Sunday, May 3, 2009


Let me get to the point of this article in a roundabout way. It is a well known fact that we from the more northern Midwest cold climes almost always will move to other cold climes when we finally get up the gumption to do some roving. This odd trait comes from our Viking heritage when our forefathers would set out to pillage the southern lands. Strangely, once these foragings were done, the horned warriors would always return to the God-forsaken place they were from despite experiencing all these wonderful lands where the normal color of the landscape was green rather than white. They saw countries where the fields grew abundant crops- grains other than just oats and multi-colored vegetables other than just turnips. They encountered cultures with languages easier to speak than Norwegian and Swedish. These cultures had women with hair color other than golden yellow (although that is not a bad thing at all, just a little boring when every woman is like that.) and these women were curvaceous and sensuous in ways that their own women hadn’t evolved to yet. Despite all of these things the Norsemen would always come back to their frozen, frigid fjords.
Now back to the present day. Like the ever-cold seeking Vikings, some fans of frostbite have discovered Fairbanks. We are populated with expatriate Michiganonians, Washingtonites, New Hampshirovians, Wyomingtons and even some West Virginianers (although they don’t really count because they are too far south to be considered winter folk). These people have all discovered the secret I am about to reveal about Fairbanks. Some have wandered up here haphazardly in the past, but today even the most stalwart descendants of the Norsk explorers, softened up by generations of fast food eating, dinky desk jobs and decades of TV watching, are now intimidated by the Alaskan horror stories put out by the media. They have heard of our –50-degree weather, our months of near-sunless skies and our polar bears that especially savor Lower 48 McDonalds fattened flesh. They are so afraid of winter here that even looking at pictures of it causes them to ice over with dread. Let me now dispel these rumors.
A lot of this bunk about our horrendous winters is jimmy-jam that locals make up to keep lower 48ers and others from coming up here in droves. If Midwesterners ever discovered how easy our winters are compared to those icy, month long blasts that Chicago, Minnesota and Wisconsin endure that have the surgical precision to separate skin from bone, their airports would be jammed with flights north. The difference is that our winters are dry. Our atmosphere is so dry that water runs away shrieking at the mere mentioning of the word “Fairbanks’. It is so dry here that snowflakes are puffy and immaculate things that float daintily to the ground like miniatures of those lace doilies that your Grandmother used to have on her coffee tables. Once on the ground they just form a thick, puffy blanket that is so airy if you fell into it you would disappear from sight. You wouldn’t have to worry about suffocation; you would just stay in a suspended state of animation until the road crews found you in the spring and returned you good as new to your family. The snow is so light that we don’t use snow plows up here, we just send out big guys with names like Donny Lee and strong lungs to blow it all to one side.
It is also virtually windless here. The difference between a windless winter in the sub-Arctic is like the difference between sticking your head in a cardboard box and sticking it in a jet engine. Fairbanks is usually as windless as an accountant’s convention, which is a big difference as far as feeling cold is. The cold is there, but it is just hanging out minding its own business and not trying to get under your clothes like a horny sophomore. Without the humidity and the wind, winters here are just not that bad. I’d rather have Fairbanks at –20 than Chicago at +20.
It is true that it does get dark here. In the winter the sun forgets to set its own alarm clock, finally gets up around 10, does this quick sprint across the sky barely getting above the tree line, then settles back down for an early afternoon siesta and never bothers to get up again. But what does that matter? Most people today tan themselves by the glow of their TV sets and computer screens anyway. People hear that we only get 3½ hours on our darkest day, but the reality of it is that there are 90 minutes of twilight propping up both ends of that daylight like bookends, dramatically altering its real length.
By giving away these secrets of our winters I am ostracizing myself from the Fairbanks community. They do not want these things to be commonly known. I might as well sew a big scarlet ‘A’ on my coat or a yellow Star of David or simply have ‘TRAITOR’ tattooed on my forehead. Once word of this gets out we might as well get the guys building that fence between Texas and Mexico to come build us one too to keep all the half-frozen North Dakotatonians out. “What?” I can hear you all say, “A place that is minus 0 and yet you can still go outside with only the lightest of Land’s End on? Where the snow is powdery all winter long and there are three ski areas all in a catapult’s throwing distance from each other? Let’s give the house away and rush up there! We’ll live in an igloo if we have to!”
Hereby, my friends , I insure my doom. With the licking of the envelope that contains this document, I seal not only the envelope, but also my fate as well having ignited the wrath of 40,000 home-loving Fairbanksingsers. I will probably disappear mysteriously as a result of this, my body making a reappearance 100 years from now at the bottom of a Denali glacier where future CSI investigators will wonder at the strange tread-like marks on my tenderized flesh as though I had been beaten with snowshoes.
I thank you, and bid you goodbye, perhaps in more ways than one.

Saturday, May 2, 2009


This is an open letter to all other citizens of the United States: our Governor is better looking than your Governor.
That's it- period.
No questions asked.
In fact, our Governor is a pretty hot chick. Of course, in Alaska, any womanstanding on both legs and having her own teeth is ususally a hot enough babe towe single guys living here. Still, Governor Palin is exceptional. Despite glasses and an educated aura about her, she is still a sensuous beauty. The glasses and her aura just make her seem wonderfully chaste and pure just like Catholic girls in their plaid skirts seemed to us boys in the non-parochial schools. Chaste and pure, that's a personification our last GovernorMurkowski could never have pulled off. Palin is also quite curvy, but we're not supposed to notice that in our leader. The male in us notices it anyway; we can't help it.
Now this isn't that Ms. Palin isn't a solid pretender to the throne.She paid her dues being the mayor of Wasilla, which is the Chicago of Alaska. Itis a commuter community to Anchorage (our New York), yet stands on its own feet as a lovely place made even lovelier by Ms. Palin's presence. It is not like we in Alaska, being around 65% male, elected her solely for her looks and charm, although it was real nice seeing those campaign posters of her sweet smile all over town. With such a cultured person as Ms. Palin in power we are apt to explode several myths the rest of America has about Alaska at once. A lot of these illusions are going to fall like dominoes now, starting with;

A. We are male dominated- Remember, the meanest critters in our woods are theFEMALE bears and moose. The Alaskan human female falls in line somewhere afterthe wolverine.
B. All Alaskans are ugly.- It has long been rumored that we all were hit a fewtoo many times with the bad end of an ugly stick. Take a good look at Ms. Palinto realize the error of that belief, but not too long. She is OURS, we saw herfirst.
C. We are backwoods ignoramuses.- No we isn't!! Ms. Palin embodees all thekarackeristiks that a big city girl needs- sofustication, charmm, edumicationand poize. We don't need no more than that. And the meaning of 'bigcity' in Alaska means any place with its own fire department, library andindoor plumbing.
D. We are not intellectuals.- Ms. Palin wears glasses and looks smart. Thatmeans she is an intellectual in our book. That's good enough.
E. That we are all hicks.- OK, you got us on that one. She isn't JesusChrist for crying out loud! You can't always make wine out of water.
F. That Alaska is redneck country.- Does that sweet neck look red? The worst you'll see adorning her shoulders is a quivit scarf. However she does have an anchor tattoo on her upper arm- but you are not supposed to know that.

The electing of a female governor in Alaska might bring about a whole new era in our history. Maybe men here will start exploring their feminine side and you will start seeing Alaskan males knitting lace doilies for their log furniture instead of tanning moose hides during the long winter months. Trappers will reexamine their professions and start using catch and release methods. Solar panels and wind generators will sprout everywhere replacing generations of dependence on oil drilling and wood stove heat. The lion shall lie down with the lamb, or, in our case, the grizzly with the salmon, if that is possible. Alaskans will band together, secede from the union and become our own country-oops, you weren't supposed to know about that either. We can't have Homeland Security knowing about our 'Alaskans for Seceding from the Union and Joining Canada Party'.
Of course, it is not that I'm playing a game of one upmanship by all this. Just because our state is far bigger than any of yours, has more pristine wilderness than yours does and has a higher percentile income doesn't mean that I am getting snooty on you. We will always give the lower 48 states creditfor having warmer winters, but then, almost anybody else would including Frostbite Falls, Minnesota. You folks have the greater agricultural yield, although pot is legal here now and we might surpass you on that count soon. You 'southerners' do have more good looking women than we do, which is a very sore point with us, but, like the lonely soldiers of WW II alone in distant lands, we now have our own pinup girl to help us get through our long, lonely winters. However, just to be neighborly, you could still send us some of your women and thereby maybe help keep us in the union.


The Taliban, tired of constantly coming up with new edicts regarding the behavior of the people they dominate, have passed an all-encompassing law that simply bans everything.
Having made a reputation as being a severely authoritarian and strict power the Taliban is intolerant of anything non-Muslim except Yankee dollars. Taking an extremely repressive form of Islam as it's law, the Taliban has outlawed many of the normal conventions of a society- music, kite flying, women showing any skin other than their hands, shaving, movies, walking with an unrelated person of the opposite sex, women working, television, and just about anything that could possibly give a person a moment's freedom or joy. To be fair, they do allow people such freedoms as eating, drinking, sleeping and going to the toilet, but these are under fierce debate and could be rescinded at any time.
“It just simplifies everything.” explained Sheik Alli Blohard, local Taliban ombudsman. “When everything is banned, then there is no guesswork or grey zone. The person is simply guilty and can be prosecuted with much less effort on our part. Speaking of which, it is forbidden by death to take interviews. You will need to be stoned when it is finished.”
Yours truly tried to keep the interview going as long as possible, but Blohard got wise to it and had me dragged to the stadium for execution. Whereas previously executions were staged at the half-time of football games, all sports are now outlawed and all the athletes have been slaughtered so the main show is now the assassinations themselves.
This will apparently be my last report. I am texting this as they bury me up to my waist as is the tradition for stoning in Afghanistan. I, along with a man they caught whistling and a woman they caught breathing will be executed together. I regret that I only have one life to give for my blog.
Ouch!! Ow!! Hey! Ouch!!


A new law has been passed in Congress by which all wealthy individuals who keep their finances in tax-free havens outside the U.S. cannot receive local tax based social services. Rich individuals who have their cash in places such as Switzerland, Bermuda, Cayman Islands, Barbados and other off shore banking paradises will not be protected by police, fire departments, libraries, road maintenance, water and sewer, and other amenities.
The effects of this law has taken an interesting toll on the tax evaders. Millionaire Tex Rideum, CEO of Patsy Investment Firm, was denied fire truck service when he reported a blaze at his home. Mr. Rideum is now living in the basement of what was once his $3 million mansion.
Bartha Steward, TV show hostess of 'Pretentious Pretties' and head of a multi-million dollar home beautifying business was denied police help when she called in a burglary at her home at the exclusive gated community of Ostentatious Oasis. Ms. Steward had to appear before the cameras for a week with a black eye and arm in a cast as a result of her melee with the robbers.
The family of Reginald P. Whiteguy III is having to use the woods for their ' bodily evacuations' after having the sewer lines tuned off on their Connecticut mansion. The odor from backup is causing them to have to live on the non-leeward side of the house and to keep the windows closed even in sweltering weather. On the plus side their woods are really lush from being well fertilized this year.
Manhattan dweller Mike Screwkowski of the 'What's The Beef?' burger chain has had his municipal water turned off. It is truly a strange sight to see buckets for catching rain water mounted outside each of the windows on his $4 million high rise condo.
Precious Morloch, granddaughter of media magnate Robert Morloch, was sent home in tears today as she was ousted from classes at the University of California where she was studying to be a drama queen in Theater. Morloch promptly launched a tirade in his newspapers, but was immediately overwhelmed by a tsunami of 'Letters to the Editor' from readers who could no longer go to school themselves or afford to send their kids. This was especially disconcerting to Mr. Morloch as the 'Letters' section is now its largest portion of his newspaper due to his having laid off most of the reporters. Also disconcerting was that half of the letters were from his ex-reporters.
J. Gatesbee, billionaire extraordinaire of the real estate firm Landgrab, was shocked to have his drivers license taken away by State Troopers while out on a cruise. He was forced to abandon his Lamborghini and humiliatingly walk back to his home in the Berkshires. “This is a crock!” he stated to reporters later, Why should I have to pay for roads that peasants use too?”
Shahashi Boudrahi, a software CEO originally from India, was denied entry at Kennedy Airport and had his US Passport taken away. “This is terrible!” he told radio station KRUD “How will I ever be able to get anything done from my home town of Kalihasbar? They don't have electricity there and no Starbucks!”
Mr. And Mrs. Anthony Trustfrump found their marriage was annulled. Their State marriage license was revoked and they were informed by the Boston State's Attorney that she would be considered a prostitute and he her client until the matter was resolved.
Most disturbing of all was the death of Mrs Joyce Brickbottom, wife of airline chief Race Brickbottom at their home in Lexington, Virginia. The local Coroner refused to pick up or examine the body, so the family was forced to move their deer meat out of the large freezer that they had and put her in it. Local detectives say that it is an unfortunate act of human nature, but that everybody has to go sometime. They did offer their condolences to the family and sent them a sympathy card at state expense.


God Almighty in close association with Satan has created a special hell for CEO's and other business leaders who have helped to create the present world-wide financial meltdown (it seems Satan himself couldn't stomach the gall of these money-engorged maggots and willing agreed to work in conjunction with his nemesis). In one of the most colossal constructions since the six days it took to make the universe, the two, working under the corporate title 'Raising Hell' created the following new sectors, much on the order of a really unpleasant theme park:

Instead of having cars, auto CEO's will have to travel on unicycles.
In return for each bonus received executives must give up one body organ.
They can take all their money with them, but all there will be able to buy is dried sow ears, pickled jelly fish and habanero sauce.
Swimming pools will be filled with boiling hot cooking oil.
Anyone involved in the real estate collapse has to make his living selling homes in Antarctica.
They can bring all their earthly goods with them in hell, but not the electricity or batteries to run them.
All cars will have pull rope starters like lawn mowers, except they must use their teeth.
Corporate jets can only be flown 30 feet off the ground.
Servants can be had, but will always address you as 'asshole' instead of 'sir'.
Commuting to work can only be by subway- under it, not in it.
Beautiful women will be available but they will be lacking sexual organs, which will make their monthly cycles a permanent, day to day torment which they will gladly share with everyone.
All residents in this hell will be able to continue on with their earthly careers, except that they will be paid in Karothian Schontels, which can only be used to buy goods that have to do with hemorrhoids.
Muzak will be played constantly throughout the place and will consist of rap music played backwards at a higher, chipmunk rate of speed.
Alcoholic beverages will be available but must be drunken through the nose via a straw.
Television will run for two hours a day starting at 3 AM and consist of Bulgarian stock market reports, Peruvian soap operas and the same Seinfeld episode over and over again.
All haircuts will be done with Cuisinarts.
All toilets will be located in walk in freezer units.
All legal papers will have small print so tiny that no one can read them. Decisions concerning their content will be made by Satan according to his mood at the time.
Contrary to popular belief, religious groups WILL be able to proselytize in Hell; they will just be more obnoxious and adamant there than in normal life. (This is true irony at its most profound.)
Massages will only be given using numchucks.
Clown boots with slick bottoms will be the only footwear available.
Eyeglass lenses will have a mandatory one inch thickness.


What would have happened if Simon Cowell, the inspiration and chief executioner for the wildly popular American Idol show had been around to judge the big stars of American music before they became legends. Just how many of them would have survived the gauntlet of his withering criticism? I think many would have curled up under his sarcasm like slugs deluged by salt and withered away.
Let's take a look at what would have happened had Simon Cowell been around to initiate some of the famous voices of today into the world of commercial rock and pop music-

TINA TURNER- “ Miss....Miss...! Please stop shaking your money maker for a moment! You're heating up the place with that flopping around. You are also heating up Randy. Dear, you've got to slow it down a bit. You're flinging sweat everywhere. No more coffee before auditioning. Absolutely no stimulants. You might also want to wear longer skirts- I've learned more about the female anatomy in the last 3 minutes than I did in 3 semesters of biology. You're singing is fine, but your facial expressions are scaring the hell out of the musicians. Also, you shimmied so hard in the last number that your bra flew off and blinded the drummer in one eye!”

BOB DYLAN - “How can you call yourself a singer with that nasal whine? Humans are designed to sing through their mouth, not their nostrils, although I can see your predicament- it is the most predominate part of your face. Your song says 'Everybody must get stoned'- it certainly looks like you did to come up with some of these lyrics. And, something to think about, shaving between auditions might keep people from thinking you slept on a park bench last night..”

MICK JAGGER- “Wait a minute! Your supposed to be singing, not prancing around! Somehow I don't think that your singing about your lack of 'satisfaction' is going to get you anywhere. When you sang 'Please allow me to introduce myself, I'm a man of wealth and fame' who did you say you are? ...That's what I thought you said and I believe you. Could you please try to keep your big lips away from the microphone when you sing? I don't want the next person using it to come down with some sort of venereal disease.”

TOM WAITS- “How did you get in here? Security!!! We are paying these guys too much if every bum off the street can get in here! Security! Get over here! Buddy, your voice sounds like someone rubbing a frog on a washboard. Go somewhere and take a bath! You're better off using your throat to wash down cheap whiskey with your chums.”

DOLLY PARTON- “Honey, you're not going to make it on boobs alone. Don't lean too far forward or you might pitch off the stage. That high pitched whine you call a voice sounds like an old Kentucky air raid siren. When you add that deep south accent to it its enough to peel the paint off Abdul's finger nails. However, big hair is good in the recording business- it cushions your head when you take a fall.”

PAUL McCARTNEY- “What the hell? 'Coo-coo-ca-choo I am the Eggman Coo-coo-ca-choo'? Sergeant Peppers Lonely Hearts Club Band'? Are you singing pop music or nursery rhymes​? This is reality mate, not Lucy In The Sky With Diamonds. Don't expect to ever get knighted by the Queen for this kind of stuff! The only way you're going to make it is to team up with someone who knows something about music. And you'll never get anywhere with that haircut.”

LYLE LOVETT- “Didn't you star in that David Lynch cult movie 'Eraserhead'? You're so tall doesn't your head get caught up in ceiling fans? If I hear one more song about how wonderful Texas is I'm going to urp. If Texas had been around at the time of the Revolutionary War with Britain we would have let you keep it without a fight!”

MADONNA- “Excuse me, the reflected light off the glitter on your snow cone brassiere is blinding me. Could you cover them up with something please? Thank you. And thank you for more reasons than just the glare. First off, Miss, I think that if you were to wear more clothes to the audition it might take some of the chill out of your voice. Have you ever thought about having just one special image instead of so many? I'm beginning to think you might have a multiple personality disorder, although they all seem to revolve around being a slut.”

JOHNNY CASH- “You just sang 'I shot a man in Reno just to watch him die'. I get the feeling they might have let you out of prison a little too early. Are you a friend of the guy we had security throw out earlier? You might want to think twice before giving up that job as a tenant farmer. If you show up here again I'll have a song for you- A Boy Named In A Suit To Sue. One more thing- if you're planning on being before the spotlights you going to have to wear something other than just black all the time!”

ROD STEWART- “Was that singing or was someone making cat gut strings out of a cat that wasn't quite dead yet? And, NO, I do not think you are sexy. You shouldn't have asked. The name of the type of singing you are trying to do on some songs is 'crooning', not 'looning' like the sound of a bird. It would help too if the hair were combed once in a while.”

NEIL YOUNG- “Are you related to that Dylan fellow? I know you're both from way up north somewhere and both sound like the nasal cavities got infected from the cold. I thought you might be brothers. There are similarities- the hayseed clothing, so counter culture that you probably live under sewer grates, anti-authority except for the banks that hold your money. Have you ever thought of getting in a group with, say, three other guys who could help drown out your voice?”

BOY GEORGE- “OK Miss...what...oh, sorry. You should really put that on your name tag. Is that why you call yourself that so people will know. OK, I get it now. All right, I know you sang 'Do You Really Want To Hurt Me' and after hearing it I have to say “YES!!” emphatically. If you want to keep on in this field of music I might suggest getting an operation- the opera still needs castratos. I'm sure you'll never miss your little jewels. It will also help keep you out of the Army, although if you dress like that maybe you don't have to worry.”

ELVIS- “Well, you have a strong voice, but I really have to wonder about a contestant who is romancing a 'howndowg', as you put it. I think those peanut butter, bacon and banana sandwiches you eat before coming on stage gum up your singing some. It would help if you would concentrate more on the lips and less on the hips. 'Back field in motion' is a move forbidden not just in football but on many TV shows too. Abdul finds it very distracting and she's slobbering all over herself.”

BARRY MANILOW- “That was so slick I'm surprised you didn't slide right off the stage. Could you please back up a bit? The light shining off your squeaky clean looks is blinding me. Does your mother know you are here? If you write the songs that makes the whole world sing would it be possible to please let someone else sing them? Watch out as you leave, there are truant officers lurking around!”

BRUCE SPRINGSTEEN- “Do you gargle with gravel each morning to get that voice? It was nice that you brought your whole band with you but it doesn't change your singing any. I know its 'Hard To Be A Saint In The City', but you sure aren't going to be in any chorus of angels either. Did the thought of dressing up for an audition ever occur to you? Those jeans look like you wear them to every song-a-long you do. Its really a good thing that you are 'Born To Run' because the entire New Jersey Tourist Bureau is here to kneecap you for ruining their business.”

ELTON JOHN- “The Bitch Is Back alright! Your certainly hit that nail on the head. It's nice that you dressed up for us today. Are you going to Mardi Gras afterwards? We had a lady named Madonna in here earlier who could have loaned you her twin traffic cones to accent your outfit. I just hope that you aren't looking at your future career through the same rose colored glasses you are wearing now. I'll use one of your own phrases for the judgment of your performance- Get Back Honky Cat!!”