As I’ll show you shortly, column photos don’t have to be this way. Ugly people like you and I can take adequate column photos. All a person needs is a little patience and a lot of Photoshop skills. Did you realize I’m one-eighth Norwegian? Not by my column photo, you didn’t. Thanks Photoshop.

Here’s some great examples of fantastic column photos this rag’s editor wouldn’t allow me to use:

A ravenous feast for the eyes, isn’t it? Talk about a column photo that grabs your attention! This picture is both visually stunning and a perfect way to hide my hideous face. If only Erma Bombeck had been able to do the same, we wouldn’t have had such a drought in child bearing after the parents of baby boomers stopped getting erections.

This column photo of me, circa 1972, was the beautiful result of overstimulation. Normally you loosen a photo subject up with a few glasses of wine and some soft, sexy music. With this photo, I loosened myself up using a few bottles of wine and a Rage Against the Machine album . . . the album they released in 1972. The result is a shocked caught-in-the-act look that only comes when a man gets caught stealing a newsboy cap from a stranger’s home. All charges were dropped because I looked damn good in that cap.

This final photo is the sexual image our modern society has been waiting for to inspire the next sexual revolution. The pure animal lust this photo creates cannot be ignored by any woman, whether a young teenage girl or an elderly shopwoman wearing a pink sweatshirt with bears on it. Even men can’t resist its sexual pull. While mother nature doesn’t allow a straight man to turn gay, this picture does inspire rampant bouts of bi-sexuality. Especially on the Iron Range, for some reason.

Obviously, your photos won’t be as good as mine, but that’s okay. I’ve been writing sexy columns and taking sexy column photos for ten years. Most people don’t hit a home run on their first try. Granted, I did, but you’re not me. Take your time, and find the sexy yet not completely pornographic column photo that fits your writing style. A standard headshot with the background cut out isn’t a column photo, my friends. It’s a slight against mother nature and God himself.

There were two winners of the latest prize, and they’ll split the $370 million jackpot. That’s some fine “f-you” money to toss around. I reckon you could easily hire a dishonest man to beat the living crap out of everyone you dislike if you had that kind of money. Sadly, Ed Neighbors, the 52-year-old truck driver who won the prize (and sadly isn’t related to Jim Neighbors), said he’s just “going to do a lot of fishing.”

That’s not very fun, Ed. Don’t you have an ex-wife you want killed or something? The cable TV networks are running out of real life scandals to dramatize, and you’re not helping. Nobody’s going to watch a show about a truck driver who really, really hates fish.

The other winner, whose name is still unknown, apparently really loves not having money, because they haven’t come forward yet. Is it a coincidence that the unknown winner’s ticket was sold at a liquor store in New Jersey? I’m sure they’ll come forward next Tuesday when the whiskey wears off and the dumpster they’re sleeping in gets emptied for trash day.

But judge not lest ye be judged, because by then he or she will be able to afford their own dumpster to sleep in! Sadly, this dumpster will still be located in New Jersey.

I’ve never been a lottery hopeful. I’m not a fan of trying for things that have a one in 276 million chance of working (Which is also why I’ve never asked actress Christina Ricci on a date). However, I used to be a fan of scratch-off lottery tickets. Not buying them, per se, but “borrowing” them from convenience stores.

What. Quit looking at me like that.

Back in college I worked at a small convenience store, and most of the time I was the only person there. It was a very dull job, and one day I decided to pass the time by scratching off lottery tickets. My first ticket didn’t win and neither did my second, but the third one was worth five dollars. A proverbial light bulb turned on over my head. I should keep scratching them off until I win big.

This was a bad idea for many reasons: 1) It’s illegal to sell lottery tickets to yourself. 2) It’s illegal to scratch off lottery tickets you haven’t technically paid for yet. 3) It’s illegal in 47,000 other ways that have yet to be brought to my attention. 4) “I’ll keep trying until I win” is the same method used by elderly people who can’t use the bathroom without a handrail.

I never got caught by my bosses at the convenience store, but fate did correct my poor judgement by giving me $56 in debt that I had to pay off by the time my shift ended. Good thing the store had an ATM.

I learned many lessons that day. First and foremost, I learned that I’m stupid when left without proper adult supervision. Secondly, I learned that the lottery is for suckers. If a game’s “big winner” is some Jersey wino who lost his ticket when he fell asleep in a dumpster, then I’d hate to be one of the losers. I have enough problems without having to sleep in the same place where I throw up.