The Yuckraker

Editor,

I’m writing today to tell you how much Nickelback sucks and how much I wish Washington County’s “New Rock” station WXWC would quit playing them.

How much can I not stand them? Here’s a list of 17 things I’d prefer doing over listening to a Nickelback song on the radio.

• Listen to Maroon 5

• Listen to Jim Belushi play anything on harmonica

• Let Flo-Jo finger my taint

• Work as a buyer at a second-hand floss store

• Go for a drive with Bobby Knight and tell him his wife’s ugly the moment he hits a bump and spills coffee on his pants.

• Eat shit and live, then poop that shit out, eat it and then die

• Place an order for stock in Bad Newz Kennels

• Spend some time with one of Jerry’s Kids

• Give my ball sack a Brazilian

• Watch Luciano Pavarotti eat ribs

• Donate to United Way

• Have unprotected sex with a boat motor

• Spend the rest of my life opening blister packs

• Pay visits to the seven children that I know about

• Get a BJ from Fred Thompson

• Give a BJ to Hillary Clinton

• Watch Stuart Scott as Othello and Stephen A. Smith at Iago in Shakespeare in the Park

Please forgive my language, editor and good people of Washington County, as Nickelback causes me to reach deep into the curse word playbook like no other.

Sincerely,

Jimmy Sexton
Washington County

Striped shirts are ordinary in today’s workplaces. So are ones featuring checks. A pink shirt on a guy, though, is still a bit different.

Or so thought Washington County’s Al Somerson. The 42-year-old accountant at General Controls, 35 E. Main St., wore a brand-new pink oxford for the first time Tuesday, to zero response.

“I can’t believe it,” he said during a lunchtime interview. “I figured someone would have said, ‘nice shirt, Pinky,’ or at least chuckled.

“And I damn well thought one of the girls would have said I look nice in pink or that it takes a real man to wear pink, but I got nothing.

“I think I’ll take this back and try again with a nice Hawaiian shirt.”

Washington County pharmaceutical salesman Mike Fitzpatrick had sweet tea when he took a weekend trip to Atlanta in 1994 and has never forgotten about the delectible beverage.

He trots this fact out from time to time when among friends, continually asking them if they’ve ever had sweet tea and saying, “Oh, man, it’s awesome. You don’t know what you’re missing.”

He also uses this Northern deficiency as a convenient way for him to remind people about how different and relaxing and great the South, a place he’s been to once, is.

“In the summer, when it gets to be 85 or 90 here in Washington County and it reminds me so much of Atlanta — or as I call it, The ATL — there’s nothing like it,” said Fitzpatrick.

“You can set your calendars to it and, sure enough, Mike went on another one of his ’sweet tea’ kicks again today,” said Fitzpatrick’s friend, Tony Lumars, who just completed a round of golf with him. “It’s usually not an issue, but once or twice a summer when we’re sitting in the clubhouse, Mike will go into this dog-and-pony mode.

“He’ll ask the girl behind the counter if they have any sweet tea and she’ll say, yeah, we put sugar in our sweet tea. And Mike will say ‘OK, I’ll try some.’ with this dopey smile on his face.”

Lumars went on to say that this sequence of events usually ends with Fitzpatrick berating the counter girl for passing the course’s tea that is a bit sweet off as sweet tea and saying you can’t get “real” sweet tea outside of the South.

Not since the Quinnipiac-Yuckraker poll was instituted in 1931 has it hit upon an issue that so deeply divides the public.

In phone interviews with 1,347 Americans (673 men, 674 women), nearly half (673) found the display of a mangina — whereby the male tucks his private parts between his legs to portray a those of a woman’s and then dances and goes “Woo-hoo” to his significant other — funny. Seventy-five percent of these found the mangina to be “uproariously funny.”

“When I come out of the shower and my wife’s laying on the bed — that’s a great time to break it out,” said Washington County’s Errol Michaels.

The other half said they offer an eye-roll or an “Ewwww, stop it” when confronted with such a tuck by their husbands or boyfriends.

In a more poignant sign of American unity, 98 percent of those polled said “Quinnipiac” is the most awesome name for a college, ever.

It took three hours, a dark bedroom and a cocoon of slience, but Washington County’s Angie Childress finally figured out what movie the guy from The Closer is from. In the process, she nearly gave the man lying next to her a heart attack.

“Spider-Man!” she said with inappropriate suddenness, given the midnight hour.

“Wha?” asked her half-asleep husband, Matt.

“Kyra Sedgwick’s boss. He was Tobey Maguire’s boss in Spider-Man. Goddamn, that was killing me.”

“Ah. Nice job, honey,” replied Matt, before falling back asleep.