Hey everybody. I’m going to admit this right now. I am damn tired. I’ve written quite a bit recently and my brain, well, it may be done with.
To help get this train a moving, I decided on a complete whim to listen to Hall & Oates. After playing multiple hits by the duo, I’ve concluded that “Maneater” is the perfect song to wake you up and write words. Weird, huh?
Here’s your FNITBT:
For many years the state of Oklahoma has run a subliminal campaign for the exportation of our trash. My initial discovery of this operation was in the late 1990’s when I first visited the state. I figure everyone recognizes this:
Yes, it is the not-so-famous “Keep Our Land Grand” bumper sticker. For many years this graphic has adorned the backside of vehicles, public benches, light poles and the walls of gas station bathrooms, reminding you to properly dispose of your trash. But where is the sticker leading you to throw away your used tissues?
Let’s take a closer look. The yellow paper wad takes a trajectory from the middle of the word “Oklahoma,” which is left of the wastebasket. This positioning of the state name is important. What about the wastebasket? That’s kind of an odd shape. It’s a little unbalanced. So “Oklahoma” is to the left of a weird trashcan. Interesting.
Well, the first moment I saw this bumper sticker I knew what’s up. I credit my lack of genetic diversity. Here’s a hint:
Yes, state of Oklahoma is pushing a campaign unconsciously convincing you to toss your crap over the eastern state line so they don’t have to pick it up. How successful is it? None at all. I’ve been all over the Fort Smith to Sallisaw area and they are fairly clean of litter. However, I’m assuming about 40% just make some sort of white trash joke. It was begging for it.
Anyways, nice try Oklahoma, but you can’t get this past an inbred like me. I’m now going to go kiss my mom-sister.
Here’s your Friday Night in the Big Town:
Hello everyone. Yet again you come to me in droves with the deep philosophical question, “what should I do this weekend?” As always, I deliver. This week I give you four choices, one more golden nugget of fun than usual. I then, like a locust, disappear, not to be heard from again for six days (some locusts actually go underground for 13 to 17 years, but you get the point).
Compared to the other writers of TLO, I’m not very visible. I’m not a stand-up comedian like Spence, an unprofessional librarian like Marisa (which are all the rage at the moment), or own a media empire like Patrick. I’m like Howard Hughes without the success or syphilis.
I guess seeing me is like witnessing ball lightning or the Lochness Monster, except for the fact that you wouldn’t care if you saw me. This tells me that I need to open a new chapter in the life of Adam.
First, I need a suit that says “I own this room.” Second…….well, I don’t have a “second.” I guess that’s my problem. I don’t know where to go after the suit. Oh well, if you need me, I’ll be at my house, in a suit, owning the room.
It has been an exciting week here at the Lost Ogle complex. You might have read earlier this week that we “survived a distributed denial of service attack (DDoS).” Except we didn’t. Since I am the Ogle mole INSIDE the Lost Ogle, I will give you the real story. Sorry, it’s not as exciting as the cover-up.
Basically, we got hit with the Millennium Bug, also known as Y2K. Yes, I know it’s 2014. This reflects on TLO as a whole, not only our equipment. Stay with me for a moment.
As you have read in this and past stories, I refer to our headquarters as “The Lost Ogle compound” or “complex.” Looks are everything now days, even in descriptions. We use these phrases to sound more important. Not everyone has a “dark tower,” a Devon Tower or Golden Dome to wear with pride. It is a “fake it till you make it” attitude.
The problem is we never made it. Our complex is nothing more than a sheet metal contraption behind the Hungry Frog Restaurant on 10th Street. We pay them for electricity that we pump in through a duct-taped orange extension cord. The one advantage of this building is after heavy winds we get to rebuild it into any shape we want.
By now you probably guessed we don’t use the best equipment. Our setup is three Commodore 64 computers rigged to use 28.8k dial-up Internet. We hoard “1000 Hours Free” America Online discs and use them with a weirdly converted disc drive. We were upgrading to Commodore 128’s, but Patrick lost all our funds through last year’s Bitcoin crash. He said “I’m not a hosting / server / IT guy,” he also isn’t a Warren Buffet.
So last Friday right before I stamped my timecard to clock out, yes we have one of those, we were alerted that something is wrong with the site. Our “alarm” is when our Commodores begin to make that “bad sound.” Well, with our terrible equipment and sloth-speed Internet, Y2K finally reached us and ripped us a new one.
We decided to create a PR front that was less embarrassing than the actual story. Since our machines were fried, we visited the library to use Wikipedia. We found this DDoS thing and ran with it. For now are borrowing a PC with Windows 95 from a friend. We are really enjoying the pinball games and Weezer’s “Buddy Holly” video that comes with this operating system. We hope to upgrade to this soon.
So why did I blow the whistle on the cover-up? Since I was the last person to touch the Commodores before this went down, Patrick’s taking it out of my paycheck. With my current budget, I can’t afford to lose $17.45. This is my rebellion.
Here is your Friday Night in the Big Town.
Guess what? I’ve been ruining your weekends for a full year now! Sucks to be you! On Friday, July 12, 2013, an Oklahoma City Q-list celebrity was born. To be clear, I am referring to me.
I introduced you to Steve Stone, Your Favorite Hypnotist, who we know is the real deal because he’s from New Orleans. I also jinxed Team USA to the runner-up position in the World Cup of Softball. As you can see, my power is strong, but I have no idea how to wield it.
I have learned many things as the FNITBT writer. Some sweet Lost Ogle commenters made it clear that I am an “asshat.” I have also broken multiple stories about Patrick, such as his involvement with the Illuminati and his burning of the Lost Ogle compound over Emily Sutton.
I look forward to providing more sights and sounds for your weekends as well as Lost Ogle dirt. Thank you for voting me “Favorite Lost Ogle Writer.”
Note: There has never been a “Favorite Lost Ogle Writer” poll.
This is your Friday Night in the Big Town.
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