America loves its spokespeople. Having delivered that ineffable truism, I could just end this article right now and walk away with the satisfied smirk one gets from a job well done. There would be nothing wrong with leaving that first sentence as it is and letting you all meditate on it for a while. But that just wouldn't be my style, so I'm going to keep on explaining myself, and let's face it, you're going to keep on reading. Neither of us really have anything better to do with our time. So, as I was saying, there's nothing that Americans love more than finding that one special person who comes to stand for the things they love. Whether human, animal, or mythical creature, there's just something about those little balls of charisma that fill our hearts with glee.
With Fred, it was always time to make the donuts! Now I just don't know what time it is.
Spokespeople have a huge impact on us all. Dunkin' Donuts never had more success than it did when Fred the Donut Guy was up to make the donuts at the crack of dawn. I can't tell you the first thing about the quality of Michelin tires, but if the Michelin Staypuft Marshmallow Man says they're good, I'm sold. Plus he makes me want to rent "Ghostbusters" again, and that can't be bad! And we all know deep down in the cockles of our hearts that we would never choke down another freakish square-shaped, mayonnaise-slathered meat patty from Wendy's if not to honor the memory of Dave "Hi, I'm Dave Thomas" Thomas. Yes, a good spokesperson can make you fall in love with their represented product, service, or event, no matter how crappy it might be. I mean, cigarettes are filthy, stinking flammable poison sticks, but I would have lit up in a heartbeat if I thought it would give me a chance to hang out with that kickass camel in the leather jacket. But let's face it - dying of emphysema just hasn't been the same since ol' Joe Camel stopped coming around so much.
But spokespeople aren't restricted just to commercial services. It's our nature to put a face on everything we can, for one reason or another. Major holidays are especially prone to having their own representatives. Christmas has Santa Claus and Easter has the Easter Bunny, both of which take a lot of the heat off of Jesus. And that's good! Because without Santa, Christmas would be an in-depth celebration of a woman laying on a pile of itchy hay, going through a long, agonizing labor without any of today's modern medicines or even the presence of a qualified doctor, while her only distraction is the nagging thought that she's going through all that pain without even having had the pleasure of getting knocked up the natural way in the first place. That's not the sort of thing that you really want kids dwelling on. And without the Easter Bunny to fill our minds with thoughts of cuddly rodents and the chocolate eggs they leave behind, Easter would be all about Jesus coming back from the dead, which would either make the holiday a lot more terrifying, or ruin every zombie movie ever made. Hell, we'll make up reasons to celebrate just to have a spokesperson to rally around! Take the tooth fairy for example - if not for the thought that a magical little pixie was going to flutter into their room, take their tooth, and leave some money behind, do you really think kids would greet their teeth coming loose and falling out of their mouths with the same enthusiasm? That's not a reason to celebrate, people. That's a serious dental issue. But because there's a loveable fairy involved, suddenly having unsightly gaps in your mouth is something to cheer about!
Despite all this, there are some holidays and events that we celebrate without giving proper recognition to the hardworking spokesmen, spokeswomen, and spokesothers who make them all possible. Luckily, in addition to being Something Awful's Official Sunday Guy and movie reviewer, president and founder of ELEAWTA, speaker of the Pornographers Union, cybernetic assassin for the ruling government of Zimbabwe, professional journalism clone, political satirist, award winning playwright, dean of the Greasnin Institute of Higher Learning, and team chef, I am also the chair of the Holiday Representatives' Advocacy Council, or HRAC. What can I say? I like to stay busy. Thus it is both my duty and my privilege to introduce you to a few colorful individuals who have been working for far too long without getting the glory and adulation they deserve. I hope that once you've read about them, you'll grow to love them as much as I do, which is somewhat.
Sure, he's dangerous, but look at his festive hat!
Kragg-Uru, The Birthday Troll
Time marches on day after day, week after week, month after month. And when those months add up to another year, you get to have a party entirely in your own honor. And dammit, you expect presents. But just because those presents aren't piled under some big tree, you think that your birthday just happens. Well, it doesn't. Since the dawn of time, each person's passage from one year to the next has been solely in the hands of Kragg-Uru, the birthday troll. If not for his ceaseless efforts, time would be meaningless. A year could come and go, but if Kragg-Uru wasn't there to do his job, age would have no effect on you. Naturally, his is a thankless task, as no one wants to grow older and older every year. But dammit, the birthday troll provides a necessary service. Without him, the laws of nature would be thrown completely out of balance. Kragg-Uru knows you don't like getting older and crotchety, so he tries to make it easier on you by making sure you get presents. And what does mankind do for him in exchange? How about hate and fear him? Oh that's right, there was a time in human history when Kragg-Uru's name was well known, but the simple-minded, ignorant, and violent people of those times made him into a villain just because he did what needed to be done. It didn't help that he was a fucking troll, either. Ignorant peasants have never taken kindly to trolls. Not even birthday trolls.Look, just let the guy repent with you. He's been through enough.
Shecky, the Yom Kippur Child Molester
In the Jewish faith, there is a ten day period following Rosh Hashanah when the Jews are supposed to atone for their various sins throughout the year. Those ten days are meant for the small stuff - the minor offenses against friends, family, neighbors, and the myriad other passersby who flit in an out of our lives. The last day is Yom Kippur, the holiest day on the Jewish calendar. On that day, Jews atone for their sins against God almighty. That takes so much time out of their day that they don't even break to eat. One day of atonement, and bang, you're back in God's good graces for a new year. Not a bad deal, but it is a highly serious matter. You can fake your apology to your neighbor for "accidentally" denting his new BMW, but you can't fake your apology to God. He sees through your bullshit. It comes with being God. The infinite power to create all existence as we know it, plus he can see through your bullshit. That's why when it came time to choose a spokesman for Yom Kippur, the job went to Shecky the child molester. You see, Shecky is a devout Jew, and he wants to be favored in the eyes of the Lord, but that damn Rosenbaum kid keeps walking by his house in his shorts with that tight little eight year old butt, and, well... you know how it is. Shecky wants to stop. He's really sorry. It's just that he has a problem. These days when people hear the terms "child molestation" and "religion" together, they immediately think of Catholicism, but Shecky wants you to know that he's there for all you Jews, and he's really, really sorry. Really.Damn, those are hairy feet. Your problems are nothing compared to this guy.
Vippy, the First Pube Hobbit
Puberty can be a tough time for a young person. With all those hormones rushing around and all of those nutty emotions playing with your head, life is tough enough without throwing some awkward and often embarrassing physical changes, too. Sure, kids are learning all about puberty in sex ed these days, but there's still a big difference between what you hear people talking about in an informational video and what actually happens to you. That's why there's Vippy, the first pube hobbit! Vippy's got a great attitude toward life. He's always happy! He's happy that he's short. He's happy that he's fat. He happy that he knows the best soil for growing turnips. And most of all, he's happy that you're becoming a young man or young woman. When those first curly little hairs start coming in, you know you're not about to go running to your parents to talk. But you don't have to be embarrassed about your pubes in front of Vippy! Like he always says, "At least you've got 'em in a place where you can cover 'em up! Try having them all over your gigantic hobbit feet!" Oh that Vippy, always guaranteed to raise a smile. After all, when it comes to those few years between childhood and adulthood, no one knows more about what that's like that a freaky halfling!Okay, you try finding a good picture for Omar, the Crazed Turk of Arbor Day.
Omar, the Crazed Turk of Arbor Day
Okay, when they were handing out the sponsorship deals, this one got a little crossed in the mail. No one knows why Omar Ab-Farheed, the bloodstained purger of the Christian hordes from the sacred lands of Allah, was chosen to represent the goodwill and joy of Arbor Day, but no one can deny that he does his job with boundless enthusiasm. Truth be told, Omar always seems a little confused each year when Arbor Day rolls around and people look to him for direction. Some would say that he actually has no idea what he's supposed to be doing. A couple witnesses claim that they actually saw him planting a tree once, but it turned out that he was just burying the head of an infidel. One thing is certain, though. On Arbor Day, when all eyes are on Omar, he eventually springs into action. Whether it's his way of encouraging people to reforest the globe, or just his way of getting people to stop staring at him, Omar can always be counted on to raise his scimitar high into the air and shout out the cry that rallies tree-lovers everywhere: "Lilililililililililili!" Omar, you may not speak English, you may not bathe, and you may kill a few dozen people each year, but in our eyes, you'll always be Ottomantastic!See, Larry's a good guy. Let him be your Boxing Day.
Larry, the Guy Vaguely Associated with Boxing Day
To be perfectly honest, Boxing Day still doesn't have a set representative. We're working on the problem, but in the meantime, we're sort of nudging Larry into just taking the damn gig. Why did we choose Larry to stand for everything good and right about Boxing Day? Who the hell cares? It's Boxing Day. Let's face it, you're not even entirely sure what Boxing Day really is. Last year you sent a card to Evander Holyfield. Besides, you don't know Larry. For all you know, he could be very passionate about Boxing Day. If we say he is, who are you to argue, huh? Look, you've spent at most 0.0000001 percent of your life thinking about Boxing Day. Next time it happens to pop into your head, just be a pal and think of Larry, okay? If you've really got an issue with that, you're just going to have to drop it.
And there you have it! Five new names and faces who just want to be a little part of your life. They work hard for you, and all they want is a tiny bit of credit. That's not so much to ask for, is it? Of course it isn't. We at HRAC have reasonable expectations. We don't want to cram too much down your throats at once. Let's get these guys into the mainstream, then we'll worry about getting Melnoc, the Secretaries Day Hobgoblin some public acceptance.
Finding the right hat can feel like walking through a minefield for guys. Did a murderer wear your hat? Was it ruined by bros? Are you just an idiot? Find out with our authoritative ranking of bad hats.
The Amazonians value combat prowess and purity of spirit. By wrestling half naked, they pay homage to both virtues by displaying their battle-forged bodies while preserving as much modesty as their society deems necessary. The gelatin in which they wrestle is symbolic of the fluid nature of battle, a concept the Amazonians call ‘akgor-gra.’
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