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Touch Paul Ryan and get a damn quarter

Note: This column was written during my senior year at the University of Wisconsin-Superior, and published in the Promethean.

Paul Ryan, Columnist

Today’s a very special day. I’m not wasting your time blabbing about my Scott Baio fan club like I usually do. No, today (‘today’ being about two weeks long, since that’s how often this paper comes out) I’m holding a fundraiser to support the most needy cause I can think of: you.

I’m sick of you, all prissy-like with your comb and your brush and your daily showers. This is Superior. We don’t do that here. You need to go away.

So I’m giving you all the chance to earn money with the ‘Touch Paul Ryan and get a damn quarter’ contest. Unfortunately, this contest is not open to Canadians because your beach volleyball team beat our beach volleyball team in the Olympics, and that just pisses me right off.

Basically, just touch me and I’ll give you a quarter. A damn quarter, in fact. You may only touch me once an hour, though, unless you are a cute girl, in which case you may touch me as many times as you want. Even if you are Canadian.

To ensure safety, I must remind you faithful readers that a closed fist cracking against my jaw in no way qualifies as a touch. Neither does poking me in the eye, spitting on me or ramming your foot repeatedly into my crotch. Such actions will cause me to push the emergency button on the nearest rape pole on campus (I believe ’emergency pole’ is the PC term), which alerts Campus Safety to jump in their cruiser to drive over, even if the blue-lighted pole is right outside their office and their car is three blocks down the street.

The contest
is open to all students, including ones from other schools who might also be interested in earning a damn quarter of their very own. The contest is void after October 27, unless you are a cute girl, in which you may continue to touch for free.

Why any even remotely cute girl would want to do such a thing is beyond me.

A damn quarter

Speaking of that, many of you may find yourself saying, ‘Paul, I don’t really want to touch you.’ Well, to those people, I can only ask how badly you want your damn quarter. Because you’re not getting it from staring at me. I get enough of that for free when Chancellor Erlenbach and I go around Crownhart, picking up women and giving each other piggy back rides through the girls bathroom.

And don’t go around lying to your friends, telling them that you touched me when you didn’t. I’ll have you know that I keep a meticulous list of the three people that have actually touched me, and they’re all either too old, blind or stupid to ever remember it. So there.

Finally, remember that touching Aaron Brown doesn’t count. As thoroughly as you may enjoy touching him, he doesn’t have any damn quarters anyway. Let the Canadians have him for their ticker tape Olympic beach volleyball parade.

Note: The ‘damn quarter’ described is the prize furnished by the producer. Paul Ryan and Ben Stein reclaim any damn quarters that aren’t won by the contestant(s). Quarters used are extracted carefully from the overflowing population of homeless drunks and streetwalkers which were formerly found at The Cove nightclub, but who are now found exclusively at Stargate nightclub. Any dirt, vomit or mucus found on the damn quarters are the sole responsibility of the winner and are not in any way associated with Paul Ryan, The Promethean or any of its subsidiaries. Fornicating with Paul Ryan is not an event that pays damn quarters, but is an activity that is rewarding within itself.

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