Sunday, October 31, 2004

iola showdown

Oh wow. I need a haircut like Bush needs Florida. Billy Ray Cyrus sent me a muffin basket thanking me for my efforts to advance the cause of the mullet. I was going to try and hold out on a haircut until directly prior to my upcoming visit to California, but I think I might get written up by the city before then. Speaking of getting written up by the city...

I would like to officially declare D-Lew and myself as the winners of our prank war with TheGirls. ChrisA and DoubleB put forth a valiant effort, but in the end, they were no match for the "the prank that keeps on pranking". About what opus of pranktology doth I speak? None other than locking their back gate.

ChrisA and DoubleB are typical females, and therefore, do not ever concern themselves with anything besides make-up, Weight Watchers food points, and My Little Pony. So of course, upon moving into their house back in August, it never occured to them to lock their back gate. It did occur to D-Lew and me, so we took care of this for them.

Some of you may be thinking that donating a gate lock might seem like a pretty lame prank, and I would concede that it is, until you consider that we didn't go to the trouble of donating the key. In case that still seems lame, let me lay out the implications of this prank of Old Testament proportions.

First of all, they couldn't take out their trash. They live on the center of their block, and couldn't ever manage to break themselves away from putting make-up on their My Little Ponies long enough to walk the trash a few hundred yards around to the alley. So the trash piled up in the garage, and of course after 3 or 4 weeks, began to smell rather unpleasant. At which point it was moved to the backyard, at which point, their own personal landfill was invaded by cats and spread all over their backyard.

And a couple of days ago, they got a letter in the mail from the city of L-town, writing them up for having weed overgrowth in their yard. Apparently, cleaning up those summer weeds in the alley presents quite a challenge when one is locked out of said alley for a month and a half.

This presents an interesting challenge of interpretation of prank war code. Everyone knows that one of the most crucial rules of conduct for a prank war is that the first team to call the authorities loses. But what about when a prank causes the opposing team to get the authorities called on themselves? I think I could present a very strong case that according to this timeless rule, TheGirls lose the prank war.

In all honesty, there is no way they could have ever won. Since I've been loving the "5ives" format so much, here are

Five reasons why TheGirls could never have beaten D-Lew and me in a prank war:

1. We are far more well-subsidized, being completely funded by Saudi oil money.
2. We are smarter: D-Lew has a doctoral degree in Astrophysics, and my Homestar-quoting abilities are a testament to my omnipotence. No probalo.
3. We are better looking: They had no hope of besting the sultry aliance of Richard Gere and Billy Ray Cyrus.
4. Guys will always go too far. In the two prank wars in which I have been involved prior to this, one got my dawgs and I written up in the police blotter, and the other incited an emergency meeting of Church of Christ elders. And got an intern fired. That's not a record ya wanna step to. We got priors.
5. ChrisA thought she couldn't watch a widescreen DVD because she didn't have a widescreen TV. I'm not sure what that has to do with the prank war, but since she thinks she's so clever for finding my blog, I just wanted to bless her with the gift of humility.

In other news, I never thought I would say this, but I'm sick of talking about politics. I'm ready for Tuesday to come and go. Not that I honestly think there won't be some kind of legal controversy, which I truly expect there to be, but I'm really getting worn out.

I think the straw that broke this donkey's back was Saturday afternoon at Sugar Brown's, where I pretty much made a scene while trying to explain to Suse why I don't think W is fit to sort my laundry, much less run the country. In case you were wondering why the Democratic mascot is an ass, it's because of me. Well, me and Andrew Jackson in 1824, but that's neither here nor there.