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Archives: Oct 2009

I would like to be a fitness instructor at UMD

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

 
In light of recent sexual harassment allegations made toward a University of Minnesota-Duluth fitness instructor, it might seem in poor taste for me to inquire about possible fitness-related job openings at that university. Some might say I’m fulfilling my own selfish needs without caring to see justice take its proper course. Others may say I’m being a total dick.

Well balderdash, I say! It’s a tough economy, and if UMD has to replace their allegedly flirty fitness instructor with a non allegedly flirty one, I’m not going to wait around for some other ambitious job seeker to pull the rug out from under me. If UMD needs to hire a new alleged sexual predator to teach fitness, I want them to know I’m the alleged sexual predator for the job.

I should note that I don’t have any actual sexual predator experience. My resume is embarrassingly sparse, with no record of sexual harassment, sexual assault, or even entry-level experience with stalking or restraining order violations. But I’m a man of ambition, and I will do whatever it takes to fill those obvious needs for the university.

I have some questions about your Halloween party

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

 
I received the invitation to your Halloween party the other day. I greatly enjoyed how it looked like something a four-year-old would make, and how you used adjectives like “spooky”, “ghastly”, and “terrifying” to describe everything from the food and drinks to the condition of your home. I would have added “white trash” to the list of descriptions, but it’s your party, not mine.

I’m invited to a lot of lame holiday gatherings in the suburbs. Everyone knows the best parties are places people don’t care about destroying, like cabins and college houses, but no one invites me to those. Frankly, I’d rather drink at home by myself with my pants off. But if you insist on inviting me, I just have a few questions about your Halloween party:

Is your guest bathroom on the main floor? Am I going to have to walk up the stairs every time I pee? I know you don’t want people dropping stink bombs in your classy bathroom or using your good towels to mop up vomit, but walking up the stairs every time I have to bust a pee is tiring.

Tips for hunting grouse

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

 
Minnesota’s grouse season is nearly a month old, and the estimated numbers are down from last year. To fix this problem, Duluth’s most prestigious game wardens have personally asked me – and not rival columnist Sam Cook, whose mustache they deemed unprofessional – to write a column helping hunters thin out the population of these dangerous and bloodthirsty birds. Here are a few helpful tips:

- You’re allowed to hunt grouse with the following weapons: Shotguns, sniper rifles, Scud missiles, land mines, tear gas, catapults, chloroform, trained bears, a jaunty song, alcohol poisoning, and punching them to death.

- Looking to make your outing more efficient? Hunting grouse with a flamethrower will both kill and cook them at the same time.

- If you plan to hunt grouse with a gun, you should load it with bullets first. This is the only real tip I know, because I’ve never been hunting once in my entire life. I heard deer will poop all over you if you cut them open wrong. Is that true?

Please don’t fire me from my late night talk show

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

 
I’m glad you folks are reading tonight, and I’m glad you’re in such a pleasant mood, because I have a little story I’d like to tell you. Do you feel like a story?

This started three weeks ago yesterday. I got up early, to write my humor column early, and I went out to get into my car, and in the backseat of my car is a package I don’t recognize. I get to looking through it, and there’s a letter in the package, and it says, “I know you do some terrible, terrible things, and I can prove you do these terrible things.”

Now, this is a very vague description. I’ve been writing for this newspaper for nearly seven years, and pretty much every column I’ve ever written qualifies as a “terrible thing.” In fact, nearly everything I’ve done over the past seven years, in print or otherwise, has been just awful, so I have no idea what particular incident this man is referring to, but he’s going to put it into a movie unless I give him some money.