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anti-press ezine 2001 09 09
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"We're Positive About The Negative"
A September E-dition
(C) Copyright 2001 Anti-Press All Rights Reserved
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* The Battle With Plattsburgh *
Boom! Bang! Ba-BOOM!
Ho-hum.
Drifting through our open window here in the Precision Reality Center --
the distant sounds of pseudo-battle. It's the Battle of Plattsburgh
weekend, a time to celebrate the victory of the American forces over the
British during the War of 1812. Developmentally-arrested,
adulthood-challenged clowns -- oops, we mean "re-enactors" -- are down
by the lake, recreating one of the key fights, wearing authentic
pseudo-uniforms and firing genuine pseudo-weapons.
We returned a few days ago from a very enjoyable vacation with some
friends who live near a real city with real events. Now we have to
tolerate this nonsense, a desperate attempt by the 'Burgh to pump up a
historical footnote into a big holiday with kids' games, fried dough,
and colorfully-dressed clowns playing soldier. Compared to our vacation
activities, it's anti-climatic.
After our relaxing and energizing vacation, we thought it would take
this place a while to get on our nerves. But within a couple of days
the 'Burgh hit the fan; we found ourselves soon re-engaging in our
long-standing battle with this pseudo-city. Why? Read on...
* Brainless Blonde Almost Carnages Anti-Press! *
Thanks to our superior reflexes we are typing this without the use of a
high-tech wheelchair with a blow-tube to operate our computer.
We had been riding our bicycle along a sidewalk when a car backed out
from a driveway, almost smashing into us. The idiot driver just threw
her car into reverse and took off like a blonde bat outta hell.
Since we were riding uphill, we were moving at a slow pace. We shouted
at the driver, missing her rear bumper by two feet. She squealed her
car to a sudden stop. There was no excuse for her recklessness. No
trees or bushes sat at the entrance of the driveway to obstruct the view
of the sidewalk; we were in plain sight.
The driver glared at us, even thought we had the right-of-way. We
yelled about the idiocy evinced by her actions, how if we were a kid we
could've been easily killed. Keeping an eye on her car, we made our way
along the sidewalk, adding a comment about her lack of brains.
Her boyfriend/husband was sitting on the front steps; he never bothered
to warn her about our presence on the sidewalk. So why did he call _us_
an asshole as we pedaled away?
And as we made our way uptown, the woman in her big white car yelled
across three lanes of traffic, also calling us an asshole. Such
language, especially with her young daughter in the front seat. Then
again, she's just raising her daughter to be just like her, a
Plattsburghian bimbo who acts brainlessly and then blames the victim for
her own reckless actions.
How many of these bimbos are in _your_ community?
* Bicyclist or Pedestrian: Which Nigger Do You Want To Be? *
This latest bike-car incident (see previous article) doesn't surprise
us; it's the second time that someone almost backed into us with a
full-sized vehicle. The first time the driver, a male bimbo, called us
a name and in return we threw a suitable comment his way as we kept
pedaling down the street. He didn't like our comment and he chased us
with his car, blocking us off on the sidewalk. He jumped out of his car
to grab us but his reflexes, typical of a slow-witted inbred
Plattsburgher, were no match for ours. We simply raced around him. He
blocked us off a second time but to no avail; we escaped the
slope-headed troglodyte with ease.
With the Plattypussies around here, age doesn't matter either when it
comes to idiot drivers. One time we had the right-of-way on the street.
An old woman, her limited Plattsburghian intelligence even lower due to
age, was driving a full-sized sedan, leaving the parking lot of a
McDonald's restaurant. She saw us coming towards her on our bike -- and
then proceeded to turn right in front of us, violating our right-of-way.
She gave us a look as if to say: "You must yield to me; I have a car."
That's why we prefer to ride on the sidewalk, even though technically
it's against the law. The sidewalk gives us more space from the idiots
with cars. At the same time we're more careful to watch out for
driveways. Be it noted: technically it's illegal to back out of a
driveway into traffic. We don't consider our violation of riding on the
sidewalk to be worse than that. Also, we always yield to pedestrians,
riding on the grass. After all, it's a sidewalk, not a bike path.
Too bad the inbred young yahoos around here don't think that way when
we're on foot and they come blasting down the sidewalk from behind,
almost knocking us over. And don't get us going on how drivers ignore
crosswalks; we've been almost mowed down a few times that way.
Either by foot or pedal, you're a second-class citizen here in The City
That Don't Werk. Remember that if you ever come to visit. Wear a crash
helmet -- and know a good lawyer back home.
* The Battle of Plattsburgh (For Respect) *
A few critics say that we're unfair in our attacks on The City That
Don't Werk. To some we are the lone nut finding fault with a perfect
utopian community.
Well, we aren't the only ones who have picked on the 'Burgh. Over the
years this place has been mentioned in various media and not always with
kindness.
Take the gang behind the old TeeVee show, SCTV, that ran back in the
1970s. The performers, such as John Candy, were recruited from the
Second City comedy troupe in Canada. NBC has been re-running the series
late at night and a while back we caught an episode featuring a newscast
sketch. One reporter talked about the clean-up in Plattsburgh, how the
city picked up all the maggot-ridden garbage around downtown and then
trucked it away to a location outside the municipal limits. This way,
observed the reporter, Plattsburgh would now have a downtown separate
from its city dump.
Obviously this place is facing a long battle to gain respect. APE is
only a small voice compared to NBC-TeeVee.
Anyway, let's move along to other news...
* Ho, Ho, Ho! Santa's On The Dole! *
Here's a switch: instead of giving, Santa Claus for the summer is
taking.
As mentioned in the previous e-dition, NENYland's former star
attraction, Santa's Workshop, is suffering hard times. The owner was
all set to hand over the park to a buyer but the deal fell through.
Visitors have shown up this summer to find the amusement park closed and
Santa out of work.
Ol' Saint Nick -- billed as "Santa Claus" (with the enclosed quotation
marks) -- was interviewed on the TeeVee news. "Santa" told the boys and
girls not to worry, that everything was being done to keep his summer
home alive.
Poor guy, with that thick white beard and heavy red suit, stuck in line
at the welfare office during the heatwave. The (news)Paper also ran a
story on the park's closure. One reader, a former elf at Santa's
Workshop, took the Paper to task for its article. She wrote a letter to
the editor, complaining that it was in poor taste because the "picture
and statement of Santa being played by someone and being laid off" was
ruining the fun for children who still believe.
The elf's letter was well-intentioned but she didn't think the situation
through. OK, let's say some still-believing kids saw the article but
didn't buy it because reporters are a bunch of lying and incompetent
bastards (to quote their parents). Now an elf comes along -- someone
the kids trust -- and this insider blows the deal by verifying what was
stated in the article was true, i.e. Santa isn't real. A brilliant
move, eh?
Then again, an elf ain't a genius. (Time for Santa's Workshop to find a
better tutelary spirit.)
* Ghost Mail *
Not much email coming into the Precision Reality Center lately. To us
email is like receiving messages from ghosts in the machine. Could more
of you rattle your chains and wail? (Moaning is optional for our
pulchritudinous female readers.)
Anyway, we did receive one interesting note from a disgruntled reader
who hails from The Land Down Under. Let us translate his observation
from Australian into English:
"Copulate Off, Vagina."
Unfortunately he didn't add anything else to his missive to
intelligently explain why he was upset with us. But you can discern
tremendous knowledge from just three words. Obviously, while Australia
is a land with many fine people, it also suffers from the presence of
mentally-challenged malcontents. The disgruntled reader traces his
ancestry back to the early days of his nation when Great Britain
initially settled the continent with penal colonies. His bloodline can
be directly linked to an 18th century criminal pervert who engaged in
unnatural relations with a rabid kangaroo.
More pleasant thoughts in our next e-dition.
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