Thank you. Please park your posteriors.
Once again, it is my great honor to be able to deliver the annual State of The Column address.
Just like last year, however, the president has inconsiderately seen fit to upstage me with his own load of flip-flops, half-truths and political pandering.
Did you hear him Tuesday night?
I was actually quite surprised that President Obama made a reference to this generation’s “Sputnik moment.”
I’m betting no one under 50 remembers Sputnik from Spuds McKenzie.
But don’t worry. Despite all the cuts here at the newspaper, The Column continues to be a relentless resource of truth.
So for the record: Sputniks were these really cool blue/green gumballs that were covered with a frosty coating of pure sugar crystals.
I had countless “Sputnik moments” during my formative years, which explains why Dr. Erickson, our family dentist, was always so thrilled to see me.
Filling the craters in my teeth probably bought his cars.
Sadly, kids today don’t know about the sweet wonders of a Sputnik moment.
This is because nutrition-obsessed adults have brainwashed the youth of America into thinking that sugar is a Communist plot.
As a result we now have a nation of neurotic 12-year-olds who have nightmares about body fat, diabetes and their cholesterol levels.
Which is why promoting sugar appreciation continues to be one of The Column’s chief concerns.
Others include finding retail outlets that will still sell phosphate-loaded Cascade dishwasher soap and locating the cheapest prices on premium gas.
Speaking of my 1967 Oldsmobile Vista Guzzler, The Column is looking to book another community event that would like to include this vintage, cherry red ride.
Last year, as you may recall, The Column took the Vista Guzzler on a June road trip to Republic for the tiny town’s annual Prospectors’ Days parade.
I had more fun than a weevil in a wheat bin.
So any interested community boosters should contact The Column via the information below.
Yes, The Column is all about adventure. In fact, I’m still feeling the love from my recent odyssey to Frisco, Texas, as a proud member of the mighty Eastern Washington University band.
In fact, I can’t go anywhere these days without some smart aleck commenting on the photograph we published of me wearing a sparkly Eagles band uniform.
The manager of a South Hill Rite Aid store, for example, said he was disappointed that I wasn’t shopping in my sequins.
I tried to tell him that I had to turn the outfit back in to the band department but I don’t know if he heard me.
Of course, this incident is nothing compared to my encounter the other day with this lawyer I know.
The guy sidled over to me and whispered into my ear. My band-uniformed image, he said, had given him dreams of an erotic nature.
There are some sick and twisted readers out there.
The Column wouldn’t have it any other way.
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