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Get out of my parking spot…punk

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

Paul Ryan, Columnist

In an effort to solve my parking problems (not your parking problems, for I could care less where you losers park), yesterday I clearly and precisely, in big letters, printed “PAUL’S PARKING SPOT” in chalk on one of the spaces in the RSC lot.

After arriving today, let me say that whoever owns a green mid-90s Chevy Cavalier with Wisconsin plates is in deep trouble for stealing my spot.

Speaking of stealing and thievery, this is a segue about stealing and thievery.

It’s a terrible, horrible nightmare for a writer when his ideas are stolen and used without permission. Of course, as in all events, the pain and torture of such things are always made better by money, sex, Jose Cuervo, malt liquor or sex. If I accidentally mentioned one of those twice, I apologize. I’m male.

Faithful readers, the nightmare has hit “Ramblings,” as the copyrighted name of my column has now been stolen. Twice.

I have received no “booty calls,” as the young folk like to say, for this usage. I have received no money. Jose Cuervo has not shown up at my door with his tequila and the 70 lb. attractive blonde women who often drink it.

To tell you the truth, I probably would have readily given up the rights to my pathetic column name in exchange for a 40 of “Old English” and a package of “Nutter Butter” cookies. Well, that offer is now off the table.

The first vicious plagiarizer is found on the campus of UW-Stout. Carrie Bulin, a downright crooked journalism thief and judging by her column picture, a horrendously unattractive woman as well, has titled her column “Random Ramblings.”

In what I’m sure is not a surprise to most, her column sucks. In fact, it sucks even worse than mine, which is quite a feat. I tried everything, even drinking heavily while reading it. But unlike my dating life, it just wasn’t funny.

The second offender hails from right here at UWS. In something titled, “The Toilet Paper” and found in your nearest friendly residence hall restroom (where the seats are always warm, and everybody knows your name), Jen Anderson wrote a piece titled “Ramblings.”

Not only that, but the opening paragraphs seem incredibly similar to the first column I published here in late 1998 (and yes, I do plan on graduating someday… punk).

Ms. Anderson’s article did not have a picture accompanying it, so therefore I could not make any observations about her attractiveness. I’m rather upset.

Did you honestly think that you could get away with it, Ms. Anderson? Or should I call you Jen? Is Jen even your real name, or is it someone else’s name that you happened to take a wild fancy to and took for yourself without permission? To coin a phrase Ms. Anderson, the friendly residence hall restroom poop has hit the friendly residence hall restroom fan.

You readers may be asking yourselves, “What did you do, Paul?” Or perhaps you were reading and not paying attention, and instead asked yourself, “Why do all my school lunches taste so terrible?” or “Why don’t the members of the UWS athletic department get us a football team?” The answer to both questions, of course, is “because they’re crappy.”

So what will I do? Well, I could do the American thing and sue them…or I could do the Paul Ryan thing and pretend to sue them, all for humor value. Just wait until you see the next issue.


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