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Lunatic Ravings - 11/05/01
By Stephen Johnson
Published each Monday and Thursday
The Alan Parsons Project---"I Robot"
Jerome is feeling left out.
In the latest "Ask Bob", there is an email from Jerome wondering why we haven't been using him. We did
plan to have Jerome write a column for us, but put those plans aside when we received his first two submissions.
The first was titled "Why Miikal Jordan Rools" and the second was "The Taliban Knows how too Treet
a Ladee". Due to recent events, we felt that these were not the right subjects to be talked about.
The "Miikal Jordan" column was very offensive even to me. I welcome tastelessness, but there are certain
boundaries that even I wouldn't cross. Calling "Miikal Jordan" a "god" and "good for the
game" was totally uncalled for. Jerome needs to learn how to think before he writes. Maybe in better times
we will post those columns, but for now we will continue to let him get us tacos and sharpen our pencils because
that's obviously all he's good for.
Talking about tastelessness, I went to a yee haw bar last week. I guess the cowboy stereotype is true, and I guess
they really do fuck sheep when they're lonely. And they really do stand around with their thumbs hooked in the
front pockets of their jeans as they lean against a wall with a piece of dried hay hanging out the corner of their
mouth as they call the women who walk past them "darlin'" and 'little filly" and "tighter than
a sheep's vagina".
Yep, and they really do dance the two step and the boot scootin' boogie, and they have to concentrate on their
feet as they dance for some odd reason which I can't figure out, but maybe it's because if they look up and see
how someone else looks while they dance then they will figure that they look like a complete moron and that wouldn't
be good in Marlboro land.
When the national anthem is played during this night, everyone stops what they're doing and those sitting rise
and everyone turns to the television showing the American flag. What we now have is a bunch of wavering drunks
clutching their bottle of Budweiser trying to figure which of the two spinning flags they see to concentrate on,
thoughts of patriotism weaving through their alcohol addled mind yet they do have the good taste to raise their
beer in toast to the American flag. When the songs over, they collapse to the floor and pass out, but are awakened
when the DJ throws on some Garth.
Actually, after re-living that night, maybe what Jerome wrote wasn't so bad after all. Or maybe I'm just a bitter,
vindictive old man who needs to get his ass whupped good.
COMING NEXT: I answer
email!!
snide_remarks@weirdcrap.every1.net
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