I've always been fascinated with the "they don't teach this in high school" brand of history, that paints dark portraits of some of America's most beloved figures and reveals a darker side to seemingly inocuous things. Columbus was genocidal and incompetent. "Ring Around The Rosie" is about the Black Plague. Those are really obvious examples of what I'm talking about. I don't even care if they're true as long as they make a vaunted historical figure look like an asshole. I decided to try my hand at exposing the underbelly of Thanksgiving. I hope it didn't come off as some cynical diatribe against the wastefulness of American culture, because I didn't have anything nearly that heavy in mind when I wrote it. In fact, half of the reason I chose the topic of Thanksgiving is because Frolixo updates next Thursday and now he'll look like a fraud if he tries to write about it.
As mentioned previously, the body of Reid "Frolixo" Paskiewicz was found on Monday, slumped over a box of Magic: The Gathering cards, dead of an apparent heart attack at age 15 and a half. Given the absence of a final will and testament, Paskiewicz's destitute family decided to auction off his mortal remains on the auction site eBay. What ensued was a fierce bidding war, which I ultimately won for the price of 75 dollars and a knockoff Fendi handbag.
I've had the cadaver stuffed and mounted by a taxidermist I met at a Ted Nugent concert, and the final product is breathtaking. Unfortunately, the corpse was stored improperly began to putrefy slightly while en route to my house, so there is a bit of blackish discoloration in the face and arms where the blood pooled up inside of him. Overall I think it's an improvement. Taking a cue from retro theme restaurants with Cadillac grills jutting out from every surface, I've decided to saw off his legs and mount him in the middle of the wall, giving the illusion that he just crashed into the building. On a related note, I will be selling his legs to the highest bidder. $35 a piece or $60 for the set. Don't miss out on your chance to own these two of a kind conversation pieces.
I'm rollin' on outta here homies! Smell ya later!
Elliot said my breakup must have been due to the sweater curse, an unexplained phenomenon where anyone who gives their significant other a hand-knit sweater gets dumped. The only way to break the curse, Elliot said, was to destroy the sweater.
Can't tell a drinking fountain from a urinal? We've got you covered. Brush up on your drinking fountain enthusiast -- or sipper -- vocabulary and learn to talk and swap sips with the best of them.
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