So I Went to Jail Last Night: Bonus Track

As I mentioned yesterday in the comments, there was a bunch of stuff I left out of yesterday’s adventure but it was already at triple the word count of my average post. Rather than just write a giant story and spread it out over two days I chose to write the story beginning to end yesterday and just save a couple of the highlights for today so heeeerrreeee we go!


My jail bracelet. I can give this to The Wienery in the West Bank for a free meal and I fully intend to




After I first arrived, while I was receiving my pat down from Officer Tendertouch, another cop with a clipboard and pen asked me a bunch of questions. Am I on drugs? Do I drink every day? Am I on medication? Any mental illness? Any allergies? Normally I’d answer questions like these a little more carefully (if the Red Cross knew about how I lived in the Central African Republic after 1977 I’d never be able to donate blood) but my hands were up against a wall and some guy whose name I didn’t even know was getting to third base with me. I wasn’t exactly thinking on my toes so I just blurted out whatever came to my head. I was given a red paper bracelet which I later learned meant I had to see the nurse.


A couple of hours later (after fingerprinting when I was in the cell with the crazy barking guy) I was called out to see the nurse. Oh shit. Everything was such a blur earlier that I didn’t know what I said “yes” to in that questionnaire. Are they going to force me to take jail drugs? Is this how it works? They dope me up and I’m just in the system now? OH SHIT IS THIS HOW THE GOVERNMENT MAKES CRAZY HOMELESS PEOPLE? I sat down with the nurse and she said that I told them I had allergies, asthma and mental problems.

“Allergies? Oh, I’m allergic to clam. Do you really need to know that?”

“Well, we have that in our system now. We like to be thorough.” Shit! They know my weakness now!

The mental problems were ADD. Apparently while I was getting frisked I thought they should know that. When she asked about the asthma I told her it was Exercised Induced Asthma (yes, it’s a real thing), Asthma’s fat cousin. She asked if I was taking any medication for it and I told her that I did as a child but decided to cut out the middle man and just stopped exercising. The nurse cut my red wristband and sent me back to the cell.


A little while later this kid struts into the processing area like he owns the place. Everybody else in the jail either seemed scared or pissed off that they were there but this kid was at ease, like he belonged there. He was home. If his laid back confidence didn’t tell everybody around him that he had been here more than once he let us know with a physical demonstration by walking up to the sink in the cell and turning it on. I tried to look to see how he did this but nothing tipped me off. I think the sink only spouts water for the Alpha male.

He couldn’t have been older than 21 but his hair suggested he was a teenager in 1989. It was part mullet, part ducktail. Like, all buzzed except for the bottom of the back of his head where 5 loosely braided tails came out. I tried googling “braided mullet” and “mullet ducktail” but the internet can’t find any pictures that properly fit his hair desciption. If I ever find it I’ll post the picture on here. I promise.

A couple of guys start asking the kid questions about where do they pick up their stuff after they’re released and what happens next. When you’re in jail for the first time, you aren’t given a pamphlet with a step by step process. Nobody tells you exactly what happens next or when. You’re just called when you’re called and ushered to where you’re supposed to go. It’s kind of disorienting. The kid starts explaining the steps and pulls an orange out of his pocket. One guy asked where he got it and the kid started laughing and said “I swiped it from that guard lady’s desk!”. He then walked out of the cell and just started meandering around the fingerpinting area, eating the orange. The two guards stared at him in shocked silence for a few seconds until the guard at the desk said “Where the fuck did you get that orange?”

“Oh, I found it over there” he said, pointing to the cell with all the sandwich crusts and apple cores, laughing as he pointed.

“Bullshit. You took that orange from my desk, didn’t you?”

“Nah, man. I got it from that cell. It was just there.” He stifled a chortle and shoved an orange slice past his ear-to-ear grin.
The guard at the desk looked at the other guard “Can you believe this little shit? He just stole my fucking orange! I was gonna have that for lunch!” Neither guard had even mentioned how he left the cell without permission. The other guard grabbed the kid by the arm, said “Let’s go, kid. You’re taking a nap.” and led him down the hallway. The guard at the desk sprang up, ran to catch up with the two and grabbed the kid’s other arm. The kid said “I already took a nap! I was in the drunk tank for like nine hours!” and the guard replied “well you’re taking another nap.” They rounded a corner and were out of sight. I heard a door open followed by three loud thuds. I looked at the other guys in the cell and said “That guy just got beat down, didn’t he?” They didn’t respond.


Oh, I should mention, this is what I was wearing that night –



My face has been blurred to protect my identity.




I had a small role in a sketch for the Reapie Awards and I was told to dress “old timey” so that’s what I went with. After my sister, who can do 1,000 pushups and once bowled a 300 while sleepwalking, posted my bail I met them in the lobby. She told me that when she posted my bail that she told the desk clerk “I’m here for William Young. He’s my brother”. The clerk responded by asking “does your brother look like a 1790s fur trapper”? Apparently I’m the first person to be arrested in suspenders since Orville Redenbacher after all those strippers were found murdered with popcorn shoved in their mouths.


Thanks for reading! I swear this will be the last jail related post but if you want to hear me talk about it out loud with my mouth I’ll be at Google All Over You Facebook: The Vilification Tennis Social Network Show! I’ll be live tweeting the whole show and I’ve been given a few minutes to talk about my experience. Check it out, y’all!

So I Went to Jail Last Night.

Last night Jena and I went to the 2011-12 Minneapolis Comedy Death Squad Awards and I’m proud to say this little blog won the “best blog / vlog” award. Thanks to everybody who voted!

Finally! An award I can never show my grandmother.

The latest addition to my family of Reapie awards. No big deal.




After we got home I gave our friend Kaia (who was kind enough to babysit) a ride home. After I dropped her off and helped her get her things out of my car I started driving back home but forgot to turn my headlights back on (YES MY CAR IS SO OLD THE HEADLIGHTS DON’T JUST TURN ON AUTOMATICALLY LEAVE ME ALONE I’M POOR). After just a block and a half of headlightless driving a cop pulled me over. I’ve stated before that I’m pathologically scared of cops so getting pulled over is always a shitstorm of anxiety but I tried to calm myself by reminding myself that I was probably just going to get a warning. My license was valid, the tabs were up to date, I was insured, everything was on the up and up. The cop asked for my license and insurance and went back to his car. He came back in less than a minute later. I figured the cop realized he had more important things to do than give some jackass who forgot to turn on his headlights a panic attack. That’s when the cop told me I had a bench warrant for a moving violation from last year and that he would have to take me to jail.


The cop gave me a couple of minutes to make a phone call before he handcuffed me so I tried to call Jena. No answer and I can’t leave a voicemail since we use the google voice service so it’s like we have the same voicemail for different numbers or something. I typed up a text that said “Going to jail. Warrant. Be home late. For the love of god turn your ringer on” and gave the cop my cell phone. One quick ride later we end up at the garage entrance to the jail waiting behind a Minnetonka cop car.



Note to suburban cops; city cops totally shit talk you when you’re not listening.



We head into an underground garage and the cops that arrested me totally cut in front of the suburban cops. The driver said “whelp, looks like we’re going first!” and brought me into a room with about a half dozen deputies standing around. One of them was weaing rubber gloves. He was to be my dance partner for the next two minutes.



I thought I’ve been patted down before. Going to certain music venues and airports I was all too familiar with a process that I was told was “patting down” but all those times I may as well have been given a high five for how noninvasive those pat downs were compared to this cop’s pat down. This man patted. Me. Down. Nothing was unexplored. I can now confirm that there are no weapons or drugs in my taint or buttcrack. I think he’s my boyfriend now. I’m a little pissed he hasn’t called but I don’t want to seem desperate. My shoes were taken and I was told to swap out my pants for some stylish orange sweats in a bathroom.


In the bathroom I noticed there was the “toilet without a seat” and realized that I needed to shit but I figured I’d have to ask permission first so I changed and they took me to a small (probably 4X8?) cell. After watching the half dozen cops stand around for ten minutes I realized I probably wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon and needed to go to the bathroom. I pressed the call button on the intercom in the cell and a voice said “go ahead”.
“Hey, I hate to be a bother but I really need to go to the bathroom. Can that happen, please?”
“Everybody on duty is pretty busy right now so it may take a minute”.
I looked through the glass wall and saw the half dozen cops chatting away. Five minutes later the voice from my little intercom boomed through the big intercom in the room “Oh hey the guy in 14 needs to use the bathroom if anybody has a minute”. One of the cops escorted me to the bathroom where I changed.


30 seconds after sitting on the toilet it started flushing. I didn’t move. I didn’t touch anything. It just flushed. It did it again a minute later. After I was done I tried to find a lever to flush it manually but there was none. I went to the sink to wash my hands but there was no switch or button for the faucet. I waved my hands around, thinking there was a sensor. No luck. I started pushing and twisting at different parts of the sink but no water came. I poked my head out the door and asked “Hey, is the sink like a puzzle or is there-”
“That’s enough. Come on out.”
I still don’t know how those sinks work.



After some processing and mugshotting I was escorted to a larger, open cell with one other guy in it. The place was filthy. The floor and benches were covered in half eaten sandwiches, bread crusts and apple cores. While waiting around I noticed that there were a ton of bread crusts. Like, almost everybody who ate there earlier tore the crusts off their sandwiches. I pointed that out to the other guy in the cell. “Do you think there’s a connection? Like, if you tear the crusts off your sandwich you’re 40% more likely to be a criminal?” He told me I shouldn’t base my PhD thesis off of it.



For about a half an hour it was just me and this other guy in the cell. He was older, maybe in his 50s. Short, thin, grey hair. I wanted to ask him. Of course I wanted to ask him. How do you not ask? It’s so easy. Just four little words. “What did you do?”. I went over the different ways I could ask him. I wanted to seem cool but not that I was trying to look like I’m cool. I blurted out “So how did you end up in here?” and immediately regretted it. The guy actually looked at me for a second, turned away and said “Because there’s nobody out there.” I honestly thought he would start fading away at that moment, like a fog. I’d reach out to touch him but there was soon nothing there. I’d call out to the guard and ask where my cellmate went and the guard would look at me, puzzled, and say “Sir, you’ve been the only one in that cell all night”.



After a full computer scan of my hand and five sets of old fashioned fingerprints, I was allowed to call Jena and put into a different cell with more people. One guy started barking at me and immediately apologized, saying he hasn’t had his meds. The other guy started complaining about how uncomfortable the concrete bench was, saying that it was like they were trying to make us uncomfortable. Crazy bark guy agreed, saying the place was “twisting up my insides like a fork twisting spaghetti”. I said “Yeah, I’m totally giving these guys a bad review on Yelp”. There was total silence until the not crazy guy said “man, what’s yelp?” and I explained what it was and there was more silence. Five minutes later a couple of the guards were talking. One said “I can’t believe how many people complain about this place! ‘Uhh, this sucks, can’t you go faster? It’s cold in here!’ Seriously, if you hate it here so much than don’t get arrested”. I stuck my head out the door and said “Oh this place is definitely getting a terrible review from me on Yelp” and the guards laughed. I turned to my cellmates and said “See? It’s funny if you get the reference!”



Long story short (word count so far, 1372), my wonderful, smart, talented, beautiful sister who is also an amazing public speaker came with her rugged yet dapper husband and they bailed me out for $50. I got home a little before 5AM (arrested a little after midnight) and Jena greeted me at the door and hugged me. I leaned down and whispered in her ear “I was prison raped”. She looked up at me and said “were you even in there long enough to get raped?”
“What? How long do you think rape takes? It’s not like there’s foreplay involved.”



Thanks to the Minneapolis Police Department for keeping threats like me off the streets.

The Drunk Heckler: A One Act Play Written by Me When I Was a Kinda Douchey 22 Year Old

As many of you know this isn’t my first blog. I’ve often reposted stuff from my old myspace blog when I’m too busy/sick/hungover to come up with something new but that was not my first blog either. Way back in the early aughts I had a livejournal account.


Back in 2004 when blogs were still a thing people read, I loved reading stuff from people like Tucker Max and Maddox. Their influence on my early writing is pretty plain to see (as you’ll soon find out). As a young comedian who just started getting some paid work and was still new at the whole “being able to drink” legally thing, I started posting stories about my grand escapades of getting wasted and yelling at people that I thought were dumber than me because they liked country music or something. Frankly, I was kind of a douchebag.


I’ve held onto a lot of the early stuff I’ve written because even though I’m a bit embarrassed by it, there’s still some funny in there and it provides a bit of a snapshot of my life at the time. Here’s something I wrote over 7 years ago. I flirted with chopping out some of the stuff that makes me seem like a pretentious asshole but I ultimately decided to leave it completely unedited for you, the three people that will read this, so you can see what my writing was like back then.


THE DRUNK HECKLER: A ONE ACT PLAY WRITTEN BY ALCOHOL


(Scene: Grumpy’s open mic, Wednesday. An otherwise fine open mic was interrupted sporadically by two drunks in the front booth. One, some longhair, was obviously drunker than the other, as I saw him fall into the wall in the bathroom. He stumbles out the bar shortly after the show is over and is not seen for the rest of the night. His friend {heretofore known as HECKLER} exclaims “Aw, he does that shit all the time! He’ll end up at home sooner or later!” and proceeds to buy Brody, Lizzy, Mitch and myself shots. Lizzy and Brody break off into their own conversation, leaving Mitch and I stranded. Mitch leaves roughly 15 minutes after this happens, leaving only HECKLER and myself. The following is a series of excerpts from the conversation we had starting at 11:30 P.M. and ending at 1:00 A.M. when I finally convinced Brody to leave.)
(Note: Some of you may question while reading the story “Why didn’t Bill just say something really mean/funny to the jackass and leave?”. Three reasons.

1. I like Grumpy’s. The food, staff and open mic are all great. I don’t want to cause a scene by yelling at this fuck and not be welcome back.

2. I didn’t drive that night. Brody was my ride and I still haven’t forgiven him for trapping me with said fuck.

3. The fuck was buying us round after round of free drinks. Don’t judge me.)


HECKLER: No, man! You were really funny tonight! That shit was hilarious! I didn’t know I wasn’t supposed to… you know,

ME: Yell shit out in the middle of our jokes?

HECKLER: Yeah! I’m sorry about that! I’m really, I’m sorry, OK? I won’t do it again! I just didn’t know, you know?

ME: Well, now you know.

HECKLER: Yeah! And I’m sorry! You were funny, though! You were one of the funnier ones who were… You were awesome man! That joke you did about the beer bottle thing with the… with the…

ME: The ruffie joke?

HECKLER: Yeah! That’s how I know where… that was awesome, man! I’m gonna do that sometime!

ME: What, rape someone?

HECKLER: What? No, I should do the comedy thing sometime! I’m a funny guy! I don’t care what anybody says, I think I’m a really funny guy! I think I’m funny… and I could do comedy. I really do!

ME: You should try it sometime. It’s pretty easy.

HECKLER:… … You don’t like me, do you?

ME: Not really.

HECKLER: And that’s okay! At least you’re being honest with me! Not like sideburns over here (half heartedly shoves Brody, who has had his back to us the whole conversation, Brody turns to us) Man, those are some wicked sideburns. Let me buy you guys another drink!
(elapsed time, 30 minutes)

HECKLER: So I think I’m a funny guy, right? I can do this! It’s like the time I got a D.U.I. and had to go to court. All because I had two beers in an hour! The judge mad me pay a three thousand dollar fine! Two beers in AN HOOOUR! That’s fucked up, man! Can you believe that shit?

ME: (poking Brody in the back) Wow, that’s fucked up.

HECKLER: I know! Wait, hold on (he holds his finger up to me, tilts his head to the radio) I fucking love this song! (he proceeds to air drum)

ME: (noticing he’s momentarily distracted, but in on Brody and Lizzy’s conversation) Hey guys.

LIZZY: I’m sorry, Bill. We’re having a very spiritual conversation.

ME: Really? Me too. Can we go now?

HECKLER: (with the song over, stops drumming) Hey, let’s do some shots!
(elapsed time, 60 minutes)

HECKLER: Did you see the drumming, man? I used to, used to be in a band! It was fucking rad, man. We would tour and shit! Oh, and the pussy! Chicks dig it when you’re in a band, man. That was great. (stares off in the distance for about ten seconds, probably remembering when he was cool) Do you guys get any chicks with the comedy, man?

ME: No. Never.

HECKLER: Man. That sucks. You should be in a band! Fuckin’ jammin (starts to air drum again).

ME: (poking Brody in the back) Hey. Hey. Hey. (Brody and Lizzy both turn around).

HECKLER: Let me buy you guys another drink! (to Lizzy) You were really funny tonight!

LIZZY: Oh thank you!

HECKLER: You’re really pretty. You know that?

LIZZY: Oh… thank you.

HECKLER: But you know who’s really pretty? This guy! Just look at those sideburns! (strokes Brody’s sideburns)

BRODY: (gives me the “we should leave now” look)

ME: (gives Brody the “we should have left a fucking hour ago” look)
(elapsed time, 90 minutes)
(Approx. 1:00 A.M. Brody and I are in the parking lot walking toward his car)

BRODY: Dude, I’m sorry that took so long.

ME: Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you.

President’s Day

President’s Day began as a celebration of George Washington, the first Commander in Chief that led colonists to victory in the Revolution, oversaw the Constitutional Convention and served two terms as our fledgling nation’s first president. Over time, the celebration included Abraham Lincoln. The man who held this country together as the secession threateaned to tear it apart while he apparently fought vampires. While eventually the meaning of President’s day has evolved to encompass the office of the Presidency and all who hold it, these two men still embody the spirit of the holiday with their values of patriotism, sacrifice and great deals on bedroom furniture.


"I cannot tell a lie. You shan't pay any interest on this desk until February 2013!"




Today we honor George Washington, who rallied the Continental troops after a series of devastating defeats from the British showing that we would settle for nothing less than independence and 50% off red tag items at Kohls.


We honor Abraham Lincoln, who fought for the ideal that all men, black and white, should be free from the slavery of a down payment on a new Kia.


We honor all Presidents, past and present, who hold the highest office in America and offer the lowest prices on power tools at JC Penny.


[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rUkIqP-YHBQ&w=420&h=315]

Thank you, Presidents Washington and Lincoln. Your sacrifice was not in vain.

“Bone Mangler” Playground Slides Recalled For Safety Reasons.

Parents going overboard with protecting their children has been talked about so much it’s cliche. When thinking of child safety the image of “Tucker” or “Hunter” or whatever yuppie kid name comes to mind, covered head to toe in headpads and toehelmets.

"Mom! I can't move!"

So considering that this society is so afraid that it’s children is going to get a splinter that they wrap a child in pillows every time they play a board game it’s strange that this slide was sold to schools all over the country.

The Groinbuster! From Bustco!

This is the Slalom Glider and it’s currently being recalled like crazy because a bunch of kids fractured their bones on it. Look at it! It looks like it was designed to make kids fall off it.

not pictured: pit of broken glass at the bottom.

The weird part is that most of the kids who were injured on it were injured because there’s no platform between the ladder and the beginning of the slide so they were falling off the damn thing before even making their terror straddle ride down. I just hope there were no bullies in the playgrounds where these were installed. I remember one time in elementary school some kid held his hand out at the bottom of the slide and smacked me in the face. I can only imagine what he would have done if I had come at him spread-eagle.

The producer of the slide has apologized for their poor design and promised to replace each slalom glider with an abandoned refridgerator.

You can't escape the fun!

Rape: How Much is Too Much?

Being a woman on Fox News has to be the easiest job in the world. Fox News has an obligation to give both conservative sides of the story and it’s hard to find educated, republican women in broadcasting since republican ideologies kind of tilt towards the “barefoot and pregnant” end of the spectrum. When Fox can get a woman on camera they’ll let her say whatever she wants and they have to agree with her because she’s a conservative. Victoria Jackson’s taken full advantage of it and political writer Andrew Coulter has spent years in drag just to get some screen time.



Classic "Bosom Buddies" grift.




One commentator who really tested the limits of this unwritten rule is journalist and horrible human being Liz Trotta



[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4ooMMue-qwQ&w=420&h=315]


I’m not going to explain why that’s wrong because I shouldn’t have to if you’re not a rapist and The Daily Show already did a perfect job skewering her. Hell, just google “Liz Trotta” and you can find an entire news media dogpile on her but what’s really strange is that it’s been nearly a week now and neither she nor Fox have issued any follow up statements to this. No apology, no backpedal, no defense, no announcement that she’s been fired. It’s like they’re just waiting for this all to blow over.


What’s even more messed up is that while this may be the most horrible thing she’s said on air, it’s not the first completely awful thing she’s said on air. Here she is wishing for the assassination of the President.



[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BjYpkvcmog0&hl=en_US&feature=player_embedded&version=3]


She later apologized for her “lame attempt at humor”.


Frankly, I think she wants to be fired. She’s been doing the pundit gig far too long and just wants to retire but she needs to get fired to get a severance package so she’s just going to say the most awful things and hope to get axed but Fox just won’t let her go. The question is how does she take it to the next level? She’s already called for the president’s assasination “jokingly” and told women who serve in the armed forces that they should expect to be raped. The only way she could step up her game is if she did a mashup of the two statements.


"Frankly, I think the President should expect to be raped."




Somebody should just tell her that if she wants Fox News to fire her she should come out in support of same sex marriage, universal health care or labor unions.

President Ghosthunter

A while back I saw this get posted on facebook. It’s a trailer for the upcoming movie FDR American Badass!



[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-R898wegx6Y&w=560&h=315]



Okay. That looks kind of fun. Some low budget modern B movie fare that’ll do the independent theater rounds this summer. Count me in.



Then I saw this on IMDB



[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=34x6m-ahGIo&w=560&h=315]



Wait… what? Abraham Lincoln, Vampire Hunter? This one actually looks like a big production. Big budget, produced by Tim Burton. Is presidential historical paranormal fantasy a film genre now? I better hop on this and write some scripts (most of you know I bang out screenplays in my spare time for beer money).


TEDDY ROOSEVELT AND THE SASQUACH
A young Roosevelt is vacationing in the newly opened Yellowstone National Park with his father when his father is killed by “wild animals”. President Ulysses S. Grant, who commissioned the park, reveals to Teddy that his father was actually killed by the mythical beast Bigfoot who has been terrorizing Yellowstone. President Grant trains Teddy to lead an elite team of Bigfoot hunters to kill the beast once and for all. Like “Predator” but everybody has big mustaches.


JFK AND THE MOON MEN
President Kennedy, in a secret meeting with civil rights activist and psychic Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., learns of a prophetic dream Dr. King had about the threat of Soviet Moon Men. President Kennedy assembles a crack espionage team including demolitions expert Dick Nixon and femme fatale Marilyn Monroe to fly an experimental rocket to the moon and face them head on.


ANDREW JACKSON: MUMMY EXTERMINATOR
Andrew Jackson kills all the Indians but it’s okay because they’re actually mummies.


Now if you’ll excuse me I have to take a bunch of calls from big time Hollywood producers.

To Jena, My Wife, Whom I Slept With.

My love for you knows no artistic ability. Seriously. If you knew how long it took me to make this crappy Valentine you'd be really embarrassed but kind of touched that I put so much effort into expressing my love for you even though the end product looks like something a third grader did if he wasn't really trying. I love you <#




Jena. There are so many reasons I made you this homemade Valentine.


* I wanted to express my love for you without buying into the whole consumer trap of Valentine’s Day.

* I’m broke.

* Hoping to get some action.

* In approx. AD 270, a Roman priest named Valentinus was jailed for marrying Christian couples. Back then, it was a crime to help Christians be Christian. Claudius Gothicus took a liking to him and was going to spare him but sentenced Valentinus to death after Valentinus tried to convert Claudius. I’d like to think that my love for you is like Valentinus’ love for Christianity. Devotion to the point of stupidity.

Thank God I’ll never have to prove it to that extreme but if loving you was a crime, I hope that I’d be put to death talking the jailer’s ear off about how awesome you are and how happy you make me.

Here’s My Excuses.

Every now and then there’s some news story about a person with a disability overcoming that disability to do something awesome. Think about it and you can probably recall seeing some human interest story about an autistic artist or armless mountain climber or woman driver. They can be very inspirational or if you’re like me, they just show that not only is there always somebody better than me at something, but he probably has Downs Syndrome.


I’m of course reading into it way too much. These people aren’t out there breaking world records with broken spines just to spite people who have it easy. OR ARE THEY?


Yes, I know people are saying it's a photoshop but let's put that aside for now because it doesn't help the joke at all.





Well that’s unnecessarily aggressive.


This photo showed up on my facebook feed shared by a friend and originally posted by the Primal Muscle facebook page (frankly I prefer my muscle a little more civilized). Fine. You want my excuses? Here they are.


* Maybe I’d find the time to work out if I didn’t have to park in the back of the parking lot everywhere I went.

* You know how they say when you go blind your other senses are heightened? Maybe that’s how it works with the body, too.

* I’d probably be all cut too if I was hopping around everywhere on one leg and picking myself up after falling down all the time.

* It would actually be harder for me to look like that because I’d have a whole other leg to work out.

* The order could be flipped here. Super muscle guy loses his leg and then lets himself go. Not very inspirational but I totally wouldn’t blame him.

* It doesn’t say how he lost that leg. Have you seen exercise equipment? It’s not a stretch to think that he got a gym membership, didn’t read the instructions on the weight machine thingy and it took his leg off. Sure, that story makes him even more determined if he came back to the gym after that horrific accident but he could have avoided it all in the first place had he just stayed home.

*I’m lazy.


Damn, coming up with all these excuses has really worn me out. I’m gonna go take a nap.

White People!

Duluth, MN is a predominantly white city. Settled originally by Vikings when their ship crashed into the harbor after being tricked by freshwater mermaids, the city has not seen much racial diversity until a couple of black families moved there a while back.



While racial diversity is in low supply in Duluth, racial disparity is bursting at the seams. With 67% of the black and 56% of the Native American population living in poverty (compared to 18% of white people). With this in mind, the Unfair Campaign was created in hopes to spark conversations about racism, specifically, “white privilege”. The campaign put up these posters around the city –


Black people are lucky people don't write shit on their faces all the time.




Usually after I pass out at a party people just draw dicks on my face, not a bunch of stuff about white privilege.




Something something clever 3rd caption joke




As well as billboards that say “It’s HARD to see RACISM when you’re white”.


The campaign has certainly sparked conversation. According to the Star Tribune, white people are totally offended.


From the article – “Hundreds of the city’s white residents have complained that the campaign’s kick-off images and messages are offensive. The campaign, they say, blames all racism on whites”. Granted, not all racism comes from whites, just the kind that has any effect on people’s lives.



The campaign has received worldwide attention and the mayor of Duluth has recieved dozens of messages from all over calling for the death of a race traitor. Seriously. White supremacist websites are even talking about it (don’t click the link. It’s… not pleasant).


Turns out the Unfair campaign was wrong. White people can see racism just fine, especially when it’s the kind of racism where white people are accused of not acknowledging racism which is apparently a form of racism.


And racism that’s not actually racism against white people is the worst racism of all.