The Zogger

Am I less of an American for not watching the Olympics?  I want to watch, I want to support our nation’s athletes, I think they work too hard to not be recognized for screwing up regularly scheduled programming.  For god sakes, we proactively live right next store to Champaign’s own Bonnie Blair.  You see,   Blair was raised in Champaign, Illinois. After graduation from Centennial High School in Champaign, she moved to the Milwaukee area to train with the United States national speed skating team.  Now, with dedication like that, it makes me feel like such an ass-hole for watching Seinfeld reruns, instead of seeing the images such as; Tenley Albright, who won a gold and silver medal for the US in 1952 and 56’ as one of the worlds premier figure skaters.  Nicknamed the ‘Silver Slasher’ (by me), she would glide across the ice like melt water down a softening ice-cycle on an unusually warm winters day.  Or even, Edwin Moses, the winner of 2 Olympic golds and 1 bronze in 78’, 84’, and 88’.  With his rain of 122 hurdle victories in a row, Edwin Mosses quickly earned himself the name ‘The Black Bellhop” (again by me), for his resilience and undaunted determination in serving his country.  Lets be serious, how many times in your lifetime do you get to see a Martin Sheridan, the winner of 2 gold medals and 2 silver medals during the 1906 and 1908 Olympics in the famed “Tug of War” event.  Martin ‘Tug my Sheridan’ Sheridan spent years and years honing his craft of pulling on a rope so that we, the enjoyer of sport, may bask in the fruits of its labor.  Thanks to Sheridan, America, during the early 1900’s, was widely known as the Olympic team that would “pull” away from the competition, thanks Martin Sheridan.  So, after all the hard work these patriots do for their country, why is it I can’t bring myself to watch?  Are we not form the same area as Olympic great Tonja Buford-Bailey, of the womens track and team, who sadly never won any medals but dam it, she tried.  She had the will, to go out everyday after day and fail, and fail, and fail, and fail until one day,  she realized hey, “I really should have been working on an actual career all those years I was practicing throwing the javelin”, but you know what?  At least she tried, it’s almost as if I refuse to even try to watch the Olympic games.  What is wrong with me?  Do I subconsciously hate America and all her team efforts?  I sure haven’t seen any effort on behalf of any sort of Olympic Committee trying to sway me to watch, with any advertising what so ever, it’s almost like they don’t want me to watch because they know of all my years of Olympic neglect. Oh, so now I’m not good enough to watch your stupid Olympics?  All of a sudden I’m not American enough?  Well I’ll tell you one thing Bob Costas, you slick son of a bitch, I’m watching the Olympics and there’s nothing you or Tom Brady can do about so….. GO USA, lets play two.

The weather’s getting hot, college students returning home, tornados just missing, and all the damn bugs.  That’s right Pawnee Prairie Days is approaching!  For some, this is something that has been simply outgrown over the years.  To those some that have made this assumption, what the fuck is wrong with you?  Maybe you’ve got the wrong mindset going in.  If you venture into this thinking you’re going to have a great time, you’ve already lost.  You’ve got to go in with that voice in your head stating, “Why the hell am I going to Prairie Days?”  Everyone should be hearing this voice, unless you’re an eight year old or Robbie Robison, who yearns to handle countless hot dogs ever so gently at the Boy Scout food tent, hoping to make his millionth sale and that the hot dogs will turn into dicks for his own private pleasure.  We know he’ll give a hundred and ten percent.  The answer to the question voiced in your head will be configured as
the night progresses and the booze loosens up the crowd.  You can literally stand in one spot, look in every direction, and laugh your ass off at the amount of hilarious atrocities going on all around you.
Now that Darin Schultz lives in Denver, CO, the amount of drunken pedophilic activity has decreased 60%, but the other 40% is still looming in the eyes of some, such as Matt Glenn, who’s seemingly never ending passion for riding around the streets of P-town is dormant only during Prairie Days weekend.  As history has told, it will rain on one of the three days, which is the length of Prairie Days, which will force you into one of two choices.  One, go home and end the journey, try to resist, or the two, venture into “The Dirty”.  This nickname for the My Way Pub is quickly confirmed.  A bar built to house fifty patrons semi comfortably is crammed with over a hundred, filling the air with the aroma of a mix between a Mike Sandage dingle berry and nut sack.  Yes, this will certainly be uncomfortable at first, but worth it for the comedy relieve waiting to be performed.  Out of the hundred plus in the bar, 40% or better are blatantly underage.
It’s not even a question for some.  Last year, I saw an eight year old perched on a bar stool like he’d been there for years.  He even bought me a shot with what “milk money” he had left, or White Russian money is more like it.  I asked him after the Three Wisemen shot was but an aftertaste what year he was in school, 2nd grade, and what his best subject was, “Not shitting my pants!”  he screamed enthusiastically.  Impressively awesome.  The underage hijinks is just one of many forms of entertainment in The Dirty.
Have you ever witnessed anyone with “Cool” in front of their name get tossed out of a bar.  It surprisingly doesn’t happen as often as it should, but this is in the official record books of shit that will happen at The Dirty.  Prairie Days attracts visitors from around the globe, well, a twenty mile radius anyway.  90% of these “outsiders” will be thrown out of the bar, mostly due to their own stupidity.  This is the category that “Cool” Brandon was in.  Here’s a tip, if you don’t want to get fucked with in The Dirty, know someone that frequents there.  However, there is one exception to this rule.  If the one person you know is Farooq, DON”T GO INTO THE BAR!  Knowing Farooq is a social bullseye for getting fucked with.  This was confirmed while this Brandon character was actually airborne and Farooq in the background screaming, “No, this is ‘Cool’ Brandon,” saying the word cool louder so that everyone would know he’s ok and not to throw him out.  Well, Farooq saying the word ‘cool’ pretty much just fuels everyone else’s need to to throw this guy out faster and harder, as this ups the chance that Farooq will go with him, stopping the bumming money off everyone and the breaking of shit that constantly plaques the Arabian Knight.  Don’t get me wrong, Farooq’s one of my best friends, but let’s be honest here.  Tell me I’m wrong!  The Dirty also doubles as a base of operations for terrorizing carnies, led by one man whose hatred for carnies runs deep, Mike Salisbury.  On any of the three nights of Prairie Days, you must pass Mike screaming at these carnies in order to get into the bar.  He hates them so much and it’s damn funny to witness.
We could talk about the antics that occur in The Dirty for days, but there are other areas of hilarity that need to be addressed.  A main attraction of comedy is defiantly the monstrosity that is the musical performances.  I could sum it up in one statement:  Ray Lytle for four years in a row! I could stop there and that would five you an idea of the “talent” that Prairie Days features for their musical entertainment, but I won’t, and I shouldn’t!  Ray Lytle!?! I laughed for days after the shock wore off when I heard someone say, “Alright!  Ray Lytle’s gonna be at Prairie Day’s. “This person obviously was a douche.  Ray Lytle and his Itchy Pickles are a travesty of musical justice for entertainment.  Now I know I don’t have to go and witness their shitty renditions of once great songs, but on the contrary my friend.  I wouldn’t miss it!  Watching this disgustingly obese grown man act like he’s a legend of rock in ninety degree weather is revolting, sad, and shit your pants funny.  Sad is defiantly the head lining word to describe a Ray Lytle show.  Very sad indeed.  Aside from Ray Lytle, numerous 80’s hair bands have come and gone.  There have been so many fifty-year-old men rockin out in black leather vests and puffy pirate shirts that I’ve lost count.  All of them take it so seriously that it makes it hard to laugh in their face because it’s so funny.  The most recent 80’s hair band to be a main stay are The Lost Boys.  What can be better than seeing the actual bands play their music while all coked up than seeing a cover band play other peoples music while all coked up.  That’s the Lost Boys, a bunch of coked up early thirties dudes rockin out the 80’s hits while snorting, sweating, and doing pelvic thrusts in the direction of ten year old girls.  Meanwhile, the sweet sound of the 80’s has put its spell upon all the moms in the crowd, causing the dance floor to be flooded with “mom dancing”.  This type of dance necessitates several vital ingredients.  First and most importantly, booze.  Second, full use of one’s hips for the hips are the bread and butter of the mom dance.  Lastly, but not to be forgotten, the burning passion for 80’s rock.  These three simple ingredients mixed together make one hell of a show.  It seems almost hypnotizing when it first starts to happen.  You don’t know when it’s coming and there is no clear sign it’s about to happen.  When that first group of moms glides to the dance floor, probably three or four, you can’t help but stare.  It’s amazing!  They have two moves.  The circling hip shake, sticking out the beer and put the opposite hand up, or the step forward and back, beer close to the side, opposite hand doing almost a hammering motion, both showing incredible passion.  Before you realize it, the dance floor is full with not just moms, but everyone.  The moms have lured everyone onto the dance floor with their blatant disregard of humiliation, which is synonymous with dancing.  If the moms don’t dance, no one dances, PERIOD!
All in all, it’s a good time.  Sure there are rides, carnival food and all the games, but the comedy alone is worth the voyage.  You can only play the throwing darts and the balloons game so many times before you’re turned off for life.  Even the rides are boring, who could imagine that, after about eleven years of the same ones (Brad, you and me, Heart Flip).  The food is good; I’ll give you that.  Nothing’s tastes better than pure grease and powdered sugar, or anything on a stick.  The humor though is what brings them back, year after year.  If it’s not funny to you, why the fuck are you at Prairie Days sober?  Kelly has invented the Casey’s cup special.  Just go get a cup from Casey’s and fill it with the booze of your choice and drink it up!  There’s so many Casey’s cups floating around the Pawnee popo won’t even sense suspicion.  It’s not like there going to huge lengths to keep from bringing their own alcohol anyway.  The beers that are bought at the beer tent are just the 12oz Bud/Bud Light cans (I don’t acknowledge Miller Lite).  For you underagers though, Casey’s cup spech it up, unless you’re already in the bar doing shots of Three Wisemen and not shitting yourself (I got next one Billy).  So I hope I have convinced you to attend this year’s Pawnee Prairie Days, it won’t feature one Brad Cox in the Mr. Hottie contest, but it’ll be a classic.  Let me know how it goes for you too, cuz I ain’t going to that fuckin gay shit. Oh, beware the fingerless gloves!

Well Ladies and Gentlemen, It’s that time of year again.  A time for undercooked pork sandwiches from the local boy scout troop, a time for those little pictures with the glass cover and the white cardboard frame  (maybe Poison, ‘Talk Dirty To Me’ album cover), a time for ‘Lost Boys’ and a three day hiccup in the infamous driving route turned daily routine, “the strip.”  Yes Ladies and Gents, I’m talking about thee, “Pawnee Prairie Days”, an almost ancient tribal tradition frozen in time to be reincarnated once a year to give the ‘townies’ a chance to finally forget all their worries for a while and finally become better than someone for a slight moment in time.  Who is this person we all have a chance to be better than?  This person is one of the most ruthless creatures to walk the streets of Anytown USA, the most cunning of cunning men, a race of people so slippery and shady that they must flee from town to town in the middle of the night every three days to remain unknown.  Of course I can only be speaking of one thing, the ‘CARNY’.
Now the Carny is just one of the many great experiences in the treat, that is ‘Pawnee Prairie Days’  Today I am going to be giving advice on one aspect of dealing with a Carney in person.  You all know that Saturday night, the tradition must continue, so I am going to give you the best advice I can on carrying on this great tradition.  Now the tradition consists of being really drunk and finding at least one person that thinks it’s a good idea to go mess with the Carneys.  The one method of doing this that I’m going to teach you today is commonly referred to as the “Brian Bentley Method” , in this method the most crucial part of execution is finding a person drunk enough to go along with the plan yet, sober enough that they won’t fly off the handle and actually start fighting.  You see, when using this method you don’t really want to fight anyone but, you wanna look very tuff and give of the impression like you can actually fight.  So, to start out once, you’ve got your partner you go over in between the Ferris-Wheel with the spinning seats that I threw-up on while riding with Jeff Clemence one year, on my brand ne Fila’s to, I was wicked pissed… you go over their and there should be 3 Carneys within a close proximity of each other.  To start the incident you first light up a cigarette and stare at the Carneys while carrying on a fake conversation, you are wanting them to make eye contact with you so you can point at them and start laughing.  This will then ensue with an almost immediate, “what the fuck’s your problem pal?”  this is exactly what you want, this gives you precedence to take two steps toward them and respond with something like, “Hey, at least I can afford sleeves Jim-Bob you piece of fucking white trash redneck Carney fuck”.  This should result in his Carney buddies coming to his aid; in this situation you gotta be very careful.  You see, the Carney is a wild creature, untamable and stronger in packs, deadly when cornered so, you don’t want to make any sudden movements and threaten the herd, or they will charge.  Now since we are using the “Brian Bentley Method”, which means we obviously don’t want to fight any one so,  unbeknownst to anyone, before you picked your partner for this disgusting display, you went around to all your friends and surveyed, which ones would “have you back” in the off chance that “things go down.”  It being ‘Pawnee Prairie Days’ and most, if not all, of your friends are drunk, the results from the survey are astonishingly weighed in your favor.  So with a quick look over your shoulder you make eye contact with your “boys” as to signal to them that, “hey, it’s so on right now get of here, it’s back getting time.”  So as the troops arrive to have your back, the carneys begin to assemble.  Like cockroaches scattering in the light of a seedy hotel room chandelier, they come from all angles across the square, from under the ‘Tilt-O-Whirl,’  down from the booth that holds the ‘quarter game’, from behind the kiosks of the ‘balloon dart’ game,  their hands covered in grease form wrenching on the ‘spinning apples ride’ and dipping corn dogs and elephant ears in 9 year old grease for the past 7 hours , their backs tired and minds numbed from the years of pedophilic behavior that made them leave their old lives behind and become hermits to society.  From whence they came, they shall be banished back into the shadows of society, they have alreadt lost the fight and don’t even know it, by a simple shouting match with drunken locals, who are somehow better than them because they have jobs hanging drywall and mowing lawns??????  But hey, that’s hit works, “So SCREW YOU CARNEYS”.  Anyways, their done and they have lost the stand off.  Somehow, someway the cops just happened to catch win of the gathering mob, hmmm……  how could they have found out???????????????????  So their it is folks, that’s the way the patented “Brian Bentley Method” works and gets you to win this fight, by more using more of your maverick style of debauchery.  You see, right before you did your quick ‘back having’ survey, you surveyed the perfect area to start this social war.  You found the perfect place, just within the line of sights of where the cops were standing, (in front of the flower shop), knowing good and well that they would instantly break things up and no one would get in trouble, you can blame it on the canry, everyone knows they start stuff.  So in the end you become the hero without even throwing a punch, you become the savior of Pawnee for standing up for her glory, everyone picks you up and hoists you onto their shoulders and carries you to the bar all while shouting the ‘Pawnee High Fight Song.’  The “Brian Bentley Method” folks, it works.  From all of us here at “The Zogger”  have a safe and happy PPD.

When I was mowing the yard this morning I noticed my neighbor, who looks like the actor; Sam Elliot, I noticed he got a hair cut.

I wonder if he ever got the car parts back that were stolen out of his garage last week.  I wonder if he thinks I took’em.

That kid at Panda Express last night sounded very excited when I ordered the ‘New Beijing Beef’

Do I like peas?

I totally just saw up this chick’s shorts.  It’s not my fault, who lies on their back, in the grass, with their knees up and feet on the ground, swaying them in and out while wearing really short loose shorts?

I probably have cancer

Oh my god, there’s a squirrel right ahead, I hate walking by squirrels, I always think they are going to attack me.  I’m pretty sure they’ve had enough of our shit.

I would totally ask these kids to start a ‘hacky-sac circle if I had a hac. DAM!

I’m gonna buy a hacy-sac.

How many times is ‘Titanic’ gonna be on TBS this year.

Is it Tuesday?

Could I be the next American Idol?

There is goose shit everywhere

I got news for ya lady, those Lane-Bryant stretch pants aren’t gonna hold much longer, and I’m not gonna bee around to see it when it happens.  I’m out’a here.

Jesus Christ, how fucking big is this hill?  I feel like I’ve been trekking up the North side of the Andes Mountains for the past 7minutes.

If I had a pet Lion I would name him Mufasa, like in the Lion King

Am I the only one who watches ‘Bill Moyers Journal’ on PBS?

Tampons are sick.

Is that Gene Hackman?

I saw Carl Madona, the guy form news Channel 20 run a red light a few months ago.  It’s things like that that keep him from being asked to join ‘Storm Team 20’

I hate going down town with Tab because she always says she knows the owner of what ever bar you happened to get dragged to.  I don’t care if you know the owner, shut up, you’re not in charge.  I have never seen her get one free drink from anyone that even remotely looks like and owner of anything but a few STD’s

I wonder if anyone ever feeds these ducks rye bread.

You could definitely rape someone in these woods in the middle of the night.

I hope I don’t get raped.

I bet there’s tons of perverts hanging out here during the day.

When the hell did they build this deck by the water?  I was just here a few days ago, I don’t remember a deck and benches.

Dude; if this guy keeps starring at me I’m totally gonna fight him.

That’s it; I’m walking right up to him and punching him right in the face.

Oh shit, he saw me.  I’m out’a here.

That’s guy’s lucky I didn’t fuck him up.

My arm is sore, I wanna take a nap.

I should invent a never ending candle.

How far is a fathom?

What the hell?  I though I parked over here?

Oh wait, I walked here.

Dam, not I gotta walk all the way back?  This sucks.

One time, after I watched this Bob Marley DVD I bought out of the bargin bin at Best Buy for 4.99, I decided that from then on, I was gonna live my life as a ‘White Rasta.’  I started saying “dats ah-right mhan” and “wa’chu tinking boi” all the time, needless to say I was awesome.  When people would ask me, “what’s up?” I would reply with, “Nutt’in mhan, just giving praise to Rastafari”  and then I would scream over my shoulder at the top of my lungs, “BUFFALO SOLDIER!!!” and then pretend that I didn’t do just that, and I would look around like. ‘who said that?’  I mean, ‘who said dat.’   Then people were always, I wanna say surprised, to say the least, and they would always reply by saying what are you talking about crazy guy?  Then I would say, “Rastafari?  King of kings? Lord of Gods?  Tamer of the lions of Judah?”  People would then just look pretty weird, as to say. “HEY!!!! What the fuck’s your problem pal?”  But they never did, I would just explain to them about the DVD and how from now on, I’m a white Rasta and I wish you would respect my decisions, …mhan.  This period in my life where I practiced the ways of the ‘White Rasta’, their secrets and traditions, it lasted about three days.  Why you ask? Well because of ALL YOU!!!!  You couldn’t leave it alone, you couldn’t stand seeing me in pain.  What pain?  Again, glad you asked, the pain and suffering that is we, Da Rastafari!!!   After finding no real answer as to what pain it actually was, and a trip to penny lane, I became a Grateful Dead ‘Dead Head’ instead, therefore that was the end of my ‘White Rasta’ stage of my life, for now.