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Archives: Jan 2009

If your apartment is near a bar, I will stalk you

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

 
My friend Mike, who doesn’t drink much, recently moved into an apartment next to a really awesome bar. I’m not sure if he knows why all his friends suddenly want to come over every night, but we’re hovering around his new home like fruit flies. When he moved in, he had no fewer than six of us trying to shove his oversized refrigerator up two flights of stairs for him. I’d love to say it was for friendship, but it was really an excuse to go drinking afterward.

While we value him as a friend – and he is an excellent friend – what we value more is a place to crash when alcohol makes us vomit. If he had asked us to move a 200-pound fridge to the suburbs, we would have told him to go screw himself. But move it next to a bar that has a dozen authentic German beers on tap? The only gathering this year that had more attendees was Obama’s inauguration.

It doesn’t help that Mike’s apartment is awesome. It has a gigantic balcony, from which all of us can get loaded and throw empty cans and other smelly garbage at people on the street. Add to that a couch that folds out into a bed and the presence of an Xbox 360, and you have planted sweet, sweet nectar that will attract drunks from hundreds of miles away.

The News-Tribune looks like crap. Crap, 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.

 
My God, what have you people done? I just saw the Duluth News-Tribune for the first time in a year, and the front page looks like a preschool art project. I know times are tough, but did the publisher really have to let his six-year-old son design the layout of the front page?

What’s with all the colored boxes, Andy Warhol? Did you just realize QuarkXPress has a color palette? That feature has always been available. The reason your predecessors didn’t use it is because they weren’t retarded. If you want an array of colors to attract readers, try using some photos that don’t involve someone sitting in a chair or standing behind a podium. You live in Duluth. Send your photographers outside, you jackasses.

To be honest, News-Tribune page editors, you’re pooping out ugly ducklings at an alarming rate, and rather than critiquing your mess, my instinct is to drink myself to sleep and ignore your newspaper. But for the sake of the readers you’re treating like guinea pigs, I’ll try to help. Please remember that if I’m rude, it’s only because you completely and unquestionably deserve it.

I’m unemployed, and I’m not wearing any pants

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

 
I don’t want to alarm you, reader, but I haven’t worn pants in three days. No pants. I don’t need them. I’m unemployed, and since the modern equivalent of searching for a job only requires ten minutes each morning on Craigslist, I really don’t see a need to add pants to the equation. Unless someone’s coming over or my balls are cold, putting on pants is just one more daily chore.

Every morning I wake up, eat peanut butter toast, watch four hours of sassy Judge Joe Brown, and then play video games and drink coffee until the overstimulation causes me to pass out. The next morning I start over again. I just don’t see where I can fit pants into that schedule. Pants would slow me down.

I dare anyone to show me one point in my day where I need to equip pants. Judge Joe Brown can’t see me through the TV set. Neither can Judge Judy, Judge Hatchett, Judge Karen, Judge Alex, Judge Maria Lopez, the lady from Cristina’s Court, the judge from People’s Court, the judge from Divorce Court, the judge from Jury Duty, or Judge Jeanine Pirro. The only judge who will ever see me is God himself, and unless he’s got a well-paying job to offer me, he needs to stop being a peeping tom and mind his own damn business. For once.

I love not wearing pants. In fact, I may never wear pants again. In the 1980s, business casual shifted from suits without ties to collared shirts with jeans. Twenty years later, why not progress to collared shirts without jeans? As long as my boxer shorts have a button to keep my wiener from falling out, I don’t see the problem.

An open letter to the guy who lost

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

 
Dear Norm Coleman,

Hi! How are you? Are you having a good day? That’s nice. Stop being a jackass! You lost! Go away!

I’m sorry, that probably came off as rude. It has occurred to me that you may not realize you lost the Minnesota Senate election. Well you did. Life is tough. Sometimes you run against a dead guy and win (that reference could really be applied to either Walter Mondale or Paul Wellstone), and sometimes you lose to a Jewish comedian who used to write jokes about boners. Either way, the senate chair your butt normally occupies needs some fresh air.

You lost, fair and square. I know it, Minnesota knows it, and now you know it because we just told you. I suggest you begin filling your car with things from your office. Feel free to grab some stationary and pens from the supply closet. We won’t tattle.

Don’t take it personally, Norm. It’s not that we don’t like you. We have nothing against your capped teeth, your tailored suits, or that creepy half-smile that’s become your trademark. We’re just sick of you. Remember how everyone used to love Jim Carrey and we all went to see his movies, but then we realized he was kind of a douche and we all got sick of him? Well Norm, you’re the new Jim Carrey.