Hi. I am your friendly neighborhood humor columnist. My column will be gracing the pages of The Post every Friday during Spring Quarter. I know, I'm excited too.
But at the same time, it feels kind of weird writing to people I don't know. So I thought we should start out discussing some safe topics people often talk about when they don't know each other. Please respond out loud to the lines below: Hey. Sure was rainy on Monday... but then the weather got better.
I don't know what the weather is going to be like today.
Yeah, I hope it's nice outside too.
(Oh good, you agree. See how much we already have in common?)
So...(awkward pause) where are you from?
Oh, you're from (hometown), I think I have a friend near there. Do you know Steve... uh... Steve... crap... I forgot his last name.
Oh well, he's older anyway. It was worth a try... so. Oh, actually, my bad. He's from (surrounding area or hometown that sounds similar to your hometown)
So...(awkward pause), what's your major?
Interesting. Yeah, lots of good jobs in that. (look away, cough.)
Uhhh...so...that shirt looks cute.
(If girl, take one step away from column. If guy, take three steps and break into run.)
I think that went well for the most part. I feel much better already. Now that I know a little about you, I'll tell you a little about myself. First of all, I am more than qualified to write this column. I have something I like to call credentials. First off, people say I'm funny. For instance, my mom and the $20 bill attached to my columnist application said so. And even if you don't agree, you still must admire my use of quotation marks.
The most important qualification is that I was fat in middle school. Due to my enormous girth and cruel classmates, I was forced to overcompensate not with humor, but with humor T-shirts. I wore shirts with humorous quips such as I'm with stupid and I love animals. They taste great. I would approach groups of potential friends pointing to my shirt and giggling at the obvious hilarity. Needless to say, I spent a lot of time alone. So here I am.
My credentials also include many accomplishments. For instance, I personally started five waves at professional sporting events. I also managed to have no game with the ladies for 22 consecutive years, although I must admit I am quite the man when it comes to Snood, Wolfenstein and Monopoly. However, nothing rivals my most proud accomplishment: I actually built a city on rock and roll. But when I went to show a friend, the city fell victim to a heroin overdose and suburban sprawl.
Getting this job hasn't been easy. I faced a lot of adversity. For instance, I had to bribe the editor with a lot more than $20. I also had to cope with certain psychological problems. I had a problem with inserting evangelical Christian subliminal messages into my writing. I mean, JESUS CHRIST. Something like that WILL ruin a man. I mean, sometimes when you get in a bad habit, you can't stop to SAVE YOUR SOUL.
But I overcame all that to act as your friendly neighborhood humor columnist. As I accept this honorable title, I will try my best to fulfill several promises. I promise that if I quote any statistics or facts
they will be made up. Or, at most, half true. That is, unless the facts come from one of President Bush's speeches, in which case they will be about one-third true, give or take one-third. I also promise to never generalize or stereotype, except when referring to gender, political affiliation, minorities, Greek organizations or citizens of Greece. Finally, I promise to offend at least 10 people per column who have a lesser sense of humor or a better sense of decency than myself.
I will try my best to keep these promises. But you must know, I don't work alone. This column is heavily edited. So if anything appears to be unfunny, more than likely, my editor wrote it.
-Brian Trapp is a senior specialized studies major. Send him an e-mail at brian.trapp@ohiou.edu. 17
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