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A bicycle won’t get you laid, fool

It was around the 90 minute mark of our first date when I knew it was coming. That awkward discussion I didn’t want to have, and had been deflecting the conversation away from all night.

No, not politics. I had already creeped her Facebook in search of weird cult-based religions or posts arguing how swastikas are okay to use because they used to stand for good fortune. Not jobs, either. For the first time in my life, I have a job outside the entertainment industry that doesn’t pay me via cheap beer and DVD copies of Deuce Bigelow: European Gigolo. Not my police record, either. I’ve only had trouble with the police once, and it was because I drunkenly gave a campus safety officer the finger because I assumed he would find it amusing. He did not.

I could be a recovering alcoholic, and my date wouldn’t blink an eye. Lots of people deal with substance abuse issues. I could have a weird clown fetish where I couldn’t “finish the deal” unless the woman honked a bicycle horn exactly seven times. Many people can be quite uninhibited when invested in another person’s other positive qualities. Yet the one thing few women will put up with – no matter their race, creed or income – is dating a man who doesn’t own a car.

It’s still winter and everything is crappy

January, February and March are the worst months of the year. Everything is colder, darker. Our entire life seems more claustrophobic, as if every drop in temperature moves the walls of our home a few feet inward. We feel like a rat in a cage, or Superman in glasses, or Donny Ness in a mayor’s office.

Even the snow turns filthy and brittle this time of year. The once fluffy and pretty piles of it are now brown and moist, as if Clifford the Big Red Dog accidentally ate a giant bowl of eggs and chose our lawn to unload his mountain of feces. Nothing adds to the bitterness of a homeowner like a brown lawn and the looming threat of taxes in April.

Everything innocent turns sour in these bleak times. The whole world seems to grow older in a few short months. Everyone’s a little fatter, a little more grizzled and beaten down. Snowball fights that were carefree and fun in December are now angsty and bitter, like war. February “snowballs” are jagged shards of ice, and you can be certain that anyone who arms themselves with one doesn’t have fun on their mind. Their heart is filled only with icy cold vengeance. That son of a bitch wants to take out your eye.

Local residents ready to riot over Dunkin’ Donuts delay

Dunkin’ Donuts has announced that their new Duluth location, slated to open this spring at the corner of Central Entrance and Basswood Ave, has been delayed until the fall. We walked the streets to find residents willing to give their opinions. The response was overwhelming:

“Well I’m not going to wait forever! I’m just kidding, I’ll totally wait forever. Just please don’t leave! Dunkin’s chain stores with gas station donuts and drip coffee is literally all I have in my life! Tell me when to line up! I’ll do anything for you! ANYTHING! Take my virginity if you want! No one else will!”
-Bartholomew Crackers, MD

“Goddamn it. Why the hell did I pay two grand for this Rascal scooter if I’m not going to be fat enough to use it? They need to start thinking about the investments locals have made to support this franchise.”
-Charles Lordly, assistant restroom cleaner

“This delay is terrible news. Wife beatings are already up 74 percent.”
-Mark Fart, Duluth Police Chief

You guys! Michelle Obama redecorated the White House dining room!

Breaking news!! White House officials announced they have allowed First Lady Michelle Obama to redecorate the White House dining room! OMG! It’s totes exciting news for the White House’s most fab lady babe! You go, girl!

“This is a bold step,” said Josh Earnest, White House Press Secretary and women’s suffrage badass! “For years, our nation has only allowed the wives of presidents to decorate the regular dining room. But our progressive administration, which cares deeply for women’s rights, is allowing Michelle to decorate the other dining room.”


Yes, Girl Power is alive and well in our nation’s capitol! If the redesign goes well, Michelle may also be allowed by her male handlers to speak to others about the dining room! YOLO! If she’s especially good and doesn’t Biden up the place, the news networks may reward her by discussing her taste in art for ten seconds before returning to commenting on the size and shape of her arms!

How to treat your sweetie snookums on Valentine’s Day!!!

My apologies, but the headline is a farce. I don’t care about your sweetie snookums. The fact that you call them “sweetie snookums” automatically makes both of you awful. If your snookums was speared through the buttocks by an antelope, I’d laugh because that’s exactly what I expect would happen to someone named “snookums”. It’s a comic relief name. “Here lies Snookums, with two holes in his butt.”

I also assume that anyone referred to as “hubby” lost their leg in a boating accident. Not sure why.

Every year on Valentine’s Day, bitter single people write articles about how the holiday was “created by Hallmark” or “makes love into a transaction” or “if your wife really loved you, she wouldn’t wait until a holiday to bang you.” But single people don’t want to read negative or positive things about Valentine’s Day. Even committed people just want to move past this tedious holiday and enjoy their lives again. So I’m going to ignore Valentine’s Day this week and tell a completely unrelated story about how I once tried to drunkenly stumble across the Blatnik Bridge. You’re welcome.