9/10/97 - The Princess of Wails
As you all know, it's been a pretty tough week. We here at PWC, along with the rest of the world, remain
in shock after the tragic deaths of singer/comedienne Diana Ross, and her mother, Theresa,
who were savagely attacked by several psychotic inanimate objects while eating french fries in the back of their
limo, which was attempting, without aid of a driver, to evade a large throng of pepperoni.
I'm sure we all remember where we were when we learned the news. I don't, unfortunately, because I was at a local
sports bar partaking of their fine beverage selection for much of the evening, and the details aren't quite clear.
I believe I was over by the pool table, though I might have been at the jukebox.
However, one detail I can never forget is when the fateful news came over the ticker on the wall...
"er clothes back on...Braves win 5-4 in bottom of 11th inning...World mourns loss of Diana...Panthers sign goalie
Mark Fitzpatrick...12 oz Prime Rib, $8.95 all night...Marv Albert's dentist commits sui..."
"Oh my God!" exclaimed the stupified patron to my left, obviously hit pretty hard by the news.
"We're all shocked, my friend." I tried to console the man, but I knew his entire universe had just been shaken to
its core.
"That's a pretty good deal for a prime rib!" he proclaimed, finding a ray of light through his thick fog of
misery. I had to agree. Also, the chicken philly is quite good as well, with lots of seasoned, grilled chicken
topped with generous amounts of provolone cheese, and sauteed peppers and onions.
Sometimes, though, it's through these tragedies that a community can finally find a way to come together with a common
feeling, and a common cause. Within minutes, nearly the entire bar was chanting together, "Down with pepperoni!
Down with pepperoni!!"
As we looked out through the window to the Italian restaurant across the street, we could see several of the
chefs being led in handcuffs out to police cars, while crowds gathered, jeered, and waved signs with pithy slogans
such as "Spicy Italian Meat Is Murder!" and "Prosciutto, You're Next!".
I couldn't quite comprehend all of the hectic commotion that ensued after that. I do believe that there was
a fairly rowdy conga line formed, William Shatner was hung in effigy, and I was asked by President Eisenhower to
oversee the campaign to make Australian football more popular on the planet Neptune.
Oh, also, they ran out of prime rib. Hey, you can't offer that quality of beef for such a low price and expect it
to stick around long. As psychologists have known for aeons, nothing assists in the recovery from our grief
better than a nice, juicy slab of cow, with plenty of horseradish and possibly a baked potato with
sour cream on it.
I'd like to do my part, too, if I could. I'd like to attempt the internet's first "group hug". Now, we can't
all access this page at the exact same time, because I know that my readers have very tight, busy schedules
full of various activities, some of which involve being conscious, so you'll have to sort of imagine it.
Imagine that everyone who has accessed this page is already in a big hug in front of you. Now you join in, and imagine
all the people who have yet to visit, but who will, and then picture yourself welcoming them into the big hug. Can
you picture that? Good. Yes, here comes another visitor, welcome him in. Yes, and another, welcome her in.
Now, let's all shuffle slowly over to the desk on the other side of the room to get tissues.
Now, let's all repeat this prayer:
"Jesus fuckin' Christ is this whole thing a load of unbelievably hypocritical, self-righteous, self-serving,
obnoxious, ridiculous bullshit. Amen. Goddammit."
Now, don't you feel better?
"We'll tell you any shit you want to hear." - Howard Beale, _Network_
Pinback's Web Central
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Parrish.
That was in case any of you devious types were thinking of stealing all my cool stuff. So there.
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