Episode Three: When The going gets Tough, The Tough get...
I was going to go on an adventure today, probably save some kittens forced into work at the old sawmill or chastise a group of youngsters going to PG-13 movies without parental permission. But then I remembered that they closed down the old sawmill because some girl got murdered... no, that was Twin Peaks, wasn’t it? Shit. I gotta get my act together.
Things haven’t been so good in Akron lately. I usually go to a place called Hegel’s Bagels—they have the thesis (cream cheese), antithesis (lox and capers), and synthesis (smoked salmon). But they got closed down by the Akron Health Department, a group of blunt-smoking Bolsheviks so intent on dialectical materialism that they drove all the good places out
of town. All that’s left is fucking Arby’s. I have to drive forty-five minutes out of town to the goddamn Fractured Prune to dig their week- old donuts out of the trash because that’s the only thing that gets me going like before. Maybe I should just start doing blow again.
Those were the days, right? Just me and the boys, driving on the sidewalks, making dogsleds with the K9 team, chugging bottles of syrup, making dogsleds with the fourteen- year-old weed dealers in lock-up, bustin’ a big one into the inside of Officer Miller’s riot mask, replacing the rubber bullets with licorice gumballs, getting astronomically high and dicking around outside the Waffle House, frisking the shit out of the community college girls, blasting KRS-ONE and NWA while driving through the high school parking lot, hiding seized fireworks in the cars we sell at auction so that
they go off in case there’s a pileup— shits and giggles kind of stuff.
But times really have changed. I have seven lawsuits filed against me right now. I’ve been on Dateline so many times that Stone Philips is my emergency contact. I’ve gotten fat as shit. I know all the flavors of Doritos. I was thinking about taking a pilates class at the Y, get in shape, maybe even making some friends, but they revoked my membership when I fired a warning shot into the pool because I wanted to cut the line at the diving board. I arrested all of my dealers. Only Insane Clown Posse plays here anymore. I masturbate so much I don’t even notice when I’m doing it anymore— makes it real fucking awkward for the mailman. It’s gotten so bad I even started thinking about getting a library card. I guess the fun times are finally over.
Jesus Christ, I miss my wife.
My fellow Americans: not that anyone thought to ask, but I’m pleased to report that things are going pretty good for me right now. I recently experienced an economic windfall when I found five bucks in my jacket, resulting in a budget surplus. Of course, this sudden stroke of good fortune comes in the wake of the devastating financial catastrophe that ensued after mom neglected to remove my wallet from my jeans when she put them in the laundry over break.
Speaking of the incompetence of those we thought we could trust, I turn now to foreign policy. The central goal of my administration’s international strategy was to achieve that benchmark widely recognized as the hallmark of a great power. I am, of course, referring to “getting laid.” It was assumed that we were making progress with respect to this objective with Stephanie, the cute girl at Kinko’s. We even managed to have coffee with her, and went to a party with her two weeks ago.
Then, Joegate ensued. Somehow, elements of the Joe Federation obtained access to highly classified materials on our computer systems (pornography and drunkenly composed poetry) and leaked them to Stephanie. When questioned, the Federation’s President Clement tried to play it off as a joke, but we responded with a communiqué indicating that this was not cool, dude. We acknowledge the Joe Federation has given us valuable assistance in the past, particularly that one time in high school when we were so drunk we were puking everywhere and Joe not only drove us home but dealt with mom and dad. However, this most recent action may force us to rethink his status with our nation as “best bud.”
The years ahead are no doubt full of tumult and unease. However, I can say with confidence that we have nothing to fear and there is every reason to remain at ease, as this joint I am in the process of lighting seems to be dank as shit.
According to sources close to the department, Wesleyan’s Russian Literature faculty is still reeling from last week’s shutdown of Megaupload.com by federal prosecutors. The popular file- sharing service, which is accused of costing copyright holders over $500 million in pirated sales, has been integral to departmental operations since late 2006.
The Life and Times of Stern Angus, Akron Police Department
“You know, it’s just how I teach,” explained department chair Natalia Chichikovsky. “You think I actually went out and bought Anna Karenina when I could just leech that shit online?”
According to Professor Chichikovsky, drawbacks of the system are minimal.
“There was a bit of trouble when I realized that the whole last chapter of Hero Of Our Time was missing and replaced with the rape scene from Lolita,” Chichikovsky added. “But, you know, most freshmen didn’t even seem to notice. I think.”
Today, Chichikovsky spends most of the workday refreshing Megaupload’s URL fruitlessly from her third-floor office in Fisk Hall, mourning the loss of a remarkably rich literary heritage
in Wesleyan’s course offerings thanks to one federal shutdown. Privately, though, some suspect that members of the department may have had a hand in bringing about the raid.
“I knew Professor Gogolstoy shouldn’t have organized that IP attack on 4chan or downloaded all that erotic Brothers Karamazov fan fiction,” explained one Russian Lit professor who spoke on terms of strict anonymity. “But, that chapter with the Zosima/ Dmitri/Katerina threesome was totally worth it — I mean, what? No, that wasn’t me.”
In related news, Introduction to Experimental Music has been postponed indefinitely until someone can convince Professor Alvin Lucier to pay money for Vespers.