June 27, 2008

Meet the New Pacers (Vol. I)


Greetings and salutations, Indianapolis. Or as they say in the Balkans, Bunã dzua. I am humbled and beholden to learn that I will soon join your fair bastion of Midwestern virtue.

I suppose you're here to ascertain a dollop about me, no? My blushes. Very well then.

[sips from snifter of Chivas Regal Royal Salute]

I am a high-seas sailor first, a scholar second, and a gentleman always ... I spend much of my summers engaged in archaeological digs in northern Ecuador ... I idolize Ayn Rand, Copernicus and Trey Anastasio ... I'm on the International Board for the Advancement of Solar Power ... my mother was a professional bullfighting protester from the south of Portugal, my father a molecular biologist at CERN ... I support a universal flat tax, but only conditionally ... I am skilled in the low post, but also in the diagnosis and treatment of left ventricular hypertrophy ... my secret, irresistible vice is Bavarian veal cutlets in a creamy cherry sauce (preferably with a stout, hickory-scented port) ... I disdain tomfoolery and dullards ... and finally, I compare my basketball prowess to an arthritic Robert Parrish.

I do not wish to speak of myself any further, lest I present myself as vainglorious and off-putting. We shall to grow to become familiar with each other in the weeks to come, of that I am sure.

Now, if you will excuse me, I must adjourn. As the Burmese theologians might say, Twáme naw. And may Peace be with you.

— Augustus Irwin ("Roy") Hibbert, IV

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June 20, 2008

See the Problem ... Fix the Problem


A simple, common sense approach to problems, it seems, has gone the way of Goody's Headache Powder. And public hangings. There's too much over-thinking these days. Too much sensitivity. The goal isn't to necessarily fix the problem, per se. It's to fix the problem in a way that doesn't step on any toes. That doesn't offend anyone. And it's usually based in faggy physics and science and other complicated, world-of-academia shit.

That's why we're giving a big standing ovation to the hometown of Purdue University. They're fixing problems the old fashioned way: like a 6-year-old latchkey kid would.
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Kudos, West Lafayette City Council. Kudos. Really. Because most towns would have beat around the proverbial bush on such a matter. They'd waste entire public hearings jabbering on about fancy-pants solutions that may take years to implement. Not you.

Q: Our town continously smells like afterbirth and molded Funyuns. Been like that for decades. We're fed up. What should we do?

A: Fuck it. Let's buy a big-ass fan. Blow that stank westward. Next. .

You acknowledged the problem. You thought about it for a couple billionths of a second. And you acted. Decisively.
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Take note, America.

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June 18, 2008

Meet the New Sheriff of Crazyville


Mayor: Do you solemnly swear to protect the whaleshit insane values, principles, and tenets of our beloved city, so help you God?

Garnett: [uprooting a nearby birch tree, a live possum sits atop his shoulder ... they're both eating cotton candy] FFFFFFUUUUUCCCCCKKK YEAHHHHHHHHHHH!!! Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah! Certified, motherfuckers! Like Quincy motherfucking M.E.!!!! Oink oink oink oink oink oink oink oink oink oink oink oink!!!!!

Mayor: I hereby pronounce you Sheriff. Be well, friend.

Garnett: [says nothing ... gleefully leaps into a waiting hot air balloon ... once airborne, gives the double thumbs-up move while seductively licking the white-hot burner]

Mayor: God bless that man.
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June 10, 2008

Welcome Back Big Smooth




You hired Perkins? Right on.

How could this possibly go bad?