Story by Uncle Lars Bob
In an unprecedented action, Chisago County’s, North County Association of Taverns pleaded their case for assistance directly to a Joint Session of Minnesota’s State Legislature.
While offering no direct response to the Tavern Owners adversely affected by Robinson’s newfound sobriety, Lawmakers did pass emergency Legislation extending unemployment benefits to those laid off from Leinenkugel’s North County Brewery and Pipeline Company.
A Leinenkugel’s spokesperson, commenting on condition of anonymity, states, “We hold no ill will toward Commissioner (Lynn) Shultz.” It is widely believed that Schultz is the instigator of this calamity which has befallen North County.
The Leinenkugel’s spokesperson continued, stating “Our North County Brewery and Beer Pipeline was a model of efficiency. Our pipeline ran directly to all the major North County Pubs.
It was powered by solar and wind generated electricity. We handled all of Mike’s (Commissioner Robinson's) beer needs with virtually no carbon footprint.
Hell, Mike drank directly from the tap. We never even wasted energy washing a beer mug.”
Later in the day, Presidential Hopeful, John McCain spoke at a meeting of Brewery and Bartenders Local 101 in Rush City.
As usual, McCain pulled no punches while addressing the 800 unemployed workers of the union.
“Your jobs may not come back, finding another drunk of Robinson’s stature will not be easy. It may take four or five to drunks to replace Mike.”
McCain has introduced legislation aimed at retraining many of the union’s members for future employment beyond the beer industry.
Hillary and Obama are scheduled to address the displaced union workers next week.
In a spectacular show of bipartisan support for the residents of North County, Senator Coleman and Representative Oberstar are lobbying President Bush to declare North County a disaster area.
We now turn to business news.
Archer Daniels Midland, the largest ethanol producer in America has purchased Leinenkugel’s inventory of hops and barley related to the shutdown its North County Brewery and Pipeline.
Spot prices for oil plunged to levels not seen since the 70’s. Prices rebounded, however, when OPEC announced drastic production cuts designed to offset the glut of ethanol expected to hit the market as a result of the closing of North County’s Brewery.
Stock Markets generally trended downward today. McDonald’s and Burger King stock regained lost ground, however when Commissioner Robinson denied he was about to go on a diet.
Publishers Note: It has been a long-standing practice to poke fun at our cultural icons, symbols, public figures and celebrities. A parody exists when one imitates a serious piece of work, such as literature, music or artwork, for a humorous or satirical effect.
Parody, as a method of criticism, has been a very popular means for authors, entertainers and advertisers to communicate a particular message or point of view to the public.
The story above is not true. It is a parody of a news story.
It is not a real news story, which should be obvious from the content. When a story, as the one above is so obviously untrue when read by intelligent people, no disclaimer is required.
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
Sunday, April 13, 2008
Glassel Calls for Voter Mandated Term Limits for all Elected County Officials
Glassel Launches Bid for County Commissioner
Uncle Lars Bob sez, “ My Nephew, the one what writes this newspaper, is the clear choice to replace Gustafson as Chisago County District III Commissioner.”
As a general rule, politicians in local elections rarely discuss issues. A local politician, confronted with issues will rarely take a solid stand on the most mundane of topics, not wanting to tip his hand on the political deal making to come after the elections.
Local elections are really just “beauty contests” with the candidates promising you everything and anything to get elected. Glassel is different. Glassel promises to make the local issues as transparent as possible, allowing voters to make intelligent decisions on the issues affecting the good people of Chisago County.
Following are just of the few of the issues Glassel will be discussing in the upcoming campaign.
Voter Mandated Term Limits for all Elected County Officials
A New Jail for Sheriff Rivard?
Creation of Local Jobs and Sustainable Communities
The Highway 8 Corridor through Lindstrom
SoftballGate
Global Warming
MastersGate
Direct Democracy, Can your Politician be replaced with a computer?
County Landfill Problems
Corruption and Cronyism in County Government
Chisago County Taxes Triple in Ten years
Enough is enough!
Glassel will not vote to raise County Taxes, ever!
Uncle Lars Bob sez, “ My Nephew, the one what writes this newspaper, is the clear choice to replace Gustafson as Chisago County District III Commissioner.”
As a general rule, politicians in local elections rarely discuss issues. A local politician, confronted with issues will rarely take a solid stand on the most mundane of topics, not wanting to tip his hand on the political deal making to come after the elections.
Local elections are really just “beauty contests” with the candidates promising you everything and anything to get elected. Glassel is different. Glassel promises to make the local issues as transparent as possible, allowing voters to make intelligent decisions on the issues affecting the good people of Chisago County.
Following are just of the few of the issues Glassel will be discussing in the upcoming campaign.
Voter Mandated Term Limits for all Elected County Officials
A New Jail for Sheriff Rivard?
Creation of Local Jobs and Sustainable Communities
The Highway 8 Corridor through Lindstrom
SoftballGate
Global Warming
MastersGate
Direct Democracy, Can your Politician be replaced with a computer?
County Landfill Problems
Corruption and Cronyism in County Government
Chisago County Taxes Triple in Ten years
Enough is enough!
Glassel will not vote to raise County Taxes, ever!
Lone Recycler--Episode Fourteen
In his youth, King Gustaf was the sole human survivor of a shipwreck and is marooned on a desert island with a pig and a bull mastiff.
A year passes and the King's sexual urges begin to get the better of him, and to his horror he finds himself becoming more attracted to the pig. However, his various attempts at a romantic liaison with the pig are thwarted by the mastiff, which begins to growl menacingly whenever he tries to approach the pig.
On numerous occasions the King finds the pig alone and the moment he begins to undress, the mastiff always appears to spoil his fun.
Two days later a ship sails by and the King lights a signal fire, but to his dismay the ship exploded into flames and sank to the bottom of the sea.
One hour later the King spots a young lady desperately trying to reach the shore and notices a fin approaching behind her. He wades into the water, beats off the shark with a piece of driftwood and drags the woman to safety.
"Thank you," she wails, "you've saved my life. If there is anything I can do for you, anything at all to repay you, I will gladly do it"
He looked earnestly at the woman as a sliver of salt water trickled slowly down her cleavage and said,
"Actually, there is one thing that you could do for me."
The woman looked at him intently, lowered her voice and said, "Anything, anything"
"Right," said the King, "can you take this idiot dog for a walk?
A year passes and the King's sexual urges begin to get the better of him, and to his horror he finds himself becoming more attracted to the pig. However, his various attempts at a romantic liaison with the pig are thwarted by the mastiff, which begins to growl menacingly whenever he tries to approach the pig.
On numerous occasions the King finds the pig alone and the moment he begins to undress, the mastiff always appears to spoil his fun.
Two days later a ship sails by and the King lights a signal fire, but to his dismay the ship exploded into flames and sank to the bottom of the sea.
One hour later the King spots a young lady desperately trying to reach the shore and notices a fin approaching behind her. He wades into the water, beats off the shark with a piece of driftwood and drags the woman to safety.
"Thank you," she wails, "you've saved my life. If there is anything I can do for you, anything at all to repay you, I will gladly do it"
He looked earnestly at the woman as a sliver of salt water trickled slowly down her cleavage and said,
"Actually, there is one thing that you could do for me."
The woman looked at him intently, lowered her voice and said, "Anything, anything"
"Right," said the King, "can you take this idiot dog for a walk?
Lone Recycler--Episode Thirteen
And it came to pass, MOAT (Mother of all Things) did causeth the Duke of Rum to be inflicted with a DWCI (Driving Chariot While Intoxicated). In those days, this was a grave offense, even more grave due to the Duke’s position of great power as servant of the King.
And the King did seek to hideth the Duke’s crime from the peasants (taxpayers). And the Duke was summoned before Rudge Roody in a secret hearing. And Rudge Roody forbade the Duke from driving his own chariot for three weeks.
The Duke of Rum and his driver were cruising along a country road one night after leaving the tavern when all of a sudden they hit a pig, killing it instantly. The Duke told his driver to go up to the farm house and explain to the owners what had happened.About 1 hour later the Duke sees his driver staggering back to the car with a bottle of wine in one hand, a cigar in the other and his clothes all ripped and torn with lipstick smooches all over his face."What happened to you", asked the Duke.
Well, the Farmer gave me the wine, his wife gave me the Cigar and his gorgeous 21 year old daughter ripped my clothes off and kissed me all over my body.
"My God, what did you tell them", asks the Duke of Rum.The driver replies, "I'm the Duke’s driver, and I just killed the pig out on the road"
And the King did seek to hideth the Duke’s crime from the peasants (taxpayers). And the Duke was summoned before Rudge Roody in a secret hearing. And Rudge Roody forbade the Duke from driving his own chariot for three weeks.
The Duke of Rum and his driver were cruising along a country road one night after leaving the tavern when all of a sudden they hit a pig, killing it instantly. The Duke told his driver to go up to the farm house and explain to the owners what had happened.About 1 hour later the Duke sees his driver staggering back to the car with a bottle of wine in one hand, a cigar in the other and his clothes all ripped and torn with lipstick smooches all over his face."What happened to you", asked the Duke.
Well, the Farmer gave me the wine, his wife gave me the Cigar and his gorgeous 21 year old daughter ripped my clothes off and kissed me all over my body.
"My God, what did you tell them", asks the Duke of Rum.The driver replies, "I'm the Duke’s driver, and I just killed the pig out on the road"
Saturday, April 12, 2008
Lone Recycler Episode Twelve--Horny Old Broads
The Lone Recycler
Who was that Masked Junkman?
Who was that Masked Junkman?
The days were dark in South County. The writers strike had left the comics out of work. But just when South County thought it would never laugh again, a hero arose to recycle those old jokes and puns. Yes, with 10,000 comedians out of work, Uncle Lars Bob was trying to be funny.
Written by Uncle Lars Bob
Return with us to those thrilling days of yesteryear, to a galaxy far, far away, to the Mythical Planet of Heaven revolving around a star in the remote, outer reaches of the Galaxy of Almond Joy.
It’s story time, boys and girls, but remember, this is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to our ruling elite or the politically connected is purely coincidental.
In those days, on the mythical planet of Heaven, in the fictional Galaxy of Almond Joy, many women, when her nest becometh empty, after the stress of raising her children had passed, small bony knobs would appear on her head which were known as horns. It was said these women were of the HOB (Horny Old Broads).
A man, when his nest becometh empty after the stress of raising his children had passed, small bony knobs would appear on his head. It was said these men were of the HOJ (Horny Old Jents).
But remember, boy and girls, Horny Old Broads existeth only in Heaven. Checketh not the head of thy Grandmother for lumps.
Now, the HOJ (Horny Old Jents) groweth hair not on the tops of their heads. But hair did groweth with great profusity from their eyebrows, nostrils and ears.
On both days of summer, the HOJ (Horny Old Jents) would tie their hair into a pony tail and braid their eyebrow, nose and ear hair together to form a helmet to protect their bald heads from the harmful UV rays emitted by the sun.
The Hob and the Hoj would dust off their Hogs, motorcycles built by Messrs. Darley and Havidson. The Hob and The Hoj would ride past the Darley Healer, across the Valley of Croix and into the Land of Favre.
Now, many motorcycles were faster and smoother than the Hogs, but the Hob (Horny Old Broads) found the vibration of the Hog to be quite pleasurable, indeed.
In those days, the spouses did celebrate their wedded bliss with the Rites of Marital Poon Tang (Romp). And the spouses did Rompeth in the wood and did Rompeth in the meadow and did Rompeth under the stars in the Land of Favre, as in days of old.
The wife of our hero, empty though her nest be, was not of the HOB. And every year, upon the anniversary of her birth, with great anticipation the Recycler would checketh his spouse’s head for lumps.
Finding no knobs upon her head, his wife did seek to console our hero and sayeth unto him, “Perhaps I will be horny next year.”
Soon after Evil King Gustaf replaced Texas Ranger with a Patsy, the Patsy of Charles, the Patsy became heavy with horn. This old broad was really horny.
These changes did not go unnoticed by the Duke of Rum, and he too, became heavy with horn and spake unto the Patsy, “Thou hath nice shoes, wouldest though like to hump?”
Now, the Patsy and the Duke were married, but not to each other. As such, the lovers could not participate in the Rites of Marital Poon Tang and instead, were said to POP (Partake of Poon Tang).
And the Patsy mounted the Hog, and together with the Duke of Rum, rode past the Darley Healer, across the Valley of Croix and into the Land of Favre. And the Duke poppeth with the Patsy. And they did poppeth in the wood and did poppeth in the meadow and did poppeth under the stars as in days of old.
And the Patsy and the Duke conspired to overthrow the Evil King Gustaf and become King and Queen of South County. And the Duke sayeth unto the Patsy, "Together we will rule South County. Together, we will screweth the peasants (taxpayers) in ways King Gustaf could never imagine. Today South County, tomorrow the world."
But the Patsy and the Duke, did pisseth off the library ladies. And the library ladies spied upon the Patsy and the Duke and took photographs.
And the Patsy and the Duke were sore afraid.
Written by Uncle Lars Bob
Return with us to those thrilling days of yesteryear, to a galaxy far, far away, to the Mythical Planet of Heaven revolving around a star in the remote, outer reaches of the Galaxy of Almond Joy.
It’s story time, boys and girls, but remember, this is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to our ruling elite or the politically connected is purely coincidental.
In those days, on the mythical planet of Heaven, in the fictional Galaxy of Almond Joy, many women, when her nest becometh empty, after the stress of raising her children had passed, small bony knobs would appear on her head which were known as horns. It was said these women were of the HOB (Horny Old Broads).
A man, when his nest becometh empty after the stress of raising his children had passed, small bony knobs would appear on his head. It was said these men were of the HOJ (Horny Old Jents).
But remember, boy and girls, Horny Old Broads existeth only in Heaven. Checketh not the head of thy Grandmother for lumps.
Now, the HOJ (Horny Old Jents) groweth hair not on the tops of their heads. But hair did groweth with great profusity from their eyebrows, nostrils and ears.
On both days of summer, the HOJ (Horny Old Jents) would tie their hair into a pony tail and braid their eyebrow, nose and ear hair together to form a helmet to protect their bald heads from the harmful UV rays emitted by the sun.
The Hob and the Hoj would dust off their Hogs, motorcycles built by Messrs. Darley and Havidson. The Hob and The Hoj would ride past the Darley Healer, across the Valley of Croix and into the Land of Favre.
Now, many motorcycles were faster and smoother than the Hogs, but the Hob (Horny Old Broads) found the vibration of the Hog to be quite pleasurable, indeed.
In those days, the spouses did celebrate their wedded bliss with the Rites of Marital Poon Tang (Romp). And the spouses did Rompeth in the wood and did Rompeth in the meadow and did Rompeth under the stars in the Land of Favre, as in days of old.
The wife of our hero, empty though her nest be, was not of the HOB. And every year, upon the anniversary of her birth, with great anticipation the Recycler would checketh his spouse’s head for lumps.
Finding no knobs upon her head, his wife did seek to console our hero and sayeth unto him, “Perhaps I will be horny next year.”
Soon after Evil King Gustaf replaced Texas Ranger with a Patsy, the Patsy of Charles, the Patsy became heavy with horn. This old broad was really horny.
These changes did not go unnoticed by the Duke of Rum, and he too, became heavy with horn and spake unto the Patsy, “Thou hath nice shoes, wouldest though like to hump?”
Now, the Patsy and the Duke were married, but not to each other. As such, the lovers could not participate in the Rites of Marital Poon Tang and instead, were said to POP (Partake of Poon Tang).
And the Patsy mounted the Hog, and together with the Duke of Rum, rode past the Darley Healer, across the Valley of Croix and into the Land of Favre. And the Duke poppeth with the Patsy. And they did poppeth in the wood and did poppeth in the meadow and did poppeth under the stars as in days of old.
And the Patsy and the Duke conspired to overthrow the Evil King Gustaf and become King and Queen of South County. And the Duke sayeth unto the Patsy, "Together we will rule South County. Together, we will screweth the peasants (taxpayers) in ways King Gustaf could never imagine. Today South County, tomorrow the world."
But the Patsy and the Duke, did pisseth off the library ladies. And the library ladies spied upon the Patsy and the Duke and took photographs.
And the Patsy and the Duke were sore afraid.
Thursday, April 10, 2008
Jury Still Out on Reiter, Second in a Series
Justice by the Numbers
Opinion and Commentary by Jonathan P. Glassel
Opinion and Commentary by Jonathan P. Glassel
Life or Meth Choices of the Young
"The first hit is always free, after that you pay with your life!"
An Open Letter to the Children, Teenagers and Young Adults of Chisago County
Seeing a Meth Head at a scrap yard is not unusual.
His face was gaunt and drawn, his malnourished body was a nauseating spectacle more reminiscent of a survivor of a Nazi Concentration Camp than a resident of this century.
This particular junkie was more fortunate than most, I supposed. He had a truck. A beat up old Ford used to haul his junk to market, earning enough money to support his $200 to $300 a day Meth addiction.
Today, he had a flat tire. His spare was the baldest of his five tires, but the Meth Head flashed a toothless smile at the Meth Head standing next to him and set about to change his tire, already knowing the windfall from the sale of today’s junk would buy more Meth, rather than repairing his old truck. Tomorrow, no doubt he would buy another used tire for five bucks, which would last another week or two.
Even from across the parking lot, I can see the lesions on his face and hands. Dark, puss filled sores caused by his unceasing attempts to remove the nonexistent Meth Bugs from his body.
His life has been reduced to a singular task. Feeding his undying need for an unnatural high.
Meth is the most addictive substance ever created by man. This man has been addicted from his first hit. The first hit is always free, after that you pay with your life.
Your body produces dopamine as a natural self reward. Dopamine provides that natural high felt after winning the big race, scoring that winning basket or hitting a home run. Sex is probably the most common occurring factor of dopamine release.
Meth creates an artificial dopamine release that cannot be recreated naturally. The high created from meth is short lasting, requiring more meth be ingested. Before long, natural dopamine release can no longer be achieved as meth has “burned out” the body’s natural dopamine production units.
I observe this Meth Head some more. I originally pegged him as 45 years old or so. His actions and movements, however reveal a young man of less than 30 years of age.
When did this young man give up his life for meth? Very possibly in High School, I suppose. And I wonder, could this be the fate of my grandchildren? In a short twenty years could my grandchildren, your children or you be changing a tire on a old, beat up Ford truck at a scrap yard in St. Paul, looking for your next fix.
Recovery from meth is difficult, to say the least. The success rate is only about 10%. Chances are, the junkie I am observing would sober and relapse 8 to 10 times before freeing himself from this crap.
And what is left after meth? The walking dead, a zombie unable to feel emotion, unable to experience a natural high, ever.
We all feel the lows in life from time to time. Without them, the natural highs would feel less high. But can you imagine a life of nothing, no highs or lows? This is the life of a “recovered” meth head.
The joy of sex which results from a loving long term monogamous relationship awaiting our young people is of indescribable pleasure, the incomparable natural high of life. The birth of children, their miraculous first steps are natural highs, never experienced by the meth addict.
Someday, a classmate, a friend or a complete stranger will offer you meth. I hope you will choose life over meth.
The world needs you, thanks for reading, Jon
An Open Letter to the Children, Teenagers and Young Adults of Chisago County
Seeing a Meth Head at a scrap yard is not unusual.
His face was gaunt and drawn, his malnourished body was a nauseating spectacle more reminiscent of a survivor of a Nazi Concentration Camp than a resident of this century.
This particular junkie was more fortunate than most, I supposed. He had a truck. A beat up old Ford used to haul his junk to market, earning enough money to support his $200 to $300 a day Meth addiction.
Today, he had a flat tire. His spare was the baldest of his five tires, but the Meth Head flashed a toothless smile at the Meth Head standing next to him and set about to change his tire, already knowing the windfall from the sale of today’s junk would buy more Meth, rather than repairing his old truck. Tomorrow, no doubt he would buy another used tire for five bucks, which would last another week or two.
Even from across the parking lot, I can see the lesions on his face and hands. Dark, puss filled sores caused by his unceasing attempts to remove the nonexistent Meth Bugs from his body.
His life has been reduced to a singular task. Feeding his undying need for an unnatural high.
Meth is the most addictive substance ever created by man. This man has been addicted from his first hit. The first hit is always free, after that you pay with your life.
Your body produces dopamine as a natural self reward. Dopamine provides that natural high felt after winning the big race, scoring that winning basket or hitting a home run. Sex is probably the most common occurring factor of dopamine release.
Meth creates an artificial dopamine release that cannot be recreated naturally. The high created from meth is short lasting, requiring more meth be ingested. Before long, natural dopamine release can no longer be achieved as meth has “burned out” the body’s natural dopamine production units.
I observe this Meth Head some more. I originally pegged him as 45 years old or so. His actions and movements, however reveal a young man of less than 30 years of age.
When did this young man give up his life for meth? Very possibly in High School, I suppose. And I wonder, could this be the fate of my grandchildren? In a short twenty years could my grandchildren, your children or you be changing a tire on a old, beat up Ford truck at a scrap yard in St. Paul, looking for your next fix.
Recovery from meth is difficult, to say the least. The success rate is only about 10%. Chances are, the junkie I am observing would sober and relapse 8 to 10 times before freeing himself from this crap.
And what is left after meth? The walking dead, a zombie unable to feel emotion, unable to experience a natural high, ever.
We all feel the lows in life from time to time. Without them, the natural highs would feel less high. But can you imagine a life of nothing, no highs or lows? This is the life of a “recovered” meth head.
The joy of sex which results from a loving long term monogamous relationship awaiting our young people is of indescribable pleasure, the incomparable natural high of life. The birth of children, their miraculous first steps are natural highs, never experienced by the meth addict.
Someday, a classmate, a friend or a complete stranger will offer you meth. I hope you will choose life over meth.
The world needs you, thanks for reading, Jon
Thursday, April 3, 2008
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