about Simon's lifestyle and extracurricular activities with Twigs, however. My disgust is due to my sympathy for those who have to endure this sickness. I'm quite sure it sent Payday G-Dog right over the edge, leading to his irrational behavior and subsequent death at the hands of Shane "Bait and Switch" Stetson. It made Monarch abandon all hope, and his HQ, and seek comfort in the company of vampires. WaffleStompingChamp is just hanging around long enough until he can shoot Simon and take his rightful place at the top. The whole city is just a shit show and Simon is to blame. What does he do about it? Implement significant change? No. He plays weird cat games and tries to force everyone to call him "Big Si". That's not a leader. That's a dickhead.

"I'm sorry Minaxi, I assumed that 3 seconds was more than enough time for you to get in a car quickly after committing a crime. I will be sure to give you more time in future whilst we get surrounded.

Ironically, I wouldn't get the opportunity to felony so much if you were more prompt running your own organised crimes.

Doesn't 'Biggest D' just stand for Biggest Don? anyway?"

Spicoli overhears matt talking about Biggest Don and realizes his perception of this whole award was completely wrong

Biggest Don? What in the hell.. I was under the assumption that this entire time I got voted for the Biggest Dazzler.

I can not believe it, I am so embarrassed now...

Spicoli hangs his head and walks away completely and utterly shamed