2008 Woodie Awards
Sofa King We Todd Did
Where in the World will I Go?
Matt Fuller
Issue date: 10/11/02 Section: Opinion
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My mind turned then to India. Surely the home of the world's finest opium must be a civilized place. Getting high, and all that. (Seriously: Indian opium will get you higher than a philosophy major on Adderal.) I concluded that they'd be chill. Let me tell you, I was further from the truth than the Warren Comission. India is setting off nuke-you-luhr bombs along some border, the Nebraskastani, I think. I mean, Indians slew the noble buffalo, but geez! Bison demolition is hardly nuclear fission. Is nowhere safe?
Instead of lamenting this worldwide geopolitical acne attack, I determined to find myself a safe yet still culturally stimulating locale. The emerald of the sea, perhaps, sweet Ireland! Ah, right. Protestants and Catholics and car bombs, oh my. They're still fighting over who knew Jesus best like the remaining members of the Doors over Jim Morrison. And then, like a fog creeping out over the Thames, an idea began to materialize in my Matt-mind. "Holy sperm whale spanking, Mattman!" I cried. "You've got it!" You see, as some of you already know, I'm on my way to the Capital of Jolly Old England, home of Buckingham Palace and the most royal family on earth, the absolute epicenter of European culture and birthplace of football: Spain. Er, London.
Georgie and English Prime Minister Tony Blair are on good terms; they drink, smoke cigars, and swap wives. In fact, Mr. Blair is pretty much the only other world leader from a civilized nation that is supporting our current plans to send Saddam a strongly worded email, so I know I'll be in a place with a similar political climate, which was pretty high up on my list of criteria—along with the ready availability of erotic video games.
I can't say I'm not nervous, but I'm planning on using my media connections to prepare me for my journey. I've already been informed by a fan that I should not respond to being called "wanker," for such a label is, as they say in England, "totally whack." I hope that you'll be with me every step of the way, from the airline tickets to the extra underwear. Tally Ho.
Instead of lamenting this worldwide geopolitical acne attack, I determined to find myself a safe yet still culturally stimulating locale. The emerald of the sea, perhaps, sweet Ireland! Ah, right. Protestants and Catholics and car bombs, oh my. They're still fighting over who knew Jesus best like the remaining members of the Doors over Jim Morrison. And then, like a fog creeping out over the Thames, an idea began to materialize in my Matt-mind. "Holy sperm whale spanking, Mattman!" I cried. "You've got it!" You see, as some of you already know, I'm on my way to the Capital of Jolly Old England, home of Buckingham Palace and the most royal family on earth, the absolute epicenter of European culture and birthplace of football: Spain. Er, London.
Georgie and English Prime Minister Tony Blair are on good terms; they drink, smoke cigars, and swap wives. In fact, Mr. Blair is pretty much the only other world leader from a civilized nation that is supporting our current plans to send Saddam a strongly worded email, so I know I'll be in a place with a similar political climate, which was pretty high up on my list of criteria—along with the ready availability of erotic video games.
I can't say I'm not nervous, but I'm planning on using my media connections to prepare me for my journey. I've already been informed by a fan that I should not respond to being called "wanker," for such a label is, as they say in England, "totally whack." I hope that you'll be with me every step of the way, from the airline tickets to the extra underwear. Tally Ho.
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