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Archives: May 2008

I’m still drunk from Memorial Day

Note: I’m a columnist for the Reader Weekly, an alt-weekly newspaper in Duluth, MN. Every Monday I post a new column.

Note #2: This is my 1,000th column for this website.

 
You may think today is Thursday – or, if the editor put the paper out a day late, you may think it’s Friday – but it’s not. Today is Memorial Day, and I’m taking the day off. Again.

Its a little-known fact that if you get drunk on Memorial Day, the holiday continues until you sober up. If you can remain legally intoxicated until Thursday, then Memorial Day extends through Thursday. If you can stay drunk for six weeks, then you’re on paid vacation for six weeks. Our fine Constitution keeps your employer from docking your pay.

In fact, this law stays true for all holidays, not just ones honoring our servicemen. The longer you stay plastered, the longer you’re able to enjoy whatever seasonal celebration you used alcohol to ignore in the first place. It’s been Valentine’s Day in my apartment for the past three months!

This law even applies for holidays held by other religions. You’re not Jewish, but you hate Hitler, don’t you? Of course you do. So celebrate Hanukkah as if it were St. Patrick’s Day. You’re not African-American, but you’re voting for Barack Obama, right? Then head to your nearest Kwanza-friendly neighborhood bar.

The Young and the Popeless

Note: I’m a columnist for the Reader Weekly, an alt-weekly newspaper in Duluth, MN. Every Monday I post a new column.

 
Joseph Ratzinger is in his garage, tinkering with a car. A nubile, shirtless 16-year-old boy enters with a cup of coffee and breakfast.

Boy: Good morning, Pope! My, you’re up early today!

Pope: Yeah, there’s a popping sound from the left exhaust of the Popemobile. I replaced the spark plugs, but it’s still doing it.

Boy: Maybe the compression is low on one of the cylinders.

An awkward silence.

Pope: Who’s the fucking Pope here? Me or you?

Boy: Sorry your holiness. Here’s your coffee.

Pope: So what’s going on in the world today? Anything I should know about?

Please stop sliding wieners down your throat

Note: I’m a columnist for the Reader Weekly, an alt-weekly newspaper in Duluth, MN. Every Monday I post a new column.

 
If you can eat 41 hot dogs in 10 minutes, you should be put to sleep. I just want to go on record as saying that. I don’t care if it’s part of a competition. It’s unnatural and wrong. Anyone who can stuff that many links of pig anus and horse foreskin down their throat in such a short period should be feared, not celebrated.

The International Federation of Competitive Eating – yes, there’s people who probably get paid a larger salary than you just to organize eating contests – recently held a hot dog eating contest in Minnesota. The winner qualified for a national competition. This goes against my suggestion of having all the losing contestants euthanized, and the winner carried to the town square and burned like a witch.

Why do we encourage this creepy feat? I find it very hypocritical that Americans celebrate people who can easily slide hot dogs down their throat, yet condemn porn starlets who possess the very same skills. Frankly, anyone who can swallow a foot-long hot dog without chewing should be shot with silver bullets like a werewolf.

I am appalled by Grand Theft Auto IV! Appalled, I tell you!

Note: I’m a columnist for the Reader Weekly, an alt-weekly newspaper in Duluth, MN. Every Monday I post a new column.

 
The other day I was talking to my best friend Agnes – such a lovely woman; 70 years old but full of life! – and as we were gardening and listening to Paul Harvey read us stories on the radio, Agnes mentioned a new video game that her grandson wanted very badly. Well, I’m not normally much for games – knitting and endlessly watering my lawn for no reason takes up most of my time – but I was intrigued to see what games today’s youth enjoy.

So I had my niece – who knows how to turn on computers – look up “Grand Theft Auto IV”. I was amazed. Whatever this game was, it had wonderful ratings. All the reviewers gave it ten out of ten stars! Even Clark Gable didn’t get such rave reviews from critics, and he had a cock like a horse! So I bought the game, figuring it would be like Bubble Bobble or Bible Champions Volume II.

Boy, was I wrong! The things I saw when I played this game! Deep sin! Not minor sin like real priests molesting real altar boys, but the deep kind like hitting a fictional character with a fictional car! Well, I phoned Agnes right up and told her the horror.