Wednesday, February 23, 2005


Necessary Revelations.

In the spirit of Ward Churchill's admission that he's not an Indian, I feel compelled to reveal a few deep dark secrets of my own.

Just to clear the air, you see.

I expect this to be incredibly painful, but. . . I. . . I must.

-- Contrary to my endless protestations, Garfield Ridge is, indeed, named after America's favorite cartoon feline.

-- I do not work for the Pentagon. Instead, I pump gas at an Exxon. But it's close to the Pentagon! Plus, I get great discounts on Ding-Dongs and Slim Jims in the convenience store.

-- I don't have a master's from Georgetown University. My only academic qualifications include an Illinois State-issued G.E.D. and a $99.95 diploma purchased from the University of Guyana (*in* Georgetown).

-- All I learned about military affairs I gleaned from watching Tactical to Practical on the History Channel, and my complete set of Desert Storm trading cards.

-- Okay, fine; I'm still missing Schwarzkopf. Whatever.

-- Despite what it says on my resume, I never "once killed a man just for snoring too loud."

-- When handed Lindsay Lohan's phone number from Paris Hilton's boosted address book, I did not call her.

-- And I certainly didn't call her and leave seventeen voicemails.

-- And under no circumstances did each of these voicemails record me saying "You will beg for my seed, red child. For *I* am a golden god!"

-- Of course I didn't eat fifty eggs on a bet. No man can eat fifty eggs. Wasn't me. Honest.

-- I never employed "heat vision" to settle an argument with my high school guidance counselor.

-- I did not compose the theme to The Streets Of San Francisco.

-- This isn't me typing right now, but one of the monkeys getting the odds *just right*.

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