This article was originally written for the Summer 2010 issue of BoozeWeek, now available at Olive Juice and stores all over the Eugene area and elsewhere.  Reprinted with BoozeWeek’s permission.

Boozing on a Budget

This episode: Turning tears into wine!

By James Warmels, the Urinal Gum creator

Once in a while, I find myself leaving the bar properly buzzed with the same amount of money as when I entered.  This latest instance involved a friend seeking assistance in drowning his relationship-dissolution sorrows.  Here’s how you too can get loaded without having to touch your wallet.  Now, pay attention.

“We were together for FIVE FUCKING YEARS!”  He blubbers as he hands Ty Connor a tenner for his and your sixth shots of tequila.

“You’re better without the whore!”  You encourage because it is important that you be a good chaser for his sorrow shots: “That bitch was nothing but trouble!  Sure, you had a couple good times, but it wasn’t worth it!  Besides, you’ve been off the market for ages.  Things have changed.  Look at these ladies!”  This is when you point to the belle of the bar, the most beautiful woman. (IMPORTANT: Make sure it is NOT his now ex-girlfriend!)

“Say, you’re right.”  He’ll say.  “Let me buy you a drink!”  And, so on.

This also works for people who are extremely happy.  Who hasn’t been at Tiny’s when some poor fool hit it big on the video lottery and buys everyone a round?  Basically, any strong emotions are cause for suckers to loosen up their wallets.  You see, essentially, they want you to participate in their strong emotions, and they’re willing to pay for the libations necessary to produce this synthetic empathy.

To keep the alcohol flowing unencumbered, there are a few things to remember:

-Let your emotional buddy know ahead of time that you are flat broke “until my next paycheck.”  This is important because it will keep them from asking you to buy a round.  Your lack of money will not stop them from buying you round after round: they don’t want to risk losing their drinking partner.  You will need to periodically remind him of your financial handicap, since emotional people are too wrapped up in their own thoughts to remember anything.

-Feel free to campaign for good drinks.  If he suggests buying a round of PBR, gently let him know that “I don’t drink that shit!”  And, you prefer Arrogant Bastard Ale.  Or, kindly make him aware that he has moved on to a classier phase in his life: “So, we’ll need the Dom Perignon.”

-Be a good conversationalist.  This is important in all situations.  If you are a good conversationalist, you will never have to buy a drink.  If you’re running out of things to say, simply repeat the things you’ve said that have received the best reactions.  Repetition is better than silence.

Now, you are ready.  Log on to Facebook and check out your friends’ statuses.  Find the ones with the strongest emotions and let them know you are there for them.  Include your cellular telephone number.  Enjoy as the calls come ringing in.  And, remember: Your buddy James Warmels is always there to help you through the good times and the bad.

This article was originally written for the Summer 2010 issue of BoozeWeek, now available at Olive Juice and stores all over the Eugene area and elsewhere.  Reprinted with BoozeWeek’s permission.

Hittin’ Some Bitches in Eugene

By James “Master Brains” Warmels, the Urinal Gum creator

Bullet Brains pulls the left side of her pants down to about mid-hip to reveal a compact disc-sized bruise.  “If you look closely, you can almost see the pattern of the track,” she says as she chases ibuprofen with a swig of Ninkasi.  This is the after party at the Muse.  The Emerald City Roller Girls’ all-star travel team, The Skatesaphrenics, just destroyed Humboldt County’s Redwood Rollers at the Regional Sports Center in Springfield.  Some of the ladies are limping.  All of them, winners and losers, have bright, genuine smiles on their faces as they recount the night’s events.  The highlight being when both teams started playing roller derby while skating backwards at the very end of the bout as the results were certain. The referees threw their arms up in resignation.  This is what the game is about.

Roller derby came to Eugene in 2006.  Since then, with the help of other leagues (such as Portland’s famous Rose City Rollers), they have gone from a dozen girls getting banned from hitting at Skate World to a hundred or so gals on four teams practicing up to six times per week at the Regional Sports Center.  Each member is active in the community and driven in all that they do.  They are nurses, teachers, local business owners, bankers, graduate students, bartenders, and the list goes on.

A strong drive is necessary to push through the inevitable massive hematoma, broken ribs, dislocated joints, and brain hemorrhaging.  Only the worst injuries sideline these femmes of the flat track.  Still, occasionally disaster strikes.  Recently, one of the star skaters, Ambrusia, was forced to take a leave of absence due to a torn ACL requiring surgery.  Pregnant women are banned from the track with what is called “The 9-Month Injury.”

But, when injuries occur, the derby community is there. When Liv Evil destroyed her collar bone, she received home-cooked meals from her derby sisters.  A “Sunshine Committee” bakes cupcakes, cookies, and other sweets for injured or sick ladies.  And, most roller girls have a “derby wife.”  This relationship is not necessarily sexual (although if it makes you like derby more, it is extremely sexual, kinky, and wet).  It is more about watching out for each other in sickness, slumps, and generally dour life circumstances.  It is also someone with whom one can share her triumphs.

Of course, there are actual families within derby.  One example involves three generations of skaters: Merby Dick, a 70-year-old who resembles a tall, lean Santa Claus, skates for the new men’s derby team, the Lane County Concussion.  He is joined by his two sons and his son-in-law, Macho Mexican.  His daughter, Macho’s wife Dropkick Daisy, is a roller girl.  And, their daughter is on the children’s derby team, the Junior Gems.  Their son refs for the Gems’ bouts.  This family will fuck you up and then treat you way too nicely afterward.

Since this is an article for Boozeweek, I would be remiss not to mention the role alcohol plays in all of this.  Beer is the preferred genre of alcohol among skaters as it rehydrates and aids in carbo-loading (fuck you, Atkins).  At one point, Pabst Blue Ribbon and Ninkasi both sponsored the league.  Pabst got all sandy in the vagina about Ninkasi being involved, and since the sand did not produce a pearl, their sponsorship was dropped: yet another reason to avoid Pabst.  Ninkasi, as a show of support, donates kegs to roller derby after parties and various other derby functions (see pudding wrestling and bikini car washes.)

Alcohol aids in both the bonding after bouts and suppressing any immediate aches and pains (especially butt hurts.)  The ladies can be the most fierce rivals during the bout, but once they are together sharing a brew, you’ll see them dancing together and sharing their different derby experiences.  It’s what I imagine the NFL would be like if it were made up of gay guys: beat the shit out of each other for 60 minutes then go out for drinks.

—

It’s now 3pm the day after the bout and Bullet Brains is finally hobbling out of bed to grab a Costco-sized Gatorade.  “This is about as far from bed as I’m going to be able to make it today,” she says. “I just hope I’m not too sore for Monday.”  With Monday comes another work week and another night of practice with some hard-hitting bitches.  The hint of a smile crosses her lips as she thinks about it.  She’ll be there, loving every minute of it.

The next home bout for the roller girls is August 28^th at the Fairgrounds.  Check out www.emeraldcityrollergirls.net for more info.

Also, if you are interested in men’s roller derby, we (I’m a member) are looking for skaters of any level.  I started out looking like a mare on ice.  Visit www.lanecountyconcussion.com for more info!

International F*ck-A-Friend Day had its humble beginnings during the summer of love back in 1969.  It began as an outlet for expanding sexual awareness while high on drugs with soul mates you met a couple days ago.  It was wildly successful.

But, after the hippies became executives in the 70s, the lessons learned from the original F*ck-A-Friend Days were lost, and with the help of the Reagan administration and its invention of AIDS, F*ck-A-Friend Day was pretty much forgotten.

Until now.

We are teaming up with every sort of birth control and STD protection to reintroduce F*ck-A-Friend Day to a modern audience.  We would first like to stress that we are not doing this because we want to hook up with our smoking-hot friend Amber, who can’t see that she shouldn’t be dating her loser boyfriend and would be much better off with us.

F*ck-A-Friend Day is meant to bring close friends even closer.  We all have really good friends with whom we’ve reached a plateau: we already know everything about each other.  We share everything.  We may even share intimate details of our sexual exploits.  Wouldn’t it be so much better to show our friends what we are talking about rather than telling them?  F*ck-A-Friend Day gives you this opportunity.

F*ck-A-Friend Day is also trying to erase the taboos our society has built up around sex. Did you know that back in Shangri-La people would greet each other on the streets by having sexual intercourse?  It’s true!  My, how far we have come!  Nowadays, people won’t even allow one to talk about sex.  We’re all too afraid to take our genitals out because we may get a laundry list of STDs.  Of course, it is important to be careful about these sorts of things, but who do you trust more than your friends when it comes to clean sex?

The main goal of F*ck-A-Friend Day is to provide friends with an opportunity to broach the subject of engaging in one of life’s more enjoyable acts without the fear of it destroying the friendship.

Of course, as with having sex with anyone (friends and enemies alike), it is important to have some ground rules/reminders:

-Both parties must be consenting (and able to consent) at all times.  This is NOT Rape-A-Friend Day.

-Be sure to use some sort of protection.  It’s not Father-A-Friend’s-Baby Day.

-Be sure to follow all applicable federal and state laws, except for the stupid ones (like “no fellatio.”)

-If your friend is an Hassidic Jew, be sure to do it through a hole in a sheet.

-It is, of course, okay if your friend is already sexually active with you.

Sex is a touchy subject, so approach this carefully.  Make plans to hang out with the friend that day.  Perhaps, send them an invite to take part in this event.  Basically, ask the friend if he/she would like to participate…as a one time thing.  If they say no, try another friend.  If they say yes, this does not mean that you will have sex with them on any other day of the year or ever again.  This is strictly a one time engagement.  This understanding is necessary to avoid potential future awkwardness or friendship problems that plague every other friendship that turns sexual.

So, that is all the info you need to have a fun and successful International F*ck-A-Friend Day.  Please voice your comments and concerns below, and we will try to address them!

Happy F*cking!

July 26, 2004

Pabst Brewing Company

P.O. Box 739

Milwaukee, WI 53201

Dear Pabst Blue Ribbon,

If Budweiser is the King of Beers, than Pabst Blue Ribbon is the Violent, Reclusive Uncle of Beers.  Pabst Blue Ribbon, or PBR as we like to call it in the social circle I run with, is my favorite beer.  Before I go on, we should take care of legal business so you can keep reading.  I am 23 years old and a college graduate.  So, I enjoy your company’s product legally and always have.  I am really fat.

When enjoying your product (I am not aware of other products made by your company), I have noticed that it gives me terrible gas.  I asked this friend of mine, who likes to plant flowers but isn’t gay, if he gets the same reaction and he confirmed it.  Sometimes it can be really embarrassing.  For example, I was necking with this fine lassie after a whirlwind night of imbibing cans of PBR.  After I had spilled my seed, I rolled over and was preparing to pass out efficiently and thoroughly.  It took longer than I had hoped to turn in that night, which wouldn’t have been so bad if it hadn’t been for the devil’s rumblings in my tummy.  Tectonic plates could never produce the earthquakes begging my external anal sphincter to relax.  Unfortunately, I couldn’t just throw the aforementioned fine lassie out in the streets with her hair pie hanging out, so my only hope was to keep the earthquakes down to a dull tremor.  Luckily, they were scentless, and a crisis was averted.  I really enjoy your product, but I think your folks in R & D should look into producing an anti-gas formula of PBR and maybe PBR Light.  I don’t know.

Have you ever seen the movie Blue Velvet?  It’s directed by my favorite director, David Lynch.  You guys really oughtta check it out.  In this movie, Dennis Hopper says, “Heineken?  Fuck that shit!  PABST BLUE RIBBON!”  You guys should probably use this scene in a commercial only without the naughty words.  Speaking of which, I don’t think I’ve ever seen a PBR commercial.  I have seen your product in various movies (Midnight Madness has a scene that takes place in your factory and Brad Pitt drinks PBR in Seven), but never a commercial.  Do you just pay the hipsters to make it a symbol of ironic coolness?

Well, I just wanted to let you guys know that I just love the heck outta your beer.  Keep up the good work.  I am willing to help you guys out with suggestions since I am killing some time before going to grad school.  I like to get drunk (and not drive) and write (I am not drunk right now).  These are just a few of the flakes off of my bottomless pit of ideas.  I will look forward to your reply.  Until then, I remain,

Appallingly yours,

Psome Pseudonym

I did not receive a response.  But, they now produce PBR Light, and I can only assume it has Bean-O in it.

Full text of the ruling can be found here.

So you don’t have to read the entire text (though it’s a quick read), we’ll go ahead and try to summarize the ruling as best as we can and hopefully our lawyer friend, TW, will stop by in the comments to fill in what we missed.  Basically, there is this thing called the “establishment clause” in the Constitution that basically says that the government shall not establish any religion over another.  This includes establishing any sort of religious practices over others.  Prayer is inherently religious and holds no secular basis.  Us atheists, when in a situation in which people insist on praying, we just stand there wide-eyed looking at the goofballs around us with their eyes closed, heads bowed.  Sometimes we meet eyes with others like us and share a knowing glance: later we will meet in a closet for secular sex.  Anyway, National Prayer Day is establishing a religious practice and therefore unconstitutional.

We think this is a step in the right direction, but it does not go far enough: Government offices need to be open seven days per week.

On what day is the post office closed?  On what day do they not enforce the rking meters downtown?  When can I not get my license renewed at the DMV?  That’s right: Sunday.  The Lord’s Day.  And, it’s clear that the government believes in the Christian Lord.  After all, the Jews and Seventh-Day Adventists take Caturday off.  So, why else would these services be closed other than to respect Our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ who Died for Your Sins?

Sunday is a very convenient day for running errands.  It is the weekend for most people, so they have the opportunity to get to the stores and other places of business that haven’t officially established their faith in one religion over another.  Wouldn’t a Sunday be the ideal time for a government office to be open to the public?  Not only would it make life more convenient, but it would also create more jobs (more hours of business means more people needed to fill those hours).

So, my next challenge for you, Freedom From Religion Foundation (a plaintiff in the above case), is to force the government to open its doors on Sundays.  We’ve had enough with getting that check from mommy in the mail on Monday when we could have had it on Sunday.  Sure, it was only for $20, but that’s like 30 PBRs, and it’s much more acceptable getting trashed on a Sunday than a Monday.  Jesus.

This is the one in a series of many articles in which we seek to unravel the tapestry of lies woven by The Onion’s thread and loomed from deceitful wool.  We will not rest until we’ve sautéed and caramelized The Onion and served it with mushrooms of misinformation on tenderloin of evil to be devoured by justice and her slutty friend the truth!  We talk to the experts to get to the bottom of The Onion’s stir fry of potatoes, lies, and food metaphors!

Published on April 12, 2010, The Onion claimed, “New Six Flags Ride Based On Relationship With Deborah.”  In this article, The Onion tells us that ride designer Phillip Werner created a ride that simulated his tumultuous relationship with a mean mistreater named Deborah.  The ride, as we are lead to believe, is graphically realistic in its parallels to a real-life relationship, including drawing you in for more suffering.

This article is laughable in its detail.  Literally.  I laughed out loud while reading it.  No true journalism is this funny.  I could quote many specific examples, but instead, I am going to assume you’ve already discovered for yourself how ridiculous it is.  I will simply provide you with the hard evidence I readily obtained.

My first stop was Six Flags.  Surely, they would know if they had such a ride.  And, as luck may have it, I found the engineer mentioned in the article eating his lunch of cotton candy and sno-cones:

Urinal Gum: Hi Phil <I greeted him>; I was wondering if you could tell me a little about Deborah.

Phillip Werner:  Yeah, I don’t know where The Onion got their info <he’d clearly heard about the article>.  I’ve never dated anyone named “Deborah.”  Frankly, I think Deborah sounds like a fat person’s name.  I’m in a relationship with a woman named Earnesta.  Earnie and I have been in a happy relationship for three years now.

UG: So, you would say the writers at The Onion are lying sacks of shit?

PW: Well, effectively, yes.  Yes, I would.

UG: Well, then, say it.  Say “they’re lying sacks of shit.”

PW: I’m not going to say that.

While I was at the park, I met with Six Flags’ Director of Park Affairs.  As we walked, I asked him about the ride.  “We would never have a ride with a name like that.  We name our rides after mythological beasts or buzzwords.”  He points out the Medusa, Kong, and Paradigm Shift rides.  “Look: the bottom line is a ride like the Life Force Crusher-X (although I like the ‘X’ in the name) would never exist at any park.  People don’t want to get on rides that remind them of the most humiliating moments of their lives.  They want rides that thrill.”

So, as you can clearly see, The Onion lied to its trusting readers yet again.  But why?  We can only speculate, but one can assume beyond a reasonable doubt that the article’s writer just finished up a nasty break up.  I would not be surprised at all if the woman was named Deborah and she looked just like the picture in the article.  This is him getting his final revenge.  Pathetic.  Unprofessional.  Adjectives we’ve come to synonymize with The Onion.

How this got past the fact checkers at The Onion, I will never know.  Perhaps, The Onion doesn’t have fact checkers.  If that is indeed the case, in the interest of journalistic integrity and protecting the honor of truth, we would like to offer the olive branch of our services in helping The Onion check its facts before they embarrass themselves and their moms again.

Until then, we will continue to make sure The Onion is unpeeled!

This article originally written for the Spring 2010 issue of BoozeWeek, now available at Olive Juice and stores all over the Eugene area.  Reprinted with BoozeWeek’s permission.

Boozing on a Budget

Jack Turklesson of Urinal Gum getting wasted

Is anyone else sick of hearing the phrase “with today’s economy”? Anyway, with today’s economy, it’s getting harder and harder to drown your emotions over losing your job and having to sign up for the military to pay for your wife’s cancer treatments. Well, I’m here to help you with a few tips I’ve learned as a cheapskate boozehound. Use them well, soldier.

The Basics: Drinking in the Privacy of your Home

Liquor

Liquor is the most economical way to get alcohol in your liver, where you want it. For the price of a six pack of that pretentious microbrew you drink to impress your snobby Jack Johnson-loving friends, you can get a fifth of Black Velvet fine Canadian whisky. Get on your knees for the bottom-shelf deals. I’m a gin man, and my personal favorite is New Amsterdam. This stuff has a bottom-shelf price but can drink the top-shelf brands under the table. Also, always buy the largest quantity available. It’s expensive now, but you won’t have to go to the store again for at least a week, and you’re saving money!

Beer

PBR is NOT the way to go! Peeber, as the nickname may suggest, is the most popular “cheap” beer. So popular that the fine folks at Pabst Brewing Company are slowly increasing the price. Don’t believe me? Shop and compare next time you’re at the mart. Hell, even NBC recognizes that hipsters have ruined it for the rest of us. As I write this, I am swigging Hamm’s. It’s the cheapest of the cheap beers at the Red Apple. Oly’s (short for “Olympia”) is also great. You’re going to have to forget about microbrews (and flavor) or anything with its own TV commercial. And, you can only get away with Bud Light if you are the first black US president. But hey, if you are too self-conscious about drinking a cheap beer and don’t have the balls to put someone in their place for giving you shit about it, pour the damn thing in a pint glass.

Intermediate: Drinking Outside of the House

Flask

The flask is your best friend. Invest in one. If you get a classy one, perhaps people won’t notice that you’re a cheap asshole. For example, I have one with my initials monogrammed on it. It paid for itself within a month. Nothing gets you pussy more quickly from the bar’s leftovers than having some more liquor ready to go. It’s also great for the ballet!

Parties

Any party worth its weight in salt (I have no idea what that means) will overflow with booze. You need to be there to catch it in your mouth. If there’s a keg, steal a cup from that girl busy making out. If no keg, go to the fridge and fish out the most common beer available. That way, if someone tries to call you on your shit, you can say you also brought that variety, down the beer, bust the bottle, and jam it in the motherfucker’s eye. Also, any unattended drinks are up for grabs.

Advanced: Zero Money and Zero Flask at the Bar

“You Pay for the First Round.”

This is the oldest trick in the book. At the bar, ask a friend or “new friend” if he wants to get a drink. He will say yes. Then, ask him if he wants to get this round, and you’ll get the next. Finally, avoid him for the rest of the night. This works best with someone you were planning to avoid anyway. Never try this with girlfriends/wives: they remember everything and are unavoidable (see the 2003 Trip to the Nudie Joint).

“Put It on My Non-Existent Tab”

This works with a friend you don’t want to avoid. Tell them, “If you get the drinks, I’ll pay for them.” Have them put it on your tab. When they find out you don’t have a tab, they will be forced to pay for the drinks the bartender already made. When the friend comes back and tells you about the tab, say, “Really? You said put it on ‘Turklesson,’ right? Hmmm, that’s weird.” Then, dismiss the topic completely.

“Say, That Looks Good!”

Also acceptable: “That looks interesting. What is that?” Both should elicit an answer and the question, “Wanna try?” Then, take a giant gulp of whatever fruity shit they hand you. If you do this with ten people, you’re well on your way to a good buzz.

Well, that is all the space these bean counters at Boozeweek would give me for this article. Be sure to use your techniques responsibly. That is, don’t overuse them and ruin it for the rest of us poor saps. If you need any more tips, you can find me at the bar right there on your tab.

(Image from Tim and Eric Awesome Show, Great Job! Image maliciously stolen from zoobomb.net)

September 7, 2004

Swisher Hygiene

6849 Fairview Road

Charlotte, NC 28210

Dear Swisher,

I love peeing on your urinal guards!  Sometimes the urine splashes onto my skort, but I like having something to aim at.  I’m not sure what purpose they really serve, but they give one something to look at while he is getting rid of his waste fluids in public facilities.  Do the urinal screens serve any purpose other than to keep larger objects from going down the drain?  I just think they really liven up the normally drab urinal scene!

I was taking a whiz on your product a little while ago when I noticed that it says “Say No to Drugs” on it.  What made you guys want to put that slogan on your urinal screens?  Are urinals a popular hang out for druggies?  You guys should put slogans like “You’re Doing Well for Yourself” or “Wow, Someone Is Packing Some Heat!”  These would help people’s self-esteems and make them not want to do drugs as well.  You could have bipartisan urinal strainers in this election year that indicate who people should vote for.  Or maybe have “I Love Jesus” ones so that people will know that they should be Christian.  There is no end to the subliminal work your company could accomplish.  You could also have some “Potty Humor,” in which you put different jokes on the urinal screens.

I was recently surfing the World Wide Internet when I found a website with pictures of poop in urinals.  The website was aptly named urinalpoop.org.  I am happy to say that none of your products had been pooped on.  Some of the urinals didn’t even have a guard on them.  I was thinking you folks could use these in commercials.  You could say something like, “Do you want your urinal to look like this?”  You would then show the poopy in the urinal, and people would buy your product so that their urinals wouldn’t get clogged with poop and afterbirth.

Well, I just wanted to say how much I liked your product.  I sometimes wish we had a urinal in our house so that the four ladies I live with weren’t bugging me about putting the seat down when I’m done pissing on the floor.  I am always coming up with great ideas.  If you would like me to help you guys out, just let me know.  I am just relaxing for the next year until I go to grad school.  Well, I look forward to hearing from you guys.  Until then, I remain,

Flaccidly yours,

Psome Pseudonym

Part 2 of Chuck Norris’s report from China.

Part 1 of this fine piece can be found here.

He turned out to be a particularly Lilliputian Chinese fellow who’s first words to me were “You big trouble Gwailo (Chinese “n-word” for foreigners).  You, boy, break head.”

Granted the lighting at the club was poor, but I couldn’t remember any brains on the floor.

I was thus harangued in a similar fashion for an extended amount of time until my savior arrived in the form of my boss. He is an impressive looking Chinese fellow with a robust beard (rare), and a massive-by-Chinese-standards physique (nearly six feet tall).  He ushered in the real negotiations.

The argument was essentially this: Mary was personally responsible for her own sobriety and thus culpable for her unconscious state, therefore the Chinese guys were fully justified in their groping because she had intentionally lost the ability to defend her sensitive areas. As such, my intercession on her behalf amounted to assault because I was interrupting a completely legal raping.

Given the peculiar nature of Chinese criminal justice, we had to prove that I was not the most retarded person in the situation and thus not responsible. We were all in agreement that Mary was in fact the most retarded, but as she is foreign and a woman (both of which they regard as fairly severe mental handicaps), she was excused from the argument.

My boss (bless his godless commie soul) came up with the point that the Chinese guys had acted the most retarded* in attempting to fight a person as large as myself.

The officer was initially unimpressed with this argument.  After all, it’s well known that foreigners have no Kung Fu.  So, I proceeded to stand up, tearing my rickety Chinese torture chair I was chained to into shambles, demonstrating the strength bequeathed to me by my Viking ancestry.  They consented to the point.

However, they were then of the opinion that I must be some kind of Kung Fu menace and at least deserved deportation.  I then had to convince them that my Kung Fu was weak (not true; special thanks to Sifu Ken Johnson for my Bachelor’s in kick ass) and had only prevailed by virtue of my greater size and sobriety.

Finally, the accord was reached that I would be allowed to stay provided I trained my Kung Fu with the police officers, so that I could avoid damaging any further Chinese people with my inept Kung Fuing.  I know this is strange logic, but it made sense in Mandarin.

As is customary with all agreements of importance in China, the deal was sealed with yet another night of drunken excess, which culminated with me engaging in group urination with the Zhongshan police force on the mayor’s BMW.

I guess the moral of this sordid tale is that, whilst in China, try to avoid drinking yourself into unconsciousness or you will be molested, and if you observe such a molestation in progress, only intercede if you are of sufficient size to deter logical resistance.

*I know I run the risk of offending some readers with the repeated use of the word “retarded,” but I think this is the most asinine word to be offended by because I sincerely doubt that this article will offend any actually mentally-handicapped people.  After all, retards can’t read, and if they did read, they would surely be reading National Review and not this illustrious publication.

Section 5405a(4) states, “If a patient (no matter the degree of insurance coverage) is judged to not believe in evolution, medical professionals may not administer treatment for any disease, virus, or other malady that has evolved.”

Basically, if you don’t believe in evolution, you will be left to die.

Section 3001bb(10)iv states, “If, in giving birth, a pregnant woman will have more children than the average for women of child-bearing age (based on the latest census numbers), said woman is required to have an abortion and must also have a hysterectomy in her vagina.”

Although we appreciate the need for population control, this is inexcusable.  Abortions should never be required!  And, mandatory hysterectomies in the vaginas are reminiscent of Nazi Germany, where Hitler regularly tied Jewish tubes.

Section 6969a(22) states, “In order for any heterosexual (based on their latest dating info) to receive any health care coverage whatsoever, he/she must first be gay married.”

This is where the bill really gets disturbing.  Effectively, gay marriage is now required in the United States.

Section 1982t(21)x states, “Every American citizen must be evaluated for their greenhouse gas output, whether it’s from flatulence or from exhaling.  If their output exceeds the average, they must purchase carbon credits or they will not be allowed to see the doctor for this farting problem.”

They are basically forcing us all to become tree-hugging hippies.  We can thank the representative from Humboldt, CA for this stipulation.

And, finally, Section 187n(4)iBB(17)flc(92)pC3PO states, “Those citizens who have registered guns will not be allowed to purchase health insurance in any way, shape, or form.  If they decide to relinquish their firearms, President Obama himself will come and take away the guns.”

It’s finally happening: President Obama is taking away our guns.

So, as you can see, there is good reason to yell racial slurs, call people baby killers, throw money at Parkinson’s patients, and otherwise try to shut down Congress.  Our rights have been usurped in favor of pushing a progressive agenda.  Pick-up your poorly-worded, inaccurate posters and head to Washington (D.C., not the state) to let them know you are too angry to be rational!