Let me ask you something from one guy who frequently rides the bus, to another. What do you think looks more unattractive: an anorexic woman wearing dirty tight blue jeans talking on a cell phone while on the bus, or an overweight woman in dirty pink sweatpants talking on a cell phone while on the bus? You shouldn't have to answer now. Turn it over in your head for a week or so. I don't even know the answer. But I do know this: Monday through Friday, I take the bus to work. Each day, I sit in close proximity to these unhealthy people, and I feel like slightly vomiting on myself while exposed to it.

Who are these women talking to on the cell phone anyway? During a seven-minute bus ride, what important phone business gets resolved on a quiet ride from the East Hillside to downtown. Cutting edge stock tips? Book Ten of Plato's Republic where Socrates proposes that all artists live in exile? Why Turkey and Greece historically have played a major part in every world war? Those are the kind of issues I would appreciate hearing somebody rant about when taking public transportation. No, allow me to describe the typical conversation I have to endure: "So and so said such and such about this and that. And if she think she can say such and such about so and so; then she has another something something coming to this and that." On and on for seven minutes. Just by default, I'm ready to kill a homeless person with their own cardboard box by the time I get off at my stop after hearing that dribble because of that.

I have come to the conclusion that half of the time; these fat\anorexic cell phone addicted skanks in weird pants are not really talking to anyone on the other line. Notice that they never receive cell phone calls. They only make them and do so in front of strangers. Suspicious, indeed. They have some sort of psychological condition related to their distorted physical appearance, warranting a public display of fake phone conversations in hopes of convincing us that they actually have a single redeeming aspect in their social lives. I haven't the key to figure it out in detail yet, but I can see it for what it is.

And here in lies the kicker. Both the anorexic girl in jeans and the fat girl in sweatpants making loud fake cell phone calls on the bus share this one similarity while annoying the hell out of the rest of us. The only and I mean the only, thought swirling around their heads during this hellish road trip is, "I could really go for a hamburger right now!" Why don't they just say that on their cell phone? "I could really go for a hamburger right now!" We other passengers could respect it. We would most certainly nod our heads in agreement if nothing else. "Yes, hang up and shut up. You should go satisfy yourself with a greasy hamburger right now and stop irritating those of us who like to sit quietly and behave. It really looks like the both of you could use one, if not for different reasons."

March Ideas

I increasingly have started to harbor an anti-war stance in regards to the current situation in Iraq. As more and more of the administration's deceptive banter comes into light, and as more young people come home in body bags, and as more bloody destruction is waged against the Iraqi people, I am starting to consider attending my first ever anti-war protest march. And it's not just to meet new girls.

Recently, I stood across the street from a protest march and, despite the nice organizational skills and peaceful behavior, I never felt too excited to join up. I would like to see some changes to the routine march down Superior Street. Allow me to give you three easy ideas to spruce up any protest.

First, the chants have to be catchier. "Bush Lies While American Soldiers Die!" That one is okay, but it emphasizes the negative. Plus, if you're gonna have a loud chant; then you should mix in some off the topic commentary. May I suggest this one: "Bush and Big Oil - Together in Bed! We Do Not Support the Remake of Dawn of the Dead!" Or this one I'm quiet proud of: "We Do Not Support George Bush and Cheney! And Enger Should Lower Greens' Fees When It's Cold and Rainy!!!" You see? You'd get horror movie fans and golfers involved in the march.

Second, and I would think this is obvious to anybody, just two words: Break Dancers. I firmly believe that all protest marches should have people break dancing, or at least attempting to break dance, at the head and rear of the group. In fact, bad breaking at the head and professional break dancers at the rear makes for a fancy and eye catching protest. It's hard for me to believe that no one has thought of this already.

Finally, I want to address the signs and banners people carry. "Bring The Troops Home Now," and "Stop The War In Iraq;" those classics work well. However, I would like to see people carry some more personalized signage. I was thinking of making a banner that reads: "Make Me A Sandwich!" Another one I like is: "My Roommate Never Does Dishes!" After a long day of marching, chanting, and break dancing, I think it would be nice to get a free sandwich and have the dishes done when I go home. Those are things I believe in strongly.

Little Baby

Dear Sir,

I've just received the memo outlining your thoughts on my recent decisions regarding the financial futures of this firm. As much as I appreciate your sincere input on these matters, I still feel strongly about the up coming changes to your office. Allow me to take the time to address your concerns individually in hopes of giving you an understanding of my thought processes in future changes for this company.

In response to the first concern in your memo, I would like to begin by saying: Maybe little baby needs his bottle. Huh? Would little baby like that? My decisions are too upsetting for little baby at this company. Do baby wanna stay home and eat cereal and watch cable television? That make baby happy? Feel happy and safe eating his baby cereal and watching baby shows with his baby bottle on baby day?

On item two of your memo you had some questions about my projections at the last managers' meeting. I want to clear up those questions by reiterating my main point. And it is this: Does little baby needs to have his diaper changed? Hmmm? Baby needy new diapy? Baby seems upset about something. Baby gonna cry? Is somebody stinky? Is widdle baby boy a widdle stinky? Maybe I should install changing stations in the restrooms so we can change widdle tiny baby's diapies when he needs to be changed into a new diap-diap and his jammies.

Now, one thing I have taken into account is the suggestion you made in the third part of the memo. I have passed that suggestion on to my higher ups and given them my endorsement of said suggestion. I would just like to add: Does little baby want some tickle time. Is it tickle time for little baby? Does daddy's little num-num want the tickle monster? Baby's gonna get tickled, yes he is. Yes he is!

Thank you for taking the time and please contact me if you have any other questions or concerns after reading this.

Sincerely,

Mark Lindquist
Contributing Senior Editor

1st

Thank you, ladies and gentlemen. It's great to be here in Duluth tonight. What a neat town you have. Duluth, a beautiful city. Yeah, it's the only town I know that looks how Cloquet smells. Seriously, have you seen the downtown lately? I haven't seen this many empty office spaces since Sept. 11th. Duluth, the town that the Al Qaida forgot to bomb. Forgot to bomb. Try to forget that I'm bombing, people. Come on, that joke cost me two handjobs. Boy, I miss Uncle Frank. Thank you. Wow, I've gigged in front of more excited audiences at St. Luke's children's coma ward. That's children's coma ward. Ouch. Drink up, kids.

Anyway, speaking of the downtown, the other day I took the skywalk a few blocks to the bank because the temperature outside was a mean minus thirty. About half way into my travel, I saw a homeless drunken bum inside the skywalk drinking and asking people for spare change. And I say "homeless drunken bum" not to be mean. When I say "homeless drunken bum" I only say it because he is homeless ... and a filthy drunken bum. Have I mentioned that I miss my Uncle Frank? So, I'm walking by the homeless bum and it gets to my lucky turn for him to ask me for spare change. And I hate that. I can't stand when these drunks ask me for money. You know what I'm talking about? That's my hard-earned money that I worked five days a week for and will spend at two for one happy hours six nights a week. The service industry depends on my spare change, let me tell you! The homeless drunken bum gets ready to ask me for money and before he can open his mouth, I just got right in his filthy face. I kicked the can of Wild Cat Ice out of his hand and I grabbed him very violently by the neck.

I said, "Look, bum, don't ask because you ain't getting any. You make me sick the way you dress and smell. I don't like that you're in my skywalk. I don't care how cold it is outside. You get out there on Michigan Street with the rest of weirdoes. You choose not to work, or live healthy, or dress yourself well, or shower, or not take dumps at bus stops, and drink all day, and beg for change, and eat out of the dumpsters behind Chinese Lantern. That's your decision and if you're going to live like that; then you get back outside and drink like a real drinker. None of this wussy drinking inside the skywalk where it's warm. That's not part of the deal. Stop bothering people. Don't you have a cardboard box to stuff with newspapers or something?"

But the whole incident ended up being a little embarrassing for me and ruined my day. Turns out the bum was actually one of the line cooks at My Buddy's Place on break. So I gave him some change. Speaking of eating out of dumpsters ... Just kidding, just kidding, folks. My Buddy's Place is a very great restaurant. It received four stars from the Duluth released sexual predators' vacation guide. That's sexual predators' vacation guide, ladies and gentlemen. Have I mentioned I miss my Uncle Frank?

Well, my time is almost up, and I'd like to leave you with some final words of wisdom that my sixth grade teacher once gave me behind the playground during recess. He pulled me aside and told me, "It'll be easier next time if you just stop crying and get into the car." I miss my Uncle Frank! Thanks, folks, enjoy the rest of the show.