I shall be America's Chaplain of Nightclubs

Wendy Sanderson, the first-ever Chaplain of Nightclubs, will begin later this year. The job basically involves hanging out around clubs and offering "spiritual advice" to club-goers with a group of volunteers. Sanderson was manager of a shoe shop before being appointed Chaplain of Nightclubs, meaning Al Bundy from "Married . . . With Children" could have been chosen for this job.

This Chaplain of Nightclubs position intrigues me, because if America follows the example set in Wales, it would be the first government position for which I actually seem to be overly qualified. While I am not exactly what you would call a "spiritual" person, it's not like they're going to give me a Jesus test or something. And even if they did give Jesus tests, the testing would most certainly be random Jesus testing, which means I'd only have a small chance of being tested.

Now we take you back to today's column, already in progress.

Spirituality and clubbing haven't exactly gone hand in hand throughout history, but Sanderson says nightclubs and churches have a lot more in common than people think, like a craving for an ultimate high, whether it be by finding a place for God in your life and someday reaching heaven, or by actually speaking to God during a really bad acid trip.

As expected, I think this idea is total crap. If you want someone to help club-goers, you can't turn to the church. You have to turn to the gutters and dumpsters, home of the best drinkers in any area. I'd like to think of La Crosse as one gigantic dumpster, and myself as a man who smells funny and can give helpful advice about drinking. Therefore, I'd like to recommend myself for the Champlain of Nightclubs position in America, if such a thing is ever created.

The first step in helping drunkards and ecstasy fiends in this country is an easy one: picking the right staff members. I'll hold a gigantic drinking contest among my friends - at the cost of the taxpayers, naturally - to see which of my friends are worthy of being on the committee. We're going for a scared straight approach, so friends of mine who tie rope around whiskey bottles and hang them out the window, hiding them from the prying eyes of friends and family, will get first dibs.

The second step is gathering materials. To go along with the scared straight method I mentioned in the last paragraph, we'll print t-shirts for men that say, "Alcohol and drugs make you not able to get it up" and t-shirts for women that say, "Alcohol and drug usage: one more issue for that skank who's eyeing your boyfriend to find and expose about you."

The third and final step is my favorite: getting paid to hang out at bars and talk to unruly hooligans. I will set strict rules for myself and the other committee members, to ensure we do a good job. For instance, I will strictly enforce a six-beer-a-night maximum for committee members. For a person of shorter height and smaller body structure, six beers is about the starting point for blackouts. Requiring committee members to stop after six beers will ensure none of us forgets to do our job. As I've been known to say*, there's nothing wrong with being drunk on the job, just as long as you remember you were drunk on the job.

*I've never been known to say that.

With this perfect three-step plan (much shorter than the 12-step plans found at AA meetings), America can move closer to attaining it's goal of eliminating everything fun, and then analyzing the hell out of the fun things as a final nail in the coffin.

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